Notes for  20 June 2026

Obadiah's words, addressed to Judah's age-old enemy - Edom - raise the question of what is sometimes called historical justice. At first glance it appears that the prophet has precisely this in mind when he says that on the day of Yahweh (the day of the Lord), the same thing will happen to Edom that happened to Judah, which was devastated to the delight of its longtime opponent, who took advantage of the situation. What, then, is Obadiah speaking of when he mentions the day of Yahweh? The Day of Judgment? It is possible: apocalyptic moods were characteristic of his era. But sometimes the day of Yahweh (especially in the pre-exilic period) also meant times of any disaster that fell upon a country and people, and that disaster itself was considered God's judgment.

It is quite possible that the prophet has exactly this in mind, foreseeing that soon after Judah's defeat, over which Edom rejoices so much, its own turn will come. It would seem that here is the triumph of that very historical justice: the one who rejoiced over another's misfortune receives, in the literal sense, what he deserves, experiencing exactly what he had just rejoiced over while looking at his neighbor's troubles. But justice presupposes strict adherence to the Torah by the one who wants to restore it. And vengeance has never been a means of fulfilling the commandment: the Torah reluctantly permits it in certain cases as a concession to the bad tradition of fallen humanity, setting clear limits for it, but by no means encourages it. "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" is not a prescription but a limitation, necessary so that for one knocked-out eye the offender would not have both eyes knocked out, and for one knocked-out tooth, all thirty-two. Meanwhile, in the situation of which the prophet speaks, the principle "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" is precisely what we see - from the standpoint of the Torah, the worst of all possible principles.

But in the fallen world it is usually exactly this principle that operates. And it presupposes not so much God's action as His nonintervention in the situation, what in theological language is usually called permission. Of course, this nonintervention is relative: God still does not give the warring sides complete freedom, otherwise in the end no one would remain alive on earth. Yet such mutual extermination of people is certainly not part of God's plan, and He does not want the sort of "compensations" Obadiah speaks of at all. But if God's people turn away from the Creator, they become like everyone else, one among the many peoples living on earth, subject to the laws common to all in the fallen world, which regard the principle "an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth" as "higher justice."

God is one for all, and therefore He saves everyone: both Jews and Gentiles, circumcised and uncircumcised, clean and unclean (for He does not turn away from the leper). He saves all by faith, not by works. But what does this faith consist in? It turns out that for God to become salvation for us, we must not only listen to His words but also do them. What a paradox! On the one hand - only faith; on the other - by not doing God's will, we risk ending up under the wreckage of our own life.

Many times we have read about how the Lord works miracles and saves His people from enemies far stronger than they are. In today's reading everything is the opposite. The Syrians, Israel's enemies, are few - but the Lord removes His hands. He had led, He had protected - but they rejected Him and thereby refused His protection. He removes His hands, He stops protecting - and all the consequences of Israel's sins fall upon it. Defeat in battle with the Syrians is only the outward expression of the terrible spiritual catastrophe that occurred with Israel.

Today's reading includes a messianic hymn (vv. 1-7) linking the Messiah's earthly ministry with Galilee - a place of no religious distinction. There were no major Yahwist religious centers here like those that existed farther south, in Samaria, and Jerusalem with its Temple was, by local standards, rather far away. But none of this prevented Galilee from hearing the preaching of the Messiah-Christ or from becoming the place where the Savior's childhood passed.

External greatness and ancient tradition do not always help the work of God. Who knows what Jesus' childhood would have been like if He had spent it not in quiet Nazareth, but in Jerusalem? God's plan often requires quietness and hiddenness, especially at the first stages, when its fulfillment is only beginning. Human plans, by contrast, often assume from the very start noise, fame, and the earthly greatness that fallen man loves so much (vv. 8-10).

Today's reading not accidentally contrasts despised Galilee with the Kingdom of Israel. The irony of the situation was that Galilee belonged, though not completely, to this state, but was considered in it a remote backwater, of no interest to anyone and of no distinction. All the large cities and all the important political and religious centers of the country lay farther south, in Samaria. Galilee, however, was a border region already partly settled by Gentiles (which is why the prophet calls it "of the nations," v. 1). But centuries passed, and of the Kingdom of Israel, whose rulers were proud of the greatness of their, in essence, quite small country, only memories remained. And the most famous city in this land today is not even Bethel, which was the religious capital of the North and one of the most ancient Yahwist religious centers, but Nazareth, which in the flourishing era of the Northern Kingdom did not yet exist at all and later was by no means distinguished by fame until it was glorified by the One to whom Isaiah bore witness.

Before us is a solemn psalm filled with reverence before the Creator's majesty, permeated with the fear of God - the only fear that does not humiliate but frees and lifts a person up. The majestic picture of the Lord's procession over the nations allows us to recall motifs well known to us from other biblical books, preserved in prayers composed by many righteous people and psalmists. But now before us is another facet of knowing God, and it is grasped no longer by former knowledge, but by living faith that drew from the prophet's heart a confession of faithfulness.

We see a new quality of faithfulness to the Creator, inseparably connected with the revelation about faith. Habakkuk's faith does not depend at all on whether he receives anything from the Lord. Habakkuk is ready to turn to Him not in order to ask anything of Him, not to solve some practical tasks. No, he is ready to follow Him completely without self-interest: he is certain that God's truth is itself more valuable than earthly goods and life's prosperity. Everything else necessary for people the Lord will give them - it will, as will be said later, be added. But He wants to give a person much more than that person can imagine on the basis of earthly experience.

Israel's history is full of examples of how the people's weak faith led to defeats, while trust in God led to victories. Each of us surely knows from personal experience how true this is in our own life as well. The bronze serpent became the most vivid symbol of this pattern. Everyone who lifted his eyes to heaven to look at it received healing from the wounds caused by unbelief. Christ connects the standard on which the serpent was lifted with His own cross (Jn 3:14), thereby testifying that He is the One in whom the new Israel must trust - mighty God and Father of the age to come.