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John North
Editor & Publisher |
Having visited Calcutta and Mother Teresaís headquarters about six years ago, I was intrigued by recent revelations that are certain to tarnish her saintly image.
Others before and after her also have undergone rigorous post-mortem scrunity, but the unveiling of the resounding clash between Mother Teresaís public image and her true nature are startling.
Quite frankly, I donít see how anyone could reconcile the contradiction ó which borders on hypocrisy ó in someone who has been almost universally admired as one of the best and noblest of human beings.
The book of her letters, ìMother Teresa: Come Be My Light,î which was
recently published by Doubleday on the 10th anniversary of her death,
tells of the nunís decades-long struggle against disbelief.
ìIf I ever become a saint, I will surely be one of ëdarkness,íî she
wrote in one letter. (Ironically, the latest step in Mother Teresaís
path toward sainthood took place with her beatification on Oct. 19,
2003, by Pope John Paul II.)
ìIf there is no God ó there can be no soul. If there is no soul then
Jesus ó You also are not true. Heaven, what emptiness,î Mother Teresa
stated in another letter.
While I recognize that all people, by their very nature, are flawed,
including those widely considered among the best, when the flaws are
serious, involve core issues and are deliberately hidden by that
individual, then, to me, that ìheroî becomes all too ordinary.
Another example from India, Mahatma Gandhi, freely admitted his many
flaws, and scholarsí subsequent findings havenít seemed to diminish his
luster as a bonafide hero. Gandhiís personal failings as a husband and
a parent, which he himself grieved over, and his dubious
experimentations with chastity and self-control have been well
documented.
Gandhi, in his never-ending quest for truth, was open and humble ó and
his flaws donít affect the core of his beliefs and what he stood for.
He appeared to have internal consistency.
In contrast, Mother Teresa, forever linked with India in the publicís
mind although she was from Macedonia, reportedly wanted the letters she
wrote destroyed ó and for good reason, if she was concerned strictly
with maintaining her shining legacy.
The letters also reveal her wily and willful side. As a young nun, she
pushed to the brink her strict vow of obedience in her efforts to leave
the convent walls of the Loreto Sisters, her original order, and live
among the poor of Calcuttaís slums. Her archbishop finally relented to
her pleas, and the rest was written in history ó with the aid of a
sympathetic news media.
Obviously, Mother Teresa was outstanding in many ways. She devoted most
of her life to helping the poorest of the poor, and she seemed to be
effective in that effort. At least on the surface, she kept the faith
with the people of Calcutta.
However, the fact that she strove to infuse the sick and those around
her with her sense of the divine when, in reality, she was suffering
from decades of spiritual emptiness, is both remarkable and troubling.
Another dark aspect of Mother Teresaís situation is that, perhaps
unwittingly, she served as an example of colonial racism ó wherein a
white outsider enters a situation and, with the conviction that she
knows best what is beneficial for the natives, asserts her agenda.
For instance, despite Calcuttaís overpopulation (which I saw
firsthand), she used her conservative Roman Catholic doctrine to
condemn abortion, and she showed little respect for othersí religions
by seeking to convert Hindus and Muslims who were on the verge of death.
Some heroic figures still can be admired for their positive qualities
and actions despite subsequent tarnishing revelations. But in Mother
Teresaís case, it seems the more we learn about her, the less saintly
she becomes.
ï
John North, publisher and editor of the Daily Planet, may be contacted at
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