Dear friend,

Your letter says you're thinking about how to deal with someone else's hatred. And you're finding, as I have, that this is no incidental task. Especially when the animosity is from a friend, or when you know you've done nothing to deserve it.

Maybe you're finding that the source of the problem is not really what you thought it was: someone else's thoughts, words, or actions. These can be issues, of course. But isn't the root issue our own willingness to believe that hatred is real, in the cosmic sense of that word? Isn't it our willingness to be manipulated against our own best interests and against the true, holy sense of things?

For me, feeling protected from hatred is connected with what I understand of the nature of the Supreme Being. As you know, for a long time I've had an intuitive sense of that Being as completely good. I remember the talk we had about the fact that many people say there is no such thing as a Supreme Being. Or, they insist this Being is both good and evil. Or, they say that even though this Being is good itself, it is opposed by, or permits, an evil presence. I understand what you mean when you say that these explanations of the nature of things make some sense when they explain what we see and experience in everyday life.

But, you know, as reasonable as those explanations seem on one level, to me they fall short on another level. They're like static on a cell phone—interfering with my intuitive sense of the presence of good. Those explanations make me feel vulnerable and apprehensive, as if I'm in the presence of an unseen danger. They contradict my deepest sense of things. But defining the Supreme Being in terms of pure goodness makes what I see as a simple demand on my honest reason: It means that I accept hatred as impossible in any form or person. That I rule it out. Expose it as unreal. A dream. A fiction.

I know there are sincere thinkers who describe this kind of reason as self-delusion. (Are you smiling?) But I find an extraordinary spiritual authority and calm in this kind of reason. It's an awareness of a reality beyond what we see in everyday life, beyond what is discernible through the senses. It's no delusion or fiction. In fact, it's more real, tangible, and permanent to me than the material world is. It makes me aware of a holy presence. Some call this spirituality. I can go with that. And, as a thing added: I've found over several decades that this spiritual authority has enabled me to heal others and myself with enough consistency to confirm, to my satisfaction at least, that this kind of reasoning is a way to connect with the Supreme Being.

Here's what I truly believe. That "the secret place of the most high" is not simply a shelter from some real hatred; it's a shelter from believing that anything exists other than good. Even those who appear to hate us—rightly seen, deeply seen—are spiritual creations of the Highest.

So, it makes sense to me that believing somebody hates us means that we are hating that person—because we'd be seeing that person as less than a creation of the Highest. To believe someone hates us is not only a comment about them, it's an indictment of our own judgment and character.

Here's another observation: I find that if I try to correct another person, to improve them to the point where they match my personal model of good, these attempts tend to confirm or even increase my belief that they are less than creations of the All-Good. And we even think this way when we know better. It reminds me of what St. Paul wrote: "The good that I would I do not: but the evil which I would not, that I do" (Rom 7:19).

All this doesn't mean that we necessarily have to stick around those who vilify us. It's not always kind to them. The Bible says Jesus passed through an angry mob. But I have an idea that while he was wise enough to avoid unnecessary attacks, he was also wise enough to disbelieve that the attacks were real in the universal sense. To him, I think, attacks in any form were more like dreams than realities. Like shadows, not substance. I think he even overcame his own crucifixion, which started out so horribly, reducing it to nothing. Otherwise, how could he have halted its intent to deprive the world of his message that God is truly good and all, and that each of us is His beloved child?

Well! You didn't exactly ask for all this. But you've been generous in sharing your thoughts, and I felt compelled to reply in kind.

With warmest regards,