Cynthia Power at Holy Rosary Church in Portugal Cove South, Nfld..Greg Locke/The Globe and Mail
Cynthia Power never thought she’d be one to thwart the law. Or to threaten to drive out anyone new to the small fishing town where she was born and raised. But that was before last month. Before she and the community leaders of Portugal Cove South in southern Newfoundland decided to take matters into their own hands.
After a Sunday mass in early September, Mayor Clarence Molloy and a few locals marched up the front steps of the town’s little slate grey church, tools in hand. They drilled and chiselled, switching out the locks in a bold act of inhospitality that is rare in these parts.
“Potential buyers are NOT welcome,” read the yellow poster taped in one front window. “Our church is NOT for sale,” said another.
At the entrance, Ms. Power and others stapled her hand-drawn no trespassing sign, written in marker in a menacing medieval script. It listed those banned from the property, including Archbishop Peter Hundt, head of the Catholic Church in Newfoundland, along with any staff from the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of St. John’s, “real estate agents and lawyers affiliated with said persons.”
The people seized their church after learning it was in the process of being sold to help the Roman Catholic Church pay a $104-million settlement to survivors of historical abuse, including those who suffered at St. John’s Mount Cashel orphanage from the 1940s to the early 1960s.
Holy Rosary Church in Portugal Cove South was built in 1917 by the first families who settled here to fish the cod and has always been maintained by the community.Greg Locke/The Globe and Mail
“We’re going to stand firm and hopefully make our voices loud and clear that anyone who wants to buy the church in Portugal Cove South, they will not be welcome in our town,” said Ms. Power, chair of the Portugal Cove Historical Corporation in an interview.
“We really feel that we are protecting what is ours.”
Holy Rosary Church, built in 1917 by the first families who settled here to fish the cod, has always been maintained by the community – the O’Learys, the Powers and the Coombs all had their own pews, packed end to end with kids. Like most fishing outports that notch the coast of Newfoundland, the collapse of the cod stocks siphoned people elsewhere to find work. Since then, communities aged and congregations diminished – down to 25 at most on Sundays in the church atop the basalt bluffs of the town.
Still, the church was the heart of the community. Over the last several years the townspeople raised more than $136,000 to replace the roof, the siding, the steeple, the front steps, the flooring, the windows, the doors and the chandeliers. They painted the pine walls the palest shade of blue.
Ms. Power felt like someone had hit her in the gut when Father Peter Golden shared the news. The 40 or so people in attendance – about half the town – bristled in the pews around her.
“Why would someone be punished for something that we didn’t do?” said Ms. Power in the region’s trademark Irish-Newfoundland lilt. “We, the residents of Portugal Cove, did absolutely nothing wrong and we certainly didn’t cause harm to those victims.”
In early September, Ms. Power and other locals stapled her hand-drawn no trespassing sign to the church's entrance.Greg Locke/The Globe and Mail
The sale didn’t come out of nowhere. The prospect had loomed since 2022, when Holy Rosary was one of 43 church properties listed to settle abuse victims’ claims. Back then, Father Golden asked his congregation whether they would consider buying back their church from the archdiocese.
Parishioners were outraged. They’d spent years frying pancakes and bologna at church breakfast fundraisers. They’d spent $15,000 out of their own pockets to pay for new doors and windows in memory of their loved ones.
More than a year later, the church was listed for sale. “A stunning beautiful property located in a pristine community,” said the real estate ad posted in July. “Great views over the bay.” The price tag was just $48,000 – tens of thousands less than the cost community members paid for the building’s retrofit.
Fuming, Ms. Power sprang into action. First, she and other town leaders wrote to the archbishop, asking him to halt the sale. ”We strongly oppose your actions concerning our church and as a united community we will do all in our power to stop anyone from purchasing this property,” wrote Ms. Power in a letter signed by the mayor, deputy mayor and historical corporation co-chairperson.
Holy Rosary Church was listed for sale at just $48,000 – tens of thousands less than the cost community members paid for the building’s retrofit.GREG LOCKE/The Globe and Mail
Archbishop Hundt said his hands were tied. The church legally belongs to the Roman Catholic Episcopal Corporation of St. John’s, which has been held vicariously liable by the courts for the sexual abuse perpetrated by the Congregation of Christian Brothers at the Mount Cashel orphanage, he wrote in a letter dated Sept. 11. The properties must be sold to discharge the financial obligation to the victims of abuse, he added. “It is the result of a court decision that we must accept and respect.”
He repeated the same in an e-mail to The Globe: “Hopefully, if we can together accept the hurt and consequences of the sins committed against the innocent, then together we can move on to the healing, the reconciliation and the peace that God wishes us all to have.”
Father Golden, the local priest, disagrees. He, too, thinks the sale unfairly punishes parishioners, but acknowledges the issue is complex. Serving as the town’s priest for the last 38 years, he was here when the cod plant closed decades ago. He has watched school enrolment peter out. The people die off. “I’ve got a funeral again tomorrow, two funerals in the past week,” he said. “Everything is going on at the same time.”
The sale of the church is still under way, said realtor Charlie Harris. Lawyers are working through a few details, he added, and then the deal will close.
Parishioners meanwhile have hired their own legal team and are watchful of strangers in the town. For now, church agents remain locked out. Only Ms. Power and the mayor hold keys, tucked away in spots that no one else knows, as the locals pray that this will be enough to save their little church on the hill.