The Missionary of Wall Street

What am I, a senior executive with one of the country's largest money managers, doing hailing down strangers at night on the streets of New York City? "Are you Catholic?" my friends and I ask. "Would you like a rosary? Would you like to go to confession here tonight?" "Are you kidding?" responds one man. "Been there, done that!" says another. "God, no!" chimes in a fast-walking atheist. "You Catholics are all pedophiles!" yells one angry woman. Another hands us a bag of dog poop. Sixty-year-old Michael even has advice: "Why don't you evangelise out in the Middle East, where they need you?" "We're needed here," we respond. "This city needs Jesus, too. It needs His love." Some nights the tide turns in the Lord's favour. A young woman approaches us, decked out in showy attire. "Are you guys really Catholic? I didn't think there were any Catholics left! Can I have a purple rosary?" "Sure! Where are you going? We have lots to talk about." "I've got to run! I m a stripper. But I'm going to pray with this rosary." At times, the neighbourhood even begins rooting for us. Strangers call out: "Way to go!" "Your courage is inspiring!"

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