My family used to spend their summer holidays in our little cottage on the Yorkshire moors just below the mighty Ingleborough, which was the nearest thing I had ever seen to a mountain.
Pietro Bernadone, the father of St Francis, was proud of his son’s business skills. He was proud too that he was popular with his peers. He looked on with admiration to see the sons of the local aristocracy vying for his friendship and favour along with the other...
For the feast day of St Francis on the 4 October, I am beginning a series of blogs on the life of St Francis of Assisi.
Although Jesus was full of love and could communicate it to others whilst He was on earth, God’s plan was initially limited. In other words, in entering into a world of space and time, Jesus was necessarily limited by the laws of space and time. To put it simply, he...
Recently I wrote about the sacred touch used by the first Apostles and their successors to hand down the love that had been received by Jesus to successive generations.
Sometime ago I was speaking about what I called Mystical Premonitions or Touches of God
I always find that Wimbledon is something of a spiritual experience. Of course I don’t watch for that reason, I watch because I enjoy the matches, but every year the dedication of the players …..
In 1986 the Sea of Galilee receded during a drought exposing an ancient fishing boat, 27 feet long by 7.5 feet wide.
I simply worshipped the heroes of ancient Greece when I was at school. I loved to hear stories about Troy and the heroes who fought there.
When I first decided to spend my life searching for God I visited the great Carthusian monastery, St Hugh’s Charterhouse, Parkminster in Sussex with the intention of living the enclosed eremitical life.
Brother John was a man with the best of intentions but a terrible temper that made him impossible to live with. He decided to go into the desert and find a monastery where he could come to terms with his affliction.
My mother taught me to say my Morning Offering the moment I woke up in the morning. But above all she showed me how to put it into practice by her own example.
Archbishop Anthony Bloom gave one of the best retreats I ever attended. He began by telling the story of a retired headmistress who offered her services to him as his chauffeur.
My mother’s death happened so quickly and was so unexpected that I had difficulty coming to terms with it at the time. Everything seemed so unreal. I just didn’t feel anything
The Resurrection, means that Jesus has been swept up out of the world of space and time in which he’d lived before, not to leave us alone, but to be closer to us than ever before, and as he promised ‘even to the end of time.’
All my life I’ve suffered from dyslexia, but it was virtually unknown when I was a boy. The verdict of my teachers was divided between “that boy is stupid” and “that boy is bone-idle”,
‘I remember, I remember the house where I was born, the little window where the sun came peeping in at dawn’. (Thomas Hood – 1826) I remember the bomb that smashed that window into pieces and spread them over my bed and all over the bedroom floor. I remember...
The great gothic cathedrals were meant to raise hearts and minds to the transcendental majesty of God and at the same time make you aware of your smallness, weakness and unworthiness…
‘In all the world there is not a man who can possess anyone of you without first dying to himself.’
When I was a student I spent some time working with ‘down and outs’ through the Simon Community, and later through the Saint Mungo Community.