"Come Be My Light," religious musings, and a funny

I finished Mother Teresa~~Come Be My Light last week, a book I have wanted to read for at least a year now. I always find her story to minister to me in a deep way. To read these private writings of hers (she is now known as Blessed Teresa of Calcutta) didn't shock me as much as it might have to those who were unprepared for its content.

Predominately, this book addresses her interior darkness~~the way her relationship with God changed after she accepted Christ's call to serve Him in the "distressing disguise of the poor." Blessed Teresa's letters describe the transition from her joyful and radiant communion with the Lord to her experience of total spiritual nothingness to an acceptance and even appreciation for her communion with Christ's sufferings. The book, frankly, lasts about twice as long as it needs to but one gets the sense of the depth and lengthiness of this interior movement due to its cumbersome and repetitive treatment of the material.

One thing that has always stuck with me since this book came out was a letter written to an editor of a magazine which reviewed this book positively yet with the expected tinge of surprise. The letter writer, though not having read the book, gently suggested that the reason for Blessed Teresa's darkness was because she embraced a theology which convinced her she needed to work her way to heaven and left her consequently unaware of God's saving grace.

This letter writer troubled me with her implication that "spirituality" equates to "warm, joyful, fuzzy." Are we really experiencing the "correct" relationship with God if we are in darkness and despair?, her statement implies. But I ask, is He not available to us in these times? Can anyone read these private writings and not feel that we are reading about someone so close to Christ's sufferings that she was able to tangibly experience His suffering on the cross? What of the many times Christ promises suffering for those who carry His cross with Him?

Reading Blessed Teresa's letters reveals a woman completely and passionately in love with Jesus Christ. It is tragic how we can feel so certain about someone's inner motivations and experiences purely because of our self-perceived understanding of their religious denomination. There is not a lot of "warm and fuzzy" in her story. There is passion for Christ's passion. There is suffering, just as He suffered. There is serious commitment to Christ's call. To ponder whether Blessed Teresa "really knew Jesus" blew my mind when I read that letter, and now that I've read this book, I feel even more regretful for all the times I myself harbored that kind of righteousness based purely on doctrinal differences, as if I in any remote fashion can consider my commitment to Jesus to approach hers at all. Lord, let it be so!

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UPDATE ON MY THORN

Journal entry from 7/22:

Here I sit in adoration. Now, I can smile at least that I still have my thorn. Mirth emanates from the Blessed Sacrament today, as though Jesus is saying to me, "See? It is teaching you a lot!"

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The other night, Wolfgang admonished the "doubting Thomas" at our dinner table.

Zoya fished a bay leaf out of her soup, which led to our retelling the story of Psalm's choking incident when he tried to eat a leaf as a young toddler and got it stuck in his throat. We called 911 because nothing was working, including the Heimlich maneuver.

"Did he die?" Noah asked.

"Well, no," I answered, peering at him and then at Psalm, living and breathing in the seat across from him.

"How do you know he's not a ghost?" Noah persisted.

To my delight, Wolfgang responded, "Noah! Feed him some fish! Touch his hands! He's not a ghost!"

(In case you're wondering, by the time 5 medics were gathered in our living room, Psalm had managed to gag it out and simply outstretched his little head to politely partake of the offer of oxygen.)

Here's the Scripture reference if you're not familiar with it:

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They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost. He said to them, "Why are you troubled, and why do doubts rise in your minds? Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have."

When he had said this, he showed them his hands and feet. And while they still did not believe it because of joy and amazement, he asked them, "Do you have anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate it in their presence. ~Luke 24:37-43)

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