That’s the space Tobiyyah and Sarah find themselves in in the Book of Tobit.
Imagine this: you’re newly married, but your spouse has a bit of a history. A history of… seven dead husbands. Yikes. That's what Sarah's dealing with. Each previous groom died mysteriously on their wedding night, killed by the demon Asmodeus. Not exactly the honeymoon you dream of. Chapter 8 of the Book of Tobit jumps right into the heart of their fear and hope. After a harrowing evening – you can only imagine the tension in that room! – Tobiyyah gets out of bed. Think about the courage that took. He turns to Sarah, calling her “My sister,” a term of endearment, and says, “Arise, and let us present our supplication before God.”
It's not a moment for hiding under the covers. It's a moment for prayer. For reaching out to the Divine.
Tobiyyah doesn’t just mumble a quick blessing. He pours out his heart. “O Lord God of Israel, thou art Lord alone in heaven and on earth.” He acknowledges God's absolute power, God's unique role. He reminds God – and perhaps himself – of the creation story: “And thou didst create Adam, and gavest him Eve his wife for a helper like unto him.” He’s grounding his plea in the very foundation of human connection, the divinely ordained partnership between man and woman.
Then comes the really vulnerable part. Tobiyyah says, “Now therefore, O Lord, it is manifest and known to thee that I take not this my sister for lust, but in uprightness of heart, according to the law of Moses and Israel.” He’s making it clear: his intentions are pure. This isn’t about fleeting desire; it's about building a life together, a life rooted in Jewish law and tradition. He’s asking for divine blessing, not just for physical safety, but for a marriage blessed with meaning.
He ends his prayer with a powerful plea: “And thou, O Lord, have mercy upon us, and have compassion on us, and join us together in peace, and give us sons who may be a blessing, occupying themselves in thy law.” He wants children who will continue the tradition, who will live lives dedicated to Torah. He’s asking for a future, a legacy.
And then, in a moment of simple, profound unity, Sarah answers, “Amen.”
One word. A word of agreement, of faith, of shared hope. It’s a small word, but it speaks volumes. It’s a declaration that she, too, is placing her trust in God. That she, too, desires a future filled with peace and blessing.
What's so moving about this scene is its raw humanity. It's not just a story about demons and miracles. It’s a story about two people facing unimaginable fear, finding strength in each other and in their faith. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, prayer, sincerity, and a commitment to something larger than ourselves can offer a glimmer of hope. And sometimes, that's all we need to keep going.