Advent is not merely a countdown to Christmas; it is a profound and active season of preparation, echoing the ancient call of the prophet Isaiah: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make straight his paths" (Mark 1:3). This spiritual task invites us to examine the landscapes of our hearts, identifying the rough edges of sin, the mountains of pride, and the valleys of despair that obstruct the King’s entry. We are called to be diligent, not passive, in this holy waiting. Just as the world yearns for the light in the deepest darkness of winter, so too do we wait in hope for the glorious fulfillment of God's promise in the Christ Child's birth. This hope is not a wish, but a certainty rooted in the fidelity of God, reminding us that He has come, He is present, and He will come again in glory. This season is a grace-filled opportunity to welcome the Savior not just into a stable in Bethlehem, but into the dwelling place of our very souls.
In this quest to prepare the way, we have no better guides than the Blessed Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph. Mary models the perfect Advent posture: fiat—the complete, trusting "yes" to God's will, which allowed the Word to become flesh within her. She teaches us the virtues of humility, silent contemplation, and a readiness to carry the divine life into the world, even amidst uncertainty. Saint Joseph, the just man, exemplifies faithful obedience, protective silence, and devoted service. His willingness to take the Holy Family under his wing, even when circumstances were baffling, shows us how to trust in the quiet, unfolding plan of God. By looking to the Holy Family, we learn that preparing the way of the Lord means cultivating Mary's radical receptivity and Joseph's humble obedience, allowing the light of Christ to shine forth from our lives and illuminate the path for others.
I am just beginning to dive into the beautiful, ancient devotion to the Five Wounds of Jesus, and I wanted to share a bit of the journey with you. It can feel a little overwhelming at first to look at the Crucifix this closely, but I’ve found such a gentle guide in St. Bernard of Clairvaux . In his Jubilee Rhythm on the Passion, Bernard doesn't treat the wounds of Jesus as distant historical facts or sights to be avoided. Instead, he approaches them with the tenderness of a friend, speaking directly to the feet, hands, side, and face of our Lord. For someone like me who is just starting out, his rhythm teaches that prayer isn't just about reciting words; it’s a holy hide-and-seek. Bernard invites us to literally hide ourselves within these wounds, seeing them as clefts in the rock where we can find shelter when our own lives feel turbulent or heavy. As I start this process, I’ve been practicing what I call gazing and greeting. Following Bernard’s lead, I look at the Crucifix an...
Comments
Post a Comment