The kids and I just finished viewing "Mother Teresa: in the Name of God's Poor." The story is a good reflection on what I've know, in generalities, of the famed servant-healer of Calcutta, India. To see my children's reactions throughout the narrative, to hear their commentary -- moving. And in the concluding scenes, her acceptance speech for the Nobel Peace Prize (I was 6 years old at the time and unaware) . . . "If we turn our back on the poor, we are turning our back on God."
If we turn our back on the poor, we are turning our back on God.
Oh, so you're a bleeding-heart, anything-goes liberal who wants to fork over all of our hard-earned money to the inefficient bureaucracy of big federal government in the name of helping the poor so you can appease your conscience? No, not exactly. Okay, so then, you're a tight-ass, self-serving conservative who fails to see that excessive wealth is excessive, waving the banner of anti-statist freedoms? Not really that, either. Or, maybe a dose of both. And this is where too many verbally aggressive folks would sputter and throw the double wave-off, walking away in annoyance. And this is what makes me so sad. At the end of the day, we, Americans want to keep ourselves and our families and friends safe from harm, full of health, and hopeful of a realistic, promising future -- education and jobs and freedom to choose our lives for ourselves. We really all want the same things for ourselves and for each other. And most of the Americans I know also have hugely empathetic hearts and generous spirits.
Spending time with Mother Teresa's story stirred a number of interesting and difficult thoughts for me. One of which is that a lot of us need to stop blubbering bloatedly about the evils of being not in "my category." We could do well to engage less in "othering" people. We want the same things, and the variety of philosophical methods for attaining those ends has, more so in recent years (in the US), created far more vitriol than is necessary, productive, or tolerable. Political parties do what they do -- politicize for specific purpose -- yet, the working of crowd psychology, the polls, the sound-bite creates a fear of the slippery slope and a black-and-white categorization -- you're either "this" OR you're "that." As a person who is prone to looking at options and considering truth from many places, I'm usually somewheres about in the middle -- where it's complicated and messy. But, isn't real life exactly that, when we're honest with ourselves? I relish debate on all levels of organization, because it IS the hallmark of a free government that is checked and balanced -- as annoying as some of it may seem. I rather like it. But, PLEASE, could we increase the CIVIL discourse? THAT would be rather nice.
Mother Teresa's Missionaries of Charity have, to my understanding, been at times criticized for creating metaphorical saints of the poor, and by extension, validating the status quo of social irresponsibility of the regions where she serves. She was challenged about whether she was making any difference -- wouldn't it be better to create plans, to change politics, to get large-scale programs on the move to reduce the numbers in poverty in the first place? That, however, was not her mission, not her role. A comforter for those suffering today is necessary, AND people working proactively for systemic change is also necessary. (And I could muse randomly for days over my amateur interest in development economics and all things related, but I will continue to read and to learn and perhaps drag you through those thoughts at a later date.)
American reporter guy who had been writing about Indian independence, the partitioning, and then, about Mother Teresa and her religious order, Missionaries of Charity, confesses that he likely won't ever really understand (how they stay motivated to serve the poorest of the poor every single day). In response Mother Teresa asks of him one task -- to spoon-feed a gentleman too ill even to sit up in bed. The man being fed mumbles to the reporter, and a nearby nun translates, "He is giving you his blessing." Reporter: "He's blessing me? I could buy him a million times over with the change in my pocket." Nun: "Yes. But you couldn't buy his blessing." We see him in the next scene, sitting alone, wading through his own cognitive dissonance, clearly moved. And troubled.
How often am I too hurried with my Wal-mart list, watching the time to get back home quickly enough to prepare a child for a dance lesson? Too busy to remember humility? To be aware that the lady "blooping" my groceries and the fellow in the car who waved me to cross with my cart in front of him have their own tasks and responsibilities and time lines. To see the face of God, a robust human spirit, a creative soul with unique personality in the eyes of a leper, of a rowdy student, or my child who left the toilet seat up and the potty unflushed for the third time in an afternoon. Stop and remember myself, and remember my humanity and earth-bound limitations, my foibles, and false imaginings. Alllllll the extraneous trappings of life are not real, not real at all.
The final "big thought" that I couldn't ignore this evening was that one of Mother Teresa's great contributions was that of setting an example of Jesus' love -- going so far as to respect the Hindu customs and beliefs of the people she held, fed, and bandaged. A Catholic nun uninterested, to my understanding, in converting people to Christianity, but rather, showing selflessness and generosity and self-sacrifice in the belief that Christians and Hindus pray to and serve the same God. She did not get hung up on custom and club. And Teresa was, indeed, a devout Catholic -- it is what worked for her, called to the religous life at the age of 13, living as a cloistered nun in convent life for 17 years, and then hoping that the Vatican would grant her to permission to continue her work with the poor while maintaing her role as an official servant of the Roman Catholic Church. Too often we, humans, becomes so devout in our worship, according to our sect and custom that we get lost in the trappings and become hell-bent on "othering" anyone who doesn't worship as do we, with our symbols, our prayers. This, above all things, has troubled me, deeply, over many years. The Jesus I believe I know is not about self-righteousness, or exclusion. His teachings, as I believe them, are not to ordain mere mortals as the judge and jury of the souls of their neighbors. Not to take, close, or shun, but to give, open, and embrace.
So, all of this lengthy blabbing about politics and Wal-mart and diversity of religions on this earth, and in the end, what I guess I'm getting at is that I'm tired. Aren't you? Of the rhetoric, angst, and anger between people that just doesn't need to infest our lives the way we let it? Watching this DVD on Mother Teresa was a refreshing, albeit it difficult and heart-wrenching, reminder to simplify. Focus. Let go. Simplify humbly. A confident humility, if you will. Maybe I need to post her picture around my house as a reminder.
The Missionaries of Charity is, to some degree, responsible for Chad and my adoption journey. Yes, my love for things anthropological -- especially of African heritage -- was stirred significantly by my own mother's trip into Haiti. It was, however, the picture of a little girl -- who we dubbed "Sunflower" back here, in IL, not knowing her real name -- that pushed us to take the plunge. She was in the care of a Missionaries of Charity orphanage in Haiti. My mom visited there, as one of her travel mates has a daughter in that religious order in New York. The child was so cheerful and affectionate, and my mom fell instantly in love with her and snapped several pictures of her joyfulness. We misunderstood, believing she was orphaned and needed a family, and Chad and I made ourselves available as parents for her. Thus, began our education . . . and the rest of that story is all over prior postings within this blog site . . .
My youngest and most dramatic child, looking for some extra attention in her tired evening hours said to me tonight, "Mom, you're going to have to help me think of good things so I can sleep, you know, after all that stuff in the movie." To be fair, I should admit that it's not all about wanting Mom's attention; she has a sweet heart and a mind that works in overdrive. So, I told her not to think so much about all of the disease, danger, and death that Mother Teresa saw and heard and felt, not to worry about how much courage she had to possess, but rather to think of only this," and I picked her up and cradled her upon my sitting lap. "You know all those people who were in dangerous places, and hungry, and sore, and thirsty, and very lonely? What you need to do is pretend to be one of those people at the very moment that Mother Teresa did this for them." Baylor smiled and relaxed.
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