Nacimiento de Jesús
Se ha promulgado un edicto de César Augusto, y manda empadronar a todo el mundo. Cada cual ha de ir, para esto, al pueblo de donde arranca su estirpe. -Como es José de la casa y familia de David, va con la Virgen María desde Nazaret a la ciudad llamada Belén, en Judea. (Luc., II, 1-5.)
Y en Belén nace nuestro Dios: ¡Jesucristo!-No hay lugar en la posada: en un establo.-Y su Madre le envuelve en pañales y le recuesta en el pesebre. (Luc., II, 7.)
Frio.-Pobreza.-Soy un esclavito de José.-¡Qué bueno es José!-Me trata como un padre a su hijo. ¡Hasta me perdona, si cojo en mis brazos al Niño y me quedo, horas y horas diciéndole cosas dulces y encendidas!...
Y le beso -bésale tú- , y le bailo, y le canto, y le llamo Rey, Amor, mi Dios, mi Unico, mi Todo!... ¡Qué hermoso es el Niño... y qué corta la decena!
(San Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer: Santo Rosario)
The Nativity
Caesar Augustus has issued a decree for a census to be taken of the whole world. For this purpose, everyone must go to the city of his ancestors. And, since Joseph belongs to the house and line of David, he goes with the Virgin Mary from Nazareth to the town of David, called Bethlehem, in Judea (Lk 2: 1-5).
And in Bethlehem is born our God: Jesus Christ! There is no room in the inn; he is born in a stable. And his mother wraps him in swaddling clothes and lays him in a manger (Lk 2: 7).
Cold. Poverty. . . . I am Joseph’s little servant. How good Joseph is! He treats me like a son. He even forgives me if I take the Child in my arms and spend hour after hour saying sweet and loving things to him.
And I kiss him—you kiss him, too!—and I rock him in my arms, and I sing to him and call him King, Love, my God, my Only-one, my All. . . ! How beautiful is the Child . . . and how short the decade!
And in Bethlehem is born our God: Jesus Christ! There is no room in the inn; he is born in a stable. And his mother wraps him in swaddling clothes and lays him in a manger (Lk 2: 7).
Cold. Poverty. . . . I am Joseph’s little servant. How good Joseph is! He treats me like a son. He even forgives me if I take the Child in my arms and spend hour after hour saying sweet and loving things to him.
And I kiss him—you kiss him, too!—and I rock him in my arms, and I sing to him and call him King, Love, my God, my Only-one, my All. . . ! How beautiful is the Child . . . and how short the decade!
(St. Josemaría Escrivá de Balaguer: Holy Rosary)
