What Matters More Than Words
Spiritual exemplars are imperfect, just like everyone else
One of the challenges of studying the spiritual tradition of Christianity (or indeed of any wisdom tradition) is recognizing that not all saints or mystics necessarily reach the same level of spiritual maturity. A person can exhibit profound insight and wisdom in one area of their life, and yet appear to be far less evolved in other ways. This is probably true of all of us, even of the greatest saints — and yet the differences can seem more dramatic in some than in others.
A good example of this is Maximilian Kolbe, the Polish Franciscan friar who died in a Nazi death camp after volunteering to take the place of a stranger in Auschwitz. This sacrificial act not only made him a modern martyr — the “martyr of charity” as Pope Paul VI described him when he was beatified — but also became the defining moment of his too-short life. Pope John Paul II canonized him in 1982, making him one of the first modern Polish saints.
Unfortunately, the luminous witness of his supreme sacrifice is paired with a kind of theological writing that is far less inspiring. Like his contemporary (and fellow Polish saint and mystic) Maria Faustina Kowalska, his way of describing his spiritual worldview comes across as harsh and almost dualistic. Rather than celebrating the infinite love of God, he focuses on the problem of sin, the threat of Satan, and an almost naive rejection of modern science (he heaps particular scorn on the theory of evolution). Much of this is no doubt cultural: St. Maximilian died twenty years before the Second Vatican Council, so his language and theology are much more shaped by traditionalist Catholic theology, not to mention the harsh realities of Europe during Nazism. My honest assessment is that he could have easily been little more than a footnote in the history of 20th-century European theology — if not for the truly heroic way his life ended.
And perhaps it is fitting that the martyr of charity is known for this observation:
A person is great and becomes a witness and a teacher, capable of leaving an authentic message to the world, not so much on account of what one says or writes, but for what one is and what one achieves. What one says or writes deserves attention only insomuch as it is an expression of what one is or does.1
In other words, the flaws and limitations of St. Maximilian’s theological and spiritual writings are not nearly as important as the profound heroism and beauty of his final act of caring for another human being. That’s what we are meant to remember of him.
I do not mean to anger or offend the many people who find Kolbe’s life and witness meaningful and inspiring. Many mystics and saints cast a shadow, some longer than others. The point here is not to look for reasons to “cancel” or dismiss the mystics for their inevitable hypocrisy. Rather, may we find in the mistakes, limitations, and cultural blind spots of even our most revered spiritual heroes a reminder that we are all wounded and imperfect — all of us, without exception. This means that divine grace, or mystical transformation, is not reserved only for the especially holy, pious, or advanced — it’s meant for everyone, for all who wish to receive the felicity of divine love.
Maximilian Maria Kolbe, The Writings of St. Maximilian Maria Kolbe, Volume I: Letters. Nerbini International. Kindle Edition.