Man on a mission
MONDAY
THE evening doesn’t start promisingly. An hour before the big event, hailstones are knocking lumps out of the footpaths and there’s a wind that would shred metal. The alternatives to venturing out to attend a novena look appealing.
But the Church of St Patrick and St Brigid in Clane, Co Kildare seems oblivious to any competition. It’s warm and welcoming, its pillars and walls festooned with brightly coloured drawings by local children depicting their First Communion.
Among the sketches of altars, churches and chalices, there is a drawing of bouncy castle complete with a child sliding down its exterior, squealing: WHEE! As 7.30pm approaches, Fr Paul O’Boyle appears and makes a few last minute adjustments around the altar, causing the early arrivals to jump in their seats by tapping the microphones a tad too enthusiastically.
This is his sort-of day off. It’s the day he tries to wake up in his native Graiguecullen on the Carlow-Laois border after an overnight visit to his mother, and gets in some golf or reading or catches up on chores.
But often there are meetings, a funeral, work on the parish newsletter or whatever else might crop up in an unpredictable schedule. Tonight it’s the last in a series of four Monday night masses for the parish novena. “There’s supposed to be nine but there’s a recession,” he says later, only half-jokingly.
If a recession is characterised by fewer employees and falling demand, then that is indeed what the Catholic Church in Ireland is experiencing. The Parish of Clane & Rathcoffey with its two churches and 10,000 inhabitants has one priest now compared to when the population was 1,000 and there were three men in collars.
Mass attendances have fallen too but even in recessionary times there are good days and tonight, as the clock marks 7.30pm, about 300 of the church’s 500 seats are filled.
Catherina McKiernan, Olympian and former European Cross Country Champion, is the guest speaker and she delivers tales from her childhood in Cavan where the rosary was said every night with a sheet of newspaper over the telly so no-one would peek. You couldn’t turn the telly off because it was a contrary machine that wouldn’t come back on for ages after it cooled down.
Her mother never watched her races but went out the back field and said the rosary until her daughter was successfully past the finish line.
When she won the London Marathon, she had a miraculous medal in her shorts pocket.
“Prayer and going to Mass were part of my training,” she says.
The congregation are enchanted and Fr Paul is delighted. Sports-mad himself, he can’t resist a reference to St Paul’s words to Timothy. “I have fought the good fight, I have run the race to the finish, I have kept the faith.”
Back outside, the wind is still biting and the sky full of mischief but several dozen parishioners wait around to chat to Catherina and are shepherded into the Parish Hall for tea and biscuits.
Fr Paul, who served tea (“We had salad — I’m not a great cook) to Catherina, her husband and two children in his house beforehand, is now checking people have cuppas and a place to sit.
As for the elusive day off? “Maybe next week. But sure this was great.”
TUESDAY
THERE are 77.5 people in the church for morning Mass, the half being a baby in a buggy kept within bolting distance of the door at the back, doted over by what appears to be his grandmother.
As it turns out the baby is good as gold and the only interruption is a mobile phone ringing and the embarrassed man who darts out to answer it.
It’s a simple ring tone, not the latest pop chart tune, reflecting the age profile of the attendance. Overwhelmingly over 50 and female, the departure of the mobile phone owner leaves the male contingent dramatically reduced.
It’s the Feast of the Visitation and Fr Paul’s homily is about the importance of visiting, of checking on each other and maintaining connections.
He’s finished in 20 minutes but waits outside the front door — as always — to meet and greet and catch the local news and requests.
Then it’s over to the Parish Shop where the winners of the Parish Lotto are awaiting their cheque.
It’s the fourth time in the three years since the lotto started that the jackpot has been won and this time €11,000 is being handed over to parishioners Richard and Mary Greene, with a portion going to their neighbour and ticket seller, Moira Fogarty.
There are photographs to be taken for the local paper, Fr Paul encouraging smiles by telling Richard that he’s informed Revenue of the windfall and a tax official will be along shortly.
The lotto is essential to helping to chip away at the €680,000 debt left from the €3 million spent on renovating the church and converting the adjacent former convent into the Parish Centre where there’s the shop, hall and offices.
They hadn’t intended spending so much but during the building work, an electrical fault set the church on fire and the renovations wound up more extensive than planned.
“We did a special door to door collection and people were unbelievably generous. We raised €150,000,” says Fr Paul. “You couldn’t do it now. People don’t have it to give.”
Still, the lotto is well supported with 90 sellers out knocking on doors. So far it has paid out €114,000 in prize money and cleared €145,000 in profit.
Money is an ongoing concern. Between the basket collections and envelope contributions, the parish took in €3,562.27 last week so on average it takes two months worth of collections to pay the annual diocesan levy, currently charged at €25,000.
“I would feel it’s too much,” says Fr Paul. “It’s actually gone up in recent years and in terms of value for money, we would have a lot of questions.
“The money that we are sending in could impinge on our ability to provide services locally.”
A fundraising concert was held in Clane last week and there are discussions in the parish office this afternoon about the annual duck race. It’s settled that it should be on July 2 on the lake in Donadea Forest Park, to coincide with the annual parish picnic.
Fr Paul wonders aloud if the real ducks will literally have their feathers ruffled. “You see the practical concerns of parish life?” grins Trish O’Neill, whose official title is youth ministry co-ordinator but whose job includes an extremely varied set of responsibilties.
“And it’s a Saturday,” she says, anticipating Fr Paul’s next question. “Sunday is football day. We don’t do anything on Sunday,” she teases.
“We just about do Mass,” Fr Paul replies, pulling a martyr’s face. “It’s an awful drag.”
And yes, he is joking.
He’s been prevailed upon to meet up with the lotto winners for coffee and it provides a chance to catch up on some local news and have a chat with Moira Fogarty who doubles as a funeral minister and will lead prayers in the home of the bereaved and assist families unfamiliar with the details of requiem Mass at times when Fr Paul can’t get to them.
“I can’t be everywhere. Last month we had four funerals and five communions, some on the same day. It’s good to know that there is a member of the team out at the house if I can’t get there.”
Later he pops out to Rathcoffey to go over details of the end of term Mass with the principal of the local primary school and then heads over to the little Church of the Sacred Heart where he does Sunday Mass to check stores in the sacristy.
He bumps into parishioner John Dunleavy, a Kerryman who is studying for the permanent diaconate.
Their discussion turns to the way the scheme has been introduced. “Without consultation,” says Fr Paul. “There is a lot of confusion over what it will mean for lay ministers.”
They also wonder about the likelihood of women deacons. “There probably will be but not in my lifetime,” John says. Fr Paul is inclined to agree but thinks it’s a shame. “I would love it to be opened up to men and women. I feel strongly about that.”
There is more administration work to be done this afternoon and later it’s back to lotto business as the Parish Centre hosts this week’s lotto draw.
“I’m hoping it won’t be won,” Fr Paul admits. “Not for a few more weeks anyway. A jackpot win is great because it keeps people interested and gives back to the parish but it also eats into the proceeds. It’s a mixed blessing.”
WEDNESDAY
MORNING Mass is just over when the first class boys from Scoil Phadraig arrive in the church, fresh from learning how the post office works through a practical lesson in letter mailing.
“Hello Father,” they call out spontaneously, waving in his direction. Their teacher introduces him, just in case there is any doubt, and one boy puts up his hand.
“Fr Paul did my mum’s, em, my mum’s thing in our house. I forget the word.”
Fr Paul helps him out. “That’s right,” he says, addressing the child by name. “When your mam died I was in your house and I did the funeral. The little boy is pleased to have his memory of the event confirmed but the moment is intensely sad. He is not alone in experiencing tragedy. In the class of 28, three of the boys have lost a parent and Fr Paul has officiated at two of the funerals. It’s an unexpected conversation to be having with children so young but the ensuing discussion is gentle and ends with a reminder that the church is a good place to say a prayer for people who have died, especially the mammies and daddies, grannies and grandads.
The boys take it in their stride and then throw themselves happily into a game of guess the saints in the stained glass windows.
The banter followed a similar pattern at Scoil Mochua in Rathcoffey yesterday, Fr Paul asking questions about the church, the saints, the religious celebrations and the children’s answers greeted with praise, an encouraging “We’re getting warmer” or a diplomatic “We’ll try again”.
Seeing the vulnerability of the children and their trust in the priest raises the unavoidable question of child protection.
The subject hangs over the Diocese of Kildare and Leighlin in a very obvious way because it has been run by an administrator for over a year since the resignation of Bishop Jim Moriarty following criticisms in the Murphy Report of his handling of abuse allegations against a priest when he was auxiliary bishop in Dublin.
Fr Paul is the eldest of six children and uncle to 14 nieces and nephews, the youngest of whom, baby Ross, is nearly a week old and he hasn’t yet got to see.
He is a natural with children, can’t imagine parish life without them and can’t abide the thoughts of someone hurting them.
Everyone who engages with children and young people in parish activities or who might encounter children in that setting has to complete a HSE child protection training programme. That includes the 19-year-old folk group leader, the 79-year-old volunteer collection counter and the 46-year-old priest in between.
Everyone has been retrospectively garda vetted and all must adhere to a strict system of parental permission slips, roll calls and registers, signing in and signing out when they use the sacristy or are in any other private part of the church buildings.
There is a lay child protection committee, a Sunday dedicated to the subject once a year and notices about the parish child protection policy on the walls of the church and parish centre.
“It’s not mandatory from a church point of view but we’ve made it mandatory here. The way the church is in Ireland, you have 26 dioceses and they’re each a little kingdom and often it depends on the personalities in the parish what steps are taken.
“That’s not really good enough. The church collectively needs to be a lot more vocal and a lot more proactive. We would welcome an audit of our policy and child protection measures — an independent audit because there’s no point the police policing themselves.”
Next up are the baptism calls. The first two of the seven mums who will be bringing their babies to the churches in Rathcoffey and Clane on Saturday are in and delight in showing off their latest additions and taking delivery of the prayer leaflet they’re asked to cast an eye over before the ceremony.
The third family are moving house and haven’t yet arrived at the address where they are registered and Fr Paul knows he’s now unlikely to see them before Saturday, or the other four families, but the lay baptism ministers — Trish O’Neill is one — will drop by on his behalf.
In the afternoon Fr Paul is going to Newbridge to see the Clane U13 footballers beat Naas in the Junior A Final. “All the parents will be down there so it’s a chance to keep in touch with them and lend a bit of support.”
He also gets in his weekly visit to Naas Hospital to call on local patients — he tries to do the Dublin hospitals once a month — and then he meets up with some colleagues from other parishes who have formed a group where they can discuss issues of common concern.
“It’s good to know what’s going on in other places and share your thoughts. It’s a social thing but it’s also a good support.”
Tonight he watches the Clane senior footballers beat rivals Moorefield 4-18 to 1-8. That’s quite therapeutic too.
THURSDAY
FR Paul is on his way out the front door of the Parish Shop as a silver-haired couple make their way in.
Nods and smiles are exchanged and then Fr Paul takes a gamble and stops them. He’s seen them at Mass earlier this morning but doesn’t think they’re local.
They are Ine and Michael Gibbons, a Clonakilty woman and a Castlebar man who have lived in London for the past 40 years but have a house in Clane and try to get back whenever they can.
“We love your Mass,” says Ine. “We go to Mass every morning in London too but it’s not the same.”
There is a bit of banter before Fr Paul directs them to shop assistant Mary Deay, and parish administrator, Damian McCaffrey, calling out to them to look after the pair. “I have a young couple here looking to do the pre-marriage course,” he says.
Joking aside, he’s pleased to know he still knows enough about his parishioners to spot newcomers and occasional visitors.
Yesterday, he got bamboozled trying to find one of the baptismal families in one of the many extensive housing estates that sprang up in recent years.
“When I was in Edenderry (his first assignment in 1991), I would have been in every house at some stage,” he had sighed. “It’s got a lot harder to put names to faces and faces to addresses and the less we get out and about, the harder it’s going to get.”
At his house a young couple are waiting to sign their wedding papers and the release form that will enable them to get married in the bride-to-be’s Westmeath home parish.
Fr Paul’s secretary has already got them started on the paperwork, knowing Fr Paul will step in to go over the ceremonial and spiritual sides to the day when he arrives.
Few priests have housekeepers in the traditional, Mrs Doyle sense of the word. Mary, who works with Fr Paul, is there three days a week doing a mix of housekeeping and office work. Dealing with bills and correspondence alone takes up much of her time.
“I eat when I’m hungry,” says Fr Paul of fending for himself. “There are good takeaways in the town.”
On the first Friday of the month, there are communion calls to around 30 elderly or ill parishioners who can’t get to the church.
Fr Paul does as many as he can, sharing the rounds with lay Eucharistic ministers, but with a wedding tomorrow, he’s doing them today instead and hopes people aren’t put out.
Wexford man Percy Jones is far from put out by the unexpected call. “I have good days and bad days. Today’s a good one,” he replies to the inquiry about his health.
“Theresa’s gone shopping,” he adds by way of proof. Since he got cancer, his wife Theresa rarely leaves him. The fact that she’s gone shopping means today, she’s not worried about popping out for a while.
Communion is given at the kitchen table, Percy sitting with a vase of flowers and a celebrity magazine at his elbow. The moment is light on formality.
After a prayer and a bit of chat, Fr Paul is on his way, Percy telling him Theresa will be sorry she missed him though his face says, in a way, he’s glad she did.
The next stop is to Harry and Marie Farrell, fifth generation farmers whose sons now work the land although the border collies who patrol the path to their door checking out visitors, clearly still consider them their masters.
A fire is lighting in the sitting room and Marie is in an armchair between it and the double bed that was moved into the room when the stairs became too much for her.
On the mantelpiece is a photograph of her late uncle, a monsignor in Sydney, with Éamon de Valera, Sean MacEntee and Frank Aiken, thought to have been taken during deValera’s trip to Australia in 1948.
Marie can’t be sure of the date but she likes the fact that Dev is, uncharacteristically, laughing heartily. Fr Paul sits on the bed while he gives communion, a collie watching him closely from the door.
Back in Clane, he finds Kathleen O’Neill mourning the death of the bullfinch she has watched feed in her garden the past two years.
Her garden is gorgeous but she insists it’s a state. At 91, she says she doesn’t get after the weeds as much as she used to. She updates Fr Paul on her husband, 97-year-old Kevin who is in a local nursing home, and replies in the affirmative when Fr Paul checks if she’s still able to receive the Mass over the CB radio that broadcasts to within a few miles radius of the church..
“I am,” she says with a wink. “It’s better than the real thing because I can turn you off.”
This afternoon Fr Paul is heading to Portlaoise for a meeting of the Association of Catholic Priests, a group formed last year to represent priests who have a liberal view on a range of issues relating to the practices, policies and teachings of the church.
A current topic of concern is the planned introduction in November of the new missal which the ACP feels uses language that is too convoluted and archaic.
“I’m not aware of any genuine consultation or dialogue around it. I’m disappointed that there hasn’t been consultation.”
Tonight he’s in Rathcoffey where locals are planning an art and crafts exhibition to raise funds for the parish. It’s not taking place until October but in a busy parish, you plan when you can.
FRIDAY
WITH the wedding taking place today, Fr Paul has arranged for someone else to say morning Mass.
Sometimes his predecessor, Fr Denis Harrington, who retired four years ago, fills in and Jesuit priests from nearby Clongowes boarding school also assist when they can.
It’s no harm to have an extra hour free — his five-year-old Ford Mondeo has a slow puncture that he’s been meaning to get to the garage for a while.
A few hours later, he’s dealing with car matters of a different kind, advising guests at Rathcoffey Church where not to park so that the way is clear for the arrival of the bride.
After a dismal week it’s a scorching day, and the mood is celebratory. “We do 50 weddings, 180 baptisms and 40 funerals a year so the happy days outnumber the sad,” he says.
Fr Paul has a novel approach to the pre-marriage course — he tells couples to climb Croagh Patrick. “If they’re still speaking by the time they reach the top, that’s a good sign.”
That part of the course isn’t compulsory but he was delighted to find the young couple he met yesterday had taken him at his word.
When he went through the ceremony with Sarah Ring and Jonathon Kelly, he urged them to ensure their guests get fully involved by encouraging them not to skip the church and to come on time and by choosing at least one prayer that they’re all to join in saying.
“It’s almost easier to do a funeral mass because everyone is with you, everyone is focused on what’s happening,” he told them. At weddings, he’s competing with general giddiness, dozens of cameras and a fashion show.
“This is your day. You’re choosing to marry in the church and you’re choosing your guests to be witness to that. Don’t be afraid to tell them it’s important to you.”
At Rathcoffey Church today, the guests’ behaviour is impeccable as they gather to see local girl, Susan Doherty, marry her Drogheda fiancee, Brendan Hilliard, on the fifth anniversary of the day they met.
They arrive on time, listen attentively and resume their seats promptly after photographing the kiss. Susan and Brendan haven’t chosen a prayer for all to say together but a song has the same effect, an uncle of the bride transfixing everyone with an unaccompanied rendition of She Moved Through the Fair.
Thankfully, today’s ceremony has a better outcome than the couple in the song and Fr Paul leaves Susan and Brendan to their happy ending. It’s the first dry day all week and he has to cut the grass back at his house.
In the evening he finally gets to see his newest nephew and it’s worth the wait — even if the tot does sleep through the entire visit.
SATURDAY
ONE boom hasn’t ended in Clane — the baby business.
Today’s baptismal group, seven babies in two churches, is manageable but one Saturday recently there were 17 infants.
“We got a big tank and hosed them all down,” says Fr Paul. He’s joking.
Rathcoffey Church is first and there he meets again one of the mums and babies whose home he called to during the week.
Adam Burke is a big, bright-eyed, happy baby. “He’s big now, yes, but he was 11lb 2oz when he was born,” mum Mary had revealed.
The sister next to him, Alannah, was equally robust at birth but their big sister, Alison, who is to be Adam’s godmother, was the opposite, weighing in at just 1lb 11oz when she was born prematurely 13 years ago.
“There was no big day out for her baptism. We had it done immediately because we didn’t know if she was going to be okay.” Afterwards, Mary did the mini-marathon to raise funds for the neonatal unit in thanks.
Fr Paul senses an untapped resource and his instinct is correct. Mary confides she has been thinking of volunteering somewhere in town and Fr Paul is quick to sign her up as a potential recruit to the parish team.
He loves visits like these. “You don’t want to become a functionary, wheeled in and wheeled out for the sacraments and never seen outside the church building,” he had said earlier in the week. “I would be upset if that was the way things went. I want to meet people. The parish is its people.”
Today Adam is wearing the christening gown his dad, Alan, wore 40 years ago when it was crocheted for him by his grandmother.
Across the aisle the parents of baby Emma Jane have also arrived and Fr Paul begins the service, warning the godparents of the crucial role they’ve been chosen to play in the children’s lives. “You must never, ever forget their birthdays until they are 21,” he smiles, before getting down to the more serious business.
At Clane an hour later, five more babies are waiting. Katie Rita, Leo Esekiel, Alannah Lily, Kyle Patrick and Kaitlyn Aimee all have their names attached to pews so each family knows where to sit and Fr Paul knows who he’s baptising.
But before he begins, he has a special task to peform. Two of the guests, an uncle of one of the babies and his wife of 24 hours, have asked for a blessing for their civil wedding.
Fr Paul brings them up to the altar, first blessing their rings and then themselves, then saying a prayer over them and finishing with a flourish: “You may now kiss the bride.” Applause follows and one of the babies starts bawling.
As he did in Rathcoffey, Fr Paul welcomes the families unconditionally. “We love to see you coming to the church with your children and we’d love to see you coming again. That’s the future of our parish.”
Afterwards the church won’t be empty long — Saturday evening Mass is at 6.30pm and there are confessions beforehand although there’s seldom more than one or two seeking it.
In common with parishes around Ireland, confession is one business that seems to have irrevocably declined on a grand scale.
SUNDAY
. THE week ends as grey and wet as it began but Clane Church still draws a crowd of about 200 for the 9.30am Mass.
Normally, Fr Paul scoots over to Rathcoffey afterwards to do the 10.30am but this morning he’s called in reinforcements as he’s been asked to help say Mass for his beloved Laois senior team in a hotel before they face Dublin in the Leinster Football Championship.
It’s a compliment and he readily accepted the invitation but he has doubts about the wisdom of it. “If they lose after me saying Mass for them, I’ll feel twice as bad.”
Clearly the uphill task facing Laois is on his mind as his homily this morning features the achievement of Matt Loughrey, who has just finished climbing Croagh Patrick for the 365th day in a row.
Fr Paul keeps his concerns to himself and instead has the congregation include in their prayers local man Tomas O’Connor who will be lining out for Kildare against Meath in the same competition today. As it turns out. Kildare win and Laois lose. Accepting commiserations by text message later, Fr Paul is, as ever, practical and philosophical. “There’s only so much a Mass can do.”
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