The distant place that lies within.

The expression, “Home is where the heart is,” suggests that our home is in union with another. The problem with that understanding is our sense of home is then wedded to the other’s well-being. So long as that union is well, our well-being will be good. However, the opposite is also true. Tying yourself to another can be dangerous, especially when the other jeopardizes our sense of stability and wholeness.

Another perspective is more favorably secure: the perspective that home lies within, right where your spiritual heart exists. The first view can be problematic, but so too can the latter. It all depends on how we understand and experience ourselves. If our view is one of self-love, that is one thing. If our view is self-hatred, that is even more dangerous than the first. In either case, wherever we go, we go with ourselves.

Both self-love and self-hatred can and do vary according to changing circumstances—everything of a mortal nature is constantly changing, and no one can stop that flow of mortal change. Consequently, it is necessary to look beyond mortality to get to the root of the matter.

Three different spiritual teachings point us to the resolution. The first comes from a familiar source (The teaching of Christ, as expressed by St.Paul the Apostle). The second and third sources are less familiar but dovetail with that of The Apostle. Let’s start with the second, move on to the third, and check back in to conclude with St.Paul.

“We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience.”—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, the French philosopher, paleontologist, and Jesuit priest who thought deeply about the meaning of our existence and relationship with the Divine. Chardin held this unorthodox view that within our mortal shell was our true home. Accepting this perspective changes how we understand ourselves (and others) from a constantly evolving mortal being that ends in death to a never-changing immortal being that never ends.

The third source comes from one of the greatest spiritual poets, artists, and educational theorists who won the Nobel Prize for literature in 1913 (Rabindranath Tagore). Few in the West have heard of Tagore, but he shared de Chardin’s perspective and conveyed his view through many of his works, not the least of which is his poem Journey Home.

“The time that my journey takes is long, and the way of it is long.

I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light and pursued my

Voyage through the wildernesses of worlds, leaving my track on many a star and planet.

It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself,

and that training is the most intricate, leading to a tune’s utter simplicity.

The traveler has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,

and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the innermost shrine at the end.

My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said, ‘Here art thou!’

The question and the cry ‘Oh, where?’ melt into tears of a thousand

Streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance ‘I am!’”

Like de Chardin, Tagore was persuaded that the discovery of our true home—the one of spiritual essence—only came about through a quest within, where we find our eternal source.

Now, to tie all three together, let’s examine what St. Paul had to say in the book of 1 Corinthians. He said (metaphorically), “You are the body of Christ. Each one of you is a part of it” (the concluding point of 1 Corinthians 12:12-27). Still, when taken literally, it unites with the other two perspectives that our true home—the one we can never leave lies at our spiritual core. There, alone, all of us can find the eternal spirit of love—our Divine essence. And when we see that core, we know that our essence is the same as the Divine. Short of that, we are all left with a self-understanding that bobs and weaves like a cork tossed about on the waves of change, sometimes loving and at other times with hatred. God is undivided love, and that is us.

On Grief and grieving.

With no loss, there is no love.

Fewer things in mortal life hurt as much as the grief that comes from losing a loved one. To pontificate about the suffering of another is to ignore our own pain and disconnect ourselves from humanity.

During such times of loss is an inappropriate time to speak of the long-view. To move to “betterness” without going through bitterness is not only disingenuous, but it is also more than likely impossible. We are, after all, human and rarely, if at all, react to adversity gladly. Few indeed can get to a better place without having first experienced disappointment, anguish, and suffering. Nobody I have ever known (including myself) has ever leaped over these preliminary emotions of sadness as though moving from “A” to “Z” by jumping over “B” through “Y.”

Such pain can seem unbearable while in the midst of suffering the loss of someone we love. Moving beyond to something better takes the healing balm of time. And only then can we find the clarity of mind and emotions to see no genuine love without inevitable loss. Nothing conditional lasts forever, and only a denying fool believes in conditional eternity. The wise recognize the inherent risk of loving and willingly accept the inevitable pain of loss.

But once adequate healing has come, we can look back and savor the beauty of those we have lost. Dr. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross expressed the connection between the downside of suffering, the upside of going through anguish and pointed out a blessing not usually observed:

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, know struggle, know loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

An equally profound observation spoken by the father of Zen shows us that suffering itself leads to a transformation leading to bliss: “Every suffering is a seed, because suffering impels us to seek wisdom.”—Bodhidharma

Today you are you!

The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and not twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them.

The words above were expressed by Thomas Merton in his book No Man Is an Island. The expression, of course, is meant to apply to another person. But suppose we alter the saying a bit and see how it would then be understood.

The beginning of love is to let ourselves be perfectly who we are, and not to twist to fit an image we hold of ourselves. Otherwise, we love only the reflection of ourselves.

The intent of the second expression is to focus attention on the difference between the image we hold of ourselves and who we are, as represented by the image. That intent, of course, presents a formidable challenge to recognize, first, that our true nature is not a reflection. And secondly to accept that we are not what we see but rather the one doing the seeing.

And if this is true for us (as it must be), then it is likewise true for those we love. No one is truly an image, and everyone is truly an unseen seer. The difficulty is that everyone, from the earliest age, right on to the edge of death, is by nature sensorially oriented and everything we sense appears as an image in our brain. That is the universal manner of establishing identity: pure image, a virtual hallucination. Image is everything to the unenlightened, so it should come as no surprise that we have become preeminently concerned with style and very little with substance.

A vast number of people are growing weary of the thin veneer of insubstantial people, of role-playing and pretense, but so long as we remain ignorant of our own identity (which is without form), it is questionable that we will find our way beyond this trap and we will continue to live in fear of being found out and exposed as potential frauds.

Once a person initially loses their ego and awakens to their true identity (which is without form), it is quite disorienting. And it is common to stay, for some time, in a state of pregnant anticipation, awaiting a new image to emerge that replaces the idea of the ego. If the awakening is genuine you can wait until the end of time and never again have a self-image that you believe in. Instead, you will merge, unconditionally, with all sentient beings, and live without an identity.

“Today you are you! That is truer than true! There is no one alive who is you-er than you!”

Seeing clearly.

Today is Sunday, the day in the week when Christians around the world go to church, hoping to hear a sermon of inspiration and goodwill. Therefore, I am offering this post as a sermon that will accomplish those two things: Inspiration and goodwill.

To begin, I would like to address sight and vision. Macular degeneration is a condition that results in a loss of sight in the center of your eye due to damage to the retina. Some sight remains peripherally but is mostly lost looking straight on. There is no known cure for macular degeneration, but there is for degenerative vision.

There are parallels to this physical condition that we know of as such things as bias, preconceived notions, fixed opinions, denial, and unfounded belief systems, all of which emerge from a self-understanding centered on the ego. All of these conditions serve the function of filters blinding us to unfettered clarity; true vision—seeing things as they are, without distortion. These impediments lock us into inflexible ideologies, opposed to, and at odds with, other similarly embedded ideologies. The impediments are clouded windows through which we see and understand the world and ourselves. It’s like being in a cave with two openings: One looking outward and the other looking inward, both of which are clouded and contaminated, obscuring clear vision. One gives us ideas concerning ourselves and the other, ideas concerning the world, and both are shrouded.

The undeniable correction is to remove the impediments and see without filters of distortion (call it spiritual surgery). Within Christian mysticism, the term that captures the principle of this unfettered clarity is “thusness,” which means things as they are. This “thus” means an unveiling of what is present, and thereby also an elementary confirmation, an original principle of truth prior to conceptual differentiation.  

Meister Eckhart, (the 13th-century German Theologian and mystic), used this expression to signify unattached oneness or unity. Such a view of unification, when intuitively experienced, removes the impediments and allows clear seeing.

One of the most misunderstood passages in the Bible is John 15:13, which looks like this in Koine Greek (the ancient form of Greek used to write The New Testament): “μείζονα ταύτης ἀγάπην οὐδεὶς ἔχει, ἵνα τις τὴν ψυχὴν αὐτοῦ θῇ ὑπὲρ τῶν φίλων αὐτοῦ,” and is ordinarily translated into English as, “Greater love has no one than this, that one lay down his life for his friends.” I’m not employing Greek here to impress you but rather to prove a point. The two highlighted words provide insight into the true meaning of this passage. 

The first highlighted word (ἀγάπην) means universal, unconditional love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance. There is only one kind of love that is unconditional (e.g., no strings attached), and that kind of love can come only from God. All other forms of love are conditional and contingent upon changing circumstances.

The second highlighted word (ψυχὴν) is the life of a particular form: Life of the psyche, in other words, ideas, thoughts, ideologies, biases—any and all manifestations of the mind. In Koine Greek, there were three different forms of life that depicted the Greek’s different views of life. This form of life (“ψυχὴν”) is the form used here and is the root word of our present understanding of “psychology” or “psychiatry.” The second form of life was “ζοε” (pronounced Zoe—long A sound at the end—and meant the unified, ultimate source of everything. The third life form was “βιος,” the root word underscoring biology—our physical being.  To grasp the significance (as it relates to seeing clearly) it’s necessary to understand John 15:13 in the original language, not the English translation.

Thus, to come up with the correct translation of John 15:13, it is necessary to understand the words first in Koine Greek. Rendered in that way, the passage should be: “Greater love (e.g., unconditional) has no one than this, that one lay down his ‘mind manifestations’ for his friends.” And why might understanding be the highest act of love? Simple: It’s impacted ideologies (dug-in biases) that separate us all from one another and drives us into camps of close-minded hostility: The same quality, that at present, lies at the core of polar oppositions, dividing people everywhere and leading to the political gridlock that paralyzes our current government (and those around the world) where compromise becomes an impossibility. 

Often times, spirituality and contemporary living appear to be at odds. Nothing could be more incorrect. Seeing clearly is essential to human progress, and at the present time, we seem to be stuck in ruts of ideologies of irreconcilable opposition, believing all the while in the flawed principle of “I’m right, and you’re wrong.”

What’s real?

Good and Evil.

To say what’s real, by necessity must consider the opposite—What’s not real. Nothing can be understood in isolation. It is only possible to understand one thing when compared to the opposite. Love means nothing in isolation from indifference. Likewise, evil is understood against the comparison of goodness. Not only do reality and unreality define each other, but they are also opposite to each other. Everything has these two dimensions. Up and down can only exist together. They define each other, and the same relationship applies to everything: Black/white, in/out, and seen/unseen. What can be seen has perceptible qualities. The unseen lacks perceptible qualities and thus can’t be seen.

The Buddhist understanding of the relationship between reality and unreality is not different from the Christian understanding. It uses different words but in essence, it is the same. Both the Buddhist view, together with the Christian perspective, provides a more thorough understanding. Consider the following:

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”—2 Corinthians 4:18

Here, The Apostle Paul articulates the two sides of reality and points to how they are different. The seen is temporary but the unseen is eternal. What is eternal has no beginning nor end. However, what is seen has a beginning and an ending and is thus temporary. Where Buddhism differs from Christianity on this matter concerns opposing reality from unreality, or to use the Christian terms the unseen from the seen.

The dogmatic Christian teaching says that these two can be divided but when explored more thoroughly it can be shown that this dogmatic teaching is incorrect. The essential nature of God is love, which imbues the entire creation. The problem is not the reality of God’s love. The problem is one of perception. The love of God can’t be seen. It can only be experienced.

“For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”—Romans 8: 38-39

We are inclined to differentiate between the physical and the spiritual. The implication of this view is that the physical and the spiritual dimensions are different and can be isolated from each other. The question must be, “how is it possible to extricate what enlivens us from the vehicle that contains life?” Forget about labels. Set aside how precisely spirit and mind are distinctly different and just considers the indivisible nature of spirit and body.

A body with no spirit would be a zombie and a spirit without a body would be a ghost. The Bible teaches that God is the animating aspect of us. Buddhism teaches that it is the universal mind. Neither the mind nor God can be conceptually grasped. They may be the same thing with different labels. Whatever label we choose makes no difference but what does make a difference is the characteristics of what arises from both, which is unconditional love (agape in the case of Christian thought, and compassion in the case of Buddhist thought).

Removing even these labels leaves us with the identical character of both: the inseparable nature of God’s love. The Buddhist explanation is preferable because it deals more directly with the inseparable nature between the spiritual and the physical, the real, and the unreal. In essence, the Buddhist understanding is that what we ordinarily consider real is a mistaken conclusion based on the perceptible nature of form, which can be seen. All forms can be seen. Nothing spiritual can be seen. Form, as Paul says, is temporary, but God’s love is eternal, yet can’t be seen (only experienced).

The Buddhist language uses the dimensions of “form” and “emptiness” in place of “seen” and “unseen” but the meaning is nearly identical. Here is where the majesty and ultimate saving power takes place. The Buddhist perspective says that these two: “form” and “emptiness” are not two. They are one single, indivisible matter, just as up and down are inseparable, just as we are inseparable from God’s love. Nothing can… “separate us from the love of God.”

Emptiness is the mirror opposite from matter just as up is the mirror opposite from down. Emptiness is 100% spiritual yet it can’t be perceived or measured. It is whole and complete. It is like space: everywhere and unseen but contains everything perceptible. Emptiness is neither empty nor changing. Emptiness doesn’t move and has no perceptible characteristics. Emptiness is our spiritual core. It is what makes us conscious, sentient beings. Emptiness is also subject to dependent origination, which means that emptiness is also empty and binds it to form.

Emptiness, albeit unseen is whole, complete, and perfect already, and is the unseen part of you and me. The union can’t be broken just like the up/down union can’t be broken. If we tried to do away with one side, the other side would cease to exist. Sometimes this form/emptiness arrangement goes by the handles of conditional/unconditional. The conditional part is divided between polar opposites and subject to cause and effect. The unconditional part is unified and not subject to anything. Conditions change. Unconditional matters are fixed and these two require each other.

The solution for all of us is to understand three things:

1. When we attach our self-worth to what is seen (but temporary), we are setting ourselves up for eventual heartache because these things pass away.
2. When we identify ourselves with what is spiritually eternal (God’s love) we realize a lasting sense of peace and stability that can’t be shaken.
3. These two—the seen and the unseen, are two parts of the same thing but only one part is absolutely real (the love of God). The other part is relatively real. Reality is relative and absolute, conditional, and unconditional.

Nagarjuna explained this relationship in the following way:

“The Buddha’s teaching of the Dharma is based on two truths: a truth of worldly convention and an ultimate truth. Those who do not understand the distinction drawn between these two truths do not understand the Buddha’s profound truth. Without a foundation in the conventional truth the significance of the ultimate cannot be taught. Without understanding the significance of the ultimate, liberation is not achieved.”— The Mūlamadhyamakakārikā, (Fundamental Verses on the Middle Way), Nagarjuna

We are both the indivisible union of matter and spirit and the task of life is to work to realize the integration of these two but never question the inseparable nature of God’s love. How do we integrate? By being the agent of God’s love, first by accepting ourselves as the channel of divinity and then through action. We are the body of Christ and if Christ remains an intellectual abstraction instead of an indwelling reality, then there is no means of spreading God’s love and we are all doomed to rely solely on what passes away. Either God is real or not and there is an easy way to find out: Let go of ideas and start living a life of giving.

The presence (albeit unseen) is made evident through how we live our lives. It is what we produce, not what we say, that proves our divine nature. “You will recognize them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorn-bushes or figs from thistles?” And how is that evidence understood? “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.” We create our own realities by being the agent of spiritual expression, either for good or for evil.

The razors edge.

“Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” Matthew 7:13-14

Everyone learns about the easy and the hard way. It is easy to follow in the footsteps of friends, associates, and even family members who take shortcuts and chart a course into lives of luxury that seem to assure minimal risk and maximum comfort. It is likewise hard to choose a path less traveled that is awash with adversity, rejection, and leads through that narrow gate to the fullness of life. While blinded by clouds of uncertainty it is common to rush back through the broad gate to familiar but thin relationships. Charting a path through the unknown is what trailblazers have always accepted; it goes with the territory.

That overview easy to say and difficult to sustain. Max Cleland wrote his now-famous Strong at the Broken Places: The story of extraordinary overcoming that emerged from his tragedy. Cleland served in the United States Army during the Vietnam War and attained the rank of Captain. He was awarded the Silver Star and the Bronze Star for valorous action in combat, including during the Battle of Khe Sanh. 

On April 8, 1968, with a month left in his tour, Cleland was ordered to set up a radio relay station on a nearby hill. A helicopter flew him and two soldiers to the treeless top of Hill 471, east of Khe Sanh. When the helicopter landed, Cleland jumped out, followed by the two soldiers. They ducked beneath the rotors and turned to watch the liftoff. Cleland reached down to pick up a grenade he believed had popped off his flak jacket. It exploded and the blast slammed him backward, shredding both legs and one arm. Due to the severity of his injuries, doctors amputated both of Cleland’s legs above the knee and his right forearm. He was 25 years old. That was 48 years ago and I, along with thousands of others who served, have lived with emotional scars that run deep resulting from terrors of war.

What we seem to not understand is that we don’t always choose the narrow path. Often times it is thrust upon us and we have little choice but to struggle to overcome or succumb to the crush of adversity. Dying quickly can be much more attractive than dying inch by inch until there is no more energy or desire left to live. 

The latter may not seem desirable but in truth, the struggle to reach through and beyond the crush is what builds character, empathy, and compassion. No one can pretend to wear another’s clothing of horror and struggle to endure. Each of us must travel this lonely path, whether thrust upon us or not.

It is paradoxical that every parent wants to spare their children hardship and many succeed, yet this often turns out to be a shallow and fruitless accomplishment that leaves young people with a thin illusion of superiority and little compassion or understanding for the plights of the less fortunate. 

How often it seems that people become empathetic only when adversity strikes one of their family members. Then the tables turn suddenly and the plight of others struck in similar fashion registers as a matter that affects them personally. What we have yet to learn is that every human being is someone’s child and they are our child as well. This may not seem evident but no one is an island. We are on earth to learn this vital lesson and more times than not, the path to knowledge runs along the razor’s edge.

Monkey see, monkey do.

For a long time, the message that loving our neighbors and turning the other cheek has caused some to digest that message and put it into action while others have responded with disbelief and rejection. 

It turns out that we do indeed have a profound effect amongst our fellow humans both by what we say, either through words, body language, or action. We’ve captured this admonishment with a catchphrase: “What goes around comes around.”

When my daughter was a child, I read a story called “Pig will and Pig won’t.” The story is what you’d imagine: One little piggy had a positive attitude, and the other didn’t. She loved having that story read to her, and I loved reading it. It wasn’t a Pollyanna story but a practical one. As she grew, she retained that message and became a first-class doer of good deeds affecting many with her “we can do it together” spirit.

She is now an adult and has continued with her positive attitude and affected the attitudes and perspectives of thousands with her Can Do spirit. You can taste a sample of what she puts out by going to her blog, The Intensional Life. 

The way we rear our children—either for the bad or good—is carried throughout life, and our legacy is passed on. Not only is there a meaningful social, political, and spiritual impact of this Can Do attitude, there is also a scientific basis for the ability to affect others. 

There is a part of our brain that perceives and reflects the mood, words, and deeds. That ability is based on a unique set of neurons called “mirror neurons” With such a prevailing state of fear and despair, it is good to know that even one smile in the dark can light your world and mine. Monkey see monkey do.

For the love or money.

Choosing money or love has been a perpetual theme throughout human history. The presumption of the former choice is that if you have money, love will follow. 

A rare few ever realize the fallacy of that presumption. I’m thankful that I am one of those. I can say that only because I have lived through both times of abundant wealth and grinding poverty, and have been fortunate enough to also experience true love.

In 1964 Paul McCartney captured that truth when he wrote, and the Beatles recorded, “Can’tBuy Me Love.”  That year the recording hit #1 on the top 100, and stayed there for five consecutive weeks. It was exceeded only by “I Want To Hold Your Hand” (at seven weeks) and “Hey Jude” at nine weeks. To date, according to Rolling Stone Magazine “Can’t Buy Me Love” ranks #289 on their list of the 500 Greatest Songs of All Time. When interviewed McCartney said: “The idea behind it was that all these material possessions are all very well, but they won’t buy me what I really want.”

The significance of that popularity is a reflection of what I and everyone else wants: To truly love and be truly loved—the rarest of all treasures that no amount of money can ever buy. Before you go to sleep at night when you lie in bed next to someone you love deeply, and who feels the same toward you, then only do you know what counts and it isn’t money.

In our world today that truth seems to get lost beneath the rush to make and hold onto money. Might that choice be due to the thought that nobody really believes that true love is within their realm of possibility? I don’t know but I do know that when true love comes your way you’ll do virtually anything to cherish it and hold on. Money will come and go, as everything else does but when love comes your way, if it is true, it will last forever and warm your soul in ways that nothing else does. And then you’ll learn something else extraordinarily important: Love coming your way is the result of love going out of you to another.

It’s the greatest of all feedback loops—What goes out comes around: a truth of the Buddha as well as Jesus. If you want to boil the essence of the New Testament down to a single statement, it would be this: Agape love—an unconditional love that transcends and persists regardless of circumstance. To the ancient Greeks, this form of love could only come from God since it is pure, eternal and the secret to all happiness. “Agape Love” occurs only in the New Testament and in essence means love beyond conditions, of any kind—No strings attached and the proof of this kind of love is that it lasts. Money blows away with the wind but true love is eternal.

The Second Step

Nothing in return.

The second step along the Eight-fold Path is Right Intentions. The principle of selflessness among religious traditions is universal but has special significance within Buddhism, given the central focus on the non-self/Self paradigm arising from interdependent origination. Throughout Buddhist sutras, there is a continuous thread contrasting manifestations of the ego with acts of charity arising from the purity of unobstructed manifestations from the Self/Buddha-Nature.

Defilements, delusions, and obscurations are seen as impediments to charity's free-flow. It is one thing to imagine doing good works from a moral correctness perspective. It is a very different thing to act in charity through interdependence. Love is not what you say. Love is what you do. It is the ego’s nature to talk a good deal but not follow through unconditionally. One functions as the “keeper” of one’s brother in the first case. In the second case, one functions “as one’s brother.” The ego takes great pride in performing for the crowd and expects a responsive reward. A purely selfless act has a built-in reward. There is no genuine love when emanating from the ego. I discovered the following (anonymous), which sums this up nicely: 

“When you give and expect a return, that’s an investment. But when you give and expect nothing in return, that’s pure, unattached love.”

The difference between these two views was expressed by the eighth-century Buddhist monk Shantideva, author of A Guide to the Bodhisattva’s Way of Life—a nine-hundred-verse poem credited to Nagarjuna. He said:

“When I act for the sake of others,

No amazement or conceit arises.

Just like feeding myself,

I hope for nothing in return.”

This view was echoed by the Golden Rule spoken by Jesus in the 7th chapter of Matthew, “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you...” The distinction lies in the perspective that there is a difference between oneself and others, disputed in Buddhism.

When Bodhidharma went from India to China, Emperor Liang was welcomed. The emperor asked him, “What merit have I gained since I built so many temples, erected so many pagodas, made so many offerings to Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, and did numerous other virtuous deeds?” 

Bodhidharma’s reply greatly disappointed Emperor Liang. Bodhidharma said, “Your Majesty, there is none whatsoever. You have gained no merit. What you have done produces only worldly rewards, that is, good fortune, great power, or great wealth in your future lives, but you will still be wandering around in samsara.”

On the other side of the world, another such teaching was established—“Be careful not to do your ‘acts of righteousness’ before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. So when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.” 

This second teaching was conveyed by Jesus and is found in the 6th chapter of Matthew. The message is the same—True charity is selfless. On the other hand, phony charity expects a return or some gain to accrue from works, and this is a subtle form of attachment linking action with results that keeps the giver locked in the vise of karma, which, like everything else, has no intrinsic nature. 

It, too, must link to action, and action, in turn, is linked to one who acts. When there is no “one/self,” nor “other/self,” action has no meaning, thus no karma. A Buddha has no self and is thus free from all karmic attachments, in which case selfless charity becomes a completely pure expression of giving and receiving. At the level of our True Nature, we are all Buddhas.