We are familiar with the almost comically unfamiliar Kings that we meet today, journeying in Eastern finery, sticking out like a sore thumb so much that they are strangely familiar, as though there has been a fire alarm in Funny Girls and all the cast were out on the street, exoticism suddenly brought face to face with minicabs and rain and litter. The Magi are not the dusty east of poor Palestinian peasants under Roman occupation, but the spice-laden Persian east, the Aladdi

Epiphany is here, and the last Hurrah of Christmas with it, although it carries on liturgically until next Sunday and in a slightly more...

It was a year ago today, on the feast of the Epiphany, that I said my last Sunday Mass in my previous parish. I remained there for a few...