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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

30/10/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 25th OCTOBER – 1st NOVEMBER 2020
​

This week I had one of my four-times-yearly visits to the chiropodist. I have to do this because I have a bit of a back problem, protrusions between the third and fourth vertebrae, which, while nothing too serious at this stage, means that putting on my socks in the morning is a major task, and as for cutting my toenails, well, that’s just impossible. We had a nurse at Mount Argus in Dublin who used to, very kindly, do this for me before I moved back to Glasgow. She retired recently, but in the 20 years and more she was in Mount Argus she made an extraordinary contribution to the health and wellbeing of the increasingly frail and aging Passionist Community. At first, there was great resistance to her coming among the older men, as it would mean setting up a nursing station within what used to be considered monastic enclosure, a boundary intended to separate the religious community from the wider society, and now we were to have a nurse, a woman indeed, right in the midst of us. The same kind of resistance had occurred previously when we proposed turning three rooms into two in the old monastery, so as to give each man an en-suite bedroom. Prior to this there was only a common wash-hall and shower area, and a cubicle with three WC’s on each of the three floors. In fact, the architect who designed the original monastery, back in the 1850’s, had forgotten to put in toilets at all, possibly thinking we were angels and not religious, and so the toilets, as an afterthought, had always been inadequate. The older men, admirably, considered having an en-suite bedroom a luxury, and against their vow of poverty. However, they were wisely overruled, and they soon got used to not having to walk the long, dark corridors in the middle of the night to go to the loo, and to wash and shave in the morning.
 
Their resistance to the nurse soon broke down as well and, within a short time, they were almost fighting with each other to be the first to see her when she came in each morning. She was just so good, so efficient, and so genuinely caring. It was she who arranged for me to have a scan on my back, in the course of which another problem was identified, which resulted in me having to undergo thyroid surgery just before I moved from Mount Argus back to Saint Mungo’s. Anyway, there is not so much wrong now, but I do enjoy my occasional visits to the chiropodist which now, like everything else, is controlled by Covid-19 protocols. I have to sit in the car, wearing my mask, until I am called in. Doors are opened for me so that I don’t touch any handles. I sanitise my hands, proceed to the treatment room, and prepare myself for the session, during which I wear a mask at all times, as does the chiropodist. Doors are once again opened for me on exit, after sanitising my hands once again.  Payment is only by card, according to the new normal, but it was all well worth it.
 
This visit to the chiropodist occasioned a conversation in the house about feet. Father Gareth and Father Antony have very big feet, and I have very small feet, but I also require a wide fit, and so, each of us in our own different ways have some difficulty in getting shoes to fit. Father Gareth, being a great film buff, brought the actor, Julia Roberts, into the conversation. He had remembered reading that she either had very big feet or very small feet, but he couldn’t remember which. However, as she would most probably have her shoes handmade, we didn’t think that she would have the same problem finding suitable footwear. My most recent shoes were bought with a Marks & Spencers gift card, but they had to be ordered in the shop, and then collected a day or two later, as they didn’t keep my wee size in stock. My next venture is a follow-up with a Urologist at Stobhill on Friday, as befits a man of my age.
The rest of the community are all well. Father Justinian seems to have a different carer every day, as the home care system tries to keep up with demands, but he is being very well looked after. Father Antony, accompanied by Deacon Joe, is due to celebrate Mass on board another ship, so has undergone a second recent Covid-19 test, thankfully paid for by the Apostleship of the Sea. Father Gareth is back in full swing, but misses the daily swims he used to enjoy.
So, as ever, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

​
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father Frank's Log...

22/10/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 18th – 25th OCTOBER 2020
​
Last Monday, 19th October, we celebrated the Feast of St. Paul of the Cross, the founder of the Passionists. As with all things these days, it was a very different kind of celebration from the usual. I celebrated the Mass, which was streamed from the Oratory in Bishopbriggs, with Father Antony and Father Gareth joining me in what seemed to be a very small space for two such big men plus myself who, admittedly, is not so big. Father Justinian joined us online from his room downstairs. In the afternoon Father Antony and Father Gareth came into the church for the period of Prayer and Adoration, and to be available for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, while I headed off to an appointment with the optician.

I am very, very longsighted, and I had been used to changing my glasses every couple of years or so, while I was living in Dublin. However, between one thing and another, it had been six years since I last changed my glasses, and the ones I was wearing now were so covered in scratches, with the anti-glare coating almost completely worn off, that I felt as if I was viewing life through a kind of fog, so the time had come to take action. Getting an eye test in these times is difficult too. Both the optician and myself were wearing the inevitable and compulsory masks. The optician stuck some tape to my mask to try and prevent my glasses, and the different lenses she was putting in to test my vision, from steaming up. The tape wasn’t very effective, and she still had to exercise great patience in constantly having to wipe everything she used. Still and all, I was very happy with the thoroughness of the test.

The next step was to choose a frame. My problem is always not being able to see what the frame looks like when looking through plane lenses. I always have to depend on the assistant to tell me if they look alright, and if they suit my wee pudgy face. I am also very limited in that only a certain size and shape of frame will take the very strong prescription I require, but eventually we got that sorted too. If you were to ask me now, though, what the frame I chose looks like, I wouldn’t have a clue. So, that will be a surprise for me when I come to collect them. My plan had been to go from the optician to my brother’s house in Drumchapel, to prepare his meal, and to do a bit of cleaning. I hadn’t counted, however, on drops being put in my eyes, and being told not to drive for a few hours. I had to leave the car in Morrison’s car park and, feeling a bit vulnerable, get a taxi, once I had found a driver willing to take me, and then get a taxi back to collect the car again, and still be in time for our celebration meal for the Feast of our Founder. We had decided on ordering food in, and we opted for Indian cuisine. I suppose we should have gone for Italian, given that our founder was from Northern Italy, but we enjoyed the Indian just the same, even though we felt a bit stuffed afterwards.

I entered the Passionists, in October 1975, just a couple of weeks before we were to celebrate the 200th anniversary of the death of St. Paul of the Cross, and now, in a few weeks’ time, we are due to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the birth of the Passionist Congregation, dating it from the 22nd November 1720, which was the day that Paul Francis Daneo, later to become St. Paul of Cross, was first clothed in the black habit that was to become the essential garb of Passionists, along with the distinctive sign, a heart worn over the heart, bearing the name of Jesus, and the symbols of the Passion. Beginning on that day, this year, Pope Francis has granted a Jubilee Year to the Passionists, and we hope that all of our extended Passionist family, who are associated with us through our parishes, monasteries and retreat houses, will be able to journey with us and experience the many graces and blessings that will be available in this Jubilee Year. I remember it being said that very few religious orders survive into their 4th century; the first hundred years being years of growth, the second hundred years being years of consolidation, and the third hundred years being years of decline and dissolution. As we Passionists enter our 4th century we ask you to pray for us that we will last a long time yet.
So, as ever, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

15/10/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 11th – 18th OCTOBER 2020
​

Father Gareth’s return has freed up a little bit of space, even for the ordinary things. Last Saturday I was to celebrate a wedding in the afternoon, so I came into the church early, parked the car in the church yard, and headed into town to do some chores, one of which was to buy razor blades for my Gillette razor. Razor blades are one of those items where there is far too much choice. I usually find myself gazing at a wide array of options in the store, trying to remember what type of razor I actually have as, even though the blades are meant to be interchangeable, I am one of those people with slight (I think) OCD, who has to get the right blades to match the right razor, otherwise it will really annoy me. For a while I tried an electric razor. That was when I was Rector and Parish Priest at Mount Argus in Dublin, and a very much-loved priest on the parish team was leaving to go to Holy Cross in Belfast. Some people clubbed together and presented him with a very nice, and quite expensive, electric razor, which he surreptitiously passed on to me as he had never had anything other than a wet shave in his whole life, and he had no intention of changing then. I started to use the electric razor now and again, on occasions when I was feeling too tired, or too lazy, to have a wet shave, but it never really felt the same, and so I use it even more occasionally now.
 
In my late teens and early twenties, I went through my beard phase. This was at the time when I was playing double bass in a folk group, playing at being an accountant by day, and plying my musical trade in clubs and pubs around the country by night, and a beard for a folk musician was almost compulsory – just for the men, of course. During this period my older brother got married and I was his best man. I had a quite horrendous beard at that time, very bushy but shaved away at the chin. The only evidence remaining of this is in some wedding photographs gleefully and sadistically held on to by my sister-in-law. I have vowed to find them some day and destroy them. I still had a beard when I joined the Passionists. Myself and a fellow Scot, wearing identical green puffer jackets, and sporting lots of face hair, arrived at the Passionist Monastery of Saint Gabriel’s, the Graan, in Enniskillen to begin our postulancy on the 4th of October 1975. We were three days late in arriving, through no fault of our own, and when we walked in the door our four new classmates, two from Belfast, one from County Clare, and one from Nigeria, and all a few years younger than us, gazed in amazement at us, as if we had just dropped in from another planet, and looked terrified. The Passionist who was to be our Postulancy Director for the year was none too impressed either. After a while, they all realised we were quite normal, and we settled down to our introductory spiritual year together. About five months later, during Lent, I decided to shave my beard off. I had been sporting a beard for about 6 years at this stage, and so I felt very exposed around the face when it was no longer there. Three days after I shaved it off, one of the older Passionists, who vary rarely spoke during meals, a carry-over from the days when Passionists were not allowed to speak at meal times, suddenly burst out and demanded to know who this stranger was who had been in his midst for days, and to whom he hadn’t yet been introduced. It took a wee while for everybody to realise he was talking about me. He just hadn’t recognised me. I’ve been cleanshaven now for 44 years, and I doubt I will ever grow a beard again.
 
It's funny how we always imagine Jesus with a beard, a reasonable assumption given the times and culture he lived in, even though there is no description of what Jesus looked like in the Gospels, beard or no beard. The evangelists had much more important things to write about. And yet, one of my favourite images of Jesus is in Caravaggio’s famous painting of the Supper at Emmaus, which hangs in the National Gallery in London. In this wonderful painting Jesus is cleanshaven, and I find it a quite beautiful and captivating image, almost wanting to jump out of my seat with the disciples Jesus had met on the road, at the moment of recognition. Going back to last Saturday, I ended up buying a new razor, a Harry, not a Gillette, which has only one type of blade, much cheaper than the others, and so life may be less confusing in the future, at least when it comes to buying razor blades.
 
Out at Bishopbriggs we are all doing okay. Father Gareth has settled back seamlessly; Father Justinian is keeping disgustingly well; Father Antony had a, thankfully negative, Covid-19 test to enable him to accompany Deacon Joe on to a boat to celebrate Mass with the crew and to hear Confessions; and I made the Sports pages of the Sunday Mail – I can’t complain, because I don’t ask big brother when I occasionally mention him in the Log, so he probably feels free to do the same. So, more than ever; do all you can to protect yourselves, to protect your loved ones, and to protect Christ in your lives.

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Father Frank's log...

8/10/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 4th – 11th OCTOBER 2020

We waited with baited breath early this week to see if Father Gareth would make it back from Merthyr Tydfil. Having received the official go ahead to travel, and being satisfied that his mum was in a good place, he made his plans to travel by train last Tuesday. Of course, with Covid-19, anything can happen in the space of a few days, and so we weren’t taking his anticipated return for granted. Then came Storm Alex with torrential rain and warnings of floods and travel disruption. Wales was badly hit and, of course, on the list of the worst affected places, covered by an amber warning, was Merthyr Tydfil. We wanted the return of Storm Gareth, not the disruption of Storm Alex. Then on Monday we had a text to say he would see us the following day and, lo and behold, sometime after 8 o’clock on Tuesday night, he swept through the door as if he had never been away. Great to have him back.

For myself, it was a cheering end to what had been quite a stressful day. Most of the day had been spent in Zoom meetings involving our Passionist Provincial Council; our Local Superiors throughout the Passionist Province (Ireland, Scotland and Paris), and the Province Chapter Commission. With the Chapter having been cancelled last June because of Covid-19, we had to discuss how the Province should continue to function, and what issues had to be addressed, and how, during this interim period. The Chapter has now been rescheduled for next July but, of course, there is no certainty that it will be able to take place even then. 

In between times that day I was being contacted by various newspapers and other media outlets. You will no doubt be aware that there was a high-profile incident involving someone who had attended Mass in St. Mungo’s, and read at that Mass, a couple of Sundays ago. I had no wish to comment on the specific situation except to confirm that this person did attend Mass and that she did read, but also to say that St. Mungo's takes the safety and protection of all its parishioners and all who attend very seriously whenever the church opens for any reason, and that we apply all the protocols meticulously to that end. As most of you will be aware our website clearly says that anyone feeling unwell, or who has any Covid symptoms, should not come to the church, and that there is no obligation to attend Mass during this time. We follow all the guidelines to the letter. At the same time, we appreciate how important it is for people to be able to come to the church for Prayer, for Adoration, for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, and for Mass, during this difficult time, and the great comfort and consolation this can bring to people. It’s a reminder that we are all in this together, co-operating with one another, to keep each other safe, and to protect each other as best we can, and complying with these protocols, and heeding the guidance of our wonderful volunteers, is essential to that.

Last Saturday we celebrated 1st Holy Communions with 10 children from both St. Mungo’s and St. Roch’s Primary Schools. Once again, it was a very different 1st Holy Communion celebration from any other year. With the church being restricted to 50 people, each child could only have 3 people with them, and the rest of the number was made up of teachers and volunteers. The children were not able to sing, read, say prayers or bring up gifts, and yet, somehow, by God’s grace, it was a very prayerful, simple, and moving celebration, and this was commented on by the parents and others who attended. The children had waited a long time for this, the Communions having been postponed from last May, but, at the end of the day, they were very, very happy, and it showed on their faces. This weekend I will have another wedding to celebrate and then, the following weekend, another Baptism. Church life goes on, one way or another, and God is still at work in the lives of us all. Out at Bishopbriggs, as mentioned, we have Father Gareth back with us; Father Justinian is well, and Father Anthony and myself look forward to piling as much work as possible on to Father Gareth’s big shoulders which, from experience, we know he will be all too willing to bear. So, more than ever; protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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Father Frank's Log...

3/10/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 27th SEPTEMBER – 4th OCTOBER 2020

I know that the mystery of my missing mobile phone has become a bit of a soap opera at this stage, but hopefully we can draw a line under it this week. Last Saturday morning I received a letter from the lost property office of Police Scotland to say that someone had handed in a driving licence that looked as if it belonged to me and could I contact them. As it was a Saturday I had to wait until the Monday. As my driving licence had been tucked inside my phone – stupid, I know – I was hoping that the phone was handed in too. On Monday morning I called them and was invited to come in and collect. Unfortunately, it was only the driving licence that had been handed in, which more or less confirmed that someone had the phone, and had discarded the licence. So, now I really have to let it go, and thank St. Anthony for his efforts. The lost property office of Police Scotland is right opposite Glasgow Green so, before returning to St. Mungo’s, I took a walk in the Green for the first time in ages to check out progress on the People’s Palace and Winter Gardens after all the glass had needed to be replaced. It’s one of my favourite places in Glasgow and I hope that it can open again soon.
 
In between times, there was another mystery in St. Mungo’s. On Sunday morning I mistakenly came in the wrong door, not realising that the alarm was still set. I started getting calls from the monitoring company and, eventually, had to accept I would need an engineer’s reset, which wouldn’t be possible until the Tuesday, it being the September Weekend. But then, after the 12 o’clock Mass, a mysterious high-pitched bleep started to sound, more or less at one-minute intervals. At first, I presumed this must be connected to the alarm issue, but preliminary investigations suggested that this was something totally different. Father Antony and I did our best to locate the source of the sound but eventually just gave up, although I was hearing bleeping sounds in my head for the next two days, and even in my sleep. Our maintenance man had the Monday off, but when he came in on Tuesday morning, he went into Sherlock Holmes mode, and I knew he would not rest until he had located and sorted the problem, which of course he did, all by the time the 10am Mass was over.
 
That day was the Feast of the Archangels, and my thoughts went back to a Triduum of Hope, in honour of St. Charles of Mount Argus, that I preached some years back at St. John’s Church in Kilkenny. High above the church was a statue of St. Michael the Archangel, and on either side of the main entrance were carvings of St. Raphael and St. Gabriel, the other Archangels. After celebrating the opening ceremony, I was approached by a Brazilian family who asked me if I would bless their recently born twins. Happy to do so, I asked their names. “Raphael and Gabriel”, they said. So, I have blessed angels in my time. I’m sure the twins must be 12 years old by now, as it wasn’t long after the Canonization of St. Charles in 2007, and every year at this time, on the Feast of the Archangels, I wonder how they are doing.
 
That same day we had the rehearsal for the First Holy Communions which are taking place this weekend. It’s a pity that the children can’t do readings or prayers, or bring up gifts, or sing, but at the end of it all they will have received the Body of Christ for the first time, and can receive this precious and wonderful gift ever after, and that’s the most important thing.
 
Back at the ranch, myself, Father Justinian and Father Antony are all doing okay, nothing new to report from last week. Father Gareth, however, has made enquiries, and is now advised that he can travel back to Scotland without any issues. So, with his mum doing okay, he has made plans to travel back next Tuesday, and, once again, we will be looking forward to seeing him, and to having his unique contribution to our ministry at this present time. Still and all, Father Antony and myself will be watching the news from Wales on a daily basis in the hope that nothing untoward occurs to strand him in Merthyr Tydfil once again.
​
So, as always: protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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    FATHER FRANK KEEVINS C.P.

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