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 deprivation, 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 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.
Night falls completely. Bethlehem is left behind with its lights turned off for us. There are no more calls or waits; the path stops in the open air, and yet, something in the air announces rest.
I walk with You, my Child, and I discover on Your face a new peace, as if the rejection had cleared the exact place where God wants to be born. The Nazarene Patriarch observes the surroundings with serene attention; there is no anxiety in his gestures, but humble resolve.
—My Child —I say to You—, I would have insisted one more time. I would have called again. It costs me to accept that the search ends here.
You look at the poor space that opens before us and respond to me with a simplicity that disarms me:
—Nothing ends here: everything begins.
Joseph steps forward a few paces and prepares the place as best he can. Without words, each of his gestures is a declaration of love.
—Father and Lord of mine —I say to him—, how does one make a home where there is nothing?
He looks at me with gentle firmness:
—One makes a home when one loves without conditions.
And then I understand: poverty is not the absence of love; it is its purest form. Here there is nothing to distract or compete, nothing that takes space from the Divine Redeemer who is about to manifest Himself.
—Mary —I whisper—, so many times I have waited for better conditions to open my heart to You.
You smile barely:
—God does not wait for conditions but for availability.
The night is cold, but also clear. The stars seem closer and the silence does not weigh; it embraces. And my heart, which so many times resisted, today rejoices in having nothing to offer… because thus it can offer itself entirely. I feel a gentle, profound joy, without euphoria. A joy that does not shout, but knows. The Expected Messiah is near. There is no longer a path: only waiting.
Prayer
Mary of Nazareth, my Virgin, Child of the yes,
teach me to love the poverty of the heart.
When all that is mine falls short and I have nothing to present,
teach me to offer myself without reservations,
knowing that God delights in what is small and hidden.
Joseph, Father and Lord of mine,
master of the home made with little,
teach me to love with simple deeds,
to prepare with care what is poor,
and to guard with reverence the mystery entrusted to me.
Make me find a discreet joy in the duty fulfilled out of love.
And You, Adonai who comes,
my Savior who chooses the open air,
Divine Redeemer who does not fear the night,
enter already into my life: I offer You no grandeurs, but my waiting.
Bud about to open to You,
make of my heart a humble little portal where You can be born every day.
By: Mons. Alberto José González Chaves