Life

Raising voices in praise of God where St Teresa of Calcutta stood

It is in prayer we find the resources to build our towers and wage our battles, writes Fr Dominic McGrattan

Saint, then Mother, Teresa pictured in 1993 in Belfast. Picture by Hugh Russell
Saint, then Mother, Teresa pictured in 1993 in Belfast. Picture by Hugh Russell Saint, then Mother, Teresa pictured in 1993 in Belfast. Picture by Hugh Russell

"I see Jesus in every human being. I say to myself this is hungry Jesus, I must feed him. This is sick Jesus. This one has leprosy or gangrene. I must wash and tend to him. I serve because I love Jesus." - Mother Teresa.

As a young seminarian studying for the priesthood in Rome, I was gifted with a number of opportunities to put Gospel values into practice. Working with refugees and asylum seekers at the Jesuit-run San Saba hostel, assisting members of the San'Egidio community to distribute food and blankets to the homeless, and tutoring the children of Irish expats living in Rome in preparation for the sacraments were some of the many and varied ways that formed me to better serve God's people. These pastoral encounters convinced me of the truth that I could only be an effective priest if I learned from the wisdom gained from hands-on pastoral experience.

Perhaps the most formative of these experiences was my work with the Missionaries of Charity at the ancient church of San Gregorio. Mother Teresa, foundress of the order, had herself lived and worked at San Gregorio some years before, and her commitment to serve the poorest of the poor lived on in the spirit of that community. With the sisters there I did the laundry, mopped floors, served food and tended the gardens; the kind of chores which, if done with love, make a house a home - and the residents of San Gregorio certainly needed a home. They had fallen on hard times in all manner of ways and would have been left destitute had it not been for the love and care afforded them by the sisters.

One resident whom I befriended, Stefan, was a labourer from Eastern Europe who had come to Italy to work and who, after a bad fall on a building site, ended up confined to a wheelchair. Every week I would visit, bringing him for a stroll. Often we would chat in the nearby gardens but sometimes we would venture further toward the Circus Maximus or the Colosseum. Grateful as he was for the time I spent with him, Stefan can't have been enamoured by the deep and meaningful discussions we'd have, for though his Italian was by then fluent, I struggled with the lingua franca. As penitential as it must have been for him, there was some relief to be found in the supply of cigarettes I would bring him to see him through the week.

When I look back at that time in San Gregorio, especially in the light of Mother Teresa's recent canonisation, I am thankful to have experienced, at first hand, how she and her sisters modelled for us a Church close to the poor, a Church who is mother to the poor, a Church that lives in the joy of serving the poor. And how apt it is that Mother Teresa should be canonised in this extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. Mercy was for her a way of life, made up of love, kindness, forgiveness and compassion towards all. Little wonder that she should be described as an `icon of mercy'.

On the day of her canonisation, the Gospel passage from Saint Luke recounted that cautionary tale of the cost of discipleship and the need to weigh up whether we have what it takes. Now few of us have needed to build a tower, much less review troops before battle but we all have plans that require us to assess our resources. Do I have what it takes to get that degree...to care for a foster child or elderly relative...to lead that Bible study in my parish?

To aid our discernment, Jesus tells us that if anyone comes to him and does not `hate' mother or father, sister or brother, husband or wife, or even his own self, they cannot be his disciple.

Hate is a strong word and though scripture scholars tell us that it is a figure of speech commonly used by the Jews of his day - an exaggeration to make a point - there is no avoiding the radical and demanding nature of the call to discipleship. Jesus is telling us that we are not to prefer anyone or anything to God. He wants the disciples, and us, to understand that discipleship means having no security other than total commitment to Jesus.

Discipleship, then, is costly. To gain all, we must be willing to give all. That is the point of the brief parables about building a tower or setting off to battle a foe. In each case, the builder and the king must `first sit down and consider'. One pastor, reflecting on Mother Teresa's canonisation, remarked that sitting down and considering is part of every saint's DNA, it's what we call prayer. It is in prayer we find the resources to build our towers and wage our battles.

Mother Teresa certainly had what it takes. She herself would say "try to feel the need for prayer often during the day and take the trouble to pray. Prayer makes the heart large enough until it can contain God's gift of Himself". Yet prayer, as the life of Mother Teresa shows with great translucency, does not distance us from the cares of the world or the needs of our neighbour. Prayer is the lifting up of our heart and mind to God, but this does not lead us to ignore our neighbour. As Pope Francis says, "to ignore another person's suffering is to ignore God". True worship, he adds, "does not exist if it is not translated into service of our neighbour".

When I recall that first year in Rome, working with the sisters at San Gregorio, I am reminded of an important moment of insight on my journey of discernment. In preparation for Easter, I spent some days in silent retreat with my brother seminarians. My retreat director invited me sit down and consider Saint Mark's Gospel, especially the miracle stories. One of the things which struck me about Christ's healing miracles was a recurring pattern: in each encounter with sickness or need, Jesus reached out his hands, touched, healed and raised up. My director suggested to me that this healing action ought to be central to my future ministry as a priest.

Mother Teresa never baulked at getting her hands dirty in the service of God and neighbour. She would urge us to recognise Christ in our brothers and sisters, even when they appear in various guises, sometimes disagreeable ones. People, she would say, are unreasonable, illogical and self-centred. Love them anyway, for it is to them that we must reach out, touch, heal and raise up. That love which proved the driving force of her service compelled her to take great risks and to act without hesitation.

At times, she scandalised the world because she did not shun the publicans and sinners of her day. Like Jesus, she met with them and often recruited their assistance. Others criticised her because she did not adopt the sophisticated approaches to poverty of a modern NGO, or because she was not a crusader against social injustice and structural sin in the manner of many self-styled champions of the downtrodden. She was a real woman who took on the battles she could win. "If you can't feed a hundred people, then feed one," she would say.

Shortly after Mother Teresa's canonisation, I was privileged to celebrate a Mass of thanksgiving in St Patrick's Church, Donegall Street where I am a curate. Given that St Patrick's is host to the Door of Mercy for Down and Connor diocese in this Jubilee Year, it was appropriate that we should celebrate the life and work of this icon of mercy.

Many who gathered for Mass recalled that Mother Teresa had lived and worked in Belfast during some of the city's darkest days. When, at the preface I gestured to them with my hands to lift up their hearts and give thanks to God, I was especially conscious of the words I spoke. In the preface of the Mass, we say we join our voices with the angels and saints in heaven to praise God. On that day, we remembered that she raised her voice in praise of God in the place where we stood. When we invoke the intercession of the saints, it is to ask them to pray for us so that one day we may praise God where they stand today. Saint Teresa of Calcutta, pray for us.

:: Fr Dominic McGrattan is curate in St Patrick's Church, Belfast and chaplain to the Mater Hospital.