Learning Compassion Through Everyday Moments

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Thank you to everyone who participated in last week’s sushi workshop!

Our sushi workshop was held after the Nirvana Day Service in February. Thank you to everyone who partici­pated! I hope you all enjoyed it. I didn’t make sushi myself, but I certainly had fun watching everyone create different types of sushi.

Actually, I barely slept the Saturday night before. It was Kuni’s first time demonstrating sushi-making in front of peo­ple. Even though I knew Linda and Kimiaki would be there to support him, I couldn’t help worrying—would Kuni be too nervous? Would his demonstration go smoothly?

It reminded me of how parents must feel before their child’s dance recital—that mix of confidence in their abili­ties and nervousness about their performance.

I had another sleepless night this week—on Wednesday, before Kuni’s driving test on Thursday. As a licensed driver, I went with him to the DMV. The night before, I worried about everything: Was he properly prepared? Did he understand all the traffic rules? Could he communicate effectively with the examiner in English? What important advice should I give him from my own experience with the test?

When someone matters to you, you can never seem to worry enough. You want to support them as much as possible, but you can’t take the test for them, which actually made me worry even more.

This experience reminds me of how Amida Buddha cares for each of us. As I often mention, Amida Buddha embodies great compassion and wisdom working together. Because the Buddha has achieved enlightenment, they can see each person’s suffering through the lens of wisdom, and moved by compassion, they continuously work to free us from that suffering.

In English, we use the word “compassion” to describe this Buddhist care, but in ancient India where Buddhism began, two different words were used: “Maitri” and “Karuna.”

Maitri is pure “loving kindness.” Unlike human friendship or love directed at specific people, this is uncondi­tional love and care for all living beings, without expecting anything in return.

Karuna means “sympathetic or empathetic care.” The word’s origin relates to “groaning”—suggesting that only those who have experienced deep suffering can truly understand others’ pain. When they hear others’ groans of pain, they naturally want to help free them from suffering.

In other words, the Buddha’s compassion combines these aspects: “I take your pain as my own, and without expecting anything in return, I will do everything possible to free you from this suffering and help you find true happiness.”

In Buddhism, compassion is described as the Buddha’s heart because we humans tend to expect something in return and often can’t truly feel others’ sorrow.

I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about Kuni’s sushi demonstration and driving test. But thinking about the Buddha’s compassion made me realize how far my concern for Kuni falls short of true compassion.

With Kuni’s permission, I can share that he failed his driving test. The examiner noted two critical errors. I had failed once, too, so I thought it wasn’t a big deal.

But Kuni was upset about failing. He had his own view of his driving, and even though he knew the result wouldn’t change, he had trouble accepting it.

I should have listened and shown empathy by saying things like “I understand,” “That was an unfair route,” or “Of course you’re disappointed.” Instead, I responded with logic: “That was in the handbook,” “You tend to miss that kind of thing,” and “Actually, the examiner was being helpful by explaining your errors thoroughly.”

The night before Kuni’s test, my sleeplessness came basically from genuine concern—I remembered my own test anxiety and wanted to spare him that experience. But I also doubted whether he was taking the test seriously enough. When he failed, I caught myself feeling somewhat vindicated, wanting to prove that I had been right all along.

While I thought I was being caring towards Kuni, my desire to prove myself right was also present. Karuna, as I mentioned, is the compassionate desire to relieve others’ suffering. But what I actually felt was the thought that “you brought this on yourself.”

The Buddha’s compassion is difficult to fully com­prehend because it doesn’t exist in the human world. And while karuna is the desire to remove suffering, it doesn’t mean our individual sufferings simply disap­pear. However, having someone who shares our pain can bring us comfort.

Let me share a story about a nine-year-old girl from Meridian Elementary School in Broomfield, Colorado.

One student, Marlee Pack, had to miss several weeks of school for chemotherapy. The treatment caused her to lose her hair. When Marlee returned to school, dozens of students took action to support her. They shaved their heads! At a school assembly called “Be Bold, Be Brave, Go Bald,” around 80 students, teachers, and parents shaved their heads.

Her best friend, Cameron McLaughlin, led this ini­tiative. Cameron, who had beautiful curly hair, cried when she got her head shaved—not from sadness about losing her hair, but from joy at being able to sup­port Marlee.

Marlee said, “I didn’t think that many people would shave their heads, but I feel good about going back to school and not being the only bald one.” She added, “It’s just amazing because they all shaved their heads for me. I just want to say thank you.”

Of course, only Marlee truly knows the depth of her illness’s pain. Still, having others who try to share your sorrow is incredibly reassuring.

There is a poem by Misuzu Kaneko called “When I Am Lonely”:

When I am lonely, No one else knows.

When I am lonely, My friends smile at me.

When I am lonely, My mother is kind.

When I am lonely, The Buddha is lonely, too.

The Contemplation Sutra teaches us:

“The Buddhas’ mind is great compassion. It is with this unconditional compassion that they embrace all beings.”

Amida Buddha’s unconditional compassion means they see everyone equally, taking our sorrows as their own and our joys as their own.

When we face difficulties, feeling alone in our suf­fering can leave us crying in isolation. However, when we hear the Nembutsu—Namu Amida Butsu—we real­ize there is the Buddha who knows and shares our sor­row. We find comfort in knowing “I’m not alone. There is the Buddha who carries my sadness.” This is the teaching of Jodo Shinshu.

Compared to Marlee’s illness, Kuni’s driving test failure might seem minor. Yet even with such a small pain, I failed to share in it.

Amida Buddha’s heart embraces me as I am—someone who tends to think self-centeredly and often fails to truly connect with others. The Buddha teaches us that precisely because we live different lives, it’s important to try to understand each other’s feelings.

This was revealed to us by Shinran Shonin.

While we can never perfectly empathize with oth­ers, each time we say or hear the Nembutsu, we can pause to reflect on our actions. Through this reflection, we can strive to be more mindful in our interactions with those we encounter.

Namo Amida Butsu

**Special Thanks** to Chiba Restaurant for generously providing such delicious ingredients for our workshop!

(Update: One month later, Kuni passed his driving test on his second attempt! Hooray!)