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  PassionistsGlasgow

November 30th, 2023

30/11/2023

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 26th NOVEMBER – 3rd DECEMBER 2023

Last Sunday, the Solemnity of Christ the King, I concelebrated the final Mass in Saint Roch’s, Garngad, celebrated by Father Thaddeus, the parish priest. That same afternoon he would leave the parish, and then the following day would return home to Nigeria, to his home diocese, to resume his ministry there. It was a very poignant occasion. The church was quite full as the two usual Masses had been combined into one for the occasion, and also, there were people there from other parishes who had come to say their farewells, especially members of the Nigerian community in Glasgow to whom he has been chaplain these past few years. After the Mass, as we stood at the back of the church, there was genuine emotion as people greeted Father Thaddeus for the last time. He was obviously a much-loved pastor.

Although he had been in the Archdiocese of Glasgow for the past thirteen years, he had only taken over as parish priest of Saint Roch’s shortly before I came back from Dublin to take on the same role in Saint Mungo’s, back in 2016. I remember meeting Father Thaddeus at a deanery meeting shortly after that and giving him a lift home afterwards. He struck me then as a good, holy, genuine man, and priest, and that impression never changed over the years. Back in 2019, when we were doing some restoration work here in Saint Mungo’s, he was very helpful in offering Saint Roch’s for funerals, and for any other occasion where we might be in need. But then, he himself had to go into hospital for surgery, requiring significant recouperation time afterwards, and so we found ourselves, at that time, looking after both parishes for some months, until he was able to return. During that time, we got to know the people, and they got to know us, to some extent at least. And that has proved serendipitous now, as last Monday, the day after that final Mass, I was appointed parish priest of Saint Roch’s, as well as of Saint Mungo’s, and the Passionists assumed pastoral responsibility for the parish. There is a certain logic about this as, at some time in the distant past, Saint Roch’s had been founded from Saint Mungo’s, and so it seems that things have gone full circle.

On Monday morning I arrived to say the 10 o’clock Mass in Saint Roch’s, realising that it would take some time to get a feel for how things work there, as no two parishes are ever the same, things will always be done differently. Looking after a parish for a few months, and taking over a parish permanently, are two very different things, and we, the Passionists, and the good people of Saint Roch’s, will need to be very patient with each other as we feel our way forward. Having said that, the welcome that we have received, even amidst the sadness of Father Thaddeus’s departure, has been warm and sincere, and the people seem genuinely delighted and grateful that we have taken on this responsibility. In these times, when there is a whole process of reflection and review going on throughout the Archdiocese, a process called Pathways to Change, with, understandably, certain elements of uncertainty and anxiety surrounding that, as well as elements of anticipation and hope, the fact that pastoral ministry was continuing in the parish seemed to come as some relief. For the moment nothing much will change, either in Saint Roch’s or Saint Mungo’s, until we get our feet under the table, but all of this will need to be looked at going forward. We all appreciate the challenges ahead for the church, here and elsewhere, and we entrust it all to the Holy Spirit, to guide us and lead us in the way ahead. I would ask all you, kind readers of this log, for your prayers as well.

Meantime, in Bishopbriggs, we are all well, bracing ourselves for this unknown future, and facing it with an Advent spirit of looking forward in joyful hope.

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

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father frank's log...

26/11/2023

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 19th – 26th NOVEMBER 2023

At the beginning of this week, we received the sad news of the death of Father Ralph Egan, a Passionist who was part of the community at Mount Argus in Dublin. Father Ralph was a classmate of Father Justinian. Until the recent expansion of the province, the two of them had a running narrative where Father Justinian lay claim to being the senior man in the province by age, being two years older; but Father Ralph lay claim to being the senior man in the province by profession, having taken his first vows as a Passionist a year earlier. Both, however, were ordained on the same day, 21st December 1957.

I have many personal memories of Father Ralph, and I will just mention two of them. I joined the Passionists in 1975. A year earlier, Father Ralph had been appointed the first ever parish priest of Mount Argus in Dublin, one of a number of new parishes established in the Archdiocese of Dublin in 1974, because of a significant growth in numbers, how times have changed! After completing my postulancy at the Graan in Enniskillen, I moved to Dublin in 1976 to begin formal studies. My reputation for being involved in music had gone before me. Before joining the Passionists I had been part of the music team at our then Passionist Retreat Centre at Coodham in Ayrshire. On arriving at the Graan I had been asked to set up a music group there for one of the Sunday Masses, and also to get involved in music ministry for Charismatic Renewal, both at the Graan, and around the surrounding countryside. So it was that, on arriving at Mount Argus, Father Ralph immediately asked me to set up something there in the fledgeling parish. The church in Ireland at that time was still coming to terms with Vatican II and with accommodating the changes in the liturgy. After some chaotic, but exciting beginnings, what emerged as the folk group in Mount Argus would continue in existence, in some shape or form, for the next 40 years, with one member in particular being an ever-present, and a mainstay, throughout that whole time. I had a good relationship with Father Ralph, and I remember travelling with him on the ferry to a Provincial Chapter at Coodham in 1977, when he took time to offer me sage advice that has stood me in good stead over the years.

In 2001 I was the rector and parish priest of St Gabriel’s in Prestonpans, in the Archdiocese of St Andrew’s and Edinburgh, and Father Ralph was the rector and parish priest of Mount Argus in Dublin. However, after a Chapter a few months earlier, we had both been appointed to exchange roles, with Father Ralph coming to Prestonpans, and me going to Mount Argus. We devised a plan that, in the January of that year, he would bring his stuff over in a car from Dublin, and I would take the same car back with my own stuff. I remember well the night he arrived when, after removing his personal belongings from the car, he then produced 2 black bin bags as well. On seeing my quizzical look, he said to me that these were various bits of administration paperwork from Mount Argus that he hadn’t quite got round to attending to before he left, and that he would work on them in Prestonpans and send them back over to me. I’m sure that paperwork was of extremely high importance but, needless to say, I never saw sight of a single scrap of them ever again, and nobody came chasing me for them.

Father Ralph was the loveliest character you could wish to meet, a wonderful story-teller and reciter of poetry, especially in the Irish language. The richness of his voice meant that, for many years, he was often used by the BBC to commentate on major religious services, both on radio and television. He served the Congregation and the Province of St Patrick in a whole variety of ways over the years. He was forever of good humour, welcoming, humble, kind and generous, and he will be sadly missed. May his good soul rest in peace. We commiserate with Father Justinian on the death of his friend and classmate. The rest of us are well.

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

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father frank's log...

18/11/2023

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 12th – 19th NOVEMBER 2023

At the beginning of last week, I made a brief trip over to the North of Ireland for another round of leadership meetings for the newly expanded Passionist Province of St Patrick (Ireland and Britain). It was a full day meeting on Monday and, being unable to find suitable flights, I had decided to travel by ferry on Sunday night, then return by ferry on Monday night. I would have liked to stay over, and have a more relaxed journey but, as we were celebrating Confirmations here in St Mungo’s on the Tuesday night, I had thought it would be wiser to get back the night before. I also prefer, when possible, to do my driving in daylight, but that wasn’t to be. The drive to Cairnryan on the Sunday was uneventful. However, as I was enjoying a cup of tea in the terminal building, after checking in for the 19.30 sailing, I noticed an item coming up on the television screen announcing the imminent arrival of Storm Debi, with a prediction of winds up to 90mph. Where did Storm Debi come from? I hadn’t heard of that one before. It seems that every other day there’s a new storm on the horizon. I wondered if my crossing would be affected, as it was already going to be late enough when I would arrive at our Retreat Centre in County Down. It had been less than two weeks since the nearby town of Downpatrick had been under 4 feet of water in a previous storm, causing untold damage to many homes and businesses, so my concerns were real. As it turned out, the ferry left on time, The captain warned of some turbulent waters but assured us that the ships stabilizers would be operative, and that we should just take care if moving around the boat. I found myself a nice seat and stayed there, reading my book, for most of the journey. The ferry arrived in Belfast on time and I was driving up the avenue of Tobar Mhuire (Mary’s Well) at around 10.30pm, which was great. There was a very welcoming log fire burning in the sitting room, so I spent a short time with the brethren, enjoying a nightcap and a chat, before heading to bed, in readiness for the next day’s serious business.

Our meetings, I imagine, had a similar agenda to the meetings of most religious orders and dioceses at this time. How do we manage our diminishment? What choices need to be made? How do we move forward hopefully and creatively? How do we do this in a Synodal Way, in collaboration with those who share in our charism, both lay and religious? What is the Holy Spirit saying to us? Where is the Holy Spirit leading us? What do we need to do to respond? It was a good day overall. Gradually, the Passionists of Ireland and Scotland, and the Passionists of England and Wales, are coming to know and trust each other more and more, meaning that our conversations are more real and honest, and this was very much reflected in this gathering. At 5.00pm the meeting finished, and I got on the road immediately to Belfast for the 19.30 return ferry. Storm Debi was still lurking, but to no great effect as far as my journey was concerned. On arrival at Cairnryan, I made great progress home, thinking I would make it before midnight, but then, just 3 miles from the Glasgow City Centre, I was dazzled by a multitude of traffic cones and road closures for late night works. I just couldn’t find a route home. I ended up on the south side of the city and came through the Clyde Tunnel, onto the Clydeside Expressway, only to be faced with more traffic cones and road closures. I headed north and somehow ended up on Sauchiehall Street. I couldn’t believe how busy it was in the wee hours of Tuesday morning, which it now as, being after midnight. Eventually, I made it back to Bishopbriggs. I, almost obsessively, have to unpack after every journey before going to bed but, on this occasion, I was far too tired. I just crawled under the sheets and fell fast asleep, seeing storms and traffic cones in my dreams – or was it my nightmares? Tuesday was mostly about getting ready for the Confirmations which, despite the usual chaos in the hour or so leading up to the celebration, went very smoothly, thanks to the calm guidance of Archbishop Nolan, and to the grace and power of the Holy Spirit.

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

11/11/2023

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 5th – 12th NOVEMBER 2023

We have been happy to welcome a visitor to our community in Bishopbriggs in recent times. He is a Passionist priest from India who is at present stationed at Highgate in London. He has to do his UK driving test and, for all kinds of good and practical reasons, he is going to do it here. He has already passed his theory test, and now he is undertaking driving lessons, almost on a daily basis, sometimes twice a day, to get him ready for the test, which I have no doubt he will pass. Father Gareth and Father John have also been taking him out regularly for practice sessions. When I ask him how things are going, his response makes me very aware that the driving test now is so much different than from when I took my own test. In those days the theory exam was carried out by a series of oral questions at the end of the test itself. If the examiner started asking you the theory questions, then you at least knew that you had passed the practical test as, if you had failed, he wouldn’t even bother asking you the theory questions. There is now also something called independent driving, where the examiner can just ask you to follow signs to a particular destination, or else to follow directions on a Satnav. Those aspects of the test certainly didn’t exist back then either. Neither did bay parking, if I remember correctly, a sign of changing times. Having been an experienced driver at home in India, my colleague had interesting accounts of how the instructor was helping him rid himself of certain driving habits that were not the accepted way of doing things here, which gave me the opportunity to reflect on my own driving habits acquired down through the years – whether bad habits or experienced habits may be debatable.

I didn’t take my driving test until I was almost 30. Growing up in Partick, and then moving to Drumchapel, nobody ever had a car in the family and so, learning to drive was something I never had the opportunity to do. My familiar modes of transport were the tram, the bus, the Underground, the Govan Ferry and Shanks’s pony. When I joined the Passionists in 1975, my primary concern was to learn how to ride a bike, another skill I had never acquired. My student days would be all about cycling to and from the Milltown Institute of Philosophy and Theology, about a 4-mile journey from our student house in Mount Argus. How I survived those journeys in the crazy Dublin traffic, and with my own erratic cycling, I will never know. It had to be divine providence or, as I reflected recently, my guardian angel.

When I went to the Novitiate in 1979, just after Pope John Paul II’s visit to Ireland, I was advised that I should learn to drive. At first, I was given lessons by one of my classmates. The Novitiate was then, and still is, at Crossgar in County Down, so I was learning to drive around a relatively rural setting, with the biggest town being Downpatrick, about 5-miles away. I seemed to take to driving without much difficulty, except for one manoeuvre, and that was reversing round a corner. Emergency stop, hill start, 3-point turn, none of these was ever an issue, but reversing round a corner became a mental block for me. As it got nearer the time of my test, my classmate gave way to a professional driving instructor. He would always bring me to this one place, and tell me that this was where they would bring me during the test. But always, I ended up on the pavement, or in the middle of the road, either of which would be sure to fail me. The driving test centre was in a quaintly named place called the Flying Horse. Everything went relatively smoothly but, in the back of my mind, I knew my jinxed manoeuvre was still to come. However, when we reached the dreaded corner, a delivery truck was taking up the whole space, and so we needed to go somewhere else. The mental block disappeared, and I reversed round the corner perfectly. Again, it could only be divine providence, or my guardian angel. Either way, with a huge feeling of relief and delight, back at the centre, I was asked the theory questions, and I passed, first time. Whether I would pass first time now, I’m not so sure, but, no doubt, eventually I would get there.
​

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

4/11/2023

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 29th OCTOBER – 5th NOVEMBER 2023

The month of November began with a little bit of drama. After the celebration of the 10 a.m. Mass for the Solemnity of All Saints, I headed out to a local post office to carry out a couple of transactions, one for the Passionists and one for my brother. I was delighted, on entering, to find the place empty, as I thought my transactions might take a little time, and I don’t like keeping any customers behind me waiting. However, half-way through the first of my transactions the security alarm began to sound. There was no drama as the person attending to me seemed to realise immediately that the panic button had been pressed by mistake by a youngster on work experience. The only concern now was how to get it turned off. Having experienced, many times, our security alarm going off at the old house in St. Mungo’s for no apparent reason, and not having a clue how to silence it, I had the greatest sympathy with the assistant. She was doing a great balancing act of still trying to attend to me, while at the same time calling her boss and, on another phone, calling the security alarm company. I had great sympathy also with the young person on work experience who, although seemingly unperturbed about the whole thing, must have been very embarrassed. In the meantime, a number of other customers had arrived, and some neighbouring shopkeepers also came in, to ask if the alarm could not be turned off. It really was quite deafening. Then the police arrived. As I was the person standing at the counter, I was a wee bit concerned that I might come under suspicion and immediately be clapped in irons, but the assistant quickly put the officer’s mind at rest that it was all just a mistake. Still, he had to come through and take details. My transactions were taking even longer than I imagined. How the assistant kept her cool, her concentration, and her count, was beyond me. She was obviously well equipped, and well able to handle such situations. Eventually, after I got everything done, I thanked her, and sympathised with her profusely. As I made my way out, I received a few menacing looks from some of the other customers who may also have thought that I was somehow to blame. I tried to look suitably apologetic, but I was glad to get out and back to the church.

On the Feast of All Souls, I was recalling a time when I was secretary to, what was then called, the North European Conference of Passionists. It involved going to an annual meeting in one of the membership countries, taking the minutes, and writing up a report. These meetings would last 3 or 4 days, but there was always a half-day free when the host province would bring the members out for some cultural experience. The one that stands out most in my mind was when we went to Warsaw in Poland. In France we had been taken to a beautiful vineyard; in Germany we went to a beer garden during Oktoberfest; in England (Minsteracres in Northumberland) we visited Hadrian’s Wall; and in the Netherlands we were brought to Maastricht where the European Union Treaty was signed in 1992. In Poland they brought us to a cemetery! It was the eve of All Souls, in other words it was still All Saints’ Day, but it was after dark. When we arrived at the cemetery, we were given lamps, which we then placed on the graves of deceased Passionists. But it wasn’t just us. There were hundreds and hundreds of people in this cemetery placing lamps on their loved ones’ graves. The overall effect was powerful, beautiful and poignant. It brought to mind those beautiful prayers and readings that we associate with funerals, that speak about the darkness of death giving way to the bright light of eternal life; and that death is not a door into some kind of eternal darkness, but simply a dark door we must pass through into the light of God’s love. To see all these lamps shining out in the darkness made that all seem very real. So, as much as I enjoyed the fruits of the vineyard; the beer steins of Oktoberfest; the ancient Hadrian’s Wall (built, of course, to keep out the lawless barbarians of Scotland – so much for that!); and the historic Maastricht – the cemetery in Warsaw will be the experience I will always most remember.

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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