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.
INITIAL 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 journey 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 journey 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 a place or forcing doors,
without imposing His Love.
Purify, Lord, our memory,
so that the journey may not be merely a 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.
The path narrows. It is no longer an idea or a distant wait: Bethlehem is near. The land becomes poor, almost ungrateful. There are no great roads or visible signs. And yet, my heart beats with a mixture of emotion and trembling.
I walk with You, my Virgin, and I feel that Your step is slower. Not from fatigue, but from fullness. The Patriarch pulls on the reins of the little donkey. Everything in you is recollection. Everything is truth.
We enter the first paths of Bethlehem. We ask. We knock. We wait. The doors crack open… and close. There is no violence or open contempt; there is something worse: haste, distraction, indifference. And then something breaks inside me.
—My child —I say to You with a shrunken soul—, so many times I have been that door that does not open. Not out of malice, but out of carelessness. For being busy. For not realizing.
You look at me. There is no reproach in Your eyes. Only a serene light.
—Do not dwell on that —You tell me—. Love does not come to accuse: it comes to be born.
We continue walking. I hope that at the next door there will be room, but no; and at the following one, neither. I feel a gentle sadness, not bitter, like when one recognizes a truth that hurts, but that liberates.
I approach Joseph.
—My Father, does not sorrow overwhelm you?
He responds with a firm and low voice:
—Sorrow, no. Hope. Because God does not give up when He is not received.
And then I understand: the joy has not gone away. It is there, more hidden, more pure. It does not depend on an inn, nor on human welcome. The Savior comes, come what may.
—Lady —I say to You—, I would have expected joy in the welcome, not in the rejection.
You smile, and that smile is stronger than any closed door.
—True joy does not need permission —You reply to me—. It is born because God fulfills His promise.
Bethlehem does not know what it is losing. But I begin to know what I am gaining: a God who does not demand or force; a Child who rejoices in coming, even when He is not expected. And my heart, which so many times was a closed inn, begins today to open from within.
Prayer
My Virgin, Immaculate Mother, Mary of Nazareth,
teach me a joy that does not depend on being accepted,
a hope that does not fade before rejection,
a faith that raises my desire to welcome Your Jesus.
Joseph, my Father and Lord,
teach me your silent hope,
which does not break when there is no room and continues seeking without bitterness,
because it knows that God always has a way to be born.
Make me live that simple joy that does not hang on circumstances.
And You, my Savior, Awaited Messiah,
Adonai who comes without demanding,
do not pass by even though so many times I have not opened to You.
Enter now into my heart, not as reproach, but as joy.
Flower of Galilee that springs forth in poverty,
make of my life a humble Bethlehem where Your joy can be born.
By: Msgr. Alberto José González Chaves