As July dawns, the Church finds herself deep in the long green season of Ordinary Time — a time that is anything but ordinary. These summer days, ablaze with light, invite us to contemplate the eternal radiance of God’s kingdom, breaking forth even in the midst of a fractured world. It is a month strewn with feasts and memories, of saints and martyrs whose lives whisper of heaven’s nearness.
Among those we commemorate are Thomas the Apostle (3 July), who dared to touch the wounded Christ and became a bold witness to the risen Lord — reminding us that faith often emerges through the honest struggle with doubt. On 22 July, we honour Mary Magdalene, apostola apostolorum, first herald of the Resurrection, whose tears at the empty tomb were turned into proclamation. And on 25 July, the Church turns toward St James the Apostle, son of thunder and martyr of Jerusalem, reminding us that discipleship is a road both radiant and rugged. These saints are not distant relics of memory but vibrant companions who testify to the ongoing story of grace. As theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar once wrote, “The saints are sent so that the light of Christ may not go out in the world.” Their feasts anchor us, even as the long days stretch out like golden psalms over field and fen, summoning us into deeper communion with one another and with God. In this season, the created order itself seems to lift its voice in praise. Gardens flourish, churches fill with the scent of flowers and Tony’s wood polish, and conversations linger at the thresholds of homes and sanctuaries. Community — sacred, messy, incarnational — becomes the living liturgy of July. The Kingdom is near, not only in the chalice and the creed, but in laughter shared across garden fences, in the elderly parishioner’s quiet wisdom, in the barefoot child trailing dandelions across the churchyard. Yet, while the sunlight dances through stained glass and hedgerow alike, we cannot ignore the shadows that stretch across the global landscape. The world teeters dangerously close to the precipice of further war — from Gaza to Ukraine, from Sudan to silent battlegrounds within fractured societies. In this hour, we turn again to the God who “makes wars cease to the ends of the earth” (Psalm 46:9), and we dare to pray for peace, not as passive hope, but as costly commitment. A Prayer for Peace Lord of Hosts and Prince of Peace, in a world riven with conflict and bruised by pride, grant us the courage to be peacemakers in your name. Let swords be beaten into ploughshares, and the cries of the innocent be turned into songs of justice. May your Church be a place of refuge, your people bearers of light in every darkness, and your Kingdom come — not only in heaven, but here, amid the wild and waiting fields of July. Through Christ our Lord, Amen. This month, may we not grow weary in our calling. Let us gather in worship and word, in bread and prayer, knowing that the Spirit is at work — quietly sowing seeds of renewal in our midst. As St Augustine reminds us, “In loving our neighbour, we prepare our eyes to see God.” Let July be a hymn: sung under open skies, held by ancient rhythms, and charged with the holy possibility of transformation.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
NewsBlog Submissions are always very welcome. Share anything you like ! Please send news, articles of interest and events to CommsStJohn'[email protected] Events DiaryCategories
All
Archives
June 2025
|
|