Mother Teresa: Come and See  Linda Schaefer

From the "Introduction" of Come and See: A Photojournalist's Journey into the World of Mother Teresa (DC Press, Sanford, FL, October 2003)

 

 “Come and See” were the words Mother Teresa said to me in one of the most intimate moments I had with her. I didn’t realize then that she had given me the very words to describe the journey that led me to her. At the time she said, “come and see”, I thought she had me confused with someone else. “Come and See” is a program the Missionaries of Charity offers to young women interested in dedicating their lives to God through Mother Teresa’s Order. It gives them the opportunity to live and work alongside the Sisters for a trial period to see if they can meet the challenges of this demanding lifestyle.

 

I had been in Calcutta working as a volunteer with the Missionaries of Charity for a few weeks, when I decided to approach Mother Teresa for the second time to ask permission to photograph the facilities operated by her Order in Calcutta. Earlier, when I posed the question to her, she said, “I don’t need photographers. I need volunteers,” and then suggested that I work at Shishu Bhawan, one of her orphanages. Now I was determined to ask her again. After all, I knew that she never took “no” for an answer.

 

After lunch I climbed the stairs of the Motherhouse to meet with Mother Teresa. A Sister went into the private rooms where the administrative work is carried out, and returned with the 85-year-old leader of one of the world’s largest humanitarian organizations. She looked at me with piercing eyes, and with a sweep of her hand invited me to sit down next to her on a concrete bench.

 

I asked her again if I could photograph the work for a possible book. She asked me, “Why? There are already many books. People are making too much money on them,” she said. I promised her that this would not be that kind of book. She tilted her head as she responded to me. “No,” was all she said as she looked at me again with those penetrating eyes. That “no” was like an arrow piercing my heart; I felt as if I was going to evaporate in front of her. For me it was like the divine mother rejecting her child. I immediately burst into tears.

 

I had flown half way across the world in search of the woman who for me symbolized the embodiment of unconditional motherly love, and at that moment the little girl inside of me felt crushed by that word “no” because I needed her acceptance as a mother figure.

 

Mother Teresa's rejection created in me a similar feeling to the one I held about my own mother's inability  to give me the kind of support for which I had always yearned. I knew that she loved me, but I craved her acceptance for who I had become as a woman. If I could have given my mother the words I wanted to hear, they would have been, “Yes Linda, you are an artist. Go into the world with this gift of yours, and make beautiful photographs that express who you are. Even if you aren’t perfect, and the photographs aren’t perfect, you are on your own path, and I respect the journey you have chosen.”

 

I struggled through the insecure process of carving out a niche in my chosen field. Material success was not my goal -- nor status and wealth. My quest as a photographer led me in many directions as I searched for meaning in my life through documentary projects such as those shot in Bosnia, Croatia, the Brazilian Amazon, the lost children of Rio de Janeiro, and during the 1988 U.S. presidential campaign).

 

And now, sitting beside Mother Teresa, I took her rejection personally. Was what I had to offer not significant or helpful to her Mission? I began to cry and Mother Teresa comforted me as I apologized for my outburst.

 

She consoled me as a river of tears fell on her sloping shoulders. She leaned her head close to mine, and holding my hands gave me an assignment. “Write a proposal about what you want to do. I will pray about this tonight, and you come back tomorrow.”

 

At that moment, I sensed her motherly love radiating through her hands and warming my heart. It was inconceivable to me that Mother Teresa would take so much time out of her day to console a wounded woman who had come to Calcutta to find a place in her heart and in her world. To be given permission to photograph the institution she had created would be the greatest gift I could imagine.  When I looked at her through my tears, I saw only love. Her physical form seemed so inappropriate, almost like an illusion for those who couldn’t see beyond the manifestation she presented to the world.

 

That afternoon, I sat in the middle of my narrow bed, and tried to put into words the desire that was in my heart. I realized this was a frightening experience. Who was I to write and photograph about this living saint, a woman I could never hope to understand or do justice to through my work. I wasn’t an enlightened soul who walked the same path as Mother Teresa. I was a regular person struggling along a bumpy road, working towards obtaining greater wisdom. Only God knew the significance of Mother Teresa’s mission, and I hoped to play a minor role on that journey with photography as my instrument.

 

I knew without a doubt that Mother Teresa was at a much higher level of consciousness than most of us, and that she expressed her love for humanity through her actions more than through words. When I was in her presence, and saw the love reflected in her eyes, it gave me the incentive to reach for that place of inner peace.

 

I felt this experience with Mother Teresa was a part of my journey. I was on a life-long quest in search of the living holy mother. With this awareness of my mission, I was ultimately building my own spiritual strength as a woman. I had always admired Mother Teresa for her unconditional love for all humans and for the humbleness of her character. For me she represented the perfect earth mother, protector of all of her children.

 

Early the next morning, I walked to the Motherhouse with the few papers in hand that I hoped would convince Mother Teresa that my motivations were pure, and that my purpose was not to take advantage of her name or organization.

 

Once again, Mother Teresa joined me on the concrete bench outside of her office. She glanced at the first page and then looked at me in the most hopeful manner. “Are you truly committed?” she asked me. “Yes, yes,” I responded, my heart pounding in anticipation of her decision. “It’s very hard work,” she continued. Again I nodded. “We have a program here called “Come and See,” she said. You can come and try us out.”

 

It then dawned on me that she was suggesting that I become a nun! “No, no Mother Teresa, I’m a photographer. We talked yesterday.” “Oh yes,” she said with surprise, as if only now recalling our conversation. She went to the window of her office and asked a Sister for a piece of paper. It was an almost transparent pink sheet, and on it she wrote, “Dear Sisters, Please allow Linda Schaefer to photograph the work. God Bless You, Mother Teresa.”

 

I knew at that moment that Mother Teresa was half joking with me, because the Order doesn’t accept women my age into the “Come and See” program. Some people might have thought that her memory was faltering, but I knew that she was completely aware of what she was saying.

 

Later, I would realize that by suggesting that I “come and see” that she was testing my sincerity and that she would require the same kind of commitment from me as she would from anyone involved with her organization. “Come and See” is the gift she offers to thousands of volunteers, visitors, and most importantly, prospective Sisters. It is the opportunity to be a part of an experience that is hard to put into words or to even imagine from inside the safe walls of one’s own reality.

 

Mother Teresa gave everyone who found the courage to “come and see” the chance to open their hearts through the direct experience of seeing the suffering as well as the joy inside of the walls of her homes for the dying, the neglected, the homeless, the sick, and the abandoned.

 

Excerpted from the "Introduction" of Come and See: A Photojournalist's Journey into the World of Mother Teresa by Linda Schaefer (DC Press, Sanford, FL, October 2003)

 

© 2003 Linda Schaefer. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of DC Press, Sanford, FL.

 

Linda Schafer, a former editor and photojournalist with CNN, was hired by the Archdiocese of Atlanta to photograph a visit of Mother Teresa to open an AIDS hospice in 1995. Schaefer, known for the quality of her work (the Martin Luther King, Jr. family photographer, fashion photography in New York, crime scene photographer for the NYPD, video and still documentary on a nearly extinct tribe along the Amazon, the lost children of Rio de Janeiro, the 1988 presidential campaign) has had her work published in Time, Newsweek, the LA Times, the NY Times, Stern, Parade, the Catholic Digest, etc. Schaefer left her job and went to India in an effort to convince Mother Teresa to allow her to become her photographer. Having lost her first husband to cancer just prior to these events, Schaefer was also searching for some spiritual transformation and was devastated when Mother Teresa turned her down, saying "NO," and telling her that there were too many photographs and too many people making money off of her, while the sick and poor kept dying and being ignored. After accepting a challenge from Mother Teresa to "come and see" what the work was really like, she put her cameras down and went to work in the orphanages and houses of the dying and the leper colony. In time Mother Teresa was so impressed with her dedication and sincerity that she gave Linda a handwritten note on which she granted her permission to "photograph the work." With this OK, Schaefer went off on a round-the-clock photo shoot in which she captured sights and scenes previously unseen or documented. She followed Mother Teresa's on directive on how she hoped such a book would appear: with fewer photos of her and more of those who really made the work a reality. And so the book is a compilation of 155 select photographs (all full color, unlike most books that have been published previously in black and white) that show that in the midst of the poverty and agony of daily life, there is much joy and happiness. The book that resulted, Come and See: A PhotoJournalist’s Journey into the World of Mother Teresa, really does tell the story that Mother Teresa had hoped it would. For more information, go to www.MotherTeresaOfCalcutta.com.