The Spiritual Desolation Of Mother Teresa

The Gospels of Mark and Matthew convey a disturbingly candid portrait of Jesus' spiritual torments during his last hours on earth. According to their accounts, he was terrifyingly alone in the Garden of Gethsemene while oblivious disciples slept. And he was despairingly alone on the cross while uncomprehending antagonists mocked. In Luke's Gospel and John's, it is as if this portrait had proved too much for many in the early church to bear. Luke mitigates Jesus' suffering in the garden by giving him an angel for comfort and strength; John removes the element of agony altogether from the scene; and both Gospels present a triumphant Jesus on the cross. The net result of these greatly varied images is the knowledge that the Savior of the World did indeed experience abandonment by God, as so many of his followers would through the centuries, but that he had to endure the experience for only a few hours.

Now we are learning that one of Jesus' very purest followers in our own time experienced what he did in his, but not for just a few hours. By her own words, she experienced Jesus' cut-offness from God across the whole of her life of service to him. I think Mother Teresa deserved better. And if her church were not so heaven-bent on getting her elevated to sainthood --- a worthy striving, to be sure; if this beautiful woman doesn't deserve sainthood, who does? --- we might be hearing less about the commonality of her spiritual travail among saints in general. Cheeriness about Teresa's normalcy as a doubter seems to me a little disrespectful of the uniqueness, to her, of her heart-rending struggle. So my question in all this is not about whether her doubts will derail her canonization. It is about what to think of a God whose son promised that all we have to do is ask, but who Himself seemed so intentional about denying the one thing this loyal servant so poignantly said she needed from Him.

Yes, it may be that Mother Teresa herself contributed to at least part of her own sense of abandonment, through giving less credence than she might have given to the two deeply mystical encounters with Christ that apparently she did have. Early in her life, Teresa wrote, she heard Christ speak the words "Come be my light" directly to her, and her mission to India was born. Ten years later, she entered a glorious period of re-experiencing God's (Christ's?) presence in her life, and then --- nothing. But why --- and here I am trying to ask this out of as much pastoral sensitivity as I am capable of --- were these very powerful, very real encounters not enough for her? Might she have compounded her own distress by choosing simply to keep on asking for too much? Many truly faithful people I know have found it possible to remain faithful to God and Christ without experiencing anything remotely close to even one personal encounter with either.

And yes, signs of a very deep trust in God were all around Mother Teresa, just as I believe they are around these Christian friends of mine. That Teresa could yearn for validating encounters with Christ across the whole of her life and ministry, and yet not abandon her commitments when they were not forthcoming, clearly shows her to be a woman of faith, whatever may have been the terms with which she chose to describe herself to her superiors and confessors. Just as Jesus, in Luke's phrasing, set his face resolutely toward Jerusalem to die, Teresa set hers obediently toward Calcutta to help others live, and it is for their respective acts that both will remain especially honored by God through all eternity. Sometimes, it would seem, St. Paul to the contrary notwithstanding, people do get saved by their works as completely as they do by their faith.

But still, the picture I have for years held in my mind of that sweet, tough little woman, lighting up life with her smiles while protecting all of us from having to face the despair that lay behind them, has haunted me and will continue to haunt me for the rest of my days. The absence of the experience of God is surely one of the most profound deprivations with which any human being should ever have to deal in this life. Except, perhaps, the experience of the absence of Him. Better to have loved God and lost Him than never to have loved Him at all? My mind says yes, but my heart is not so sure.