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FAther frank's log...

12/4/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 29th NOVEMBER – 6th DECEMBER

This morning, for the first time this year, I awoke to snow outside and had to scrape snow from the car before coming into the church. I’m not sure how bad it will get, but it got me to
thinking about my worst, and perhaps best experiences of snow over the years.
 
On the Feast of the Epiphany, 1982, while I was a senior student at Mount Argus in Dublin, I had to bring one of the Passionist Community, Brother Paul, to the Passionist Retreat Centre at Crossgar in County Down, to which he had just been transferred. At the same time, one of our Passionist Postulants was finishing a post-Christmas retreat in Crossgar. The idea was that I would bring Brother Paul, with all his meagre belongings, to his new abode; stay
overnight, and then bring our postulant back to Dublin. On the morning of January 7th, we awoke to 3 feet of snow after a heavy overnight fall. The postulant was keen to get back to Dublin as there was to be a family gathering that night to bid farewell to his brother, who was leaving to take up a new job in America the following day. I phoned the AA who advised that, if I drove slowly and carefully, I should get back to Dublin safely, and so off we set.
 
We hadn’t gone too far when a snow blizzard started. This blizzard was to last for the next 36 hours. I had set out on a route through a place called Hilltown in County Down, taking us through Newry to Dundalk and then on to Dublin. Hilltown is appropriately named as the road is a series of peaks and troughs which became more and more treacherous the further we travelled. At one stage I became aware that there was a line of traffic behind me, and that I was the lead car they were all following in the hope that I would lead them safely. I had no notion at this stage whether I was on the left, the centre, or the right of the road; and each time I cam to the brow of a hill I wondered what I would encounter coming towards me. Eventually we got to Newry, but then decided we would try and get over the border into Dundalk and review the situation. When we reached Dundalk, with nerves frayed, we opted to stay the night and see how things were the following morning. My colleague would miss the family gathering but hopefully still be home to wave his brother off. Next day, slowly and carefully, we set out again. The blizzard wasn’t as bad and the roads were better, although we passed a number of cars that had been abandoned in snow drifts. At Balbriggan we were told that the Dublin Road would be closed until the next day, but then we heard that they were
letting people through and we took the chance. Finally, we made it back in one piece.
 
Later that same year I had moved to Rome for my diaconate year in preparation for
Ordination. There was a Passionist General Chapter on at the time with participants from all over the world. On one of the free days there was a trip to the Shrine of St. Gabriel at Isola del Gran Sasso. I went with them and as we came out of a newly constructed tunnel through the Gran Sasso mountain the snow was deep on the ground. It looked stunningly beautiful, and I remember there were some Filipino Passionists who had never experienced snow, who asked that the bus would stop so that they could get out and touch the snow and feel it in their hands, which they did with the excitement and wonder of children.
 
Another memory was in the early noughties when I attended a meeting at a Passionist
Monastery in Austria, which was situated next to a ski slope. With no intention of skiing I ascended the mountain in a chair lift. To this day it remains my most profound experience of silence, and it was also my first and only experience of dry snow, as I waded knee deep to a small war time chapel on the mountain, and never got wet.  My most recent encounter with heavy snow was in 2017, not long after my return to Saint Mungo’s, when, you may
Remember, I was stranded here at the church and had to sleep in the office for two nights
because I was unable to make it home to Bishopbriggs.

What will this pandemic year’s snow bring? Who knows? Just keep protecting yourselves, others, and Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

11/27/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 22nd – 29th NOVEMBER
​
Last Sunday morning, at our community house in Bishopbriggs, we switched on our laptops, expecting to watch the inauguration of the Jubilee Year to mark the 300th anniversary of the Passionist Congregation, beginning with the opening of the Holy Door at the beautiful
basilica of Saints John and Paul, adjoining our Passionist Monastery and Mother House in Rome, of the same name. The ceremony was scheduled to start on YouTube at 10.15 a.m. Rome time, and 9.15 a.m. our time, but cometh the hour nothing happened. Around 9.30 a.m. we switched to Facebook and managed to get the procession from the monastery to the church, and the solemn opening of the door, but then gave up on it.
 
At 10.15 a.m. Father Gareth said that he and Father Antony were going out for a walk along the canal and would I like to join them.  Against my better instincts, I said I would. We set out shortly afterwards with Father Gareth leading the way. The weather was very pleasant, but there were some ominous black clouds overhead. Now, you may know, I am around
5 foot 6 inches small, and both of those guys are well over 6 feet tall. This meant that, for every two strides of theirs, I was taking at least three strides. They were also walking at a faster rate than I normally would, so I felt like a wee Scottish highland terrier trotting along behind them, trying to keep up with the pace. Father Gareth, preferring to walk on solid ground, also chose a different, longer route, to get to the canal than I would, leading us by
major roads almost into Torrance. Even then, when we reached the path leading onto the Forth and Clyde Canal, Father Antony suggested that we continue on and take the path along the River Kelvin, as it would be quieter, to which we all agreed. I grew up beside the Kelvin, in Partick, but I had never been this far along its flow. This turned out to be a rather narrow, muddy path, not to Father Gareth’s liking at all. But it was quiet, and it was beautiful, and part of the way along we were delighted to see, arcing in the sky above us, a double rainbow. We stopped and pondered for a few moments, and then the heavens opened. There was little shelter to be had and so we just kept going. Thankfully it was only a shower and it passed over quickly. Eventually, we arrived at a path that would bring us through Cadder Golf Course, the main artery of which would take us back towards the canal, and then home.
Unfortunately, there was a steep and treacherous mud slide to be negotiated to get on to this path. This was even less to Father Gareth’s liking, which I could understand as, being a big man, he could have done himself some serious damage if he went crashing down. With
mumblings of never listening to Father Antony again, he let the two of us go on ahead. With some difficulty Father Antony and I made it safely down. We were afraid to look back, but when we did, there was Father Gareth striding along a totally different part of the golf course, in search of concrete and clay beneath his feet, instead of mud. Eventually, he joined us along the main artery where the greatest danger was from flying golf balls as there were a number of players out enjoying a Sunday morning round. When we crossed over the canal and drew nearer to home, Father Gareth sent us on ahead while he made his way to Poundland in the retail park. I think he needed a remedial dose of Turkish Delights to recover.
 
Arriving home, I decided to try YouTube again. The broadcast had started around 10.30 a.m. our time, and began at the Gospel of the Mass. I watched it from there to the end, delighted by some stunning shots of the basilica, and especially of the ceiling, as the camera spanned around during Holy Communion. The basilica is built over the house of the early Christian martyrs, John and Paul, but happily, the founder of the Passionists (Paul of the Cross) and his brother (John Baptist), considered by many as the co-founder, were also called John and Paul. So, now the Jubilee has begun, and we are hoping and praying for a blessed year ahead, for ourselves and for all of our Passionist Family, all of you who are connected to us in any way, one in the Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Please pray with us and for us and, as always, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

11/19/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 15th – 22nd NOVEMBER 2020
​
Last Wednesday I was all set to have my molar removed. I left the church in the early afternoon and drove home. I deposited the car at the house and walked to the dentist in the village, wet and cold as it was, just in case I couldn’t drive after. I wasn’t looking forward to the extraction, but I was all geared up for it, and looking forward to it all being over. I even had some nice soup on standby as I imagined I wouldn’t be eating solids for a while. I arrived at the dentist and took my solitary seat in the waiting area. While I was waiting someone appeared at the door with a delivery. It may have been a delivery of false teeth from what I gathered of the conversation, but thankfully they weren’t for me. I couldn’t help but listen to more of the conversation between the courier and the dental receptionist, about how the practice would be affected by level 4 lockdown. The dental practice, I gathered, was still waiting for clarification from the British Dental Association, but was expecting to remain open for essential services, but not for non-essential services, which I took to be the more cosmetic side of things. I always have trouble explaining to our auditors that when Facial Beauty, or some such term, comes up on my credit card statement, that it was only a dental check-up, or a filling, and that it would take more than a dentist to make this face beautiful.
 
Eventually, I was summoned to the treatment room, and settled myself in the chair. The dentist poked around for a while and then asked had I seen my scans from the previous visit, which I hadn’t, so she asked me to come and have a look. To cut a long story short, she was a bit anxious about carrying out the procedure, as she was the only dentist there on that particular day. Her expectation was that this would be a tricky extraction as there was more filling than tooth. The likelihood was that the molar would crumble when extraction began and, in such circumstances, she preferred that the lead dentist be also there to assist if the need arose. Having had a previous bad experience, as described in an earlier log, I was willing to agree to a postponement, just to be on the safe side, after being assured that this would be considered essential surgery, and not fall victim to lockdown. So, now I have another appointment for two weeks hence. I’m sure the soup will last, and I had a combination of pizza and haggis pakora instead, followed by a big bar of Whole Nut.
 
Of course, in Saint Mungo’s, we had to make plans for level 4 lockdown as well. With only 20 people allowed in the church for Mass, or for any other form of prayer or worship, at any one time. It will be difficult to manage. Many of our regulars, as well as many of our volunteers, come from other local authorities and they are not supposed to travel into Glasgow, so we will have to see how that works out. Even myself, Father Gareth and Father Antony, have to travel from another local authority, but we are permitted to do so. In the event, we have put on some extra Masses, and we will just do our best to have a fair process to help as many people as possible to attend Mass, who wish to, at least once in the week.
 
On this Sunday, 22nd November, we Passionists begin our Solemn Jubilee Year to commemorate and celebrate the 300th anniversary of our Congregation. On imparting his Apostolic Blessing upon the entire Passionist Family, Pope Francis has entrusted us to Mary, the Mother of the Crucified One, a figure of the Church, a Virgin who listens, prays, offers, and generates life; and who is the permanent memory of Jesus, especially of his Passion. He also invoked the intercession of St. Paul of the Cross, our founder, and of all our Passionist Saints and Blesseds, and included in his Apostolic Blessing, all who will participate in our various celebrations throughout the Jubilee. We are very conscious of all who are involved with us, in so many ways, as being part of our Passionist Family, and so grateful for the encouragement and support you give us. We will keep you informed as to how you can celebrate with us throughout the year. Meantime, as we enter into a new phase of lockdown, protect yourselves, protect your loved ones and others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

11/12/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 8th – 15th NOVEMBER 2020
​
The first reading for today’s mass (Thursday) was from St. Paul’s letter to Philemon, and I was struck by the verse in which Paul makes the point that he is writing this letter by his own hand. I suppose, by that, he meant that normally he would have dictated his letters to Luke or to some other scribe, but that he wanted this letter to be more personal. It made me think of how, back in the day, I used to be quite a prolific letter writer, by my own hand, to family and friends, but then I acquired, in turn, a typewriter; a word processor; a computer and, finally, a mobile phone, so that, now, writing by my own hand has become almost a thing of the past. 

Even writing personal letters has become a thing of the past, having mostly given way to texts and emails. Long gone are the days of going to W.H. Smiths to buy Basildon Bond notepaper and envelopes – blue, cream or white – and enjoying the feel of a good Parker pen in my hand; letting the words flow from the heart, to the head, to the pen, and then on to the paper, before affixing the stamp, popping it into the post box, and then patiently waiting. How long would it take to get there? How would what I had written be received by the family member or friend to whom it was addressed? How long would it take the other person to reply? When would I receive the reply? What would their news be? There was something of value in that, I believe, in the grace of waiting, of not expecting everything to happen instantly, in the anticipation, the expectation, and then the joy of receiving the response.

I also used to take great care to ensure that my writing was neat and legible but now, whenever I do write by my own hand, I get a shock to seek how much I struggle to make it out myself, never mind expecting anybody else to make it out. In the early days of my religious life and priesthood, and for quite some years afterwards, I would write out my homilies, mission sermons, retreat talks and class lectures to students, by my own hand. Even though it took much longer, I always felt that there was a greater connection between what I was trying to say, and what I felt was important to say, when I put it down longhand, and that there was a disconnect, something less satisfactory, when I did this by more mechanical means. I was also less inclined to make mistakes. I remember the first portable typewriter that I acquired, which I am ashamed to say was not an Olivetti, even though I happily worked for Olivetti for 5 years, during the development of the golf ball typewriter; but, I went instead for a Brother with a black and white ribbon, the white being a corrector ribbon because I knew I was prone to errors, as indeed I still am, especially when composing texts on the mobile phone. Reluctantly, over the years, I gave way to more modern means of communication, but I was always the last of my peers to surrender, and I still have the feeling that something has been lost in the process, and that I remain a bit of a luddite with regard to technology.

St. Paul of the Cross, the founder of the Passionists, wrote thousands of letters in his time, many hundreds of which remain, and have been gathered into a three-volume collection. At one stage his handwriting was submitted for graphological analysis, without the handwriting expert knowing who they were analysing, and these are some of the things that were said: “The writer thinks with his emotions, more than reason; is determined, compassionate, expressive and has a responsive personality; open-minded, with a high degree of perception; is intuitive; difficult to understand at times because logic is disregarded and the heart of the matter is taken out of sequence; careful, loyal; very introspective; sometimes melancholic; experiences some mental conflict regarding his own self dignity; is analytical, sensitive, and secretive, in that he reserves facts and keeps confidences… a man you could depend on”
From what we know of St. Paul of the Cross, that is very accurate. It would be a pity if graphology also became a thing of the past because people no longer write by their own hand.
Back in Bishopbriggs all are well, thanks be to God, with nothing to report. So, as always,
protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, protect others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

11/6/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 1st – 8th NOVEMBER 2020
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I’m sure many people will know that popular children’s song, accompanied by actions – head and shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes), eyes, and ears, and mouth, and nose, head and shoulders, knees and toes (knees and toes). I was thinking that Father Frank’s Log has been a bit like that at times. I’ve written about my feet; my back; my eyes; my ears; and even my prostate. Old age, as they say, doesn’t come on its own. This week it’s my teeth that are the topic. On one of the very first days of lockdown, way back in March, I was heading out to the car to come into the church when, suddenly and unexpectedly, I could feel in my mouth, that a big chunk of filling had come out of one of my molars. Normally, I would have called my dentist right away to have it seen to but, with lockdown underway, that wasn’t an option. So, for the past seven months I have been trying to nurse this tooth along, conscious of the big gaping hole that I could excavate with my tongue, very conscious of occasional pain and tenderness, and wondering what damage was being done.
 
Then, just last Thursday, I had a text from my dentist, informing me that dental examinations were resuming this week, and so I made an appointment for the following Tuesday, the earliest appointment available. Unfortunately, the damage was done, and the tooth was beyond redemption. I’m sure there is a moral lesson in there about decay, and postponing for too long those things in our lives that should have been put right much sooner but, in this instance, Covid-19 and lockdown had made that impossible. Root canal treatment was ruled out; there wasn’t enough tooth left to rebuild; leaving it and doing nothing would be too big a risk, and so, reluctantly, my dentist recommended extraction, and that’s what will happen in a couple of weeks from now. As Oor Wullie or the Broons would have said, “Help ma boab!”. It’s a long time since I had a tooth out and I’m not looking forward to it. Memories of the Broons extracting aching teeth by tying one end of a piece of string around the tooth, and the other end to a door handle, then slamming the door shut, crossed my mind as an option. Needless to say, I have had offers from Father Gareth, Father Antony and others, to get the pliers out and do a homer but, wisely I think, I have declined all such offers.
 
The last time I remember getting a tooth out was when I was still working in Olivetti in the early 1970’s. The tooth had an abscess, very painful, so I phoned my dentist. However, no appointment was available for a couple of weeks and I was advised to make my way to the Dental Hospital and School in Sauchiehall Street. My boss at the time told me to get going, and I vaguely remember filling in forms and waiting in a queue until I was eventually taken. Once again, extraction was the only option. I’m not too sure who actually carried out the surgery, but I do remember a number of students gathered around and observing. It was a great relief to get the tooth out, but afterwards I contracted an infection that required remedial treatment and antibiotics, with the pain for a time even worse than the toothache. So, as you can imagine, I am a little bit anxious. However, I have great trust in my dentist, and I’m sure all will be well. I will just need to learn to chew on the other side of my mouth.
 
Yesterday, I received delegation from the Archbishop to confer the Sacrament of Confirmation on the children from St. Mungo’s and St. Stephen’s who were scheduled to receive the Sacrament last March, and who have now moved on to various secondary schools. For the same length of time that I had to wait to get my tooth examined, they have had to wait for their Confirmation. Despite the Coronavirus restrictions again making the celebration very different from what would have expected and hoped for, at the end of the day, these young people will have received the fullness of the Holy Spirit for the living of their Christian lives, and it will be a privilege for me to confer that upon them. Otherwise, all are well out at Bishopbriggs with nothing much to report. No news is good news. So, as always,
protect yourselves, protect your loved ones, protect others, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

10/30/2020

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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...

10/22/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 18th – 25th OCTOBER 2020
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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...

10/15/2020

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

10/8/2020

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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...

10/3/2020

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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.
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So, as always: protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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September 26th, 2020

9/26/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG:20th – 27th SEPTEMBER 2020
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Sadly, to report, even Saint Anthony has been confounded by my lost or stolen mobile phone; but, as I am discovering in today’s 1st Reading from Chapter 3 of the Book of Ecclesiastes, within the context of a time for every purpose under heaven, there is a time also for searching and a time for losing, and I have to accept now that the time for searching is over, and that this is a time for losing, and that there is some purpose to the losing under heaven. I have now procured a new mobile phone, retaining the same number, but everything else was wiped, so I have to start building up all my contacts again, and start from scratch for everything else that was on the phone. It’s a bit of a pain, but it has to be done.
 
I think one purpose under heaven was to try and teach me a very important lesson. I rush around far too much doing far too many things. Like Martha of Bethany, the sister of Mary and Lazarus, who was concerned about so many things, and sometimes forgot the essential things, things that require a certain amount of stillness, and hush, and pause in the day to dayness of life. At the beginning of lockdown, I was enjoying that stillness, and hush, and pause to the usual hustle and bustle; but now, all that has gone, and I find that my mind, my body, and even my spirit, are being pulled in too many directions and that I am not very focussed on anything. I should have learned my lesson from a few weeks ago when I lost a rather distinctive, blue and white speckled spectacle case, containing a pair of spectacles that I had wanted to try and get repaired for my brother. I knew the spectacles weren’t that important as I had arranged for new spectacles for him anyway, and he had an old pair that were keeping him going in the meantime. But, the mystery of where I had put this spectacle case consumed myself, and others, as well as Saint Anthony, for days on end. We searched high and low, but to no avail. I thought I was losing my marbles. To this day, it still hasn’t been found, and I can only assume it has disappeared down the same black hole as my mobile phone. I didn’t learn the lesson then of slowing down, but hopefully I will now.
 
Moving on, I can report that last Sunday I celebrated another Sacrament that had been paused during lockdown. There had already been many funerals, whether here in the church, or at gravesides, or at crematoriums; I had celebrated one wedding and there is another wedding coming soon; but last Sunday I had the first celebration of Baptism, delighting to welcome two children from the one family into the community of the church. The Baptisms had originally been scheduled for last May, but obviously had to be postponed, but the mother of the children kept watching for the First Minister to give the green light and then immediately made contact to rearrange. It was a very happy event and all the necessary protocols were observed meticulously. In the weeks to come, presuming no greater restrictions are imposed, we hope also to celebrate the First Holy Communions for our local Primary Schools, also postponed from last May; and then the Confirmations of the children who were scheduled to be confirmed last March, on the very day that the churches were closed, which was on the Feast of St. Joseph. These children have now moved on to Secondary School, so there will be the task now of contacting and preparing them, and then organizing the service to confer the fullness of the Holy Spirit on their young lives.
 
Out in Bishopbriggs, myself and Father Antony keep holding the fort as best we can. The inevitable happened in that Father Gareth went down to Wales to support his mum through some medical procedures. He intended to be away for a week, but now there is a lockdown in Merthyr Tydfil, and God knows when he will be back this time. Father Justinian is still doing well. We appreciate your continual expressions of concern and support, and please be assured that we remember you always in our prayers and are thankful for your goodness towards us. So, as always: protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

9/18/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 13th – 20th SEPTEMBER 2020
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It’s been, for me, a week of highs and lows. Our Novena to Our Lady of Sorrows came to an end with the great Passionist Feasts of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross on Monday and Our Lady of Sorrows on Tuesday. Going by the feedback we received, it was well worth holding the Novena this year, even with all the Covid-19 restrictions, and hopefully it will have been a very blessed time for anyone who took part in any way. Father Antony worked incredibly hard and it struck me yet again what an extraordinary introduction he has had to priestly life since his ordination last December. Even for experienced old timers like myself, such an intense experience of preparing liturgies and homilies as we have had, not just for the Novena, but since lockdown began last March, is not easy. Since we began the streaming of Masses from the Oratory from that time, the intention was always to provide something of substance that could support and nourish people during this difficult time, but little did we think that, six months on, we would still be doing it, and no sign of it coming to an end. It was great to have Father Gareth back with us to play his part too, and, even though he has had to return to Merthyr Tydfil for a short time, he should be back with us more permanently by the end of next week. Throughout it all, we were supported by the prayers of Father Justinian who continues to do well since his stay in hospital at the early stages of lockdown.
 
I was also very aware, as the Novena drew to a close, that this marked the occasion last year of the closure of St. Mungo’s for the refurbishment work to be done, especially the provision of a much-needed new floor. At that stage, Masses moved to St. Paul’s Hall, and that’s where we remained from then until the middle of December. Much as we longed to be back in the church, our time there was actually quite enjoyable, with a much more intimate atmosphere being created in the much smaller space, people sitting beside people they had never sat beside before, and getting to know people they had never spoken to before, and, certainly, there wasn’t even a hint, or even the remotest possibility of social distancing. In the church, though, almost from day one, issues cropped up requiring additional works to what had been originally planned, such as the requirement to replace the 70-year old heating pipes, and the necessity of rebuilding collapsed dwarf walls, holding up the timber, which had crumbled over the years; and there were times when I looked in at the gaping hole in the floor, that looked as if it might soon reach Australia, and wondered if it had been wise to ever set out on this journey at all. Thankfully, it all ended well, the church is more beautiful than ever, and it has become a symbol for me, that we will eventually get through this present Covid-19 crisis as well, and that, at the end of it, something worthwhile will have been gained, and learned.
 
The low point came for me the day after the Novena ended. I was catching up on some administration at the church, and doing some post-Novena clear-up. Then I had to walk into town to attend to some business. I came back to the church, then drove out to the house to join Father Antony for the Mass of St. Ninian from the oratory, remembering my visits to Ninian’s cave over the years, a special place. I returned to the church for the Wednesday Prayer, Adoration and Reconciliation. It was only then that I realised that I didn’t have my mobile phone. Extensive searches took place, and continue to take place, in and around the church, out at the house in Bishopbriggs, inside the car I was driving, but all to no avail. When I ring the number it just goes dead. Were it just a phone I wouldn’t be worried, phones can easily be replaced, but, despite the fact that I am not a social media person in the slightest, mobile phones these days carry a lot of information, professional and personal, and I feel it’s a bit like having your house broken into, a sense of having been invaded, personally intruded upon, as I wonder who might have it, and what might they do with it. Also, my driving license was tucked inside, so there has been a nightmare of reporting and trying to limit any damage that might be done, and seeking to replace what was lost. Even St. Antony seems lost. So, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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September 11th, 2020

9/11/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 6th – 13th SEPTEMBER 2020
As I write, it’s day 4 of our Annual Novena to Our Lady of Sorrows. Father Antony, Father Gareth and myself are taking a day about, and today is one my days, which means I have celebrated the morning Mass in the church, and tonight I will present a period of prayer and reflection, incorporating our Novena Prayers, which will be streamed from the Oratory in Bishopbriggs. The day didn’t start very well, though. There was an influx of early morning bookings for today’s Mass when I checked in on my laptop before breakfast. By the time I responded to those I was running late. In the ensuing rush I left the house without my mobile phone. On arriving at St. Mungo’s, I asked Father Antony to ring Father Gareth and ask him to fetch my phone and bring it in with him, as he was coming in a bit later to celebrate a Funeral Mass after the Novena. This meant revealing my secret hiding place, where I kept the spare key to my room for emergencies, which, to be honest, I have had to use more often than I would like, as I have a habit of forgetting keys, even more than I forget my mobile phone.
 
I then came up to the parish office and turned on my desktop computer, intending to print out an up-to-date list of bookings to give to the volunteers for the 10 o’clock Mass, so that they could check people in. The document seemed to be taking a very long time to open. I decided to close it and try to open it again, but I ended up freezing the computer. I had to turn it off and restart. When I restarted the computer, I was offered all kinds of diagnostic solutions, which I declined, and had to restart it once again. By the time I got the list printed off half the people were already in the church and we had to conduct some remedial registration. Eventually, we got sorted, and I was able to snatch a few minutes of deep breathing and invocation of the Holy Spirit before Mass, as by this stage I was not at all recollected.
 
After Mass I managed to mislay an intention request, with a donation inside, which I had read out along with some of the petitions during the Mass. Having searched the altar area, and the sacristy, I then discovered I had brought it up to the office after all, with no memory whatsoever of having done so. I had a quick mug of tea and then attended to some administrative duties before rushing up to Drumchapel to bring my brother for an appointment I had made for him with the optician. I had noticed him peering at the menu on the television, and also struggling to read, which he loves to do. I discovered it had been 13 years since he last had his eyes tested, so it was well long overdue. Before leaving St. Mungo’s, I thought I had put the pen I was using in the office into a pen jar that I keep on my desk. I was later informed that I had actually put the pen into my half-drunk mug of tea.
 
The day took an upturn when, after my brother’s eye test, and the choosing of two frames, one for distance glasses, and one for reading glasses, the assistant asked if she should size the frames there and then, so that I could just pick them up when they were ready, or did I want to bring my father back in again. I looked at him, and he looked at me, and he said to her, “Actually, I’m his younger brother”. She looked aghast and apologetic. “I know from your form you are 66”, she said to my brother, “so what age are you?”, she said to me. “69”, says I. “Oh no”, says she, “I thought you were only in your 40’s”. What had begun as a pretty awful day had just ended on a high note. I thanked her profusely and couldn’t wait to get back and tell the rest of the community who, no doubt, would not believe me”.
 
The latest news from Bishopbriggs is that, with East Dunbartonshire now on lockdown again, Father Justinian has had to curtail his social life, which far exceeds that of the rest of us; Father Antony returned safely from his classmate’s ordination; Father Gareth is getting ready to go to Merthyr Tydfil again, just for a week, to support his mum through some medical appointments; while I get quietly more forgetful and confused, despite being only in my 40’s.
So, as always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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FATHER FRANK's LOG...

9/5/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 29th AUGUST – 6th SEPTEMBER 2020

As I write, Father Antony is getting ready to travel to Northern Ireland for a few days. On Saturday 5th September his classmate, Aidan, will be ordained in the Passionist Church of Holy Cross in Ardoyne, Belfast. I don’t know if any of you will remember Aidan as one of the deacons at Father Antony’s ordination last December. Aidan was due to be ordained last May, in time for our Provincial Chapter in June, but the ordination was postponed due to Covid-19 lockdown, as was the Chapter. Continuing restrictions mean that attendance at the Ordination Mass will be limited to close and immediate family members only. A handful of Passionists will attend but only our Provincial, Father Jim Sweeney, and Father Antony, will be able to concelebrate with the ordaining bishop. Fellow priests will not be able to lay hands on him, or offer him the kiss of peace, as is normally part of the Ordination ceremony. The following day, Father Aidan will celebrate his first Mass in his home parish of Carnlough, County Antrim, (which is also the home parish of Brendan Rogers). His first Mass will also be restricted to close and immediate family members. Father Antony will preach at that Mass, after which Father Aidan will go and say a prayer at the grave of his parents, and then return to give his first blessing. As with all things these days, it will be a very different experience from that which was first anticipated by Aidan and his family but, at the end of the day, we will have a new Passionist priest, and that’s the most important thing. Father Aidan will then move from Mount Argus in Dublin, where he is based at present, to take up his first official posting at the Passionist Retreat Centre at Tobar Mhuire in Crossgar, County Down.   

Last Saturday morning I was out walking, and I happened to be passing St. Matthew’s Church in Bishopbriggs just before 11 a.m. Like St. Mungo’s, the church there has been undergoing quite extensive refurbishment. The work was just about finished when lockdown came last March, and the builders had to down tools. The intention had been to try and open for Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion on 10th April, but obviously that didn’t happen. Now that the builders are back working, and the tail end jobs are almost complete, the church will happily re-open very soon. As I passed the church I wondered if Canon Hill, the parish priest, might still be around after the 10 a.m. Mass in the hall. It turned out that he was, and he kindly gave me a guided tour of the newly refurbished church, which is beautiful. New aisles have been added and the church furnishings are all bespoke. There is a lovely brightness about the place and I’m sure that the parishioners will be very happy with all that has been achieved. St. Matthew’s was Father Antony’s parish, and is still his mum’s parish. With the refurbishment work going on, and then the Coronavirus, Father Antony hasn’t yet had the opportunity to celebrate Mass in his home parish, which he would love to do, but hopefully we can look forward to that happening in the near future.

Father Gareth has been settling back as if he has never been away, although he will need to leave us again during the Novena to bring his mum to some important medical appointments, but that will only be for a week and then he can come back and settle in properly. The house in Bishopbriggs, the church, and the parish office, have quickly become noisy again as Father Gareth brings his own unique presence to bear. However, while Father Antony and myself have gotten used to working within the new protocols for public worship, Father Gareth has been finding it all very strange and, being such a big man, celebrating the streamed Masses, from such a small space in our community oratory at home, is very much a challenge for him. 
So, now we get ready to begin the Novena next Monday. Just to remind you that the full programme has been published on the website and, if you’re reading this, then you clearly have access to that. On the programme page you will also see a link to a page where you can make out a petition for the Novena, if you wish, and submit it to me. We will pray for all of the intentions we receive at every Novena Mass, or Service. Let’s pray for many blessings.
So, as always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

8/28/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 22nd – 29th AUGUST 2020
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Normally at this time of year we are in the throes of preparing for our Annual Novena to Our Lady of Sorrows. Last year was a very special Novena as it was taking place in the 150th anniversary year of St. Mungo’s Church. We invited as preachers Fr Aidan Troy CP, rector and parish priest of our Passionist Church of St. Joseph’s in Paris; Fr Paul Francis Spencer CP, parish priest of our Passionist Church of Mount Argus in Dublin, and former rector and parish priest of St. Mungo’s, and Fr James Sweeney CP; Provincial of the Passionists in Scotland, Ireland, and indeed Paris. The closing Mass of the Novena was celebrated by Archbishop Tartaglia on 15th September 2019, after which the church was closed and the refurbishment of the church began, in particular the laying of the new floor. The work was finished, to great satisfaction, just in time for the ordination of Fr Antony Connelly CP, which took place on Saturday 21st December, with his first Mass being celebrated the following day. Then came Christmas, after which we breathed a sigh of relief, and thought that was it, into the New Year everything would be back to normal – little did we know a pandemic was on the way.
 
So, with the period of the Novena fast approaching (it takes place from 7th – 15th September), we haven’t booked any preachers; we haven’t printed any posters; and we are still severely restricted by all the protocols demanded of churches when opening for public worship of any kind. So, what are we to do? The sensible thing would be to cancel the Novena for this year. That’s what many other churches have done in similar circumstances, but we didn’t really want to do that. When Father Gareth returned from Wales a few days ago, he, myself and Father Antony sat down and devised a modest programme that would allow an event to take place each day, both in the Church, and from the Oratory in Bishopbriggs, from where it would be streamed. Details of this are in the Newsletter on our Parish Website, but I’m going to repeat them here as not everyone may read the Newsletter.
 
There will be a Novena Mass in the Church on Tuesday 8th; Thursday 10th; and Tuesday 15th
September @ 10am - booking as usual. There will be an additional Mass on Friday 11th September at 1.00 p.m. which will be first come; first served – 50 people limit. On Monday 7th; Wednesday 9t; and Monday 14th September, Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross, there will be a Holy Hour from 3-4 p.m. The 6 p.m. Vigil on Saturday 12th September, and the
10 a.m. and 12 Noon Masses on Sunday 13th September will all be Novena Masses. Novena Masses will be streamed from the Oratory on all the usual days and times – Monday7th, Wednesday 9th, Friday 11th, Saturday 12th and Monday 14th at 12.15 p.m. and Sunday 13th at 7.00 p.m. On the two days there is no streamed Mass from the Oratory, Tuesday 8th & Thursday 10th September, there will be a Reflection with Novena Prayers at 7.00 p.m. There will be a closing streamed Mass on Tuesday 15th September, Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, at 7.00 p.m. Have you got all that?  We think that this is the best we can do as things are.
 
All of this is totally dependent on the work of our faithful band of volunteers who, since the churches first opened again for public worship, have been absolutely wonderful. and we have planned the Church Masses and Services for the Novena around the times on which they are available, so as not to place an additional burden upon them, and I want to take the opportunity here in Father Frank’s Log to say a huge word of gratitude to them. We simply could not be doing without them. Those who wish to place petitions to be prayed for during the Novena, and to make a donation if you wish, can do so online, or else take petition leaflets from the back of the church, fill them in, place them in the envelope provided, and put them in the safe collection box – they will be easily distinguishable from other contributions. We will pray for these petitions at every Novena Mass and Service, whether in the Church or in the Oratory, throughout the Novena. May there be blessings for everyone.
So, as always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

8/22/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 15th – 22nd AUGUST 2020
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I’m a day later getting to the Log this week as yesterday was taken up with a meeting of a Passionist Province Commission of which I am the coordinator. There were only five of us at the meeting, four Passionists and a facilitator, and we met in the bottom hall at St. Mungo’s. Prior to the meeting the facilitator had been in touch to seek agreement on the purpose and agenda for the meeting, but also to propose the protocols we should put in place for keeping safe, having himself consulted the most recent advice available for keeping safe at meetings. Among his proposals were: open all windows and doors to increase air ventilation and air exchange – and therefore to bring an extra layer of clothing in case it got cold (which it did); everyone bring laptops so that any documents could be shared online rather than sharing paper documents; sit two metres apart (in fact we did more than that as we created a pentagon of tables which meant we were at least 3 meters apart); everyone bring their own supply of alcohol hand gel and use it at regular intervals throughout the meeting; and bring our own drinks and lunch. This is yet another example of how complex life has become in the course of this pandemic, when even a simple meeting of just five people demands such care and preparation.
 
Father Antony is also on the Commission, and the facilitator lives in Milngavie. The other two Passionists travelled over separately from the North of Ireland on the ferry, one from Crossgar, and the other from Belfast. As we have no accommodation to offer, each booked into a different hotel for bed and breakfast. Hotels, of course, also have their protocols to follow. On the basis of this, one of the guys had quite a positive experience, and the other a horrendous experience. On Wednesday evening I had been invited by one of the guys, the one who had arrived earliest, to meet him for a bite to eat in an Indian restaurant near to his hotel. In years gone by, when he was based in Scotland, he had come to consider Glasgow as the best place ever for Indian cuisine. The restaurant also had all the Covid-19 protocols in place, one of which was that we had to sit alongside each other, rather than facing each other, so as to keep the two-metre distance from the table in front. The food was delicious, and we were able to have a good catch-up with each other. The waitress kept referring to us as “my darlings”, in a very loud and friendly way, and, I thought to myself, I must bring Father Gareth here some time as I could imagine her calling him darling, and him calling her sweetheart, and the whole restaurant being able to hear and enjoy the pair of them – but no hugging so as to keep safe distance.
 
At the beginning of the meeting, before getting down to business, we shared on how things had been for us during these past few months. One of the Passionists had contracted the virus early on, he thinks from another member of the community, but had been able to carry on his counselling ministry via Zoom. He had recognised the need to have a special shirt for these Zoom meetings as the temptation during isolation was to stray from casual into scruffy, which wouldn’t have come across as very professional. The other Passionist, the director of our retreat house, had been compelled to close doors and isolate with his community. He had found it a prayerful time, with plenty of opportunity for reading, and enjoying walks in the beautiful retreat house grounds. The facilitator was on furlough and was able to enjoy time with his wife and young daughter, feeling grateful that he could walk out of his front door and, in minutes, be on some of the lovely walking paths that are part of the West Highland Way. Father Antony and I shared our experiences too, but I think readers of this Log will have a good idea of how things have been for us during this period.
 
In Bishopbriggs at present, we are looking forward to Father Gareth’s return next Tuesday. As well as longing to welcome his unique, larger than life presence, to liven up our community life, it will also be good to have him available to share the pastoral load. The only drawback is that I have been using his room as an overflow to hang up washing on the clothes dryer, rather than cluttering up the sitting room, which we normally use, and also to hang up my own shirts to keep the creases out, so as to clear space in my own room, which is the smallest room in the house. I will need to ensure that all of that is removed before Father Gareth bursts in the door as if he had never been away. Father Antony and myself are still keeping things going as best we can. Father Antony is looking forward to going over to Belfast for his classmate Aidan’s ordination on 5th September. The ordination was postponed last May because of Covid-19, but even though restrictions are still in place, and it won’t be as Aidan would have wanted, it will now definitely go ahead on that date no matter what. Father Justinian is well. So, as always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives
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father frank's

8/13/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 8th – 15th AUGUST 2020
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Last Friday night parish priests and parish coordinators received an email from the Vice-Chancellor of the Archdiocese to provide an update on Covid-!9 restrictions for acts of public worship. There was nothing particularly new in the document, but I detected a definite change of tone, a harsher tone, not from the Vice-Chancellor, but from the Government. Essentially, it was a reminder to parish priests that we would be committing a criminal offence if we did not enforce the Government guidelines with regard to face coverings; social distancing; numbers control; track and trace details; and infection control. Initially, it got me down a bit, not because I disagreed with the guidelines, but because I was imagining the consequences if something went wrong, with St. Mungo’s having to close doors, and other churches having to close doors too, because of St. Mungo’s, just as we were beginning to get going again. This is the tenuous nature of the times, and the reality we are living in. We have also come to realise how tenuous things are with regard to pubs, restaurants, and the like, and of course, football, with the exploits of the Aberdeen Eight, and Boli Bolingoli, meriting a yellow card from the First Minister, and the Sword of Damocles hanging over us, of a possible red to come.
 
The thought of potentially committing a criminal offence isn’t pleasant, but it didn’t bother me, as I know that we are doing our absolute best here in St. Mungo’s to get things right. In a more light hearted vein I recalled that I already have a criminal record, of sorts. When I was eight years of age I was “booked” by the police, along with my older brother and four friends, for playing football in Thurso Street in Partick, outside the old Spillers Mill. Usually we had a lookout who signalled to us when the police were in sight, and we would make a run for it, but, on this occasion, we were caught out by two plain clothes policemen. In the Glasgow gangland era I would have thought there might have been greater priorities than us, but there you are. The six of us, two Keevins’s and four Kelly’s, all from up the same close, had to appear before the Children’s Panel, and we all received a 5 shilling fine – which was a fair bit of money in those days for our parents to pay out. After our ordeal we had to return to school at St. Peter’s Primary in Partick. My brother’s teacher treated it lightly enough, but my own teacher was most displeased, especially as I was the teacher’s pet. This was mainly because I served Mass every morning before school at St. Simon’s Church in Partick Bridge Street, and I always got my R.E. questions right. On this basis, I was considered honest and trustworthy enough to be sent out each day to get her lunch. This was always the same routine. I would walk down to the local grocer’s shop on Dumbarton Road and ask for a quarter pound of red cheddar. The big block of cheese would be sitting on the counter and I would gaze in fascination as the grocer got the cheese wire and sliced through the block with consummate ease. He would then, with a flourish, throw the cheese on to the weighing scales and, almost always, it would be a quarter pound exactly. I was continually amazed at how he could always get it so spot on. He would then wrap the quarter pound of red cheddar up in greaseproof paper and put it in a brown paper bag, take the money from me, ring it up on the big till, give me the change, and I would bring it back to my teacher. Day in, day out; week in, week out, I performed this task diligently, and I can only imagine this was the reason she was so disappointed in my crime. Still, it didn’t stop her from sending me out for the red cheddar.
 
In reality, everything seems to be going smoothly enough, and people accept all that has to be done in a good spirit. One positive aspect of the booking system is that, when people arrive for Mass, and have to be ticked off on the check list, we are putting faces to names that we weren’t sure of before. There is a good sense of community, in that we are all in this together, making the sacrifices, looking out for each other, and the variety of face mask designs has become the topic of great conversation and fun, even though nobody actually likes wearing them. Out in Bishopbriggs there is not a lot to report, except that two of our neighbours, one diagonally to the left of us, and the other diagonally to the right, have both had their cars stolen recently, and there have been reports of other cars being stolen, usually in the wee hours of the morning, throughout the estate. The police have been at the door asking did we see or hear anything, but, with Father Gareth still away, only Father Justinian sleeps at the front of the house, while both Father Antony and myself sleep at the back of the house, where all we hear is the croaking of frogs and the chirping of birds in the woods, so, we weren’t much help. I don’t think any of our cars are worth stealing, but we are certainly being more careful about making sure that no keys, or anything of any value, is left inside them. Apart from that we are good. So, as ever, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

8/6/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 1st – 8th AUGUST 2020
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Last Saturday I celebrated my first wedding since lockdown began. Other weddings had been postponed until next year, especially with hotel and reception venues cancelling, but this couple were determined that the wedding would go ahead, if at all possible. The most important thing, after all, was the marriage, not the reception. Over the weeks and months since the pandemic took hold, the couple and myself were watching for the First Minister’s announcements each Thursday, listening for a hopeful word that weddings could go ahead, even with restrictions and limitations. Eventually that word came and we knew, barring a second spike, that the wedding could proceed, albeit with a maximum of 20 people, and a raft of protocols to comply with. The paperwork proved a challenge as well. Two dioceses were involved and chancellery staff in both were working from home. The registry office was on lockdown too but re-opened just in time to allow the necessary civil requirements to be attended to. The night before the wedding there was torrential rain with thunder and lightning, but on the day itself the sun was shining, albeit with a bit of a breeze. All went well, with only 10 people in all present, including the bride and groom – well, 11 if you include myself. There was a BBQ afterwards in the family garden, after which the couple managed a few days away, glad of some peace and quiet after the tension and anxiety of the previous months, and no doubt, whenever it becomes possible, they will gather a larger group of family and friends to celebrate belatedly what was a very lovely and happy occasion.
 
We have reduced our streaming service a little bit from St. Mungo’s, as Father Antony and myself were finding things a bit stretched since public Masses resumed in the church. So, on the two weekdays, Tuesday and Thursday, when we have Mass in the church, we don’t have Mass streamed from the community house in Bishopbriggs, but that still leaves five days when we do have streamed Mass. We know that the main purpose of these streamed Masses is to provide a service for people who are still in isolation, for one reason or another, and who therefore cannot come out to Mass as they would like. However, we have also made a lovely connection with people in Ireland, North and South, and in a number of other countries as well, who seem to have formed a small, virtual community, of prayerful communion with each other, and we don’t want to let go of that too easily. When life gets back to some kind of normal, we will have to think carefully, and consult, on how this virtual family of faith might continue, in some fruitful way, going forward. There is a sense in which the church will have changed as a result of this pandemic, and as a consequence of how we have had to adapt and respond to the challenges that were posed. Not everything will be exactly as before, and if there are positive opportunities to emerge, we will do our best to take hold of them. We have also added an extra day to our availability for the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which takes place during the times that the church is open for personal Prayer and Adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. This is now on Mondays and Wednesdays from 2-4 p.m., and on Saturdays from 3-5 p.m. It is heartening to see how people have responded to this, and while, as I mentioned before, there were some tears shed in the first weekend when we returned to public Masses, there have also been tears of shed by people who have felt bereft in not having this Sacrament of Healing available to them, and who can now return. If only more people could come to an appreciation of the blessings this Sacrament can bring.
 
At a more mundane level, the football season has resumed, and I had to rely on a parishioner to inform me that my older brother, the doyen of Scottish sports journalists, has made a return to the written word with a certain Sunday newspaper. When I checked this out online, the vitriol was already outpouring from some of the sad and mad people who think social media is a vehicle for their own particular bile. Big brother is a brave man for making himself vulnerable to that yet again – as if Super Scoreboard wasn’t enough. But he is a good writer, who uses intelligent thoughts and words, with real punctuation, almost a lost art, and I will look forward to reading his articles. On another sporting note I was amused by John Higgins’ comment that coming out at the World Snooker Championships to no audience was a bit like going to Mass. As for we Passionists, there is not a lot to report. Father Antony, having cut the hair of father Justinian and myself, has now cut his own hair, and not before time, he was beginning to look like the Cure d’Ars. The date for Father Gareth’s return has now been agreed for 25th August, all going well with his mum, and we still look forward to that. 
As ever, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

7/31/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 26th JULY – 1st AUGUST 2020
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At the time of writing we are into the second week of the Glasgow Fair. I know the Glasgow Fair is not what it used to be but, until very recently, it was always the time, the last two weeks in July, when I would take my Summer Holidays. As a child I associate the Glasgow Fair with the excitement of getting a taxi to St. Enoch’s Station and boarding the steam train to Saltcoats. The Hogwarts Express was nothing by comparison. As a family, we would always stay in the same boarding house, where the proprietors had a huge Dalmatian which we simply called Spotty Dog. Every year we couldn’t wait to see that dog, and it was as if the dog was excited to see us as well. We would go to the beach every day, enjoy a paddle in the sea, build sandcastles, and eat ice-cream cones, even when it was raining, or when it felt as if the temperatures were sub-zero, our skin turning blue, and our teeth chattering. We were on our holidays! Apart from the beach, by day it was train spotting from the railway bridge and taking down the numbers. At night it was chips with hot peas and vinegar from the local chippie. The steam train back to St. Enoch’s was a sombre affair - holidays over.
 
In my working years with the Singer Sewing Machine Company in Clydebank, and the Olivetti Typewriter Company in Queenslie, that is, between the years of 1969 and 1975, I always took the Glasgow Fair for my annual holiday as well. I don’t think the factories actually closed at that time, as they used to do up until the 1960’s, but it just seemed the natural thing to do. Old habits die hard. Most of those Glasgow Fairs were spent on the Isle of Barra with some madcap friends, who continue to be friends to this day, and as mad as ever, even though married with children now, and even grandchildren. We meet up every now and again, when their wives will let them out, but that has all been curtailed during lockdown.
 
In 1975 I joined the Passionists. During student years the summers were different, we had pastoral placements of varying kinds, but I continued to take the Glasgow Fair as my summer period for going home to spend time with my family. I wouldn’t do a whole lot but I enjoyed catching up on some old haunts in Glasgow, and simply taking it easy. My younger brother, who worked for 46 years in National Savings until poor health forced his retirement last year, would always take the Glasgow Fair as his holiday, so it meant that he was home at the same time that I was there. That became more important after our mother died in 2001, after which the Glasgow Fair became a really restful, peaceful, catch-up time for both of us together. That lasted until I returned to Glasgow in October 2016 and, since then, it has been a bit different. In fact, despite what Father Gareth and Father Antony might tell you, and unlike them, between one thing and another, I haven’t actually managed a holiday of any kind for the past two years and, when it was pointed out to me, two Mondays ago, that it was fair Monday, it took me quite by surprise. But then, I suppose I’m not the only one as we can easily lose track of all kinds of things in these strange times we are living in.
 
As mentioned before, in this lockdown period, there have been quite a number of funerals, but now, during this next period, I am getting ready to celebrate a wedding, and also a baptism, still with all the protocols in place, so it will be interesting to see how those go. I will let you know. Father Justinian continues to do well and is enjoying his tidy room, although he says he can’t find where anything is. Father Antony keeps up his healthy routine of walking at night, dropping into his mum, and then popping into the Supermarket on the way home if we need any shopping. My mind still boggles with trying to respond personally to all the Mass booking requests, and I have recently been trying to finalise accounts with our auditor, so those early and leisurely lockdown days seem long gone at this stage. No word from Father Gareth after his long phone call last week when we discussed plans for his return when his mum’s shielding comes to an end on 16th August. We can’t wait. Can you?
As always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

7/23/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 19th – 26th JULY 2020
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At the time of writing we have completed our first schedule of Public Masses. We held two Sunday Masses at 10 o’clock and 12 o’clock, to which we will now add a 6.00 p.m. Vigil Mass on Saturday; and two weekday Masses on Tuesday and Thursday at 10 o’clock. We will also add an extra day for personal prayer, adoration and the Sacrament of Reconciliation. These are now available on Mondays and Wednesdays from 2.00-4.00 p.m. and on Saturdays from 3.00-5.00 p.m., but we have dropped the Sunday afternoon time as it wasn’t so well attended, and we now have the two morning Masses on the Sunday anyway. It’s all about feeling our way at the moment, but I have been struck by how we are very much creatures of habit. For example, we have had Confessions since 24th June, and until last week it was easily manageable for Father Antony and myself, but in the days leading up to churches opening again for Public Masses we were inundated with Confessions, and that’s what has led us to adding an extra day. I also wondered if the Sunday afternoons were quiet because people don’t associate Sunday with going to Confession. Also, despite the temporary lifting of the Sunday Mass obligation, and the encouragement to opt for a Weekday Mass if possible, so as to free up space on Sunday for those who can’t come to a Weekday Mass, the Sunday Masses both reached their 50 quota easily, while the weekday Masses have been only half-full.
 
Up to this point I have been responding to all the booking applications personally as we decided not to opt for Eventbrite or any other booking system. There is something jarring about seeing a notice saying that Masses are “sold out”, and so, despite the extra load, we have tried to operate through our own parish website. It certainly has a more personal feel about it, and I am gradually developing my own way of doing things, but I am asking people to be patient as I cannot always respond immediately because of other commitments – and I do need to eat and sleep now and again. A nice gentleman turned up for Mass on Tuesday morning and said he didn’t get confirmation of his booking. I asked him when he had booked, and he said it was 45 minutes previously. At that stage I was setting things up for Mass and preparing to open up for the volunteer stewards to arrive and set things in motion. There was no problem with him coming in though, once he was happy to give his contact details, because, as already stated, the midweek masses have been only half full. Another phoned while I was having my dinner and said they hadn’t received a reply to a booking request which was submitted only 15 minutes previously. Again, no problem, but please note, I am not on auto-response and, as we are asked to verify on PayPal and the like, I am not a robot.
 
The first Public Mass here in St. Mungo’s was at 10 o’clock last Sunday. As I came out to begin the Mass, I felt fine, but as soon as I began the Introductory Rites, and welcomed people back, I felt myself filling up and, unashamedly, tears began to flow. I was told by some people afterwards that I set them off too, and why not, it was an emotional occasion, and it meant so much more to people than those who put public worship at the end of the queue after pubs, restaurants, coffee shops, card shops, D.I.Y. stores, and the like, gave credit for. So, despite the limitations, it’s wonderful to be gathering, listening, receiving the Holy Eucharist, and being sent out together, to live the Gospel, once again. Praise God! The news from Bishopbriggs is that Father Justinian has had a major clean-up job done on his room. His niece and sister-in-law arrived last Tuesday at around 11.00 a.m. and left at 3.00 p.m., and what a fantastic job they did. It is a total transformation. Father Antony is still enjoying being an uncle again. He was playing it cool, but I could see his concern when wee Liam was taken back into hospital with a slight jaundice, but he was out again next day, and Uncle Antony was a happy bunny once again. The big news, of course, is that Father Gareth will be back to us around the 19th/20th of August. His mum finishes shielding on the 16th and, once he sees she is coping okay, he will head back to us, and we are really looking forward to that.
As always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

7/17/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 12th – 19th JULY 2020
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In the past couple of weeks both Father Antony and myself have celebrated funeral Masses for the first time since lockdown began, with the exception of the funeral of Father Lawrence, which I celebrated with eight of his family members, and with Father Antony concelebrating, right at the beginning of lockdown. Afterwards even that wasn’t possible, it has been either crematorium or graveside services with limited numbers and social distancing in place, until now. These were also the first Masses of any kind with a congregation in the church since the beginning of lockdown and, while it was good to be able to celebrate, it still felt very strange. Since then, of course, the announcement has come from the First Minister that public worship could resume from 15th July, a week or so earlier than was expected. From the time of that announcement we have been putting plans in place for the resumption of Public Masses in St. Mungo’s. This isn’t as straightforward as it seems, and so much of it depends on having sufficient volunteers for stewarding; ensuring safety measures are adhered to; seating people; candle lighting; cleaning before and after services, and perhaps even queue management. We have also had to put a booking system in place and ensure that we gather the necessary details required by the NHS in the event of a Covid 19 outbreak, but also to ensure that data protection controls are sufficiently in place. Our first Public Masses will be this coming Sunday, and you will find our revised schedule on the homepage of the Website and in the Parish Newsletter section. We will keep reviewing this as we go along.
 
The booking system went live on Wednesday night and, from the word go, bookings were flowing in, especially for the 12 o’clock Mass on Sunday, which is now fully booked. I had a late night on Wednesday trying to record and respond to those initial bookings. The booking system itself worked perfectly, thanks to our wonderful Website manager, Paul, but I only realised the following morning that, as part of the security involved, I couldn’t simply click Reply and confirm the bookings, which is what I had been doing, so I said Praise the Lord and set out to revisit them all again and implement a new method of confirming bookings. My head is melted, as this is all so new, and I’m a technophobe, but I think it’s all working now, please God. I hope, however, that we are never in the position of having to turn anyone away who hasn’t booked, that really goes against the grain, but that is exactly what we have been instructed to do. So, let’s see how this first week goes, and we will take it from there.
 
Father Gareth sends his best wishes from Merthyr Tydfil and says that he and his mum are doing well. He has had messages from people saying that they want to return to the church after many years away, so he is encouraged by that. Shielding ends in Wales on 16th August, so we would expect Father Gareth to be back to us soon after that. Father Justinian continues to get encouraging word from the carers and nurses who visit and he looks well. He is also enjoying increased family visits and has even ventured out to the homes of his two brothers and their wives on a couple of occasions. He and I both got our haircuts from Father Antony last Friday, so I am very happy to be able to see again through my eyebrows. The big news from Bishopbriggs, though, is that Father Antony is an uncle again. His wee sister Jill gave birth to her first child on Thursday. He had mentioned in his homily at the 12.15pm Mass that he was waiting on word, as the 1st reading that day mentioned a woman with child nearing her time, not realising that at 12.14pm, 8lb, 8oz, Liam had entered this world just as Mass was about to begin. (As a Celtic mad family, I can’t believe that the 88 is a coincidence) So, congratulations to the parents, Jill and Ryan, also to all of the family on both sides as they welcome a new member, and of course to Uncle Antony, who is absolutely delighted, as are we all. As I mentioned before, I am the only one in the Passionist Community who drinks, so it will be up to me to wet the baby’s head, which I will make the sacrifice to gladly do.
As always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
 
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July 11th, 2020

7/11/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 5th – 12th JULY 2020
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On the day of writing this log it is, in Scotland, the Feast of Our Lady of Aberdeen, but in our Passionist Calendar we celebrate the Feast of Our Lady, Mother of Holy Hope. It was on this day, 9th July, in 1857, that Father Charles Houben, now Saint Charles of Mount Argus, the Passionist saint noted for his ministry of healing, first set foot on Irish soil and came to reside in Mount Argus, the Passionist monastery in Dublin that was to become synonymous with him. The image of Our Lady, Mother of Holy Hope shows Mary holding the child Jesus who has a cross in his hand, reflecting the teaching of Saint Paul of the Cross, the founder of the Passionists, that ‘the whole life of Jesus was a cross’ and that “the life of a disciple of Jesus means remaining on the cross with Him”. The original picture came into the possession of Saint Paul of the Cross in 1773, two years before his death. His successor as Superior General of the Passionists had copies made and it became the custom for each Passionist religious to have one of these prints in his room. Interestingly, the image was first brought to the English-speaking Passionist world by Cardinal, now Saint John Henry Newman, who was visiting Rome in 1847 and, when he was returning to England, the Passionist Superior General at that time gave him copies to bring to Blessed Dominic Barberi, the Passionist priest who had received Saint John Henry Newman into the Catholic Church two years previously.
 
So, Father Charles already had a great devotion, and often prayed to Mary under that title, but the fact that he arrived in Ireland, from England, on that particular feast would have served to heighten his devotion, and intensify his prayer, as he tried to settle into a very new, difficult and lonely situation. He was, of course, from the Netherlands, where devotion to Mary, the Mother of Holy Hope is very strong among the Passionists, and indeed the Passionists in the Netherlands gather under the title of the Province of Our Lady, Mother of Holy Hope. When I was Master of Novices for North Europe, I used to love visiting the Passionists in the Netherlands, as I always found them very friendly and welcoming. The first time I visited them was at the Mother House in Haastrecht, (not to be confused with Maastricht which is further south, and famous for the treaty that established the European Union in 1992, and also as the birthplace of Andre Rieu, who holds fabulous concerts there every summer, not far from the birthplace of Father Charles at Munstergeleen). I was shown to my room and invited to join the community in the recreation at 5.30 p.m. where, I was told, they gathered every evening to pray for the Pope. I was mildly surprised at such prayerful devotion to the Pope who, at that time, was John Paul II. However, it turned out that praying for the Pope was a euphemism for having a pre-dinner drink and chat, which was very pleasant indeed.
 
The Netherlands, being very flat, is a great place for bicycles, although one member of the Passionist Community preferred roller skates for getting around and, in the winter, he would take to ice-skates, and travel by the frozen canals to wherever he had to go. Haastrecht is only 5 kilometres from Gouda, famous for its very nice cheese, and so, one day, I borrowed a bicycle to go into Gouda and have a look. As I picked up speed on the road I saw a set of traffic lights up ahead turning to red and suddenly realised that the bicycle had no brakes, and so I had to make a rather ungainly and undignified stop with the soles of my shoes, ending up curled up on my side, with the bicycle on top of me, so as not to be battered by traffic on the crossroads. I later discovered that peddling backwards was the way to engage the brakes. I never was much of a cyclist, and I certainly didn’t try the roller skates or ice skates. I made it to Gouda and calmed my nerves by enjoying some nice strong coffee and appelstrudel.
 
Not much to report from Bishopbriggs. We are all well and hoping to have Father Gareth back with us soon, as things return gradually to a new normal. In the days ahead we will try to assess today’s rather complex new guidelines from the Government on communal worship. As always, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.
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father frank's log...

7/4/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 28th JUNE – 5th JULY 2020

Last week we should have been attending our Provincial Chapter, which is a gathering of the Passionists from Scotland, Ireland (North and South) and Paris who make up what we call St. Patrick’s Province. This gathering takes place every four years and, during the Chapter, we review the life of the Province, face into any difficulties and challenges, and plan our pastoral priorities for the following four years. We also elect, or re-elect, our Provincial and his Council (also known as the Curia) and one of the tasks that they have after the Chapter is to make the various appointments of personnel throughout the Province. That would have meant that, from this week onwards, we would have been waiting by the phone, or expecting a visit, to be consulted on our next move, or on our staying put, depending on the discernment and deliberations of the Curia. The Chapter was scheduled for the 22nd – 26th June in a Retreat and Conference Centre run by the Cross and Passion Sisters at Drumalis in Larne, in the North of Ireland, but, of course, because of the Coronavirus, our Chapter didn’t take place. At present we have re-scheduled for the end of October in a different venue, but it remains to be seen whether easing of lockdown has progressed enough for the Chapter to feasibly take place, even then. So, as in many other things, we are in a kind of in-between place.
 
Of course, it may have been that, instead of being at the end of a phone waiting for a call, at least one of we Passionists in Scotland would have been elected to the Curia and been part of the group entrusted with making the necessary appointments, and therefore making these calls. I have been in that position a number of times before. What usually happens is that, at the end of a Chapter, the new Curia have a diary meeting and set aside a block of days on which to come together and set things in motion. Prior to that the consultation process will take place. When the Curia eventually gets around the table, they will endeavour to put a plan in place to achieve the Chapter priorities, and pencil in a first draft of the men they wish to appoint to the various tasks and locations whom they feel can best bring that plan about. Then it comes time to phone around, and to ask people if they are willing to go here or go there, to do this or do that. If everyone says yes, then the process draws to a close with a huge sigh of relief, but, if even one person says no, there will be a knock-on effect and it’s back to the drawing board. For the most part our men are willing to do what is asked of them, and to accept that this is part and parcel of the life we have chosen, but there can also be good reasons for saying no, and those are listened to with compassion. In the times we live in, there are fewer pieces to move around on the board than there used to be. Our membership is diminishing, and many of those who remain are getting older and frailer. At present there are only 45 religious in the Province, with an average age of 71. There are 9 leadership positions to be filled. Of those in leadership at present, 4 of the 9 are aged 75 or over, while the other 5 are in their mid to late 60’s. There are 6 different communities, and so, providing leadership for the next few years and beyond will not be easy. Can all of our communities and all of our ministries be sustained? We have been blessed in recent years with a few good vocations, and two of those are based in St. Mungo’s. But oh, how we need more of those going forward. So, from this in-between place, I am asking you to pray very hard for Passionist Vocations.
 
Father Gareth has asked me to say how much he misses everyone. Being an Everton supporter, he is trying to be magnanimous about Liverpool winning the English Premiership, but he also likes the way Everton are progressing under Carlo Ancelotti. Father Justinian is improving remarkably since he came out of hospital, and is being well looked after by a plethora of carers and nurses. Father Antony continues to maintain his suntan, and to hone his pastoral skills, having been plunged in at the deep end in unexpected ways since ordination. I have to be nice because I need to ask him for another haircut soon, as I can’t see through my eyebrows at present. Partial church opening is going fine and we look forward to progressing it further soon. So, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

6/26/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 21st – 28th JUNE  2020
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Last Sunday I headed out for my walk – which I have to confess I am not doing as regularly as I had been. Usually, when I head out, I have no particular direction or route in mind, I just like to go where my instinct leads me. Sometimes this can lead to losing my way, and an intended one-hour walk can easily turn into two hours, and this was certainly the case on this occasion. Happy as I am for golfers having been able to return to their favourite pastime, I am missing Cadder Golf Course as a place of many walking possibilities, and so my instinct took me in another direction altogether, firstly through the wooded area at the back of our estate. This wooded area is protected because of a rare breed of frogs residing in the pond behind our house. However, I would suggest, there is now another reason why this area must be protected. As I meandered along the path, clambering over fallen logs, and ducking under overhanging branches, I saw a notice nailed to a tree that I am sure wasn’t there the last time I took this path. The notice said “Fairies live here”, and, sure enough, as I continued my walk, I came upon some very excited children, meandering with their parents, who were searching for little fairy doors on some of the trees, where no doubt these fairies dwelt. Not wanting to disturb them, or to scare the fairies away, I left them to it, and continued on my way.
 
Leaving the woods, I made my way towards Low Moss, and cut across an open grassy area which, on most of the paths, comes to a halt at a small burn, ditched on either side, a hundred metres or so from Low Moss prison walls. This is where, on previous occasions, I have turned back, but, on the path I had taken this time, I came upon a little wooden bridge that let me cross the burn, and follow a path along the perimeter of the prison walls and into another wooded area, much more extensive than the area behind our house where the fairies live. I always believe that, if there is a path, it must lead somewhere, and I thought that this path must surely bring me out somewhere that would mean I didn’t need to retrace the way I had come, which I never like having to do. At times, however, the path was very indistinct, but I kept going anyway. Leaving the prison walls behind, I found myself walking beside the perimeter fence of one of the units in the industrial estate where some socially distanced workers were stacking pallets. I thought I had hit a dead end when, out of the blue, I saw some people coming towards me walking their dogs. I made a space to let them by and asked them if this path would lead me out on to the road again, and they said it would, but, as this was their first time on this path, they asked me where it would bring them in the direction I had come from. Having exchanged information, we each continued on our way. Half an hour later I still hadn’t come out onto the road, and I came to a point that was definitely familiar to me, meaning that, somehow, I had managed to walk in circles and gotten nowhere. I ended up doing what I hadn’t wanted to do, and retraced my steps. On the way I met my earlier friends retracing their steps too, so obviously they hadn’t found their way out by the way I came either. On another day I will walk that way again and discover where I went wrong. I re-entered the woods at our estate to get back home. By now it was raining quite heavily, and so the children with their parents had sensibly disappeared. That left the coast clear for me to search for the fairy doors myself, of which I found many. How exciting!
 
Other than that, we opened the church on Wednesday for personal prayer and Confessions, and will do the same on Saturday and Sunday. There was a lovely, prayerful atmosphere, with the Blessed sacrament exposed and candles lighting; and everyone (well almost, there’s always one awkward customer) was happy to abide by the protocols, just glad to be back in St. Mungo’s. As it was a beautiful day there was no problem with leaving the doors open for easy entry and exit. It was so good to see people we hadn’t seen in such a while, and we look forward to repeating the same for the next couple of weeks, and then gradually increasing the number of days and hours until we get back to normal, or at least to the new normal. Praise the Lord! Meantime, protect yourselves and your loved ones, and protect Christ in your lives.

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father frank's log...

6/19/2020

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FATHER FRANK’S LOG: 14th – 21st JUNE  2020
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At the time of writing, today is the 37th anniversary of my ordination as a Passionist priest, which took place in St. Mungo’s on the 18th of June, 1983. It was my mother’s 64th birthday so, if she had still been alive, she would have been 101 today. I was ordained by Cardinal Thomas Winning, and I remember he made a bigger fuss of my mother on the day than he did of me, which I must confess, as someone who dislikes being fussed over, I was very happy about. Since then, I have spent 3 years in St. Mungo’s as an itinerant preacher and Vocations Director; 6 years in Dublin as a Formation Director; 2 years in the North of England, and one year in County Sligo, in the West of Ireland, as Novice Master for the Passionists of North Europe. For one year, when there were no novices, I was sent to South Africa and Botswana, and engaged in a variety of parish, preaching and formation roles. I then spent 5 years in Prestonpans, in East Lothian, and 14 years in Dublin, as a Rector and Parish Priest, with a further two years in the midst of that doing itinerant preaching to promote devotion to our, at that time, newly canonized saint, St. Charles of Mount Argus; and I have now spent 4 years back in St. Mungo’s, again as Rector and Parish Priest. I am hoping that adds up to 37. Those were the main roles I was appointed to, but, throughout that time, I have also served on our Provincial Council; given many preached and directed retreats; and I have been Provincial Bursar for more years than I care to remember. Next Wednesday I will be 69 years of age.
 
Within that there have been, naturally, a whole variety of experiences and challenges; highs and lows; triumphs and failures; joys and sorrows; heart warmings and heartaches, struggles and surprises, laughter and tears – just an ordinary life really; and, while I wouldn’t necessarily say I am still going strong, at least I am still going, and I think I have the health and the hope and the enthusiasm to keep going for a bit longer yet, with whatever I can offer. This present time, however, is about the strangest time I have gone through as a priest in these past 37 years. Churches closed, celebrating Mass online with a virtual congregation; unable to hear Confessions, or visit the sick and housebound; unable to celebrate baptisms or weddings, or to hold a proper requiem for the deceased - and still it goes on. Again, as I write, I am waiting to hear what our First Minister has to say about easing restrictions and where that will take us. But, while I long for Mass to return to our churches, I can’t say I am looking forward to putting on a mask to distribute Holy Communion, to communicants who will also have to wear masks, receive in the hand, step to the side, remove their masks, consume the host, and then replace their masks to return to their place. No doubt God is in all of this, as God is in all things, and, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, we will find a way forward, and come to know the meaning, the learning, and the grace that is contained within.
 
If it has been strange for me, then it has been strange for the other members of my Passionist Community as well. Two days ago, on the 16th of June, Father Antony celebrated the 1st anniversary of his Final Profession as a Passionist and he is now almost 6 months into his priesthood. How could he possibly have envisaged how these first months would unfold? Has Father Justinian ever experienced anything like this in his 60+ years as a Passionist Priest? As for Father Gareth, the strangeness of the experience for him has been compounded by spending all of lock down with his isolated and shielded mum in Wales. The other day a letter arrived for me, and I recognized the spidery writing on the envelope as being Father Gareth’s. Inside, however, the letter had been written by his mum, thanking me for allowing her big son to be with her at this time, and saying how much that meant to her; as well as the blessing and the privilege of having her son celebrate Holy Mass in her humble home each day. Her heart was reaching out to all who had suffered and who weren’t so blessed as her during this time. We miss Father Gareth greatly, but he is where he is meant to be, by God’s providence. When God wills, he will be back, and we’ll all be back, with songs to sing, and tales to tell. Meantime, 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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