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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

26/10/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 27th OCTOBER - 3rd NOVEMBER 2024

Last week in Rome, at the 48th General Chapter of the Passionists, we elected a new Superior General as the latest successor to St. Paul of the Cross. He is an Italian, Fr. Giuseppe Adobate Carrara (as in the marble). We wish him well and we pray for him. Of more interest to Log readers may be that we also elected six consultors, one for each configuration (region) of the worldwide Passionist Congregation. These come from India; Brazil; Tanzania; Peru; Portugal and, last but not least, Scotland. Yes, our own Father Paul Francis Spencer CP, from Royston, has been elected as the First Consultor on the General Council for the next six years if, as we say, God spares him, and so we congratulate him and pray for him too. As it turns out, he will be the oldest member of the new General Council, whose ages range from 35-70.

Father Paul Francis is at present parish priest at Mount Argus in Dublin, as well as holding a few other roles in our province. He will now have to leave Dublin and go to live in Rome at our mother house of Saints John and Paul on the Caelian Hill, near to the Colosseum. He won’t be an easy man to replace in St. Patrick’s Province where he has been a key player over many years, and, given how thin on the ground we already are, we are now going to be stretched even further. Next June 2025, we will be holding our own Province Chapter, at which we will elect a new Provincial and team, and look to appoint people to various important roles. With someone such as Father Paul Francis now out of the equation, that task will be even more difficult than it was always going to be, and the challenges will be great. More and more, we will look to develop partnerships with our laity, and to welcome more Passionists from other continents, where the members are younger and more numerous, to sustain and develop our mission going forward. Between Scotland, England and Ireland, we have a good number of Indian and African Passionists working with us already, including Father John Varghese here in St. Mungo’s. Of course, we also have a Welshman in St Mungo’s, Father Gareth. In the not-so-distant past, we had a reasonably strong Passionist presence in Wales, but as numbers decreased, we eventually had to close those houses down. One such house was a small retreat centre at St Non’s on the Pembrokeshire coast, a very beautiful location just outside the City of St David. St Non was St David’s mother, and so I always thought that this provided a connection with Glasgow, where we venerate, not just St Mungo, but also his mother Thenew, also known as Enoch. It's said that after he was expelled for a time from Strathclyde, when his life was under threat, St Mungo headed south and eventually came to Pembrokeshire where he met St David, and the two became firm friends.

The Passionists were founded in Italy between 1720 and 1741, by St Paul of the Cross, after a long and painstaking process, but did not grow beyond Italy (apart from a brief, but failed attempt to start a presence in Bulgaria) until the mid-19th Century. In 1840, via a recently formed foundation at Ere in Belgium, Blessed Dominic Barberi arrived in England with a few companions. He became known as the Shepherd of the Second Spring because of the part he played in revitalising the Catholic Faith in England, and is best known for receiving Cardinal John Henry Newman, now a canonized saint, into the Catholic Church. From there the Passionists began to spread, arriving in Ireland in 1856, firstly to Mount Argus in Dublin, then coming to Scotland, and to St Mungo’s, in 1865, and then to Holy Cross in Belfast in 1869. The Congregation is now in every continent, and in over 70 countries throughout the world, as is reflected in the make-up of the new General Council. I’m glad to say that, in recent years, we returned to Bulgaria, and succeeded in establishing a presence there at last.
So, what does the future hold? Who knows? But we trust in the grace of God, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, and we ask, and depend upon, your continuing prayers and support.

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

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father FRANK'S log...

19/10/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 20th – 27th OCTOBER 2024

I am composing the log early this week as I am preparing to head to Dublin for finance meetings in connection with my role as Provincial Bursar for the Passionists of St. Patrick’s Province. It’s a role I have held for almost sixteen years now and one in which I think I suffer from a form of Imposter Syndrome, which is a kind of self-doubt in regard to possessing the necessary skills for the job you are responsible for. You might remember the revelation from his son, around this time last year, that the late, great Michael Parkinson had suffered from this syndrome. Like so many people who would have loved tuning into Parky’s chat shows over the years, and watched him interview personalities from all walks of life, I would never have suspected that he was wracked with self-doubt that he, a working-class lad from Barnsley, was worthy to be in the presence of these hugely famous and talented people. He seemed to do it so effortlessly and brilliantly, always making sure that it was about the interviewee and not about him, unlike many talk show hosts today, in my experience.
I suggest that I might suffer from this syndrome with my tongue slightly in my cheek, but my reason for saying so is that I think I landed this role because I had studied accountancy in my past life.

However, as I often remind people, I studied accountancy in a pre-computer age, which is light years away from the present world of accountancy. I had started studying while working for Olivetti in Queenslie, after being made redundant from the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Clydebank, attending night classes twice a week, and getting day release on a Friday. I began my studies in 1970 at the Glasgow College of Commerce and Distribution, in what had been part of the old Wills cigarette factory in Hanson Street. If memory serves me, I then continued studies in Cathedral Street in 1972, when it was renamed the Central College of Commerce, in what is now part of the City of Glasgow College, where our dear Father Gareth is now chaplain. I finished my studies in 1974-75 in what was then named the Glasgow College of Technology, and what is now the Glasgow Caledonian University. Even the title of my course changed, when what had started out as the Institute of Cost and Works Accountants (ICWA) then became the Association of Cost and Management Accountants (ACMA). I’m sure it will now be called something else altogether. After finishing studies in the summer of 1975, I joined the Passionists that autumn.

When I say it was a pre-computer age, I mean that the ground floor of the Olivetti factory in Queenslie at that time was largely taken up by a massive Data Processing Department, where digital data was stored using punched holes on punch cards, which were then processed through automated machines, manufactured by IBM, resulting in layers and layers of printed out material, which then had to be sifted through meticulously to find whatever information was required. The Data Processing Department would often be working over the weekend so that, on a Monday morning, I would come in and find one or more of these printouts on my desk. These would then determine at least part of what my work was going to entail for the coming week, for example, having to use the data to produce costings for new projects, or sometimes having to ferret out and investigate anomalies, along with a multitude of other tasks that were part of a Cost Accountant’s job at that time. When you think of how much data can now be stored on a tiny little chip these days, you can understand why I would say that my experience was light years away from the world of accountancy today. Probably my only credential for this role now is that I am still quite good at counting. If you need someone to quickly calculate your countdown score from 501 on a dartboard, I’m your man. Beyond that, I’m very grateful to our wonderful provincial secretary in Dublin who understands far better than me what needs to be done and how to do it, and just requires me to give, what I hope looks like an intelligent nod now and again, to vouch agreement. God be with the days!

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

10/10/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 13th – 20th OCTOBER 2024

At the beginning of this month, I heard of the death of a fine lady called Mary O’Rourke, who had been a very prominent politician in Ireland, holding a whole host of portfolios from the early eighties into the late noughties. It brought back a memory from my earliest years as Rector and Parish Priest of Mount Argus in Dublin. Sometime during 2001, my first year in office, I began writing articles for the parish bulletin each week which, I suppose, were the forerunner to what is now called Father Frank’s Log. Sometimes, then as now, I was really scratching around for something to write about, and on one occasion, I think early in 2002, I built an article around an experience in Dublin City Centre when I had been in town collecting holy stuff from Veritas, the Catholic Bookshop in Dublin, and was heading back to Mount Argus to celebrate the Evening Mass. I ended up in a bit of a panic as, after about an hour and a half, I was still standing at the stop, waiting for a bus that should have been part of a regular 15-minute service. Of course, in keeping with the old cliché, but absolutely true nonetheless, when the bus did arrive, there were at least two more arriving at the same time.

I can’t remember now the gist of the article I wrote, except that it was accompanied by a cartoon of a skeleton standing at a bus stop, but after writing it I thought no more about it. Then, however, just a few weeks later, I received a letter from the aforesaid Mary O’Rourke, who at the time was Minister for Public Enterprise, which included the transport portfolio. My article would certainly have been tongue-in-cheek, and mildly humorous, as they usually were, seeking to find God in the mundane and ordinary events of life. But apparently, an elderly parishioner had taken it seriously, and had written an irate letter to the Minister for Transport, i.e. Mary O’Rourke, complaining profusely that the Rector and Parish Priest of Mount Argus should have had to wait an hour and a half for a bus. Perhaps, at that time, the Rector and Parish Priest of Mount Argus would have been held in some esteem, although that would certainly not be the case now in secular Ireland. I then received a very polite and respectful letter from Mary O’Rourke herself, referring to the complaint, and apologising to me profusely, with the expressed hope that I would not have to endure such a long wait ever again. My suspicion was that Mary O’Rourke’s letter was slightly tongue-in-cheek too, and that she understood very well the dynamic that had occurred, being used to receiving all kinds of letters from all kinds of people. Either way, I wrote back, thanked her for her kind concern, and explained the light-hearted nature of the article I had written. I kept her letter as a memento for a long time afterwards, but I don’t have it any more. May she rest in peace.

Letters, in general, have been a bit of a problem in St Mungo’s recently, as we haven’t been receiving any mail through the letter box for a few weeks now. After a period of patient, hopeful, but forlorn waiting, I phoned Royal Mail and was informed that there was a problem with sickness and absence in our local area. I was told that, given the legal obligation on their part to have our mail delivered, we would receive any outstanding post within three working days. In the meantime, however, Father Gareth went over early one morning to the sorting office and was presented with a big pile of accumulated post waiting for us. He, too, was informed that there were simply no postmen, or postwomen available, and asked Father Gareth if he would like a job. Father Gareth declined, although I imagine that he would make a good, jolly postie, traipsing the streets of Townhead with a sack on his back, like a Royal Mail version of Santa Clause. We could get him a sleigh instead of a van. Unfortunately, we haven’t received another scrap of post since, and I imagine we will need to go over to the sorting office again. So, if any parishioner knows who the government minister responsible for the Post Office is, please feel free to write a letter on my behalf, as it’s a bit frustrating.
​
As ever, protect yourself, your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

5/10/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 6th – 13th OCTOBER 2024

As you may have gleaned from previous logs, I am very much an analogue man in a digital age. I am not comfortable with technology and, whenever I do attain some level of comfort, it all changes. Give me pen and paper any day – or even a quill, an ink-well and parchment. Last week, however, I had to go to Carfin Grotto for the AGM of the Conference of Religious in Scotland (CRS). Having had a number of previous experiences of getting lost on the way to Carfin, using an AA route planner, and never seeming to learn from those experiences, I decided that this time I would try my hand, for the very first time, with Google maps. I thought I would have to download it, but then realised it had been on my phone all along. It surprised me how easy it was to access the app, enter my destination, and then get started on receiving directions. I had left in good time, with the presumption that I would get lost, and so, off I set from Bishopbriggs to Carfin on a crisp autumnal morning, which would have been beautiful except for the sun blinding me most of the way. I followed the voice on the app as best I could and, apart from the bamboozling Chapelhall Junction, which seemed to confuse even Google maps, I hardly got lost at all, and ended up at my destination too early.

I wasn’t too concerned about arriving early, because I always enjoy a walk around the shrine area; the sheer variety of saints and blesseds who are represented; the various shrines to Our Lady and, at that time of the morning, the Blessed Sacrament was also exposed for adoration in the Glass Chapel, so the time passed easily and prayerfully. The morning session is usually given over to a guest speaker. On this occasion the intended guest speaker had called off because he got sudden word of an appointment for a knee replacement that he had been anticipating for some time, and he didn’t, understandably, want to lose his slot. He was replaced by Fr Tom Magill from the Archdiocese of Motherwell who, anticipating the second session of the Synod on Synodality, which begins in Vatican City this week, led a session entitled “Conversation in the Spirit: First Fruits of the Synod”. It was very good and initiated some good table discussions, using the synodal method of listening in the Spirit. Mass was then celebrated by the Apostolic Nuncio, Archbishop Miguel Mauria Buendia. He was joined by Bishop Andrew McKenzie and Bishop Francis Dougan. Bishop Joseph Toal had also looked in earlier to greet the religious. Having had the company of two Archbishops and a Bishop at St Mungo’s last Saturday for start of the National Youth Pilgrimage, I haven’t been short of a bishop or two recently. God bless their work. The afternoon in Carfin was given over to CRS business and the journey home passed without any problems.

Last Sunday, driving back to Bishopbriggs from my younger brother’s house in Drumchapel, I turned on BBC Radio Scotland for Off the Ball, a programme I really enjoy, hosted by Tam Cowan and Stuart Cosgrove. I was surprised to discover that their special guest that day was Hugh Keevins, my older brother, doyen of Scottish Sport’s journalists. As Hugh is more associated with a rival programme on a rival station (Superscoreboard on Radio Clyde) I wondered what was going on. I knew that Stuart and Tam had been very supportive of Hugh’s fundraising ventures for autism, because of his two autistic grandchildren, and such associations outstrip any rivalries. As it turned out, however, Hugh was guesting because of a book coming out this week in collaboration with the former Celtic great, Murdo McLeod, called Murdo! Murdo! – based on the chant that used to come from the terraces at Parkhead. Murdo’s health hasn’t been the best in recent years, and this is his autobiography. I know Hugh felt privileged to be asked to collaborate in the writing of it, based on a very long-standing friendship between the two of them and their families. With Stuart and Tam, the conversation ranged over many topics, not just football, but music, family, and life in general. It was very enjoyable. I wonder what my chances are of a free, signed, copy of the book!
​
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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