"Being
a missionary, and being local, not born there, not a native, but hopefully
rooted, is always being a missionary, like everyone, even if they stay in the
city where they were born. Because mission is not entirely about territory or
geography, even though that's part of where it's incarnated. Mission is about
the territory of hearts, minds and souls.
During
our ad limina, and in other places, Pope Francis would repeat that for God,
small is not a problem, it's a possibility, an opportunity. Think of the first
community in Bethlehem: how few they were, and how precious. His plan is there,
for every single person, whether they know Him or believe in Him, or one day
will stand before Him and be tasked to know Him and love Him and share Him.
Being part of a small community, to me, is a real joy and a consolation—and at
the same time a challenge. One day, may our Church be bigger, with more people.
And at the same time, this core that is here now—God works through His
remnant."
Two
memories anchor everything he believes about that remnant. The first is recent,
and it is small enough to hold in one hand. "There's a story I love,"
he remembers with a smile. "A little boy came out of the mosque on a
Friday, in a small town where I was. I was dressed as a priest. He had
obviously heard something about us at school. He had a little hat on. He came
up to me, looked at me with total innocence, curiosity and real respect, and
said: 'You're a follower of the Christ.' He didn't speak Russian, and he didn't
know the word for 'disciple' in Kyrgyz—I think he was just intrigued, as if he
had never met one, or never thought to ask somebody. I remember being very
moved by that, thinking: what a grace, to say yes. What a grace, if people can
come to us and look at us with curiosity, or skepticism, or hope—but what
greater words are there for us to hear, and let sink into our hearts, than 'Are
you a follower of the Christ?' I hope, my whole life, I can be marked as a
person—as a follower of Christ."
The
second memory is older, and it reaches back before he ever set foot in
Kyrgyzstan. "In the nineties, when I first arrived in Siberia, I would
visit Central Asia sometimes. I was always struck when I met people who called
themselves Catholic. The grandmothers, the babushkas, had been arrested in
1937, in 1941, and sent to Siberia and Central Asia. That is largely how, by
Providence, the Church exists as a structure now. I remember meeting people who
had never met a priest but were very convinced they were Catholic. I would ask
them: what does it mean to be Catholic, when you've never been to Mass, never
received any sacraments other than baptism? Some had been baptized by their
grandmothers. I asked: what do you know about being Catholic? How did you keep
your faith? There were three things people had in common, though there were as
many answers as there were people. One seems very simple to us: they knew how
to cross themselves, as we do. They would show me, with such devotion, that I
still become emotional remembering it."
On
September 29, with these images engraved deep in his soul, Anthony Corcoran
will say yes again.
Article by
Marie-Lucile Kubacki of FIDES missionary news service of the Pontifical Mission
Societies. Please remember the
Pontifical Mission Societies of the Diocese of Ogdensburg INC. when writing or
changing your will.
