Today, I want to talk about the subversive freedom of faith. It is an idea I have been working on for two or three years, and I am finally finding the courage to share it with you. When I started this podcast six years ago, I was reluctant to discuss religion. I didn't want to get caught in the past or be associated with something seen as old-fashioned. Yet, I knew there was something deep in my heart that I needed to share—something I hadn't fully explored in my books or newspaper columns. It was a secret I had always carried that sustained me through both good times and bad: my faith.
Over the past six years, I began reflecting on Buddhist and Christian practices through the podcast, and I have loved every minute of it. However, the world and Ireland have changed since then. There is a polarity and division in public discourse now that feels entirely unexpected. Nobody could have imagined this level of anger and ideological division. When you boil it down, these conflicts may seem to be about surface-level emotional issues, but the root cause is always an ideological viewpoint. I don't mean one particular side; I don't hold a position on any current public debate, except to say that ideology and arguments about ideas will get you nowhere.
A couple of nights ago, I was at a dinner table conversation where we were asked what really changed our lives. For me, life changed around the age of 40 when I truly began to understand the word forgiveness. I arrived at this understanding through Buddhist practice. Recently, I spoke on the podcast about Santideva, a great philosopher in the Buddhist tradition—an Indian philosopher, I believe, though I am no scholar. From him, I learned a practical way to address internal anger and approach forgiveness.
Forgiveness brings a distinct lightness. When someone offends you, forgiving them allows you to let go rather than holding onto the wound, hurt, or sense of injustice. If you don't forgive, it is almost impossible to avoid becoming angry or harboring hatred. When you choose hatred, you are essentially drinking poison and hoping it will kill your enemy. You are consumed by it, and it does you no good. It becomes a heavy, unbearable suitcase that you carry around every single second of the day.
Loving your enemy lightens your load. If I forgive someone, I am the one who benefits. Forgiveness does not stop you from seeking justice or restitution, but it provides the very lightness of spirit required to pursue justice effectively. If you pursue justice while consumed by negative, disturbing emotions like hatred, it will exhaust you.
This week, another quality has been on my mind: gratitude. A few days ago, I was driving to Cavan on a beautiful day. I had just returned from a relaxing week-long holiday in Spain and was heading to the Farnham Estate Hotel for lunch. Driving through the Cavan landscape, past Lough Oughter and Killeen, I felt profoundly grateful to be alive. I grew up there, and looking at the lakes and rivers brought back the beautiful feelings I had as a young boy cycling through the area.
Gratitude is a blessing that keeps you healthy. Consider it this way: if you live a completely secular life and believe religion is entirely irrelevant or old-fashioned, you focus instead on politics, justice, and earning a living. When things go well, who do you thank? You might be grateful to your spouse or your children for their support, but that is a secondary form of gratitude. They didn't give you your life or your achievements. Ultimately, a secular mindset suggests you achieved everything yourself, meaning you should only be thankful to yourself. To me, that seems like a very lonely place to be.
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