lurchersontheedge

Crist y Brenin | Eglwys Santes Mair | 21ain Tachwedd

Mae’r eglwys yn dathlu gwledd Crist y brenin heddiw.

Tybed beth rydyn ni’n ei ddeall wrth y gair, ‘brenin’. Yn amser Iesu, o fewn yr Ymerodraeth Rufeinig, nid oedd ond un brenin; Cesar.Roedd gan Cesar bŵer absoliwt. Nid oedd Cesar yn frenin cyfansoddiadol.

Nid yw Iesu Grist yn frenin gyfansoddiadol chwaith. Mae gan Iesu bŵer absoliwt hefyd. Fodd bynnag, mae Crist y brenin yn dewis defnyddio ei rym yn wahanol

Rwyf am ddweud tri pheth am frenhiniaeth Iesu. Un peth o bob un o’n tri darlleniad.

O Daniel, Iesu y barnwr.
O’r Datguddiad, Iesu y tyst
O Efengyl Ioan, Iesu yr un sy’n datgan y gwirionedd’.

Mae Daniel yn un o broffwydi’r Hen Destament. Mae Llyfr Daniel yn llenyddiaeth apocalyptaidd. Mae llawer o bobl yn meddwl mai apocalyptaidd yn sôn am ddiwedd y byd. Nid yw hynny’n wir.Yn hytrach, daw’r gair ‘apocalyptig’ o’r byd Groegaidd sy’n golygu ‘dadorchuddio’. Mae’n golygu gweld pethau fel y mae’n nhw go iawn.

Yn llyfr Daniel, sefydlir llys nefol. Mae’r Un Hynafol yn eistedd ar yr orsedd. Disgrifir ef mewn iaith liwgar iawn. Agorir llyfrau’r farn.Yna mae ffigur arall yn ymddangos. Fe’i disgrifir fel bod dynol neu fel mab y dyn. Mae bob awdurdod yn cael ei roi i’r ffigur hwn. Rhoddir comisiwn iddo. Mae i fod yn farnwr.

Mae Iesu’n defnyddio un ymadrodd penodol i ddisgrifio’i hun: mab y dyn.
Beth mae barnwr yn ei wneud? Mae barnwr yn dehongli’r dystiolaeth.
Tybed sut mae Iesu’n dehongli tystiolaeth fy mywyd?

Yn llyfr y Datguddiad, disgrifir Iesu fel y tyst ffyddlon. Disgrifir Iesu hefyd fel rheolwr brenhinoedd y ddaear!
Cofiwch! Yn amser Iesu, Cesar oedd yr unig frenin yn yr Ymerodraeth Rufeinig. Cynigiodd yr eglwys gynnar dyst i’r gwirionedd deinamig hwn: Iesu ydi’r Arglwydd. Nid Cesar. Roedd yn ddatganiad a achosodd ddaeargryn gwleidyddol ac ysbrydol.
Llyfr gwrthnysig iawn yw Llyfr y Datguddiad. Mae’n llyfr sy’n rhoi gobaith i rai o Gristnogion tlotaf y byd; yn Affrica ac Asia. Mae’r llyfr yn gwneud hyn trwy ddisgrifio pren mesur y byd (Iesu) fel llew ac oen ar yr un pryd. Efallai un diwrnod y gallwn ei astudio gyda’n gilydd?
Sut ydw i’n dyst ffyddlon i Iesu Grist?
Arferai fy mam cadw cherdyn post yn y gegin gartref. Roedd y geiriau hyn ar y cerdyn post. Roedd llun o farnwr hefyd. ‘Pe byddech chi’n cael eich arestio am fod yn Gristion, a fyddai digon o dystiolaeth i’ch collfarnu?’
Mae Crist yn ein galw ni’n ffrindiau ond yn gofyn inni gynnig dystio i’r byd o’n cwmpas.
Yn Efengyl Ioan, Iesu yw’r yr un sy’n dweud y gwirl. Saif Iesu gerbron y barnwr, Pilat.
Mae Pilat eisiau rhoi Iesu mewn blwch. Ni dderbyniodd Iesu hyn fel opsiwn. Cyhoeddodd Iesu mai ef oedd yr un a ddywedodd y gwir. Ni allai Pilat ddeall hyn.
Weithiau, nid ydym am i’r gwir gael ei ddweud. Neu ei roi mewn ffordd arall, mae gwirionedd yn anghyfforddus. Nid ydym am i Iesu fod yn anghyfforddus.
Ni ellir rhoi teyrnas Duw mewn bocs. Ni all Iesu gael ei roi mewn bocs. Waeth faint yr hoffem gymryd rhannau o ddysgeidiaeth Iesu ac efallai anghofio’r gweddill.
Dywedodd Iesu wrth Pilat nad oedd ei deyrnas o’r byd hwn. Beth oedd yn ei olygu wrth hynny? Roedd Iesu’n golygu bod ei deyrnas wedi’i siapio gan werthoedd Duw.
Mae’r gwerthoedd hynny’n cael eu siapio gan ffyddlondeb, dweud y gwir a rhannu bywyd. Dangosodd Iesu inni sut i wneud hyn. Gadewch inni ei ddilyn O. Treuliodd Iesu amser gyda’r rhai na fyddai eraill byth wedi treulio amser gyda nhw.
Ydw i’n rhannu yn y gwir am Iesu? Ydw i’n barod i gyfrif y gost?
Cynigiodd Iesu batrwm gwahanol o arweinyddiaeth. Mae Iesu’n mynnu popeth, ond byth yn dweud wrth bobl beth i’w wneud. Roedd Iesu yn was. Gobeithio bod gen i’r dewrder i fod yn was i chi. Rwyf am weinidogaethu fel hyn oherwydd rwyf am ichi weld Iesu.Nid yw teyrnas Dduw o’r byd hwn. Fodd bynnag, mae’n deyrnas sy’n trawsnewid popeth rydyn ni’n ei wybod.

Gweddïwn.Iesu y breninIesu y barnwrIesu y tyst ffyddlonIesu y Gyhoeddwrcaniatá i’n bywydau gael eu siapio gennych chi, eu trawsnewid gennych chi, eich garu chi.Rho ras i ni adlewyrchu Iesu chi i’r rhai o’n cwmpas.

I found the debate held at the Governing Body of the Church in Wales very difficult. I am not talking only about the outcome, but for what it seemed to demonstrate. There were (at least) two different understandings of the gospel, kingdom, and church on display. In the main, those speaking from either side of the hall were not speaking to each other. Debates are often sadly like that.

On the one side, there were either the defenders of orthodoxy or those who were seeking to undermine what God was saying and on the other those who were listening to what the Spirit was saying or those who were being reckless with scripture, reason, and tradition in favour of the god of experience. Neither would be fair. A handful of speakers acknowledged this.

I was concerned that not being a theologian was a badge of honour in a church that gifted Rowan Williams to the wider Communion, and how the Anglican Communion was belittled. It is my opinion that in an increasingly fragmented world we need to walk in step with our brothers and sisters from other parts of the world. The counter argument is that we need to walk with our marginalised brothers and sister here as well. I do not belittle that argument, nor do I not acknowledge that the global Communion needs to be challenged. That needs to be done carefully, Christianity is not western and to imply those in the global south need to change smacks a little of a colonial attitude.

There were times when each side was debating with a caricature of the other. Whilst for the most part courteous, most including at times myself lacked any intent of understanding the arguments of the other side. Evangelicalism is not the same as when this debate was first raised, but then nor is the liberal tradition. Evangelicals do not for example talk a lot about hell and damnation, indeed I have preached on hell only five times in the last twenty years, yet liberals seem to have lost the capacity to defend the right of their opponents to hold fast to what they believe. I remember the NT scholar, Leslie Houlden reading one of my papers, and declaring it to be wholly wrong, but he would die in the trenches to defend my right to say it.

In short, my understanding is that we did not engage with each other. There was no conversation and no common ground made. I suppose that is inevitable in terms of a yes or no question. As the Church in Wales moves forward, we need to acknowledge that there were different gospels on display; yet neither has a complete monopoly on truth. Both sides as it were locked in a wrestling match the other day, and clearly one side prevailed, the saddest part is that I do not see the victors being willing to say to those opposed to them, ‘I will not let you go until you bless me’. Nor, yet the those on the losing side willing to offer one.

The Church in Wales wakes to find itself in a place where many rejoice, and others weep, some feel included and still more abandoned. That would have been the case if there had been a different outcome. Its ability to listen deeply to each other has been called into question, and each of us have heard things that have perhaps not been said. I have heard a Bishop say that he will always put the needs, arguments, and relationships with the LGBTQI+ community over those who hold cherished evangelical beliefs within the church. I will listen and try my best not to listen to a caricature.

and to those who voted differently to me, and I could have spoken from either podium at times, I genuinely will not let you go until you bless me.

I took my boy to stay with his sister for the first time. Mixed emotions. So proud of the man he has become. My greatest achievement in life. School wasn’t for him. He has a job, friends, compassion and love

There have been times when my boy and I have not seen eye to eye. There have been times of beauty and indeed angst, times of anger, sorry, delight and happiness. There have been times when I have messed up completely (I have – I am not being down on myself). Some moments I have been inadequate, and moments when I wondered whether we would make it.

Watching him blossom and grow has been a most wonderful thing.

My boy, you are a man now – and I love you.

I graduated from Newcastle University on 28 June 1991. I was the first in the family to go to University. My parents and brother came to the graduation. My Dad was very bright, and could have gone to university had his father not passed away at a young age.

The congregation gathered for the graduation. The Chancellor said something about not clapping until everyone had been announced. My Dad did not hear him or wilfully ignored the instruction (that is where I get it from).

When my name was announced, he cheered and clapped. Of course, I was embarrassed. It was like who is he with and all that. However, now I think my Dad in that action gave a perfect image of what God is like.

My God is the kind of one that claps and cheers for all of his children. Sometimes I forget that he cheers for me, and sometimes the church creates a God who is too stern and aloof when in fact God breaks the rules to cheer on his children.

End of the lesson for today

I have been an evangelist for as long as I can remember. I am however sometimes a reluctant one. I love speaking about Jesus. It is a long time since I did any street preaching, but I enjoyed that, whether that be outside the Tower of London or near the Big Market in Newcastle or indeed outside of Rotherham Minster. I have never understood why people think evangelistic activity is offensive; after all people try to persuade us to do things that we do not necessarily want to do whether that is to buy something we do not really need or vote for a particular party. all sorts of opinions are – and should be – welcome in the public square. I suppose there are questions about this when public proclamation turns up uninvited on your doorstep. Yet, I spent over two and a half years as a shy and hesitant teenager doing just that in London and was rarely rebuffed aggressively for doing so. Cold calling might have decreased significantly, but I have lost count of the number of times callers have tried to remind me of accidents that I have not had. Indeed, as a priest whether in Birmingham or Amlwch, I have never not been given a warm welcome when I have just turned up to offer to pray for people or share a little of the story of Jesus with them.

Given that it is something that I enjoy why would it be something that I am reluctant about? Maybe I am naturally hesitant about telling people what they should do. Yet, the point of evangelism is to get to a decision isn’t it? I recall being on a mission weekend with the then Archbishops’ Missioner, Michael Green. I was asked to share my Christian story at a particular event. I did so. Afterwards, Michael simply asked why I had not asked those listening to become Christians. Similarly, when I was a curate in Gloucester, I was part of the suffragen bishop’s faith sharing team. With a couple of others, we developed some Murder Mystery events that were focused on proclaiming the faith. The Bishop asked me why I had not been more specific about those present becoming Christians. I began hesitantly to explain that my goal was to introduce people to a story, and the story would attract people. I think I still believe that to be true.

I remember talking to Ann Morrisy, urban practitioner, and community engagement specialist, about evangelism many years ago. She loves football, as do I. I remember her comparing the evangelist to the centre forward whose job is simple: to score goals. I have never seen it as clear cut as that. I create space and opportunities for the stories of God to blossom and grow. Maybe evangelism is a bit like the kingdom, it is grows initially hidden like the mustard seed, hidden like the yeast or haphazard as the seed that has been thrown by the sower.

Thoughts of an eccentric priest

Mae Sul wedi bod ail-frandio mewn rhai cylchoedd fel Diwrnod y Mamau. Mae’n ddiwrnod o flodau, cardiau, siocledi, gwin, brecwast yn y gwely, a diolchgarwch. Mae hefyd yn ddiwrnod y mae rhai dynes a dynion yn ei chael hi’n anodd am nifer o resymau. Pan oeddwn yn gurad yng Nghaerloyw, rwy’n cofio dynes yr oedd ei mab mewn oedolyn wedi marw, a oedd wedi creithio ei hatgofion o fod yn rhiant. Fel offeiriad yn Birmingham, roeddwn i’n nabod rhieni, a oedd yn ffoaduriaid, wedi gwahanu oddi wrth eu plant.. Nid oedd cerdyn nac anrheg ar y bwrdd.

Mae stori Annah ac Elkanah yn un rydyn ni’n ei deall. Mae’n stori o hiraeth a gobaith. Mae Annah eisiau plentyn. Mae’r anobaith y mae hi’n teimlo yn cael ei gamddeall gan Eli yr offeiriad. Mae Eli yn credu bod Anna yn wallgof wrth iddi annog yr ARGLWYDD am blentyn. Roedd diffyg plant yn chwithig. Roedd plant yn ffynhonnell fendith, a’r rhai heb blant wedi’u labelu’n ddi-haint. Mae angen i ni fod yn ofalus sut rydyn ni’n meiddio defnyddio geiriau. Gall ein geiriau roi gobaith neu ddod ag anobaith.

Mae gan Hannah yn ein stori blentyn. Mae hi’n rhoi ei mab i ffwrdd i fywyd yn y Deml.

Mae Cristnogion yn credu bod plant yn rhodd gan Dduw. Rwy’n dad mabwysiadol. Ni ddigwyddodd unrhyw blant i’m gwraig ac i. Roedd yn boenus. Weithiau mae’n dal i fod. O fewn yr Ysgrythurau Sanctaidd, nid oes stori am rywun sy’n gofyn am blentyn ac nad ydy derbyn un. Rwy’n bersonol yn ymgodymu â Duw ynglŷn â hyn.

Mae Samuel, a anwyd i Hannah, yn blentyn arbennig sy’n tyfu i fyny i gael galwedigaeth arbennig. Samuel yw’r bachgen y mae Duw yn siarad ag ef, ac mae Samuel yn ei glywed o. Mae Samuel yn eneinio brenhinoedd, Saul ac yna Dafydd. Mae’n broffwyd, sy’n golygu ei fod yn siarad gwirionedd â’r rhai sydd mewn grym ac yn egluro’r hyn y bydd Duw yn ei wneud.

Roedd Hannah yn dyheu amdano. Tybed beth rydyn ni’n hiraethu amdano. A meiddiwn ofyn y cwestiwn: beth mae Duw yn dyheu amdano?

Un o themâu’r Beibl, yn y Beibl Hebraeg a’r Testament Newydd yw bod Duw yn rhoi rhoddion. Mae Cristnogion yn credu mai un o’r anrhegion a roddir i’r byd ydy Iesu. Mae Iesu’n cael ei gynnig fel esiampl ac fel rhyddfrydwr, Mesias, brawd ac Arglwydd. Mae Iesu cyffwrdd a’r rhai na fyddem ni weithiau. Siaradodd mewn posau (straeon) yr oedd rhai yn ei chael yn anodd eu deall, a bod y rhai a oedd yn deall weithiau’n cael eu tramgwyddo. Roedd Iesu  chwerthin, crio, creu gobaith, a charu.

 
Yn y darn o Ioan, mae Iesu yn dal i gynnig her. Mae’n ail-greu teulu, gan sicrhau bod y fenyw a esgorodd arno yn derbyn gofal: ‘Dynes, dyma dy fab bellach’, ‘Ffrind, dyma dy fam bellach’. Hyd yn oed ar yr hyn a oedd yn edrych fel ei ddiwedd o, mae Iesu'n caru.

Mae cariad Duw tuag atom yn arbennig a bron y tu hwnt i’n dychymyg. Pan fydd Cristnogion yn ymgynnull i addoli, yn enwedig yn y Cymun Bendigaid, rydyn ni’n torri’r Ysgrythurau ar agor gan ganiatáu i’r geiriau ein herio a’n hail-lunio. Rydyn ni hefyd yn torri bara ac yn rhannu gwin. Mae calon Duw, fel y mwyafrif o rieni, yn torri dros ei blant, ac mae’n cynnig ei gariad a’i roddion inni.

Y peth yw ein bod ni’n ei golli weithiau. Pan ddaeth fy mab i fyw gyda ni. Roedd yn 4 oed. Roeddem yn cerdded gyda’n gilydd ar draeth gwyntog. Roedd geiriau’n cael eu cipio i ffwrdd. Roedd Jennifer yno hefyd, fel yr oedd ein gweithiwr cymdeithasol a oedd yn dal i gerdded ar y daith fabwysiadu gyda ni. Roedd yn rhaid i Jen ddweud, ‘Mae Shaun yn siarad efo ti’

Roedd yn dweud y gair ‘dadi’. Collais y gair, nid oherwydd y gwynt ond oherwydd nad oeddwn byth yn disgwyl iddo ei glywed. Bu bron imi ei golli. Pa roddion rydyn ni’n eu colli gan Dduw. Fel rhieni pa roddion y gallem eu colli. Fel aelodau o’r eglwys, pa roddion rydyn ni’n eu colli a pha roddion nad ydyn ni’n eu rhannu?

All things come from you – and of your own do we give you.

Mothering Sunday, which is often rebranded in some circles as Mothers’ Day can be a day of flowers, cards, chocolates, wine, breakfast in bed, and gratitude. It is also a day that some women and men struggle with for a wide variety of reasons. When I was a curate in Gloucester, I remember a woman whose adult son had died, which had scarred her memories of being a parent. As a priest in Birmingham, I spent time with parents seeking asylum separated from their children. There was no card or gift on the table.

The story of Hannah and Elkanah is one that echoes down the centuries. It is a story of longing and hope. Hannah is desperate for a child. The desperateness is misunderstood by Eli the priest as the murmurings of a madwoman or of a drunkard as she begs Yahweh for a child. Childlessness was a source of shame. Children were a source of blessing, and those without children labelled as barren. We need to be careful how we dare to use words. Words can create or deny life.

Hannah in our story becomes pregnant. She gives her son up to the life of the Temple. All things come from you and of your own do we give you. Christians believe that children are a gift from God. I am an adoptive father. Children did not happen for my wife and me. It was painful. It still is from time to time. within the Scriptures, there is no story of someone who asks for children not being granted them. I wrestle with God personally about this.

Samuel, who was born to Hannah, is a special child who grows up to have a special vocation. Samuel is the boy that God speaks to, and Samuel hears. Samuel anoints kings, Saul and then David. He is a prophet, which means he speaks truth to those in power and forthtells what God will do.

Hannah longed for him. I wonder what we long for. And dare we ask the question: what does God long for?

One of the themes of the Bible, both in the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament is that God gives gifts. Christians believe one of the gifts given to the world is Jesus Christ. Jesus is offered as both example and liberator, anointed one, brother and Lord. Jesus touched those we sometimes would not. He spoke in riddles (stories) that some struggled to understand, and those who did understand were sometimes offended. Jesus laughed, cried, created hope, and loved.

In the passage from John, Jesus still offers a challenge. He recreates family, ensuring that the woman who gave birth to him is cared for: ‘Woman, this is now your son’, ‘Friend, this is now your mother’. Even at what looked like his end, Jesus loves.

God’s love for us special and almost beyond our imagination. When Christians gather to worship, particularly at the Eucharist, we break open the Scriptures allowing the words to challenge and reshape us. We also break bread and share wine. God’s heart, like most parents, breaks over his children, and he offers us his love and gifts.

The thing is we sometimes miss it. When my son came to live with us. He was 4 years old. We were walking together on a windswept beach. Words were being snatched away. Jennifer was also there, as was the social worker who was still walking on the journey of adoption with us. Jen had to say Shaun is talking to you.

He was saying the word ‘Daddy’. I was missing the word, not because of the wind but because I had not expected it to ever be said to me. I nearly missed it. What gifts do we miss from God. As parents what gifts might we miss. As members of the church, what gifts do we miss and what gifts do we fail to share?

Darlleniad yr Hen Destament heddiw yw Eseia 57: 15-diwedd. Mae’n eistedd ochr yn ochr ag Ioan 1: 1-18 y ddarllen arall, a ddylai fod yn gyfarwydd i ni erbyn hyn.

The Old Testament reading for today is Isaiah 57:15-end. It sits alongside John 1:1-18 in the lectionary, which should be familiar to us by now.

Credir yn gyffredinol bod y proffwyd wedi bod yn ysgrifennu mewn cyfnod o alltudiaeth. Roedd y gymuned yr oedd o yn rhan ohoni wedi cael ei rhwygo allan o’u mamwlad ac wedi tynnu oddi wrth lawer o’r pethau yr oeddent yn eu hystyried yn annwyl. Dros amser, rhoddodd rhai alltudion wreiddiau yn y man lle roeddent bellach yn byw, ac roedd eraill yn dyheu am adref. Tybed pa ddull y byddech chi’n ei gymryd. Rwy’n dychmygu na fyddai’r naill na’r llall yn unfrydol o fewn ein plwyf unedig Bro Eleth.

The prophet is generally believed to have been writing in a time of exile. The community which he was part had been ripped out of their homeland and taken away from many of the things that they held dear. Over time, some exiles put down roots in the place where they were now living, and others longed for home. I wonder which approach you would take. I imagine neither would be unanimous within our united parish of Bro Eleth.

Yn y darn hwn, mae Duw yn atgoffa’r proffwyd o ddau beth penodol. Yn gyntaf, mae Duw yn sanctaidd, ac yn ail, mae Duw yn cerdded gyda’r rhai sy’n ostyngedig neu’n agored i niwed. Mae’n hawdd yn nhymor y Nadolig hwn anghofio bod Duw yn sanctaidd yn ogystal â bod gyda’r bregus. Bu temtasiwn trwy gydol hanes Cristnogol i ffafrio Duw fod y naill neu’r llall. Yn blentyn, treuliais y rhan fwyaf o fy mlynyddoedd yn addoli yn Eglwys St James a St Christopher, Shiregreen. Roedd yr adeilad, yn, hyll. Ac eto y tu mewn roedd clustog dawel neu dawelwch bob amser, lle roedd sŵn o unrhyw fath yn gwgu. Roedd fel petai Duw yn gallu byw mewn lle prin iawn yn unig. Nid oedd unrhyw beth allan o’i le. Rwy’n gwybod beth oedd y saint ffyddlon i fod i’w wneud, fe wnaeth eu helpu i addoli. Ac eto, roedd hefyd yn atal eraill yn y gymuned rhag gwneud hynny. Mae Duw yn cerdded gyda’r isel: y rhai sydd heb ddim, y rhai sydd wedi’u dispossessed.

In this passage, God reminds the prophet of two specific things. Firstly, God is holy, and secondly, God walks with those who are humble or vulnerable. It is easy in this season of Christmas to forget that God is holy as well as being with the vulnerable. There has been a temptation throughout Christian history to prefer God to be either one or the other. As a child, I spent most of my years worshipping in St James and St Christopher Church, Shiregreen. The building was, is, ugly. Yet inside there was always a quiet hush or silence, where noise of any kind was frowned upon. It was as if God could only live in a very rarefied place. Nothing was out of place. I know what the faithful saints meant to do, it helped them worship. Yet, it also prevented others in the community from doing so. God walks with the lowly: those who have nothing, the dispossessed.

Mae thema arall yn y darn hwn, mae Duw yn cuddio ei wyneb oddi wrth y rhai sy’n bechadurus. Mae hyn yn rhywbeth nad ydym ni yn y DU yn meddwl gormod amdano. Pryd oedd y tro diwethaf i chi fy nghlywed yn pregethu am bechod neu ganlyniadau anufuddhau i gyfraith Duw? Rwy’n credu y byddwch chi’n crafu’ch pennau am ychydig. Ac eto, mae’r ysgrythur bob amser yn glir ynghylch yr hyn y mae Duw yn ei gofleidio a’r hyn nad yw’n ei. Wrth i ni baratoi i ddechrau blwyddyn newydd, byddaf yn meddwl am hynny’n agos. Pwy yn ein plith a allai ddal drych dwyfol i’n bywydau a pheidio â gweld y rhyfedd braidd neu ddau?

There is another theme in this passage, God hides his face from those who are sinful. This is something we in the UK do not think too much about. When was the last time you heard me preach about sin or the consequences of disobeying God’s law? I think you will be scratching your heads for a while. Yet, scripture is always clear about what God embraces and that which he does not. As we prepare to enter a new year, I will be thinking about that closely. Who amongst us could hold up a divine mirror to our lives and not see the odd blemish or two?

Heddiw yw diwrnod gwledd yr Archesgob Thomas a Becket. Archesgob ydoedd a lofruddiwyd yn ei eglwys gadeiriol gan farchogion yn gweithredu ar ran y brenin. Mae gan weithredu’n briodol ganlyniadau. Rydyn ni’n cofio ein harchesgob a’n hesgobion yn ein gweddïau.

Today is the feast day of Archbishop Thomas a Becket. He was an archbishop who was murdered in his cathedral by knights acting on behalf of the king. Acting appropriately has consequences. We remember our archbishop and bishops in our prayers.