Mother Teresa's Darkness

Sermon preached by the Rev. Lowell E. Grisham, Rector
St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Fayetteville, Arkansas
September 9, 2007; 15th Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 18, Year C
Episcopal Revised Common Lectionary

(Luke 14:25-33) -- Now large crowds were traveling with Jesus; and he turned and said to them, "Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, intending to build a tower, does not first sit down and estimate the cost, to see whether he has enough to complete it? Otherwise, when he has laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it will begin to ridicule him, saying, `This fellow began to build and was not able to finish.' Or what king, going out to wage war against another king, will not sit down first and consider whether he is able with ten thousand to oppose the one who comes against him with twenty thousand? If he cannot, then, while the other is still far away, he sends a delegation and asks for the terms of peace. So therefore, none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all your possessions."
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Life is much richer and deeper than your experience and mine on a bad day; and it is much darker and more menacing than happiness. I imagine that the people who are most alive are the ones who can bring these two together and live in the complex truth, in an honesty that allows both the bad day and the good one to speak and be heard. (J. Neville Ward, Enquiring Within, p. 58)

Maybe you've seen some of the reports about this week's publication of the letters that the late Mother Teresa wrote to her confessors. Her writings show that for nearly fifty years she felt no presence of God whatsoever. Except for a brief, five-week period of spiritual refreshment in 1959, she lived in an enduring state of deep and abiding spiritual pain. Listen to her words:

Lord, my God, who am I that You should forsake me? The Child of your Love – and now become as the most hated one... unloved. I call, I cling, I want – and there is no One to answer – no One on Whom I can cling – no, No One. – Alone... Where is my Faith – even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness – My God – how painful is this unknown pain – I have no Faith – I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd my heart – & make me suffer untold agony.

So many unanswered questions live within me afraid to uncover them – because of the blasphemy – If there be God – please forgive me – When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven – there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. – I am told God loves me – and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Did I make a mistake in surrendering blindly to the Call of the Sacred Heart? (Time, 9/3/07, Her Agony, quoting from Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light. Much of this sermon is drawn from this Time's report.)

Hold those words in your mind as you recall her infectious smile, the boundless energy, the ageless compassion that was the light of her being; a light so compelling that it was arresting even through a television screen. Hold those words in mind as you hear these other words of hers:

I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world... Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier... Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing... Good works are links that form a chain of love... Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand... Many people mistake our work for our vocation. Our vocation is the love of Jesus.

In 1947 Teresa had an ecstatic experience of communion and vocation. Jesus spoke to her, calling her to leave her teaching and to live with and serve "the poorest of the poor." The editor of the new book describes her mission "to help them live their lives with dignity [and so] encounter God's infinite love, and having come to know [God], to love and serve [God] in return." Of her vision, Teresa later wrote simply, "Jesus gave Himself to me."

Soon after she entered this work on the streets of Calcutta, Jesus took himself away from her. Her only spiritual respite happened in 1958 when Pope Pius XII died. Teresa prayed to the late Pope for a "proof that God is pleased with the Society [of the Missionaries of Charity]." For five weeks the darkness lifted, then she entered "in the tunnel" once again, and the absence never abated.

Early in her life, Agnes Bojaxhiu chose to give herself completely to Christ, entering a religious vocation and taking the name Teresa. She was drawn most particularly to Christ's Passion. "I want to... drink ONLY from His chalice of pain," she said. So she embraced the pain of the poorest of the poor as Christ's own, and served them as though each person were Christ himself. We knew all about that during her life.

What we didn't know is that she also embraced Jesus' experience of abandonment on the cross, when he cried out in agony, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" Teresa abandoned not only family and possessions, but even spiritual refreshment in her commitment to give herself entirely to God. She lived her public life loving, smiling and healing, bringing light to others' darkness. She lived her interior life abandoned, loving, seeking, doubting in the darkness.

I remember years ago I was struggling, trying to commit to the discipline of daily prayer. Too often I could find something else to do, something to distract me, and the time of prayer would pass. "I'll do it tomorrow." Jimmy Carter was then the President of the United States. I read in a news story about his work and his faith that he made time each day for his prayer and Bible study. With the responsibilities that he shouldered, sometimes that opportunity didn't come until the wee hours of the morning. But he prayed and read scripture every day, even if it was after midnight before he had the opportunity. Something in me broke. If Jimmy Carter could find time in his day, certainly I could do so as well.

Now as I learn of the spiritual struggle of Mother Teresa, I can put some of my own doubts and dryness in a new perspective. If Mother Teresa could live in profound spiritual darkness yet minister with inspiring grace and love, certainly I can live with my own modest spiritual dryness and doubts, and be willing to do what needs to be done for the sake of Christ.

We all experience the storms of our emotions – feeling frustrated or lost or tired or abandoned. Yet we are more than our feelings, and we can live beyond emotion's tyranny. Teresa once wrote, "I accept not in my feelings – but with my will, the Will of God – I accept His will."

And we all experience doubts and intellectual uncertainties. Is there really a God? Does any of this matter anyway? When the outspoken agnostic Malcolm Muggeridge visited Teresa she addressed his doubts straight on, writing, "Your longing for God is so deep and yet He keeps Himself away from you. He must be forcing Himself to do so – because he loves you so much – the personal love Christ has for you is infinite – The Small difficulty you have re His Church is finite – Overcome the finite with the infinite." Muggeridge became an outspoken Christian apologist.

All but a few of us have felt abandoned by God. All but a few of us have had doubts about God's existence. It is not unlikely that most of the people worshiping here today may be experiencing themselves, to some degree or another, emotionally abandoned and intellectually doubtful.

Mother Teresa is our patron saint – for all of us who experience the darkness of mind or emotion. True love requires commitment, fidelity and vulnerability. Though she did not feel Christ's love and did not know the existence of God, Teresa rose every morning at 4:30 to say, "Your happiness is all I want." If she could do so much with so little spiritual consolation, what might we do with just a little more willingness and humility.
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The Mission of St. Paul's Episcopal Church is to explore and celebrate
God's infinite grace, acceptance and love.

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