The air in the room is heavy with finality and peace. A man, ancient and full of years, lies on his bed; his sight long returned but his body now failing. He has lived 112 years, seen blindness and restoration, wealth and poverty. He is surrounded by his family: his son Tobias and his seven grandsons. This is not a moment of despair but one of urgent instruction. The old man, Tobit, gathers his remaining strength. His words are not just for the room; they are for generations. He speaks of the end of his own life, "my life is departing," and the end of the great city outside their walls. He has "lived in wealth and gave to the poor" and "continued to praise God," and now, his final act is one of provision, shaping the future for those he loves by grounding them in the past and pointing them toward a divine future.
Reflections
The vision of God presented here is one of profound reliability. He is a God who speaks through prophets, and "not a single detail of what they have spoken will fail to happen." This divine character is not capricious; it is rooted in justice and tied to the long arc of history. He sees the "iniquity and deception" of Nineveh and holds it accountable, just as He "paid back the dishonorable thing" Nadab did. Yet, this justice is matched by a persistent mercy. God foresees scattering and destruction, the temple "destroyed by fire," but this is not the end. "God will have mercy on them again," promising return, restoration, and an eventual, glorious rebuilding where "all the nations of the whole earth will turn and genuinely revere God." He is, therefore, both the Judge of nations and the Redeemer of His people.
We often find ourselves living within systems and places marked by "a lot of iniquity and deception," places where the inhabitants "have no sense of shame." Tobit's instruction to "get out of Nineveh" is both literal and deeply metaphorical. It speaks to the human struggle of navigating a corrupt world. The text suggests that proximity to systemic injustice is dangerous. The contrast between Ahikar and Nadab provides a stark illustration of human choice: "see what giving to the poor does and what injustice does. It kills!" The human experience, then, is a constant tension between participating in the world's injustice and actively choosing the path of righteousness, even when that path requires radical change, like leaving home.
The passage calls for an integrated life, one where belief is not separate from action. The primary charge is to "serve God with sincerity, and do what pleases him." This sincerity is immediately defined by two practical, generational responsibilities. First, "teach your children to do what is just and to give to the poor." Legacy is not about wealth; it is about embedding character and compassion in the next generation. Second, the repeated emphasis on "giving to the poor" frames charity not as an optional addition but as the very mechanism of justice and deliverance. It is the tangible evidence of a heart that is "genuinely mindful of God." This integration means our daily choices, our parenting, and our finances must all be aligned with a sincere desire to please God.