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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

25/5/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 26th MAY – 2nd JUNE 2024
​
Last Sunday I celebrated the 1st Holy Communion Mass in St Mungo’s. The previous Saturday I celebrated the 1st Holy Communion Mass in St Roch’s. While there is always a certain amount of chaos around these Masses, both were lovely occasions, and I appreciated the work of those who had helped prepare the children, whether at home, at school, or in church, to ensure that the celebrations would go well. Also last Sunday, my grand-nephew was celebrating his 1st Holy Communion. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get to the Mass, as I had been able to do for his brother a couple of years previously, but I was able to join the family afterwards for the final hour of the party, and it was good to see them all and have a good catch-up. There were, apparently, 42 children in my grand-nephew’s group in an outlying part of the city. However, between the two sets of Holy Communions that I celebrated, involving three schools – St Roch’s, St Mungo’s and St Martin’s – there were only 25 children, which has a lot to do with the demographic in this part of the city, and I believe that next year the numbers will be significantly fewer. I don’t usually get into the numbers game, but I have been conscious this week of the results of the 2022 census being released, and the decline in the number of people, including Catholics, who consider themselves as being religious. For the first time, less than half of Scotland considers itself as having any kind of religion. So, who knows how this is all going to play out in the years ahead. All we can do is keep the faith, live the faith, and spread the faith as best we can, and leave the rest to God.

I have recently, on a few occasions, spent the night in St Roch’s presbytery. It’s not nearly ready yet for moving into, and there’s a fair bit of a journey to go yet until it becomes the new residence for the Passionists. The reason for my occupancy was that the house, church and hall were due to get an electrical and gas inspection, and on each occasion the contractors were going to be coming early in the morning. So, rather than having to travel in from Bishopbriggs in the early morning traffic, I brought down a few things, did a bit of basic food shopping, and made up a bed, in what will mostly likely be my own room once the renovations are done, and was well prepared to be on site for the workers’ dawn arrival. It gave me a feel for what it might be like living there, and it was fine. One noticeable difference, though, was the sound of traffic travelling along the Royston Road. In Bishopbriggs the only sounds we tend to hear are the twittering of birds in the wooded area out back, and the croaking of a rare breed of frogs that inhabits the pond just beyond my bedroom window. However, having been raised in Partick and Drumchapel, the sound of traffic is something that am well used to, and I find it easy to settle into the rhythm of the cars as being almost like a prayer mantra.

Next weekend I will be heading down to Selly Park in Birmingham to celebrate the Golden Jubilee Mass of a sister who used to be part of the retreat team in Minsteracres when I was novice master there back in the early 1990’s. I am looking forward to seeing a few of the sisters there whom I worked with during that time, having retained a great affection for them, and great memories of what they brought to Minsteracres during that period. I haven’t in fact seen them since 2010, when I was invited over from Dublin to give a retreat to the big, but mostly elderly community. I remember that when the retreat was over, I wasn’t able to fly back to Dublin, because a volcano had erupted in Iceland, sending an ash cloud into the air and halting air traffic throughout Europe. I stayed on a couple of days, indulged in a bit of city sightseeing in Birmingham, took a train up to Glasgow to visit the family, and then made my way back to Dublin by bus, ferry and train. Hopefully, there will be no such dramas next weekend. I didn’t fancy the drive, the train was too expensive, and so I am going by bus.

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

18/5/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 19th – 26th MAY 2024

Brother Conor had a visitor last weekend. He had come over from Ireland, primarily to see Conor, and to meet the rest of us in the community, but also, if at all possible, to take in the Celtic v Rangers match at Parkhead. When this was first mooted, we felt it might be impossible to get tickets for such a crunch game, but thanks to the kindness and resourcefulness of people in the parish, we managed to secure two good tickets for them.

Such is our situation in Bishopbriggs, that we weren’t able to offer the poor man a room, and instead had to concoct a makeshift bed on the floor of our sitting room. However, being a very fit, outdoor kind of guy, this was no problem to him whatsoever. It reminded me of a few years ago, at the time St Mungo’s church was being refurbished, and the new floor put in, and we had an unexpected visit from an Australian Passionist whom I had studied with in Rome. Having a full house at that time, he also ended up on the sitting room floor. However, this was a guy who ran marathons and climbed mountains for fun, so he simply took it in his stride as if, as the song goes, he was camped by a billabong under the shade of a Coolabah tree. The last time I slept on a floor myself, was when I was stranded during the big snows a few years back and couldn’t get the car out of the church yard. I had to spend a few nights on the floor of the office in St Mungo’s. I still remember the few stalwarts who trudged through the very deep snow to be there for the Mass each day. Very mad, but also very commendable. The floor was okay but, at my age, I still prefer to be in my own room, and in my own bed.

Brother Conor and his visitor were blessed with unbelievably good weather, and on the Friday before the match they headed for some of the beauty spots around Loch Lomond, taking in the sights, and listening to a piper playing on the banks of the loch at the Cameron House Hotel. They returned that night, very tired, but having enjoyed a beautiful day. The next morning all the focus was on the match, which had an early kick-off time. I didn’t really see them before they left, as I had First Holy Communions in St Roch’s that morning. The Mass was scheduled to start at 11 o’clock, and I lost count of the number of people who asked me beforehand how long the Mass was going to last. No need to worry, we finished in plenty of time, after which I headed to Drumchapel to do my caring duties, and to try and keep my mind off the match, as I get far too tense about it, even in my old age. My biggest concern was that my older brother, the doyen of Scottish Sports Journalists, had, on Radio Clyde’s Super Scoreboard, predicted a 2-1 victory for Celtic. Surely there couldn’t be a worse omen than that? As it was, while we were having our dinner, I watched a crime drama with my younger brother, who wasn’t even aware there was a match on. Then, just as I was about to anxiously check the score at the end of the match, I had a text from Father Gareth saying well done and I knew that the victory was ours, and, amazingly, by 2-1. I headed back to St Roch’s to celebrate the Vigil Mass, where there was a celebratory atmosphere in the church, even though some regulars were missing, who were no doubt still celebrating elsewhere.

Returning to Bishopbriggs after Mass I was able to greet Brother Conor and his visitor, who was delighted with the whole experience, and with the win, something he will always remember. His intention was to leave early next morning as he was going to the Ulster Gaelic Football Final between Donegal and Armagh, obviously hoping that Armagh would win. He had even worn his Armagh jersey to the Celtic v Rangers match. As the Armagh jersey is orange it got him a few strange, and perhaps antagonistic looks at first, until the surrounding supporters realised what he was wearing. He was then subjected to some slagging from a crowd who had come over from Donegal for the match as well. The only blemish on his weekend was that, on the Sunday, Donegal beat Armagh on penalties. Nothing is perfect!

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

11/5/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 12th – 19th MAY 2024

Last week, prompted by my reading of Life, Pope Francis’ book in which he reflects on his life through different, significant moments in history that he has lived through, I looked back on some memories of my own, around the same or similar events. After completing that Log, I felt that there was unfinished business, and so this week I have chosen two more such events that the pope reflects on, to recall my own experiences, and then I will leave it at that.

The first was the great economic crisis of 2008. I was rector and parish priest of Mount Argus in Dublin at that time. For the few years prior to this, we had been tentatively moving towards the very painful and difficult decision to leave the old monastery and move into a new, custom-built monastery, on the same grounds, that would be more suited to our declining numbers, enable us to give greater care to our frail and elderly members, and be less of a financial drain on our province resources. The intention was to sell the old monastery, together with our front field, the estimated proceeds of which would enable us to build the new monastery, give the province greater financial security going forward, provide a new pastoral centre for the parish and local community, and support Passionist projects in other, poorer parts of the world, such as Africa and Asia. We could have moved more quickly on it, but we felt it was important to have an ongoing dialogue with the Passionist community, the parish, and the local residents, so as to reach a point of relative peace and acceptance, despite the great sadness surrounding the move from a monastery where the Passionists had lived for the best part of 150 years, and where Father Charles of Mount Argus, canonized a saint in 2007, had also lived. Had we moved more quickly, when the economy was much more buoyant, the proceeds would have helped us to meet all those good intentions. As it turned out, the economic crisis came just about the time the bids were coming in for the sale. Had this been a few weeks before, we would have realized a much greater price. Had it been a few weeks later, we probably wouldn’t have been able to make the sale at all. As it was, we accepted a bid, but had to curtail those good intentions, and be more modest with our plans. Just before Christmas, in 2009, we moved into a beautiful new monastery and, most importantly, Passionist life and ministry continued at Mount Argus, and still continues to this day. The pastoral centre, named after St Charles, has opened as well.

The second event was the Covid-19 epidemic. I remember we were scheduled to have Confirmations in St Mungo’s on 19th March 2020. The preparations had all been made. Archbishop Tartaglia was coming to administer the Sacrament. But then came word that all churches were to close after the morning Masses on that same day, and so the Confirmations had to be cancelled. A couple of days before this, on St Patrick’s Day, Father Lawrence, a much-loved member of our Passionist community, who had been living with Cancer for the previous 2 years, was admitted to the Marie Curie, and he died on the morning of 18th March. His funeral, which I have no doubt would have been massive, was carried out in a closed church with a handful of people, followed by a burial in our Passionist plot at St. Kentigern’s. Even then, we didn’t realise how long the Covid-19 crisis would drag on for. Protocols were put in place. The church was at various times either closed all together, able to have 20 people for Mass, or able to have 50 people for Mass. A booking system was put in place. Wonderful volunteers came forward to help with the admission of people to the church and to do the constant, deep cleaning after every service. At times they, and I, had to endure unfair flak from some Covid deniers, for simply doing our best to apply the rules that we were told were necessary to keep people safe. Eventually, while we know that Covid hasn’t completely gone away, we would, by the grace of God, return to some kind of normality. The End.

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

4/5/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 5th – 12th MARCH 2024
​

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been reading Life, Pope Francis’ book in which he reflects on his life through different, significant moments in history that he has lived through, and so, needless to say, it got me thinking along those lines as well. His early memories, such as the outbreak of World War II, precede my own, but I would imagine my earliest memory of a significant world event was the assassination of John F Kennedy on 22nd November 1963. It was a Friday, I was 12 years old, and I was at home looking after my younger brother. My mother was out at work at the Downhill Bar in Partick. My older brother was out with friends. I remember we switched the television on to watch Cannon, an American detective series that we liked, but we were puzzled to discover that the screen was blank. It was a while before we learned that broadcasts had been suspended as a mark of respect for the murdered president. Nowadays, of course, there would be saturation coverage on every channel. We were too young to take in the full significance, but we could sense that something seismic had occurred. Of course, being a Catholic family with Irish roots, JFK was a household name, and somehow the sadness and loss of it all seemed as real as if he had been a family member. My father had died three years previously, and this seemed almost as significant.

Most of Pope Francis’ recollections are around serious episodes in history, however, being a big football fan, he includes the famous Hand of God goal scored by Maradona against England in the 1986 World Cup Quarter Final in Mexico City. My equivalent memory can only be the Stevie Chalmers goal to clinch the European Cup for Celtic on 25th May 1967. I was, ever the introvert, watching the game on my own at home in Drumchapel. My younger brother had no interest in football, my mother was too nervous to watch, and my older brother was at a cousin’s house in Partick watching it with a gang of family and friends. I remember when the final whistle went, and the celebrations began, I just didn’t want to be on my own any more, and so I left the house and took the bus into Partick to join the others. For one night only, I would be an extrovert. It was magical, and a night that will live with me forever.

Another of Pope Francis’ recollections was around 9/11. In January of that year, 2001, I had transferred to Dublin as rector and parish priest of Mount Argus. In May of that year, on the Feast of the Ascension, my mother had died, suddenly and unexpectedly, and I had travelled home to Glasgow to conduct her funeral at St Laurence’s in Drumchapel, another experience I can never forget. Mount Argus housed many frail and elderly Passionists, and we had a wonderful, full-time nurse, who was in charge of their care. Each week we would meet and review how they were doing. It was a Tuesday, and we had arranged to meet after she had seen them all safely to their rooms for a repose after lunch. While I was waiting for her, I switched on the television and, like most people, I didn’t quite know if I was watching fact or fiction. It must have been only a minute or so after I switched on, that I saw the second plane hijacked by terrorists, crash into the second of the twin towers of the World Trade Centre, and realised with horror that this was very real indeed. Three days later, 14th September, was the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, and it had been declared a National Day of Mourning in Ireland. As Mount Argus was a church very much associated with the Irish Police, the Garda Siochana, I was asked to celebrate a Mass to commemorate all those in the emergency services who had given their lives on that fateful day in New York. I doubt if the church was ever so full, inside and out. Police Officers; the Fire Department; the Ambulance Service, they were all there. Again, another, poignant occasion that will live with me forever. I could go on, perhaps another time, with other memories, but I will leave it there for now.

As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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    FATHER FRANK KEEVINS C.P.

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