I've tried several times to w
rite of my own childhood "Grace" so to speak, and loss, of my conflicting and now dormant beliefs, but the musings of a disgruntled former choir boy doesn't quite have the gravitas of a young woman's sacrifice of self to God and Mother Teresa. What is similar is that I'm sure we both remember quite well when we believed, the emotion and joy of that feeling...and where, then, does all that go? Is it ever reconcilable? In my case I wonder if it falls in the realm of wearing coonskin caps ( I never did any such thing ) or believing fervently in Superman?
An Unquenchable Thirst is a journey of profound spirituality, of awakening consciousness, and is much more than a glimpse into the fascinating persona of Mother Teresa. It's brutally honest, in ways quite critical, but infused also with love, and ends in love. It's not at all simply about rejection. That the other principals of this story may not see it that way is rather telling. Mary is the one with the wide open eyes.
The timeline of her book ends of course before its publication, with a rather cold reception of Mary from her former Sisters, and obvious attitude that she no longer belonged. I'd be very curious to read a follow up, a post publication reaction to her account. I wonder just how tall and wide, the depth, of the wall that would be erected against such honesty.
- Marc Woods is an auto body technician in southern New Hampshire and happily lapsed Catholic.