Encounter with a Saint
Calcutta, India, 1987 · Part 1 of 2

“Mother will see you now.”

 Can this really be happening? I’m going to meet an actual living saint! What am I going to say?

A week ago, I had finally found Mother Teresa’s charity. It had been so hard to do. It was in a deteriorating area down an inauspicious alley amid the squalor of Calcutta. It was difficult to confirm the actual address; maps were not accurate, as street names were always changing, taxis were of little help, and locals were never sure.

I wandered round and round and finally discovered the alley. There was a little wood door that was painted red with crosses on it. A bell was on the left and immediately above it was a small sign, ‘Mother is Out’. I rang the bell anyway and a sister opened the door. She was nice but explained most people who see Mother and her Missionaries of Charity have scheduled a year or so in advance. Seeing her renowned Home of the Dying Destitutes, where the dying are picked from the street to die with dignity, required special invitation with longer lead times.

Later that night, I learned more from locals how revered Mother Teresa was. One said “If there was only one airplane seat open and Rajiv Gandhi and she wanted it, it would definitely go to Mother. She has the highest status in India.” Another noted “She’s very old but completely tireless … she just keeps going on and on.” Another mused “She holds leprosy victims when no one else would dare.”

I had seen a parade of lepers marching down the street who were completely isolated, and was moved that Mother Teresa would touch these untouchables. This first week in Calcutta had been an assault on my senses … the sight of people bathing on the street, smells of poverty and excrement, sounds of a raucous procession to a funeral pyre … how did Mother Teresa rise above all this? She must be so incredibly holy.

Now today, on my last day in Calcutta, I had this premonition and strong urge to try again.

I re-traced my steps back, walked down the alley again to the inconspicuous red door with crosses. I see the sign now says ‘Mother is In’.  Good news, but I knew that didn’t mean I’ll ever see her. I rang the bell and the same sister answered. “I see the Mother is in, is there any possible way I might see her?” She looked at me intensely. I could feel her assessing me. “Yes”, she finally says, “Briefly.”

I was in shock. I started to panic. What am I going to say? How do you possibly converse with a living saint? I obviously had not thought this through. I furiously combed my hair outside on a car window before going in.

The sister led me through the convent. This is where the sisters all lived and prayed. We went through the courtyard with its beautiful fountain, rock formation and statue of Mary. We passed a simple room where sisters, all dressed in white robes, were kneeling and praying. It was the prayer time of day. I saw crosses and signs with Bible verses on the walls. There was a chalkboard that changed daily, signed by Mother saying: “Rejoice that once more Christ is working through the world in you, and through you, going about doing good”.  

The sister led me to wait in a little room upstairs. There were pictures of Pope John Paul and other famous people with Mother Teresa. And a Prayer for Peace on the wall. I started to practice a little speech. I said a prayer, asking God for the right words. I saw a Bible and started reading … It had interesting commentary on how to integrate Indian culture when reading scripture.

While I was sitting there, the sister brought in an older man who looked like a government official. He was quite formal and seemed he had an appointment with Mother. The sister indicated that Mother was still saying her prayers and then had a full calendar. The government official and I looked at each other, and sat in silence for at least an hour, waiting and thinking.

“Mother will see you now.”

It all happened so quickly.

The sister gathered both of us from the waiting room and led us to a hallway. We waited a few minutes. Then all of a sudden, a short, rotund, older woman came walking briskly down the hallway. She was dressed in a white robe with blue trim that went over her head so only her face showed, like the other sisters. Except she was wearing a little blue buttoned sweater.  She seemed very business-like with things on her mind and on her way somewhere.

I didn’t recognize her. But then I realized it was Mother Teresa when the government official fell to his knees and touched and kissed her feet. He stood up, touched her hands and said “Hello, Mother.” They had a short business-like conversation in Bengali. It sounded as though she gave her approval and then he left very quickly.

So now it was just Mother and me.

I nodded, shook her hand and managed to eke out “Hello, I’m Russ from Chicago, and I just wanted to meet you. I very much admire you and the good work you do.” That’s all I was able to say 

“You’re from Chicago? Do you work with our Missionaries of Charity there?”

So, this was a question from Mother Teresa … I had to be honest. “Well, umm, actually, I haven’t yet, but I’ve heard of your good work and will check when I return”. I thought it was a good answer, under the circumstances. 

“Oh yes, yes, yes.”

A British man came by and he was trying  to scurry Mother out. It looked like he was her chief of staff. So I said “Thank you so much for allowing me to see you, Mother. God bless you.”

Mother nodded. She turned away and went near the window. The man was still attempting to get her to move through the hallway.

I’m not sure what I was expecting, but this was not it. It wasn’t like the heavens had opened up with a celestial choir singing. I wasn’t having a holy experience. Mother Teresa didn’t seem like a saint. She seemed very practical, more like a businesswoman. She commanded respect. You could tell she was a manager and made things happen. She was kind but direct, and not warm and fuzzy. Appearance-wise, she also was not as frail and thin as she appeared in the media. She actually had a large protruding abdomen. Her face had more flesh to it and was quite wrinkled. She was extremely short.

While Mother was at the window, I knew I had to document this moment. Even though I suspected the answer, I had to ask. When she turned around, I said “Oh, Mother, it would be a great honor if I could take a picture of you.”

She stopped, looked at me quizzically, then says, “No. I'm sorry, you cannot. It's just not possible.” But then she added with her first smile, “When you come to Chicago, you can take a picture of me there.”

I exclaimed “Thank you so much!” Her smile was kind and authentic and displayed straight but worn, discolored teeth. Her light-colored eyes softened a bit. I felt like Mother was warming up.

The chief of staff finally got Mother to start her way out. We walked through the convent, gathered a few sisters, went out the front door with the bell, down the alley and to the main street. I tagged along and followed the entourage. No one told me either way … I wasn’t specifically invited, but I wasn’t disinvited either.

When we got to the street, there was no car. It was supposed to be there taking Mother to the airport to go to an important meeting. I thought, isn’t it interesting that Mother also has deadlines and errands that she has to do?  I also noted that it was indeed true, Mother does not wear shoes and walks with her bare feet on the tortuous city streets.

Meanwhile, Mother was causing pandemonium. People from all over the street started rushing up to her, touching her, falling to the ground on their knees and kissing her feet. It was like they were trying to channel strength or healing from her. They wouldn’t linger long, but would move on to allow others. Some would do the Indian greeting, folding their hands in prayer. Others would simply gawk at her. In all this, Mother didn’t have much of a reaction. She would acknowledge but also continue doing what she needed to do.

The chief of staff gets on a bicycle and goes away. I anticipated he was going to find out why the car wasn’t there. The sisters are off to the side out of deference to Mother Teresa.

And so, it’s just Mother Teresa and me standing together in silence.

I decide to pick up on current events … “I heard that you were just in the Philippines, that you do a lot of traveling visiting your charities. How many countries are your charities in?” A question I should have known the answer to.

“We’re in 77 countries now. We’re doing a lot of things in the United States. I'm so happy that our charity in New York is helping AIDS victims.”

“ I just want to say that is so wonderful you dedicate your life and do all this. God bless you.” I felt so grateful for her kindness in letting me stand with her.  But was still feeling awkward.  I paused and said, “I hope it's okay to stand here with you, Mother.”

Mother smiled broadly and said “Yes.”

Then Mother looks intently at me and asks “Have you ever been to my Home of the Dying & Destitutes”? 

Oh my goodness, her premier institution difficult to get into! I said “No, but it would be so great to go!”

“Oh you must go. You must go. I will get someone to take you there.”

She snapped her fingers in the air and shouted out a few Bengali words. The sisters jumped to attention. One runs over to her side. The sister says “I will arrange, Mother.” 

“You go with her. You can go to the Dying Destitutes”.  She gave me one last beautiful smile.

That was the last interaction I had with Mother Teresa. Moments later, the car arrived to take her to the airport, and I was off with the group of sisters back to the convent.

I couldn’t believe I met and talked with Mother! In the middle of her busy day. And am now her special guest!

My adventure had only started.