The Mother's Answers on Sincerity

Sweet Mother, can it happen that a person is very insincere but unconscious of his insincerity?
I think in a case like this, he is no longer insincere, he is wicked; for if one knows that one is insincere and persists in one's insincerity, it is wickedness, isn't it? It means that one has bad intentions, otherwise why should one persist in one's insincerity?

I said one is unconscious.
Then how can one be conscious and unconscious at once? It is just this that is impossible. If one is conscious of one's insincerity, one can't be unconscious of it. It is impossible. The two can't exist simultaneously.

But if one is insincere and doesn't know where this insincerity lies?
Oh! one doesn't know?... That is because one is not sufficiently sincere and doesn't look at oneself. For, I guarantee this, if you are conscious that you are insincere, you know where it lies. Otherwise you could not be aware of your insincerity. For instance, in a certain circumstance one knows, knows that one shouldn't do this: "I should do this"; and at the same time one does not wish to do it, eh! And so, within oneself one finds a means, a sort of way of deceiving oneself and not doing it, because one doesn't want to do it — ah, that happens very often! (Laughter) And then, if at that moment, the moment when you are doing this little inner work to find an excuse for not doing what you don't want to do, if at that moment you become aware that you are insincere and still continue to do it, this means that you are perverse. If you ask me, this is what I call being wicked, bad. But if you realise that you are insincere, this means that you are conscious that you are insincere, and how can you say, "I am not conscious of my insincerity"?... Ninety times out of a hundred one does it without knowing. That indeed is the misery. It is that one deceives oneself with such facility, finds good tricks for not doing what one doesn't want to do, or the contrary: for doing what one wishes to do when one knows very well one shouldn't do it — it is the same thing. So you give yourself good reasons, and, unhappily, as I said, most men are so unconscious that they do it without even realising it. They think they are very sincere: "No, sincerely, I thought I had to do it" — like that, quite innocently. But that's because they are not sincere, not at all because they are quite unconscious. But if one is just a little conscious of what is happening within, one perceives very well the little trick one has played and how one has found — has somewhere been so cleverly unearthing, an excellent excuse for doing what one wanted to do. Even when one knows very well one ought not to do it. It is these two, you see: a play between unconsciousness and insincerity, insincerity and unconsciousness, in this way. But if you tell me, "I am conscious of my insincerity", then naturally at that moment this fact faces you: Have you decided to remain in the darkness or do you want to progress? There, the problem comes up. If you are conscious of your insincerity, you have only one thing to do: that is to put a red-hot iron on it and make yourself sincere. That is the feeling. You must take a red-hot iron: it burns well, and then... ouch!... that's the way.
For a moment it hurts a little, afterwards one is left in peace.

Sweet Mother, you have written: "Sincerity is the key to the divine gates." What does that mean?
It is a image, my child, an imaged, figurative, literary way of expressing the fact that with sincerity one can attain everything, even the Divine. If one wants to open a door, a key is necessary, isn't it? Well, for the door separating you from the Divine, sincerity works as a key and opens the door and shows you in, that's all.
Good night.

5 May 1954
- The Mother