
1 DEC
“What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God?”
In Laudato Si’ §120, Pope Francis recalls St Francis’s reverence for creation, citing The Remembrance of the Desire of a Soul (Thomas of Celano, ch. 124):
“When the brothers are cutting wood, [Francis] forbids them to cut down the whole tree, so that it might have hope of sprouting again… He commands the gardener to leave the edges of the garden, so that herbs and flowers may proclaim the beautiful Father of all. He even picks up little worms from the road so they will not be trampled.”
At Hilfield Friary, we try to follow this wisdom. We lay hedges, coppice and pollard trees—practices that have extended the life of ancient oaks and their biodiversity. We leave “untidy” patches—nettles and brambles that nurtureinsects and birds.
Ragwort, though toxic to cattle, is relocated, not destroyed. Last summer we moved cinnabar caterpillars to safer ragwort patches, letting them mature into beautiful moths—just as Francis
moved worms from harm.
Eco churches often leave unmown areas in churchyards, surrounded by tidy edges.
Some follow “No Mow May.”
Wise ecology is about making room—not imposing control. As we seek justice for people, we are also called to honour and protect creation.
God’s mercy embraces every creature and ecosystem.
Br Hugh SSF
Hilfield Friary
TAKE A WALK IN NATURE
Take time today to step outside into a garden, park, woodland, or even a balcony.
Walk slowly, noticing textures, sounds, and the way light touches leaf or branch.
Bend down and hold a handful of soil, or breathe deeply and listen to birdsong.
Ask yourself: Where is God arriving in creation today?
Praised be you, my Lord, through out Sister Mother Earth, Who sustains and governs us, and who produces various fruits with coloured flowers and herbs.
(The Canticle of the Creatures, 9)
Creator God ,
teach me to walk gently,
to make room,
and to live in harmony
with the world
You have made.
This Advent, I find myself drawn outdoors, to damp leaves, bare branches, breath hanging in the cold air.
In Forest School sessions in the UK and outdoor worship with children, I’ve seen how creation becomes a church.
We listen for God in birdsong, notice grace in the shape of a fallen feather, and find wonder in the winter stillness.
It reminds me that Jesus wasn’t born in a building, but beneath stars, mong animals, into the earthy life of the world.
As I wait for Christ, I want to keep my senses open: watching, listening, touching the soil where God is quietly arriving again.
“Let it be to me according to your word.”
At 27 weeks, Mary the God-bearer reaches the edge of something new.
The child within her is nearly fully formed, moving with strength and rhythm.
She likely feels every kick, every twist, reminding her that life is both fragile and powerful.
This moment is a turning point– not just in pregnancy, but in faith.
As her body begins to stretch and strain under the growing weight of the Christ Child, Mary’s earlier “yes” takes on deeper meaning.
She is becoming the first to share in his suffereing and discomfort, her body already bearing the cost of love.
Like a living altar, she holds the hidden mystery of salvation within her.
God is at work in this unseen space, forming life through surrender, through waiting, through pain.
I wonder how Mary stayed present to this slow and sacred becoming.
I wonder what hidden work God is doing in me as I wait and trust.
If you keep an Advent Journal, here are some ideas you could write about;
Francis reminds us that even weeds praise God.
Creation doesn’t need to be controlled – just welcomed.
Reflect and write: where in my life do I try to manage or dominate, when I could make space instead?
How might I “leave room for wildflowers” – in my routines, my relationships, my prayer, or my care for the Earth? What small act of mercy toward creation can I offer this week?
Finish with one quiet intention: “Today, I will honour creation by…”Let your response be gentle, joyful, and rooted in humility.