So it turns out that Mother Teresa, who spent her life caring for the neglected and dying poor of Calcutta, India, had agonizing doubts about the existence of God. She confesses her lack of a sense of God’s presence in letters that have been compiled into the new book “Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light.” Time magazine’s coverage is here.
Psychiatrist and spiritual director Gerald May wrote in “The Dark Night of the Soul” that one of the things that commonly happens in the Dark Night is that
Some critics have jumped on this revelation as proof that all religion is nonsense that won’t stand up to scrutiny by even its most fervent believers.
I disagree.
What these letters show is a change in Teresa's experience of God’s presence – in her feeling, not her will. She remained fully dedicated to the work she had felt called to do, work that few of us could stomach. This radical action for the poor – with the poor – is what distinguishes her from a pew-fleeing backslider. Even more telling is that she still longed for God, still prayed even when her prayers felt dry and empty.
Psychiatrist and spiritual director Gerald May wrote in “The Dark Night of the Soul” that one of the things that commonly happens in the Dark Night is that
“... people lose the concepts and images about God that have served them so well in the past. It is not at all uncommon in experiences of the night for individuals to doubt that they even believe in God anymore because all the signs and hallmarks of what they considered to be their faith are disappearing. Yet to a perceptive companion, the love for God is still there, and stronger than ever in the concern and yearning felt by the individuals. John [St. John of the Cross, 16th-century author of the classic “Dark Night of the Soul”] counsels that this loss of belief is also a good sign. Because ‘God transcends the intellect,’ the mind must be emptied ‘of everything it comprehends.’”
Feeling God's presence, however fleetingly, is such a powerful experience that belief in God's existence seems easier than belief that the sun will rise tomorrow. I know. I've felt it. I've also run into the dark wall of nothingness, where I questioned everything. Everything. And that was at a time when I needed the comfort of faith the most.
But a funny thing happens in the dark. You learn new ways of seeing. Sometimes our comfortable images of God need to be shattered, if only to remind us that God is God and we aren't. Belief isn’t a matter of deciding what you believe and never thinking again.
Steve Brown of Key Life Ministries said something once that stuck with me: Don’t forget in the dark what you learned in the light. That's good advice. But I'd add this: Don’t stop learning in the dark. If you bang your leg, it might mean you need to rearrange the furniture when the lights come back up.
I suspect there is no such thing as a believer who has never felt the absence of God, who has never felt either abandoned or deluded. Many years ago, when I first read C.S. Lewis' "A Grief Observed," written in the terrible darkness after his wife's death, I was a little embarrassed for him. The fervent Christian whose writings had meant so much to so many people seemed to have lost his faith. When I reread that book after my husband's death from cancer this April, it seemed wise and breathtakingly honest -- which was more help to me than any faith-filled assurance that all would be well.
True faith is more than “blessed assurance” and happy feelings. It’s also putting one foot in front of another, living as though there is a God – as though that God is loving and expects you to love others – even when it all seems unreal. That’s what Mother Teresa did for decades.
Mother Teresa used to say, “God does not call us to be successful. He calls us to be faithful.” By any measure, she was faithful to Christ and his call to minister to the “least of these.” That made her a role model and light to many. Even her once-secret doubts shine light. They are a useful lesson to a society that values a feel-good theology of abundance and overlooks the hard work of discipleship.
At least that's how I see it. How about you? Have you walked in darkness? Did it change your beliefs or actions?