Sefer Ovadya | The Relationship Between Yehuda and Edom

The book of Ovadya is the shortest in the Tanakh, consisting of a single chapter only. It contains a prophecy of doom against Edom, recalling its sins against Israel and promising that God will repay Edom according to its deeds. Throughout the Tanakh, many prophecies are directed against various nations, yet Edom stands out — not only in Ovadya, but across the entire Tanakh — for the sheer intensity and frequency of the condemnations leveled against it: We find prophecies against Edom in Yeshayahu, Yirmiyahu, and Yechezkel; in Ovadya itself; in Tehillim 137; in verses from Eikha; and in the sharp denunciation of Malakhi. In a lecture given during Herzog’s Yemei Iyun b’Tanakh (which we’ve linked to here before), Prof. Elie Assis surveys several widely accepted approaches in both traditional and academic scholarship regarding why Edom was singled out for such fierce judgment against them:

Some suggest that the root of the hostility lies in the relationship between Edom and Israel dating back to the founding of the nations — from the days of Yaakov and Esav — and continuing through the First Temple period. Others point to Edom’s actions during the destruction of the Kingdom of Yehuda, As Ovadya writes: “Do not gloat over its misfortune on the day of its ruin. Do not extend your hands to take its wealth on the day of his ruin. Do not stand at the crossroads to cut down his refugees. Do not surrender his survivors on the day of trouble” (Ovadya 1:13–14). Yet others suggest the sin lies in what Edom did after the destruction, when they seized territory that had once belonged to Israel. As Yechezkel describes: “Because you said, ‘The two nations and the two lands will be mine; we will possess it’” (Yechezkel 35:10). The difficulty with all three explanations is that these crimes were not unique to Edom—many other nations committed similar transgressions.

A fourth, widely accepted approach shifts from the historical to the conceptual, suggesting Edom is not merely a geopolitical nation, but a symbol of evil itself. This interpretation became especially prevalent among medieval commentators, who read these prophecies as denouncing Rome and Christianity. But even this approach raises a question: why was Edom chosen as the symbol of evil?

Prof. Assis offers a fifth possibility – one that centers on the theological struggle between the two nations. In Bereishit, Yitzhak originally believed that Esav would share in his legacy alongside Yaakov. There is no explicit reason given for Esav’s rejection. During the exile, when the people of Yehuda had been cast from their land and feared that God had abandoned them forever (as we saw in Yechezkel) a terrifying thought had probably entered their minds: perhaps they had been rejected, and it was Esav who had been chosen to inherit the Shekhina. The prophets respond with unyielding insistence: God will take vengeance on Edom and destroy them. In Edom’s downfall, the chosenness of Israel will be clear. This is not a struggle over a historical injustice, nor is it merely an ideological debate. It is, above all, a question of identity.

Seen in this light, the medieval shift from Edom to Christianity becomes even more understandable. Christianity, too, posed an identity-based threat. Who is the chosen people? Is there now a new covenant? A central pillar of Christian theology is the claim that the lowliness of the Jewish people proves their rejection—and, by extension, the divine election of the Church. Against this too, Ovadya declares: “And saviors shall go up to Mount Zion to judge the mountain of Esav, and the dominiom shall be the Lord’s” (Ovadya 1:21).