“If I ever become a saint—I will surely be one of ‘darkness’. I will continually be absent from heaven—to light the light of those in darkness on earth.” These cryptic words of Mother (now Saint) Teresa of Kolkata make me smile. Is this a trace of her sense of humour or is she shedding some light on the darkness that seemed to engulf her? We’ll never know. But, we could attempt to understand her darkness, and ours.
‘Come Be My Light’—the posthumously published private writings of Mother Teresa—is striking for its repeated references to darkness. Revered worldwide for her glowing countenance and infectious smile, this recurring reference to darkness unsettles admirers of the saint, while critics gleefully consider this as proof that she was but a fraud if not ‘Hell’s Angel’ as the late Christopher Hitchens would have us believe.
The identification of darkness with absence is common. Darkness has no existence by itself, being definable simply as an absence of light. However, it is a potent symbol for some of the profoundest of human experiences. With some two hundred references, darkness is a major player in Biblical narratives, almost always associated with negativity and pessimism.
The primeval mind envisions life as a battle between light and darkness.
The Book of Genesis reads: “In the beginning… the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.” God’s first creative act is to produce light and separate it from the darkness, with overtones of light overcoming darkness.
In the Bible, beyond the menacing meanings of darkness as a physical reality, there are myriad symbolic significances attached to it: ignorance, falsehood, deception, ambushes, violence, breaking into houses, stumbling on paths and sexual misconduct. These are best summarised by Apostle Paul’s caution: “Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness.”
One of Mother’s first followers Gertrude Gomes wrote: “A light has dawned in the darkness of the slums.” Labouring joyfully and selflessly to dispel the darkness of disease, suffering, death, poverty, rejection and female infanticide, Teresa took upon her frail shoulders the immense responsibility of being mother, mentor, nurse, sister, friend and ‘light’ to thousands of those whom she considered sisters and brothers of her ‘spouse’ Jesus.
Parallels to Teresa’s insatiable thirst are traceable in the padas of the mystic Mirabai. “I send letters to my Beloved, the dear Krishna,” wrote she. “But, He sends no message of reply, purposely preserving silence….. I have no peace by night or day. My heart is fit to break. O my Master, You were my companion in former births. When will you come?”
Like a faithful wife who continues caring for and loving her husband and children despite his silent indifference, Teresa remained uncompromisingly committed to love and to serve God’s children. Not experiencing inner light, she heroically not only accepted darkness, but began to befriend it. She confessed: “I have come to love the darkness—for I believe now that it is a part a very, very small part of Jesus’ darkness and pain on earth.”
Darkness appears in many forms: physical, familial, social, psychological and spiritual. Some darkness must be dispelled. Other darkness could be accepted. Still others can be befriended. God alone is source of light. Like Teresa, amidst darkness, we could pray: “Come, be my light!”
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