by Matthew Fitzpatrick

Author and Open House contributor Joe Fitzpatrick died on 22 June.  Born in Glasgow in August 1940, he was one of nine children to Joseph and Catherine. He was the sixth child and the youngest of three boys – his siblings Mary, Theresa, Margaret, Jim, John, Cathleen, Francis and Anne living together under one roof in a two-bedroom tenement in Cambuslang on the outskirts of the city. A devoutly Catholic family with the Church central to daily life.

Born during the Second World War, Joe’s childhood was unquestionably modest with little in the way of luxury to be shared around.  He spoke about his younger years with fondness interspersed with the odd tale of woe… The image of a very young Joseph carrying a sack of potatoes up Park Street became a stock anecdote about how tough he had it. My sister Fiona and I would groan at this well-worn story of bleak Scottish grit.

The self-proclaimed day dreamer of his early years eventually emerged as a thoughtful and bright young man. At the age of 11, he was called to Holy Orders and sent to Blairs near Aberdeen, a junior seminary for boys and young men studying for the priesthood. Taught by priests, Dad received a rarified and scholarly education – an academic grounding that fostered a lifelong intellectual curiosity that was to span a host of subjects and touch many lives. Blairs was hard going for a young Glaswegian boy used to the warm bosom of his large family, surrounded by loved ones and not far from his beloved Celtic Football Club. Yet he got through his years at Blairs with aplomb alongside his closest lifelong friend, Gerry Fitzpatrick.

They both left Blairs at age 17, heading to Rome’s Gregorian University. The Scots College was to be Joe’s home for the next seven years as he prepared for his ordination. The Gregorian University was a centre of academic excellence where intellectual enlightenment continued at a significant rate. Joe received the Gold Medal – the Benemerenti – for Philosophy. A proud achievement for him and his family.

Another Rome highlight came in 1962 when Joe met Pope John XXIII alongside other students from the Scots college – more specifically, students from the Diocese of Motherwell. As the pontiff entered the room, the students began to kneel. He told them to stand up and exclaimed ’in ginocchio solo davanti a Dio’ – on our knees only before God. This sentiment carried significant weight with Joe, its meaning resonating with him, informing his occasionally obdurate and disdainful attitude to institutions and establishments that expect our unquestioning deference.

Ordained at 23, Joe moved back to Scotland, settling in to the parish of Our Lady’s in East Kilbride as the resident curate and looked after by Mary, the housekeeper. Fr McGirk was the parish priest, of whom he spoke very fondly his whole life. His education did not stop: he was supported by his bishop to apply for a place at Cambridge University, which he joined, aged 26, reading English.

Education was a privilege he never took for granted nor underestimated. When I asked him years later why he went into teaching and lecturing when he left the priesthood, he said that he believed it was his duty. He had been bestowed with a world class education from a tender age, and it was his moral obligation to give back what he had received; to continue a life of service outside of the Church but with the Church’s mission at the heart of his endeavours. The vocation remained even if the clothing had changed.

At 29 years old Joe took the very tough decision to step away from the priesthood. He knew it would upset loved ones and those who had invested in his progression within the Church. But it was a decision that he made for his own sense of happiness and agency. With strongly progressive views about celibacy and being unable to have a wife, Joe decided to leave the priesthood - not to marry, but to have the freedom to do so. This was a man who was forging his own path; a rebel with a cause that he would spend the next 50 years championing.

Five years later he met student Eileen Jackson at Christ College in Liverpool. Marrying soon after, they started a family in the city – Fiona arriving first followed by myself a couple of years later. While lecturing in English, Joe applied for a role in Her Majesty’s Inspectorate of Schools. To their delight, he got the job of HMI - and celebrated by hiring a colour television.

Joe was a proactive parent who enjoyed joining in and playing games with us, laced with a heavy dose of competitive spirit. I may have been eight years old but that was no reason to let me win at table tennis, or football, or running or chess. As a school inspector, he inevitably had strong views on the education of his children, moving us out of schools when he believed there were better ones down the street. Being just about good enough was not good enough for Dad.

His drive for his children to do well never ceased and nor did his pride. Likewise, my Mum, the successful headteacher, had Dad standing alongside her the whole time. Dad was a great brain and an even bigger rock upon which we stood as a family.

In later life, they enjoyed their retirement together, acquiring a modest holiday home in France. But even in retirement, Joe never stopped working. He read constantly, wrote papers and journal articles on philosophy and theology. He gave many talks and toured as a lecturer, including to Boston College and the Gregorian in Rome. A proud moment was getting his first book published in 2005. This was a book on Canadian philosopher Bernard Lonergan, and a further book on Lonegan’s work followed. Joe also wrote a radical text on the Book of Genesis and the Fall and Ascent of Man in which he interpreted Adam and Eve’s original sin as representing the human awakening of consciousness and wisdom. Humankind’s ‘fall upwards’ – the knowledge of both good and evil informing life’s struggle … capable of incredible endeavours as well as self-serving cunning, elevating us from the beasts but with the knowledge that we have the free will to be good or bad.

Joe loved the company of his grandchildren and cherished their time with him.  He had a long and healthy life with very few significant ailments. But age caught up with him and mobility became an issue. With the loving care of Mum at his every turn, he was able to live a happy and fulfilled life right up to the end. Just before going into hospital, he enjoyed a week in Morocco with the family. Although weakened, the strength of personality shone through on the wards at Airedale Hospital. One night the hospital called Mum to say that ‘he’s asking for whiskey’. Mum took the contraband to his bedside and he sipped peacefully on his favourite tipple.

To go back to Pope John XXIII’s instruction to be on our knees only before God… Paul’s letter to the Ephesians adds further detail, stating: ’They who kneel before God can stand before anyone’.

That was Grandad. That was Dad. That was Joe.

May he rest in peace.