(Photo credit: Hanaa Soliman)
My grandmother sat in the school refectory sipping hot chicory while eyeing the piece of chocolate she was about to give away. Like many of her classmates, she’d decided to slip it into the food donation box. Enter Father Maurice Zundel, Catholic priest and mystic, whom she loved and respected. More than seventy years later, my grandmother’s face still lit up every time she recounted his words: “…and then he said: If you give away the chocolate joyfully, then so be it. But if you do so begrudgingly, then God would prefer that you eat it, enjoy it and give thanks for it.”
Since I was a child, these words accompanied me like a talisman. They were a compass of sorts, pointing at a kind of sanity that seemed to be lacking in the world I navigated. At different times in my life, however, even though spirituality remained a core orientation for me, the word “God” became a source of anger, confusion and irritation. It was hard to keep track of all the ways I’d experienced religion and the word “God” being used in damaging and/or manipulative ways. One of the most important shifts in that process, however, happened when I finally heard the terms “religious trauma” and “spiritual trauma” and started to approach my experience from that perspective. Many gifts of clarity and self-compassion started flowing from there, along with a tremendous appreciation for those who invite us back into a genuine and inclusive conversation around this very loaded topic.
I’ve recently stumbled upon a beautiful exchange between podcast host Dan Harris and Father Greg Boyle, Jesuit priest and mystic. I believe it holds a lot of healing potential for the world we live in:
Dan Harris: “As somebody who’s an open-minded agnostic, (…) I don’t use the word God much, if ever. What would be another word that would rhyme with what you’re saying, so we can have this conversation (…) on linguistic grounds that we can both agree on? Would it be the Universe? The Mystery? Or does it really have to be God?”
Greg Boyle: “I think (it’s) what sustains you. Wherever you find your center and where you find yourself grounded. However you talk about that (…). The sustaining spirit. The ground of being. Anything. And again, I don’t do any kind of god that, you know, has a white beard and is male. (…) So, whatever you return to is the sustaining spirit, is the core of your being. (…) I always appreciate in you your sense of practice. That you return in your practice to the ground so you can be freshly grounded; so you can be, every day, returned to the core. That sustains you, that allows you to receive people, that allows your heart to be altered by people. Otherwise, you’re full speed ahead and you’ve lost your grounding. (…) I’m a Jesuit priest and I’m a Catholic, I’m a OK with saying God as shorthand. It’s shorthand for, I think, what we all hope for, which is the core of our being. The thing you return to in your practice as a touchstone that allows you to have this intentionality in your life where you can say: I’m about to receive somebody in my presence and I’m gonna allow this person to reach me, and I’m going to listen, and I’m going to love. Whatever allows you to live from that place is your God, is your higher power, is your sustaining spirit. (…)”
Dan Harris: “(…) That’s a version of God I can get behind.”
Father Boyle’s words deeply resonate with me too. These days, what word a person uses as “shorthand” for their “version of God” doesn’t seem to matter to me anymore, I just feel a tender appreciation for what we’re all trying to point at. And I am so thankful to my friends, family, clients, teachers and communities for teaching me some of the many languages in which we speak of “the core of our being”. I also remain utterly grateful to my grandmother who taught me very early on that Essence, God, the Divine, whatever we choose to call it, was never out to get me, and was never after my chocolate!
(To watch the full interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62tJNPEbOHE)