outWORD by Matte Downey

When people contacted Mother Teresa to find out more about her and her work among the poor in India, she was often known to reply with the words of Jesus:  come and see . Mother Teresa knew that no amount of explanation could adequately communicate the nature of the world in which she lived and laboured. A person had to experience it for themselves. Come and see. Come and see is a favourite phrase of children. I am often invited to come to a child's room to see something. I know that the child is not asking me to stay at a discreet distance and observe as if collecting data for a report. The child is inviting me to get up close and personal, to sit on the floor and hold each precious toy that is handed to me. The child is inviting me to enter into their world, to join in their experience. I am expected to press buttons that make noises. I am expected to hug a plush animal. I am expected to join in a silly song or dance. I am expected to smell yellow candies in order to tell...

I sometimes think: if I had been living in the first century, I would have been an eager follower of Jesus of Nazareth. But I am not so sure. The gospel accounts reveal how hard it was for people to reconcile what they imagined the Messiah would be like with the rather unremarkable son of Joseph. Even the disciples were often unsure about the identity of their teacher, especially when things went horribly wrong during the Passover celebration. Before they could really grasp the severity of the situation, Jesus was arrested and executed. Not surprisingly, most of them scattered. Jesus was gone. His death - a public, ignoble affair - dealt the final blow. Their loyalty was now a cause for mockery. Their constant companion for the past three years was no longer with them. Or so they thought. In the thick of all their disappointment and grief, they failed to see what Jesus had been trying to show them all along: that the Messiah came to serve and to love, even when it cost him his life...

Ocean Beach, California.  I love being close to the beach. Quite a few characters there that I found hard to love, though. I was preparing a lecture on Catherine of Genoa this afternoon and came across the following disturbing sentences:  "She was greatly zealous in ... bringing help to the sick and the poor to the best of her ability.  She would clean the most nauseating filth, and if she felt her stomach heaving, she would put some of it in her mouth to overcome her squeamishness."  I felt a bit sick just reading that, to be honest.  I don't understand how putting something disgusting in your mouth can help you overcome nausea.  To me, it makes more sense to drop the offensive article and get as far away as possible!  But the principle behind Catherine's action is simple:  if you find it hard to love, get closer.  The same kind of attitude could be seen in Mother Teresa.  She cared for the sick...

I have been reading An Unquenchable Thirst by Mary Johnson, which is a memoir of her 20 years as a sister in the Missionaries of Charity (the order founded by Mother Teresa).  Like all monastic orders, the MC's have a Rule which governs the life of those dedicated to its mission, and this Rule is based on vows of chastity, poverty, and obedience.   Poverty can mean anything from no curtains to changing where you sleep every month.  At the heart of this vow is Mother Teresa's insistence that one not forget the poor.  Chastity is interpreted as not touching another person, avoiding particular friendships, and embracing virginity.  Here, the primacy is put on intimacy with Jesus instead of with another person.  Obedience means that the voice of your superior is the voice of God; this is meant to teach submission to the Absolute.  As Mother Teresa often says, "Let God use you without consulting you." Rules...