The Gift of Material Goods

[This is a talk originally delivered to Red Clay Sangha on September 18, 2011 during the 2011 annual pledge drive.]

This month, the month of the Red Clay Sangha’s annual membership drive, we are taking our theme from Cariyapitaka Atthakatha.  This is a Pali commentary on an ancient text (the Cariyapitaka – Basket of Conduct) which contains stories of thirty-five of Buddha’s prior lives retold in verse at Shariputra’s request to illustrate the Bodhisattva’s practice of the paramitas – including dana.  The commentary talks of dana being:

“threefold by way of the object to be given: the giving of material things (amisadana), the giving of fearlessness (abhayadana), and the giving of the Dhamma (dhammadana).”   

Related talks are being given about the gift of fearlessness and the gift of dana; this talk is about the gift of material things, which the Cariyapitaka pointedly observes can be twofold: internal and external.

The instruction of the test offers us that: 

“When the Great Man (the Bodhisatta) gives an external object, he gives whatever is needed to whomever stands in need of it; and knowing by himself that someone is in need of something, he gives it even unasked, much more when asked. He gives sufficiently, not insufficiently, when there is something to be given. He does not give because he expects something in return. And when there is not enough to give sufficiently to all, he distributes evenly whatever can be shared.”

This seems straight forward, right?  So why do we need stories about it (and the Cariyapitaka Atthakatha runs for over 3,000 words)?  Why do we need to talk about it?  For me it is because giving the gift of material possessions is not as easy as it sounds.  The Fourth Pillar of Islam, Zakat, instructs the faithful to give as charity 2.5% of their personal possessions every year.  That seems pretty tough to me: this is not income, but rather the instruction is to give 2.5% of everything you own every year.  How many of us do that?  How many of us could do that?  I know that for me it would be really, really difficult.

It gets more difficult still when we talk of internal gifts.  Here the the Cariyapitaka Atthakatha instructs that such gifts should be understood in two ways.

“How? Just as a man, for the sake of food and clothing, surrenders himself to another and enters into servitude and slavery, in the same way the Great Man, wishing for the supreme welfare and happiness of all beings, desiring to fulfill his own perfection of giving, with a spiritually-oriented mind, for the sake of enlightenment, surrenders himself to another and enters into servitude, placing himself at the disposal of others. Whatever limbs or organs of his might be needed by others — hands, feet, eyes, etc. — he gives them away to those who need them, without trembling and without cowering. He is no more attached to them, and no more shrinks away (from giving them to others), than if they were external objects.”

The problem, as I see it, is that we become attached to our possessions - worst among them money - and our own selves – which includes the time we guard so jealously, for it is in time that we give of our hands and feet and minds in service to others. 

The detailed exposition in the text is but a tiny portion of all Buddhist writings on the paramita of dana, and these extensive writings are intended to help us transcend such concerns.  But even if they help us get to the place of sincere consideration of giving, we are inclined to intellectualize and analyze our giving, our intentionality, our state of mind when giving, whether the cause or individual we are giving to is truly worthy. 

And we complicate it further with thoughts of tax breaks on our donations, directing donations to causes that are meaningful to us, and particularly those that provide quality services either directly to us or to those close to us who have suffered, or those suffering from conditions analogous to those the took away to parinirvana one who was close to us.

Our human nature and our particular American society make it easy for us to look at the gift of giving material possessions from a viewpoint that is very shallow.  We live in a society not just driven by consumerism, but also one driven by image and the display of material wealth.  Driving a nice car, wearing nice clothes, having nice jewelry, demonstrating through vocabulary and knowledge that one has a good education, all of these affect considerably how one is received and treated.  The right to accumulate wealth is taken to be the practical implementation of the “right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”  Our society raises us in the face of TV soaps and sports stars and movie stars to believe that success in life and happiness come from accumulation of material possessions.

We also come to believe that we need to accumulate these things in order to protect ourselves and those we love.  We feel the need to preserve our “quality of life” – which means not how happy we are, but how much stuff we have, how new our car is, and how expensive our vacations can be.  But for many of us the greatest driving force in the accumulation of wealth is the desire to plan for that future date when we will retire and move to the beach.  But not only does this drive an ever-expanding craving for a longer retirement, and a more pleasurable one, we have incentives of “forced giving” built into our society that essentially put barriers in the way of most people who try to achieve this end:  school fees for children are income-tested, as is the subsidy for long-term-care.  It is very easy to find that the more we put aside, the greater the social burden, and therefore the greater our resentment of this giving, and the greater our desire and ambition to “beat the system” and sequester assets to ensure us our own personal happy ever-after.

I have many business acquaintances that make a lot of money, and many of them advocate the wonder of capitalism, and tell me that mandated giving through taxes is wrong, and that they give generously to charity.  I am certainly in no position to question their integrity, but I would certainly suggest that before any one of us make this claim, we look carefully at the self-interest we are protecting with that we set aside before we even consider giving from that which is left.  How can we believe ourselves to be practicing sincere dana when we are first putting aside amounts to protect our own extreme comfort in an old age that may never come?  I come up very short when I look at my behavior against this measure.

I would also suggest we truly and the quality and intentionality of our giving.  One of the most visible forms in society of giving is political donations, and in this world we like to believe that we give to politicians who support causes we believe in, but remember, the most successful politicians are those who look after their constituents well.  In this regard the constituents are not just the local electorate, who benefit to the extent that the particular official can divert resources from the larger politic to serve the local agenda, but also the larger donors, often large corporations, whose sole purpose and measure of success is to drive earnings growth.

I would submit that the world we live in has a tendency to close in and limit our views of giving, both from the standpoint that this is something that comes after providing for an ever-expanding definition of a comfortable life for our families, and from the standpoint of the politicization of giving.

So is there a way that we can come back to the true spirit of dana and begin to practice it in our lives?  In the Cariyapitaka Atthakatha we read:

“When the Great Man has made a mental determination to completely relinquish whatever possessions come his way, whether animate or inanimate, there are four shackles to giving (which he must overcome), namely, not being accustomed to giving in the past, the inferiority of the object to be given, the excellence and beauty of the object, and worry over the loss of the object.”

The text expounds on each of these and I thought it would be useful to read the first in full, and to provide highlights of the third and fourth:

(1) When the Bodhisatta possesses objects that can be given and suppliants are present, but his mind does not leap up at the thought of giving and he does not want to give, he should conclude: "Surely, I have not been accustomed to giving in the past, therefore a desire to give does not arise now in my mind. So that my mind will delight in giving in the future, I will give a gift. With an eye for the future let me now relinquish what I have to those in need." Thus he gives a gift — generous, openhanded, delighting in relinquishing, one who gives when asked, delighting in giving and in sharing. In this way the Great Being destroys, shatters, and eradicates the first shackle to giving.

(3) When a reluctance to give arises due to the excellence or beauty of the object to be given, the Great Being admonishes himself: "Good man, haven't you made the aspiration for the supreme enlightenment, the loftiest and most superior of all states? Well then, for the sake of enlightenment, it is proper for you to give excellent and beautiful objects as gifts." Thus he … destroys, shatters, and eradicates the third shackle to giving.

(4) When the Great Being is giving a gift, and he sees the loss of the object being given, he reflects thus: "This is the nature of material possessions, that they are subject to loss and to passing away. Moreover, it is because I did not give such gifts in the past that my possessions are now depleted. Let me then give whatever I have as a gift, whether it be limited or abundant." Thus he … destroys, shatters, and eradicates the fourth shackle to giving.

The text, then, suggests that we bring the focus of our practice to dana.  It is not just an ethical practice, but also one that embodies the wisdom and effort elements of the Eightfold Path.

Dana may have peculiar Buddhist connotations, but the principle is not one that is exclusive to Buddhism.  Rather, like the Golden Rule which was the theme of the Interfaith Gathering in Decatur last weekend, it is universal.  In fact dana can be seen as a practical embodiment of the Golden Rule (in Christian terms to love thy neighbor as thyself and love the Lord thy God above all – which translates easily into Buddhist terms).

In the Bible (Acts 10:2) we can read:

“It is so easy for us to get caught up in our day-to-day activities and forget God. This is not how God desires for us to live. He desires us to acknowledge Him in all things. This can be done through prayer and meditation, but it is also done through our alms giving. By sacrificing something we hold valuable such as our money or our time, we are acknowledging that God is first in our lives. Being holy means being set aside for God.”

And the mandate in Islam to give generously in a manner dependent on wealth describes giving in more detail as including good deeds and time, and requires that it must be given in the community from which it was taken.

I’ll give you two stories.  The first happened just yesterday.  Yesterday afternoon Cherry, David, and Cynthia went to the Dharma Jewel Temple and after the class spoke at length to the Abbess, who was just delightful and enormously generous.  She opened up her practice to us and invited us to join them in their regular activities, which sound quite beautiful.  At one point she asked one of her nuns to look in the closet and she presented us with beautiful little bracelets – Cherry can show you hers.  This is a gift recognizing the Medicine Buddha given after the summer retreat, and intended to be given for the well-being of others.  I arrived home around the same time as my daughter who was bearing up well after breaking up with her first boyfriend, but was very sad.  I explained the meaning of the bracelet to her and put it on her wrist, and she immediately felt better.

The second is something that came to me when talking to a group of students at Marist.  In order to deflect from questions about the afterlife and to show Buddhism has a different emphasis, I talked of Christmas giving.  Many of us have memories of the excitement and anticipation of the special gift you wrote on your letter to Santa, and of running down the stairs on Christmas morning to see the perfect bike shining there for you.  But for my part if I compare that joy to that which arises as a father giving these gifts to my kids, or a son to my father, or of working with others and seeing the pure happiness in their eyes when I give them something special, there is no comparison. 

Cultivating one’s ability with the gift of material goods grows with compassion, and this comes out of our practice.  As we sit and practice mindfulness, and have conversations such as this among ourselves, we cultivate openness, compassion, and selflessness which enable us to grow naturally into giving selflessly of what we have to those who need without thought of the fruit.  I’ll leave you with two short quotes from our text: 

When he gives a material gift, the Great Man gives food thinking: "May I, by this gift, enable beings to achieve long life, beauty, happiness, strength, intelligence, and the supreme fruit of unsullied bliss."

And in a later portion of the text we read:

“Just as, when a house is blazing, the owner removes all his property of essential value and himself as well without leaving anything important behind, so does the Great Man invariably give, without discrimination and without concern.”

Stepping Off The One Hundred Foot Pole

[This talk was originally given to Red Clay Sangha on July 15, 2012.]

The title of this talk alludes to a koan - a non-logical story, typically a conversation between a teacher and student in medieval China - used in Zen practice.  There are two versions in common usage: the first, in the collection of koans called the Gateless Barrier, is brief and pithy; the second, in the Book of Serenity, is longer.  It is that version of the koan I am centering this talk on, and which I will begin by reading you.

Introduction

The bodhisattva appearing as a maiden on the banks of golden sand was a special spirit.  Stuffing pastries in a crystal jar, who would dare to roll it?  Without going into the frightening waves, it's hard to find a suitable fish.  How about one expression of walking relaxed with big strides?

Case

Changsha had a monk ask Master Hui, “How was it before you saw Nanquan?"

Hui remain silent.  The monk said, "How about after seeing him?" 

Hui said, "There couldn't be anything else." 

The monk returned and related this to Changsha.  Changsha said,

The man sitting atop the hundred foot pole:

Though he's gained entry, this is not yet the real.

Atop the hundred foot pole, he should step forward:

The universe in all directions is the whole body.

The monk said, “Atop the hundred foot pole, how can you step forward?”

Changsha said, “The Mountains of Lang, the rivers of Li.”

The monk said, “I don’t understand.”

Chang said, “The whole land is under the imperial sway.”

Verse

The Jade man's dream is shattered - one call from the rooster

Looking around on life, all colors are equal.

Wind and thunder, with news of events, browse down to the hibernating insects;

Peach trees, wordless, naturally make a path.

When the time and season comes, laboring at the plow,

Who fears the spring row’s knee-deep mud?

In his abridged translation of and commentary on The Book of Serenity, Gerry Shishin Wick gives a lovely and simple recap of the intent of this koan.  “Here Master Chosa [the Japanese form of Changsha] is encouraging us to take a step forward from wherever we may be.  Each of us is stranded on a hundred-foot pole. We may have climbed up for the view, or we may have fallen to it from another perch.  No matter where we are in our Zen practice or our life, we’re always standing on top of a hundred foot pole.  But we must not rest there.  We must step forward into the unknown void in order to experience the boundless life.

I’ve probably said enough already.  In fact in his commentary in the Book of Equanimity, Tiantong  tells us that “Changsha said, ‘If I were to wholly bring up the Chan teaching, there’d be weeds ten feet deep in the teaching hall.’”  It’s probably best to shut up.  But call this an intent at what the masters called grandmotherly kindness: I’m going to keep talking!

“Without going into frightening waves it’s hard to find a suitable fish.”  What a wonderful line.  But the it’s really important to not hold onto the fish, or the idea of a fish.  This is not the same as my mother’s, “Anything worth having is worth working hard to obtain.”

“The monk said, ‘I don’t understand.”  How marvelous.  This is already it.  I’ve used many times the line out of the Blue Cliff Record, “I’ll allow the Old Barbarian knows, but not that he understands.”  This “not understanding” is critical.  Perhaps for me stepping off the pole is really about letting go of my desire to understand.  From understanding it’s a short step to wanting to control.  But since I can’t control anything that really matters – the sun rising, the rain falling, my birth as a privileged male in the most privileged of times – what kind of delusion is this control.  Truly, not understanding is best, second only to intimacy.

“The man sitting atop the hundred foot pole:

though he's gained entry, this is not yet the real.”

Tiantong in his commentary says, “This and Yantou’s saying to Xuefeng that "Deshan didn't know the last word" are troubled about the same thing.  I always tell people that it's much like someone having taken their grandparents house and business, and their relatives themselves, and sold them off on the same ticket, then put it in a crystal jar which you keep with you wherever you are, guarding it like your eyeballs.  Don't let me see!  I'd surely pick it up and smash it, making your hands-free, folks joyfully alive with no taboos."

Being joyfully alive with no taboos is wonderful.  But from a zen standpoint, this is arrived at after studying and forgetting the self, and not something taken on casually out of ignorance.

Again, quoting from Tiantong, “A man with views attached to his bodily self came to the patriarch Upagupta and sought initiation. Upagupta said, “The rule of seeking initiation is that you believe in my words and don't disobey my instructions."  The man said, "I have already come to take refuge with you, master; I certainly will obey your command." Then Upagupta magically produced a precipitous cliff on a mountain soaring high with big trees on it, and made him climb up a tree, and under the tree also he produced a chasm thousand cubits wide.  Then Upagupta bade him let go his foothold.  The man did as he was told, and let go; Upagupta bade him let go one hand, and he let go a hand.  Finally Upagupta bade him let go the other hand; the man replied, "if I let go the other hand, I'll fall into the abyss and dark."  Upagupta said, "Before, you promised to do as I instructed – how can you disobey me?"  At that moment the man's love for his body vanished; he let go his hands and fell – he didn't see tree or of this anymore, whereupon he realized the fruition of the path.”

This sounds hard, maybe even radical, but it sounds doable.  There are two important warnings, though.  The first is to remember that the pole is a place of solitary insight, not a place of ignorance.  It’s easy to think we’ve stepped off the pole into freedom, but to have missed the point.  My son loves the old NBC show, “Friends,” and we were watching an episode – well, actually three episodes, back to back.  In one of these Chandler was crazy about the girl with the terrible laugh, but when she put her chicken on his plate and helped herself to his vegetables, he freaked out and wanted to run away.  This was a level of sharing that was too much of a commitment.  He consulted with his friends and Joey counseled him, “It seems to me it’s like everything else: you have a fear of heights, you go to the top of the building.  You have a fear of bugs….get a bug.  In this case you have a fear of commitment, so I say you go in there and you become the most committed guy there ever was… Jump off the high dive, stare down the barrel of the gun, pee into the wind.”

So Chandler jumps off the pole and shows a level of commitment that is beautiful and which he finds really liberating.  But when this terrifies and pushes the object of his desires away, he falls into misery.  He languishes with Jennifer Anniston and Courtney Cox in misery, being fed ice cream.  He stepped off the pole, but wasn’t really ready to step into liberation and immediately found himself stuck again.

The second warning is precisely what happened to Chandler.  It is Gerry Wick’s point when he tells us that wherever we are in our practice we find ourselves on top of the pole.  We can’t expect to step forward once and be done.  The ego is pernicious and won’t let us get away with that.

Cherry talked to us almost a year ago about the gift of fearlessness, and this is an important part of stepping off the one-hundred foot pole.  Be not afraid.  Just do it.  If we cultivate insight by sitting, by practicing mindfulness, we gradually become more aware of where we are and what we need to be doing.  We might still be hiding from it, but we are in needs to be done.  This is the insight we cultivate, and stepping forward from this place is very different from stepping forward out of ignorance.  It is when we step forward from this place that we can manifest the stories of the vigorous engagement of the Chinese and Japanese ancients, not caring what others think, and experiencing the whole universe as my body. 

This act of stepping off the pole is the same as returning to the marketplace with bliss-bestowing hands.  It is letting go of all our puffed-up ideas of zen-this and enlightenment-that.  It’s truly relinquishing the last vestige of ego and seeing all others, the entire universe in the ten directions as none other than ourselves.  It is recognizing that to care for others is just the same as to feed and shelter ourselves.  I’d initially framed the end of this talk in terms of how it is important to remember – or stay in touch with – the responsibility that freedom brings, and the compassion that is the manifestation of that freedom, but I realized as I was writing that this does not get it.  Stepping off the pole can have no vestige of this thinking or remembering.  It is a step into the purely instinctual world where we already know – but don’t understand – that we are none other than everyone and everything else, and from this place there is no alternative but for true compassion to arise.  This is the compassion that comes from the root meaning of the word, passion with, sharing with, being one with.  If I am free to act, if the whole universe is my body, then the responsibility to care for the whole universe as I would my own eyes arises naturally.

But this is not easy.

“It’s like being stuck in a dream from which we cannot awaken.  To awaken we need to have trust to let go."

The Book of Serenity commentary also alludes to the koan of the buffalo passing through the window.  This is a ganto koan, one of the last koans for a mature student.  The whole buffalo gets through the window except for the tail; the question for the student is how to get the tail through the window.  This is the same question as how to let go of that last hold on the pole, how to let go of the fingerhold on the cliff.  It is the story in the Mumonkan of the monk holding onto a branch by his teeth.  It about seeing and avoiding the small indulgence, that “one little thing” that we assure ourselves is okay.  It’s the old habit patterns that reassert themselves.  Seeing and letting go becomes ever more difficult as the residues that return become more subtle in manifestation, and the ego’s desire to survive becomes more crafty and manipulative.

As Joey said, “Pee into the wind.”