The cold wind whipped through our coats as we walked past Copley Square through downtown Boston. It was around 5 p.m., and the city was just getting dark. The Rev. Tony Corcoran, S.J., who had just received his doctorate that morning, had left his congratulatory party early to come with us to visit some of our homeless friends in the city. A Jesuit missionary, Corcoran had returned after seven years in Novosibirsk, Siberia to finish his doctorate in Boston. As a child, I had imagined missionaries as gregarious proselytizers who preached on street corners and baptized crowds of people who spoke different languages. So walking through the city, I was curious to see how Corcoran would interact with the people we met. I was secretly hoping for a miracle, a fiery argument with a heretic, or maybe even an on-the-spot conversion.
Instead, on that freezing night in downtown Boston, I saw Christ.
As we turned down a side street off of the main square, the first thing that I noticed was that Corcoran seemed to be praying constantly. I expected that, as a missionary, he would make us pray as well. But when he finally did invite us to pray with him, he asked in a way that caught me completely off-guard. He told us he didn't want to burden us but that he'd thought of a good prayer we could say. "So unless we were violently opposed," maybe we could try it. Then he went on to suggest we split up and circle the block, praying that Mary would ask Jesus to love each person we passed. Looking at me, he said, "You could be the only person to have ever prayed for him or her before." I had never thought of prayer like that.
I also began noticing that every time we stopped to speak with someone, Corcoran had just what they needed; and he gave everything away. To one person he gave his gloves, to another a coffee. For us, he produced vitamin C lozenges to keep us from getting sick out in the cold.
When we finally returned to campus he gave away his jacket to a student who didn't have one. Each time, Corcoran gave in such a way that the person receiving his gift didn't quite realize what had happened until he had gone. And, with each thing that Corcoran gave away, he seemed to get happier. I could almost see the weights being lifted from him. By the time we got back, he was literally radiating joy.
When we arrived at St. Mary's Chapel for Mass, 30 students were there. All of them had heard earlier that afternoon that Corcoran was saying Mass. I was shocked. I haven't taken Fr. McGowan's stats class, but I have a feeling that the odds of getting 30 undergraduates to show up to a 9 p.m. Mass on a Friday night aren't great.
Reflecting on that day and my subsequent encounters with Corcoran, I finally realize why the early Christians were willing to die for their faith. To Corcoran, like the early Christians before him, Jesus of Nazareth isn't an old, dead, charismatic philosopher who had some great insights about social justice.
Jesus is a living person who loves him more than anyone else on earth. To follow and be loved by Christ is the most important and indeed the only thing in Father Tony's life. And this love that Father Tony feels shines out from him. He has traveled around the world seeing things that most people never will experience. But when you sit down with him he is somehow able to discover your deepest and most simple loves in life and share in your joy. After talking to Corcoran, the whole world seems like it is laughing. And, after watching how he loves, suddenly Christianity seems like the most concrete thing in the world.
When it was finally time for him to leave last week, he brought us into the chapel to pray with him. Then, as silently and as unobtrusively as he came to Boston College, he left us to return to his people in Siberia. It was only then that I fully realized what a missionary is. He is somebody who loves more than anybody else. He draws people to Christ simply by giving of himself as Christ did. Before he left, Corcoran saw the sadness in our eyes and said, "Remember, the closer we all get to Christ the closer we will come to one another." BC could use a few more missionaries like this remarkable man.
Colm Willis is a Heights staff columnist. He welcomes comments at willisc@bcheights.com.
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