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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

27/6/2024

2 Comments

 
FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 30th JUNE – 7th JULY 2024

The last few days have been dominated by end of term/leavers Masses in our three primary schools, as well as shows, prizegiving, and presentation ceremonies. Each school had its own unique approach to the celebrations and thankfully all went well. I have great admiration for the commitment and dedication of the teachers and staff of these schools, in what is not an easy task these days, and I could see how they were all very much ready for a break. I hope that they are able to relax, enjoy it, and come back refreshed. Having two nieces who are primary school teachers, I know that every day of their holidays has been very hard-earned.

In the background of course, the Euros have been taking place and sadly, as I write, Scotland have already come home. No sir, we can’t boogie! At least the team has come home, it may yet take a while for some of the supporters to come home, and some may never come home, if tales of Lisbon 1967 and Seville 2003 are to be believed. In our estate in Bishopbriggs, we must be considered very boring neighbours. At times like Christmas and Halloween, the houses and gardens in the estate, especially those with children, are magnificently decorated, including our nearest neighbours, while we take a rather minimalist approach. It was the same with the Euros, with Saltires and Lions Rampant in abundance, except for us. I suppose, with a Welshman, an Indian, and an Irishman in the community, and only two Scots, there wasn’t universal interest and excitement. On the opening day of the Euros, we had our Friday take-away early, and then settled down to watch the Scotland v Germany game. By the time the second half started the rest of the community had disappeared to bed, and I was left sitting on my own to feel the pain. The late Father Lawrence’s measure of a real Celtic supporter was whether or not you felt real pain in defeat. By that measure I must have proved myself a real Scotland supporter that night. I also suffered real pain through the next two games until the final humiliation of a last-second goal conceded to Hungary proved terminal. The following night, driving home to Bishopbriggs from my younger brother’s house in Drumchapel, I was listening to Superscoreboard on Radio Clyde, where my older brother, the doyen of Scottish sports journalists, was one of the pundits. The presenter, tongue in cheek, introduced him to the accompaniment of the Darth Vader theme from the Star Wars movies, suggesting that my brother had been some kind of harbinger of death for predicting the kind of outcome that in fact turned out to be the case. As noted before, his wife, children and grandchildren would most likely have chosen the theme from One Foot in the Grave, as their perpetual nickname for him is Victor Meldrew – alias Mister Grumpy. Of course, he laps all this up with relish and good humour, and enjoys playing his role of doomsayer. It’s all in a day’s work.

Even though Scotland have come home, the Euros are still on, and I have to decide now who to switch my allegiance to. Having lived very happily in Rome for a while, and experiencing the passion and the pain that they feel, I always have a soft spot for Italy, and so perhaps that’s who I will be cheering on. Of course, the next week or so will also be dominated by the forthcoming election, and I will have to decide where my allegiance lies there too. As this is the last log before the summer break, I expect that by the next time I write, we will be living under a very different regime. I am praying at this time for discernment in my voting choice.

Thank you, as always, for reading Father Frank’s Log, whether that’s weekly on the website, or monthly in the Flourish; and thank you for the affirmation and encouragement I receive. As you know, I write about anything and everything in the belief that God is there to be found in all the little ordinary, mundane, everyday things. God is in all things, and there is nothing too secular that it doesn’t have an element of the sacred in it. I will look forward to resuming the log sometime soon. Life goes on, and so does God, always and everywhere.
 
As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
2 Comments

father frank's log...

21/6/2024

1 Comment

 
FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 23rd – 30th JUNE 2024

Last Monday morning, after celebrating the 10 o’clock Mass in St Roch’s, Father Gareth, Brother Conor and myself set off for our Passionist Retreat Centre at Crossgar, County Down, in Northern Ireland. The purpose of our journey was to attend an assembly of our province, the main thrust of which would be the launch of a rather extensive review process which will be unfolding between now and our Provincial Chapter, which is scheduled to take place in June 2025. Father Gareth assumed the driving responsibilities as we made our way to Cairnryan for the Stena Line ferry to Belfast. We were making good time and so, rather than be there too early, we stopped off in Girvan. It was a beautiful day, so we had a stroll along the seafront, and then found ourselves a little café where we could sit in and have some refreshments. We then continued the journey and got ourselves checked in at the terminal.

At one point, as we relaxed in the terminal, waiting to be called back to our vehicle, I decided to take a walk outside, just to stretch my legs and get a breath of fresh air. It was obvious that the ferry was going to be very busy as the lanes of cars, vans and lorries waiting to board were all jam packed. There is just a very narrow lane, principally designated for dog walkers, which offers the opportunity to take a stroll, and so I walked along there as far as I could go, and then turned to walk back again. Suddenly, a man approached me from between the cars, and asked me if I was Father Frank Keevins. When I responded in the affirmative, uncertain of what was to come next, he told me that he had recognized me from my picture in the Flourish while reading my log the day before, for the very first time, having picked up a copy from the church in which he and his wife had attended Mass whilst visiting their daughter, who was living in Glasgow. It turned out that his wife was the daughter of the man who, for many years, had been my dentist in Dublin, during my student days in Mount Argus in the late 1970’s and early 1980’s. When I started the parish folk group in Mount Argus in 1976, two of his daughters and one of his sons became members, and so I got to know the family quite well. Whenever I would make an appointment to see the dentist, I would always be scheduled in for the last appointment before lunch, and he would then insist that I accompany him across the road to his house for a bowl of soup and a sandwich with him and his dear wife. He would insist on this, even though my mouth would still have been numb from the injection that preceded any treatment, and so, that usually meant that I was slurring the soup down my chin, with more of it going on to my jumper than into my mouth. He would then go back to the surgery, and I would go back to the monastery, clean my chin, and throw my jumper in the wash. He was such a good, decent and friendly man, and always full of chat. When I was in the dentist’s chair, he would always try to drill into me the benefits of dental floss (no pun intended), but when I was in his home, the chat would be about family, faith, and his many memories and anecdotes of Mount Argus. He is long dead now, God rest him, but it was such a delight to be then brought over to their car to meet his daughter, and to catch up with her on all the other family members whom I had known so well back in the day.

I returned to my colleagues, only to discover that another Passionist, Father Frank Trias, was also booked on this ferry, having been home in Glasgow over the weekend with the sacristan from Holy Cross, Ardoyne, where Father Frank now ministers. The main reason for their trip was to attend a big wrestling event in the Hydro, but of course Father Frank was also taking the opportunity to visit his mum. The ferry journey passed very pleasantly with lots of good chat, and of course we would meet up with Fater Frank again the next day at the assembly. The assembly went very well. Brother Conor was staying on in Crossgar, and so Father Gareth and myself set off on the Tuesday evening for the ferry back to Cairnryan. We arrived back to Bishopbriggs around half past midnight, tired but safe, and ready for work next day.

As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
1 Comment

father frank's log...

13/6/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 16th – 23rd JUNE 2024
​

Just as I began to celebrate the 7pm Mass last Sunday, I noticed a big group of people come in, make their way across the back of the church, down one of the side aisles, and then take up a few rows in the pews. Our Sunday evening Mass, like the 9pm Mass in St Aloysius Jesuit Church in Garnethill, can attract a transient congregation as well as a regular congregation, but it was unusual to see such a large group of people coming in together, and from what I could glean, they were all young people. Afterwards, as Father Gareth, Brother Conor, and myself, greeted people outside, we discovered that they were all from Chicago, where Brother Conor had recently completed his Theology studies, and that they were in fact Swifties. The Wikipedia definition is that Swifties are the fandom of American singer-songwriter Taylor Swift. Regarded by journalists as one of the largest, most devoted and influential fan bases, Swifties are known for their high levels of participation, creativity, community and fanaticism. For anyone who may have been living on another planet last week, Taylor Swift was playing the first two nights of the British leg of her European Tour at Murrayfield Stadium last Friday and Saturday. When I was watching the news coverage, and listening to so many young people from all over the world being interviewed on the streets of Edinburgh, absolutely brimming with anticipation and excitement, the last thing I expected was that a group of Swifties would make their way to Glasgow, and to St Mungo’s, to participate in Sunday Evening Mass. Their plan was to see a bit of Glasgow before heading off on a tour of the Highlands. I hope they travel safely and have a wonderful time, and I found it really heartening that getting to Sunday Mass was part of their itinerary.

I was prompted to remember some of my own concert experiences from way back. In the late 1960’s and early 1970’s, when I was a bit of a folkie, I would often go to the City Halls in Candleriggs to see groups like Fairport Convention, when the late Sandy Denny was lead singer, with her most amazing voice, and Pentangle, when Danny Thomson was the double bass player, who made me embarrassed to ever play the double bass again, he was so brilliant. I later had the experience of performing on that same stage when the group that I was playing with, the Open Hand Band (there were 5 of us), reached the final of the Scottish Folk Group Championships, coming second to a great group call the JSD Band. I remember that the Irish duo, Finbar and Eddie Furey, were the guest artists during the interval while the votes were being counted. It was a close call, but I think the best group won. The nearest I came to a Swiftie experience was going, twice, to open air concerts at the RDS in Dublin to see my all-time favourites, Simon and Garfunkel. The first time was on 15th June 1982. I was due to sit my final Theology exams the next day, so I should have been home studying, but there was no way I was missing that concert. The second time was on 17th July 2004, when Simon and Garfunkel were doing their farewell tour, with the Everley Brothers as their support act. I was rector and parish priest of Mount argus at the time; it was a Saturday night; and I was on early Mass next morning, but again there was no way I could possibly miss it.

There have been other memorable concerts – Rod Stewart at the Glasgow Apollo, being there with my niece, sometime in the 1970’s, with Rod revealing his Scotland strip at one point, and kicking a host of footballs into the audience; The re-united Eagles at Lansdowne Road in Dublin in 2006. I wasn’t a massive fan but I was gifted two spare tickets just a couple of hours before the show, and it was too good to miss seeing the legendary Joe Walsh in the flesh. Also, Carlos Santana at the Latium in Rome when I was studying there in 1983, accompanied by an Australian Passionist who was almost as good a guitarist as Carlos Santana himself. These are just a few of the many. I would probably find such experiences all too exhausting now, but the good memories live on, and I’m glad of them to look back on.

As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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Father Frank's Log...

6/6/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 9th – 16th JUNE 2024

A couple of weeks ago I mentioned that I would be heading down, by bus, to Selly Park Convent in Birmingham to celebrate the Golden Jubilee Mass for a sister who used to be part of the retreat team in Minsteracres when I was novice master there in the early 1990’s.  The reason for going by bus was that I didn’t fancy the long drive, and the train was far too expensive, whereas the bus was very reasonable. It was a long time since I had made such a journey by bus, but part of me was looking forward to it, as I imagined it would be very relaxing compared to the stress of driving the car. I, therefore, boarded a National Express coach last Friday morning, well equipped with my Kindle, containing both fictional and spiritual reading material; a little book of crossword puzzles; a magazine with lots of articles about the upcoming European Football Championships in Germany; a prawn mayonnaise sandwich, and a bottle of water. I was all set. At one stage I dozed off, and when I awoke, I realized that we weren’t on the motorway anymore, but were driving along country roads, and I found this a bit puzzling. I then heard the driver contacting his central office to say that, as there was a 7-mile tailback on the M6, he had taken some back roads into Carlisle and Penrith, and could they advise if the M6 was any clearer after Penrith. I then heard the reply come back that the roads were clearer, but that there would be further congestion at certain junctions along the way. The driver, having informed his superiors that he was totally fed up with the M6, then, good humouredly, asked his passengers what possessed us to travel on a Friday anyway. To cut a long story short, instead of arriving at Digbeth coach station in Birmingham at 4pm, as scheduled, we arrived at 5.30pm, which gave me just enough time to get to the convent, splash water on my face, and head out with the jubilarian and six of her other guests, to a local tavern, where we enjoyed a lovely meal and a good catch-up chat, during which I discovered that one of the other guests, who had travelled from Guernsey, had endured a much more harrowing experience than I did, and that she was still living with a lot of uncertainty as to how, when, and from where, she was travelling back.

The jubilee celebrations went beautifully, and were extremely well organised from beginning to end. I had opted to return on a bus travelling through the night from Saturday into Sunday. The bus was scheduled to leave at 11pm. I made my way to the coach station just before 8pm, and went looking for a local pub that might be showing the Champions League final, calculating that this would finish around 10pm, when I could then stroll back to the coach station in good time for the bus. I could only find one pub nearby, and not a very salubrious one at that. The security man on the door wasn’t sure if they were showing the match. When I went inside there was horse racing on the TV, and so I asked a group of men if they knew if they would be showing the match. Almost typically, a gruff Glasgow accent roared back at me saying “Yir no a Celtic supporter ur ye? Well, you’re no welcome here”. I held my hands up and said I wasn’t looking to upset anybody, to which he then laughed, shook my hand, and bemoaned the fact thar Rangers had only won the League Cup, which to him was a disaster. He then said that the match would be on, and so I found myself a nice little corner to stand at by the bar with a clear view of the TV, ordered a pint of local pale ale to nurse through the duration, and set myself to enjoy the game. There was an elderly man in a flat cap, with a broad Brummy accent, sitting on a stool beside me, and we chatted a bit through the first half, after which he left, and offered up his bar stool to me. I was afraid at one stage the match was going to extra time and I wouldn’t see the end of the game, but thankfully it didn’t. When the final whistle sounded, I made my way back to the coach station, and the journey home went as planned, although I must confess, I was totally bunched throughout the next two days. Back in Bishopbriggs, I found all the community well, and not having missed me at all.

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

2/6/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 2nd – 9th JUNE 2024
​

Last Friday I went to a Safeguarding Day for Religious in Carfin. Every time I drive to Carfin I get lost, and this time was no different. Not having Satnav, I usually download an AA route planner. I’m usually fine until I come off the M8 at junction 6A onto the A73, and then enter into a bemusing assortment of roundabouts, the AA instruction at these roundabouts being take 3rd exit, then 1st exit, then 3rd exit, then 2nd exit, then 3rd exit, then 1st exit, then go straight through, and then take 3rd exit, before turning right onto Carfin Road. I was sure that, this time, I wasn’t going to have a problem, having learned the lessons of previous journeys, until I found myself turning off a roundabout and entering into some kind of industrial estate with a barrier across the entrance, when I should have been turning onto Loanhead Road in Newarthill, which would have been only minutes from my destination. Half an hour later I was still driving round in circles, and it was only by the grace of God that I stopped to ask a lady heading into her house if she knew how I could get to Carfin Grotto, only to discover that I was actually on the Newarthill Road and very close to my destination. Thankfully, I had left in plenty of time, and so, while I had missed the welcoming cup of coffee, I arrived with 5 minutes to spare, made my registration, and then sat down, just as the day was scheduled to begin. I was then somewhat consoled by the fact that one of the introductory speakers began by saying that she too had got lost on the way, and that she had been following her Satnav.
​

The day was looking at Safeguarding in the context of Catholic Social Teaching. The shape of the day is usually an Opening Prayer, 1st Talk, Mass, Lunch, 2nd Talk, Q&A, and Closing Prayer. After Mass I recognised a priest, an Oblate of Mary Immaculate, whom I had known quite well in Dublin, some years previously, when he was based at the Oblate Monastery in Inchicore, and I was based at the Passionist Retreat in Mount Argus. I remember inviting him over to give a session at our Triduum of Hope in honour of St Charles of Mount Argus, and he gave a very beautiful, reflective input. It was good to meet him again and have a catch up, and, as he is now involved with Stella Maris, he has come to know our Stella Maris members here in St Mungo’s. It’s a small world – especially if you’re a Catholic. There was a generous amount of free time after lunch before the afternoon session began, and so I took a walk around the grounds, taking in some of the various shrines that I always feel drawn to. One that I stopped to say a prayer at was the shrine to Blessed Carlo Acutis, especially as we had recently hosted the Eucharistic Miracles Exhibition in St Mungo’s that is inspired by this impressive young man of his times, a computer wizard. It was only when I got home to Bishopbriggs that evening, without getting lost, that I discovered that, on this very same day, Pope Francis had cleared the way for Blessed Carlo Acutis to become a saint.

Father John took some time off over the Bank Holiday weekend to go travelling with some friends. The original intention was to travel north and take in some of the beautiful sights of the Scottish Highlands. However, he ended up travelling to South Wales and taking in some of the sights there. Thankfully, he didn’t come back with a Welsh accent as one of those in the community is quite enough. I had visited Wales a few times, when the Passionists had houses at St Non’s and Carmarthen. I also once visited Shrewsbury on the English/Welsh border. I had been very interested in the Brother Cadfael medieval murder mysteries by Ellis Peters, as recommended by a famous Jesuit for people involved in Religious Formation, as I was at the time. The books were set in the 11th century when Shrewsbury was part of Wales. The main locus was the Benedictine Abbey of Saints Peter and Paul, which, in present day, has a Brother Cadfael Visitor Centre. The visitor experience includes a murder mystery to solve. I was delighted to visit the abbey and I cleverly solved the murder – wonderful!

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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