Several weeks ago, I sat in on a presentation given by the Office of Active Citizenship and Service (OACS). I watched as first-year students fell asleep with excitement to get involved in the community. OACS addressed both sides of their mission: local community service and broader public service. They showed films from Freedom Ride and a slideshow from the Kampala Project, which seemed to make very little impact on a student body more concerned, for the most part, about the injustices of meal plan options and slogans for fund-raisers. Very shortly afterwards, the Mother Theresa “scandal” broke, and I found myself comparing the two incidents. I still don’t like what I saw.
For anybody not familiar with the recent story regarding Mother Theresa, it appears that she felt tormented about her faith, precisely during the time when she was pursuing her most famous work in Calcutta, India. Something caused her to deeply question her faith, her purpose, and even the existence of God, Christ, and any form of redemption for the soul. She wondered whether she even had a soul. All of these doubts manifested themselves in letters she wrote to her superiors and her confessors. Most remarkably, her letters span the course of some 66 years. Recently, her letters have gone to print for the public to read, and they have gained critical media attention from those who would deign to label her a hypocrite.
When I read articles questioning her candidacy for sainthood in light of these letters, I was rather surprised at her faithlessness and tenacity, and completely disgusted with the media. I grew up Catholic, and I always felt like a worthless person whenever the topic of Mother Theresa came up. To know that she was human and had doubts like anybody else made her feel that much more real to me, and it was a bit of a relief to know that she wasn’t perfect. But then to read the media reports, questioning whether she should be canonized? It made me both angry and disdainful (“Clearly,” I thought, “these writers have never been to Mass”). After all, doesn’t it speak volumes that she persisted in her job, despite the fact that she felt like she was throwing away her life in the name of God? How many people could work for 66 years in those conditions and maintain a brave face, while facing a desperate internal struggle for meaning? If nothing else, her persistence earns her sainthood. And, if the Church needs a second miracle for her canonization (beyond her revelation from God that she should begin work in the first place), I would think that the fact that she never gave up hope of eventually finding God should qualify as such.
How does Mother Theresa relate to a perceived student-body apathy? To me, it has to do with the idea of service and persisting to help both the Vanderbilt and the Nashville communities, despite a heavy course load or undesirable tasks. If community service isn’t your thing, then working to become an active citizen, whether through a political student group on campus or a local campaign, should be something for which every Vanderbilt student strives. Apathy about the world around us should not be an option. Mother Theresa went about her work for 66 years, even though she felt “repulsed… empty… no faith… no love… no zeal.” If she, who we now know faced normal doubt, can feel such compulsion to work in those tragic conditions for a lifetime, surely we can take a few hours here and there out of our busy schedules to work for something larger than ourselves, whether it be service or student organizations. The importance of personal charity cannot be swept under the rug in favor of personal ambition. I challenge the class of 2011 to stay awake next time OACS speaks about getting involved, and I hope that all of Vanderbilt asks themselves, “What would Mother Theresa do?” the next time they are faced with giving up a Saturday afternoon for community or public service.
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