More Jesus at the National Prayer Breakfast
In 1994, it was Mother Teresa. She changed my life.
Andrew DeCort’s address at this year’s National Prayer Breakfast echoed another prophetic word I heard the first time I went, in 1994. It was both the worst and the most powerful speech I’ve ever heard, a speech that literally changed my life. I wrote about it over 20 years ago, the account follows below.
(A photo in my home study of the event in 1994, see Bill Clinton in the background. Thanks to dear friends for this precious gift!)
Early in the morning on the first Thursday of every February of each new year, a remarkable group of people gathers in the ballroom of a large hotel in Washington, DC. Perhaps only a joint meeting of the United Nations holds at one time such an internationally diverse concentration of men and women who have attained the highest political levels in their respective lands. There probably is no other gathering where such a large number of men and women with national and global influence from every sector of society sit in the same room at the same time. Over the breakfast table it would not be uncommon to be seated with a United States congressman, the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, a supreme court judge from Bangladesh, the minister for prisons in all of Peru, the spokesman for the Dalai Lama from Tibet, the head of an internationally known religious non-profit ministry, an Ivy League college student, and even perhaps a person who two years prior had been homeless.
What is also remarkable about this event is that few people even know that it’s happening or that it even occurred. Even though a large banquet room is filled with people whose faces are easily recognizable from their images in newspapers and magazines, those faces rarely appear in the news the next morning after the gathering. Most of the news press is not allowed inside, and for the most part the press that is allowed in honors the wishes of the organizers to maintain the integrity of the purpose of the meeting.
These men and women have not gathered to discuss politics or a new strategy to influence certain policies. They have not come to discuss new business deals or learn a new organizational tool. They have not come to present their ideas in their field of expertise or further their career.
They have come to pray. From all over the country they have come to pray for the President of the United States, from all over the world they have come to pray for God’s wisdom for the many political leaders who are present, and they’ve come to pray that God’s peace would reign. The people who have orchestrated this event invite people to come in the spirit of Jesus of Nazareth, and for many it is the first introduction to Jesus that is neither associated with a religious institution or a political viewpoint. The name of Jesus is lifted up, and many people are drawn one step closer to him.
I had barely even heard of the National Prayer Breakfast when the opportunity came to go in 1994 during my last year of seminary. The chance came at the invitation of Leighton Ford, Billy Graham’s brother-in-law and fill-in speaker for him at the many crusades for over thirty years. I was in the Arrow Leadership Program, Leighton’s leadership development ministry, and part of the program was just to hang out with him.
He’s a beautiful man in all ways. Tall and thin with a gentle face and piercing blue eyes, Leighton has the remarkable ability to be completely present with whoever it is that he’s with and listen long to them. And when he speaks, his words are wise, carried along by a slight North Carolina accent. Despite his profoundly influential ministry over the years, Leighton seems not to care at all who he is, or who he knows, or how many people know him. He’s a humble man, and such men are rare, especially in the world of the successful preachers.
He’s so humble, in fact, he wanted to go to the National Prayer Breakfast not with some likewise notable figure, but with me, and Ken Shigematsu, a friend from seminary who was also in the Arrow Program. That’s how Leighton discipled people, by spending time with them. If that time could be spent sharing an experience like the National Prayer Breakfast, all the better.
As we sat at the breakfast table, that “Washington” feeling hung thickly in the air. They call it “Potomac Fever”, the buzz of power that vibrates throughout this city. Somehow, being around ‘important’ people makes you feel a little more important yourself, at least you wanted others to know how important you were, however small your sphere of influence. But in this gathering, there was no point in a person like me trying to impress anyone. But I still liked feeling the buzz.
For the first time in my life, I felt the temptation for power. I was well familiar with the temptation to sex, and that heart pounding thrill that came when an opportunity to indulge my flesh presented itself. And the “high” that came from being surrounded by all these powerful people in the most powerful city in the world was not too different.
And there was a lot of power buzzing. Among the couple of thousand people gathered were dozens of senators and congressmen and women from the US and elected officials from many of the various states. From around the world there were countless prime ministers, presidents, parliamentarians, judges, and other political and military leaders, many with their secret service close at hand.
Just to the right of the speaker’s podium at the head table at the front of the ballroom sat Bill and Hilary Clinton, the President of the United States and the First Lady. To the left of the podium sat Vice President Al Gore and his wife, Tipper. As he had been at almost every National Prayer Breakfast for the last fifty years, Billy Graham was present at the head table as well.
One person was notably absent from the head table. In fact, she was absent from the room. We had heard earlier that Mother Teresa was to speak to the gathering, but she was no where to be seen.
A short prayer for the food was offered, and everyone ate, simply because there was food in front of us to eat, and we ate quickly. Food was the least thing on everyone’s mind that morning. We were all interested to hear what the President and Vice President had to say, and Mother Teresa’s name was indeed on the program. But was she actually there? We’d have to wait and see.
As the President took the podium, we all rose in a traditional standing ovation with obligatory applause. Between this ovation and the expected ovation given when he had entered the room, this was the second and the last. In fact, I remember little of what Bill Clinton and Al Gore said that morning. But I remember their jokes.
The President began, “When I looked on the program this morning and saw that Mother Teresa would be speaking, I remembered the story of one of Michael Jordan’s teammates. It was after the game when Jordan had scored 69 points, and it was blowout. The other player had been put in late in the game and had scored one free throw. Afterwards he was being interviewed about what it was like to be on the floor with Michael Jordan that night. He said, “Well, I’ll never forget the game where Michael Jordan and I scored 70 points together.”
The audience roared. It was a suitably humble comment, and hilarious. Bill Clinton’s renowned charisma was on in full force. Even from a distance, it was hard not to simply like this man.
Al Gore, for his reputation of being a bland communicator, finished after Mother Teresa with his own well-chosen basketball metaphor. “The President talked about a basketball game, and right now I feel like my team is twenty five points ahead with three seconds left on the clock, the inbound pass comes to me and all I have to do is hold on to the ball!” We laughed again. He was right on.
I remember the jokes of the President and Vice President of the United States.
Mother Teresa’s words changed my life.
She had neither stayed at the Washington Hilton, nor had eaten at the head table. She had slept the night before at one of the Missionary of Charity houses nearby, and had her simple breakfast in another room with some of the sisters. She wasn’t even present to hear her own introduction. Rather, when the introduction was finished, the curtains behind the head table started to ripple, and they did so for what seemed like minutes. She couldn’t find the opening to come to the podium. But as soon as she emerged through the curtain, she was given a standing ovation. Not only was it longer and more thunderous than the ovation for the President, it was only the first of many.
This old woman, standing not even five feet tall, stepped up to the podium, and disappeared. We couldn’t see her, and she couldn’t see anything at all as the podium at the head table was taller than she was. Quickly a box was placed under her feet, and she climbed up on it, but still she was hard to see. Only the top of her head, covered by the famous saris of the Missionaries of Charity, pure white cotton with blue borders, could be seen. That was the first rule of public speaking that she broke.
I studied communication in college, and took preaching courses in seminary, and knew what makes for a good presentation. Mother Teresa did none of it.
First, of all, we couldn’t see her face and she made no eye contact.
Her Eastern European combined with an Indian accent thickly covered her English, which was hardly her native tongue.
She read her comments from a manuscript, barely pausing for emphasis and never looking up from her printed pages.
And the pages of that manuscript were stuck together, so that she had to rip them apart every time she turned a page. Since the microphone had been bent at an acute angle downwards to pick up her voice, we heard seemingly every letter being ripped apart from the page underneath it. And every time she had to do this, she hit the microphone with her hand, sending a sharp crack that sounded like a gunshot reverberating through the room.
She began her comments with a request that we would all repeat the Prayer of St. Francis together, “Lord, make me an instrument of Thy peace” and so on. But her version and the one we had in our programs were different versions. She read hers straight through, her voice amplified through the sound system and competing with the raucous babble of a couple of thousand people trying in vain to stay together and follow along. Hardly a word made sense for two minutes of madness. This level of chaos in this kind of setting was surreal, and that was the tone that was set by her opening words.
So, surrounded by the most powerful people in the world, with the President of the United States two feet to her right and the Vice President two feet to her left, Mother Teresa gave an awful delivery of her speech.
And it was the most powerful speech I’ve ever heard and probably ever will.
She began by speaking for the first of many times of our Christian call to love each other, and especially the poor.
“Let us thank God for the opportunity He has given us today to have come here to pray together. We have come here especially to pray for peace, joy and love. We are reminded that Jesus came to bring the good news to the poor. He had told us what is that good news when He said: "My peace I leave with you, My peace I give unto you." He came not to give the peace of the world which is only that we don't bother each other. He came to give the peace of heart which comes from loving - from doing good to others.”
Her many reminders our call to love each other by doing good for each other were not the words, however, that quieted the room . This little woman, standing right next to the physical and political giant of a man, Bill Clinton, who had strongly supported the legality of abortion from the first day of his presidency, spoke with an almost inspired boldness. “I feel that the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a war against the child, a direct killing of the innocent child, murder by the mother herself. And if we accept that a mother can kill even her own child, how can we tell other people not to kill one another?” The ballroom was absolutely silent, less from her words, I think, and more from the obvious challenge this was to the President. You could hear people breathing, and waiting to hear what came next.
She went on to say that she had heard that one of the reasons for abortion in America was because there were so many unwanted children.
“Give the children to me,” she said, “I will take them and our sisters will take care of them.” No one doubted that she meant it and that the offer was good. Her life and work validated her offer. “I am willing to accept any child who would be aborted and to give that child to a married couple who will love the child and be loved by the child. From our children's home in Calcutta alone, we have saved over 3000 children from abortion. These children have brought such love and joy to their adopting parents and have grown up so full of love and joy.”
In effect she said, “Now, there are no unwanted children in America. I want them.”
Every one of us gathered rose to our feet with almost ecstatic applause and agreement. We clapped on and on, partly for the words that she spoke, and partly just in sheer admiration of this midget of a woman who had such mighty words. The only four people in the room who didn’t stand were seated at the head table, on either side of the little woman reading her notes.
In a room filled with people who have all the power that the world can give, Mother Teresa, a tiny Albanian nun who had made her home among the poorest of the poor in Calcutta, was by far the most powerful person in the room. By far. Her moral authority outweighed any authority granted by political office or professional accomplishment. Her life lived of faithfully loving the poor for over fifty years, the first half in utter obscurity, gave her a gravitas that cannot be conferred by this world.
It was said of Bill Clinton that Christian leaders who met with him, men who thought themselves mighty prophets of God sent to deliver his word to the President, turned into mice in his presence. Mother Teresa didn’t care whose presence she was in. She knew what she believed and was going to say it. And say it she did. I’m not even sure she knew who was in the audience, and even if she did, I don’t think it would have changed a word or a tone in her speech that day. She just was who she was, in all her miraculous self.
But it wasn’t Mother Teresa’s words about abortion that day that I remember the most or hit me the hardest. I remember she once made a comment she made about the poor.
“People ask me, ‘how have you been able to love the poorest of the poor for so long?’ I don’t understand the question. I’m just loving my Husband.”
In all my years in Wheaton, in church, and even in seminary, I had not heard that many sermons, discussions, or teachings about the poor. And if I had, it was usually couched in terms of “should” or “ought”, as in, ‘we should love the poor, we ought to feed the homeless’. But she was saying something very different.
Mother Teresa was talking about a deeply intimate relationship with Jesus that came by loving the poor, because somehow he is radically present in the poor. I had heard Matthew 25.34-40 before. When she quoted the words of Jesus, they came alive.
`Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.' Then the righteous will answer him, `Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?' The King will reply, `I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
She had understood these words of Jesus, and for Mother Teresa loving the poor was like having a love that you’d find in the best marriage, as if your spouse was Jesus himself. Of course, knowing Jesus as her Husband was the fire that fueled her work. She shared that morning, “Because I talk so much of giving with a smile, once a professor from the United States asked me: "Are you married?" And I said: "Yes, and I find it sometimes very difficult to smile at my spouse, Jesus, because He can be very demanding—sometimes."
For the first time, I heard about the loving the poor not as something that good people do, but it was something that people did who wanted to live life to the fullest in a love relationship with Jesus. Loving the poor, I heard, was not about social obligation, it was a devotional practice that led to true life and the love of God. “We are not social workers,” she said. “We may be doing social work in the eyes of some people, but we must be contemplatives in the heart of the world.”
[NB 2025: This was the first time I remember hearing the word contemplative. I didn’t know that meant, and she made me want to find out.]
She also shared about how her life had been enriched by the poor, and some of the things she had learned from men and women whose lives had been spent in desperate poverty. Mother Teresa was fortunate enough to be with them in their death.
“Those who are materially poor can be very wonderful people. One evening we went out and we picked up four people from the street. And one of them was in a most terrible condition. I told the Sisters: ‘You take care of the other three; I will take care of the one who looks worse.’ So I did for her all that my love can do. I put her in bed, and there was such a beautiful smile on her face. She took hold of my hand, as she said one word only: ‘thank you’ - and she died.
“I could not help but examine my conscience before her. And I asked: ‘What would I say if I were in her place?’ And my answer was very simple. I would have tried to draw a little attention to myself. I would have said: ‘I am hungry, I am dying, I am cold, I am in pain,’ or something. But she gave me much more - she gave me her grateful love. And she died with a smile on her face. Then there was the man we picked up from the drain, half eaten by worms and, after we had brought him to the home, he only said, "I have lived like an animal in the street, but I am going to die as an angel, loved and cared for." Then, after we had removed all the worms from his body, all he said, with a big smile, was: ‘Sister, I am going home to God’- and he died. It was so wonderful to see the greatness of that man who could speak like that without blaming anybody, without comparing anything. Like an angel - this is the greatness of people who are spiritually rich even when they are materially poor.”
In all my life, I had never seen person like this small, old woman, who had more power than any one in the world, and who had a deeper intimacy with Jesus than I had experienced or even heard talked about. And all that came by giving her life to the poorest of the poor.
That February morning in the ballroom at the National Prayer Breakfast, I said to myself, “If I ever get the chance, I want to go see what she’s talking about. If it’s possible, I will go to Calcutta [Kolkata]” and made a commitment to do it if I could.
That chance came the following year in 1995, and I came to Calcutta to volunteer with the Missionaries of Charity at the the Home for the Dying. I met Mother Teresa briefly, and thanked her for her words at the National Prayer Breakfast.
“Glory to God! Glory to God!” was all she said, pressing a small medallion of Mary the Mother of Jesus into my hand.
Glory be to God indeed, for this, the smallest of women, the most powerful person I will ever meet.
Her challenge that day, and the ongoing legacy of her life, continues to en-courage me to face the challenges of the desperate poverty in the world and inspire me to love “the least of these”, in Calcutta today in 2003, and in Washington for the next ten years, or wherever God leads Tara and I in the world. Mother said,
“If we are contemplatives in the heart of the world with all its problems, these problems can never discourage us. We must always remember what God tells us in Scripture: "Even if a mother could forget the child in her womb" - something impossible, but even if she could forget – ‘I will never forget you.’ And so here I am talking with you. I want you to find the poor here, right in your own home first. And begin love there.”