How Do We React to Mother Teresa’s Doubts? by Friar Jim Van Vurst, O.

 

Catechism Quiz —
How Do We React to
Mother Teresa’s Doubts?

by Friar Jim Van Vurst, O.F.M.

I met Mother Teresa of Calcutta in 1981 during the dedication of a peace garden located at my seminary in Cincinnati, Ohio. She was in the U.S. visiting primarily to establish her community in New York City. It was a beautiful June Sunday afternoon, and I found myself standing right next to this amazing little woman. I say “little” since I’m 6'2" and Mother’s head seemed to barely reach my elbows.

Many of you saw on the Internet and television the reaction to the “revelations” of Mother’s book (Come, Be My Light) of correspondence with her spiritual directors. She described in deeply moving words her struggles with faith, her doubts and sense of abandonment by God. on the surface, her words appear shocking, but in reality she was experiencing what Catholic spirituality describes as the “dark night.” There is no question that to suffer this for a 40-year period must have been a terrible trial. What it says is that this saintly nun, so dedicated to others, also bore a gigantic cross that only increased her holiness and union with God.

What was unfortunate, though understandable, was how people, who didn’t know the theology or language of the spiritual life, reacted, referring to Mother Teresa as a “fake and a pretender” and, worse, a “liar.”

One thing we know for sure is that Mother Teresa was never a fake or a liar. Her whole life was as honest and true as it could be. Her entire being was to do the will of God and, in fact, that it is exactly what she did so wonderfully. If you look at her influence, her wonderful religious community and the tens of thousands of people she and her sisters have helped, we see that her life was an amazing journey with God and ministry to the poorest of the poor.

But what about the darkness, the doubts and the dryness of her life where God seemed to be gone? We ordinarily equate the presence of God with deep feelings of certainty, almost as if you can reach out and touch him. But all those feelings and experiences are not God himself. They are our understanding and images of God. As a person seeks to draw closer to God, God begins to remove all those things that we think are God but are only representations. And one by one, the closeness of God may seem to fade or disappear.

In the language of the spiritual life, Mother Teresa was experiencing the dark night of the senses and of the spirit, which has been written about in Catholic spirituality. The dark night is certainly not punishment given by God. Quite the opposite. It is a sign of spiritual growth and reflects the paradox of the gospel: To die is to live, to live is to die, less is more and more is less. The great expositors of these spiritual principles were St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa of Avila. (For those of you who would like to read about these spiritual principles, check this Web site: danschrock.org/Contemplation.aspx.)

Mother Teresa was not fake, nor did she lose her faith. In fact, her faith grew all the time while she was walking with the Lord, growing deeper in her union with him. However, her experience was of just the opposite. Real faith is believing in what we cannot see or feel. Faith is the strongest when there are no feelings and reassurances. All saints speak of similar experiences, whether they were religious or laity.

From St. Francis of Assisi to St. Thérèse of Lisieux, saints and all those seeking union with God have experienced darkness and struggles, some more than others. But perhaps the most important example is what Jesus experienced during his own passion and death, hanging on the cross. In his human nature, he experienced an abandonment of God:  “Why have you forsaken me?” But would anyone doubt that his faith at the moment of deepest sacrifice was the greatest ever?

One final point: Some people may feel upset that Mother Teresa’s letters were published and not destroyed as she had wanted. If every saint who died got their wish that their correspondence be destroyed, the Christian world would be without some of the most instructive and inspiring writings we could have. (Saints don’t always know what should be and should not be published.) Her experiences will enlighten a lot of people. (I just ordered her book, Come, Be My Light.)

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Friar Jack’s Inbox

Readers respond to Friar Jack’s musings on “Reflections on the Stigmata (Part II).”

Dear Friar Jack: Thank you for your reflections on the stigmata. I have been drawn to both St. Francis and St. Padre Pio for a number of years and always read whatever I can about them. Carol

Dear Friar Jack: How fitting that God should mark outwardly those who carry him so devoutly inwardly! Even as a little kid, I was so impressed with the wounds that marked Francis. It was as if the love he had in his heart forced ｅxpression outwardly. It was so ardent. Pray for us, Francis. Be our companion on the way. May we love even a little more each day! Don

Dear Friar Jack: I’m new to the faith, having just completed RCIA and Baptism last Easter. Thank you for the service of your e-mails. I receive them at work and they give me a reason to pause, if only for a few moments, and think of him in an otherwise busy day. I do have one question: How many saints have displayed the stigmata? Bobby

Dear Bobby: In his book Making Saints, Kenneth Woodward reports that one list identifies 325 full or partial stigmatics since the 13th century. only 62 of them have been canonized. St. Francis of Assisi (1182-1226) is widely considered to be the Church’s first stigmatic. Let me take this opportunity to assure you, and all readers of my E-spirations, that I appreciate your interest and I ask God to touch your lives with peace and healing love. Friar Jack