1. The personality of Obadiah, as of so many of the Minor Prophets, lies deep in shadow. It is obvious that we cannot characterize him from the few verses that he wrote. But we are aware that his strong way of putting things, his graphic descriptions, his love for striking pictures, his quick exclamations, his impassioned warnings throbbing with anger and sorrow, made all aglow by a wonderfully vivid imagination, reveal a strong, passionate nature uncurbed by prophetic discipline and experience. He heard Jehovah in the voice of older prophecy and of history, and on the basis of his profound belief in the consistency and justice of Jehovah, he interpreted the stirring events of his time.
2. As in the case of Joel, so in that of Obadiah, a book of similar tendency, the question of date is uncertain. The settlement of this point turns mainly upon the relation of Obadiah to Jer_49:7-22. But the general standpoint in regard to the nations, which are objects of judgment not of grace, may betoken either an early or a late date. The day of distress mentioned in Oba_1:11-14 may have been the destruction of the city and the Temple by the Chaldæans in 586; or it may have been some earlier occasion, such as the capture of the city by united bands of Philistines and Arabs in Jehoram's reign (848-844) described in 2Ch_21:16-17. There seems to be one verse of Joel (Joe_2:32) which makes a distinct reference to Oba_1:17. If he is post-Exilic he cannot have been later than Joel. In any case the terms used of Edom's conduct by Obadiah seem to be too strong to refer to any mere predatory excursion. On the whole it seems best to treat the question of date as entirely open; but the indications are in favour of the conclusion that the book, in its present form, while it incorporates earlier elements, belongs to the post-Exilic period, when the former fate of Edom was perhaps commonly regarded as “an episode in Jehovah's judgment on the heathen generally.”
3. The Book of Obadiah is a well-constructed unity, clear and direct in aim, terse in expression. It is characterized by sound moral feeling and firm religious faith. The style is blunt and soldier-like-not rich or graceful in any way, but full of rugged dramatic force. “The speech of Obadiah,” says Umbreit, “comes as if freshly quarried from the rocks. He has no flowery expressions, no picturesque descriptions; it is as though he had hewn out his prophecy from the cliffs of Petra.”
Pusey's quotation from Hugo of St. Victor may put us on the track of deriving a true spiritual lesson from the little book: “Obadiah is simple in language, manifold in meaning; few in words, abundant in thoughts, according to that ‘the wise man is known by the fewness of his words.' He directeth his prophecy, according to the letter, against Edom; allegorically he inveighs against the world; morally against the flesh. Bearing an image of the Saviour, he hinteth at His coming through whom the world is destroyed, through whom the flesh is subdued, through whom freedom is restored.”1 [Note: R. F. Horton, The Minor Prophets, 183.]
4. In the Book of Obadiah, as we have seen, the special foe of Israel is Edom. The offence of Edom was aggravated by the nearness of its kinship to Israel. Observe the passionate force of the term “brother” in the tenth verse: “for the slaughter, for the outraging of thy brother, shame doth cover thee.” The bitter strain of the Book of Obadiah is explained to a great degree in the use of that word. The two races, despite their border warfare, had a common origin. “Blood is thicker than water.” Whatever private division may have existed in a family or a nation, there is innate honour in the rule of nature which calls on brethren of one blood to stand shoulder to shoulder against a common foe. When, in the day of trouble, kinship is not only denied but kindred are seen fiercely triumphant over a rival brother and eagerly assisting the truculent enemy, human nature is outraged in its most sacred sentiments. Intellect and heart alike rebel against this desecration of the inner shrine. It is not merely the miserable, narrow-minded spite of such action that is so utterly contemptible to a naturally broad intellect; there is something worse. All thought of the generous, chivalric feeling that ennobles man and is native to those of one birth, even the meanest, is not only disregarded but trampled on.
Man is seen at his lowest in heart and intellect when he denies the claim of blood-kinship; and when he adds to his callous offence a warm espousal of the cause of a ruthless oppressor, the treachery can scarcely be either forgotten or forgiven during the life of a man or that of a nation. If the massacre of Glencoe be recalled to the memory of Scotsmen, let it only be so to understand the undying sense of wrong that had so burned itself into the heart of the Jewish nation that the 137th Psalm-a beautiful, pathetic song of exile, which still brings tears to the eyes as we think of those who hung their harps on the willow trees by the waters of Babylon and sighed for a return to their beloved capital-is concluded with a curse on the old-time inhumanity and treachery of Edom.1 [Note: T. McWilliam, Speakers for God, 188.]
5. When the actual Edomites ceased to be, the name was transferred by the Jews first to tyrant Rome and then to persecuting Christendom, and the impassioned words of Obadiah became a favourite vehicle for the expression of national and religious hatred. That is a misunderstanding and a misuse of the book. The prophecy is, indeed, instigated by indignation against Edom, and the retributive destruction of that people is its theme. But the subject is worked out in a large fashion that precludes the suspicion of petty vengefulness, and justifies the book's place in the record of revelation. The motive is not the gratification of national spite, nor is the aim either to warn or to edify the Edomites. The seer speaks out of the need of his own heart and to the hearts of his people. What creates his vision and compels its utterance is an indestructible sense of the eternal justice and fidelity, and of the Divine destiny of Israel in building up the Kingdom of God on earth. The tragedy of Edom is but a part in the great drama. It is therefore presented on a vast stage, and has the world's history for its background. Very real and concrete to the prophet, no doubt, are the antagonisms of Israel and his enemies, but none the less really and consciously, even if in a fashion grand beyond his conceptions, it is the collision of universal forces and everlasting principles that is embodied in them. Limited and material the presentment of those issues may be, but they carry in their bosom the consummation of the ages. Within the rivalry of Edom and Israel there was wrapped the eternal antithesis of truth and falsehood, good and evil; and the vision of an earthly kingdom on Mount Zion is finding its fulfilment in the silent, slow, but sure advent of the Kingdom of God and of our Christ.
In a letter written from San Remo in the first week of February, 1874, Dr. Ker thus refers to the coming of the Kingdom of God: “This is an age of a very mixed character, so much to make one doubtful and anxious, and yet so much to encourage. Almost every part of the world has its little company of workers, who are looking about them to see how they can make the world better and help the coming kingdom of truth and peace. I have been struck with this in moving about, and I find that when you break through the first reserve there are more people thinking about these things than one at first imagines. The olives cover all the hills as I look out at this window, with their unvaried smoky-green (I do not mean to say I dislike them for all that) yet they never show the touch of spring's finger on their leaves; but underneath, I know, in many sheltered nooks already, are the sweet-scented violets and hyacinths and purple anemones, and the fig-tree is putting forth her green figs, and we know that summer is nigh.”1 [Note: Letters of the Rev. John Ker, 237.]
