The benevolent rumor

“Love to be unknown both by yourself and by others. Never look at the good or evil of others.” St. John of the Cross

If you want to know how far you’ve come in letting go of your attachment to what other people think of you, let a false rumor get started about you and see how you react.

A man I know was going about his business when a rumor that was completely untrue kicked up about him quietly, got caught in the wind, and spread behind his back for months. One day a friend said to him, “You know they are saying thus and so about you.” “What? Really?” said the man. “That couldn’t be further from the truth.” “I figured,” said his friend, "That's what makes it a good rumor. The best ones are never true.”

The man was discouraged and confused. Then he remembered what a person he admired once said, “I love you, and I don’t care what you think about me. It’s none of my business.” The man wondered if he could assume that stance. He wasn’t sure.

He went to the source of the rumor. He asked the person who started the rumor how it all got kicked up. The man thought the person hemmed and hawed when confronted, and he was careful not to say anything that might fan the flames of the rumor any further. 

The man decided that he couldn’t counter the rumor. He didn’t want to; it seemed like so much work, and never ending work at that. Counter messaging the rumor also seemed like an extravagance of the ego, and that seemed altogether out of sync with where the man wanted to go with his life. Then he remembered something Jesus said, and the man’s heart sank.

He turned to the text to make sure he remembered the teacher’s words correctly. Yes, it was right there in black and white, “Bless those who curse you.” Then he remembered Paul. He turned to the text to see if he remembered that one correctly too. Yes, it was right there scrawled across the page in Paul’s distinctive tone, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. Live peaceably with all. Overcome evil with good.” Then the man remembered his old friend John of the Cross. John taught that along the way on the spiritual path some of us will be weaned of the usual consolations, that is, we will not be comforted in our distress by worldly resolutions. We will be left alone with God as our only source of comfort. The rumor may continue; it may never be made right. The man thought to himself, “Am I ready to be left alone with God as my only comfort and consolation?” 

His heart sank further. He had long cared what other people thought about him. He wasn’t sure he was up to the task of detachment. 

Then something happened. He loosened his balled up fist. He closed his eyes. He felt his heart grow larger. Strange but true. He smiled and opened his eyes. 

The rumor and the people spreading it were a pop quiz, he thought. God must think I am ready to really have a go at actually applying the teaching of Jesus, Paul, and all the saints. Bless those who curse you. Bless and do not curse them. Conceal the sins of others as if they were your own. Was he ready? Would he dare try it? He wasn’t sure on either count, but why not try? He closed his eyes again and prayed for the ones who spread the rumor. Amen, he said. The outer edge of the burden lifted from his shoulders. It was a start. The man decided to trust that God would take his little blessing and make something of it. Teresa taught that. 

Then something else happened. The man felt oddly honored that God seemed to think that he was ready for the test the rumor put to him. He wasn’t sure how he’d do, still isn’t, but he was up for trying. He knew that much. 

“There’s an awful lot in this life to let go of, thought the man to himself, an awful lot to let go of.” Then he got up from where he was sitting and went on about his day. The rumor? He left it behind. See, turns out it was never any of his business anyway.