The typical discourse from mystics and saints surrounding their relationship with God, the Divine, Source, whatever name they have for it, is one of unconditional love, deep devotion, and reverence. Hafiz, Rumi, and the rest wax poetic about dancing mad in the streets with a love like they’ve never felt before. You know what’s far less common? Unbridled hatred.
People don’t usually talk about how they’re so mad at God that their skin flushes red and curse words spill from their mouths. They don’t talk about their bellies burning with hatred so intense that if God were to coalesce into one person, they should be scared to walk into a dark alley at night because God would be beaten into a bloody pulp.
Perhaps some people worry that if they hate God, they’ll be struck down by lightning like in the Old Testament. For others, maybe they’re scared if they hate God, they’ll be abandoned and their lives will become unlivable.
I know fire is more associated with anger but I think it fits with hatred too. Photo by Cullan Smith on Unsplash
I don’t fall into that camp and neither does my spiritual teacher. He’s very clear that hatred of others is a kind of psychic bondage and must be opposed through reasoning and intellect. Hatred of people? A no-no. Hatred of God? Totally allowed.
In the ancient Hindu epic, the Ramayana, there’s a Very Bad Man named Ravana. He’s like the ultimate sinner, the ultimate evil-doer, but once he dies, he attains liberation and no longer has to reincarnate. He’s free from all bondages and merges with the Cosmic Consciousness. How could that be so? Here’s a long passage from my spiritual teacher about why:
“On whom was Ravana always meditating? Who was he always thinking about? Remember that Ravana was thinking about Rama [a Hindu deity] twenty-four hours a day. People generally think about their enemies more than they do about those whom they love. Suppose you have a bitter quarrel with someone. When you sit down to eat later on, you will find that you don’t feel like eating. The image of your enemy will come up again and again in your mind. And you will be thinking: ‘I should have hit him a couple of good ones!’ On that day, you will have no appetite at all. If you have love and affection for anyone, you will have a good appetite, but if you have enmity with anyone, you will have no appetite at all. Because on that day, your mind will be fully occupied with thoughts of your enemy.
“Now, what was the state of Ravanaʼs mind prior to his fight with Rama? He was thinking only of Rama, discarding all other thoughts. His kingdom was lost, the happy and prosperous Lanka was burnt to ashes, and all of his sons and grandsons had been killed. Everything was finished. Yet even then, Ravana went on fighting Rama, thinking all the time only of Rama. The scriptures say: ‘With reverence or with indifference.’ If you think about [Cosmic Consciousness] with reverence, that is good; but if you think about Him with disdain, your mind will be the same as if you are thinking about Him with reverence. You will be continuously revolving around [Cosmic Consciousness].”
In other words, it doesn’t matter if you love God or hate God. As long as you’re thinking of Him/Her/It, you’ll still progress spiritually. I appreciate that perspective because it gives me full permission to feel whatever I feel in my relationship with the divine. I don’t have to worry that I’m a “bad” person or going to hell or deserve judgment. I’m being authentic, and that, too, will lead me where I want to go.
I dream of a world where we understand all of our emotions are allowed in our relationship with the divine. A world where we don’t censor ourselves for fear of something bad happening. A world where we recognize hating God doesn’t make us bad people because it, too, will lead to liberation.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.
I’ve been struggling a lot this week with “not enough” syndrome. I don’t feel like I’m doing enough in the world, that I’m not helping others according to my capacity, and furthermore, what work I am doing, I pooh pooh as insignificant.
As you know, my skill and talent is writing, but when I look around at me at all the work that needs to be done in the world, it feels like being a writer is useless. I’m not a policymaker or a politician or a doctor. I’m not doing anything concrete to end poverty, for instance, and I hate it.
I spoke with a friend about all this and he reminded me the gifts I’ve been given are gifts. I have them for a reason and it’s important to use what I have. So no, I’m not a doctor or a politician or social worker, and that’s OK. We all have a part to play to contribute to the whole.
Some people are squirrels and some people are monkeys: both are OK.
I’m reminded of the Indian epic the Rámáyańa, but there are stories like it all over sacred texts. During construction of a bridge, the big monkeys carried large stones while the small squirrels brought only tiny grains of sand. My spiritual teacher says, “Is there any difference between the carrying of tiny grains of sand by the squirrels on the one hand and the carrying of a whole mountain by [the God] Hanumán on the other? Both are equally valuable. You may be a small entity like a squirrel, but your existence is in no way insignificant.”
I think I need to tattoo that to my face. I get so caught up in the comparison game, often called “compare and despair” by my recovery friends. I compare myself to what other people are doing and always come up short. I am the squirrel looking at the monkeys saying, “Look at the big rocks they’re carrying! Ugh. I wish I could carry big rocks.” I’m not honoring my contribution of small grains of sand and that’s what’s important – not how large my contribution is, but whether I’m contributing at all. It’s so hard for me to say that because, as I said earlier, I suffer from “not enough syndrome.” I feel like I could be contributing more, and maybe that’s true, but in the moment, my capacity is not all that large. My health isn’t amazing, so no, I can’t do as much as I could before, but maybe that’s OK.
What I’m getting at here, what I’m trying to convince myself of really, is that the important thing is I’m doing something at all. Am I working to my capacity? If so, then I can let myself off the hook for not carrying the big rocks. Because again, a squirrel is just as important as a monkey in the construction of a bridge.
I dream of a world where we work according to our capacity. A world where we understand it’s not important whether we’re contributing a little bit or a large bit, what matters is that we’re contributing at all.
Another world is not only possible, it’s probable.