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  PassionistsGlasgow

father frank's log...

14/12/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 15th – 22nd DECEMBER 2024

I was watching a crime drama with my brother recently, in which the senior detective thought that the junior detective was just a wee bit too sure of himself. He suggested to him that what he lacked was experience, because the more experience you acquire, he said, the humbler you become. That struck me as being very true.
I was reminded of a story that I heard almost 40 years ago. Three years after I was ordained, I was asked by our Provincial to participate in a year-long Formation Ministry Programme, with the intention of taking up a role as director of our postulants at Mount Argus in Dublin. Postulancy is one of the early stages of formation in religious life. I had spent those first three years after ordination in St Mungo’s, mainly as Vocations Director for the Passionists in Scotland, but also as part of a small mission and retreat team, travelling the length and breadth of the country as itinerant preachers. I was very happy in both of those roles, and I was also very happy being based in St Mungo’s, where we had a really good community of eleven Passionists; ten priests and one brother, engaged in a variety of works, and very much enjoying each other’s company. It was also good to be back near family again.

It was a bit of a wrench, then, to uproot so soon, and to embark on this new venture. There were thirty of us on the course, twenty women and ten men, from fifteen different countries, and five different continents. They would turn out to be some of the best people I ever met, and a joy to be with. The ethos of the course was that, if we were to make a journey of discernment with young people entering religious life, then we had to be able to make that same journey within ourselves. The story I referred to earlier was told to us at the beginning of the course. It concerned a young religious who had been sent out as a foreign missionary to Africa, where they would be living and working with a more senior religious who had been there for thirty years. The junior was looking forward to learning from all those years of experience acquired by the older religious. However, it didn’t take the young religious long to discover that, far from having thirty years of experience, all the older religious had was one year of experience repeated thirty times. There had been no learning, no growth, no wisdom and, sadly, no humility. That story set the tone for how we would try to approach this privileged year of engaging in that journey of deep spiritual and personal discovery, a journey that, I hope, at the end of the day, made us all a bit humbler.
​
One of my favourite characters on the course was a big, gentle giant of an Irishman, sadly since deceased, who would later take on a major leadership role in his Congregation, and have to deal with some very difficult issues. For a number of years after the course, a number of us would meet up for an annual reunion, our gentle giant included, and he had emerged from our course with a catch-phrase that we all took on board, and which I think reflected that sense of humility. “I don’t always get it right”, he would say, “and that’s okay”. If experience teaches us anything, it’s that we can’t always get it right, but if we are doing the best we can then, even if we get it wrong, that’s okay. I am over 41 years ordained now, and hopefully that’s 41 years of experience, and not just one year repeated 41 times. I know I have made lots of mistakes during that time, and didn’t always get it right, but that’s okay. Something I didn’t get right recently was the date and time of our Advent Reconciliation Service in St Roch’s. Not only did I manage to clash with a big football match, but it was also a night of freezing fog. There were 8 people in the church, and four of them were Passionists. But that was okay – the mercy of God flowed in abundance, as all it takes is two or more. The log will take a wee break now until the New Year. Have a Happy and Blessed Christmas.

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

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father frank's log...

8/12/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 8th – 15th DECEMBER 2024

I ended last week’s log by lamenting that I had a really bad head cold which may or may not have been connected to the winter vaccines I had received at the beginning of that week. As I write this week, my cold lingers on despite my best efforts to dose myself with paracetamol; suck endless Strepsils; take plenty of fluids, and get to bed as early as possible. As usual, the common cold will stubbornly take its own time, no matter what I do. There was one day, mind you, when I woke up feeling quite good, but then made the mistake of deciding to change all my bedding, at the end of which I was totally exhausted and back to square one. So, my sincere apologies to all those good people in St Mungo’s and St Roch’s who have had to listen to me croaking and sniffling my way through Mass each day.

Last Friday, being driven back from a funeral in the hearse, the driver asked me if I was going home to write my sermon for Sunday. It turned out that his father is a deacon who regularly sits down and writes out his sermons for the following Sunday. I was reminded that this was something I used to do in my diaconate and in the early years of my priesthood. I would sit down and write out, longhand, every word of my homilies, sometimes taking great care to use just the right word if there were a variation of terms that could be used. I would try to ensure I had a beginning, a middle, and an end, and then I would learn the whole thing off by heart before preaching it. The challenge was to try and make it come across very naturally, and not as something learned and repeated by rote. I even used to do this with retreat talks, mission sermons, and lectures, which were all much longer than homilies. I came near to fitting the image of the priest in the Paul McCartney song, Eleanor Rigby - Father McKenzie, writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear - no one comes near. In those days of course, lots of people came near and would hear, with very healthy attendances in both Scotland and Ireland. I still have a folder of retreat talks I gave to Passionists in Botswana on my first trip to Africa. It took ages to write them out in longhand, and I can see now how neat and legible my handwriting was then – but not now!

For a long time now, I approach homilies in a very different way, and I seldom write a single word down, except for funerals, when there may be details of a person’s life that I don’t want to get wrong. Usually, I peruse the Sunday readings on the previous Monday, and then I mull them over in my mind throughout the week, even in my bed. One of my favourite scripture texts is from Psalm 69 – on my bed I remember you, on you I muse through the night – and so I do just that, I muse through the night, drifting in and out of sleep, while asking the grace of the Holy Spirit to help me form some thoughts that would be helpful, both to me, and to those who might listen. Sometimes the Holy Spirit acts quickly. Most times the Holy Spirit keeps me waiting, and often it’s quite late in the week when I feel I have received a word.

You might think that this is not a very good formula for having a good night’s sleep. However, I think the opposite. If I wasn’t remembering the Lord on my bed, musing through the night, or pondering on my pillow, I would no doubt be thinking of a host of other things to keep me awake. There is no shortage of issues, whether as a parish priest, a bursar, a family member, or just as a human being, to preoccupy oneself, and to create, what is sometimes referred to as a monkey-mind, random thoughts and worries, swinging from one branch to another, and going nowhere. Most times in my musing, I end up with a good night’s sleep, depending on how many times, as a 73-year-old man, I have to get up through the night. But usually, when I wake up in the morning, there is some holy and wholesome thought or idea in my mind, that wasn’t there when I first lay down, thanks to 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...

1/12/2024

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 1st – 8th DECEMBER 2024

I’m sorry that there was no Log last week, but Father Gareth, Brother Conor and me, had to travel to Crossgar for yet another Province meeting in preparation for next year’s Provincial Chapter. It was an interesting journey. Father Gareth was the designated driver and we had booked his car on to the Cairnryan-Belfast ferry a couple of weeks before. A couple of days before we travelled, however, he was having a problem with the driver’s window being stuck on open, and he wasn’t able to close it. Given that freezing temperatures were being forecast over those days, he went in search of someone who could fix it. As a result, our Friday night fish & chip session was interrupted by a vehicle electrician who had come to the rescue, and managed to do the needful. So far, so good. But then, the day before we travelled, this was the Sunday, Father Gareth discovered that his windshield blower wasn’t working, and so he couldn’t get any air up on to his windscreen. Once again, conscious of the ominous weather forecasts, he went in search of a garage open on a Sunday who might fix it for him. At the sixth attempt he found someone. When he went back to collect it, however, they told him that, while it was sorted, if he encountered any problems, just to give the dashboard a bash with his fist and it would get going again. This was turning into an episode of Mr Bean.

The journey to the ferry, as far as Girvan, went okay. As usual, we could see we were going to be too early for check-in, and so we took time out and went into a little café for something to eat. On resuming the journey, the blower had stopped working again and so, as I was in the front passenger seat, I gave the dashboard a bash with my fist. At the third go we got some air again, and proceeded happily to Cairnryan. After a short waiting time at the terminal, we were called back to our car to prepare for boarding. Once again, the dashboard needed a bash to get the blower going again. As we were boarding, someone, unfortunately, had a fall on the car deck, and so our departure was delayed while the ferry’s medical team attended to him. We left about 45 minutes late. I was glad I had brought a good novel, and a compendium of crosswords with me that helped to pass the time. Of course, I knew what was going to happen when we arrived in Belfast – the blower wouldn’t work. At this stage it was raining and the blower was being more stubborn, So, not wanting to get on to the M2 motorway with a misted windscreen, through which Father Gareth wasn’t able to see a thing, we diverted on to the Shore Road and pulled into a lay-by. A few more bashes got us going again, and we made it safely to Crossgar, albeit by a longer route, and arriving a wee bit later than intended. We were very grateful for a lovely dish of lasagne waiting for us when we got there, which we enjoyed immensely. After an early night, the next day’s meetings went smoothly, and we set ourselves for the journey back. We knew now that, once the blower got going, it would be fine. It was when we stopped that there might be a problem. So, we built this wisdom into our return and arrived back to Bishopbriggs in the wee hours of Wednesday without a hitch.

Earlier this week I went to Stobhill Hospital for my winter vaccines and, while it all went very smoothly, I have been feeling rotten since. I don’t have any pain in my arms, but I feel as if I have a really bad head cold. Hopefully, it will have cleared by the weekend as we get ready for the beginning of Advent and the introduction of the new lectionary for readings at Mass. Last week a great number of readers from St Mungo’s and St Roch’s came together and we had a very productive night exploring the whys and wherefores of the change, and the difference it could make to hearing and proclaiming the Word of God at Mass. At this stage we are keeping an open mind, and there is no doubt the lectionaries are beautifully produced and presented. And so, Advent is a new beginning in more ways than one this year.

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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