Catholic Commentary
Arrival at Raguel's House and Joyful Recognition
1They came to Ecbatana, and arrived at the house of Raguel. But Sarah met them; and she greeted them, and they her. Then she brought them into the house.2Raguel said to Edna his wife, “This young man really resembles Tobit my cousin!”3And Raguel asked them, “Where are you two from, kindred?” They said to him, “We are of the sons of Naphtali, who are captives in Nineveh.”4He said to them, “Do you know Tobit our brother?” They said, “We know him.” Then he said to them, “Is he in good health?”5They said, “He is both alive, and in good health.” Tobias said, “He is my father.”6And Raguel sprang up, and kissed him, wept,7blessed him, and said to him, “You are the son of an honest and good man.” When he had heard that Tobit had lost his sight, he was grieved, and wept;8and Edna his wife and Sarah his daughter wept. They received them gladly; and they killed a ram of the flock, and served them meat. But Tobias said to Raphael, “Brother Azarias, speak of those things of which you talked about in the way, and let the matter be finished.”
Tobit 7:1–8 depicts Tobias and the angel Raphael arriving at the house of Raguel, where Sarah greets them warmly and Raguel recognizes Tobias as his kinsman through physical resemblance. Upon learning Tobit's identity and condition, Raguel embraces Tobias with tears of joy and grief, and the household receives them with lavish hospitality, slaughtering a ram in their honor.
A stranger arrives and is recognized not by announcement but by physical likeness—and that simple recognition unlocks a cascade of tears, blessing, and covenant welcome that changes everything.
Commentary
Tobit 7:1 — Arrival and Reception by Sarah The narrative places Sarah at the threshold as the one who first greets the travelers. This is not incidental: in the book's larger arc, Sarah is the woman whom Tobias is providentially destined to marry. Her coming forth to welcome strangers she does not yet know as her future husband and his angelic guide is rich with dramatic irony. The verb translated "greeted" (the Greek ēspasato) denotes the warm, physical greeting of the ancient Near East — an embrace, a kiss of peace — suggesting that hospitality is already operative before any identity is established. The house of Raguel is immediately a place of welcome.
Tobit 7:2 — Raguel's Observation of Resemblance Raguel's remark to his wife Edna, "This young man really resembles Tobit my cousin!", is the hinge on which the whole scene turns. Physical likeness in the ancient world was not merely biological curiosity; it was understood as a sign of genuine kinship, an outward mark of shared blood and shared covenant standing before God. Raguel speaks privately to Edna before any disclosure is made — a realistic narrative touch that also underscores how Providence works through natural human perception and conversation. The word "cousin" (anepsios) situates Tobias within the mesh of tribal and family covenant that structures the entire book's theology of marriage within the tribe of Naphtali.
Tobit 7:3–5 — The Question of Origin and Explosive Disclosure Raguel's question, "Where are you two from, kindred?" is the conventional ancient greeting, yet the word "kindred" (adelphoi, literally "brothers") is freighted here — he suspects but does not yet know. When Tobias answers simply, "He is my father," the scene accelerates dramatically. The economy of words — Raguel asks about Tobit, the travelers confirm he is alive and well, and then Tobias quietly delivers the revelation of his identity — mirrors the structure of biblical recognition scenes throughout Scripture (cf. Joseph and his brothers, Ruth and Boaz). The confirmation that Tobit is alive and "in good health" (hygiainei) is also quietly ironic: Tobit is, of course, blind and in spiritual anguish, and yet in the deepest sense he is spiritually alive and faithful.
Tobit 7:6 — Raguel's Overwhelming Emotion The triple action — "sprang up, and kissed him, wept" — is among the most emotionally vivid moments in the deuterocanonical literature. Raguel does not merely stand or offer a formal embrace; he springs (halato), the verb suggesting a leap of sudden, uncontainable joy. The kiss and the tears together form the classical biblical gesture of covenant reunion (cf. Genesis 33:4, where Esau runs, falls on Jacob's neck, kisses him, and weeps; cf. Luke 15:20, the father of the prodigal son). Joy and grief are inseparable here: joy at beholding the face of his kinsman's son, and grief, disclosed in verse 7, at the news of Tobit's blindness.
Tobit 7:7 — Blessing and Grief Interwoven Raguel's blessing — "You are the son of an honest and good man" — is a formal patriarchal benediction, publicly affirming Tobit's honor and therefore Tobias's inherited dignity. The Greek agathos kai kalos (good and noble) echoes the Hellenistic ideal of the virtuous man, but within the Deuteronomic theological framework of the book it means above all: faithful to the Law, generous to the poor, and loyal to God. The news of Tobit's blindness provokes weeping in Raguel — demonstrating that authentic covenant kinship involves genuine empathy in suffering. This sorrow is not performative; it is a participation in the affliction of a beloved brother.
Tobit 7:8 — Communal Sorrow, Communal Welcome, and Sacrificial Hospitality Edna and Sarah join in weeping — the grief rippling outward through the household — before the scene pivots to welcome: "They received them gladly; and they killed a ram of the flock." The slaughter of the ram for guests is the expression of the highest grade of Near Eastern hospitality, recalling Abraham's reception of the three visitors at Mamre (Genesis 18:7). The ram is also a sacrificial animal deeply embedded in Israelite memory (Genesis 22; Leviticus). That the household of Raguel offers this sign of covenant hospitality to strangers who are, in reality, family, ties the scene to the broader theological claim of the book: fidelity, hospitality, and providence are interlocking realities.
Catholic Commentary
Catholic tradition reads the Book of Tobit as a profound meditation on marriage, family, and divine providence, and these eight verses crystallize all three themes simultaneously.
On Providence: The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that "God's providence works also through the actions of creatures" (CCC §306). Raguel's involuntary perception of physical resemblance is precisely such an instrument — natural human observation becomes the vehicle through which God's hidden plan of covenant marriage is set in motion. St. John Chrysostom, commenting on providential meetings in Scripture, observed that God frequently uses the most ordinary human gestures and encounters to accomplish His extraordinary purposes.
On the Family as Domestic Church: The Second Vatican Council's Gaudium et Spes §52 upholds the family as the foundational school of virtue, and the household of Raguel — marked by grief shared, blessing given, hospitality lavished — is a vivid Old Testament exemplar of what Pope Francis in Amoris Laetitia §16 calls the family as a "place of tenderness." The tears of Raguel, Edna, and Sarah at another family's suffering are a model of what Catholic social teaching calls the universal destination of goods extended into affective solidarity.
On Marriage within the Covenant: The Church has long read Tobit as a primary Scriptural foundation for Sacramental Marriage. The Rite of Marriage in the Roman Rite explicitly references the story of Tobias and Sarah (now found in Tobit 8). The fact that Tobias's claim to Sarah is established through a chain of kinship recognition — resemblance, name, identity, blessing — illustrates that Catholic marriage is not a private contract but an ecclesial and covenantal event embedded in community.
On Hospitality as Sacred Duty: The Church Fathers universally read the slaughter of the ram as a figure of Eucharistic generosity. Origen (Homilies on Genesis) and later St. Ambrose (De Abraham) link the offering of the finest animal to guests with the self-offering of Christ in the Eucharist, arguing that Christian hospitality participates in the logic of sacrifice.
For Today
For contemporary Catholics, this passage issues a quietly radical challenge: to recognize Christ in the faces of those who arrive at our threshold, whether literally or metaphorically. Raguel does not know who these strangers are, yet he pours out hospitality; he weeps at another man's suffering as though it were his own. In an age of fragmented extended families, geographic dispersal, and the erosion of intergenerational bonds, the scene at Raguel's house asks: Do we know the names and sufferings of our wider family — biological, parochial, and human? The ram killed in welcome is a concrete act, not a sentiment. Pope Francis has repeatedly called Catholics away from a "culture of indifference" (Evangelii Gaudium §54); this passage puts flesh on that call. Raguel's tears at Tobit's blindness, shed for a man not present, model intercessory compassion — mourning with those who mourn (Romans 12:15) — as a daily spiritual practice available to every family gathered around a table.
Cross-References