Hope Endures -- Review
HOPE ENDURES: Leaving Mother Teresa, Losing Faith, and Searching for Meaning. By Colette Livermore. New York: Free Press, 2008. xiv + 253 pp.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta is one of the most revered religious figures of the past century. Whether Christian or not, one cannot help but appreciate her commitment to the poor and marginalized of society, giving of herself to care for the lepers and indigent of Calcutta. Her ministry inspired hundreds of other women and men to join her Missionaries of Charity, serving around the world. In 2003 Pope John Paul II furthered that reverence for that work by fast tracking her path toward sainthood by having her beatified in Rome on October 19, 2003. Like many I too have found inspiration and encouragement in her story and in her work. She was and is an exemplar of Christian service, a model for all followers of Jesus.
That witness and fierce commitment to the poor inspired a young Australian woman more than 35 years ago to take up the cause and become a Missionary of Charity, leaving behind a comfortable life in Australia to live among and serve the poor in places like Manila, Papua New Guinea, and Calcutta. Hope Endures is the autobiographical story of Dr. Colette Livermore, now a medical doctor in Australia, but for eleven years a Catholic nun who ultimately left the order, having experienced not only the light but the darkness of faith. It is also the story, unfortunately, of a journey from faith away from faith.
Every story is unique, and Dr. Livermore would be the first to admit that hers is not the only possible story about Mother Teresa and her movement. Indeed, while in the course of her time as a member of the order she grew disillusioned, she never lost her ultimate respect for Mother Teresa’s vision. It was, instead, the methods and the unwillingness to admit doubt or give opportunity for others to express their doubts, concerns, and visions.
Livermore was the product of a Catholic upbringing, indeed one of her uncles was a Franciscan, though her maternal grandfather was Methodist and not Catholic. A good student at Catholic schools, she planned on attending medical school. Indeed her first inclination was to become a doctor and use that training to serve others, but ultimately she heard a call as a young high school student to join up with the Missionaries of Charity after watching Malcolm Muggeridge’s film Something Beautiful for God. She writes:
In time, Livermore would come to a different view. The path that Mother Teresa offered was a direct one. Don’t waste time preparing to serve, just follow Jesus and go into the world. And so she did.
She followed her calling, and joined the order, moving through the various steps toward final vows. In her new life, she ceased being Colette Livermore, and became Sister Tobit. From the very beginning, while she gave herself completely to her calling, there were signs of unease. What she found in Mother Teresa’s movement was an old-fashioned form of Catholicism, one that was pre-Vatican II. It was severe and traditional. While other religious orders were giving up the habit and embracing “civilian” clothing, this order embraced a most distinctive garb. In time, it would not be the garb or even the penitential disciplines that would disillusion Livermore, instead it was the demand that she give total and unyielding obedience to those above her. A superior could be in the wrong, but could not be confronted. No dissent could be brooked. If one ended up being mistreated, that should be prayerfully endured, for had not Jesus done the same? Doubt and questioning of authority was seen as demonic. Although it was a message of compassion that had drawn her to Mother Teresa and the Sisters, she would discover that obedience had a primacy over all other things, including compassion.
It was not only the blind obedience that would ultimately disturb this committed person of faith, but it was also the pronounced anti-intellectualism of this movement. That very message of immediacy that drew her to the movement, and led her to abandon her pursuit of medical studies, would in time haunt her. Mother Teresa believed strongly that the weak and the ignorant had more value than the one with expertise. Thus, while this movement devoted itself to the needs of the poor and hurting it often did so without the benefit of modern medicine.
The continued emphasis on obedience and the anti-intellectualism that she experienced continued to gnaw on her. She was continually finding herself on the wrong side of things. She would be told that her problem was pride, and that she thought she knew more or was more compassionate than her colleagues and her superiors. But she couldn’t understand why teatime took precedence over caring for the sick and the hungry. She couldn’t understand why, when money was relatively available, they were sent out to beg or they had to make due without proper medicines and preparation. It wasn’t the personal deprivations that bothered her. Indeed, later she would discover the wisdom of living as the poor among the poor, but the contradictions were too stark.
One could say that this is the story of a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. She had heard a call, but her experiences of living in this community offered too much dissonance to her spirit. Ultimately, after seeking permission to leave the order on a number of occasions, after eleven years of service (1973-1984) she received permission from Mother Teresa to leave the order. As she did so, she didn’t doubt the wisdom of leaving, but the transition to a life of freedom was difficult for her. It was also difficult for those she had shared her life with. Even though “friendship” was discouraged, one could not help but to develop a sense of deep connection and dependence, and some in the community felt abandoned by her. Years later, as she would return to visit, she would be asked why she had left. Mother Teresa, even though she had granted the dispensation, continued for some time to push her toward returning, suggesting that it was a demonic spirit that had pushed her outside the community.
She would in time leave the order, and nearly thirty years old, go back to school and pursue that long delayed medical degree. What is interesting in this story is that while she left the order, she quickly pursued a life of service – just outside the confines of a Catholic religious order. She took jobs in the Outback, in rural areas of Australia, serving the Aboriginal communities. One of her earliest jobs with Air Medical Service, with which she served a far-flung practice, flying into remote areas to provide medical care to small outlying communities in the Northern Territories. Later she would her a call to go to East Timor, after that nation’s independence from Indonesian rule. Again she served among the poor and the indigent. Though no longer part of a Catholic order, she served with sisters from the Maryknoll order.
Finally after years of service, often with few breaks as a MC sister, the crushing nature of the order’s insistence on obedience, and continued service among the poor, was too much and she returned to Australia. There she took up a private medical practice, doing the kinds of things she had never had time to do – like deliver babies or treat the common cold. While she had continued to be a practicing Catholic, especially during her time in Katherine, Australia, long after leaving the order, in time the questions that had emerged over the years caught up with her and she first stopped attending church and then over time lost a sense of faith.
She would come to see herself as an agnostic. She can’t say for sure that there is no God or no afterlife, but these categories no longer have meaning for her. The Tsunami of 2004 was the final straw, after which she could no longer keep faith in a compassionate and just God. She had also seen too many contradictions between the teachings of the faith and its practice. As a MC she had watched as some of her colleagues in ministry were self-absorbed, angry, and bitter, and acted out of that bitterness in ways that disrespected their sisters and those they were called to serve. She also found strangely disconcerting a gospel that honored the ideal of “poverty and service to the poor but act[ed] in a way that seemed to contradict it” (p. 240).
She makes it clear that whatever her experiences, and whatever the oppressive and violent expressions that religion can take, she also recognizes that religion is not all bad. Faith may no longer work for her, but she respects the work and faith of others. She has no time for Richard Dawkins, questioning whether absence of religion would really make the world a better place. As for Mother Teresa, she notes a certain sense of vindication in the release of letters where Mother Teresa expressed her own doubts and her own sense of emptiness. But Mother Teresa could not live without being a believer, “the alternative was unthinkable. It was the essence of herself and her work to profess faith in God and the Catholic Church” (pp. 226-227). There was no other alternative. But in the end, there was one for the former Sister Tobit. She could find a sense of hope without the promise of resurrection and an afterlife.
Livermore, although she had left the Catholic Church by that time, did attend the beatification service – she even spent time with some of her former colleagues. After leaving the church and the order, she developed a mixed view of her guiding light and spiritual mentor from afar. She writes of Mother Teresa:
And about the order itself, she speaks of a deep paradox, but also lessons learned:
Colette Livermore tells the story of a journey from faith away from faith. As a person of faith, it is a difficult story to take in. I want to retain her for the church, but that’s not my place. The things that she learned, however, are worth considering. I too have had my doubts and asked my questions. I too find no value in anti-intellectualism and blind obedience. I have asked my own questions, indeed, I’ve had my own doubts. I have remained part of the faith community. I’ve retained my faith in God. But I can understand how her own experience of oppression could lead her in a different direction. I’m saddened by her departure faith, but I find the title a helpful one. She may no longer have faith as religion might define it, but the last words of the book are “Yet hope endures.” Indeed, while the book offers a striking criticism of aspects of religious life, but it is not an abandonment of hope. While she stepped away from religious life, she retained her sense of respect for Mother Teresa (despite serious differences and reservations) and she retains her sense of compassion. Thus, this is a book worth reading and considering carefully and faithfully.
Mother Teresa of Calcutta is one of the most revered religious figures of the past century. Whether Christian or not, one cannot help but appreciate her commitment to the poor and marginalized of society, giving of herself to care for the lepers and indigent of Calcutta. Her ministry inspired hundreds of other women and men to join her Missionaries of Charity, serving around the world. In 2003 Pope John Paul II furthered that reverence for that work by fast tracking her path toward sainthood by having her beatified in Rome on October 19, 2003. Like many I too have found inspiration and encouragement in her story and in her work. She was and is an exemplar of Christian service, a model for all followers of Jesus.
That witness and fierce commitment to the poor inspired a young Australian woman more than 35 years ago to take up the cause and become a Missionary of Charity, leaving behind a comfortable life in Australia to live among and serve the poor in places like Manila, Papua New Guinea, and Calcutta. Hope Endures is the autobiographical story of Dr. Colette Livermore, now a medical doctor in Australia, but for eleven years a Catholic nun who ultimately left the order, having experienced not only the light but the darkness of faith. It is also the story, unfortunately, of a journey from faith away from faith.
Every story is unique, and Dr. Livermore would be the first to admit that hers is not the only possible story about Mother Teresa and her movement. Indeed, while in the course of her time as a member of the order she grew disillusioned, she never lost her ultimate respect for Mother Teresa’s vision. It was, instead, the methods and the unwillingness to admit doubt or give opportunity for others to express their doubts, concerns, and visions.
Livermore was the product of a Catholic upbringing, indeed one of her uncles was a Franciscan, though her maternal grandfather was Methodist and not Catholic. A good student at Catholic schools, she planned on attending medical school. Indeed her first inclination was to become a doctor and use that training to serve others, but ultimately she heard a call as a young high school student to join up with the Missionaries of Charity after watching Malcolm Muggeridge’s film Something Beautiful for God. She writes:
“The idea of compassionate, practical service to the poor captivated me. From the time I saw that film, the whole direction of my life changed. I had been striving since junior high school to be accepted into medicine at a Sydney university. But on the eve of my looming exams, I decided that I didn’t need to waste time becoming a doctor. It seemed very simple: people needed food more than complex medical care.” (p. 15).
In time, Livermore would come to a different view. The path that Mother Teresa offered was a direct one. Don’t waste time preparing to serve, just follow Jesus and go into the world. And so she did.
She followed her calling, and joined the order, moving through the various steps toward final vows. In her new life, she ceased being Colette Livermore, and became Sister Tobit. From the very beginning, while she gave herself completely to her calling, there were signs of unease. What she found in Mother Teresa’s movement was an old-fashioned form of Catholicism, one that was pre-Vatican II. It was severe and traditional. While other religious orders were giving up the habit and embracing “civilian” clothing, this order embraced a most distinctive garb. In time, it would not be the garb or even the penitential disciplines that would disillusion Livermore, instead it was the demand that she give total and unyielding obedience to those above her. A superior could be in the wrong, but could not be confronted. No dissent could be brooked. If one ended up being mistreated, that should be prayerfully endured, for had not Jesus done the same? Doubt and questioning of authority was seen as demonic. Although it was a message of compassion that had drawn her to Mother Teresa and the Sisters, she would discover that obedience had a primacy over all other things, including compassion.
It was not only the blind obedience that would ultimately disturb this committed person of faith, but it was also the pronounced anti-intellectualism of this movement. That very message of immediacy that drew her to the movement, and led her to abandon her pursuit of medical studies, would in time haunt her. Mother Teresa believed strongly that the weak and the ignorant had more value than the one with expertise. Thus, while this movement devoted itself to the needs of the poor and hurting it often did so without the benefit of modern medicine.
The continued emphasis on obedience and the anti-intellectualism that she experienced continued to gnaw on her. She was continually finding herself on the wrong side of things. She would be told that her problem was pride, and that she thought she knew more or was more compassionate than her colleagues and her superiors. But she couldn’t understand why teatime took precedence over caring for the sick and the hungry. She couldn’t understand why, when money was relatively available, they were sent out to beg or they had to make due without proper medicines and preparation. It wasn’t the personal deprivations that bothered her. Indeed, later she would discover the wisdom of living as the poor among the poor, but the contradictions were too stark.
One could say that this is the story of a round peg trying to fit into a square hole. She had heard a call, but her experiences of living in this community offered too much dissonance to her spirit. Ultimately, after seeking permission to leave the order on a number of occasions, after eleven years of service (1973-1984) she received permission from Mother Teresa to leave the order. As she did so, she didn’t doubt the wisdom of leaving, but the transition to a life of freedom was difficult for her. It was also difficult for those she had shared her life with. Even though “friendship” was discouraged, one could not help but to develop a sense of deep connection and dependence, and some in the community felt abandoned by her. Years later, as she would return to visit, she would be asked why she had left. Mother Teresa, even though she had granted the dispensation, continued for some time to push her toward returning, suggesting that it was a demonic spirit that had pushed her outside the community.
She would in time leave the order, and nearly thirty years old, go back to school and pursue that long delayed medical degree. What is interesting in this story is that while she left the order, she quickly pursued a life of service – just outside the confines of a Catholic religious order. She took jobs in the Outback, in rural areas of Australia, serving the Aboriginal communities. One of her earliest jobs with Air Medical Service, with which she served a far-flung practice, flying into remote areas to provide medical care to small outlying communities in the Northern Territories. Later she would her a call to go to East Timor, after that nation’s independence from Indonesian rule. Again she served among the poor and the indigent. Though no longer part of a Catholic order, she served with sisters from the Maryknoll order.
Finally after years of service, often with few breaks as a MC sister, the crushing nature of the order’s insistence on obedience, and continued service among the poor, was too much and she returned to Australia. There she took up a private medical practice, doing the kinds of things she had never had time to do – like deliver babies or treat the common cold. While she had continued to be a practicing Catholic, especially during her time in Katherine, Australia, long after leaving the order, in time the questions that had emerged over the years caught up with her and she first stopped attending church and then over time lost a sense of faith.
She would come to see herself as an agnostic. She can’t say for sure that there is no God or no afterlife, but these categories no longer have meaning for her. The Tsunami of 2004 was the final straw, after which she could no longer keep faith in a compassionate and just God. She had also seen too many contradictions between the teachings of the faith and its practice. As a MC she had watched as some of her colleagues in ministry were self-absorbed, angry, and bitter, and acted out of that bitterness in ways that disrespected their sisters and those they were called to serve. She also found strangely disconcerting a gospel that honored the ideal of “poverty and service to the poor but act[ed] in a way that seemed to contradict it” (p. 240).
She makes it clear that whatever her experiences, and whatever the oppressive and violent expressions that religion can take, she also recognizes that religion is not all bad. Faith may no longer work for her, but she respects the work and faith of others. She has no time for Richard Dawkins, questioning whether absence of religion would really make the world a better place. As for Mother Teresa, she notes a certain sense of vindication in the release of letters where Mother Teresa expressed her own doubts and her own sense of emptiness. But Mother Teresa could not live without being a believer, “the alternative was unthinkable. It was the essence of herself and her work to profess faith in God and the Catholic Church” (pp. 226-227). There was no other alternative. But in the end, there was one for the former Sister Tobit. She could find a sense of hope without the promise of resurrection and an afterlife.
Livermore, although she had left the Catholic Church by that time, did attend the beatification service – she even spent time with some of her former colleagues. After leaving the church and the order, she developed a mixed view of her guiding light and spiritual mentor from afar. She writes of Mother Teresa:
“The traditional Catholic beliefs and spirituality that Mother inherited were both her strength and her weakness. Although she was a visionary, tradition blinded her in some areas. Some women have been harmed by trying to follow her and have left the order confused and disillusioned. Others struggled to remain true to what they believed God was asking of them. For some this fidelity came at great personal cost” (p. 242).
And about the order itself, she speaks of a deep paradox, but also lessons learned:
“Courageous compassion was a cover for an organization that demanded blind submission and suppression of the intellect. From my time with her I learned that I need to test all ideas, including the values inherited from the culture of my birth, and to question the prevailing mores and prejudices that pervade any society. Goodness is not served by acquiescence but by being courageously true to yourself” (p. 243).Hope Endures is a disturbing book and yet hopeful book. Yes, it is a strong critique of a movement held in deep regard. Some might see it as an attack on the church or simply the rantings of a disgruntled former member of the order. That would be a mistake. It isn’t an attack, but it is a strong critique of the church. She is disillusioned, but her critique can’t be described as rantings or ascribed to being disgruntled. She has brought to the surface the dark side of something we hold dear. It’s not easy to hear, but often we need to hear it. Although we’re not always open to the suggestion, even movements of compassion and light can have a dark side. Of course, as I read her story, I can’t help but wonder what might have been? What if she had joined another order, one that granted more freedom of thought, one that didn’t focus so strongly on blind obedience? I wonder if she had come to faith in more progressive/liberal context, where might she be? Those are, of course, not the kinds of questions we can provide answers for, because that’s not the journey that she took.
Colette Livermore tells the story of a journey from faith away from faith. As a person of faith, it is a difficult story to take in. I want to retain her for the church, but that’s not my place. The things that she learned, however, are worth considering. I too have had my doubts and asked my questions. I too find no value in anti-intellectualism and blind obedience. I have asked my own questions, indeed, I’ve had my own doubts. I have remained part of the faith community. I’ve retained my faith in God. But I can understand how her own experience of oppression could lead her in a different direction. I’m saddened by her departure faith, but I find the title a helpful one. She may no longer have faith as religion might define it, but the last words of the book are “Yet hope endures.” Indeed, while the book offers a striking criticism of aspects of religious life, but it is not an abandonment of hope. While she stepped away from religious life, she retained her sense of respect for Mother Teresa (despite serious differences and reservations) and she retains her sense of compassion. Thus, this is a book worth reading and considering carefully and faithfully.
Comments
Thank you for such a wonderful and detailed review of this book. I am almost finished reading it. You wonder if things would be different if she had joined another order, one with more freedom. I don't believe this would have been a serious option for Dr. Livermore because I believe from the beginning, it was not a desire to serve God but I desire to serve the poor. She joined, as she said because of "practical compassionate service to the poor." I have read other stories about the religious (nuns and sisters) and there was always something along the lines of "I feel in love with Jesus, or I wanted to serve God above all things." She never seemed to have that need for God, that intense love or hunger for God that so many successful religious seem to have, at least when they first enter religious life. Sorry for such a long comment! God Bless..
Thanks for the comments. It's been a while since I read the book, but my sense was that the desire to serve the poor, as you note, was preeminent.
While the faith component may not have been preeminent, I do think she had a strong faith also. But the stress of serving wore down that faith. Remember too that Mother Teresa also experienced much the same sense of loss of faith.
In the end, I do believe that this was not a good place for her to be, but once in, it was difficult to step out of the situation.