If one lacks merit, it is simply impossible to sustain spiritual practice. Everyone knows that they need to practice, and on the surface it may seem that everyone is practicing. But in reality, without sufficient merit, practice cannot be maintained at all.
On the one hand, we desperately crave merit. The moment words like “merit” or “karmic reward” are mentioned, we immediately assume they will bring us all kinds of benefits. Yet on the other hand, we have no real understanding of how merit is actually accumulated. For example, when we hear that a certain day is especially auspicious, we start planning to do this or that, calculating in our minds: “If I wash just one bowl on that day, the merit will equal washing ten thousand bowls on an ordinary day.” This is nothing but an opportunistic mentality—like stock speculation—fantasizing about huge returns from minimal investment. Such an attitude is fundamentally flawed. As a result, while we are eagerly trying to accumulate merit, we simultaneously have no idea how to do so in a genuine and effective way.
What is the genuine way of accumulating merit? It is to offer oneself completely, without seeking anything in return. As the Diamond Sutra teaches:“Subhuti, a bodhisattva should practice generosity without attachment—that is, without clinging to form, sound, smell, taste, touch, or dharmas. Subhuti, a bodhisattva should thus practice generosity without attachment to appearances.” Only by practicing generosity in this way—not by craving merit for one’s own benefit—can one truly accumulate merit.“And why? Subhuti, the merit of a bodhisattva who gives without attachment to signs is immeasurable.”
If you do not accumulate merit, there is simply no way to carry out genuine practice. Your mind unconsciously keeps reinforcing this sense of “I” as an individual, and may even use so-called “merit” to armor and protect it. Practicing in this way, you will never experience the Dharma-nature of selflessness (dharmatā), and liberation will remain forever out of reach. Everyone must truly understand this. Otherwise, all you will know is that “doing this on that day is especially auspicious,” or “doing that on another day brings incredible merit,” yet when the time comes to actually make offerings and practice generosity in accordance with the Dharma and reason, you suddenly become unwilling to do so.
Of course, at the level of ordinary beings like us, we are nowhere near capable of making offerings such as giving one’s own hands, feet, or even brain and marrow, as bodhisattvas do. And honestly—what would anyone want your brain for anyway? The human brain thinks far too much; the texture is hardly appealing. Even in hotpot it’s no match for pig brain (just joking). That said, there is a way it can become more “palatable”: when human brain and blood are placed into a skull cup (kapāla), it somehow becomes acceptable to “consume.” But such an extraordinarily sublime form of offering is something we are even less capable of, because we simply cannot perceive it as Dharma-nature (dharmatā).
Even though we are not yet able to do this, we must gradually learn and understand its underlying principles. Otherwise, if we do not know how to accumulate merit, nothing can truly be practiced: we will be unable to sustain the recitation of the Buddha’s name, experiential dharma joy will not arise, and rebirth in the Pure Land will be out of the question.
If what each of us keeps thinking about, again and again, is how to “take advantage ,” then what are we even practicing for? Think carefully: even if you try to take advantage, how much advantage could you possibly take? In this world, is there really any “bargain” that can be taken for free? In every sip and every bite, nothing falls outside prior causes and conditions; in every drop of water and every grain of rice, all arise from cause-and-effect. No one can truly profit at others’ expense.
Why do the Six Pāramitās of a bodhisattva begin with generosity? Because one must first accumulate sufficient merit; otherwise, the later practices—ethical discipline and patience—cannot truly be upheld or done well, let alone the subsequent perfections of diligence, meditative concentration, and wisdom. Yet the moment generosity is mentioned, everyone falls silent, and the heart sinks—why is that? Because the mind is fundamentally unwilling to give. It habitually protects itself and instinctively safeguards its own interests without reflection. But practice itself is precisely about breaking through and dismantling this kind of ingrained tendencies.
As Buddhist practitioners, we should repeatedly contemplate these principles, accept them deeply with genuine faith, and earnestly accumulate merit while generating bodhicitta—the aspiration to attain enlightenment for the benefit of all sentient beings.
This article is a preliminary translation draft and has not yet been reviewed or proofread by the speaker.
