Greed: When Enough Never Feels Like Enough

Back in 2000, our family van was getting old, with lots of miles on it, and we needed a new one. I did my research and decided to buy a Toyota Sienna minivan.

The Sienna came in three models. The top of the line was the XLE. It was sweet. It had wood-grain trim, premium stereo, alloy wheels, and an electric sliding door. The mid-level model was the LE, and it had the premium stereo, the alloy wheels, and the electric sliding door, but not the wood-grain trim. The cheapest model was the CE, and it just had the basic stereo, hubcaps, and a manual sliding door. 

We decided that we couldn’t afford the XLE or the LE, and we went with the CE, the base model. After signing the deal, I drove off the lot of the dealership in my brand-new minivan, and I was feeling good. A new car is so great. It had that new car smell, and the Sienna was way better than our old minivan. 

But as I was driving home with my new car, another new Sienna passed in the lane next to me. I could see the back of the car as it passed—it was an XLE. It had the wood-grain trim, the premium stereo, the alloy wheels, and the electric sliding door. I caught myself thinking, “Maybe I should have bought the XLE.” Then I thought to myself, “I just bought a brand-new car, and not five minutes later I’m already wishing I had a better one.”

In Buddhism, that is what we call greed. Greed isn’t limited to rich Wall Street stockbrokers or tech billionaires. Greed is within all of us. It means wanting more—a bigger house, a higher salary, a better work position, the latest computer, or a fancier car. Even if we get what we think we desire, in a short period of time we aren’t satisfied and want “just a little more.” We get our dream home but think, “If only it had one more room and the kitchen was just a bit bigger.” In my case, my sense of satisfaction lasted all of five minutes before I was thinking about the XLE. But in time, we loved that CE. I still miss it.

In Buddhism, greed is one of the three poisons, along with ignorance and anger. These powerful mental states can ruin your life, no different from drinking poison. The problem is that we’re often in denial about how these mental states are manifesting in our lives and how detrimental they are. 

Ignorant? I’m not ignorant. I am not brilliant, but I am definitely not ignorant. 

Anger? Oh, I get mad sometimes, but anger doesn’t control me. 

Greed? I’m not greedy. I am very satisfied with everything. 

Yeah, right. 

So, how do we overcome our greed, or any of the three poisons? Is there a cure, a remedy, an antidote? 

Various Buddhist traditions offer differing ways to approach this problem. Some might say you have to suppress or squash those poisons. I find that difficult, if not impossible. For example, if you are on a diet and your weakness is chocolate cake, you may say to yourself, “Don’t eat chocolate cake!” But you end up thinking of chocolate cake all the time. Does it really work to suppress or squash our desires? 

Shinran (1173–1262), who founded the Shin Buddhist tradition, of which I am a member, was acutely aware of the three poisons in his life. His approach was to see them deep within all of us. The key is not eliminating them but rather seeing them. Seeing is the first step in transcending or going beyond the three poisons. 

The first step to recovery from drug addiction or alcoholism is to admit that you are an addict. “Oh my gosh! I am an alcoholic, through and through. Look what it is doing to my life, to my family.” Seeing is the first important step to recovery. 

Years ago, I learned how drug addiction is a vivid example of the world of greed, what Buddhists call the realm of the hungry ghost. In Buddhist cosmology, beings in this realm live in a state of constant hunger and 

thirst, yet nothing can satisfy them; whatever food or drink they touch turns to fire. It is a horrendous existence to imagine, even as a metaphor. 

One day, I was at my temple office when a young man I knew from Buddhist youth activities stopped by to say hello. I hadn’t seen him since he was a teenager. He said that he had just gotten out of a rehab program. I thought that he meant he was a counselor or something there, but then he explained that he’d had a serious addiction to cocaine for years. 

I learned so much from him about drug addiction. He said that 

he had his “drug friends,” which he kept separate from his “temple friends.” He told me that over several years he’d spent more than forty thousand dollars on his addiction. He said, “I could’ve bought a fancy car, but I wasted it away on drugs.” I learned that the first time you use cocaine, the high is so intense that you want to experience it again, yet the nature of the drug is such that you can never match that first high. That’s what hooks you on the drug. 

Fortunately for this young man, his parents forced him into a rehab program, and he was able to recover. After our conversation, I had him speak to Buddhist youth groups about the dangers of drug addiction. 

The world of greed can range from a cocaine or alcohol addiction to just wanting a little bit more of this or that, like buying an XLE. The Buddha taught that dana—giving—is the antidote to greed. Generosity is the first of the six paramitas, the practices of a bodhisattva, and through it we soften our greed and attachments. 

There are four kinds of giving. The first is material giving, such as making a donation or giving a gift to someone. The second is nonmaterial giving, such as offering a friendly face, kind words, or a smile. The third is impure giving, which is to give with some thought of receiving acknowledgement or praise in return. I know a minister who has a wonderful line: “If I ever make an anonymous donation, I find that I am the first one to tell someone about it.” Finally, the fourth kind of giving is pure giving, which is giving without any expectation of acknowledgement, recognition, praise, or reward. 

I can honestly say that I have never practiced pure giving, but I have been the recipient of it. I spent five years in Japan studying Buddhism. My wife and I lived in a little apartment close to my school. One day, someone went to our landlady and paid for half a year’s rent for us. To this day, I do not know who it was. The person made our landlady promise not to disclose their identity. They just said, “The young man in your apartment building is studying to become a minister. I want to help him as he will be doing important work to share the dharma in the future.”

I cannot write a thank-you card to this person. I don’t even know who it was. All I can do is honor their wish by doing my best to share the dharma. That was my experience as a recipient of pure generosity. 

There are countless ways to practice giving in our daily lives, in big and small ways. There is more joy in giving than in receiving. It truly is an antidote to the poison of greed.

But I still think I should have bought the XLE.

This piece is an excerpt from The Antidote to Greed, Hatred & Ignorance.