Jesus has a very special love for you. [But] as for me–The silence and the emptiness is so great–that I look and do not see,–Listen and do not hear. –MOTHER TERESA TO THE REV. MICHAEL VAN DER PEET, SEPTEMBER 1979
On Dec. 11, 1979, Mother Teresa, the “Saint of the Gutters,” went to Oslo. Dressed in her signature blue-bordered sari and shod in sandals despite below-zero temperatures, the former Agnes Bojaxhiu received that ultimate worldly accolade, the Nobel Peace Prize. In her acceptance lecture, Teresa, whose Missionaries of Charity had grown from a one-woman folly in Calcutta in 1948 into a global beacon of self-abnegating care, delivered the kind of message the world had come to expect from her. “It is not enough for us to say, ‘I love God, but I do not love my neighbor,'” she said, since in dying on the Cross, God had “[made] himself the hungry one–the naked one–the homeless one.” Jesus’ hunger, she said, is what “you and I must find” and alleviate. She condemned abortion and bemoaned youthful drug addiction in the West. Finally, she suggested that the upcoming Christmas holiday should remind the world “that radiating joy is real” because Christ is everywhere–“Christ in our hearts, Christ in the poor we meet, Christ in the smile we give and in the smile that we receive.”
Yet less than three months earlier, in a letter to a spiritual confidant, the Rev. Michael van der Peet, that is only now being made public, she wrote with weary familiarity of a different Christ, an absent one. “Jesus has a very special love for you,” she assured Van der Peet. “[But] as for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great, that I look and do not see,–Listen and do not hear–the tongue moves [in prayer] but does not speak … I want you to pray for me–that I let Him have [a] free hand.”
The two statements, 11 weeks apart, are extravagantly dissonant. The first is typical of the woman the world thought it knew. The second sounds as though it had wandered in from some 1950s existentialist drama. Together they suggest a startling portrait in self-contradiction–that one of the great human icons of the past 100 years, whose remarkable deeds seemed inextricably connected to her closeness to God and who was routinely observed in silent and seemingly peaceful prayer by her associates as well as the television camera, was living out a very different spiritual reality privately, an arid landscape from which the deity had disappeared.
How tragic that people she trusted did not carry out her express wish that they destroy all of her papers.
Great. So now the media is going to exploit and, at last, disfigure, a woman whose sandals they are not fit to tie, because she had bad days, days in which the world of the spirit was wholly absent and she felt lost. This is such a disgrace! Larry
This is a great testimony to faith in an age in which so much is based upon feelings. This great saint persisted in her faith in spite of the fact that she didn’t feel the presence of Christ.
Thanks, Jeff.
Precisely.
I think most of us have had those periods in our lives when it seemed to us that God was not listening, was not available to us. And I think the key words are “it seemed to us”. Our feelings are simply not reliable; our God is…totally reliable. And yes, her papers should have been destroyed as she wished. Me, I am systematically destroying anything that might prove hurtful to anyone else. Most of it is between God and me, and there it should remain.
I do not think this is necessarilly bad news. The spiritual life is too often portrayed as “Me and Jesus are so happy!” Classical spirituality takes the Dark Night very seriously as a needed part of the journey. And it is something that God does to benefit the person. I also think this shows how serious sin is. If Mother Theresa went through such purification, why do any of us think that we are “good enough” just the way we are. I guess I took alot of solace in knowing my own struggles and dry-ness are not obstacles to being faithful. I took solace in knowing that my “happy meter” is no indication of what God is doing and can do with me and through me. Of course, there will be those who spin this into something negative. But as Jesus said, “if they do not believe the law and the prophets then they will not believe even if someone rises from the dead.” Mother Theresa preached the Gospel so eloquently because she literally shared the cross of Christ. Would that more Christians spend as much time focused on loving, serving and proclaiming Jesus and less time focused on how they ‘feel’ God.
Living the life she did, she would hardly have been human if she had not had crises of faith from time to time.
I don’t remember who said this, but I’ve always found it something to take to heart: “The opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is faithlessness.”
She may have had doubts, but she was never faithless.
I’ve been reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel this week. Even though he mentions it, I doubt that the writer for Time really understands what St. John of the Cross meant by the “dark night,” or its relationship to faith. But I have no doubt that Mother Teresa did.
I’m glad that honesty won out here. As damaging as this news may be to our PR image, it does nothing to the truth. This is something with which each of us must wrestle, and the sooner we are aware of it, the better, in my opinion.
The article was actually very favorable to Christianity, if read to the end. I found it to be fair.
I now have even more respect for Mother Teresa. To have faith in the midst of such doubt shows just how full her faith really was. I suspect mainstream American culture isn’t going to be able to understand how a person can be seen as faithful even during periods of doubt and darkness.
What shocks me deeply about this whole episode is that personal letters sent to a spiritual counsellor are published after the death of the person in question. Surely all such exchanges come under the confidentiality of the internal forum? Not quite the same seal as the confessional, but approaching it in seriousness. Would you ever write to a spiritual director if you knew it might be published? I recall similarly how the priest in whom Jackie Kennedy confided late in life left his personal papers to Georgetown University, which trumpeted the facts about entries regarding her. We should all strive for greater confidentiality. May God give us this grace. Sometimes as a pastor I am party to conversations which would make great sermon material. But imagine sitting listening to this in the congregation and wondering if your confidences will be grist one day to the sermon mill. Even anonymously, it would disconcert. No, no and no.
#8 – Thanks for your good comment. I am glad you are reading [i] The Ascent [/i].
As you say, many say “Dark Night” without reading what John of the Cross had to say. Most folks think it means “having a bad day” or “having a crisis of faith.”
But John portrayed the Dark Night as a much to be desired gift – a time when one is free of all that is not God so that God is all there is.
Some comments on the mystical poem and a link to it are here:
http://northernplainsanglicans.blogspot.com/2007/08/traveling-light-chapter-thirteen.html
It was reported that these letters were made public as part of the process for sainthood. But I don’t understand why they were not kept in the process file until some later time.
The popular press in reporting on this story has shown (no surprise) a lack of understanding of the word “faith,” equating it with “belief” i.e. in a set of doctrines. We all know that faith and doubt are companions on the journey. Many times I have been in the valley of the dry bones, waiting for my bones to rise. I’m glad to know that from time to time I have been her companion on this journey.
The world reads this as a failure of her faith.
I read this as the greatest triumph of the cross in her life.
Isn’t it a blessing that God does not abandon us when we are weak, or doubting or stuggling to make it day to day.
Let’s rejoice that the Cross won. I look forward to reading this book.
I think it’s time to write a book: [i]The Times isn’t Great: How the Media Poisens Everything.[/i]
Actually, this isn’t even news. When the canonization process began, the extent of her “dark night” became known, published in lengthy articles on Zenit. She went through years and years without that religious experience – the “sensible presence of God”, I believe we call it – so beloved of western Christians. She persevered in obedience, and that’s why she’s a saint.
If I may say it, I really appreciate the wisdom in this comment thread. It’s nice to hear good spiritual theology.
Less than a “crisis” of faith, I think she displays the essence of faith, continuing in action when you do not see or hear from God. She is a true hero of faith. Whatever words she has written do not detract from her faith but show all that faith includes. These words cannot be read meaningfully apart from the context of her entire life and work.
All of us should pray for the grace to continue in our calling when all emotional highs and all evidence of God’s love are lost and all we can depend on is His grace.
Mother Theresa’s life is a triumph of Faith. It is an unqualified “Yes!” to God and to spread His word and His love. Her faith did not depend on “spiritual highs” or emotional reaffirmation or a warm feeling from Jesus. Her faith was that God is with her, even with all evidence lacking. She had the assurance of things not seen.
YBIC,
Phil Snyder
“Lord, I Believe, Help Thou My Unbelief”
She may have had doubts but she struggled with them and fought on.
Frederick Beuchner once wrote words to the effect that “…faith is the journey, rather than the destination.” Maybe it applies here.
#10 – I agree. I have more respect and admiration than ever for her after learning this. How easy it would have been to walk away just because the feelings weren’t there. I also have this yearning for more of the feelings after being a Christian for many, many years. The closest I come is in our home group, where we minister to and pray for one another.
I wonder if the modern Westerner will have greater difficulty in understanding this sort of faith than did those in the past. We are so accustomed (in less than a generation!) to total, instant communication and connectiviy that any sense of absence seems final, eternal, and catastrophic. When I think of my ancestors, some 200 years back, who were separated from those they loved by days, weeks, or even months of silence, across continents and oceans,due to the time a message took to travel, I can better understand faith and love in the face of silence than, perhaps, can the text-messaging, Bluetooth-wearing person at the table at Starbuck’s.