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Massachusetts Conference Edition
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Mother Teresa: What a faithful life can costby Minister and President Jim Antal October/November 2007
An avalanche of “Why’s?” plummet from the pinnacle of faith’s tall peak. One worth examining is this: “Why are so many of us surprised?” I for one have always wanted to believe that it’s possible to lead a faithful life free from the haunt of persistent doubt; a simple life free from envy; a poured-out life free from the regrets of paths not taken. But both my inner experience as well as my friendships with people I deeply admire has taught me that the faithful life is usually a life of struggle. American writer Flannery O’Connor says it well. “I think there is no suffering greater than what is caused by the doubts of those who want to believe.... What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross. It is much harder to believe than not to believe.” Mother Teresa’s private journals remind us of a spiritual reality that many ignore. The deeper we open ourselves to union with God – the more we seek to pattern our life by walking in Jesus’ way – the more we will be challenged. To put it another way: God’s ways are not our ways. Mother Teresa became one of the most revered people in the world by eschewing most of what the world reveres. She had but one goal, one call in life: to become poor. She knew that she could only fulfill that call by irretrievably immersing her life in the lives of those who could lead her to her goal: the poor, the unwanted, the marginalized, the rejected; and not only them, but among them, those whose poverty included only a fleeting grasp on life – the poorest of the poor – those who were dying in the streets. She never claimed that she knew what to do about the poor. She claimed only an overwhelming desire to be poor. Because God’s ways are strange to us, Mother Teresa’s claims often perplexed the world. Her humble pursuit of poverty and service to the poor made her one of the most famous women of the century. Detractors sought to ridicule her, charging her with hypocrisy as she accepted donations from the rich and famous, even as our Lord Jesus dined with tax collectors. But her unflinching claim was that she was trying to amount to nothing. When she died, like Gandhi before her, she owned only seven items: two pair of sandals, two sari’s, a Bible, a rosary and glasses. Her laser-like focus on simplicity and purity often got her into trouble. When she was called by the Pope to visit him, she was told by the Pope’s secretary to change from her sari into a more orthodox habit. Immediately she declared that her sari was good enough for God – whom she met each day dying in the streets – and she walked out on the appointment. Three years later the Pope visited her and presented her with a gift: a Popemobile. After his departure, she sold it and gave the money to the poor. These stories could be joined with hundreds of others to round out the portrait of a disciple whose faithfulness set her apart. Admired by billions – and all the while subject to the interior agony of a lover for her distant, absent beloved. While few of us may be called to follow Mother Teresa, all of us are called to follow Jesus. And in proportion to our desire to know and love and follow him, Jesus provides us with everything we need.
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Many of the world’s religious people have been puzzling for the past month. As the tenth anniversary of the death of Mother Teresa approached, the publication of her private journals jolted many. Countless millions, inspired by her selfless ministry to the poorest of the poor, never imagined that she spent 50 years confronting ferocious interior faith-struggles that persisted right up until her death.