A Nativity Fast of Silence

There are seasons when the soul no longer asks for more words,

only for fewer.

Not because speaking is wrong,

but because the heart senses that language has become crowded.

Even holy things can make noise when the interior is swollen with thought.

Even prayer can become agitation

when the mind has no quiet space into which God may speak.

This Nativity fast offers an invitation,

not to flee responsibility or withdraw from love,

but to simplify.

To lay aside unnecessary speaking

and let the tongue rest.

To loosen the grip of constant reading and intake.

To step back from the stream of conversation, information, and reaction.

Not as rejection, but as clearing of the heart’s chamber

so the Word Himself may be born there.

Perhaps this season is not asking for more effort,

but less.

Less reaching for stimulation.

Less consuming of text, image, voice.

Less performing of spirituality,

and more abiding in the unadorned presence of God.

Silence can become food.

Vigil can become breath.

Tasks, routines, work of the hands,

can become prayer without announcement.

This is not inactivity;

it is purification of attention.

For one can read endlessly

and never hear God.

One can speak beautifully

and never listen.

One can think fervently

and never descend into the heart.

So let this fast be one of holy subtraction.

Let the phone be lifted less often.

Let conversations be fewer, slower, gentler.

Let pages be read slowly, even the same paragraph again and again,

until it becomes prayer and not consumption.

Let the mind grow lean and clear,

like desert air at night.

Let the house or room where you dwell become a small monastery,

not because you impose monasticism upon yourself,

but because you allow quiet to settle like snow.

A cave must be empty

before the Child can rest there.

The Nativity will not erupt with noise and spectacle.

It will come like dawn,

soft, gradual, inevitable

to the one who watches.

So let this season be:

less rush

less speech

less seeking signs

and more waiting-without-demand,

more prayer that is simply presence,

more vigil in the night when the world is asleep.

Arrive at Bethlehem not with crowded thoughts

but with an open heart:

poor, spacious, receptive.

The Incarnate One was born into simplicity.

We must approach Him the same way.

Withdraw without escaping.

Grow silent without fear.

Stand before God without expectation.

Let time slow, let the mind settle,

let the cave of the heart grow empty and warm.

For in that stillness

Christ is born.