A Visit With Mother Teresa

On a recent trip to India my wife and I--on a whim--called the Missionaries of Charity when we arrived in Calcutta. We asked if we might meet with Mother Teresa. Never did we imagine that the voice on the other end of the phone would simply ask, “Can you be here at four o’clock?”! Just like that: no waiting, no layers of intermediaries, no protocol.

The paralyzed Calcutta traffic made us late, but it forced us to take long unflinching looks at the stomach-wrenching poverty of thousands of street people who would be difficult for anyone to hold and love. In the stifling heat we entered an aged, non-air-conditioned building, its only decorations some children’s art on the walls. We went up some stairs (there were no elevators), down a corridor and entered another stairway. Then, suddenly, on a landing, there was Mother Teresa: no entourage, no ceremony, in her late 80s, climbing the stairs.

We stood on that landing and talked awhile. Mother Teresa was every bit as much interested in finding out about us as we were about her. It was relaxed, familiar, utterly without pretension. At conversation’s end she hugged us, blessed us and resumed climbing the stairs.

Why is there no weeklong outpouring of grief for the loss of this gnarled octogenarian who spent 50 years living full-time with and caring for the poorest of the poor? Not enough glamour?

DONALD STOLAR

Los Angeles