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  PassionistsGlasgow

February 26th, 2022

26/2/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 20th – 27th FEBRUARY 2022
​

I am writing the Log a day later than usual this week, as myself and Father Antony have just returned from meetings in our Passionist Retreat Centre at Crossgar in County Down. There were two days of meetings. The first was with the members of our various communities who are fit and able enough to travel. The intention was to review our lives and ministries since our Chapter last year, and to plan next steps forward in implementing the desired actions that we drew up at that Chapter. Myself and Father Antony were grateful to Father Frank Trias for sacrificing his presence at the meeting to look after things in St. Mungo’s for those few days, and to keep Father Justinian company as well. By the sounds of it, they enjoyed a great time together, and Father Justinian might be disappointed that we came back. We were delighted to meet up with Father Gareth at the meeting. He is just the same as ever, and couldn’t wait to remind us that Wales beat Scotland at rugby a couple of weeks back. He is doing well. As ever, for me, meeting up with the men was just as important as the content of the meetings.
 
Most of the men went home to their own communities after that first day. Myself and Father Antony had to stay on for the second day when a smaller group of us, those in key leadership roles, had to meet with some members of our Passionist Province in England and Wales, known as St. Joseph’s Province. Until 1927 we were all one province, known as the Anglo-Hibernian Province, but then, when numbers increased, it was decided to form two provinces, and so, there was formed the provinces of St. Joseph and St. Patrick.  Now, almost a hundred years later, when numbers have become much smaller, we are on a journey to explore closer links, and who knows where that might lead? But, once again, it was good to meet fraternally and to chat. Having spent some time living in St. Joseph’s Province when I was the novice master for the Passionists in North Europe, it was, for me, a very pleasing encounter.
 
On the morning of that second day, we woke up to a war, with Russia having invaded Ukraine, and who knows where that might lead to as well? These are quite frightening times. We Passionists have a small community in Ukraine, under the jurisdiction of the Passionists in Poland.  There are three Ukrainian and one Polish Passionist, ministering in the town of Smotrych, and surrounding areas in Western Ukraine. The Polish Provincial is in constant contact with them via the internet, as the telephones are not working. He has communicated how serious the situation is for everyone, and our monastery in Smotrych is getting ready to accept refugees from Eastern Ukraine. He is asking us to pray for Ukraine, for the cessation of hostilities, and for lasting peace in a region so badly affected by many decades of wars and occupation. We will do that of course, and we invite you to join us in that prayer.
 
Also, on that second day, on a much lighter note, we woke up to snow. As the day went on the snow disappeared, so we had no concerns about the journey home. However, once we had disembarked the ferry at Cairnryan, around 10.00 p.m., we discovered that on some sections of the road back to Glasgow there was an aftermath of snow from earlier in the day. This was particularly bad around Girvan and, of course, the infamous Fenwick Moor. While this was a source of concern to me, it was a source of absolute delight to Father Antony who truly loves driving in snow, ice, blizzards, hailstones, and whatever else presents a challenge. On those parts of the journey, I just closed my eyes and put my foot through those imaginary brakes on the floor, when he decided to overtake massive lorries and trucks. I was thinking of Father Lawrence, God rest him, who would have made numerous cries of panic in such a situation. In truth, I had every confidence in Father Antony, and we arrived home safely at midnight.


As ever, protect yourselves, your loved ones, and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

18/2/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 13th – 20th FEBRUARY 2022
​

I was amused by the item on the news the other day, serious though it was, that, after water sprinklers had failed to do the job, the authorities in New Zealand were using 15 minutes of Barry Manilow music on a loop to try and disperse anti-vaccine protestors. Poor Barry. I was never a big fan but I thought he had a few decent songs, and I could think of worse music I could choose – heavy metal, for example. Without a doubt, Black Sabbath and Iron Maden on a loop would get rid of me in seconds. Also, until recently, Father Gareth singing loudly in the shower through the wall from me, especially after a Welsh rugby victory, would have had me heading out for a long walk until he was finished.
 
It reminded me of the story of the Church of Scotland minister; the Episcopalian presbyter, and the Catholic priest, discussing their mutual problem of pigeons in the church loft, and how to disperse them. The Church of Scotland minister said he had tried everything – noise, sprays, cats – but nothing seemed to shift them. The Episcopalian presbyter said he had paid dearly for the attic to be fumigated, but they still didn’t go away. The Catholic priest then said that, while he had suffered from that problem some time back, he simply Baptized and Confirmed the pigeons, and they hadn’t been seen since.
 
Sadly, there is more than just a grain of truth in that story. Last December we celebrated the Sacrament of Confirmation in St. Mungo’s and, at this present time, we are having our God Squad sessions in preparation for 1st Reconciliation next week, and then, that will be closely followed by God Squad sessions in preparation for 1st Holy Communion. They were, and are all lovely children, great to work with, full of joy to be making another step on their journey of faith, and, we can only hope and pray that, going forward, we will see them coming to the church regularly with their families, and being a vital part of our parish family of faith.
 
As you may have picked up from previous Logs, every Friday night in Bishopbriggs, for the Passionist community, is takeaway night. With liturgical precision, we generally follow a three-week cycle of Chinese, Indian, and Fish and Chips. However, I am beginning to wonder if I should give up on the Indian food. A couple of weeks ago, I told you the story of how, just after our Indian take-away, I took a mad notion to reorganize the furniture in my room. The update on that is that, while at the time of writing, I only had two drawers sticking out that I couldn’t get to fit back properly, I now, in my attempts to remedy the situation, have four drawers sticking out. It’s not so bad if I keep my eyes above a certain height and don’t look at them. And then, last Friday, as we cleared up after our Indian meal, I took the empty packaging out to the bins in the yard. I threw up the lid of the bin but then, before I had the chance to disperse my load, a gust of wind caught the lid and brought it back down on my forehead. It meant that I was celebrating the weekend Masses with an open wound on my forehead. I was tempted to say that Father Antony had given me a Glasgow kiss, but then I owned up to my fight with the wheely bin, and the wheely bin won. To be fair, though, the wheely bin is bigger than me. But it does seem that I do daft things after an Indian meal.
 
Apart from that we are all fine. With Father Antony and myself both away for meetings next week, Father Frank Trias will look after the place for a few days, and so we welcome him and thank him for helping us out. Father Justinian continues to keep remarkably well as the oldest man in our Passionist Province of St. Patrick. Father John’s arrival is getting nearer.


As ever,
protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, protect others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

12/2/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 6th – 13th FEBRUARY 2022
​

Just a few weeks after my walk down to the cathedral for Archbishop Tartaglia’s Anniversary Mass, it was very encouraging to be walking down, and gathering with fellow priests once again, in order to welcome our Archbishop-elect, Bishop William Nolan, to the diocese. The announcement came somewhat out of the blue at mid-day last Friday. Here in St. Mungo’s, we are claiming special insight from the Holy Spirit as, by divine providence (I don’t believe in coincidence), we have Bishop Nolan on the front of our parish calendar for 2022. It goes back to last November when some of our Passionist Young Team, along with Father Antony, went to participate in the Cop26 march from Kelvingrove Park to Glasgow Green, gathering under our new parish banner. Before the walk began, Bishop Nolan noticed the banner and came over to talk to the group. A photograph was taken while he was in conversation with Deacon Joe. Without even realizing it was Bishop Nolan, I included the photo as one of two images for our calendar. It was only after the announcement came that Father Antony told me who it was. It was Father Antony, also, who had a previous encounter with Bishop Nolan, when he brought the late Father Lawrence with him to a Justice & Peace meeting in Carfin a couple of years back. Father Lawrence was very unwell at that time, but was keen to go, and Father Antony remembers well the time that Bishop Nolan took to sit and talk with Father Lawrence, and was impressed by his kindness. Apart from that, I have encountered Bishop Nolan only on Zoom meetings, and have always found him personable and prayerful.
 
As we arrived at the cathedral, Bishop Nolan was waiting to greet us individually in the porch. After the Mid-day Prayer of the Church, Monsignor Bradley, who has carried the diocese well this past year, spoke a few words of welcome. Then, after Exposition and Benediction, the Archbishop-elect spoke briefly as well. The main thrust of his message, using the image of a boat, was that bishop and priests need to work together and that, to accomplish anything, and get anywhere, we all need to be steering in the same direction. Amen to that! Afterwards, we gathered in Eyre Hall for tea, sausage rolls, sandwiches and cakes, during which Bishop Nolan made his way around and chatted to the various small groupings of his new band of priests. It was very friendly and informal, and good to be there.
 
Just before I arrived at the cathedral, I had a chance meeting with one of the administrative staff for the archdiocese, someone who had been incredibly helpful and supportive when we were doing the refurbishment work a couple of years ago. It was a long time since we had met, and he was telling me he was soon to go into hospital for a hip replacement, after a long time on the waiting list. He is one of a few people I know who have been waiting a long time for such operations. I also know someone, however, who had a fall two Saturdays ago, had a new hip by the following Tuesday, and was home two days later, on the Thursday, and is now happily co-operating with the physiotherapists to get walking again. Be assured, however, that I am not advocating a fall in order to speed anyone’s way through the waiting list.
 
Back at Bishopbriggs, we are all well. Father Justinian enjoyed a few days away at the house of his brother and sister-in-law on the west coast. Unfortunately, it coincided with some of the recent stormy days which meant that intended jaunts along the sea front, pushed in his wheel chair by one of his nieces, had to be forfeited. We think we are getting much nearer to welcoming Father John Varghese to St. Mungo’s, and we are looking forward to that. Father Antony is soon to begin, officially, his part-time ministry with Stella Maris, while I plod on.
 
As ever, protect yourselves, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

5/2/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 30th JANUARY – 6th FEBRUARY 2022

This morning (Thursday) I was at the chiropodist. I had been fortunate enough to get a late cancellation as I was obliged to cancel my scheduled appointment yesterday, because I had to conduct a funeral. After the Requiem Mass I had opted to take my own car to the cemetery, as my parents are buried there, and I always like to visit their grave when the opportunity arises. Before setting off, the undertaker advised me that we would be going in by a different gate than usual. So, we agreed that whoever got there first would wait for the other inside the gate. I arrived first and pulled my car into the side verge to await the hearse. It seemed to be taking a very long time and I began to wonder if I was in the right place. Then a hearse did arrive and I tucked in behind it. Only then did I notice that the flower arrangements in the back said “daddy” and “uncle”. As I had just conducted a Requiem Mass for a lady, I realised I had made a mistake, and had to take a path off to the side and make my way back to the gate. I wasn’t long there when another hearse arrived. This must be it now, I thought, and so I tucked in behind the hearse again. This time the driver took a turn into one of the cremation chapels, and, as I was there for a burial, I realized I had got it wrong again. Back I went to the gate. It was still quite a while before another hearse arrived and I thought it must surely be third time lucky, and so it was, the right hearse, the right funeral, and a great sigh of relief. I still have no idea why it took them so long, but I thought it prudent not to say anything.
 
As I was leaving the cemetery, I had a phone call from the chiropodist’s receptionist advising me of the afore mentioned cancellation, and asking did I want to avail of it today. In the course of the conversation, she asked me if I was going to be watching the big match that night. I said, truthfully, that I didn’t like watching Old Firm matches and that I would most likely go for a long walk instead. She told me that her son was coming to watch it at her house, but that they were for “the other side” and “may the best team win”. She is a very nice lady, so I just left it at that. True to my word, after tea with Father Justinian, I donned my walking clothes and headed out the door just as the game was kicking off. I turned my phone off and started walking. I was keeping to well-lit areas just to be safe, and there didn’t seem to be another soul on the street. Only once was I distracted, when I passed a house out of which there came a great roar. That’s when my imagination went rampant. What was the roar for? What had happened in the match? What footballing allegiance did the people in that household have? I quickly passed by and continued my walk. My timing was almost perfect, as I was turning into our estate just as the match was drawing to a close. I turned my phone back on and risked a peek. I could hardly believe my eyes; we were three goals to the good.
 
I made it into the house just as the final whistle blew and turned on the radio to listen to the post-match analysis and interviews. I listened first to Radio Scotland, and then switched to Radio Clyde which, unusually, was continuing coverage until 11 p.m. Needless to say, my older brother, the doyen of Scottish Sport’s journalists, was at the heart of it. This would be past his bedtime, I thought, and he apparently was eating pesto pasta as he gave his opinion.  I’m not sure if there is any significance in that pesto pasta is green and white. I suppose not, seeing that he is meant to be totally neutral, unlike back-in-the-day when we used to get the Auchenshuggle tram from Partick Cross to Celtic Park for every home game. By then, Father Antony had arrived back from the Passionist Young Team, full of the joys, and we settled down to watch, and thoroughly enjoy, the highlights on BBC Scotland at 11.05 p.m. All in all, it turned out to be a good night, and I thoroughly relished relaxing and getting my feet done this morning. And, do you know what? In the end, the best team did win.
 
As ever, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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    FATHER FRANK KEEVINS C.P.

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