Right Thought or Purpose, Cont.

After Dad has sympathized with Sonny, he can turn his attention to Sonny's victims. He can begin to realize that the most important task facing him is rectifying the damage.

Dad knows it's not enough to say, "Well, that's what I paid all those insurance premiums for." There are moral responsibilities to be met. He and Sonny must go to the hospital and face the injured and their families. Dad imagines the injuries... the pain and suffering... a pretty girl's disfigured face. He thinks about this girl's father. Dad has a daughter, too. He thinks about her. He weeps. What is bankruptcy compared to the destruction of a sweet and lovely face?

It is at this point, the point at which Dad begins to see the accident from other points of view, that he has finally gotten control of himself.

It is now possible for him to pray. He prays for the injured to recover. He prays that no further pain and suffering be caused anyone. He prays for the boy upstairs who has the troubles of a lifetime on his shoulders. There is no end to the things Dad prays for.

Time to go up and put a comforting hand on the kid's shoulder.

The human brain seems to organize reality around cliches. There is no better way - perhaps there is no other way - to conquer anger or grief than to use maxims, proverbs, parables and the like to help us through a crisis.

Of course, if a person is overwhelmed with anger or grief and finds himself in imminent danger of losing control and doing something that he will surely regret, he should immediately consult a physician. Once his emotional crisis has been managed, longer term counseling with a psychologist or clergyman can be obtained. He can see any trained advisor. (Anybody but a bartender. They do no good at all.)

Self-control is gained through rational consideration of the situation. The old nostrums such as counting to ten are worthless if they are not followed by an empathetic regard for the antagonist. Telling people to relax suffices only to raise the level of their anger. Worst of all are such attempts as, "I refuse to let that miserable so-and-so get to me! He isn't worth the aggravation! I have to consider the source!" Buddhists are supposed to consider the source not to accuse or condemn it but to understand how it got to be what it is.

Zhuang Zi (Chuang Tzu) asked his Daoist followers:

"Suppose you were crossing a river in a rowboat and another boat, an empty one, came drifting toward you in the current. You could be the most irritable man in the world, yet you would not lose your temper. You would carefully do what was necessary to avoid a collision or to minimize any damage.

"But suppose there was a man in this other boat. Well! As you saw him approaching you would shout at him to be careful, to watch where he was going, to steer away from you. And if he still kept coming, you would curse and threaten him; and if he kept on coming and got within striking distance, you'd probably hit him with your oar even if it meant you'd capsize your boat and fall into the river.

"Although the problem in both instances was precisely the same, the empty boat aroused no anger while the occupied boat did.

"Consider your anger and the damage it causes. Consider also that if you lived your life as empty of attachments as the first boat, who would wish to injure you?"

Jealousy is another form of anger. We nearly always resent someone else's gain in status. Egos do not easily play the role of spectator at another's successful performance.

The bedfellow of jealousy is schadenfreude, that secret, sweet feeling we get when learning of someone's misfortune. If left unchecked, jealousy and schadenfreude motivate us to behave in less than honorable ways. Self-criticism will reveal the underlying baseness of these emotions.

"One man may conquer ten thousand men in battle," noted the Buddha, "while another man may conquer only himself. And this man is the greater victor."

After we have freed our egos from participating in the qualities of names and things, and after we have gained control of our destructive emotions, we may find that though we have made great progress spiritually, we still have not dealt with the Evil One.

All religions command devotees to vanquish their Enemy-Shadows. The instruction is usually as follows: Even when a man kneels in prayer, if he feels anger or hatred towards another person, he must leave off his orisons and go to that person to make peace; for while he harbors contempt in his soul, he should not pray to God.

"Love thy enemy." The order is the same in all religions.

It is easy to say, "Well, first you must realize that your enemy is a person no better nor worse than yourself." "Ha!" we reply, "Like hell!" Then we proceed to list the differences. "I have good table manners. He eats with all the grace of a hammerhead shark. I enjoy Bach. He likes Tchaikovsky! He beats his wife indiscriminately. I beat my wife, too, but I, at least, make sure she deserves it before I strike her." There is no end to the flattering distinctions we make when comparing ourselves to persons we dislike.

The more we hate our enemy, the greater his power over us becomes. Since he can arouse and motivate us the way few others can, our feelings about him are seldom ambivalent. Far more positive in disapproval than we are in approval, we say with complete conviction, "The friend of my friend is possibly my friend, but the enemy of my enemy is definitely my friend."

What, then, do we do when we loathe a co-worker, or are certain that our neighbor is possessed by the devil, or are convinced that our mother-in-law salivates for the taste of our spleen, or suspect that the Requiem for the human race will be sung in nonCastilian Spanish?

First, we must remember basic Buddhism. Fundamental to Buddhist belief is the knowledge that egos are nonexistent and that the only real identity a person has is the Self, the Self which is identical in all individuals. This means that you and I are one unit, not two. And when we see the Buddha Nature in an individual and see also that the individual does not see that Nature in himself, we feel compassion for him. (There is a wonderful Hua Tou about this in Chan: "Why, when I know you do not exist, am I trying to save you?")

We should also try to put ourselves in our enemy's place and to see ourselves from what we suppose to be the vantage of his inferior level of consciousness. Remembering how the world used to look to us when we were stuck in Samsara, we account for the faults in his vision as we recall our own dismal record of cockeyed perceptions.

It is sometimes helpful to make a list of all the people, individuals and groups we dislike for any reason whatsoever. A Chan master will discuss each entry with us; but in the absence of a master, we can conduct the inquiry ourselves.

Let us assume that Jerry, having been racked and pilloried on account of Tom's irresponsibility, has decided that Tom is a fit object for enmity. (Jerry, we recall, lent Tom a large sum of money and Tom repaid it with a bad check which, when it bounced, caused all of the checks Jerry had written against it to bounce in turn.) For the sake of argument, let's say that Jerry listened to his pious advisors who counseled him to be magnanimous and not to prosecute Tom.

Jerry, taking what he thought was the high road, tried to honor his obligations to his creditors, employees and family and succeeded only in becoming a divorced ex-businessman with an alcohol problem and a bad liver. He smouldered with hatred for the deadbeat Tom until he extinguished that and all other passions during a long sojourn in the Swamp. Finally he threw himself upon the mercy of the Buddha and a good Chan master and was saved.

Now Jerry is told by his master that it is not sufficient that he no longer quivers at the mention of Tom's name. He must forgive and love Tom. Hearing this, Jerry cocks an incredulous eyebrow and replies that he would sooner be ordered to climb Everest naked and on stilts. Nevertheless, he is ordered to forgive and to love Tom.

His master may help by inviting him to play a game - a deadly serious game. Since Jerry wants to make a final assault upon the Nirvanic summit, he consents to play.

Jerry is told to pretend that Tom is the Swamp and that the Buddha personally is going to decide whether or not he will pull Tom onto salvation's shore. It is Judgment Day for Tom. Court is in session with the Buddha presiding. Jerry, to his astonishment and extreme discomfort, is named counsel for the defense.

The Buddha acknowledges Tom's long list of felonies and says that if Jerry can convince him to disregard the offenses, he will save Tom. But - and here is the kicker - if Jerry fails to defend Tom, he will send them both back into the Swamp, permanently. (Ah, if only such arrangements could be made with lawyers in the real world.)

Jerry's own salvation depends upon his success in demonstrating the extenuating circumstances of Tom's actions. He must plead Tom's case and he must plead it well.

As Jerry shakes his head incredulously, his Chan master shouts, "You must purge yourself of this defiling hatred! You must exorcize this devil."

There is nothing in religion more difficult to do. Jerry must begin to understand the reasons Tom got to be the way he is. He must see Tom's ego as being helpless against the forces of its deformation and, deformed, helpless to reform itself without the intervening miracle of divine love. Jerry must see that he, himself, is a manifestation of that divine love and that he is both privileged and obliged to radiate it. His hatred has robbed Tom of his humanity, and now he must restore it to him.

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