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father frank's log...

28/8/2021

FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 22nd – 29th AUGUST

I unexpectedly found myself on call for hospital chaplaincy duty last Sunday, and I received three very different call-outs in the course of the day. One was to a 60-year-old man who, without prior warning, had suffered a serious stroke. It was a reminder of how a person’s life can suddenly change in the blink of an eye. The second was to a 93-year-old lady who had smashed her hip and was due to go into palliative care. She was delighted to receive the Holy Eucharist and the Sacrament of the Sick but, every now and again, she would turn her gaze away from me and begin to talk to Jesus as if he were standing right there at the side of her bed. She spoke in such an affectionate way that it was obvious this was the kind of intimate conversation that she had regularly with the Lord. I was reminded of that famous description of prayer as simply looking at Jesus looking at me. The third call was to a maternity ward where twins had been born but, sadly, one of them had died in the womb. It was one of those situations where there is no formal ritual, and you just have to let the prayers come from the heart. I blessed the wee child, still in his cot, who had died; also the wee child who lived, who was resting in her mother’s arms, and was doing quite well; and I blessed the parents, each trying to cope with this tragedy in their own way, and yet trying to support each other as well.

Often, in such situations, when you are just on call, you never find out how things worked out afterwards. It’s like planting and watering a seed and then trusting the Lord to make it grow. This brings to mind that, as I write, today is the feast of Blessed Dominic Barberi who, as a young man, dreamt of planting a seed that would revive the Catholic faith in England. He joined the Passionists and encouraged the Congregation to send missionaries to England. This eventually came to pass in 1842 when Dominic and another Passionist came from Belgium and obtained a house at Aston Hall in Staffordshire. In a very humble way, he planted that seed of faith, and received many converts into the church, including, most famously, the now Saint John Henry Newman. Blessed Dominic became known as the Shepherd of the Second Spring, the Second Spring being the revival of the faith in England. So, Dominic planted and watered the seed, and then God brought the growth, which Dominic never lived to see in full.

I can’t let the Log pass without lamenting the death of Charlie Watts, the legendary drummer of the Rolling Stones, who passed away this week, aged 80. In the early 1960’s, as I entered my teens, I was caught up in the revolution that was taking place in popular music. In the so-called battle between the Beatles and the Stones, while my older brother was very much a Beatles fan, I opted strongly for the Rolling Stones. For some obscure reason and, as always, inclined to be different, our younger brother didn’t like either, and chose the Dave Clark Five as his favourite group. Not only was the Rolling Stones my favourite group, but Charlie Watts was my favourite group member. His fantastic drumming, and his laid back sombre-faced style, fascinated me. I joined the fan club and collected memorabilia, especially on Charlie. I would buy the New Musical Express (NME) and get excited when I read about a new single or a new album coming out, and I would be at the nearest record shop to buy it on the day of release. I would then almost wear it out by playing it over and over again on my Dansette record player. I did this up until 1972, and the album Exile on Main Street, before my interests, and my musical tastes, went in other directions. Like most of us, though, the music I liked in my youth never really left me, and I find myself going back, again and again, to listen to a lot of those early tracks. So, God rest you Charlie, you brought me a lot of joy.

Back at Bishopbriggs, we are all doing okay. Father Justinian is getting used to new carers. Having been elected consultor, Father Antony is heavily involved in the consultation process before appointments are made. Father Gareth seems to be touting for a transfer to Hawaii. Brother Brendan is home on holiday and will join us for a meal this Friday. So, as always,
protect yourselves, protect your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's Log...

21/8/2021

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 15th AUGUST – 22nd AUGUST

While it doesn’t appear in the Liturgical Calendar for Scotland, I noticed that last Tuesday was the Memorial of Our Lady of Knock, and that sparked off a memory for me. After I was ordained in 1983, I was posted here to St. Mungo’s, primarily as the Vocations Director for Scotland, replacing Father Terence. One of the things I inherited from my predecessor was an annual pilgrimage to Knock to pray for Passionist vocations. As this was something that a number of people appeared to look forward to, and, as I had a task on my hands to win the hearts and minds of those who were going to miss the much-loved Father Terence, I decided that I had better keep this pilgrimage going, which I did for the three years that I spent here, before being transferred to Dublin to take up another post.

It was, however, never a burden. It was always a most enjoyable trip, combining serious prayer with good company, and great fun. We would fill a coach load with pilgrims and travel over to Ireland on the ferry to Belfast. On route to Knock Shrine, we would stop off at the Passionist Monastery at the Graan, in Enniskillen, where we would be heartily welcomed and treated to tea and buns. There were Passionists at the Graan who had once been stationed in St. Mungo’s, and so they were happy to reminisce about former times. The same thing would happen at the Passionist Monastery at Cloonamahon, County Sligo, as we continued our journey west, then south to County Mayo, where the village of Knock is located.

While there, we would have a full programme of pilgrimage activities, but there was always a day when we went into Westport, and then out to Croagh Patrick, the holy mountain. A few of us would ascend the mountain and take in the wonderful views out over Clew Bay; others would climb up, only as far as the statue of St. Patrick, while the rest would assemble at the foot of the mountain, and wait for us in a variety store that catered for just about every need imaginable, including tea and scones, but also pints of Guiness or lager for those who so wished. I have to confess that I enjoyed a nice pint of Harp lager to quench my thirst after the climb, and I remember that the store manager had to move a statue of the Child of Prague out of the way to get to the lager pump. I remember too, that on our first trip, there was a local man sitting on a stool, enjoying a nice pint of Guiness, or two, and playing a tin whistle. This soon developed into a sing-song that was thoroughly enjoyed by everyone. The second year, when we went back, the same man was sitting on the same stool playing the same tunes, and the third year he was there again. It turned out he was the local postman, and I did wonder whether he ever left that stool, and did the local people ever get their mail delivered.

I’ve always found the Apparition at Knock quite intriguing. An August night in 1879, with torrential rain pouring down, everywhere, except, that is, at the gable end of the church where the apparition took place, witnessed by most of the village. An extraordinary ensemble of Our Lady; St. Joseph; St. John the Evangelist; the Lamb of God; the altar; the cross, and a circlet of angels. Not a word was spoken. The Shrine was visited by Pope Francis on his recent visit to Ireland, a couple of years ago, and he has raised the status of the Shrine from a national to an international Marian Shrine. At that time it even had a Marriage Bureau, where many a searching Catholic found a compatible partner over the years, but that closed in 2019.

Out at Bishopbriggs we have just had a post-chapter visit from our Provincial, consulting with each of us about how to move forward during these next few years. There remain two further stages in this consultation process before appointments are made, probably sometime in the middle of September. When the dust settles, there may be changes to our team at St. Mungo’s, or there may not. Trusting that we have had the chance to speak, and be listened to, we leave it all in the hands of the Provincial and his team and, of course, the Holy Spirit. So, as ever, protect yourselves, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

14/8/2021

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 8th – 15th AUGUST

On my way home tonight, I will be calling in on my older brother, the undisputed doyen of Scottish football journalism. The reason for my visit will be to bring a gift and a couple of cards from myself and our younger brother to mark his, and his beloved’s, Golden Wedding
Anniversary, which they will celebrate this coming Saturday, 14th August. I remember the day well. The Nuptial Mass took place in St. Laurence’s in Drumchapel, and I was the best man. I was playing in a Folk Group at the time and I had the most horrendous long hair with a straggly beard that was shaved away at the chin. I had hoped that by now those photographs would have long since been destroyed, but I think my sister-in-law deliberately keeps them so as to embarrass me by showing them to anyone who comes to the house, and who didn’t know me in my younger, wilder days.

You will forgive me, given the occasion, for making this week’s Log partly about football. Hugh had started his journalistic career about a year previously but, inadvertently, had booked the wedding for the first day of the 1971/72 Scottish football season, a day when Celtic were due to meet Rangers in the opening round of the League Cup. The game should have been at Celtic Park, but because the main stand at Celtic Park was being re-built, it ended up being played at Ibrox as Rangers objected to Hampden. Regardless, Celtic won 2-0. “Jinky” Johnstone scored the first goal, and then big “Yogi” Hughes was pulled down for a penalty. The captain, Big Billy “Caesar” McNeill, who had kindly given Hugh his first big, major interview just days after he started work, and who remained very friendly towards him, called on a young striker, making his debut in a big game for the first team, to step up to take the penalty. His name was Kenny Dalglish. Kenny stooped down to tie his boot lace, placed the ball on the spot, then calmly placed it past the Rangers goalie, Peter McCloy. What a day to have booked your wedding?

I remember that, when the Nuptial Mass was over, and we were due to go into the Sacristy to sign the register, Hugh went missing. He was, of course, trying to find out what the score was at Ibrox. This was pre-mobile phone days, and so, he was depending on someone having a transistor radio somewhere on their possession. There were probably about 20 of our family members and friends who had transistor radios on that day, and so he eventually appeared for the signing with a big smile on his face. The wedding reception took place in a function suite in Clydebank. After I had performed my best man duties by reading out the telegrams and making some kind of a speech, I handed over to the man himself to make his groom’s speech. He began by saying that this was one of the happiest days of his life – because Celtic had beaten Ranger 2-0. His tongue was in his cheek, of course (well, mostly), but, in reality, it wasn’t just one of, but the happiest day of his life. They have been truly devoted to each other ever since and have been an inspiration to their son, two daughters, four grandsons, and two granddaughters, even though they affectionately call Hugh, Victor Meldrew, or Mister Grumpy, and know that Janet has been the rock in his, and all of their lives. Hugh may not be the flavour of the month with the Celtic support at present, because he has been a bit “Mister Grumpy” with regard to Celtic’s prospects for this season, perhaps saying things that a lot of supporters themselves feared inside, but he and his good lady are very deserving of a good celebration to mark this landmark achievement. So, well done, and congratulations!

Meanwhile, out at Bishopbriggs, we are all doing well. Father Antony is easing into life as a consultor, having to go backwards and forwards to Dublin for meetings, as part of the process of discernment for making appointments. The rest of us just continue on as normal, make our own contribution to the process, and await the outcome, which will probably take until mid to late September. It’s all in God’s hands and under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. So, as ever,
protect yourselves, protect your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

7/8/2021

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 1st – 8th AUGUST

Yesterday was the Memorial of St. John Mary Vianney, and that sparked off a memory. I once took a road trip with Father Paul Francis, but it wasn’t Route 66 in the U.S.A., the Great Ocean Road in Australia, or even the Wild Atlantic Way in the West of Ireland. Father Paul Francis was based in Paris at the time, and, if memory serves, I was based in Prestonpans, not much difference! The Passionist Community at St. Joseph’s in Paris, very near to the Arc de Triumph, had a nice Renaut 13 car but, at that time, Father Paul Francis didn’t drive. He was, and is, however, an extraordinary map reader. For our summer holidays, I took a flight to Paris, stayed the night, and then, the following day, we embarked on a memorable journey. We drove south to the Burgundy region. I remember at one stage he directed me along a dusty track at the side of a cornfield. To my astonishment we came out on the road we wanted, having cut about half an hour off the journey. His map reading skills were proven.

At Father Paul Francis’ behest, we visited a few Cistercian Abbeys, including Cîteaux, the original house of the Cistercians, founded by St. Bernard of Clairvaux in the 11th century. We also visited the Benedictine Abbey at Cluny, near to Taize, where we spent a few hours in prayer, joining the many young people from all over the world who were on retreat. In the early 1980’s, when we were both based at St. Mungo’s, we had brought a group of young people from the parish to Taize for a week’s retreat, and it remains a very precious and happy memory. Later, in the late 1980’s, when I was a Formation Director in Dublin, I brought a group of Passionist students to Taize, and then, in 2007, after the Canonization of St. Charles of Mount Argus, I made another trip to visit the grave of Brother Roger, the founder of Taize, who had been sadly and brutally murdered, while at prayer, a few years before. That was the last time I was there, but it remains a very special place, and I love the simple style of prayer, and the chants that are at the heart of it. It wasn’t a totally religious trip with Father Paul Francis. At my behest, we visited a couple of Burgundy vineyards and, as we were resting in a farmhouse B&B overnight, we sampled the local produce with good, simple food.

The next stage of the trip was through Switzerland, but we only stopped once to get a very expensive cup of coffee and a Swiss pastry, and to admire a scenic view. We were actually heading for the Great St. Bernard Pass to cross over into Aosta in North Italy, stopping off at the famous pilgrim hospice founded by St. Bernard nearly 1000 years previously, and where they still were breeding St. Bernard dogs, brandy kegs and all. I had never driven such scary mountain roads before, with hairpin bends, sheer drops, and long tunnels excavated through the mountain. I was very glad to get to Aosta. From there we made our way to Turin, where we were joined by an Italian Passionist who was guiding us to a Passionist Monastery up in the hills, where we would relax for a few days. It was near to Lake Maggiore, which spans Switzerland and Italy, and so it was quite pleasantly cool. Unfortunately, the Shroud of Turin was not on display, but the Cathedral of John the Baptist, which is its home, was beautiful.

Like the Magi, we travelled back by a different route, over Mont Blanc. When we were back in France we made a few detours along the route to Paris, one being in Annecy, where we visited the Basilica of the Visitation, with the relics of Saints Francis de Sales and St. Jane de Chantal. St. Francis de Sales had a big influence on St. Paul of the Cross, the founder of the Passionists, but he is also the patron saint of writers and journalists, so he must have had a big influence on the Keevins family as well. And then, not too far from Annecy, we visited Ars, where St. John Mary Vianney was, of course, the Curé for over 40 years. You had probably forgotten that this was how this Log began. We joined the many pilgrims at the Shrine and, as we were both parish priests at the time, paid tribute to our patron. The next stop was Paris, an overnight stay, then home to Prestonpans, and back to porridge. It was a great road trip.
As ever; protect yourselves, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

father frank's Log...

father frank's log...

father frank's log...

FATHER FRANK KEEVINS C.P.

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