The Book of Tobias

Denis Hallinan, "The Book of Tobias. -II." Irish Ecclesiastical Record, Third Series, Volume VII. (1886) pp. 898-911.

In replying to the difficulties against the veracity of the Book of Tobias, as outlined in our last,¹ we will take up, in the first place, the one derived from the silence of profane history, especially that of Assyria, and of Josephus, the historian of the Jews, regarding the events contained in this book.

It is a well recognised canon of historic criticism that silence, at most, is a negative argument, and of little or no force against the positive testimony of trustworthy witnesses. This is specially true when the authors, whose silence has to be accounted for, were not called on to speak, or other valid reasons can be assigned for their not having done so. Now, on the one hand, besides the author of the book himself, who writes in a simple, candid, and historic style, and whose veracity cannot be directly impugned, we have St. Polycarp, St. Clement of Alexandria, Origen, the author of the Apostolic Constitutions, St. Basil, St. Ambrose, St. Cyprian, St. Augustine, appealing to its authority, and drawing quotations from it, as from the other inspired writings.² It is contained in the Catalogue of the Council of Hippo and the Third Council of Carthage, and mention of it is made in the letter of Innocent I to Xuperius. In a word, all the arguments from tradition which can be adduced for its inspiration, a fortiori avail for its human authority. But what is of greater importance is, that even these Fathers who, like St. Jerome, wavered about its divinity for reasons not necessary to be given here, are almost unanimous in declaring that it was read by the Jews, regarded as true history, and received by them with great veneration. Against this array of positive proof, the silence of Assyrian historians is urged. Who can say if they were silent? With the exception of a few fragments, their writings have all perished. Even if we were to concede their silence, what then? The history of Tobias, charming and interesting as it was, was still that of only a few private individuals, and hence its non-appearance in the public records of a mighty empire is quite compatible with its entire veracity.

Nor does the silence of Josephus count for more. His scope was to write, not a complete history of the Jews, but only of those events contained in the Books of the Esdrine Canon, among which we have stated Tobias was not enumerated; and even of these his history is defective, as he makes no allusion whatsoever to the Book of Job, notwithstanding its existence in this catalogue.

But, say our adversaries, the narrative which represents God's angel as guilty of lying, can lay no claim to true history. Such is the Book of Tobias. For when interrogated by the younger Tobias, whence he was, and if he knew the way to the country of the Medes, the Angel Raphael is said to have replied that he was "of the children of Israel," and that he often "walked through all the ways" (to that country). Again, when asked to what family and tribe he belonged, he made answer, "I am Azarias, son of the great Ananias."

We deny the minor proposition of this difficulty. We must bear in mind the well known distinction between telling a lie and concealing the truth. The one is intrinsically bad, and never lawful; the other, when there is a justifying cause, is lawful. I say, when there is a justifying cause; because the indiscriminate use of such reservation would be opposed to the public good, and subversive of human intercourse. But, on the other hand, circumstances arise when it is not only expedient, but may be a matter of obligation to conceal the truth. When other means of attaining this end are wanting, all persons admit the liceity of an ambiguous phrase, capable of two interpretations, one of which at least is true, though perhaps less obvious than the other. The error, if any, follows on the part of the listener, is not directly intended, but merely permitted by the speaker for a just cause. This distinction, and the principles on which it rests, are admitted by all moralists, and have the sanction of unquestioned legitimate usage in human society.

Keeping this before our minds, it will be seen how the charge of falsehood against the angel, based on the narrative, cannot be sustained. The charge rests, in the first place, on the fact of his having concealed his real nature under a human form. If on this ground the angel be convicted of lying, so may Christ, who for a time concealed Himself from the Magdalen under the appearance of a gardener (John xx., 14, 15); and from the Disciples, on the road to Emmaus, under that of a pilgrim. (Luke xxiv., 15.) Surely Whittaker, our Calvinist and principal adversary in urging this objection, will not accuse Christ of falsehood and sin in thus acting. If it was lawful for Christ, why not for the Angel?

Again, if the narration of angelic apparitions in human guise were enough to discredit the veracity of an author, then away at once with Genesis and the other books of Sacred Scripture, in which like narrations are contained, and which, notwithstanding, are not rejected by our adversary. In truth, when the angels are deputed by God to treat with men in a human fashion, being of quite a different nature, they have to assume a sensible human form. The Angel Raphael was sent by God to act as a guide to the younger Tobias, to and from the land of the Medes. If from the beginning he had manifested himself, they would have been both filled with reverential awe, as they really were when, after his return from Rages, he made himself known: "And being seized with fear, they fell upon the ground on their face... and lay there for three hours prostrate." (Chap. xii., 14.) Hence he assumed the appearance of a specific young man, Azarias, one to whom the elder Tobias would not fear to entrust the safe guidance of his son, and with whom at the same time he could converse familiarly and act without restraint as with a companion...

[And if in doing this for the purpose of concealing himself there was nothing unlawful, neither was there in describing himself as he did to the younger Tobias. For these] replies of the angel may be well understood of his own person, though in a sense somewhat broader and adapted to the angelic nature and functions. He was, "of the children of Israel" not by origin, but by reason of his office, having by divine deputation been constituted their guardian, he in a certain sense belonged to them; "he often walked through all the ways thereof" not on foot, horse or chariot, but by being present now in one province or city, now in another, in the discharge of his angelic ministrations, wherever the children of Israel were dispersed. Finally, having regard to the etymology of the words, well may he call himself "Azarias," which means "help from God," and such Raphael truly was to Tobias; "son of Ananias," that is, "son of the hidden God," or "of God dwelling in the clouds," for we know that in Scriptural language the angels are frequently styled the "sons of God."

But the writer who contradicts himself is unworthy of credit. Now, in chap, iii., 7. and again chap. vi., 6, Raguel is represented as living in "Rages, a city of the Medes," and yet in chap. ix., 3, we are told that the younger Tobias while staying in the house of Raguel requested the angel to go to "Rages, the city of the Medes," to fetch the money from Gabelus, and invite him to the wedding. How explain this contradiction?

If we had to reply from a Catholic or Christian standpoint, presupposing the divine authorship of the Book of Tobias, the answers to this and such like difficulties should be in general, that as no falsehood can be admitted in the inspired writings, neither can any real contradiction. Such a contradiction would be equivalent to God contradicting Himself. That there are apparent contradictions, and these rather numerous we do not deny. It would be nothing less than a miracle if there were not, considering the different authors by whom, and the different epochs at which they were composed, as well as the difficulty of the subjects of which they treat. The causes of such seeming contradictions as well as a key to the solution of them are summed up by St. Augustine in these words "aut codex mendosus, aut interpres erravit, aut tu non intelligis."

In the present case, prescinding altogether from the canonicity of the Book of Tobias, as according to the terms of our thesis we are bound to do, our reply is: The authority of the book is in possession, the presumption is in its favour; consequently if we can give even one probable solution of the contradiction, our adversaries are bound to accept it, or disprove its probability, rather than reject the veracity of the author.

May we not then suppose, as many do, that there were two cities by name of Rages, as there were two Bethlehems in Palestine, or as now there are two Viennas in Europe, in one of which dwelt Raguel with his daughter, and in the other Gabelus, to whom Tobias sent the angel? This supposition has a foundation in the text. In speaking of Rages, in which Gabelus dwelt, the author adds, "which is situate in the Mount of Ecbatana" (chap. v., 8), thereby, perhaps, distinguishing it from the other Rages in which Sara lived.

Or again, may we not adopt the explanation of others, who allege, that in the time of Tobias, Rages was the name not only of a city, but likewise of a country or province, just as we have Dublin the name of a county as well as of a city? If this hypothesis be true, the difficulty vanishes. As with perfect truth one may say of two persons that they reside in Dublin, one of whom lives in the county, the other in the city of Dublin, so Raguel and Gabelus may both live in Rages, and yet be far asunder, one living in the province of that name, the other in the city. The Chaldaic words "medina" or "medintha," as well as the Latin "civitas" are sometimes used to designate a province as well as a city.

Or may we not adopt the somewhat kindred and more probable solution given by Bellarmine (L. 1, de Verbo Dei, cap. 11) and now received with greatest accord by commentators, viz., that Rages was not only the name of a city, but was used in a broader sense to designate suburban residences or villas, as a person residing at Blackrock may be said to be in Dublin? Raguel being a rich man, in all probability had not only a city residence but likewise a suburban villa, near enough to Rages to be said to be in it in common parlance, and distant enough to warrant the writer in saying that Raphael was sent to the city of Rages. If then we suppose with the supporters of this opinion, that Raguel and Sara at the time of the marriage ceremony or immediately after it, lived in some suburban residence, the journey of the angel to the city at the request of Tobias, and his return with Gabelus to partake in the nuptial festivals are all easily understood and quite in harmony with the text.

Finally, there are some, who with Medina (De Recta fide lib. vi., ch. xiv.) and Marchini (De Libro Tobiae) suspect that in chap. iii., 7, an error has crept into the text of the Vulgate, so that for Rages Medorum, the reading should be Ecbatane Medorum. The foundation for this opinion is that in the Hebrew versions of Munster and Fagii, as well as in the Syriac and ancient Greek ones, this reading is found.

These are the principal solutions of this difficulty given by biblical scholars. They are all more or less probable, and any one of them is sufficient to explain the apparent contradiction, which, as I have said, is enough for our purpose.

The history of the demon Asmodeus furnishes matter for the gravest difficulties which can be urged against the authority of the Book of Tobias. In chap. iii., 8, it is related that Sara "had been given to seven husbands, and that a devil named Asmodeus had killed them at their first going into her." In the Greek version, vi. 15, it is added that the "devil loved her."

Again chap viii., 1 &c., we are told that when Tobias was admitted into the nuptial chamber "remembering the angel's words he took out of his bag part of the liver (of the fish) and laid it upon burning coals. Then the angel Raphael took the devil, and bound him in the desert of upper Egypt." In this history three things appear to our adversaries utterly incredible and absurd. First, that the demon killed the seven husbands of Sara. Secondly, that the demon was put to flight by the odour or smoke from the liver of a fish laid on burning coals. And thirdly, that the angel took and bound him in the desert of upper Egypt, as if a spirit could be taken and bound within certain limits.

Before approaching the solution of these difficulties, we will make a few preliminary observations which may help to throw light on the issue to be discussed. We must repeat, even at the risk of wearying our readers by the repetition, that the authority of the Book is in possession - the voice of tradition has borne it down to us as trustworthy history. The adversaries do not even attempt to impugn this argument. The most they can dare is try to disprove its veracity by pointing out contradictions as in the case of the difficulty last treated, or absurdities and impossibilities as in the present one.

Now if any history relate as a fact what is known to be impossible, or things that are clearly incompatible, so far it must be untrue: and if such impossibilities and inconsistencies be frequent, it forfeits altogether a claim to be regarded a truthful narrative. This nobody can deny. But we must not regard nor reject as impossible what we are unable to explain. Many things happen of which we are perfectly certain, though we do not know how they happen. That the body and soul act and react on each other we know; how this happens we know not. When a fact is established by indisputable proof, we must accept that fact even though we may not be able to point out the means by which it was brought about.

Again, we must not reject as impossible what is only improbable. History furnishes many examples in proof of the old saying - it is very probable that a great many improbable things will take place. What was less probable a few weeks ago, than what is to-day a matter of history, viz., the mysterious abduction of Prince Alexander of Bulgaria, his speedy restoration to the throne of his devoted subjects, and then his immediate abdication; or again ten years ago what was more improbable than that Dublin Castle, Irish Landlordism and all the kindred factors of what was then an apparently impregnable institution would be to-day crumbling to pieces before the assault of a united Irish democracy? And are these facts to be rejected by future generations in the face of convincing testimony because of their antecedent improbability?

Finally, we must not imagine, as modern unbelievers would have us do, that because a thing is extraordinary, outside the common ordinary course of things, therefore it is false, and ought to be relegated to the regions of romance. This deep-rooted dislike for the extraordinary is considered a necessary passport now-a-days in order to be ranked amongst philosophers of schools of "modern thought." Let us hear the scathing exposure of such an assumption by the learned Balmez. In letter xxv. he writes:

First of all allow me to remark that the want of belief in extraordinary things, is not always a sure sign of much philosophy; for this incredulity can spring from ignorance, in which case it is stubborn, tenacious, and little less than invincible. We meet this phenomenon in a striking manner when we converse with ill-instructed and proud people. As the lower orders have often heard that there are many deceits in the world and big lies are told, they take that vulgarity for criterion, and mercilessly apply it to everything out of the common order... Paschal has said with much truth, that there are two classes of ignorant people, those who are completely so, and those who having attained the highest degree of wisdom, have a clear knowledge of their own ignorance. The saying is in some manner applicable to incredulity in extraordinary things. Truly wise men have an incredulity on this head, tempered by reason, and ever subject to the conditions of possibility which observation or the light of science has taught them. In general, we might say, these men are incredulists, with some timidity, and not unfrequently inclined to believe the extraordinary. When one penetrates into the abysses as well of the physical as of the intellectual and moral world, the profundities he discovers are such, the mysteries he sees flitting among the shades, pierced with some rays of light, so numerous, that great thinkers - those who have approached the edge of these abysses, contemplating their unfathomable depths - scarcely meet anything of which they presume to say, this has been, this will not be, this is impossible. Such men do not start at the word extraordinary, because they discover in what appears the most ordinary phenomena, a multitude of extraordinary things; or, to speak with more exactness, a multitude of things more incomprehensible, the more ordinary they are... What is all nature but an immense mystery? Have we ever meditated on life? Has any philosopher ever comprehended in what that magic power consists, which walks by ways unknown; which acts by incomprehensible means, which moves, and agitates and beautifies; which produces sweetest pleasures, and causes insupportable torments, which is within us and without us; which is not found when sought, and presents itself when unthought of; which propagates in the midst of corruption, which incessantly becomes inflamed and extinguished in innumerable individuals, which flits as an imperceptible flame in the atmospheric regions, on the face and in the bowels of the earth, in the currents of rivers, on the surface and in the depths of the ocean? Is there not a mystery, and an incomprehensible mystery here? Do you not see here - do you not palpably feel a something which does not come under that ordinary thing you would confound with philosophy?

Electricity, galvanism, magnetism, certainly present extraordinary phenomena. Shall we deny because we do not comprehend them? And shall we delude ourselves into the belief that we comprehend them, simply because some of their effects are visible? When you fix your attention on those secrets of nature, do you not feel possessed by a profound feeling cf astonishment? Have you never asked yourself what is there behind that veil with which nature covers her secrets? Have you not felt that small philosophy which cries the ordinary, the ordinary disappear, and discovered the necessity of replacing it with the sublime idea that all is extraordinary? Instead of that little sentiment, which confounds the philosopher into the vulgar, and communicates to him a miserable incredulity with regard to extraordinary things, have you not experienced a secret inclination to see in all parts the stamp of the extraordinary ? ...Oh! then that philosophy which talks of the ordinary - of the common - and has a ridiculous horror of everything extraordinary or mysterious, appears little indeed.

It is needless to apologise for giving at such length this powerful exposure of the inconsistency of the enemies of the extraordinary, or for prefacing our direct reply to the difficulty by these few obvious principles, which are often overlooked by our adversaries.

Whether the word Asmodeus meaning "exterminans" is a generic name applicable to any of the evil spirits, or a specific one proper and peculiar to one demon because of his office, or whether he was the prince of demons, or, as Calmet opines, the demon of impurity, these and similar questions on which nothing can be asserted with certainty do not concern us; it is our business to show that the things related of the demon in the book of Tobias are neither absurd, nor impossible.

That the devil should kill the seven husbands of a woman is an unusual and singular event, all will admit; that his doing so is absurd or impossible we utterly deny. On the contrary, pre-supposing, as we here do by the right of discussion, the existence of bad angels and their malignant hatred of the human race, it is no matter of surprise to find him carrying into effect, when God permits, his evil desires against man. The Book of Holy Job, as well as the pages of ecclesiastical history, bear ample testimony to the fact that God does so permit him. Why he does so it is not for us too curiously to inquire. That he should do so in an individual case for the punishment of crime and the fulfilment of His own Providence will not seem strange to many. Now it is the common opinion of scriptural interpreters founded on the words of the angel, that the devil killed these men, with God's permission, because of their unbridled lust. For when Tobias alluded to their death, the angel said to him. Chap. vi., 16:

Hear me, and I will show thee who they are, over whom the devil can prevail. For they who in such manner receive matrimony, as to shut out God from themselves, and from their mind, and give themselves to their lust, as the horse and mule, which have not understanding, over them the devil hath power...

In which he clearly suggests the reason of the devil's power over these men. Sara too had evidently strong suspicions of the same, for in her beautiful prayer, chap. iii., 18, she says:

But a husband I consented to take with thy fear, not with my lust. And either I was unworthy of them, or they perhaps were unworthy of me.

And thus the devil was used by God not only as the avenger of His offended majesty, but likewise as the instrument of His special providence in regard to Sara. For while he punished them for their lust, the chaste Sara he dared not touch, but rather preserved her undefiled for one who was worthy of her, as the angel manifested to her father, Raguel, chap. vii., 12:

Be not afraid to give her to this man, for to him who feareth God is thy daughter due to be his wife, therefore another could not have her.

In the Greek version, we have said, it is stated that the devil loved her, thus insinuating that jealousy was the motive of the devil's action. But there is grave reason for doubting if these words, which are found only in the Greek, belonged to the original text. They are not in the Vulgate nor consequently in the Chaldaic manuscript used by St. Jerome. But granting that they belong to the text, what then? Tobias merely said that he heard it - that is, there was a rumour, and possibly even a popular belief to that effect - the truthfulness of which neither Tobias nor the author guarantees. Even if we were to go farther, and concede that the younger Tobias himself believed this rumour, still the author of the book is absolutely free from any responsibility regarding it - he simply narrates the words spoken by Tobias, without becoming sponsor for their conformity to the real state of things. In a word, the author of the book does not say that the devil loved Sara - he tells us that Tobias said so, which is quite a different thing.

But who can believe that the demon was expelled by the smoke from the liver of a fish laid on burning coals? There is nothing absurd or incredible in it whichever of the three explanations of interpreters we may choose to adopt. Some with Tirinus attribute the expulsion solely and exclusively to the action of the angel, the smoke contributing nothing directly or indirectly to his banishment, being merely a sign to denote the moment of the exercise of the angelic power and the departure of the demon. The Vulgate text is not opposed to such an explanation. In chap viii., 2 and 3, the reading is: "Tobias, remembering the Angel's words, took out of his bag part of the liver (of the fish), and laid it upon burning coals. Then the Angel Raphael took the devil, &c. ;" which words seem to refer the expulsion altogether to the angel. The words of the Greek Version, which indicate a closer connection between the smoke and the expulsion, may be explained without any violence in a metaphorical sense, the concurrence of the two events being a mere simultaneity without a dependence on one another as cause and effect, "post hoc sed non propter hoc."

There are others who ascribe, if not a direct, at least an indirect influence to the smoke. This opinion appears more in conformity with the whole context, for not only, as in chap. viii., 2 and 3, is the concurrence of the two events noted, but in chap, vi., 8, it is clearly affirmed by the angel that "the smoke thereof driveth away all kinds of devils either from man or from woman." The action of smoke on a pure spirit like Asmodeus could not be direct, but it may be indirect, in the sense that it possessed the property of allaying lust, which, as has been said, was the cause of the demon's influence over the seven husbands of Sara, and of thus inducing dispositions unfavourable to his presence. It is not necessary, say the advocates of this interpretation, to appeal to a miracle or any extraordinary intervention of Providence in attributing such a property to smoke, for the pages of profane writers (Pliny, Book xxiv., Chap. 9; Ovid, Book i.; and Plutarch, as well as Josephus, Antiq., Book viii., Chap. 2) ascribe to certain roots, plants, metals, and perfumes, properties which had an indirect influence over demons.

If the sound of David's harp banished the evil spirit from Saul (1 Kings, chap. xvi.), doubtless by the influence it exercised on the melancholy mood and passions of the king, why regard it as absurd or incredible that a like result in the same way should follow from the smoke of the liver of the fish?

Finally, may we not, as the erudite Ubaldi³ suggests, combine both explanations, and attribute the expulsion directe et formaliter to the angel, indirecte seu dispositive to the smoke?

The words used to express the action of the angel over the devil are clearly to be understood in a metaphorical sense suited to the angelic nature. What is more common than such a use of these words? Individuals and parties are said to be bound hand and foot, not in a physical sense, but by moral or legal obligations, or by a restriction of their freedom of action. Hence the angel's taking and binding the demon means simply that he overcame him, and hindered him from exercising his power, in the same sense as the angel is said in the Apocalypse (chap. xx., 2), to have "laid hold on the dragon, and bound him," or as in Jude, chap. i, 6, that the "angels who kept not their principality... He hath reserved under darkness in everlasting chains." "The binding of the devil," says St. Augustine,"means his not being permitted the full exercise of his power of tempting and seducing man by force or fraud."

The "desert of upper Egypt," where Asmodeus is said to be bound by the angel, may be understood in a metaphorical sense to express the utter discomfiture of the demon by his banishment to some very remote region where he would be powerless to do harm; or, if it be taken in the strict and literal sense, of having his operations confined to this particular region, surely no place could be found more suited for him, who, when he goeth forth from a man, "walks through dry places without water" (Mark, chap. xii., 43, Luke, chap. xi., 24), than upper Egypt, the sterile, sandy, uncultivated Thebaid of roaring cataracts and inaccessible ways, once the home of serpents and poisonous beasts, according to St. Jerome, later on, the famous retreat of holy hermits, where, according to ecclesiastical history, the demons, as if in defence of a prized citadel, entered into many a fierce and visible conflict with a St. Anthony, a Macarius, and a Paphnutius!

These are the principal difficulties urged against the authority of the Book of Tobias. We do not pretend to have treated the subject as fully and exhaustively as it might be done, and as it deserved; our aim has been to suggest and illustrate the general principles which should guide us in refuting the arguments and unravelling the sophistries of modern enemies of the Bible. We are sensible of having done but little, because we have had but little to offer from our scanty means. But in the temple of truth each may be allowed to make an offering, and while others bring their gold and their silver, and their precious stones, we may humbly venture to make our simple offering at least of hair and skin ! (St. Jerome, Prologus Galeatus.)

Denis Hallinan

[1] Irish Ecclesiastical Record, July, 1886, p. 589.

[2] In St. Patrick's Confession there is a quotation from the Book of Tobias, ch. xii. 7. "It is honourable to reveal and confess the works of God."

[3] Monsignore Ubaldo Ubaldi, Professor of Sacred Scripture in the College of the Propaganda and the Roman Seminary, was Cardinal in petto at the time of his lamented death nearly two years ago. He was then a comparatively young man, but of world wide fame for his vast erudition and especially his biblical lore. By the command of the reigning Pontiff he undertook and wrote learned defences of the Book of Ecclesiastes, Wisdom, &c., against the impious attacks of the infidel Renan. His Introduction to Sacred Scripture, in three volumes, is a work of singular merit, well known to students of Sacred Scripture. To an admirable order and lucidity of treatment it adds a solid and varied erudition, and is altogether, to use the words of the Roman Theological Censor, "a full and illustrious defence of Catholic doctrine," and especially useful in defending Sacred Scripture against the cavillings of modem scientists.