We begin a new day of the Jornaditas de la Virgen, an Advent journey 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,
on 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 is coming,
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 merely 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 Jornaditas 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 changes sign: the route begins to descend, moving away from the most traveled places and heading toward poorer, quieter, more humble paths. The ground becomes rougher. The landscape loses its shine. Everything seems simpler… and more true.
I walk with you, my Lady, and I notice that your step is slower. Not from tiredness, but from recollection. The Patriarch leads the little donkey with special care. Here the path allows no carelessness.
—My Virgin —I say to you—, I feel that today the path grows poorer. There are no longer great memories or nearby cities. Is this going backward?
You look at me with a very deep sweetness.
—It is not going backward —you tell me—. It is drawing closer to the essential.
I then understand that the descent is not loss, but purification; that God does not always lead toward the visible heights, but toward the true depths.
I approach Joseph: today he walks with a firm step, but attentive to the terrain.
—My Father and Lord —I say to him—, why does it seem that God now leads us through the simplest, almost hidden ways?
He responds without raising his voice:
—Because what is to be born needs no greatness, but truth.
The wind is dry; scarcely any birds are heard: everything invites sobriety. And I think of my life, how many times I seek adorned paths, intense experiences, grand words… when God asks me for silence and fidelity.
—My Child —I say to You—, it costs me to accept this poverty of the path.
You do not reproach me for anything:
—Poverty is not absence but space.
And I begin to understand that Bethlehem is not prepared with abundance, but with detachment; that the Redeemer does not seek a heart full of things, but a soul free. We continue descending. Each step seems to remove something superfluous. And though the body feels the strain, the soul begins to rest.
Prayer
My Virgin, Mary of Nazareth, Lady of the hidden path,
teach me not to fear smallness.
Uproot from me the desire to appear and give me the grace to be true.
Make my heart poor in pride and rich in trust,
so that the Awaited Messiah may find in me a place to rest.
Joseph, my Father and Lord,
guide my steps when the path descends and faith becomes more bare.
Teach me your humble strength: that which does not need to be seen to be faithful.
Make me constant when there are no applause or consolations.
And You, Divine Redeemer, my Savior who chooses the poverty of the path,
enter my life without fear of my emptinesses.
Hidden Adonai, make of my smallness a habitable place for You.
May I not close the door to You out of fear of losing:
may I open my heart knowing that only You are the true wealth.
By: Mons. Alberto José González Chaves