What Constitutes Sainthood?

by Carole Anne Scott

Ten years after her death, Blessed Mother Teresa of Calcutta, again is pictured on the cover of "Time Magazine." Her reappearance in that spot is for reasons that probably would have displeased her. Against what clearly were her wishes, a series of letters which she wrote to her confessors and which she requested be destroyed, has stirred up a controversy of unparalleled proportions. In these letters, which are about to be published in a book entitled "Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light," she describes her terrible struggles with her own dark night of the soul, a bleak period, unbroken except for a five-week respite and quite probably lasting for almost fifty years until her death. During this time, she experienced unparalleled sufferings resulting from her inability to feel touched by the love of God or be certain of God's presence in her life. Her struggles were so great that at times, she even doubted the very existence of God.

As virtually everyone will acknowledge, Mother Teresa was an astonishing person who constantly denied her own needs, subjecting herself in humble service to the poorest of the poor and strongly defending the rights of those to whom society often unjustly accords no rights. Owning only two saris and two pairs of sandals, Mother's selflessness is legendary. With her humility in the face of the world's accolades, which even included the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize, she presented us with an astonishing portrait of one who heard God's call and answered it.

That call originally came in the form of God's voice directly speaking to her in 1946, asking her to give up her teaching duties and instead work with the poorest of the poor. "Come carry me into the holes of the poor. Come be my light," God told her. After a struggle, she managed to convince the skeptical archbishop in Calcutta that her mission was divinely inspired and received permission to begin her work with the poor. She launched herself wholeheartedly into these efforts and once she did, the voice of God disappeared from her life. Feeling forsaken by the Jesus she so loved and served, in her letters, Mother revealed the torture afflicting her. The depth of her suffering, her doubts, and her confusion are something that no one except her confidants could ever have imagined.

Chatting over dinner about this with our friend Andrea, an ardent radio talk-show caller and listener, I mentioned that I was going to be writing this editorial on this subject. "Oh, I heard all about that during one of the shows," Andrea informed me, adding, "People were calling up screaming that Mother Teresa shouldn't be made a saint because of her writings. With all that she did, I can't see why they feel that way and I was going to call to say that, but then I figured, I'm Jewish, so what do I know about Catholic saints?"

It seems that quite a few Catholics know far less than Andrea about Catholic saints. By definition, a saint is a human being, one "practicing heroic virtue" and living "in fidelity to God's grace" ("Catechism of the Catholic Church"), but nonetheless, one who is infinitely human, and thus, subject to temptations, doubts, errors, and in some cases, even a sinfulness that needs to be overcome.

"I don't understand why there is all this fuss about Mother Teresa," my sister shared with me, adding, "I like Mother Teresa better with her doubts. They show that she was human." Perhaps this very humanity is what will become one of the greatest gifts that Mother Teresa's saintly life gives us. Her doubts and her confusion go a long way toward making us feel better about our own lapses. We who question and wonder can add her to the other "Doubting Thomases" who make us feel that we are in good company with our questions.

A long time ago, I read of a woman dying of cancer whom Mother Teresa was helping. The poor woman complained about her horrible pain to Mother who responded that "Suffering is the kiss of Jesus." To that, the woman replied, "Please tell Jesus to stop kissing me so much." At the time, I never knew that Mother Teresa herself was being so constantly kissed.

Why didn't God reach down to console Mother Teresa? We don't know the answer to that question. The Bibles tells us: '"My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,'says the Lord, 'And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine. For just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so my ways are higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.'" (Isaiah 55:8-9)

Certainly earthly suffering seems to be especially prevalent among those who eventually attain an exalted rank among the heavenly host. My dear friend Sr. Rita Morrissey, CSJ is currently ill and in pain. In July she wrote to me, telling me how difficult it is for her to be sick and expressing her wish that she would recover quickly, but wisely adding, "If not, I shall try to 'offer it up'as we learned as children."

I think that Mother Teresa must have found a way to offer up her suffering. Her mental anguish never caused her to miss a beat in serving the poor and in carrying out the mission that Jesus had entrusted to her. In my opinion, her doubts make her even more worthy of becoming a saint because she soldiered on in spite of them and continued to believe even when in pain. Her example inspires all who question, all who wonder, and all who wait for the answers promised in the life to come, all of us, included!