I met Mother Teresa briefly in 1971, enough for me to want to discover more. Five years later, as a newly ordained Jesuit priest, I went to India to work with her in Calcutta as part of my Jesuit formation – a deep encounter that marked my life and priesthood. More than an inspiration, she proved to be a revelation.
I am not so enthusiastic about her canonisation. Don’t get me wrong. I see great value in it. Neither am I one of her critics. I’ve learnt that if beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so is darkness. She taught me not to be afraid of the weaknesses critics seem so scandalised by.
Mother TeresaMother Teresa was holy not because she was perfect. I have seen her in her radiance and in her weakness. Yes, she was ‘old fashioned’ in her mindset. She often reprimanded me, with a smile, for not wearing the Roman collar as a priest. She was very demanding on herself and her sisters, verging on what sometimes seemed close to fundamentalism. She seemed imprudent and irresponsible in risks she took to serve the poor and downtrodden. But she showed that great tenderness and beauty lie hidden in smallness and weakness.
Her detractors mention the large sums of money she and her congregation (mis)handle. But no one mentions her refusal to invest any money. She told me: “Father, I want to remain as free as a bird, depending only on God’s loving Providence.” That meant: free to accept and refuse money, free to be poor herself and free even to give ‘imprudently’ to the poor. She shunned bank accounts and even investments. This was one of the sticking points between her and her International Co-Workers Movement. Her accountability was strict – but to God alone!
We exalt saints not to live off their holiness but to roll up our sleeves and, like them, dirty our hands in the muck of everyday life
Some criticise her unprofessional care of the sick. I worked with her in Khaligat, her Home for the Dying. When I timidly suggested that she employ a doctor, she replied that her call was to offer a loving home where people can die in dignity, not to build hospitals. She knew that institutions have a habit of taking a life of their own and how good institutions often end up in the hands of and at the service of the rich.
She was a practical woman but never a utilitarian one. When she and her Sisters found themselves overwhelmed by the demands of their work she introduced what she called ‘the greatest grace’ her congregation received: a daily extra hour of adoration. Learning to stop, pray and cultivate the inner vision is the secret of maintaining the ability to contemplate God’s presence in every suffering man, woman or child. Without the God vision, our humanitarian work remains just that: a human venture.
She insisted that her Sisters are not simply social workers but ‘contemplatives, right in the heart of the world’; not that there is anything wrong about social work, but because without the inner eye of loving compassion, our efforts to help others remain a shortsighted, utilitarian effort to fix people’s problems. The reality is much deeper and more beautiful. Only meaning restores humanity in people and only a loving self-giving is capable of creating this meaning. Charity is love in action, not remedial activism.
This is true holiness. It’s not getting it right, but doing it with love. It’s not offering a solution, but offering oneself unconditionally in an act of love. It’s not being perfect, but being faithful. It’s not being a notch above anyone else, it is being one with the poorest of the poor and weakest of the weak. As she put it: “Holiness is a simple duty for you and me.”
We lift and exalt saints on altars (and human pedestals) not to live off their holiness but to roll up our sleeves and, like them, get down to dirty our hands in the muck of everyday life – putting love where there is none.
We never see statues or paintings of Mother Teresa washing stinking toilets in the home of the dying. But I’ve seen her doing it, teaching me how true humanity and holiness reveal the same beauty of God within us.
pchetcuti@gmail.com
Fr Paul Chetcuti is a member of the Society of Jesus.