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About Us

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There has been a Catholic Christian presence in the vicinity of our parish from at least the sixth century. We are blessed to be able to treasure in our sister parish of St. Mahew’s a church that was in use all those centuries ago and, after the vicissitudes of history, was happily restored to Catholic worship in 1955. Within the boundaries of our parish, at Faslane cemetery, stand also the ruined remains of St. Michael’s church which dates back to the twelfth century (See image below). Other venerable chapels were located in Rosneath, Cove  and elsewhere in the surrounding area. Our community gathers today in an area where devout Christians prayed and celebrated the sacraments some fifteen hundred years ago. We cannot but be conscious of the graces and blessings wrought through the devotions of our ancestors in the faith and we can be sure that their prayers and love are with us still.

 

Early enough in the life of the town, Helensburgh in 1865, had a Catholic parish established. Bishop Murdoch gave permission for the purchase of a cottage and joiner’s workshop, with a view to these premises being converted into a place of Catholic worship. Fr. John Macdonald from Dumbarton celebrated the first Mass in the parish known then as St. Bride’s. Ten baptisms had taken place by 1866. In the following year, Bishop Gray assigned the parish to the care of the Passionist Congregation. A Passionist saint, St. Paul of the Cross, had recently been canonised and the parish was re-dedicated under this patronage.

 

In 1878, Fr. Louis J. MacIntyre was appointed to the parish and very quickly sought permission from Archbishop Eyre to open a school and in the following year the same priest secured a new site on which to build a new church and school, in Grant St. Within a year preparations had been made and in June 1880, the new chapel-school was opened under the patronage of St. Joseph. The school could accommodate some 200 pupils. The parish saw continued growth and in 1908 permission was given to Fr. Angus Mackintosh to purchase Lomond Cottage and its grounds. In 1910, Fr. Mackintosh, with the extraordinarily generous financial support of Mrs. Rosina Blair, applied for and received permission to build a new substantial church at the corner of East King St. and Lomond St. The ambitious project was taken forward by the renowned Belgian architect, Charles Menart, who had designed the prestigious St. Aloysius’s Church in Rose St., Garnethill. The building began as soon as plans were approved by the Dean of Guild Court on 1st May 1911 and the formal opening was presided over by Archbishop Mackintosh on 6th August 1912. Interestingly, the tower planned to sit above the cross of the nave and transepts, never was realized. Artists’ impressions alone remain tantalizingly.

 

The new church had scarcely been completed when the Great War broke out. Records indicate that around 300 parishioners were involved in military service during that conflict. Those who lost their lives are commemorated in a fittingly noble memorial plaque situated inside the entrance porch. Thirty-one names of the war-dead are recorded on this poignant memorial. Many of the dead were between 18 and 21 years of age. This must have been a loss sorely felt by the entire parish.

 

As was usually the case, there was a considerable delay before the final consecration of the church. This took place on 28th April 1965 and Archbishop Scanlan officiated. To mark the occasion, His Grace donated an elegant chalice to St. Joseph’s, with an inscription to commemorate the event.

 

With the course of time, a number of significant changes have been made to the interior of the church. The sanctuary had to be adapted to suit the liturgical changes which took place after the Second Vatican Council. A free-standing altar facing the congregation, an ambo for the proclamation of God’s Word and the relocation of the Baptismal Font, all were done thoughtfully and tastefully, leaving an overall impression of a truly worthy setting for the sacred liturgy.

 

A further significant alteration was the extension of the vestibule area, toilets and a new stairway to an enlarged choir-loft, a new organ and P.A. system. This work was completed under the direction of Mgr. Maurice Ward and was made possible by the generous legacy of René and Leda Taverne (deceased in 1993 and 1999 respectively).

 

The most recent refurbishment of the church took place in preparation for the centenary of the building. A Centenary Repair and Refurbishment Group was formed and a very substantial amount of money was gathered, along with a grant from the Scottish Churches Architectural heritage Trust. Significant work was carried out and the church was fittingly embellished for the centenary.

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darkness to light.jpg
Healing of the Blind Man

In many commentaries on this passage in the gospel of John the writers  focus on the themes of light and dark, seeing and not seeing. It is easy to understand why. Those are two major themes throughout the book of John, and it’s seen so clearly here. And they’re beautiful metaphors. They have their place and time.

But there’s more to this story than just a brilliant use of metaphor and some dramatic irony. Instead, there’s also an important message here about listening and stories.

In this story, Jesus gives sight to a man who was born blind. At the beginning of the story, when Jesus and his disciples meet the blind man, they ask Jesus why this man was born blind. They want to know: What were the reasons—the causes—behind this man’s impairment? Who is to blame? The disciples want to know whether it was the sin of the man himself or his parents, or someone else in his family that led to his blindness. While that may seem like an odd question to us today, In first-century Palestine, it actually made a lot of sense. It was understood that impairment was a punishment from God because of a person’s sins.

Jesus, though, is uninterested in fully answering their questions. He barely gives those questions the time of day. Jesus is uninterested in finding fault and pointing fingers. It’s hard to see that in our Bibles, but in the Greek, it’s much clearer.  Our English translations say that he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.  But it doesn’t actually say that in Greek: that little phrase—the “so that” was added  later into translations.

 

According to scholars, it could actually be translated as something like this:

As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth.  His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind? Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned. [FULLSTOP] In order that God’s works might be revealed in him, we must work the works of Him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work.”

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As we can see here, Jesus isn’t concerned with the “Why?” of the situation. Instead, Jesus is concerned with the reality of the situation. He’s concerned with the person standing in front of him. In his refusal to go into the details of how and why this man is blind, Jesus is actually doing something else. He is sneakily asking a better question. Instead of “Why” or “How come?” Jesus asks, “what now?” He asks, “In the face of this reality, what now? What can I do in the here and now to support and love the person before me?”

 

The technicalities of the disciples’ nitty gritty theological questions are not, at this moment, important. Following down that line of questioning will only get us lost in the weeds and cause us to ignore those in our midst who demand our attention. Jesus’ response, while not a question itself, helps point us to what’s really important—to our neighbours—and nudges us towards asking questions about who they are instead of what they are.

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But after Jesus cures the man, those who had known him just as the “blind beggar” are only interested in the “Why?” and the “How?” They started hounding him with all sorts of questions. Are you that same guy we’ve known for so long? What happened to you? How did this happen?? Do your parents know about this? Is this real, or are you just messing with us? And question after question, he tells them the same thing. He says, “The man named Jesus cured me; I was blind, but now I see. And that’s all there is to say!” He must have been exasperated by answering the same question over and over and over again. Verse 27 is the best example of this. You can just hear his frustration coming off the page. Verse 27 says:

They asked him how it happened, and “He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?”

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In this season of Lent, in this season of spiritual spring cleaning, we are called to ask ourselves those same questions posed to those Pharisees. So , let us ask ourselves: Who’s story are we not listening to? Who’s witness are we ignoring? What are the questions we should be asking? Do we have the vision—the imagination—to see the unexpected ways God is working in the world in and through our neighbours?

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Let us pray that during this Lenten season, may we tend to our own stories and the stories of others. Because God has given each of us a story—each of us is a witness—may we listen as Jesus listened. May we ask better questions. May we listen with empathy and compassion to the stories of our neighbours. May we recognize the preciousness of those stories.  And may we be sensitive to how God has worked and is currently working in the lives of our neighbours.

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Adapted from Sarah R. Mayer, Calvary Baptist Church in Hopewell, NJ.

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