Deliver Us from Evil

The Church was jam-packed: people standing in the aisles, along the back wall, even in the choir loft. Last week’s funeral mass for Fr. John Corcoran, pastor of St. John the Evangelist Parish in East Bridgewater, Massachusetts, was an SRO event.

After 26 years as pastor, “Fr. Jack” had retired at the age of 75 on December 31, 2003—only to come out of retirement almost immediately, to act as convener for the area’s three-parish cluster as it struggled over the challenge of closing parishes in the archdiocese of Boston. By March 4 the cluster had achieved its cluster recommendations, which were submitted to the diocese on March 8. The next day, he underwent cancer surgery. The operation was successful, but complications ensued, and Fr. Jack died on March 22.

Even amid shock and mourning, those who loved Jack Corcoran knew his priestly life was a kind of prism splitting out the distinct historical hues of the priesthood over the last 50 years. From post World-War II to post-Vatican II to the new millennium, Jack served through it all.

My parents’ home still displays a photo of “Fr. John” standing beside me at my first communion in the mid-1950s, when he was a young priest serving the pre-Vatican II Church (though none of us knew a Council was coming) in a “golden era” when seminaries were full and the parish priest was the chief authority figure for millions of Catholics.

In those days, Fr. John was the kind of celebrant whose sonorous Latin diction projected to the back of the church even with his own back to the people. And his preaching, often done down from the pulpit and out roaming the main aisle, was the stuff to inspire most grown-ups while scaring not a few kids.

Within ten years, of course, Jack Corcoran faced the same tough transition as thousands of fellow priests: turning to face the people, switching to English, introducing and explaining “the Changes” from Vatican II. In those years, as he served as a high-school chaplain and then as assistant in a large suburban parish, he warmed to the task of leading his people through the difficult but important challenge of renewing themselves and the church.

By the time he presided at my wedding in 1973, Jack had thoroughly re-shaped his ministry in the spirit of the age. When Anne and I presented him with our plans for a wedding liturgy that included, among its many innovations, proposing that he leave the sanctuary to stand at the head of the congregation as we exchanged our vows, he made only one half-joking request: “I’d really appreciate it if you let me plan my own homily!”

During the next few years his own spiritual journey led him to active involvement in the charismatic renewal movement and to Cursillo, as well as to a graduate degree and a side-vocation in counseling. When he finally became pastor, he often welcomed troubled priests who needed the kind of support few ordinary pastors could provide.

But he also found himself nurturing and grooming his own parishioners for greater responsibilities. By the mid 1980s he informed the diocese he preferred no more assistant priests, and by the early 1990s (when I joined the staff’s journey as consultant) he had formed his leadership around a staff made up entirely of parishioners.

Unlike the old “drill-team”-style staff (all priests, all seminary trained, all marching in step with the pastor in interchangeable roles), Jack had built his leadership team like a ball club: different players trained with different skills, all playing complementary but specialized roles. It was a team that modeled a new era in clergy-lay collaboration.

Outside observers were amazed at the results: in a diocese where one or two outside professionals typically coordinated parish efforts in areas like religious education and music, Jack’s staff grew to six home-grown leaders serving the whole range of parish ministries—plus three deacons raised up from the parish ranks. All this in a smaller-than-average parish in a small Yankee town. When Jack suffered through two long leaves over the next ten years (one due to health and another due to a spurious court case against him), this leadership team stepped up to the plate and “pinch hit” for the pastor. Their success keeping St. John’s a thriving operation for months in his absence was a remarkable tribute to his empowering leadership.

When I first proposed that the staff consider establishing a practice of annual performance evaluations, Jack volunteered to go first. I will never forget that morning in the rectory dining room when five lay people offered a thorough (and thoroughly professional) evaluation of their own pastor! Our church, I thought, had certainly come a long way—and so had Jack!

It almost seemed as if, the older Jack got, the younger his spirit grew. From his powerful but rigid youth in the 1950s Jack aged like good wine, becoming mellower, richer, more complex, and finally growing into the kind of priest the whole church could savor.

The last few years, of course, took their toll on him. The clergy sex abuse scandal traumatized him on many levels, and the imminent “downsizing” of the Archdiocese of Boston was not a legacy he welcomed.

But his funeral reflected his 50 years of achievement. The packed church itself, long since renovated in Jack’s image of post-Conciliar worship, reflected his ultimate commitment to the work of the Spirit at Vatican II. And his team knew how to work that space, offering a celebration of Jack’s life as dignified and heartfelt as the man himself. Staff members accompanied family and led the music. Parish Councilors helped with greeting and extra seating. The deacons Jack raised up preached and offered readings and led prayer and invited the mourners to join the procession out into the early spring sun and around the church to the small field where Jack Corcoran had chosen the most fitting spot for his retirement.

My own prayer on leaving was one of thanksgiving—for a priestly life that showed, to all who cared to see, what it really means to be renewed. In 50 years of priesthood, Jack had allowed himself to be transformed again and again by the Spirit's newest challenge. I am tempted to think, in these troubled Catholic times, that what the Church really needs is not more priests. What it really needs are more priests like “Fr. Jack.”

Send Your Comments and Questions to bfswain@juno.com

Dr. Swain’s opinions do not represent the views of this parish or any other official body.

Bernie Swain has devoted more than 30 years to adult spiritual formation in dioceses in the US, Canada, and France. Since 1991 he has maintained a private practice as trainer, teacher, and consultant to leaders in parishes and other religious organizations. He holds degrees in theology and political science from Holy Cross, Harvard, The University of Paris, and the University of Chicago. His writings include Liberating Leadership (Harper & Row, 1986) and more than 200 articles in periodicals such as The National Catholic Reporter, Commonweal, The Miami Herald, The Catholic Free Press, The Pilot, Harvard Theological Review, and Liturgy. A lifelong layperson, he lives in Boston with his wife and three children

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