Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Greeks substituted goddess Athene for angel Raphael (Azarias)

 
 
 


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The Son’s Travels


(a) The Heavenly Visitor

The prayers of Tobit and Sarah, on the one hand, and of Odysseus and Penelope, on the other, were heard. Almighty God appointed the angel Raphael to assist the former two. And Zeus (supreme god of the Greeks) appointed the goddess Athene to assist the latter two.

With Odysseus still languishing as Calypso’s captive, and the suitors at play back at his home, “the almighty Father” sent Athene to Ithaca. “… she bound under her feet her lovely sandals of untarnished gold, which carried her with the speed of the wind …. Thus she flashed down from the heights of Olympus. On reaching Ithaca she took her stand on the threshhold of the court in front of Odysseus’ house; and to look like a visitor she assumed the appearance of a Taphian chieftain named Mentes, a bronze spear in hand (I, 27-28).

The reader will quickly be able to pick up the similarities between this text and this relevant part of the Book of Tobit: “The prayer of [Tobit and Sara] was heard in the presence of the glory of the great God. And Raphael was sent (3:16, 17)”. “Then Tobias … found a beautiful young man, standing girded, as it were ready to walk. And not knowing that he was an angel of God, he saluted him …. ‘I am Azarias, the son of the great Ananias’” (5:5, 6, 18).


(b) The Questioning

Tobit had interrogated the angel about the latter’s identity, asking: ‘My brother, to what tribe and family do you belong? Tell me …’ (5:9-12). Later Raguel would do the same: ‘Where are you from brethren? …. Do you know our brother Tobit? …. Is he in good health?’ (7:3, 4). [Cf. Isaiah 39:3; Judith 5:3, 4; Jonah 1:8].

In the Odyssey, too, the pattern is again most frequent, almost monotonous but with a Greek seafaring slant – e.g. the mention of a “vessel”). Telemachus, for instance, quizzes Athene: ‘However, do tell me who you are and where you come from. What is your native town? Who are your people? And since you certainly cannot have come on foot, what kind of vessel brought you here? (I, 29). [Cf. also pp. 72; 118; 164; 175; 208; 220].

Athene then replied to Telemachus, using a phrase that I suggest may have come straight out of the Book of Tobit, towards the end of which story the angel Raphael says (emphasis added in both cases): ‘I will not conceal anything from you’ (12:11). Thus Athene: “‘I will tell you everything’, answered the bright-eyed goddess Athene. ‘My father was the wise prince, Anchialus. My own name is Mentes, and I am a chieftain of the sea-faring Taphians’.” Now Anchialus, the name that Athene (in masculine guise) gave for her presumed father, has at least a vague resemblance to the name, Ananias, which the angel Raphael (also in masculine guise) attributed to his presumed father from the tribe of Naphtali. Athene also describes herself as a Taphian, in which name we might perhaps also glimpse Naphtalian.

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Sunday, October 20, 2013

Prophet Amos or a Jonah?


So You See Yourself as a Prophet? An Amos or a Jonah?
by Vernard Eller

This work may be freely reproduced and distributed provided that that no changes are made, no revenues are collected beyond the nominal cost of media, and credit is given to the author. Any other use requires the written permission of the author. Citing this material on other Internet sites is encouraged, but is to be done only by providing a hypertext reference to this file on this server.
Bible selections are from the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, copyright 1989 (NRSV) by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the USA. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
With some regularity today's social activists of the Christian Left appeal to the Old Testament prophets as precedent for their confrontational protest-witness against the powers. I here want to suggest that we will be in better position to evaluate that claim if we first decide whether, by "Old Testament prophet," we mean Amos or Jonah. There's a difference.
To launch the inquiry I now offer parallel, diagrammed sentences characterizing the work and message of Amos and of Jonah (conveniently ignoring Obadiah, whose book accidentally is sandwiched between the two we want to compare):
AMOSJONAH
1THE HOLY GODThe Tandem of HOLY GOD and HOLY-JEW JONAH
2acts in weeping judgmentacts in dry-eyed condemnation of
3UNHOLY HUMANITYUNHOLY NINEVITES
4to bring it to his Wine Festivalto bring them to Destruction

Amos (1)

Both Amos and Jonah betray a certain reticence regarding their callings--though the significance is entirely different in the two cases. First, regarding Amos, notice that he is not so much as named in the sentence-diagram pertaining to him. That is at his own request:
I am no prophet, nor a prophet's son; (Amos 7:14a)
"It would be wrong to name me along with the Holy God--as though I were somehow his colleague, confidant, or representative."
but I am a herdsman, and a dresser of sycamore trees,, and the LORD took me from following the flock, and the LORD said to me, "Go, prophesy to my people Israel." (Amos 7:14b-15)
"If you insist on naming me in your sentence, it should be down at No. 3, under 'Unholy Humanity.' God did commandeer my mouth--but I deserve no credit for that nor does it in any way affect my status. It clearly was not the case that he chose me because I was a 'prophet,' a holy man, an authority on holiness, or anything of the sort. I certainly hope you haven't been hearing me as thought I think I have the right and capability of making moral judgments on peoples, kings, and nations--showing them where they are wrong and telling them what they will have to do to get right in my eyes. I'm no prophet--nor even as much as a son of one."

Jonah (1)

Jonah, on the other hand, sees no problem at all in being identified with the Lord God of Israel. In fact, particularly in the face of no-good pagans, he is positively eager to so identify himself (whether God agrees or not):
I am a Hebrew .... I worship the LORD, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land. (Jon. 1:9)
Well, yes, he was stretching it a bit as to how much he worships the Lord; yet it doesn't hurt to strike a little fear into dumb pagans by letting them know with just whom they are dealing. And thus Jonah's reticence regarding his prophetic calling comes at a quite different point from Amos'. Jonah had a premonition (correct, as it proved) that the Lord might not let him be as big, tough, and damning a prophet as he had in mind for himself to be.
"What kind of a God of 'holy justice' do you think you are? --Going soft on these Ninevite devils just when we were set to really lay it in 'em."
Is not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to relent from punishing. (Jon. 4:2)
"And for that matter, just what kind of a 'prophet' do you think this leaves me looking like? Nothing doing. Either the word is 'Yet forty days and poof (and really mean it)--or else I quit."
Where, in the Amos sentence, appears the word "judgment," in the Jonah sentence is the word "condemnation." They are in no wise the same. When the Judge involved is the LORD, then "judgment" is but the necessary first word--the word of diagnosis as to precisely what is the sin-illness at the root of the difficulty, and this word comes first just so the next step of that "judgment" might be whatever redemptive punishment is called for in getting the problem corrected. However, completely to the contrary, "condemnation" is always a last word, after which there is nothing more to be said. Amos speaks judgment--gracious judgment.

Amos (3)

With No. 3, things fall into a true and properly theological alignment. God alone--the one true HOLY--is in the top spot; and all humans and everything that is human (Jews and Gentiles, prophets (including Amos himself), priest, and king) everything here falls equally under God's ultimately-gracious judgment.

Jonah (3)

However, the counterpart Jonah-alignment is not theological at all but is sheerly intra-human partisan politics. Although posing as a zeal for God, the business shows not a hint of the true God's ("gracious, merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and repenting of evil") actual involvement. No, the only "holy" is Jonah's holy Jewish self-righteousness and "God" but a name Jonah uses to justify his human-Jewish holy hatred of Ninevites. Under the guise of a "prophet of God," one sinful worldly (leftist) party that deems itself "holy" takes the opportunity to vent its spleen against another sinful worldly (rightist) party it has deemed "demonic." There is nothing of God in it--just political ideologies.

Amos (4)

With Amos, it turns out that--even through all the painful threat and punishment--God's actual purpose was to get people to his Wild and Wonderful Wine Festival:
The time is surely coming, says the LORD, when the one who plows shall overtake the one who reaps, and the treader of grapes the one who sows the seed;
the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it. (Amos 9:13)
Anyone who undertakes to drop a grape seed had better be prepared to leap smartly to one side to avoid having his heels clipped by the cluster-clippers coming closely behind. (Even if God's word is inerrant, I can't help but feel that Amos is exaggerating a bit.) The hills will be loaded with liquor--and the plains inevitably inundated. (I, too, feel the problem that comes with this scripture and so have initiated inquiries as to whether Amos might not permit the insertion of a not to the effect that non-alcoholic beverages will be available for pious prudes like myself.)

Jonah (4)

The very opposite of Amos, with Jonah we wind up with nothing but "grapes of wrath"--and these, too, growing fast and all over the place.
"Jonah," it is the Lord God who speaks, "you are an abomination and object of wrath to me. You are a 'prophet of God' who proclaims your own false Jingoistic Jewish Justice in place of my true justice. Because it offends your own perverted sense of righteousness, you flatly refuse to mention or to represent the grace and mercy of my righteousness. And now here you are bawling your eyes out over the loss of a dumb plant whose shade you valued--while trying to deny me the right to bewail the loss of a whole big cityful of my Ninevite children. I damn you, Jonah: if you can't bring yourself to regard Ninevites, can't you at least shed one little tear fro all those poor Ninevite cows? Amos has the grace to say he is not a prophet, yet is as true a one as they come. You have the gall to call yourself a prophet, but are as far from being one as can be."
I leave it to the readers to judge to what extent this analysis applies to those confrontational activists of the Christian Left who presently clam the status of Old Testament prophets. I will observe only that, in the tradition, being "a prophet of God" certainly is nothing a representative of the tradition takes any joy in being "speaker of judgment"; and our most honored examples were either reluctant to take on God's assignment or were on the lookout for opportunities actually to resign it. And conversely, in scripture, those who do seek the post or take satisfaction in it--these regularly turn out to be the Jonahs, Zedekiahs, Hananiahs, and other "politicians" who are in the wrong spot, doing the wrong thing, for the wrong reasons, in the service of the wrong master.

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Taken from: http://www.hccentral.com/eller1/prophet.html

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

The possibility that Darius the Mede is to be identified with Cyrus the Persian king.



D. J. Wiseman, “Some Historical Problems in the Book of Daniel,”

D. J. Wiseman, ed.,

Notes on Some
Problems in the Book of Daniel
l. London: The Tyndale Press, 1965. pp. 9-18.


Some Historical Problems in the Book of Daniel
D. J. Wiseman

A. DARIUS THE MEDE
....


3. The ‘Cyrus’ Theory.
In 1957 I put forward as a working hypothesis the possibility that Darius the Mede is to be identified with Cyrus the Persian king.
19 It may be helpful to review this theory in the light of criticism made of it by Dr. Whitcomb.
20 The basis of the hypothesis is that Daniel 6:28 can be translated ‘Daniel prospered in the reign of Darius, even (namely, or i.e.) the reign of Cyrus the Persian.’ Such a use of the appositional or explicative Hebrew wa„w construction has long been recognized in Chronicles 5:26 (‘So the God of Israel stirred up the spirit of Pul king of Assyria even the spirit of Tiglath-pileser king of Assyria’) and elsewhere.
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Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Edna in the Book of Tobit



Edna: Apocrypha


In the Book of Tobit, Edna is Raguel’s wife, Sarah’s mother, and the mother-in-law of Tobias, Tobit’s son. Edna has no biblical namesake; unlike the other women named in Tobit (Anna, Deborah, Eve, Sarah), her name does not evoke images from the Hebrew Bible. Perhaps the author of Tobit means to recall Eden’s idyllic existence, or, more likely, to convey by the name something about the type of woman, wife, and mother Edna is.
What makes Edna a “delight” may be her deportment within her family. One cannot help comparing Edna with Anna, the other matriarch in Tobit. Both women are devoted mothers and good wives, but unlike Anna, Edna never appears outside the home or argues with her husband. She does what her husband asks (Tob 7:13, 15; 8:12, 19) and seems to be always in accord with him. Raguel, in turn, treats her as his partner, not his servant (Tob 8:21). On her daughter’s wedding night, Edna encourages Sarah (Tob 7:16), who has reason to be apprehensive (Tob 3:8). She welcomes Tobias, whom she has just met, into her family as a son (Tob 10:12). The author may want readers to see Edna as the ideal wife and mother and chooses her name as a hint to that effect.
Edna operates only within the home and almost exclusively in conjunction with her husband. Although the text mentions Raguel twice (Tob 3:7; 6:11) before Tobias and his companion arrive in Ecbatana, the reader first encounters Edna only when the guests come to her house (Tob 7:2). Whenever Edna appears in the story, she is usually either in the company of Raguel (Tob 7:8; 8:21; 14:13) or Sarah (Tob 7:16), or doing something Raguel has told her to do (Tob 7:13, 15; 8:12, 19).
However, there are unexpected, if small, challenges to the patriarchal view that Edna’s subordination to her husband upholds. Edna, not Raguel, interviews their guests, even though Raguel is present (Tob 7:2–8). According to one manuscript tradition, she may also have actively participated in the signing of her daughter’s marriage contract; the Greek says, “they set their seals to it” (Tob 7:13; emphasis added). This would give Edna a larger part in the proceedings than does the other manuscript tradition, in which she merely fetches the scroll for her husband. Finally, she blesses Tobias at the newlyweds’ departure, performing a function rarely associated with biblical women (Tob 10:12).
If the meaning of Edna’s name indeed reflects her character, then her charm stems from both the way she fits her patriarchally defined role and the way she gently nudges its limitations. Matriarch of a harmonious household, she is an agreeable but not silent partner for her husband, a loving and supportive mother, a warm mother-in-law and a gracious host—all delightful aspects.

Bibliography

Bow, Beverly, and George W. E. Nickelsburg, “Patriarchy with a Twist: Men and Women in Tobit.” In “Women Like This”: New Perspectives on Jewish Women in the Greco-Roman World, edited by Amy-Jill Levine, 127–143. Atlanta: 1991.
Meyers, Carol, General Editor. Women in Scripture. New York: 2000.

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Taken from: http://jwa.org/encyclopedia/article/edna-apocrypha

Monday, September 16, 2013

Further Greek Borrowing From Book Of Tobit



Taken from: http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=12-02-036-f

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.... some readers have found in Tobit similarities to still other pagan themes, such as the legend of Admetus.18 More convincing, I  believe,   however, are points of contact with classical Greek theater. Martin  Luther observed   similarities between Tobit and Greek comedy,19 but  one is even more   impressed by resemblances that the Book of Tobit bears to a  work of Greek tragedy—the Antigone of Sophocles. In both stories the  moral stature of the heroes  is chiefly exemplified in their bravely burying  the dead in the face of official prohibition and at the risk of official  punishment. In both cases a venerable   moral tradition is maintained against a  political tyranny destructive of piety.   That same Greek drama, moreover,  provides a further parallel to the blindness   of Tobit in the character of  blind Teiresias, himself also a man of an inner   moral vision important to the  theme of the play.
 
Bearing just as obvious a connection with non-biblical literature, I  believe,   is the demon Asmodeus (Tobit 3:8), who is doubtless to be identified,  on purely   morphological grounds, with Aeshma Daeva, a figure well known in  ancient Iranian   religion.20 Moreover, Tobit’s nephew Ahikar (1:22) is  certainly   identical with a literary character of the same name, time, place,  and circumstances, found in the Elephantine papyri from the late fifth century  B.C.21   In short, whatever may be the case relative to questions of  historical dependency, Tobit’s cultural contacts with the ancient world of  religion, philosophy,   and literature are numerous and varied.
 
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Saint Jerome Had Noted The Resemblance Of Tobit To Homer's Odyssey



See our:
 
Was Homer’s “Odyssey” Based on the Hebrew Books of
Job and Tobit?
 
 
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The Wide World of Tobit

The Apocrypha’s Tobit and Literary Tradition
 

by Patrick Henry Reardon

Tobit is a short book. Indeed, Jerome tells us that translating it into  Latin   cost him only “the labor of one day.”1 It should be remarked,    however, that this small book belongs in a big world, with a rich and very wide   cultural setting.
I like to think of the Book of Tobit as a kind of universal essay, in the    sense that its author makes considerable effort to place his brief, rather  simple   narrative within a literary, historical, and moral universe of  surprising breadth   and diversity, extending through the Fertile Crescent and  out both sides. To   find comparable dimensions of such large cultural exposure  among biblical authors,   one would have to go to Ezekiel, Luke, or the narrator  of Job.
It is the intention of the present article to indicate and outline several    aspects of the Book of Tobit that join the work to other streams of literary    history. These aspects, which include a fairly wide range of themes, images,    and historical references, will serve to link Tobit to three bodies of  literature   in particular: the Bible; the larger world of Near and Middle  Eastern religious   philosophy, history, and literature; and the tradition of  Christian exegesis   down through the Latin Middle Ages.
 
Tobit and the Bible
The world of Tobit is, first of all, the world of biblical literature and    history. Not only does the book provide an elaborate description of the  religious   deterioration of the Northern Kingdom in the eighth century, and  then the deportation   and consequent social conditions2 of those  tribes after 722, but it   explicitly quotes a prophet of that century, Amos,  and makes reference (14:4)   to the preaching of Jonah at Nineveh.3 Tobit thus presupposes the history   narrated in Kings, Chronicles, and the  eighth-century prophets.
Tobit’s explicit reference to Jonah is of considerable interest in the    light of certain affinities between the two books. First and second, both  stories   take place about the same time (the eighth century) and both in  Mesopotamia.   Third, both accounts involve a journey. Fourth, the distressed  Tobit, like Jonah,   prays to die. Fifth and most strikingly, his son Tobias  encounters a fish that   attempts—with less success than Jonah’s fish—to swallow  him!   Finally, in each book the fish serves as a special instrument of Divine  Providence.
Besides Jonah, Tobit shows several remarkable affinities to the Book of Job,   some of which were noted rather early in Christian exegesis. For example, the   title characters of both works shared a zeal for purity of life, almsgiving,    and other deeds of charity (Job 1 and 31; Tobit 1–2), patient endurance   of  trials sent by God,4 a deep weariness of life itself (Job 7:15;   Tobit  3:6), a final vindication by the Lord at the end of each book, and perhaps    even a common hope of the resurrection.5 As early as Cyprian in the    third century, it was also noted that both men were similarly mocked by wives    unable to appreciate their virtue and faith in God.6
Moreover, the book’s description of long-suffering Sarah, whose seven    husbands all died on their wedding night, carries on another major theme of    Holy Scripture: the barren woman, of which the elder Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel,    Hannah, and Elizabeth are better known examples. Indeed, the mockery that the    younger Sarah receives from her maids in this regard readily puts one in mind    of Hagar’s attitude toward the older Sarah, as well as Peninnah’s   unkind  treatment of Hannah at the beginning of First Samuel.7
The moral teaching of Tobit is also of a piece with the covenantal ethics    of the Bible generally. For example, its prohibition against marrying outsiders   in 4:12f. reflects the strict view of Ezra and Nehemiah (and, down the road,    1 Corinthians 7).8 Then, in the very next verse is found the mandate    about prompt payment of the laborer’s salary, which is clearly based on    Leviticus 19:13 and Deuteronomy 24:14f. And so forth. The moral teaching of    Tobit shows endless parallels with both the Torah and Israel’s Wisdom    tradition, and its solicitude for social justice and service is at one with    the teaching of the eighth-century prophets. No matter what is to be said  relative   to its canonical status, the setting, imagery, and moral doctrine of  Tobit is   of a piece with the rest of our biblical literature.
 
The Larger World
Even when the Book of Tobit most closely touches the other biblical  literature,   however, it sometimes does so along lines reminiscent of, and  running parallel   to, more extensive traditions outside the Bible.
An obvious and rather large example is the “Golden Rule” in Tobit   4:15,  “Do not do to anyone what you yourself hate.” Not only does   this prohibition  substantially contain the biblical command to love one’s   neighbor as oneself;9 not only, furthermore, does it stand   in canonical  continuity with the more positive formulation of the same Golden   Rule  preserved in the Gospels;10 it is also the equivalent to an ideal    found in other ethical philosophies. These latter include Greek authors like    Herodotus and Isocrates11 and even classical Confucianism.12   This use of the Golden Rule thus assured Tobit a featured place in the entire    history of religion and moral philosophy.13
A similar assessment is true, I believe, concerning the way that Tobit  develops   the religious symbolism of the journey. Obviously that motif had long  been part   of the Bible, particularly in those sections associated with the  Exodus wandering   and the return from Babylon,14 but it was a topic  not limited to the   Bible. Back near the beginning of the second millennium  B.C., the Mesopotamian    Gilgamesh Epic had inchoatively explored the  religious symbolism of   the journey, and that exploration would continue down  through some of our greatest   literature: the Odyssey, of course,  diverse accounts of Jason and the   Argonauts, the Aeneid, etc., and  eventually the Divine Comedy,   itself inspired by all of them. In a  more secular form the journey imagery continued   with such works as the  Endymion of Keats,15 even after it   had been assumed within  the ascetical literature of the Church as xeneteia,   conceived as both  exile and pilgrimage. A classical example of the latter use   is found in Step 3  of The Ladder of Divine Ascent by St. John of Mount   Sinai.
The resemblance of Tobit to the Odyssey in particular was not lost   on that great student of literature, Jerome, as is evident in a single detail    of his Latin translation of Tobit in the Vulgate. Intrigued by the literary    merit of Tobit, but rejecting its canonicity, the jocose and sometimes prankish    Jerome felt free to insert into his version an item straight out of the  Odyssey—namely,   the wagging of the dog’s tail on arriving home with Tobias in  11:9—Tunc   praecucurrit canis, qui simul fuerat in via, et quasi nuntius  adveniens blandimento   suae caudae gaudebat—“Then the dog, which had been  with them   in the way, ran before, and coming as if it had brought the news,  showed his   joy by his fawning and wagging his tail.”16 No other  ancient   version of Tobit mentions either the tail or the wagging, but Jerome,  ever the   classicist, was confident his readers would remember the faithful but  feeble   old hound Argus, as the final act of his life, greeting the return of  Odysseus   to the home of his father: “he endeavored to wag his tail”  (Odyssey   17.302). And to think that we owe this delightful gem to  Jerome’s rejection   of Tobit’s canonicity!
Thus, when young Tobias made his trip to Ecbatana and then, like Odysseus,    journeyed back to the home of his father, he traveled with a vast company of    classical pilgrims. He was neither the first nor the last to decide: “I   will  arise and return to my father.” On that trip, moreover, Tobias enjoyed   the  fellowship of an angel and a dog, symbolically representing the two worlds   of  spirits and beasts, both associated with Paradise and both mysteriously joined    together in the human being that they accompany.17
Furthermore, some readers have found in Tobit similarities to still other    pagan themes, such as the legend of Admetus.18 More convincing, I  believe,   however, are points of contact with classical Greek theater. Martin  Luther observed   similarities between Tobit and Greek comedy,19 but  one is even more   impressed by resemblances that the Book of Tobit bears to a  work of Greek tragedy—the    Antigone of Sophocles. In both stories the  moral stature of the heroes   is chiefly exemplified in their bravely burying  the dead in the face of official   prohibition and at the risk of official  punishment. In both cases a venerable   moral tradition is maintained against a  political tyranny destructive of piety.   That same Greek drama, moreover,  provides a further parallel to the blindness   of Tobit in the character of  blind Teiresias, himself also a man of an inner   moral vision important to the  theme of the play.
Bearing just as obvious a connection with non-biblical literature, I  believe,   is the demon Asmodeus (Tobit 3:8), who is doubtless to be identified,  on purely   morphological grounds, with Aeshma Daeva, a figure well known in  ancient Iranian   religion.20 Moreover, Tobit’s nephew Ahikar (1:22) is  certainly   identical with a literary character of the same name, time, place,  and circumstances,   found in the Elephantine papyri from the late fifth century  B.C.21   In short, whatever may be the case relative to questions of  historical dependency,   Tobit’s cultural contacts with the ancient world of  religion, philosophy,   and literature are numerous and varied.
 
The History of Exegesis
And this consideration brings me to what I suggest is a major question of    the Book of Tobit: How does a loyal servant of God live in this very big and    complex world? How does one spiritually survive, and even thrive, in   this world, without being of this world? The preoccupation of Tobit    is, I submit, moral and ascetical. It is a book about how the loyal servant   of  God must live.
In this respect, it is instructive to observe that early Christian exegesis   of the Book of Tobit was of a predominantly moral and ascetical interest. With   very few exceptions, patristic interpretation of Tobit was straightforward and   literal, with relatively little, and hardly any sustained, appeal to hidden    symbolisms. The longest extant patristic work devoted to Tobit, that of Ambrose   of Milan, exemplifies this approach convincingly. After drawing attention to    the major moral features of Tobit’s character, Ambrose devotes the rest   of his  discourse to a robust condemnation of avarice and usury.22 That   is to  say, Ambrose went to Tobit almost exclusively for moral teaching.
To be sure, a modest measure of patristic exegesis of Tobit was allegorical,   in the sense of finding hidden references to the mysteries of the Christian    faith. For example, attention was sometimes drawn to Tobias’s fish, whose    various body parts were used to remedy the problems of the family. Given the    common and widespread Christological symbolism of the fish (ichthys)    among believers, it was virtually inevitable that Tobias’s fish, too,   who  quite literally gave his life for the family, should be regarded as a  foreshadowing   of the Savior. This symbolism is found in the fourth century,  first in the mural   iconography of the Roman catacombs23 and then in a  few literary references.24
Similarly, Isidore of Seville believed that young Tobias, inasmuch as he  healed   his parent’s blindness, “had an image of Christ.”25   Nonetheless, such recourse to allegorical symbolism to interpret the Book of    Tobit was relatively rare among earlier Christian writers.
This assessment, however, does not hold true for the Latin writers of the    Middle Ages. The highly detailed commentary of Venerable Bede26 is    the example that comes first to mind. To leave Ambrose’s fairly sober,    subdued, and straightforward remarks on Tobit and then turn to Bede’s    elaborate interpretation of the same book is something on the order of moving    to another planet. In Bede’s commentary, not even the most minute item   in the  Tobit narrative is without its hidden doctrinal significance, to be ferreted    out by a rich imagination.
Bede’s approach was followed by other medieval exegetes who turned their    very creative fancies loose on the book: Walafrid Strabo, Hugh of St. Victor,    and Isaac of Stella.27 At their hands, the Book of Tobit became a rich   mother-lode of hidden Christology, soteriology, ecclesiology, sacramentology,    and so forth.
These medieval interpreters certainly present us with a whole new  hermeneutic   world. One may legitimately question, however, whether it is any  longer the   world of Tobit. Indeed, in these medieval works the overwhelmingly  moral interest   of Tobit’s universe is hardly touched at all, so that the major  preoccupation   of the book—how does the servant of God live in this  world?—becomes   almost entirely lost. This is my chief objection to the  approach taken to the   Book of Tobit among medieval Latin exegetes.
Since his Glossa Ordinaria became a link between Bede and later  medieval   writers, Walafrid Strabo may be particularly cited by way of  illustration. Strabo   begins his interpretation of Tobit by observing,  correctly enough, that the   book “abounds in the greatest examples and  exhortations of the moral life,”28   but then he goes on to explain the  book in great detail without a single scrap   of moral or ascetical teaching.  Tobit’s principal message and concern   thus become hopelessly dispersed in  considerations alien to the book.
It is my persuasion that the message of Tobit should begin with a proper  analysis   of its moral message exactly as it appears at the literary level,  without recourse   to hidden symbolisms that its author himself could scarcely  have suspected and   that float, in fact, without sufficient grounding in  ancient patristic and liturgical   texts.
This is not to say that Tobit should be interpreted apart from the biblical   canon (whatever one holds about its canonical status) or from the context of    Christian theology. Indeed, I maintain the very opposite thesis—namely,   that  Tobit (and, for that matter, all other biblical literature handed down   in the  Tradition of the Church) should be read and understood within that double    interpretive context of Canon and Christology. I believe, nonetheless, that    this approach is best made on the basis of Tobit’s literal meaning, the    meaning it has as moral literature, not fanciful symbolisms unsustained in  either   biblical, patristic, or liturgical testimonies.
Having now placed Tobit within literary history, I propose, in a subsequent   article to be published in these pages, to explore further the book’s   great  moral message and its importance in the Christian life.

Notes:

1. Jerome, Praefatio in Librum Tobiae (PL 29.26A). Among Latin  writers    Jerome stands very much alone, and even eccentric, in his denial of  canonicity   to the Book of Tobit. It was cited somewhat less often by the Greek  Fathers   than by the Latins, however, the question of its canonicity being more  complex   and protracted in the East. This questioned canonicity of Tobit also  accounts   for the unparalleled freedom that copyists took in the transmission  of the text.   We have received Tobit in two major manuscript traditions so  disparate that   Rahlfs’s standard edition of the Septuagint prints them  separately. Because   I will frequently refer to them, I take this occasion to  identify the two earliest   extant manuscripts, both of them from early  fourth-century Egypt: the Codex   Vaticanus (hereafter B) and the Codex  Sinaiticus (hereafter S). Because of its   importance to Latin writers, I will  also refer often to Tobit’s Vulgate   text, translated by Jerome from both Greek  and Aramaic sources.
2. Origen early recognized Tobit’s value as a source of historical and    sociological information on the period; cf. Epistola ad Africanum 12     (Bibliotheke Hellenon Pateron [hereafter BHP, followed by volume and    page numbers] 16.359f.).
3. Thus in B and Vulgate; also see Jerome, In Jonam (PL 25.1119A).   S here says Nahum.
4. Job and Tobit were thus compared by Augustine, De Divinis  Scripturis   28 (Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum [hereafter CSEL with   volume and page numbers] 12.436); Ambrosiaster,  Quaestiones Veteris et Novi   Testamenti 99.2 (CSEL 50.191); in the  Latin Middle Ages, Bernard of Clairvaux,    Sententiae 2.25  (Opera, Vol. 6/2, Rome: Editiones Cistercienses,   1972, p. 31); and  still later, John of the Cross, Llama de Amor Viva   2.28 (Obras  Completas, Madrid: BAC, 1991, pp. 960f.).
5. Job 19:23–27; Tobit 2:18 in the Vulgate. Paulinus of Nola commented    that Tobit’s burial of the dead manifested “a holy and sanctified   hope”;  Epistolae 13.4 (PL 61.209–210).
6. Cyprian, De Mortalitate 10 (PL 4.588); among the Greeks,  Asterios   Sophistes, In Psalmos 4.4 (BHP 37.170); among medieval  Latins, Peter   Comestor, Historia Libri Tobiae 1 (PL 198.1433C); and  Peter Damien,    Sermones 4.5 (Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio  Medievalis   [hereafter CCM with volume and page numbers] 57.20).
7. This resemblance was likewise remarked by Cyprian, Testimoniorum   Libri 1.20 (PL 4.688–689).
8. Again, cf. Cyprian, Testimoniorum Libri 3.62 (PL 4.767–768).
9. Leviticus 19:18; Matthew 5:43; 19:19; 22:39; Mark 12:31; Luke 6:27;  Romans   12:17–19; Galatians 5:14; James 2:8.
10. Matthew 7:12; Luke 6:31.
11. Herodotus, Histories 3.142; Isocrates, Niklokles 61.
12. Cf. Ku Hung Ming, The Conduct of Life: A Translation of the Doctrine   of the Mean, London: John Murray, 1906, p. 26.
13. Tobit’s form of the Golden Rule was maintained, not only in the    apocryphal (e.g., Ps.-Aristeas, Epistle to Philocrates 207) and  rabbinical   traditions (e.g., Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 31a;  Targum Yerushalmi   I of Leviticus 19:18), but also in Christian  sources as diverse as the    Didache 1.2 (BHP 2.215); the Coptic  Gospel of Thomas 6; the    Apostolic Constitutions 1 (BHP  2.6); Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis   2.22 (BHP 7.359); Didymus the  Blind, De Spiritu Sancto 39 (PG 39.1068);   John Chrysostom,  Homiliae de Statuis 13.3 (PG 49.140); Augustine, Sermones   in  Vetus Testamentum 9.14f. (Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina   [hereafter CCL with volume and page numbers] 41.135f.); Gregory the Great,  Moralia   in Job 6.35.54 (CCL 143.323); 10.6.6 (539); and, from the  Latin Middle   Ages, Peter Damien, Sermones 14.9 (CCM 57.69); Stephen  of Grandmont,    Regula 28 (CCM 8.83); and Isaac of Stella,  Sermones 3.3 (PL   194.1698A); 31.6 (1791B). Among later ascetical  writers in the East, there is   Paisy Velichkovsky, Field Flowers 23  (Little Russian Philokalia,   Vol. 4, The Brotherhood of St. Herman of  Alaska, 1994, p. 87.). Sometimes Christians   have spontaneously juxtaposed  Tobit’s negative form with the positive   form from the Gospels; e.g.,  Barsanuphius and John of Gaza, Letters   687 (Correspondance, Solesmes, 1971, p. 442); and the anonymous eleventh-century   Mont-Saint-Michel  manuscript, Expositio ad Galatas 5.14 (CCM 151.202).
14. In the New Testament, the journey motif will play a structural role, not   only in Luke-Acts, but also in Mark 8–10.
15. Cf. Andrès Rodríguez, The Book of the Heart: The Poetics,   Letters,  and Life of John Keats, Hudson, N.Y.: Lindisfarne Press, 1993,   pp.  44ff.
16. Douay-Challoner translation of the Vulgate.
17. Angels and beasts are also the companions of Jesus in the desert; see    Mark 1:13 along with the comment of Euthymius Zigabenus, In Marcum   (PG 129.776C). Particularly in our hagiography, this motif of angelic and animal   companionship is ubiquitous. Cf. Joanne Stephanatos, Animals and Man: A    State of Blessedness, Minneapolis: Light and Life, 1992.
18. I confess that this one is lost on me, having gone over my Apollodorus    (3.9.15) repeatedly without discerning any really convincing similarity to  Tobit.
19. Indeed, he even speculated that the Greeks borrowed from the Jews in  this   respect; cf. Luther’s Works, Volume 35 (Philadelphia: Fortress    Press, 1976), p. 345.
20. Cf. Jeffrey Burton Russell, The Devil: Perceptions of Evil from  Antiquity   to Primitive Christianity, Ithaca: Cornell University Press,  1977, pp.   215, 217.
21. A translation of “The Words of Ahiqar” is found in J. B. Pritchard,     Ancient Near Eastern Texts Relating to the Old Testament, Princeton,    1969, pp. 427–430. The story itself appears to go back to Mesopotamia   at least  a century earlier. I hazard passing remarks here on two curious features:   (1)  this text is narrated, like the opening chapters of Tobit, in the first    person; (2) the plan to kill a eunuch slave in place of Ahikar, so that the    latter could later be restored to favor (p. 428, left column), most certainly     does bear comparison to the Admetus legend.
22. Ambrose, De Tobia (PL 14.759–794). Not one paragraph in   ten  of this work is allegorical. See also Ambrose’s simple remarks on   Tobit in  Epistolae 19.5 (PL 16.984A), later echoed by Salvian of Marseilles,     Adversus Avaritiam 2.4 (PL 53.193B).
23. Cf. Henri Leclercq, “Tobie,” Dictionnaire d’Archéologie   Chrétienne  et de Liturgie, Vol. 15, Paris: Letouzey, 1953, cols.   2418–2420.
24. Optatus of Mileve in Numedia, De Schismate Donatistarum 3.2 (PL   11.991); and the anonymous De Promissionibus et Praedictionibus Dei   2.39 (PL 51.816).
25. “Christi imaginem habuit”—Allegoriae Quaedam Scripturae    Sacrae 123 (PL 83.116A).
26. Venerable Bede, Interpretatio in Librum Tobiae (PL 91.923–938).   Cf. the analysis of Bede’s exegesis of Tobit by Johann Gamberoni, Die    Auslegung des Buches Tobias, Munich: Kösel, 1969, pp. 107–123.
27. Walafrid Strabo, Glossa Ordinaria (PL 113.725–732); Hugh   of  St. Victor, Allegoriae in Vetus Testamentum 9.2 (PL 175.737–744);    Isaac of Stella, Sermones 7.11–14 (PL 194.1715). I cite only   those  writers that I know first-hand. For other examples, see Gamberoni, op.    cit., pp. 124–146.
28. Strabo, op. cit. (PL 113.725B).

The substance of this article appeared in Epiphany in  1996.

Read more:  http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=12-02-036-f#ixzz2f1euwlrb

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

A New Elijah A New Jeremiah




Taken from: www.splendorofthetruth.org/.../Advent_C_2_-_Baptist.338114608.doc


2ndSunday of Advent, Year C

The New Jeremiah

The greatest danger to Christians today is a type of familiarity with our faith that breeds contempt. We know about the miracles that God worked in the past, we know about the prophecies of Christ fulfilled in Scripture, and we know about the workings of the Holy Spirit in us and in the Church today.But sometimes we say “so what?” We grow bored with the drama of salvation history, and we do not see how God affects our lives. Boredom and contempt have led Christians to give up their faith and embrace strange new religions that keep them entertained with lies.
If we would only read what the Scriptures really say! If we would only study what has really happened in history! We would see the ingenious and awe-inspiring plan of God carried out to the smallest detail in the life of every human being on the planet, including each of us. We would be ecstatic with His plan to transform us into living reflections of his glory and power like the very angels in heaven by sanctifying us with his own Holy Spirit through our sacramental life in the Church.
And we would appreciate the earth-shattering appearance of St. John the Baptist today. What began almost 900 years earlier with Elijah finishes with John, who is the last and greatest of the prophets. Elijah appeared suddenly from nowhere, wearing rough clothing and rebuking King Ahab and his wicked wife Jezebel. John the Baptist also appears suddenly in the desert, wearing rough clothing and rebuking King Herod and his wicked wife Herodias.
But if we look deeper into God’s plan, we will be even more amazed by the similarities between St. John the Baptist and another prophet.Over 600 years before John lived Jeremiah. Jeremiah was a priest of the old covenant, born of a priestly family, though it seems he never served in the Temple.John was also a priest, born of his priestly father Zechariah, though he too never served in the Temple. At the start of the Book of the prophet Jeremiah, God tells him “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I sanctified you and made you a prophet to the nations” (Jeremiah 1:5).J ohn was sanctified by Christ in the womb before he was born, which caused him to leap for joy in his mother Elizabeth’s womb, and he became Christ’s own prophet to prepare the way. Both Jeremiah and John never married because of the difficult days ahead, and indeed, both of them were imprisoned by wicked kings and executed by their own people: John by beheading, and Jeremiah by being stoned to death. John is not only a new Elijah come to convert Israel; he is a new Jeremiah.
And if we look deeper still, we see that John shares more than outward characteristics with Jeremiah. John also completes the final work of Jeremiah. Jeremiah lived at the end of a kingdom. In his last days, Babylon was threatening to destroy the Kingdom of Judah and everything holy to the Chosen people. So Jeremiah commanded the people to hide three sacred items to preserve their bond with God before they fled into Egypt. He commanded them to take the holy fire from the altar in the Temple and to keep it burning secretly, to keep the Law of God hidden within their hearts by refusing to worship idols, and to hide the Arc of the Covenant, the seat of God’s living presence among them (see 2 Maccabees 2:1-7).
600 years later, St. John the Baptist is living at the beginning of a Kingdom—the Kingdom of God which he is heralding. The time has come to reveal those three sacred items hidden by Jeremiah—to complete his work—so that God can recreate a holy people. The holy fire from the altar consumed all offerings, giving them forever to God. John reveals to the people that the Christ will baptize them with the Holy Spirit and fire.The Holy Spirit will consume the faithful, body and soul, like offerings, giving them forever to God through baptism.
The Law of God taught the people how they ought to live. By his teaching, John reveals to the crowds how they ought to live, and prepares them for the Lawgiver himself, Jesus Christ. Finally, the Arc of the Covenant was literally a seat or throne for God in the Temple. The Holy of Holies was the room that held the Arc, which was God’s living presence among the Chosen people. John reveals to the people the real, living presence of God among them as one of them: the true man and true God, Jesus Christ himself.
Is this all blind coincidence? Of course not! This is God’s plan from the beginning! St. John the Baptist, the last and greatest of the prophets, the new Elijah, the new Jeremiah, is completing Jeremiah’s final work so the Kingdom of God can begin.
As Advent continues, we will hear about miracles and prophesies. We will hear about the ingenious and awe-inspiring plan of God which involves each one of us here. Let the Scriptures inspire you! Let human history inspire you! See God’s plan with fresh eyes, and be filled with joy that he has chosen to transform you into a reflection of His own glory—into a son or daughter of God!

Rev. Eric Culler