January 2008

It seems our lives have taken on a different kind of twist

Now that you have given me the perfect gift

You have given me the gift

— The Gift; Annie Lennox

What is the perfect gift? This line from “Diva” by Annie Lennox expresses what many seem to believe, that there is something that can be given that is just exactly what the person needs. This idea of need does not exist in a void, however. It has an implied phrase that is not usually expressed, as in “needs in order to…” e.g. be happy (be happy with me as well); feel appreciated or loved; be able to do something they have long wanted to do, et cetera. The perfect gift would have to be a thoughtful one, that only a person who really knows the person well would be able to select.

Most gifts received do not fit this category, or course, as testified to by the long lines at the returns and exchange desk on boxing day. And each year the need that will be satisfied by the perfect gift is often one that has been created: the child that must have “Tickle Me Elmo” or the adult that “needs” a GPS device.

This time of year many in Western culture are obsessed with gift-giving. Often, it is a product of consumption-driven peer pressure, keeping the economy healthy, and a source of great angst and general dissatisfaction. This latter is one of the definitions of dukkha, Buddhism’s “suffering.”

Suffering is probably a poor word to convey in English the full import of Buddha’s teaching of the universal principle of existence, change by attrition. But that is the nature of translation; much is lost. Attrition has a religious connotation not usually intended, meaning “remorse for sin typically engendered by the fear of damnation.” This begins to get at the meaning of giving in Buddhism, and is coincidentally touched on by the next line in the song:

For we have fallen from our shelves

To face the truth about ourselves

Most giving is based on the self, the self of the giver and of the receiver bolstered by the act of giving. Social status, an amplification of the self, is often heightened by the conspicuous giving of gifts, from luxurious automobiles to endowing an institution or funding a public venue. This year, the greatest piece of the charitable pie is going to those institutions that the patrons themselves patronize, from opera lovers, balletomanes, and art aficionados to the various organizations that satisfy their appetite for culture, rather than to the soup kitchens that benefit the lowest folks on the totem pole.

Giving in Buddhism is dana, generosity, one of the six perfections, or paramitas. The meaning of dana is likewise largely lost in translation. When one tries to be generous, often one’s actions do not have the hoped-for results. One’s effort is not appreciated; one’s intent is misunderstood; what one thought would perfectly meet another’s needs turns out to be irrelevant or even unwelcome. The cliché is the mother-in-law’s gift that is hidden away unless and until she happens to visit.

But even in compassionate acts, such as feeding the hungry or housing the homeless, all too often charitable contributions do not have the intended effect, or do not last. In some cases, money donated does not end up helping the people intended. So the issue of what to do, how to practice actual generosity, is a complex one, and varies case by case.

One would want to practice generosity with true compassion, meaning doing what the recipient of one’s gift actually needs, not necessarily what they may think they want. This is where wisdom must come to balance compassion. When people are asked what they feel is the “perfect gift,” as we did last Sunday, many answers are offered. Some say that peace is the perfect gift; others say just to be truly present and listen; or to perfect one’s own disposition so as to have a good effect on others. One newcomer suggested that to help others to enlightenment, to follow the Buddha’s Eightfold Path, would be the perfect gift one could give.

All of these and other similar ideas have merit. But when one considers what one can really give to someone else, they appear in a different light. Can one actually give peace to another, and if so, how? Of course, some peace of mind results from the smallest gift, any act of kindness. And putting people into a situation where their basic needs are met for food, shelter and warmth are met certainly removes the immediate impediment to peace of mind. But world peace seems to require something else, as peoples who seem to have enough still often wage war on each other. How does one bring peace to people who hate and fear each other, from a history of decades, if not centuries, of mutual atrocity?

One seemingly intractable aspect of the knot of suffering in the world is the human capacity for self-aggrandizement and self-deception. And stubbornness. Even though those who practice Zen Buddhism feel a certainty that the Buddha’s meditation and enlightenment are what all people need to be happy, that does not solve the problem of how to help them understand that truth. Buddhists hesitate to proselytize, let alone attempt to impose this practice on others, even though we feel strongly that it might be the medicine they need. Someone said that there are three kinds of doctors in the world. The first delivers a diagnosis and prognosis, prescribes treatment and lets it go at that; the second follows up to make sure that one is following the treatment; the third holds one down and forces the medicine down one’s throat. The latter is not an option in Buddhism. All depends upon the individual recognizing the root of the problem and willingly taking action. Zen is the ultimate in do-it-yourself. If one tries to teach someone a lesson that they are not willing to learn, they will learn something all right, but not what one intended them to learn.

In Zen ceremonies, for initiation and for ordination, there is an expression concerning the “merit” of the ceremony. The giver, the receiver and that given are all immaculate. “Immaculate” usually means something like “free from blemishes,” but in this case it means inseparable from the beginning. Since the giver, the gift and the one receiving the gift are not separable, there is in effect no actual transaction, nothing has actually changed. The ceremony marks a reality that was true before the ceremony, like a wedding, where the couple has already become married in their hearts, or a funeral, where the individual is already deceased.

Merit is real in Buddhism, but cannot be accumulated, increased or decreased, as the line in the Heart Sutra implies: “all dharmas are marked by emptiness they neither… increase nor decrease…” so that waking up to the reality of merit is what is needed. It is the same for compassion: one can practice compassion for others, but it is not real until one feels the receipt of compassion oneself. If one comes to feel the great compassion of the universe, expressed as that of the buddhas and bodhisattvas, then one has plenty of compassion to share. If one does not wake up to this direct experience of compassion, then the best one can do is practice.

So the perfect gift is one that cannot be given. But it is one that can be received. As Master Dogen is said to have explained, the other shore actually comes to us. We do not, cannot, go to it. My wish for the New Year is that this ungivable gift come to all of you.