Saturday, August 25, 2007

My dear God,

I picked up the Time Magazine and started leafing through the pages. I was interested, very interested in reading the article entitled, "The Secret Life of Mother Teresa." While offering Jesus to others, her interior soul cried out for him. The dark loneliness of her own soul betrayed a 50 year crisis of faith.

The Jesus she had loved passionately before beginning her work with the Missionaries of Charity had left her and darkness plagued her soul. For sixty six years she wrote to her superiors and confessors, sharing her dark plunge and loss. Yet, devoutly she continued her work, driven to reach the poorest of the poor. Thousands of nuns joined her, scattering in the streets to retrieve the dying, the youngest to the oldest, giving dignity to death.

I felt sadness as I read on, my finger tracing this great icon of the last century. I placed the magazine beside me as I prepared my sermon, frequently returning to the pictures, her own words of sorrow. Darkness filled her soul. But she did not abandon Jesus, the one she named, The Absent One.

A new book has been published with her letters of spiritual drought. She died, the plague never having lifted. Did she find relief at the last moment? Did Jesus himself come to retrieve her? Did she experience the union she could only imagine as a child? Did this great woman's faith come to life in her final moment? I want this book. I want to sit with it, to listen to her words, her soul speaking.

I can only pray that her anguish will lead me to Jesus rather than to Mother Mary Teresa herself. Why? Because she wanted her letters destroyed. She was afraid people would be more focused on her and less on Jesus. "I want the work to remain only His." She said.

Doubt remains as part of the pilgrim walk. In doubt we seek truth. And the truth sets us free. At least some of us.

This tiny woman's revelation
gnaws at me,
dear God.
My heart aches
for her loss
of your presence.
For I enjoy daily
the heavenly presence
of God.
Why would I
be so blessed
with presence
while this great missionary
experienced so profound
a pain?
I can never achieve
her greatness,
never reach so many,
never offer Christ
to the masses.
She received his darkness
and I received his light.
Kneeling in prayer,
reading her bible,
head bowed,
my finger continues
to trace her form.
Sadness laced with joy.

Love, Andrea