We begin a new day of the Little Journeys of the Virgin, an Advent path that prepares us interiorly for Christmas. It is not just about remembering the journey of Mary and Joseph, but about walking with them, learning to wait, to accept detachment, and to prepare the heart for the adoration of the Child who is coming. Each day places us in a stage of this spiritual itinerary, inviting us to advance with fidelity, silence, and hope toward Bethlehem.
OPENING PRAYER
Before beginning the journey
Lord our God,
Eternal Father, origin of every fulfilled promise,
in the silence of Advent we set out on the path before You.
We know where we are going and with Whom we walk.
You have willed that Your Son not come suddenly, but slowly,
gestated in the faith of a Virgin,
guarded by the silence of a just man,
awaited step by step, day after day.
And in that humble path You have taught us
that salvation does not burst forth with clamor,
but arrives walking little by little.
Today we want to accompany Mary of Nazareth,
Immaculate Virgin and believing Mother,
in her silent march toward Bethlehem.
We want to walk with Saint Joseph, Blessed Patriarch,
faithful man who sustains without possessing the mystery that saves the world.
And we want to prepare the heart
to welcome the Child who comes,
the eternal Word who becomes flesh
without demanding place or forcing doors,
without imposing His Love.
Purify, Lord, our memory,
so that the path may not be mere remembrance, but conversion.
Awaken in us a simple hope, capable of rejoicing even in rejection,
and a humble joy that does not depend on being consoled, but on knowing oneself loved.
May these Little Journeys teach us to walk slowly,
not to anticipate the end, nor flee from weariness, nor close the heart.
Make us interior pilgrims, so that when we arrive in Bethlehem,
we do not pass by, but know how to adore.
Through Jesus Christ, Your Son, who comes to us in poverty
and lives and reigns with You in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
and is God forever and ever.
Amen.
Today the path leads us to the well of Sychar. The place is recognized at once: a resting point in the middle of the journey, a depth dug into the earth, a silent wait. It is not the goal, but neither is it a mere passage. It is a place of encounter.
I walk with you, Mary of Nazareth, and with you, Nazarene Patriarch, and I feel that today the step becomes more interior. The terrain invites us to stop. The well is there, silent, as if it guarded the memory of so many human thirsts. I approach you, my Child, while Joseph tends to the little donkey and looks for a place where we can stop for a while.
—Lady —I say to you—, here the path seems to ask for a pause.
You look at the well, deep, dark, faithful.
—It is good to stop when the heart needs to remember what it thirsts for —you reply to me.
I remain thoughtful. The well does not shout, does not impose itself; it simply is, waiting for whoever wants to draw water. And I understand that this is how God acts: He does not burst in, does not force, He waits.
I approach Joseph. I see him attentive, strong, serene. He does not sit completely; he remains standing, vigilant.
—My Father —I say to him—, how does one care for the path when one stops?
He replies to me with sturdy simplicity:
—By watching so that rest does not become forgetfulness of duty.
Here, by the well of Sychar, I remember that many years later Your Son, my Child, will speak right here with a Samaritan woman, weary, thirsty for something she does not know how to name. Today He is not yet manifest, but He already passes through here, hidden in your womb.
—Mary —I say to You—, I too am thirsty, but many times I do not know for what.
You do not give me a long answer. You say only:
—Remain. True thirst is recognized in silence.
And I remain. I do not draw water yet: I first learn to wait. I understand that this journey does not ask me to advance much, but to deepen. It does not ask me to do, but to let God do. The well remains there.
Prayer
My Child, Little Virgin of Nazareth,
You who pass by this well in silence,
teach me not to flee from my thirst.
Keep me from filling myself with superficial things
when what I need is depth.
Teach me to wait without impatience
and to trust that God knows when and how to quench my heart.
Father and Lord of mine Saint Joseph, faithful guardian of the path and of rest,
teach me to stop without neglecting,
to rest without forgetting the mission,
to watch even when it seems that nothing is happening.
Give me your prudence,
your quiet strength,
your constant attention to what God entrusts.
And You, Child Jesus who comes,
Living Water still hidden,
who today passes by this well without being recognized,
enter into my depths, into my dryness, into my clumsy waits.
Come slowly, when You will,
and quench in me the thirst that only You know.
By: Mons. Alberto José González Chaves