“You shouldn’t have looked upon your sibling on that day—the day of their nightmares, or rejoiced because the day of destruction had come upon the Children of Judah. You shouldn’t have acted as though you were better than them on that disastrous day, and shouldn’t have entered the gate of my people on that day of disaster. No, you should not have stared at them in their misery, or sent away their leaders on that sad, sad day. You should not have stood in their escape route, cutting off the fugitives. And you certainly should not have caught and then handed over their survivors on that horrible day” (Obadiah 1.12-14).
There’s an unwritten sibling rule that if one of you is in trouble, the other (or others) should stay out of sight. Stay in your room, keep out of the line of fire, lest your parents annoyance with your brother or sister spill over on you.
And you most certainly don’t attempt to join in with your parents, lecturing or scolding your sibling. That’s not just a good way to get yourself in trouble; it’s mean. It’s not what families do for each other.
Edom was the land of Esau’s lineage, Judah to Jacob, the younger brother. They are sibling nations, bound by blood and history. And Edom, according to the prophet, violated the unwritten sibling rule when Babylon descended upon Jerusalem.
The actions of Brother Edom, however, go beyond just joining in with mom and dad on lecturing. According to the prophet, they participated in the destruction and capture of its sibling: blocking the path of refugees, handing over the leadership to Babylon, and, maybe worst of all, taking joy in their misery.
It sounds unimaginable that this people, even with such a long history of animosity, would take such pleasure in its neighbor’s destruction. While we could forgive them remaining quiet, hiding behind their own walls and hoping the ire that’s fallen upon their sibling doesn’t spill on them, to actively participate in their destruction, their humiliation seems beyond the pale. This is, after all, family.
And, in the Bible’s view, we’re all family.
Some are more distant and removed cousins than others, but everyone traces back to the same moment when the dust of earth was given breath. Breath they breathe today. The whole of creation is, in some way, family.
Siblings fight. Families disagree. They don’t stop being family. They may not be able to stand being in the same room with each other, but the lineage, the ties to history remain the same. They’re still bound together, somehow, by the blood in their veins, the characteristics of their faces and voices, the breath they breathe.
Maybe this is why Paul remind us that there is one faith, one baptism, one God who is the parent of everyone. Despite the differences or distances, each one of us is bound up in the history of one another. Borders and regimes may have given us different narratives, but the story always traces back to the fact we are siblings from way, way back.
And siblings, we know, don’t hang each other out to dry. We don’t take joy in our brother’s suffering, or build barriers to halt their escape from danger. We don’t stare in fascination as our sisters are left hungry and homeless in the streets or offer them shelter just to turn them over to those who wish them harm. We should, at the least, have the decency to lower our eyes in sorrow even though there might be nothing we can do to help them.
After all, that’s the unwritten rule, isn’t it?
Christ our brother, everyone we meet, see on the news, and whose names are far away and strange is your family, and ours. Teach us to care for our siblings—to shelter the fleeing, hide the hunted, and weep with the suffering. Because we all breathe the breath from your lips and are bound by your love.