Gospel Mark 9:2-10 Jesus took with him Peter and James and John and led them up a high mountain where they could be alone by themselves. There in their presence he was transfigured: his clothes became dazzlingly white, whiter than any earthly bleacher could make them. Elijah appeared to them with Moses; and they were talking with Jesus. Then Peter spoke to Jesus: ‘Rabbi,’ he said ‘it is wonderful for us to be here; so let us make three tents, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.’ He did not know what to say; they were so frightened. And a cloud came, covering them in shadow; and there came a voice from the cloud, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.’ Then suddenly, when they looked round, they saw no one with them any more but only Jesus. As they came down from the mountain he warned them to tell no one what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. They observed the warning faithfully, though among themselves they discu...
I live on the Wirral, or in the Wirral or in Wirral depending upon your sense of geography. It's a small peninsular in the North West of England about 10 miles by seven; the River Dee separates us from the Roman city of Chester and the hills of North Wales; the River Mersey from the city of Liverpool and motorways Northwards. Out to the West, Liverpool Bay leads into the Irish Sea and across to Ireland herself. Theoretically, I am told, it's almost an island as two ship canals come to a point where you can step from one to the other but the transport links of motorways and trains seem to defy that particular definition. Across to the Welsh Hills The Wirral is still mostly suburban or countryside, originally part of a hunting forest that was planted in the 12th Century. It has been home to Roman, Saxon, Viking and Norman settlers. Pre-Roman it was home to a Celtic tribe called the Cornovii and there is evidence of Christian Celts from the the 5th and 6th Centu...
my mother and my grand-daughter two years ago Today I visited my family home for perhaps the last time. My mother died nearly five months ago now, peacefully at home and after a long illness, and it has taken this long for the initial sense of loss to pass; the paperwork to be processed and the division of belongings, bequests and gifts to be made. Today I called in to collect the last items before the house goes on sale. Books, pictures, unmatched crockery, glass bowls and vases; holy statues and pictures; the usual accumulation that remains after 48 years of living in the same house. Those items of sentimentality and personal taste that none of us wants and no-one can bear to throw away. Indeed it was a dying wish that nothing was thrown away. My father also died at home, five years ago, and I have to say that I have never gone into the house without being aware of his presence. To the point that sometimes I used to pray for him to go. But the truth is, that ...
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and I wanted to let you know that my prayers are with you during this difficult time.