Tell the Truth, with Love

By Dawn Raffel

In October, I attended Swami Yogatmananda’s talk at Divya Dahm in Queens, NY. I had gone to this temple twice before, both times to hear Swami speak. The first time, I entered tentatively. As someone who does not come from a Hindu background, I was somewhat taken aback by all of the deities—dozens of them, all throughout the temple. Initially, it felt overwhelming. Yet as I continued to sit, what I had tried to understand intellectually began to sink in: There were so many deities that, paradoxically, they had to be One, with many aspects.

This time, I entered the temple eagerly. It was the month of the Durga puja, and Swami’s talk centered on the divine feminine and Holy Mother. The lecture was beautiful, and yet it was an exchange during the question and answer period that has continued to reverberate most powerfully in my mind. The question was posed in a language I don’t understand. Perhaps the specifics of the question don’t matter, because Swami’s answer, in English, is universally applicable: “Tell the truth, with love.” To this, he added, “because the truth is love.”

The questioner might have been asking about a personal matter, a business matter, a journalistic matter, or a political matter, and the answer would have fit. Yet often we convince ourselves that it is kinder--and frequently more expedient--to tell a white lie, or alternately, that we are obliged to offer a harsh “truth” that is really an opinion.

I work as a writer and editor, and I cannot tell you how often I’ve heard someone say, “I just want to tell my truth.” I think I understand what they mean—they want to share their experience or their perspective, and frequently enough, their grievance. Of course, they have a right to do so, and yes, I have done it too. Yet putting the possessive “my” in front of the word “truth” has always struck me as odd.

In a recent class on the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, Swami spoke about the limits of verbal communication: “Our words have limited meaning because of our limited minds, our wrong awareness of ‘I.’ There is no ‘I’ and ‘mine.’” Further, how we receive words has everything to do with our level of consciousness. In a subsequent class, Swami described Ramakrishna’s divine words as “doors to the infinite” …. “narrow apertures for those who want to realize the truth.”

But what of aspirants struggling to communicate as we go about our days with our limited perceptions? Can we try to understand more deeply that “my truth,” as a unique entity, is a flawed fiction? Can we endeavor to bring “my truth” closer to Truth, which is infinite love? In our speech and writing, and in our minds, can we focus on keeping “with love” foremost? It is both a simple and a profound challenge. “Tell the truth, with love” seems like the work of a lifetime (or more). I’ve placed these words on my desk to serve as a daily reminder.