of her faith, for no one continues to long for the return of a loved one who no longer exists.
Mother Teresa’s trial of faith is not without precedent in Christian tradition, nor without parallels in Scripture. Recall Jesus’ challenge to the Canaanite woman, who, after begging that he cure her daughter, was seemingly rebuffed in the harshest terms. In both cases, Jesus used what appeared to be rejection in order to draw out the fullness of their faith, precisely by challenging that faith to the maximum. Jesus gave each one the chance to surmount his challenges one by one, and to stand triumphant as a model for the rest of us. His appreciation of the Canaanite woman could have been addressed just as easily, two thousand years later, to Mother Teresa: “O woman, great is your faith!” (Mt 15:28).
Sharing the Darkness of the Poor
As difficult and painful as her dark night became, Mother Teresa never allowed herself to become “lost” in her darkness. She never rebelled against it, nor against the God who laid it on her shoulders, nor against the poor of Calcutta with whom and for whom she bore it. On the contrary, she gradually came to understand its deeper meaning, and even to willingly embrace it for the sake of her God — who had borne that same agony for her sake, in Gethsemane.
Even while tending to the physical and material needs of the poor, feeding the hungry and clothing the naked, Mother Teresa’s primary focus was their “salvation and sanctification,”21 their inner advancement toward divine union, as their highest dignity and long-term vocation. She was not sent simply to work for material betterment, a point even her admirers often miss. Calcutta’s poorest, living and dying on the streets, enjoyed neither sufficient material goods nor the goodness of their fellow man. Since they were left with nothing and no one to mirror to them the face of God, Mother Teresa was sent to show them in his name, in concrete works of love, how beloved of God they were. For love’s sake, she herself would bear a portion of their interior pain. She would give of herself, in this life and the next, to “light the light of those in darkness on earth.”22 The more the truth of her victorious faith is known, the more she will be an inspiration to those who are learning to find their peace, to make their contribution, and to cling to their God, as she did, in the night.
Lessons in the Night
For all who “have eyes to see,” there is a great light hidden here. Beyond the obvious light of Mother Teresa’s charity, there in the heart of her night lies a deeper light still.
But how can light be born of darkness? This question is critical, for it is key to the process and the history of divine transformation. First, there is the creation story, in which the Almighty transformed the dark void into substance and light. There is the second creation story, where Adam and Eve are cast from a luminous Eden into a world of darkness and temptation. The Redeemer, light of the world, is heralded by a night star at his birth. The Nicene Creed sings of him as “light from light, true God from true God.” Finally, in the Resurrection, the darkness of death is conquered by his brilliance emerging from the tomb.
Darkness need not be the opposite, the enemy of light. When seeded with God’s grace, darkness becomes its catalyst. Night becomes the womb to the day. It is the power of love, of God’s own nature as love, that works this alchemy. When embraced for others, when transformed by love, darkness indeed becomes light.
Paradoxically, by embracing her darkness for the sake of the poor, Mother Teresa fulfilled her call — in her welcomed darkness she became God’s light. Her sacrifice shone with a light that transcends our logic. As St. Paul comments on the archetypal mystery of divine light clothed in human darkness, shining forth from Jesus’ passion and death,
For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. (1 Cor 1:22-24)
This crucified light, so utterly “other” that it seems to us darkness and scandal, is the refulgence of God’s self-emptying love (Phil 2:6-8). Divine love wraps itself in our pain and darkness, as Mother Teresa would say, “without counting the cost.” God’s very nature as love plunges him headlong into our neediness and, unbelievably, even into our sin. In St. Paul’s bold words: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin (2 Cor 5:21).
Mother Teresa would follow Jesus’ lead. She, who from childhood knew no darkness, would accept to “become darkness” for the sake of the poor. She gathered into her soul and flooded with love the very blackness that denied God’s existence, drowning the darkness in light.
The importance of Mother Teresa’s example, even for those who bear much milder Calcuttas, is in showing how far faith and love can reach in this life — even in the night, even buffeted by pain, with every wind against it. Her victory in the night is proof that the exercise of faith and love is ultimately our free choice, never beholden to circumstance, a decision accessible at all times. God makes it always possible to move beyond preoccupation with our own pain, and to reach out to assuage the pain of others. Rather than isolating us, we can choose to make of life’s burdens a sacred bridge into the pain of others.
Light on Our Horizon
There is more to Mother Teresa’s wisdom than the otherworldly, however. As global events unfold, we can already see a growing timeliness and relevance to her teaching, one that even her followers would not have foreseen — but that surely did not escape the foresight of the God who sent her.
Increasingly, the importance of Mother Teresa’s message will come from having modeled an effective, even elegant, way to live, to work, and to overcome in the face of the most daunting and overwhelming odds. Mother Teresa not only survived, but she also managed to become a saint and Nobel laureate amidst the material and spiritual challenges of civil-war Calcutta (sundered, bloodied, and impoverished by clashes between Hindus and Muslims). This chaos was the backdrop for her experiments in faith and love, a confluence of adversities that surely surpassed our own, yet giving rise to a resilient faith that can still inspire our own.
While the challenges of her life may seem to have little to do with us, in coming years this may no longer be the case. The specter of severe change looms over us on many fronts — the environment, hunger, global debt, climate change, diminishing oil reserves, and health challenges and pandemics that may stretch our ability to cope.
If in the future even some of the deprivations that Mother Teresa faced in Calcutta become ours, might the life of this woman, who navigated the problems of Calcutta with such grace, hold lessons for us all — for our spiritual and emotional viability, whatever may come? Might she yet be a mentor to future generations, teaching us that circumstances need not dictate the tenor and purpose of our life, but instead, by remaining God-anchored and proactive, that we can turn even the worst circumstances to advantage?
But even if none of the gloom gathering on our horizon comes to pass, we will still need grace and courage to face the fact that our present tenor of life cannot continue indefinitely. In years to come, we all will know unforeseen suffering; we all will taste deprivation, in health if not in finance. Whatever our present circumstances, a share of personal tragedy will one day touch us all. The normal course of life will bring, along with blessings, disease to our children, accidents to loved ones, responsibility for bed-ridden relatives or a cancer-ridden spouse, loss of employment or loss of relationship, sudden reversals of fortune, or the untimely death of those we cherish. We will all need to find other sources of happiness, purpose, and fulfillment, beyond possessions and ease and protecting the status quo. In the end, the very process of our aging will itself frame the geography of our personal Calcutta.
Who will teach us to deal with
