Three Grapefruits
A few days before my family and I were
leaving Japan in 1968 after a six-year sojourn, my friend from
California came to visit and gave us three grapefruits from a
carton that he had brought with him. Because of import
restrictions, fruits from abroad, such as grapefruits, melons, and
grapes, were a rarity and hence ridiculously expensive. A single
grapefruit, for example, would cost several thousand yen,
equivalent to twenty dollars at the exchange rate at that time.
People bought these exotic, imported fruits primarily to give away
as gifts on special occasions.
Since we were returning to California
shortly, where grapefruits are in abundance, we decided to give
away the three grapefruits. It so happened to be the day that my
wife went to her weekly flower-arranging class, so she gave the
grapefruits to her teacher. We thought nothing about it, but a
couple of days later we received a special delivery letter from the
teacher. Written with a brush on traditional Japanese paper and
folded carefully, the letter had to be something special. People
today use ballpoint pens to dash off missives.
The teacher’s letter began with very formal
words about the weather, then she expressed appreciation for the
three grapefruits. She wrote that she shared the first grapefruit
with her grandchildren, who were thrilled with the fragrance and
taste of an exotic fruit that they had never seen before. The
second grapefruit she peeled and ate together with an old friend
whom she hadn’t seen for over twenty years, making the reunion a
very special event. The third grapefruit she took to a hospital,
where her best friend was dying of a terminal illness. She hadn’t
eaten for more than a week, but when she saw the grapefruit she
wanted to try tasting just a little piece. When she finished the
first morsel, she asked for one, then another one, until she ate
half the grapefruit. The family members watching all this were in
tears, happy that their loved one was enjoying something to
eat.
The teacher thanked us profusely from the
bottom of her heart for the three grapefruits. My first reaction on
reading the letter was, “Thank the grapefruits!” But I also
reflected on what Hua-yen Buddhism [a school of Chinese Buddhism
based on the Flower Garland Sutra] says about a small
act of giving that has repercussions in an interdependent and
interconnected world. According to this tradition, one small act of
charity (dana paramita) is said to be equal to countless
acts of charity. No one can measure the effects of a single act of
giving, for its repercussions are beyond our limited
imagination.
The grandchildren will always remember the
sweet aroma and taste of their first grapefruit, overlapping with
the loving image of their grandmother, even after she is long gone.
The two women’s reminiscence about the past was made all the more
memorable with each bite of grapefruit, the good feeling emanating
and embracing those around them. The dying friend will live forever
in the hearts and minds of her loved ones as she enjoyed each
morsel of grapefruit. The letter from the flower-arranging teacher
reminds me of the possible relevance of Hua-yen Buddhism for the
contemporary world.
In reflecting on dana paramita, however, I
am reminded that it requires “three kinds of purity.” That is,
according to Buddhism, true giving involves the awareness that
there is no giver, no gift, and no receiver. Attachments of any
kind—whether it be to self as the benefactor, the value of the
gift, or the acknowledgment by the receiver—nullify the pure act of
giving. In our case we had no attachments, not because we were
selfless but simply because we didn’t pay for the grapefruits and
merely passed them on to the teacher. This might be considered true
giving, but it was a fortuitous act and had nothing to do with dana
paramita as an act of selfless giving, free of self-interest, which
leads to the other shore of enlightenment.
In fact, the true act of dana paramita
involves giving up what we cherish the most—ultimately our ego
self. I know a school teacher who encourages the practice of dana
in children by setting an example. Once, he took his students to
give fruits to the homeless. In doing so, he purchased the most
expensive fruits at the grocery store. When one mother complained
that the homeless did not deserve such extravagance, he explained
two important things about true giving. First, it requires some
sacrifice on the part of the giver. To give away something that one
doesn’t need is not dana. Second, the act must not be condescending
but must show respect to the one who receives the gift. In fact,
one is grateful to the recipient who makes the act of giving
possible.
Although dana paramita in the true sense is our goal, it is not
easy to actually practice it. But, as in the case of our three
grapefruits, even if giving does not come from our hearts, we want
to return something to the world. When such a practice is repeated
as often as possible, we may come to realize that just to be alive
is a gift, a gift made possible by countless good causes and
conditions. Whether we know it or not, every act of compassion,
real or simulated, may have a positive significance far beyond our
powers of imagination.