The First Station

The First Station

Jesus Is Condemned To Death

Here we see Jesus being led away, hands bound, to be crucified. At this point the Romans were in charge, but that doesn’t look like any Roman soldier that we ever saw. Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of Judaea, wanted to release Jesus who he thought was innocent but the crowd wanted crucifixion –

“So when Pilate saw that he was gaining nothing, but rather that a riot was beginning, he took water and washed his hands before the crowd, saying, ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood; see to it yourselves.’ And all the people answered, ‘His blood be on us and on our children!’ Then he released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, delivered him to be crucified.” [Matthew 27:24-26]

We can see Pilate at the rear of the tableau washing his hands aided by a servant.

The dedication at the bottom of the tableau is:

PRAY FOR THE DONOR, THE REVD. WILLIAM BROWNE P.P.

Caretakers and Christenings

Fenor 1884 – 1984

Caretakers and Christenings in Fenor Church

Edmond Murphy, Fenor, was caretaker of Fenor church from 1910 until his death in 1934. He also served at the first Mass in Fenor church in 1894. His wife Margaret was also caretaker with him until 1960 when Mrs Tom Power took over. Eddie Murphy (Edmond’s son) took over the care of the churchyard at the age of fifteen years on the death of his father.

Jim Phelan of Churchhouse and Richard Hartley of Woodstown were both christened on the same day and were the first baptisms in Fenor church. Michael Hutchinson was the second christening. While the church was being built, Mass was said using the vault (flat tomb) as an altar.

Warts & Bleeding

cuckoo-spit

Warts must have been a very common complaint in days gone by because everybody in the parish has a tretment which works. People believed that warts on the hands were caused by washing the hands in water in which eggs were boiled. A fasting spit rubbed on the wart or the froth from the cuckoo’s spit, or water from the forge, all worked a treat. There is a wart well in Drumcannon below Tramore and there was a stone in the orchard of Power’s, Islandtarsnay (the Tailors). This stone had a depression in it where rainwater collected. You just washed the affected part in this water and, appropriately, it was called the wart stone. The dew of the grass before sunrise on May morning removed warts as well as corns, bunions, freckles, and all skin blemishes, and guaranteed eternal beauty. Stranger still are the following cures. If the wart is rubbed with a piece of fat-bacon and the bacon is then buried, the wart disappears as the bacon rots away. A raw potato rubbed on and then thrown away works the same way. A very common cure is the shellakiepookie cure. You get a shellakiepookie (snail), rub the wart with him, stick him on a thorn and, as he withers away, the wart disappeares. Caustic soda and wart plant (spunk) were rubbed on the wart.

There were two people from the parish who had the charm to cure warts. They used a straw from the rick and made the sign of the cross on the wart, then they buried the straw and the wart just disappeared within a few days. If all of these failed, a hair from the horse’s tail was tied tightly around the wart until it withered. Take your pick, they all work if you have faith.

 To stop bleeding

bleedingThe charm to stop bleeding was most peculiar because it worked on animals as well as people and it worked at a distance.

William Kiely from Killfarrasy had the charm. A mare of Bob Phelan’s jumped a gate and burst a vein in her leg when she hit the top rail. The workman ran for William. He had a prayer that he used to say to stop the bleeding. The workman urged him to come quickly but he answered, “I said the prayer, it will be stopped when I get there” – and it was. The charm to stop bleeding was passed from a man to a woman to a man and could not be used unless someone requested it. (I was privileged to be given the prayer to stop bleeding by Tommy Drohan, who got it from his grandmother.) St. Martin’s blood was also used to clear bleeding. On St. Martin’s eve (November 10th) a cock or some domestic animal was killed and the blood was sprinkled on the door-post and also on a cloth. This cloth was kept safely and applied to any bleeding wound.

For every ailment there was a folk-cure – an eelskin for tralach [tráileaċ], or cork under the matress for cramps in the legs, boiling potato-water for hangnail, oatmeal water for freckles, a cobweb or a key down the back of the neck for nosebleed. Many of the old cures are lost and very few of them are used. Nowadays, however, there are still people to whom we turn in times of specific need – the healers and the people with “the cure” .

Cures

Cures

Children who survived the rigours of childbirth had then to face childhood illnesses – without the medical services and antibiotics that are available to us today. Scalds were treated with the first snow of the year. The snow water was melted and kept. Burns were treated with bread soda or linseed oil, or country butter and egg yolk made into a paste. A badly burned or scalded child was plunged into the churn of buttermilk and, of course, there was always the dog’s lick, which had great curative powers.

scotts-emulsion

Cod-liver oil and Scott’s Emulsion were taken by children to build up their strength and prevent cold and childhood illnesses. Adults took raw eggs beaten up with warm milk and a drop of whiskey, or a glass of mulled stout with sugar was almost as good. Vick was used on the chest and a spoon of honey soothed a chesty cough. For pneumonia, a poultice of candle wax on brown paper was wrapped around the body. People who suffered from backache always carried a small potato in their pocket and Our Lady’s flower was carried in the pocket to prevent stroke. This little blue flower grows commonly in the month of May. Of course, red flannel worn across the back, was especially good for low back pain. This flannel should be washed. Pepper, especially Cayenne pepper, taken fasting, mixed with a drop of water and followed by a big glass of milk or water, was a marvellous cure for arthritis, rheumatism, lumbago or sciatica.

Most of us have spent a sleepless night or two counting the hours until dawn. The cure for insomnia is very simple – onions boiled in milk, sprinkled with pepper, and taken as a bedtime drink. This was also very good for the kidneys. Hives were common in children, probably because of deficiency in the diet, so boiled nettles were eaten in March to clear the blood. Slouchán was boiled in March, too, and given to children for worms. This dose was repeated after eight days. Three drinks of barnacle water in March kept a child free from worms for the year, and “yalla male” (yellow meal) stir-about cleared a child of tape worms.

Whooping Cough

frog

[ “In my mouth, you say?” ]

Many of us remember the horror of whooping cough for which there was no medical cure, but of folk cures there were many – most of them hair-raising. A live frog put into the child’s mouth when fasting should cure the whooping. The usual cure was to ask a man riding a white horse for his cure, which was usually to pass the child over and under the horse three times. Ferrets’ leavings were given to the patient as a good cure. A plate of bread and milk was given to the ferrets and whatever was left was fed to the patients. Paddy Power has an Irish cure which goes like this: “Bhí fear ag marcaíocht go dtí an margadh i nDún Ghearbhán agus ag an droichead in nDún na Mainistreach bhí seanbhean ina suí agus d’iarr sí air., ‘A fhear a chapall bháin, cad é an leigheas ar an triuc?’ D’fhreagair sé í, ‘A Dhún Ghearbhán beirig an “whey” (boiled whey). Sin é an leigheas ar an triuc?'” (Whooping cough was also called pioc or chin-cough).

A stocking filled with warm salt was put around a sore throat and salt and water was gargled. I got a cure for jaundice from an elderly neighbour twenty-five years ago which really works. The blossom of the furze was boiled with vinegar, beer, brown sugar, and saffron. This was taken, about a wineglass per day, for nine days. Another good cure, which is still in use, is the inner bark of the barberry, infused with porter and brown sugar, and taken three times. These cures work on dogs as well as humans.

The common cure for headache and also for throat ailments was the Brat Bríde or the St. Brigid’s ribbon. The ribbon, which was left outside on the eve of St. Brigid’s Day, was blessed by the saint. The ribbon was put around the head or throat of the patient. The brat or ribbon was also put across the cow’s back when calving or if she was sick. On St. Brigid’s eve men also put out their braces or galluses so that the saint would bless them also. This blessing gave the men strength to do their daily work for the whole year. It was believed that thin, skinny children got over measles more easily than fat children and that any ailment that came with measles stayed with the person for their life. Deafness and sore eyes and often blindness or partial blindness resulted from measles, so the patient was kept in darkness to protect the eyes. Sore eyes were treated with cold tea or by twisting a gold wedding ring around the eye nine times, and the thorn of the gooseberry bush was used to let out the puss in a stye. The blessed well of St. Declan was the place to go on pilgrimage for people who feared blindness and many people went on horseback or by pony and trap to Ardmore to wash in the water and do the rounds.

[ Declan founded a seminary in Ardmore circa 416. The Holy Well served as a baptistery to the primitive Christian missionaries. Declan Christianised the area of Decies before St. Patrick came in 431. ]

Leg ulcers, which were a common complaint in the elderly, especially in women, were treated with a bandage of green cabbage or slánlus (or slanns). Skin cancer was treated with pennyleaf or dock leaf and so were nettle stings. Bee stings were rubbed with the blue bag and wasp stings were cured by rubbing a raw onion on the affected area.

The Blacksmith Doctor

rickets

Water from the forge had magical cures and was used to cure itch, chilblains, eczema, to remove warts, and to get rid of freckles. The blacksmith could diagnose and cure most of the ailments of animals, especially horses. Tom Power (RIP), who was the local blacksmith and was the seventh generation of blacksmiths of that name, could cure rickets. Rickets caused deformed limbs in children and was common early this century. He made the sign of the cross on the thumbnail of the child with a piece of iron over the anvil. He said a prayer also – perhaps the Ár nAthair.

People who have suffered from shingles tell me that it is a very painful ailment, sore and difficult to cure. There is a charm to cure shingles which works and the shingles clear up within a few days. The person with the charm pricks the finger and makes a circle of blood around the affected area. This is repeated three times. Cahills and Caulfields have the cure for shingles, so the cure is known as Cahill’s blood or Caulfield’s blood. Seventh sons have the cure for ringworms and they are also blessed with the ability to set bones and cure sprains. When a seventh son or, better still, the seventh son of a seventh son was born, a worm was put into its hand and, if the worm curled up and died, the child had the charm. In the last century, when football and hurling matches went on from after second Mass to the onset of darkness, the bonesetter was as important as today’s casualty unit in Ardkeen. Goose grease was always preserved in a jam jar for the treatment of sprains in humans and animals. Geese were killed at Christmas for St. Martin – turkeys did not take on until the 1930s.   

                                         

Traditions and Folklore

Fenor 1884 – 1984

Some Traditions and Folklore of our Parish

by Rita Byrne.

[ This is a Catholic parish web site and the cures and customs described here do not form part of our Catholic beliefs. But the parishioners of 1894 were not theologians like we are and their belief system was part Christian, part pagan, part Irish – a bit tangled, in fact. So we have published Rita Byrne’s wonderful article because, although it is full of heresies, they are the very best of heresies. – Comms Team.]

What was life like for the people who built our church?

The Fenor of 1894 was very different from the Fenor of today. It is difficult to visualise houses without running water or electricity, no TV in the living room, and no car outside the door. The lives of our grandparents were hard by comparison with ours and were still dominated by the old ways. Practices and customs that had been handed down from their forefathers were faithfully adhered to. There was a time and a way to do all things and there were spirits to be respected and deferred to.

Our grandparents had tremendous faith in God and in the saints but they also respected the power of the fairies and the spirit world. For centuries these traditions, customs, beliefs, and cures remained alive. Now, with the coming of the age of technology, they have virtually disappeared. Much of what is here will, no doubt, be dismissed as piseóga or superstition. However, for some, they are a never-ending source of delight and curiosity.

From birth to death and in between

The coming of a baby into a family was a great and happy event. The time of birth was important. Babies came, usually, with the phase of the moon and, if a baby was overdue, the old people would be out watching the moon to see how close to the full moon or new moon it was. May Day was a very lucky day on which to give birth, but Whitsun was deemed to be the most unlucky time. Before birth it was possible to predict the baby’s sex by swinging a string, which was threaded through a needle and stuck into a cork like a pendulum, over the tummy of the expectant mother – right to left for a boy, and in a circle for a girl. “Tá sé ag teacht abhaile” was a way of letting adults know that somebody was pregnant while shielding the fact from children. Babies were sometimes lazy and took their time in coming. A full bottle of castor oil taken fasting by the mother was sure to do the trick and bring on the birth. Most babies were delivered by the local handy woman or midwife but Tramore and the area surrounding were served by a trained midwife. There were precautions taken even before birth to preserve the mother and baby and keep them free from harm and safe from the evil eye.

Should the unfortunate woman meet a hare, her baby would surely be born with a harelip. Of course this could be prevented simply by the turning up of her skirt and putting a tear in her petticoat. Men who hunted the hare always cut off the scut (tail) immediately after killing the animal for fear of the damage that it would do if it met an expectant mother. It was also considered very bad form and very dangerous for a pregnant woman to attend a funeral, since there was the fear that the baby would be born dead or deformed. Club foot was caused by the mother slipping or stumbling in the graveyard and I was told of one lady who was foolish and who went to a funeral when heavily pregnant. She leaned against a headstone and, when her baby was born, it had a birthmark in the shape of a headstone on its back. “And that’s as true as God”.

The Saddest of All Customs

The saddest of all customs were those that dealt with the death of babies and young children. Unbaptised babies could not be buried in consecrated ground so they were buried between sunset and sunrise outside the walls of the graveyard or in a disused graveyard, a cillín, or a ring fort. The souls of the little babies had to carry a lighted candle forever. Those baby-lights were often seen at night outside graveyards, especially in the month of November. People believed that the lonely little souls were searching for their parents or relations inside the graveyard.
Up to fifty years ago, unbaptised babies in Fenor were buried in the path around the graveyard. Parents did not go to the grave with the dead child, particularly if it was their first child, believing that, if they brought one child to the grave, they would bring the next and possibly all of their children there also. Should more than two infants from the same family be born dead, the cycle could be broken by changing the place in which the infants were buried.

[ How many gravestones do we see that record family deaths with a simple statement like “And four children who died young”? Young, nameless, unbaptised, unrecognised, and buried God knows where. Harsh indeed. And what about the treatment of suicides? “In England until 1823 a suicide’s body was buried at a crossroads with a stake through the heart. Until 1882 it was buried at night. All the property of a suicide was confiscated until 1870.” Time magazine, November 2nd, 1959. – Comms Team. ]

Babies born with a caul were blessed with a great talent or gift. A caul is a membranous tissue which covers the head and neck. This caul was always preserved by the child’s mother and sailors valued it above all other things, believing that, if they had a caul on board ship, they would never be drowned.

Babies and Fairies

The evil eye, the fairies and the púicín had the life scared in most people and parents were especially vigilant. A piece of silver was placed in the cradle to preserve the baby from evil and salt was rubbed on the forehead. Neighbours and friends, on first seeing the baby, would place a silver coin in its hand or shawl. Under no circumstances could the baby’s nails be cut until after the first birthday since, if the nails were cut, the child would grow up to be a thief. Instead, the nails were bitten off by the parent and placed in the bottom of the cradle.

Baby boys, of course, were in greater danger than baby girls because the fairies were always on the lookout for little boys, so great care had to be taken to keep them safe. Young boys were dressed in petticoats until they were six or seven years old to fool the fairies. Despite this they sometimes succeeded in switching babies and, instead of a beautiful happy thriving child, a “sheevra” [siaḃra] was left. This sheevra was a cross, contrary little fellow who would fail to thrive. He was sometimes called an “auaichin” [aḃacín]. Baby girls were sometimes marked by fairies also. Late in the last century, a woman in the parish who was thinning turnips, left a baby girl wrapped in a shawl on the headland of the field. She heard the baby scream and ran to see what was wrong. One of the child’s legs had withered, and stuck out at an angle. She remained like that until the day she died. The place where she had been left was a fairy pass – or so it was generally believed.

Cures

Children who survived the rigours of childbirth had then to face childhood illnesses – without the medical services and antibiotics that are available to us today. Scalds were treated with the first snow of the year. The snow water was melted and kept. Burns were treated with bread soda or linseed oil, or country butter and egg yolk made into a paste. A badly burned or scalded child was plunged into the churn of buttermilk and, of course, there was always the dog’s lick, which had great curative powers.

scotts-emulsion

Cod-liver oil and Scott’s Emulsion were taken by children to build up their strength and prevent cold and childhood illnesses. Adults took raw eggs beaten up with warm milk and a drop of whiskey, or a glass of mulled stout with sugar was almost as good. Vick was used on the chest and a spoon of honey soothed a chesty cough. For pneumonia, a poultice of candle wax on brown paper was wrapped around the body. People who suffered from backache always carried a small potato in their pocket and Our Lady’s flower was carried in the pocket to prevent stroke. This little blue flower grows commonly in the month of May. Of course, red flannel worn across the back, was especially good for low back pain. This flannel should be washed. Pepper, especially Cayenne pepper, taken fasting, mixed with a drop of water and followed by a big glass of milk or water, was a marvellous cure for arthritis, rheumatism, lumbago or sciatica.

Most of us have spent a sleepless night or two counting the hours until dawn. The cure for insomnia is very simple – onions boiled in milk, sprinkled with pepper, and taken as a bedtime drink. This was also very good for the kidneys. Hives were common in children, probably because of deficiency in the diet, so boiled nettles were eaten in March to clear the blood. Slouchán was boiled in March, too, and given to children for worms. This dose was repeated after eight days. Three drinks of barnacle water in March kept a child free from worms for the year, and “yalla male” (yellow meal) stir-about cleared a child of tape worms.

Whooping Cough

frogMany of us remember the horror of whooping cough for which there was no medical cure, but of folk cures there were many – most of them hair-raising. A live frog put into the child’s mouth when fasting should cure the whooping.

[ The picture of a live frog was provided by the Comms Team. It will surely cure the whooping! ]

The usual cure was to ask a man riding a white horse for his cure, which was usually to pass the child over and under the horse three times. Ferrets’ leavings were given to the patient as a good cure. A plate of bread and milk was given to the ferrets and whatever was left was fed to the patients. Paddy Power has an Irish cure which goes like this: “Bhí fear ag marcaíocht go dtí an margadh i nDún Ghearbhán agus ag an droichead in nDún na Mainistreach bhí seanbhean ina suí agus d’iarr sí air., ‘A fhear a chapall bháin, cad é an leigheas ar an triuc?’ D’fhreagair sé í, ‘A Dhún Ghearbhán beirig an “whey” (boiled whey). Sin é an leigheas ar an triuc?'” (Whooping cough was also called pioc or chin-cough).

A stocking filled with warm salt was put around a sore throat, and salt and water was gargled. I got a cure for jaundice from an elderly neighbour twenty-five years ago which really works. The blossom of the furze was boiled with vinegar, beer, brown sugar, and saffron. This was taken, about a wineglass per day, for nine days. Another good cure, which is still in use, is the inner bark of the barberry, infused with porter and brown sugar, and taken three times. These cures work on dogs as well as humans.

The common cure for headache and also for throat ailments was the Brat Bríde or the St. Brigid’s ribbon. The ribbon, which was left outside on the eve of St. Brigid’s Day, was blessed by the saint. The ribbon was put around the head or throat of the patient. The brat or ribbon was also put across the cow’s back when calving or if she was sick. On St. Brigid’s eve men also put out their braces or galluses so that the saint would bless them also. This blessing gave the men strength to do their daily work for the whole year. It was believed that thin, skinny children got over measles more easily than fat children and that any ailment that came with measles stayed with the person for life. Deafness and sore eyes and often blindness or partial blindness resulted from measles, so the patient was kept in darkness to protect the eyes. Sore eyes were treated with cold tea or by twisting a gold wedding ring around the eye nine times, and the thorn of the gooseberry bush was used to let out the puss in a stye. The blessed well of St. Declan was the place to go on pilgrimage for people who feared blindness and many people went on horseback or by pony and trap to Ardmore to wash in the water and do the rounds.

[ Declan founded a seminary in Ardmore circa 416. The Holy Well served as a baptistery to the primitive Christian missionaries. Declan Christianised the area of Decies before St. Patrick came in 431. – Comms Team. ]

Leg ulcers, which were a common complaint in the elderly, especially in women, were treated with a bandage of green cabbage or slánlus (or slanns). Skin cancer was treated with pennyleaf or dock leaf and so were nettle stings. Bee stings were rubbed with the blue bag and wasp stings were cured by rubbing a raw onion on the affected area.

The Blacksmith Doctor

ricketsWater from the forge had magical cures and was used to cure itch, chilblains, eczema, to remove warts, and to get rid of freckles. The blacksmith could diagnose and cure most of the ailments of animals, especially horses. Tom Power (RIP), who was the local blacksmith and was the seventh generation of blacksmiths of that name, could cure rickets.

Rickets caused deformed limbs in children and was common early this century. The blacksmith made the sign of the cross on the thumbnail of the child with a piece of iron over the anvil. He said a prayer also – perhaps the Ár nAthair.

People who have suffered from shingles tell me that it is a very painful ailment, sore and difficult to cure. There is a charm to cure shingles which works and the shingles clear up within a few days. The person with the charm pricks the finger and makes a circle of blood around the affected area. This is repeated three times. Cahills and Caulfields have the cure for shingles, so the cure is known as Cahill’s blood or Caulfield’s blood. Seventh sons have the cure for ringworms and they are also blessed with the ability to set bones and cure sprains. When a seventh son or, better still, the seventh son of a seventh son was born, a worm was put into its hand and, if the worm curled up and died, the child had the charm. In the last century, when football and hurling matches went on from after second Mass to the onset of darkness, the bonesetter was as important as today’s casualty unit in Ardkeen. Goose grease was always preserved in a jam jar for the treatment of sprains in humans and animals. Geese were killed at Christmas for St. Martin – turkeys did not take on until the 1930s.

Warts and Bleeding

cuckoo-spitWarts must have been a very common complaint in days gone by because everybody in the parish has a treatment which works. People believed that warts on the hands were caused by washing the hands in water in which eggs were boiled. A fasting spit rubbed on the wart or the froth from the cuckoo’s spit, or water from the forge, all worked a treat. There is a wart well in Drumcannon below Tramore and there was a stone in the orchard of Power’s, Islandtarsnay (the Tailors). This stone had a depression in it where rainwater collected. You just washed the affected part in this water and, appropriately, it was called the wart stone. The dew of the grass before sunrise on May morning removed warts as well as corns, bunions, freckles, and all skin blemishes, and guaranteed eternal beauty.

Stranger still are the following cures. If the wart is rubbed with a piece of fat-bacon and the bacon is then buried, the wart disappears as the bacon rots away. A raw potato rubbed on and then thrown away works the same way. A very common cure is the shellakiepookie cure. You get a shellakiepookie (snail), rub the wart with him, stick him on a thorn and, as he withers away, the wart disappeares. Caustic soda and wart plant (spunk) were rubbed on the wart.

There were two people from the parish who had the charm to cure warts. They used a straw from the rick and made the sign of the cross on the wart, then they buried the straw and the wart just disappeared within a few days. If all of these failed, a hair from the horse’s tail was tied tightly around the wart until it withered. Take your pick, they all work if you have faith.

To Stop Bleeding

The charm to stop bleeding was most peculiar because it worked on animals as well as people and it worked at a distance.

William Kiely from Killfarrasy had the charm. A mare of Bob Phelan’s jumped a gate and burst a vein in her leg when she hit the top rail. The workman ran for William. He had a prayer that he used to say to stop the bleeding. The workman urged him to come quickly but he answered, “I said the prayer, it will be stopped when I get there” – and it was.
bleeding
The charm to stop bleeding was passed from a man to a woman to a man and could not be used unless someone requested it. (I was privileged to be given the prayer to stop bleeding by Tommy Drohan, who got it from his grandmother.) St. Martin’s blood was also used to clear bleeding. On St. Martin’s eve (November 10th) a cock or some domestic animal was killed and the blood was sprinkled on the door-post and also on a cloth. This cloth was kept safely and applied to any bleeding wound.

For every ailment there was a folk-cure – an eelskin for tralach [tráileaċ], or cork under the matress for cramps in the legs, boiling potato-water for hangnail, oatmeal water for freckles, a cobweb or a key down the back of the neck for nosebleed. Many of the old cures are lost and very few of them are used. Nowadays, however, there are still people to whom we turn in times of specific need – the healers and the people with “the cure” .

A Foreword

Fenor 1884 – 1984

A Foreword by Rev. Gerard Purcell, P.P.

Fr. John Dowley

It is good to remember that its site has been a place of prayer and sacrifice for many years – for a church stood in this very place before the present building was erected. It was, surely, a magnificent demonstration of faith in God and trust in his people on the part of Fr. Dowley to embark on building the church one hundred years ago at a time when economic and social conditions were very different from our own. This little book is a worthy record of the faith and lives of these courageous people and a celebration of their great trust and hope in God’s goodness to them.

Fr. G. Purcell

And it is good that we celebrate because there is special significance in this church where God’s people in Fenor have gathered down the years to worship as a community. Here the Holy Sacrifice is offered; here we are nourished with the Bread of Life; here our sins are forgiven; here homes are sanctified “in the root” through the sacrament of marriage; here our loved ones are laid to rest; and here our children, in baptism, are welcomed into the Body of Christ.


I am sure that the memories and people recalled in this book will give much enjoyment to many, perhaps in a special way to those of you who read it in places many miles from Fenor. May it also bring you the Lord’s blessing on you and yours at this time of our celebrations. What we celebrate with joy on this centenary we owe in great measure to those gone before us. Let us hope and pray that we may be worthy successors to them as we echo the prayer that your parents and grandparents recited after the rosary at night time:”Thank God for our own Church”.

Fenor 1884 – 1984

Parish Life in the Past

Fenor 1884 – 1984

These stories, which relate in some way to the religious life of the parishioners of Fenor, were taken from the book “Fenor – Its Facts, Faces and Folklore” which was published in 1994 for the centenary of the Church of the Immaculate Conception in Fenor. Of course, many of the stories and much of the folklore would be familiar to people of other parishes and, indeed, of other countries.

Doctor

The many “cures” and piseóga came down from an age when doctors were few and far between and people had to rely on their own devices to survive illness.
foxglove
It’s easy, now, to laugh at some of these cures but many of them did work and from them scientists were able to extract the essential ingredients such as penicillin (from the fungus Penicillium notatum) and digitalis (from Digitalis purpurea, the common foxglove).

So read and learn and develop a new respect for the people of the time. Do you not wonder how we would fare if we were parachuted into the middle of 1884?

Fr. Connolly Remembers

Fenor 1996 – Diary of a Parish Community

“Fr. Connolly Remembers”

It was on Wednesday, May 27th 1987, while I was on sick leave from my Canadian ministry, that I motored from Dublin to Fenor for the celebration of the Eucharist. At this time Fr. Gerry Purcell, the parish priest of Fenor and Dunhill, was having much difficulty in filling the vacant curacy at Fenor. The occasion I came for was the feast of the Ascension and the following weekend, having followed Fr. Gerry’s directions and availed of his hospitality, I celebrated the Vigil Mass at Fenor.

It was a beautiful summer’s evening as I was talking to some of the parishioners at the church gate after Mass when a lady said to me, ‘Would you ever come and stay with us? We do not have a priest’. My immediate reaction was one of amazement. I was familiar with the shortage of priests in Africa and Canada but I never expected to hear what I had in Ireland. Well aware of what it means to a community to have a resident priest, my sympathy and interest were aroused as I was to be in Ireland for the coming twelve months. So as I had a good look around I felt that the ministry would be within my capacity and that the coastal environment, which had great personal appeal, would be most suitable. In due course, I went for a walk with Fr. Gerry and expressed my interest. He was very pleased to be able to help Fenor and his wish was that I might be available for two years but, at that time, I could only commit myself for one year. After the appropriate arrangements were made I took up residence and so commenced a very pleasant period of my life and ministry in Ireland.

As I reflect on that year, special memories come to mind – the faith of the community and their trust in God; their caring interest in each other; the community involvement in the annual Sale of Work; the care of the church and adjacent cemetery; the friendliness of people; my visits to homes and to the school, especially the visits to the sick at home or in hospital; the joy of the First Friday Communion visits; the beautiful singing of the children’s choir; the friendliness of clergy and my many walks on the beaches of Annestown and Kilfarrissey; the daily gift of milk; the generosity of people on my departure.

After my year in Fenor with my health renewed, a cousin said to me, ‘Fenor was the making of you’.

Fr. Stephen Remembers

Fenor 1996 – Diary of a Parish Community

“Fr. Stephen Remembers”

by Fr. Stephen O’Brien C.C.

On All Souls’ Day [November 2nd, 1996] I was passing Fenor Church but something drew me in. As I picked my way nimbly through the fading light and headstones into the small porch, kneeling alone in the front pew in the dark church with only one small red flicker of light, memories of faces and places began to flood back through me, of my five years among the people of Fenor.

On a bright September morning in 1981 I was told that my first appointment was to a parish called Dunhill and Fenor. The latter name I simply associated with Annestown cliffs where my father had camped in a bell-tent during the war years, cycling each day to work in Waterford. After fourteen years in college institutional life I was glad to have my own house at last, even if it could fit two families. Many people enquired if I had felt this change very traumatic but I honestly did not, perhaps because I wanted to move out of college anyhow and because I retained my teaching connection with the college, three days a week during my first year. This gradually lessened as I became involved more in parish life.

My first initiation into the new ‘parish life’ saw me sitting on a tiny yellow chair at my first Sale of Work Committee meeting one Monday October night in the school hall. I vividly remember spending the night busy stapling what seemed like thousands of tickets together in threes and wondering to myself whether this was the pinnacle of my pastoral involvement! Little did I realise the story of commitment and dedication that I was to be a part of for a few years which culminated each first Sunday of December and which was the focus for so much community activity. Another early memory finds me perplexed, standing perishing, with my knees knocking, in a windswept circus tent, attempting to pull a winning ticket out of a huge drum and wishing I was back with my books. I never won anything in all the subsequent Sales and often committed the sin of jealousy when the parish priest invariably headed off with something, even if it was only a cuddly bear.

All of this great effort was in aid of Fenor School which I soon learned was the centre of community life. Some of my fondest memories are set in that bright place and I could fill pages with joyful reminiscences. I choose simply to remember our first Christmas School Concert. Having just welcomed everyone and introduced the singing angels, and struggling with a plainly over-full schedule, I darted to Dunhill Church to help celebrate a Reconciliation service. Then straight back to Fenor breathless, I arrived just in time to walk out and nonchalantly thank all and sundry for coming out to our concert, only to be told by a small voice after my few words that, ‘Father, you said exactly the same thing as the new Master said just before you’. So much for powers of bilocation.

Christmas and Easter are the high points of liturgical celebration and Fenor Church lends itself so well to the intimacy of such key moments of the year. The thrill of watching the darkened church come alight as tiny flames crept from pew to pew until, finally, the whole gathering is one bright place, will never grow stale for me.

First Communion and Confirmation are also very special moments and I learned to marvel at the extraordinary way small boys and girls today take to using a hand-held microphone and tell their part of the story with consummate confidence. But it also gave me a little sense of how parents must feel when, almost overnight, these same wide-eyed six-year-olds are suddenly Confirmation candidates and heading into those awkward teenage years.

Of course, the staple diet of births, marriages and deaths are the daily bread of parish work. I remember especially the baptisms we were lucky to have at the Easter Vigil, a real live bouncing baby could hardly be surpassed as a symbol of new life and new growth in any parish. Fenor Church lends itself especially well to marriages, the intimacy of the place adding to the joy of a young couple and their families celebrating the beginning of a new parish family.

But it was with the rituals surrounding the end of life’s journey that many of my most vivid memories of Fenor lie. Sadly there were many such ritual-times over the last five years as we said goodbye to dear friends, young and old alike. Never before had I experienced the extraordinary solidarity of a small rural community as it united time and time again to support a grief-stricken family with age-old customs of quiet kindness and compassion. Before the sad news was barely hours old those mountains of sandwiches and home baking would be quietly arriving from the neighbours, tangible tokens of comfort. I can honestly say that the most personally fulfilling aspect for me of being a priest is the great privilege it affords to be allowed to enter that sacred space of family life in times of sad loss and partings when life is stripped back to the bone and we struggle to comfort one another from the well of our Christian faith and hope in Jesus. The soft soil of Fenor graveyard holds too many of those I knew to ever forget their memory and I recalled each one that All Souls’ Day recently as I walked and prayed among their marking stones.

But thankfully there were also many joyful times and the celebrations to mark one hundred years of beautiful Fenor church was certainly the highpoint of these for me. Again, so many vivid memories flood in, but I still remember my unutterable joy when a priest friend arrived into the sacristy a quarter of an hour before the Mass with a big old suitcase full of white vestments, one for each priest in the audience. It was the icing on the cake and indeed I felt that the Lord was truly smiling on us. I certainly won’t ever forget that Mass and the glorious night (and morning) of music and dancing under that huge white and green marquee: ni beidh a leithead ann aris. Nor will I lose my huge admiration for all the many people, and especially the key few, who did such Trojan work to make those days in Fenor such halcyon ones.

On a sunny evening in mid-June last, I arrived back to my big house to find an unexpected voice on my new answering machine. It was that of my bishop! Since that day I have begun to come to terms with a new life and the challenge of a huge urban parish. I am still at the stage of putting up new curtains and making new friends. I am so grateful to the Lord that my first experience of parish was with the communities of Fenor and Dunhill, with Fr. Gerard Purcell as parish priest. And as I gave thanks in Fenor Church that evening recently, I remembered all my friends with gratitude and felt happy that an important part of my life lies in those wooden pews, red stones and kind hearts in Fenor near the sea.

The Purgatorial Society

Fenor 1996 – Diary of a Parish Community

“The Purgatorial Society”

by Bob Rockett

Are we going to let it die? This is a question that can only be answered by the people of the parish. It’s the oldest institution in the parish and probably the only one of its kind in existence but, sadly, the information confirming its origin and history has not been preserved. Worse still is the fact that not too many reading this will know what it is all about.

We are, of course, talking about the Purgatorial Society. We have good reason to believe it was founded sometime in the 17th century and has an unbroken record to the present time. But it is in jeopardy now for want of an injection of an increase in its membership and some young blood to bring it up to date and into the 21st century.

Those who, perhaps, have never heard of it will ask what is its function. It was started to help people in times of distress and, from what we can gather, it was known in its beginning as ‘The Box’. A box was placed somewhere, probably at the church door, and those who could afford it contributed. Funds from this were distributed to those in dire straits through serious illness or death. It was later updated as a means whereby anyone could, by paying a small subscription twice a year, provide something towards the cost of their funeral. There was also the benefit of perpetual Masses for living and deceased members and many of past generations joined just for the Mass benefit.

In this age of social welfare and so many insurances, it’s hard to realise that, fifty years ago, so many people were so badly off. There were occasions when the breadwinner of a family, having been ill over a long period, had died without a penny in the house. If he was a member of the society, the family had only to go to the treasurer and get instant cash. It was considered a great provision against the worry of such a situation arising.

The society served the parish well and it deserves to be continued, if only for its history. Sadly, the records don’t seem to have been preserved. This may be due to the fact that its secretaries were appointed for life and continued to hold office even when they were no longer capable. Also, there seem to have been problems in getting the books handed over. Most families in the parish had an input in its survival down the years. Here are the names of some of them I can recall: James Denn, John Connolly, David Beresford, John Rockett, John Power, Johnny Molloy, and Paddy Flynn, who are all now sharing in the Masses for deceased members. The present committee is composed of Bobby Power, Jimmy Gough, Jimmy Delaney, Denis Hynes, Jimmy Walsh, Bob Rockett, and Michael Flynn. The secretary is Mrs. Mary Power. The subscription – the benefits are £50 on the death of a fully-paid member with sharing the Masses. Those age 25 are eligible to join for the yearly subscription. Others are taken in at the discretion of the committee by paying the equivalent of what they would have paid had they joined at 25 years of age.

Today there are many services, perhaps, filling the role of the society and it may not be so necessary, but its function could easily be updated to bring it up to present-day requirements. The chairman and committee earnestly ask the people of the parish and all its surroundings to give the matter some consideration. The A.G.M. takes place in February, 1997.

[ Associations concerned with praying for the dead are older than Christianity. Provision for burial was first made by “La Compagnia della Pietà”, founded in Rome in 1448. – Comms Team. ]