2. Establishing Kindness and Compassion

At Savatthi. Bhikkhus, if someone were to give away a hundred pots of food as charity in the morning, a hundred pots of food as charity at noon, and a hundred pots of food as charity in the evening, and if someone else were to develop a mind of loving-kindness even for the time it takes to pull a cow’s udder, either in the morning, at noon, or in the evening, this would be more fruitful than the former.

The Buddha— Pots of Food Sutta

Pemasiri Thera: Did you have your tea?

David: I’ve had enough tea!… Why do I get so angry with so many people? And sometimes I feel that I really hate you, especially when you lose your temper and shout at people. What’s happening?

Hate is too strong a word to use, as hate is connected with wanting to kill someone, and I don’t think that you want to kill me. No, you don’t hate me. You’re more like a young high school student who is mad at his principal. The student wants to change the principal and the principal wants to change the student. No, you’re just angry, which is the nature of being human. A precursor to ill will, anger arises when craving and clinging conflict with life’s experience. Apparently, you want your dealings with people to always be satisfactory and pleasant. You are clinging to that view and, when people fail to meet your cravings, you get angry with them. Anger can also arise out of fear, and for fear to arise, there must be aversion or danger. Then, we use anger to strengthen and protect ourselves. While you have come close to hitting people, others kill. People see a snake, and instantly fear arises. They know the snake is venomous and it might attack, and so danger is perceived. People use anger to kill the snake.

Are you saying that anger is useful?

No, anger isn’t a state that is generally useful, or worth cultivating. I’m only pointing out that anger exists, simply an aspect being human. There is a centipede in Burma called the Gowudah. Although its bite is deadly poisonous, it is also considered a delicious food. So when a man finds a Gowudah, he uses anger to try and kill it. Then the Gowudah fights back and the man is afraid of being killed. In this situation, anger and fear arise together.

Does anger cause sadness?

Even though sadness can arise out of anger, it’s generally mixed up with our cravings and clinging. If insects eat my texts, I am sad because my property is damaged. I am not angry with the insects. We are also sad when a friend falls ill. Again, there is no anger in our sadness. We might fear that our friend will die, but that fear is based on our clinging to our friend. Fear and sadness arise to the same level as the clinging. And when friends intentionally hurt us, we are only sad and not angry.

If a friend intentionally hurts me, I certainly get angry, and not just sad. You must be more advanced than me. Is this love that you’re talking about?

We need to realize it’s in the nature of people to be critical and that we can’t always understand the minds of others. Anger is part of a process that develops in recognizable stages:

• Dislike
• Annoyance
• ANGER

• Ill will
• Hate
• Cruelty
• Revenge

Dislike, annoyance, and anger are spontaneous, lasting for a few seconds, minutes, hours, or maybe even a day or two. They are not necessarily bad or dangerous stages. Yes, I admit that sometimes I do get angry and occasionally even shout at someone. Then after a short period of time, I forget all about being angry. And when that person comes by again for a visit, maybe hours or days or months later, we carry on without harbouring any anger towards each other. Our anger only lasted for a short period of time. If anger goes on for a long period, it develops into ill will and then eventually into hate, which is a bad and dangerous stage because hate is the source for cruel actions. Hate is intentional, always includes the element of cruelty and leads to everyone’s destruction. The other person is your enemy and you want to destroy him. Not going so far as murder, you devise ways of destroying the other person’s wealth, livelihood, and reputation. In universities and offices, hate takes the form of backbiting and character assassination. There is more hate in Sri Lanka today than fifty years ago. And then there is revenge, which is an extremely bad and dangerous stage where you retaliate and possibly kill someone.

SEED OF HATE

Anger is a seed that is in each and every one of us. When suitable conditions exist, this bad seed develops into ill will, hate, cruelty, and revenge. We are forever cultivating the suitable conditions to develop our anger into hate. In a previous birth before attaining enlightenment, the future Buddha lived as the ascetic Khantivadi. He lived a free and peaceful life, wandering here and there. One day, Khantivadi wandered into a park where a king was having a wonderful time with a group of beautiful women. The ascetic didn’t join the king and his group. Instead, he found a quiet place to meditate. After the king enjoyed himself, he was tired and lay down for a nap. The women weren’t tired and went to see Khantivadi. The ascetic talked with them about patience, kindness, and restraint.

When the king woke up and found all his beautiful playmates to be with the ascetic Khantivadi, he was jealous and angry. The king didn’t waste any time listening to Khantivadi’s words about the benefits of patience and the importance of restraint, even when beaten and abused. No. Instead, the king confronted Khantivadi, drew out his sword and cut off the the ascetic’s ears. The king yelled, “Do you still have patience? Where is your kindness now?” Khantivadi said, “Yes, of course.” With his anger fired up into hate, the king cut off Khantivadi’s hands and demanded, “And now? Do you still have patience and restraint?” To which the hermit replied, “Yes.” The king then hacked off Khantivadi’s legs. “And now? Where is your kindness?” Wracked in pain, Khantivadi could only gesture towards his heart. The king was delirious with hate and kicked the noble ascetic to death. The ascetic Khantivadi died peacefully without any angry thoughts. The king died horribly and took birth in a hell.

That’s a good story. I’ll remember it.

Through meditation, we prevent anger, the seed of hate, from developing into full-blown hate and then into cruelty. We aren’t eliminating anger, as anger is a natural part of being human. Instead, we are trying to eliminate the views that develop our anger into hate and cruelty. Even though anger arises, we don’t respond with hate and cruelty. Let’s say three businessmen have a heated argument over the funding of a project. Over the next few days, the first businessman remains very angry with his colleagues. He mulls over the argument at great length and depth, which develops his anger into hate. The second businessman is also very angry with his colleagues, but he doesn’t mull over the argument in his mind and thus his anger doesn’t develop into hate. The third businessman isn’t angry at all. He stands back from the argument and isn’t affected. His response is neutral. Though the second businessman is more affected by the argument than the third, is still angry with his colleagues, he doesn’t let his anger develop into hate. After the argument is over, the second businessman can work with his colleagues. This is a valuable quality.

We must differentiate between anger and hate: while anger is spontaneous and unintentional, hate is premeditated and intentional; and while anger isn’t necessarily dangerous; hate is definitely dangerous. Hate is linked to cruelty. Anger is the lesser of two evils and can be dropped more easily than hate. We have to be aware of what we are doing. A few days ago, four soldiers visited me. All four were blind and two were missing limbs. I asked them, “What do you feel towards the LTTE soldiers? Do you want revenge?” One soldier said, “No, we don’t want revenge and we don’t even hate the LTTE. In fact, we don’t want them or anyone else to be blind. It’s terrible.” I think the soldier answered honestly. “Why did you enlist?” I asked. “I enlisted because it was my duty to serve my country,” said the soldier. “It was a call. Later, soldiering became my profession and I went into battle. I wasn’t thinking of killing anyone or being killed. Going into battle was like going into a fistfight.” With that energy, these soldiers fought and suffered painful consequences. Even so, they are wise enough to have compassion for the LTTE soldiers. At least, they don’t hate them.

Acts of anger cannot be considered in the same light as acts of hate and cruelty. Acts of anger are spontaneous, starting and finishing quickly without any ulterior motives or thoughts of destruction. Acts of hate and cruelty, on the other hand, are premeditated, “I will do this.” or “I will say that.” When a mother scolds a child, a certain amount of anger is directed at the child. But generally there isn’t any hate or cruelty directed at the child. It is the same for teachers and their students.

When I was a young novice at the original Kanduboda Meditation Centre, there were lots of banana plants on the property. I remember one day when the bananas on one plant were being harvested. Although harvesting is a job for workers, not for novices, one fellow novice was very involved in giving instructions to the workers on just how to go about cutting down one particularly big and beautiful bunch of bananas. The novice was telling the workers how each and every cut should be made. A senior bhikkhu saw the novice and said, “Look, milk is going to drip from the stem and you are going to get it on your robes. It will be difficult to wash out. Cutting down bananas is none of your business. Stand aside and let the man do his work.” Despite the warning, the novice was too interested in the act of cutting down the bananas and continued to instruct the workers. The bhikkhu got very angry, “If words are not enough, action is necessary.” He then took a lime tree branchÞand lime tree branches are full of thornsÞand he was determined to give the novice a good whipping. He headed for the novice. Then he relented, threw the branch to the ground in disgust and walked away from the novice and the situation. Although anger was present in the bhikkhu, hate wasn’t. He had no desire to destroy the novice.

It’s helpful to note the difference between anger and hate. If, for example, we know someone’s behaviour is based on anger and not on hate, it’s much easier to live with him or her. We know the anger will pass and that he or she isn’t out to destroy us. In a teacher-student relationship, a student often does things that make the teacher angry. But if the student knows the teacher’s anger is based on compassion and not on hate, the student will continue to have a healthy relationship with his teacher. I witnessed the whipping of a small, young novice who had committed a serious offence. Feeling no other punishment to be suitable, his teacher whipped and whipped and whipped. He whipped continuously until the novice was crying and his skin was cut and bleeding. When the teacher had finished with the whipping, a bhikkhu who was watching was moved by the unpleasant incident, and he took the novice aside and applied medicinal oil to the novice’s wounds. He held and comforted the crying novice. Seeing the bhikkhu comforting the novice, the teacher who had just delivered the whipping also began to cry. So, both the teacher and the novice were crying. When the novice saw his teacher crying, he realized his teacher still had compassion for him, despite the whipping.

Of course, many students as well as children don’t see the compassion in their teachers’ or in their parents’ anger. In an intense outburst, a teacher might yell or throw something to the floor, yet still have a lot of compassion for the student. Experiencing too much pain, the student sees only hate and may even stop studying if his teacher’s anger is too intense. This may make the teacher even angrier and his anger might then develop into hate and cruelty. Cruelty won’t correct a student’s behaviour and, if cruelty is the only form of contact a student has with his teacher, the student will reject his teacher. A teacher tries to teach according to the student’s mental state. This can’t, however, be sustained indefinitely, all day and every day. Teachers are in a difficult situation. It’s not easy. So sometimes the teacher falls short and the student thinks the teacher doesn’t have any compassion. There are always misunderstandings between teachers and students. And so, a student who can appreciate the challenges that his teacher facesÞthen this is good.

What are the costs of hate and cruelty?

The cost is suffering here and now, and in the future. A cruel person takes a downward birth. We must avoid hateÞleave it all at just anger.

How?

Since loving-kindness and compassion are the direct opposite of anger, we use them to prevent our anger from developing into hate and cruelty.

KINDNESS AND COMPASSION

When I am angry with you, I practise loving-kindness, mettà. I speak words of kindness, asking, “Would you like a cup of tea?” “What’s bothering you?” and “Can I help in any way?” I ask you these questions, and I try hard to be genuine as I say these things.

Suppose you just avoid me?

No, that makes matters worse. I must go out of my way to be kind and helpful, even when you’re not present. Going out of my way is the practice of meditation. Last week, you left your laptop computer in the kitchen and it was brought to me. It is an expensive piece of equipment and you don’t want to lose it. Even though I was angry with you, I looked after your property so that it wouldn’t be stolen. I didn’t say, “Oh, that laptop belongs to the Canadian meditator. Whatever happens, happens. Do what you like with it.” No, I cared for your property in the same way I want my own property to be cared for. This is mettà. I learned about mettà from my mother, not from a bhikkhu. My mother was very kind and even though she was regularly upset with me, she never hit me or spoke harshly. Instead, she explained the effects of my actions. When my mother was told that I’d been seen fighting with other children, she said, “I worry when you get into these fights. It’s me who suffers, not you.” When she spoke in this way, I thought, “It’s enough. I’ll try not to fight with anyone.” She didn’t have to yell or resort to any physical means of punishment, such as whipping.

Should I practise mettà for those who are angry with me?

Yes, we practise mettà, especially towards people who are full of anger and hate. This isn’t easy because people have defilements, which makes them suspicious, “Why is Pemasiri being kind?” or “What does he want?” Even though the person would benefit from my help and I’m not expecting anything in return, he or she rejects it. Some people even think that I am just plain foolish to go out of my way and help others. Mettà is often misunderstood.

It is easier to be angry, and hit the person.

Yes. A good hard hit is how society usually responds to anger. Perhaps in Canada, you can settle your disputes with a brief fistfight and your anger ends when the fight ends. That is not the case in Sri Lanka. Anger does not end when the fight ends. The person’s anger goes on and on, develops into hate, and is carried around possibly for generations. This has happened many times to me, an endless number of times.

Does metta stop anger?

The practice of mettà is the direct opposite to anger and hate. It is the most effective way of dealing with anger and hate. Meditators who develop mettà up to the jhàna level bear no anger towards anyone. “Spread mettà to all beings,” said the Buddha. A person who has mettà has no enemies, has no anger towards anything. To be completely free from anger, however, we have to attain the stage of anàgàmã. We also overcome anger with compassion, karunà in Pali. The practice of karunà is also often misunderstood. In its basic application, we notice that someone needs help and we help them. In a more advanced application of karunà, we help anyone, good or bad. Perhaps they have no panca-sãla, such as murderers, thieves, adulterers, liars, and drunkards. We help the man who murdered his mother; we help Prabhakaran, the leader of the LTTE; and we help the arahats. When we help the murderer and help Prabhakaran, many people will disapprove; some will definitely think were crazy. The man who murdered his mother is in one way worse off than PrabhakaranÞat least Prabhakaran hasnt murdered his mother.

It seems to me that this process of meditation also arrives at kindness and compassion, and so perhaps it is both a ground from which we begin and a state to which we aspire? This is so parallel to the teachings of Jesus Christ! Wisdom is wisdom.

Do you remember Devadatta’s assassination attempts on the Buddha? He hurled a stone at the Buddha and slightly injured him. The Buddha suffered physically and Devadatta suffered mentally. Both the Buddha and Devadatta suffered. If we lived at that time and helped both the Buddha and Devadatta, we would have been practising karunà. Many wealthy people take great pleasure in spoiling a child from their own social class. Yet, they find it impossible to touch a beggar’s child. This isn’t karunà. And there are lots of mangy dogs on our streets, full of sores with their skin peeling off. People chase these dogs away because they don’t want to even see them. But the dogs that are beautiful, that look like powder puffs, people pet them and keep them on their laps and might even let these dogs sleep in their beds. Nothing is too good for a powder puff dog. Again, this is not karunà. Karunà means we care for all children and all dogs in the same way.

When I see a mangy dog, I feel pain and want to help. Is this karuna?

That state of mind is karunà.

I want to relieve my own pain.

You can practise karuna to relieve your own pain. And you can practise karuna to relieve the dog’s pain, without thinking of yourself. Either way is karunà; either way is compassion.

Do I practise karunà for myself?

Yes. When you have karunà for the dog, you arouse karunà within yourself. And when you cared for lepers in India, you aroused karunà. Your actions were performed with karunà. You weren’t thinking in terms of race or religion. Say I only help the Sinhalese war refugees and don’t help the Tamil refugeesÞthat is not karunà, as karunà is universal. If you’re practising karunà, you don’t measure one person to be Sinhalese and another person to be Tamil. When I was in Sydney, Australia, a Tamil girl came to our centre and everyone helped her. Well, it turned out she was LTTE and she left Sydney to go and help them. That was her business. She did what she wanted to do. Her actions, however, didn’t make any difference to our karunà. We showed her karunà because she was a human being in need of help. How she reacted to our karunà was her business. We will have very few chances to cultivate karunà if we are forever measuring whether or not a person is sincere and deserving. And if karunà isn’t cultivated, if it doesn’t have a chance to arise, there will come a time when it will be difficult to feel any karunà, even when we need to feel compassion. The person who expects karunà, expects compassion, does not understand compassion. It could be that he wants our money, by fair means or foul. That doesn’t matter. We still practise and cultivate karunà.

I love these teachings!

When I was a teenager, my brother had a garment shop and he often gave me new sarongs. If a beggar saw me wearing the new sarong, he’d ask for it, and I’d always give it to him. Upon discovering what I was doing, my brother refused to give me any more sarongs. He also told the other shop owners in our area not to give me a sarong. Even if I went into a shop to buy one, the owner wouldn’t sell it to me. For a long time, nobody gave or sold me sarongs. Eventually I got a chance to buy a nice red-checked silk sarong, and my mother, keeping a close eye on my clothes, said, “Well now, you have a new sarong. Remember not to give it away.” Sure enough, a beggar soon came along and he wanted my new red-checked sarong. To avoid getting into trouble with my mother, I gave the beggar an old white sarong. “No,” said the beggar, “I don’t want your old white sarong. I want your new red-checked one.” I then gave the beggar the red-checked sarong and told my mother that I had given my new sarong to the laundry. The following week the beggar came to our house and he was wearing the red-checked sarong. “Well,” said my mother, “the laundry has arrived!”

Another time, I joined a group of pilgrims to climb Sri Pàda Peak. On our way back down from the peak, we met a beggar who was wearing an old tattered sarong and without delay I swapped the new sarong I was wearing for his old one. The beggar was very happy. The pilgrims, however, were very unhappy. They strongly disagreed with my actions and scolded me all the way home. That’s society. People don’t understand karunà. We must help others as much as we can, within our limitations, and we must know our limitations. There are certain things we cannot do for others. When we foolishly go beyond our limitations, we will find ourselves in difficulty. We have to know how to help.

A young man asked for my help when I was at the original Kanduboda. He was poor and had only one leg. The man said, “I have no place to live and I want to get married.” We gave him what he wantedÞmoney, an artificial leg, household items, a house, and a job. A few months later, he returned to Kanduboda, “I lost the things you gave me and the house is in need of repairs. Could you give me more help?” We gave him more help. We made the necessary repairs to the house, which was falling to pieces, and we found him another job. “Don’t give that man any more help,” said a friend. “He is a liar and a fraud.” This indeed was the case. The man was spending all the donations on simply enjoying himself, leaving his wife and child to live in extremely bad conditions. I also learned he lied to the soldiers manning the nearby checkpoint. Just recently the man showed up again, “I was a soldier and lost my leg while fighting in Jaffna. Could you help me?” I immediately chased him away. At that moment I had no mettà or karunà in my mind. None. In a month or two, he will surely come again with another story. It wasn’t right that I chased him away. That action was wrong but natural because his lies really hurt our efforts to help many people in the Kanduboda area. If I had just told him to go away without being angry, it would have been all right.

Right on. Are you angry with him now?

No, not at all. There will always be people who will take advantage of mettà and karunà. This man lied to us and he gained a few items. When his lies were exposed, we cut off our association. There is nothing wrong in simply staying away from him, without being angry. When we help someone with karunà, there are no expectations and hence no anger when things dont work out. You had a pet snake when you were a child. Despite feeding and caring for it, you still knew it was a snake and that at any time it could turn on you and bite. I help people if they need help. Otherwise, I leave them alone.

What about reforming people?

I tried that a few years ago. One of the workers at Kanduboda had a bad habit of stealing everything he could lay his hands on, and we had to let him go. A year later, the man returned and asked if he could have his old job back. He was full of repentance and wanted a second chance. Thinking I could reform him, I gave him a job. Members of Kanduboda’s committee condemned my decision. They didn’t believe the man could change. “Please,” said one of the members, “don’t allow this man to work at our centre.” I wouldn’t change my decision and for over a year the man was unbelievably good, doing no harm, not even to an ant. Everybody was very happy with him until one day he again stole everything he could lay his hands on. It was a big problem. And once again, the members condemned me.

I used to believe that I could measure a person’s character, “This man is exceptionally good; this woman is fifty percent good; this girl is about sixty percent good; and this man, well, he is one hundred percent bad!” When asked, I gave an exceptionally good man or woman a recommendation for employment. Then sometimes, the man I had measured as good turned out to be bad and his employer blamed me, “We hired this man on your recommendation and he cheated us. It is your fault.” And then there were times when I had measured people as bad and they turned out to be remarkably good. I am now more cautious about measuring people. When asked about a person’s character, I say, “Well, she was good when she worked with us. I don’t know how she is now.” or “He was bad when I knew him, but he may have improved.” Because people have deceived me too many times, I no longer contemplate the wonderful qualities of people. It’s perfectly peaceful to contemplate trees and flowers. But people? I invariably remember their bad qualities. So these days, I contemplate the qualities of the Buddha and the arahatsÞthat contemplation gives me lots of joy. “Follow the example of the arahats,” said the Buddha.

I find it difficult to associate with people who criticize everyone.

People who are without defilement can associate with anyone. We can’t help it if others measure us in various ways.

What to do when people yell at me?

We look at difficult situations with clear comprehension and then act with wisdom, which means using lots of mettà and karunà. What we learn from these dhamma discussions must be applied in our daily lives. Its quite useless if we just discuss a problem and stop there. Pointless. The dhamma is a path of training. When we are happy, we make others happy. I can’t be with a long face.

LITTLE THINGS

The little things we do can help people a lot. An elderly woman who begs at our centre once told me, “People are cruel. They always chase me away.” I said to her, “Elder sister, you are welcome here and I will go begging with you.” She was very happy to think that we would go begging together. It brought her a great deal of joy. “You are crazy,” said one man. “Don’t tell her that you’ll go begging with her.” But I wanted to make her happy. That’s all. With few exceptions, I never chase beggars away and always find the time to talk with them.

Just the other day, two young girls raced up the path to see me. They were excited and happy because they had just completed their “O” Levels. Rejoicing with them, I gave them pieces of toffee and I expressed my joy at their success. If I hadn’t rejoiced with them, the two girls would have been hurt. A bhikkhu recently told me of a five-year-old girl who lives near his aranya and, whenever he goes for alms, he always tells her know that he is going for alms. One day, he forgot to tell her and she cried all day. She was so sad the bhikkhu had forgotten her. When the bhikkhu heard that the little girl was sad, he immediately went to her house and spoke with her, and then she was happy again. It often doesn’t take too much to make people happy. Even animals are happy when we are kind to them. Many animals just want to have a conversation.

There are countless stories of bhikkhus living in harmony with animals in the forest. I knew a bhikkhu who was on very friendly terms with monkeys and deer and elephants. When he went down to the river to fetch some water, many monkeys went with him, and one of the monkeys would help him carry the water back to his hut. The bhikkhu held one side of the bucket, the monkey held the other side, and together they walked along.

Many of these same monkeys came for the bhikkhu’s evening chanting. When he had finished chanting, the bhikkhu had to tell them to leave; otherwise, the monkeys stayed all night. Even the deer joined him on his walks down to the river. And at the same time most every day, there was an elephant that arrived at the bhikkhu’s hut. If the elephant was late in arriving, the bhikkhu asked, “Why are you so late?” And it made squeaky sounds. This elephant slept just a few metres away from the bhikkhu’s hut.

Sometimes, it slept right in the middle of the path leading to the toilet and the bhikkhu had to ask the elephant to move out of the way. Even in those times when the bhikkhu had to rush past the elephant, the elephant remained calm. No reaction. The elephant wouldnt harm the bhikkhu. Never! This bhikkhu and elephant could be friends because the bhikkhu was always kind to the elephant and his robes smelled of the forest. After the age of eighty, the bhikkhu moved away from the aranya and returned to the Kanduboda Meditation Centre. He used to sleep in his coffin! When village people arrived at the bhikkhu’s former aranya, their smells of perfume and soap upset the elephant. The village people then killed the elephant.

Animals normally attack people because they sense danger. Yet Samita, a Western bhikkhu who lived in the forest for seven years, was never attacked or harmed in any way by animals. Often out exploring, he once lost his way and found himself in the middle of a herd of elephants. The lead elephant picked Samita up with its trunk and walked towards the road. Seeing Samita in the elephant’s grip, the villagers thought it was going to kill him. The elephant had no intention to kill. When the elephant reached the road, it set Samita downÞunharmed. A long time later, when Samita did eventually die, the newspapers reported that an elephant had killed him. That’s false. Samita always lived in harmony with elephants and other wild animals. He died of starvation. I knew the police officer who gave Samita his last meal.

I heard that Samita died from a drug overdose, that he committed suicide.

A number of things likely came together in Samita’s death. Doctors said Samita could have overdosed on the medicine he was taking for various conditions. Like Samita, I also lived in forest aranyas with various animals. At one aranya, a female leopard used to visit my hut, sometimes leaving her cubs with me while she went off searching for food. In another aranya, wild boars regularly payed us visits because we received curd and they wanted some of it. I shared a third aranya with a herd of elephants where a baby elephant, still a large animal, once took hold of a bhikkhu, held him by his robe and wouldn’t let it go. The baby elephant’s mother came by and pulled her baby away from the bhikkhu. Another time I heard loud crashing sounds and upon investigation I discovered an elephant cheerfully trampling a large pile of bricks. “Elephant!” I said. “These bricks are for a bhikkhu’s hut. The bhikkhus who live in these huts practise mettà towards you. They practise karunà. Please don’t trample the bricks.” The elephant lifted its head, looked at me, and walked away.