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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

25/6/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 26th JUNE – 3rd JULY 2022
​

On this, the last week of school, we have been celebrating Leavers Masses in St. Stephen’s and St. Mungo’s Primaries. The day before the Leavers Mass in St. Mungo’s I attended the school prizegiving, the first time it had been celebrated since 2019. It was a great affair, and I was struck by the sheer number and variety of award categories, giving a real sense of just how much goes on in a primary school in these times, as compared to when I was a lad. The curriculum lays down that class awards are to be given for the most successful learner; the most effective contributor; the most responsible citizen, and the most confident individual. There were also special category awards, one of which was given to Matthew, our altar server, for his commitment to that ministry both in the church and in school. There were also group recognition awards, one of which was to the Pope Francis’ inspired Laudato Si Group who have established a relationship with the Royal Infirmary, and who recently invited the parish to help with the make-up of caring packs to bring to people in a designated ward.
The last award of the day was The Caring Cup awarded to a Primary 7 pupil for outstanding compassion and care for others throughout the school year. What a beautiful award to get!
 
I was thinking back to prizegiving days when I was in primary school from 1956-1963 at St. Peter’s in Partick. The rewards were more predictable in those days, but I do remember a prize similar to Matthew’s because I regularly used to serve the 7 o’clock Morning Mass at St. Simon’s in Partick during weekdays, before going to school. The prize I remember most, though, was given to me for English. The prize was a hard back copy, beautifully illustrated, of Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island. I can honestly say that this prize changed my life. It was the first book that I could ever call my own, and it inspired in me a great love for reading that has remained with me down to this day. When I wrote recently in the Log about the differences between reading on a Kindle, and reading from an actual book, I think that my preference for the hand-held book must also go back to the feeling I had when I held that book in my hand for the first time, and the sheer excitement and joy I received from it.
 
I was recalling, also, my transition from primary to secondary school in the autumn of 1963. The year before, as a family, we had to move from our tenement home at Thurso Street in Partick, out west to Drumchapel. Not wanting to change schools at that stage, I commuted each day on the number 9 bus from Drumchapel, to keep attending St. Peter’s Primary. To follow in the footsteps of my late father, I had attained a bursary to continue my education at St. Mungo’s Secondary School. For the first two years I attended the St. Kentigern’s Annexe in Duke Street; then two years in Barony Street, before finally spending my 5th and 6th years in Parson Street. So began my connection with St. Mungo’s Church that would eventually lead to me becoming a Passionist. For those six secondary school years I would have to get the number 20 bus from Drumchapel into town, and then whatever bus came first that would take me from the city centre to school. Needless to say, I was often late, which meant either the belt, or else one of the more creative punishments dreamt up by a legendary head teacher in Parson Street, who shall remain nameless. However, I have absolutely no complaints, and I don’t think I am any the worse off because of it, and I am now almost obsessively punctual.
 
Back in Bishopbriggs, our student Conor is settling in while awaiting safeguarding clearance. Father John is developing his ministry, but has also taken up badminton a couple of days a week, to keep fit and lose weight. Fathers Jus, Antony and myself are well, thanks be to God.

So, as always, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

​
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father frank's log...

18/6/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 19th – 24th JUNE 2022
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Father Antony and I have just returned from meetings in the North of Ireland. During the homily at one of the Masses, the priest was recalling how, when he was a Passionist postulant in the 1970’s, the director of the postulants would cast them out in the summer and tell them to go and find work, before returning in the autumn. He had gone to work in some kind of factory where they made pallets, but he only lasted three days because his hands were too soft and quickly became blistered and very sore. This priest was three years ahead of me, but we had the same director of postulants, and so it brought back memories of my own class also being cast out in the summer to find work.
 
I have spoken about one of those summers before, when I went to work in a homeless project in Leeds, the abiding memory of which was scouring the back streets of Leeds with a fellow Partick man, trying to find his false teeth so that he could wear them in court the next day. Another summer I worked as a volunteer, supervising young lads who were doing community service, painting and decorating parts of a convent. I don’t know how good a supervisor I was, but I can honestly admit that I was a useless painter and decorator. I ended up scouring the streets again, this time in Paisley, after one of the lads disappeared and took the convent dog with him. Both the boy and the dog were discovered safe and well. The next summer I took a job in a pub in Partick. My mother was quite a legendary barmaid there, one of the many jobs she held down to provide for us after my father’s death, and her boss was well willing to let me work there. I had a crash course in pulling pints, changing beer barrels and pouring spirits. I learned the technique that was used for washing and draining the glasses. I had no difficulty with adding up the prices as I was always good at mental arithmetic, and I became a dab hand at clearing and wiping the tables. It was hard work, though, and I came to appreciate how my mother would come home exhausted on her working nights, during the years we were growing up, then falling into bed to be up early next day to do cleaning in schools and houses. She loved working in the pub, though, as it was her social life as well, alongside the Bingo on her free nights. I can remember, during the period I worked in the pub, how welcome the short break was, when we would go down into the cellar with a half pint glass of tea and a sandwich, then try to summon the energy to go upstairs and start again. After closing time, we would do a big clean up, before my mother and I would head for the last bus from Partick to Drumchapel. I knew that, compared to her, I had an easy life training to be a priest. My last year of postulancy, before starting my novitiate, was the year that Pope John Paul II came to Ireland, so I didn’t need to find work. There was plenty enough to do in preparation for the papal visit and, as I was to be part of the choir for the Mass in the Phoenix Park, I had to attend lots of practices for that. Once we started novitiate, at the end of which I would become a professed Passionist, summers became somewhat different.
 
Our meetings went well. It was a joint assembly with our Passionist brethren from England. There was a very good spirit with excellent discussions and conversations, and then fraternal socialising each night. Father Antony and I had a passenger with us on the way back, as I mentioned in the last log. He is our Theology student, Conor Quinn, who will be spending the next six weeks or so with us before taking his final vows. On such occasions I always leave the driving to Father Antony. He is safe, but fast, and I do close my eyes at times on that bendy coastal road, and say a few extra Hail Mary’s, or ejaculations to the Sacred Heart, when he decides to overtake a massive truck. Father John seems to have survived on his own for all the Masses and Confessions, the church is still standing, as is Father Jus, so all is well.

So, as always, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's Log...

11/6/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 12th – 19th JUNE 2022

I recently received an email from Amazon, informing me that, from this coming August, I would no longer be able to purchase books on the Kindle that I have been using since 2011. I had never really wanted a Kindle, preferring to have an actual book to hold in my hand, to turn the pages with my own fingers, to place a nice bookmarker between the leaves, and to place the book on the shelf of my bookcase. However, on my 60th birthday, the Kindle was kindly gifted to me by some parishioners at Mount Argus in Dublin, where I was based at the time. It was presented to me at a “surprise” 60th birthday party in what we referred to as the upper room. This was a large and beautiful room adjacent to the church, on the top floor of the old monastery that has, at various times, been the Passionist Community Chapel (the chapel in which Saint Charles of Mount Argus celebrated his final Mass before his death in 1893); and later the Chapter Room, before becoming a parish meeting room. It was a night of good food and song, and while in many ways it was my worst nightmare, being averse to big social gatherings, especially with me as the centre of attention, still it was a very humbling occasion of good will and great generosity, that I deeply appreciated.
 
In time, I got to appreciate the advantages of the Kindle. I could carry the Divine Office; the Daily Mass Readings; a bible; books for spiritual reading; novels for more relaxed reading, volumes by my favourite poets (George McKay Brown; R.S. Thomas; Mary Oliver & Roger McGough, to name but a few); and all kinds of other reading materials, all in this one little contraption. I could even adjust the print size to suit my poor eyesight, and so, I eventually had to eat humble pie and acknowledge how helpful the Kindle was, especially for travel. It would never replace a real book in my affections; nor would browsing their online store ever replace browsing in a book shop and perhaps sitting down with a coffee to flick through a new purchase, anticipating the joy of going home to begin reading it, and I must confess, the more I see book shops closing, the more guilty I feel about buying books online.
 
In anyways, from this coming August my old Kindle will have very limited use. I will still be able to read the books I have downloaded on to it, but I won’t be able to purchase anything new. Fortunately, I was kindly given a new Kindle for my 70th birthday last June. Until now, I hadn’t used it very much, but now I am paving the way for it to be my default reader. The first thing I had to do was get a smart cover for it, which I ended up having to order from Amazon. I hate ordering stuff from Amazon because they are always trying to lure you into taking a 30-day free trial for Amazon Prime before you complete the purchase, and which then evolves into a complicated process to try and cancel it. I know, because I have made this mistake before. If you have a magnifying glass, you can find a line that lets you continue the purchase without Amazon Prime, and so, I have discovered now to patiently look for that. At my first attempt I discovered I had ordered the wrong size of cover, so I entered into another process of returning the item and getting a refund; and ordering the right size. This, I have now accomplished, and my new Kindle is smaller, neater, and even easier to negotiate than the old one and, to be fair, their system of delivery was extremely efficient.
 
Back at the ranch, we have been hosting a priest from India in whose parish Fr John served as a deacon before ordination. On his first day he rode the Glasgow tour bus; then he went off on a 3-day bus tour of Scotland, spending 2 nights on the Isle of Skye. He thoroughly enjoyed it; got great weather, and says that there wasn’t a midge in site, or bite. How lucky can you get? He has now gone to spend a couple of days in Dublin before returning to India. Everybody else is fine. Father Antony and myself will be heading to Ireland next week, from Monday to Thursday, for meetings, and so Father John will be holding the fort all on his own.

So, as always, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

3/6/2022

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 5th – 12th JUNE 2022
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As you may be aware, one of my favourite places to go in Glasgow is the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum in Kelvingrove Park. I was born only a stone’s throw away in Partick Bridge Street, and grew up even nearer to the park in Thurso Street. Every Sunday we went to the park to play, and we never left without a visit to the art gallery, to see Salvador Dali’s Christ of St. John of the Cross; also, to the museum, to see Sir Roger the Elephant, the suits of armour, and all kinds of other delights. Nowadays I still visit the Dali, but also many other favourite paintings, among them La Faruk Madonna - three religious paintings made by a prisoner-of-war on old flour bags, for a mud chapel. I also like to visit the Mackintosh and the Glasgow Style gallery, and anything new that catches my eye as I walk around.
 
I was there last week with a visitor, and one of my reasons for going was a curiosity to see an exhibition of photographs of Glasgow from the 1950’s to the 1990’s by a photographer called Eric Watt. The photographs were mainly taken on the streets, capturing images of people in different parts of the city, and especially of children at play in streets and parks. Having been born in 1951, I imagined that many of the depictions would strike a nostalgic chord with me, and I was right, the images took me right back to my childhood and early years growing up. The photographs were categorized into various themes and I noticed how the people who had hung the display had been careful to strike a balance, so as not to offend either side of the sad Glasgow divide. For example, in the section on Faith, the first photograph was of a young girl making her First Holy Communion. The balancing photograph beside it was taken at an Orange Walk. I would have thought there could have been something more appropriate from the practice of the other Christian faiths to strike a balance, and that the Orange Walk might have been better in some other section. It’s hardly comparable with the Holy Eucharist, is it?  In another section, which was either Sport or Leisure, I can’t remember exactly, there was a photograph of two Celtic supporters joyfully celebrating, and the balancing photograph below it was of Rangers supporters boarding the Govan Ferry at Partick to head over to Ibrox for a match, all men, all wearing shirt and tie, as was the way of things then. I was first drawn to this photograph because I couldn’t even begin to count the number of times, as a family, we boarded that same ferry to head over to see my dad’s family, who lived in Govan. But then I realized that the photograph was taken on 2nd of January 1971, the date of the terrible Ibrox Disaster, when 66 people lost their lives in a crush. When I looked at the photograph again, it was to wonder if any of those men boarding the ferry were among the 66. Such tragedies transcend rivalries. There were many other brilliant, funny, and evocative photographs, and I would recommend a visit. I think it runs until October. Just tell them who sent you, and tell them to send me the commission. We also went to the Burrell Collection, re-opened after a five-year closure for renovations and expansion. It was a long time, but well worth it.
 
Father John is settling into his ministry again, and in mid-June we will welcome yet another Passionist who will be new to you, Brother Conor Quinn, who will spend around six weeks with us until the end of July. Conor is from Newtownhamilton in Newry, County Down. He has been with us for a number of years now and, for the past few years, has been studying Theology in Chicago. He is coming home to profess his final vows in Holy Cross, Ardoyne, and St. Mungo’s has been asked by our Provincial to welcome him for a pastoral placement in the lead up to that. After final vows, Conor will return to Chicago to complete his studies and to be ordained a deacon. Sometime within the next year or two we hope Conor will be ordained as a Passionist priest and, who knows, perhaps even return to St. Mungo’s again.
​
So, as always, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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    FATHER FRANK KEEVINS C.P.

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