Three Small Things

The afternoon sun slanted through the wide glass windows of the meeting room, casting a soft golden glow over the bowed heads below. The murmuring gradually faded into silence as the teacher stepped onto the platform and pressed his palms together in a bow. He paused, looking out at the crowd—faces still carrying a trace of the day's dust, eyes slightly glazed after a long day of work. Then he began, his voice low and unhurried, like pouring warm water drop by drop into the hearts of his listeners.

"You all know," he said, "there was once an employer. She was wealthy, but wealthy in a way entirely different from other employers. She did not live according to her own whims. She went searching for the principles by which to live."

And so the story began.

Ms. Non—that was the employer's name—managed a seafood company. Hundreds of employees sweated every day in the workshops, processing and packaging. To many other business owners, they were merely numbers in a profit equation: Is this month's payroll too high or too low? Did this quarter's profits rise or fall? But to Ms. Non, they were human beings with minds, with hearts, with families waiting for them at home.

"She was deeply concerned," the teacher recounted, "about the lives of each and every person. Concerned about them materially and spiritually. Because she understood that human value lies in the spirit, not in material things."

A small story was opened to illustrate this. Imagine three people: a company director, a department manager, and an ordinary worker. By social standing, they occupy three different levels. But if, after work, that worker goes home, washes up cleanly, and then goes to the temple to venerate the Buddha, chant sutras, sit in meditation, and do good deeds—living a life with spiritual depth—then that person's spiritual value may exceed even that of a director who knows only indulgence. "Be careful," the teacher emphasized, "lest your spiritual value be surpassed by that of a worker."

This was exactly what Ms. Non understood. She wanted her employees not only to be materially stable but also to elevate their spiritual value. And the solution she chose was the Buddha's teachings (Dharma)—because "the Buddha's way gives us noble spiritual value." The teacher went on to speak of the greatness of the Dharma, from philosophy to cosmology, noting that the Buddhist scriptures spoke of countless worlds in the universe thousands of years before modern science discovered them. But most important was this: whoever walks the path of the Dharma has their value elevated immediately. Whether a street sweeper or someone of the greatest wealth and rank.

Then the teacher turned to his main theme—"Just this much is enough." Three small things, yet enough to live a life of peace and joy.

The first thing: just a little health.

He recounted a meeting from a few days before. At a Buddhist devotee's home, he saw a man with silver hair, silver eyebrows, and a fully silver beard. When asked, it turned out the man was three years younger than him. Yet in appearance, he looked far older.

"I was curious too," the teacher said. "I wanted to ask what kind of indulgent living had brought him to such a state, but I let it be. Still, I understood one thing: when people indulge too much, they naturally age faster and their health declines."

"Just a little health is enough," he stressed, "to live, to work, to provide for your family. Because we still have wives, husbands, children, and aging parents who need our care. Without health, we become a burden to our families instead."

And there, in the very gaze of our spouse and children when we walk through the door—a look of love and respect—there lies happiness. And where does that happiness come from? From health. The health that allows us to work, to contribute, to be the pillar of the family.

The second thing: just a stable job.

"Many people say, 'I won't do this job, I won't do that job,'" the teacher said, his voice growing more serious. "That attitude is a betrayal of heaven and earth. Heaven and earth have already given you this job. Love the work you have."

He told of his own disciple. Upon receiving full monastic ordination, the disciple imagined he would be assigned to write books or compose poetry. In reality, his first task was cleaning the toilets, carrying buckets of waste from the latrines out to the fields. His hands and feet were filthy, the smell rising around him. But he worked with devotion, loving every swish of the broom, finding happiness in every stroke.

"Remember," the teacher told the crowd of workers, "love the work you do, rather than doing only the work you love. Whatever work comes to you is good. Because it is a condition (dependent origation)."

And here, they were more fortunate than many. They had an employer who not only calculated profits and losses, but saw them as lovable, precious human beings. That employer had invited the teacher to give a dharma talk and was preparing to build a place of worship for the Buddha within the company. "You won't find this anywhere else," the teacher said. "Other employers only calculate profit and loss with you. Then you feel like an object. It creates psychological pressure."

But here, Ms. Non regarded them as bearers of great human value. And the teacher expressed his hope that perhaps, within this very crowd, someone would one day rise to become an employer. After all, Ms. Non herself had once been a worker. If that day comes, remember this lesson: never treat a human being as an object in a business equation.

The third thing, and the last: just a little love in your heart.

"To live without loving is a sorrowful thing," the teacher said, his voice softening. He was not asking everyone to attain the boundless love the Buddha taught—loving all sentient beings, loving each falling leaf, the water spinach creeping along the roadside, the sunlight sparkling through gaps in the leaves. Today, he asked only for a tiny bit.

First, love your own family. "Think of your family, and do nothing wrong." He told of a case in Binh Phuoc, where a son killed his entire family of six. When the police asked him, "When you killed them, did you think of your parents?" he bowed his head at once. And at home, his parents had dashed themselves against the wall in despair. They could not go on living with a child like that.

"Your family's honor rests within your own life," the teacher said. "Do not be reckless, do not be careless. Do not curse or use vulgar words. Live with dignity, and your family's name will be fragrant because of it."

Second, love everything around you in life, gently: friends, neighbors, the trees, the grass, the sunlight, the breeze, a beautiful piece of music.

And third, he "earnestly, humbly, and hopefully" asked everyone—please have a little love for your homeland. "The homeland is vast, while our two hands are small," the teacher said. "I am not asking you to sacrifice your lives to defend the country. I ask only a little. In your heart, keep a small love for your homeland. Because that is an indispensable dignity of a human being."

He explained: even as ordinary workers, somewhere deep inside, a corner of the heart must hold love for one's homeland. And when you have that love, your value increases, your life becomes more meaningful, more steady, more confident. That is cause and effect (karmic law). As for those who hold no love for their homeland, deep down they will feel their own existence is insignificant.

Finally, the teacher also asked for a little love for humanity. The concept of humanity, of the world, of this entire planet—it is so vast compared to our small lives. Many of us may never leave our own province in a lifetime. But let it flicker in the heart all the same—he asked for just a little.

The sunlight had faded. The meeting room was bathed in pale lamplight. The faces of the workers were silent, their eyes slightly bright—as if they had just recognized something simple that had long been overlooked. Just health, work, and love in the heart. Just this much is enough.

## The Meaning of the Story

Through three small but essential things—health, stable work, and love in the heart—the teacher wished to remind us that a peaceful and joyful life does not require luxuries. Health allows us to work and become the pillar of our family; a stable job, approached with the attitude of "loving the work we do," helps us live in harmony with heaven and earth; and love—from family, to community, to country, and to humanity—creates the dignity and meaning of a life. In particular, the story of the kind employer like Ms. Non emphasizes the importance of respecting and elevating the spiritual value of workers, seeing them as human beings rather than objects in a business equation.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thich Chan Quang