Today’s readings reveal a quiet but powerful truth: faith does not begin with our search for God, but with God’s search for us. He always takes the first step. He draws us—often gently, patiently—even before we recognize it.
In the first reading, we encounter the Ethiopian eunuch, a man of influence and learning, yet still searching. He is reading Isaiah but cannot grasp its meaning. When Philip asks, “Do you understand what you are reading?” his response is deeply humble: “How can I, unless someone guides me?”
In a culture that prizes independence, this openness is striking. It is precisely this humility that allows grace to enter. Philip climbs into his chariot—but more importantly, Christ enters his life.
Jesus confirms this in the Gospel: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him.” Faith begins not with human effort, but with divine initiative. God is always drawing us closer. Yet here lies the challenge: God may be drawing us, and we may not notice.
We live in a distracted world—constantly connected, yet rarely attentive. Screens fill our vision, noise fills our ears, and our minds are always elsewhere. It is possible to miss even someone calling our name. Not because they are absent, but because we are not paying attention.
The same can happen spiritually. God is present. God is speaking. But we are distracted.
As Simone Weil said, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” In a distracted world, even God can be overlooked—not because He is absent, but because we are not attentive.
The Ethiopian eunuch teaches us another way. He is attentive, searching, willing to pause, to listen, to ask for help. Because of this, he recognizes Christ.
God often works like a parent teaching a child to ride a bicycle—running alongside, holding steady, guiding quietly. The child may feel independent, but it is the unseen hand that keeps everything balanced. So too, God is sustaining us, guiding us, often unnoticed.
For families, this becomes a mission: to create spaces of attention—moments of listening, prayer, and presence—where God is not crowded out. And at the center stands Jesus: “I am the living bread.” The One who draws us also feeds us. In the Eucharist, He gives Himself as our strength.
Today, let us ask: Where is God drawing me? And am I attentive enough to notice? If we respond with openness, we too will go forth rejoicing.