19th December

Dear brothers and sisters in Christ, dear friends, as Advent draws to its close, the Church asks us to slow down. These last days before Christmas are not loud. They are careful. They invite us to notice what is usually missed. God is at work, but not in ways that shout.

Our first reading from the Book of Judges, begins with a woman who has no name and no child. In her world, that meant she carried both sorrow and shame. Yet she is the one who hears God’s promise. Life will come from her body, not by human effort, but by God’s gift. Her son, Samson, will be strong, but his story will be mixed. He will be called, yet flawed. Scripture does not tidy him up. From the start, we learn that God chooses real people, not perfect ones. The Spirit begins to stir in Samson while he is still young, quietly, slowly. God does not rush.

The Psalm gives us the prayer of someone who has learned trust over time. “In you, O Lord, I take refuge.” This is not a quick prayer. It is spoken by someone who has looked back and noticed a pattern. “From my mother’s womb you have been my strength.” Faith here is not excitement. It is memory. It is the steady belief that God has carried us before, and will do so again. Many of us know this prayer from the Examen. At the end of the day, we look back and ask, where was God today, even when I did not notice at the time?

The Gospel from Luke brings us into the Temple. Zechariah is doing his duty, offering incense, when his life is interrupted. He and Elizabeth have prayed for years, and nothing has happened. They are good people, Luke says, but still childless. Then the angel speaks. Zechariah asks for proof, and instead he is given silence. He will not speak again until the child is born.

This silence is not cruelty. It is a gift. Zechariah must learn to listen. His name means “the Lord remembers.” Elizabeth’s name means “my God is abundance.” Before anything happens, their names already tell the truth. God has not forgotten. God is not stingy. John, whose name means “the Lord is gracious,” is formed in months of quiet. He will not be the centre. He will point away from himself. His greatness will be to prepare the way.

Luke tells this story in the style of the Old Testament. He wants us to hear the echoes of Abraham and Sarah, of Hannah and Samuel. God has always worked like this. Promise first. Waiting next. Fulfilment later. Advent sits us inside that pattern.

This is where Ignatian prayer helps us. We can imagine the scene. Picture Elizabeth in her home, keeping out of sight, wondering what God is doing. Picture Zechariah learning to speak with his hands, his eyes, his patience. Ask yourself where you are being asked to wait without answers. Where God might be asking you to trust rather than explain.

For many in Zimbabwe today, waiting is not a spiritual exercise but daily life. Waiting for work. Waiting for medicine. Waiting for stability. The danger is to believe that nothing is happening. Advent tells us otherwise. God is at work in the waiting. But that work needs protection. New life is fragile. It needs communities that choose fairness, leaders who serve rather than take, and hearts that refuse to forget the poor. Quiet faith must become care that can be seen.

These readings do not promise quick fixes. They promise presence. God is faithful in the long stretch of time. God works through people who feel small, through silence, through patience.

In a few days we will celebrate the birth of Christ. But before there is a child in a manger, there is an old priest who cannot speak, a woman who waits in hope, and a people learning to trust again. That is where Christmas begins.

As we continue this Advent journey, let us carry these questions with us.

• Where in my life am I being asked to wait and trust, rather than push for control?
• Who around me is living in a long season of waiting, and how can I stand with them in practical ways?
• What quiet work might God be doing in me now, preparing the way for Christ to be born anew?