Some say people today are so stingy. They can’t even spare a smile, instead offering frowns that make them seem repulsive. We tend to focus all our thoughts on what we expect to “gain,” constantly calculating in our minds: What benefits will we get from doing this? What rewards can we enjoy? Yet we rarely invest our thoughts in the act of “genuine and joyful giving.”
Do we ever consider whether our actions might make things easier for others? Could we make things easier for them? But if we are unwilling to give to others, what right do we have to demand that others give to us? Such is the following story of a devout believer, a beggar, and a dog.
The devout believer and the beggar
On South Mountain stands a temple enshrining a statue of the Buddha. Legend has it that this Buddha is mighty. As long as devotees make sincere and righteous wishes, the Buddha will show great compassion and help them fulfill their dreams. One devotee heard about this. To demonstrate his devotion, he personally carried three offerings on his back during the Buddha’s birthday. Step by step, he climbed up South Mountain, preparing to make a wish to the Buddha on his birthday.
He climbed over mountain after mountain. When drenched in sweat, he feared losing his reverence and refused to set down the offerings for even a moment’s rest. When utterly exhausted, he dreaded missing the birthday hour and refused to slow his pace or pause.
Upon reaching the temple, the devout believer reverently placed his offerings on the altar, knelt with a thud, and pressed his palms together in prayer: “O powerful Buddha. For ten years, I’ve pursued scholarly honors, yet my wishes remain unfulfilled. Your divine power is boundless — for the sake of my devotion, grant me success on this year’s imperial examinations.” After finishing his earnest prayer, the devotee gathered his offerings and prepared to leave.
As he stepped out of the temple entrance, he saw a beggar holding out his hand, pleading, “Generous benefactor, I’ve gone hungry for three days and nights. Have mercy on me — please give me some of your offerings to ease my hunger.” Seeing the beggar’s filthy appearance, the devotee waved him away with disgust, saying, “Go! Go! You’re ragged and torn — don’t soil my offerings. I’m taking these home for my wife and children to eat. There’s no share for you here.”
The beggar kept bowing his head and pleading, “Generous benefactor, I’m nearly starved to death. Just a tiny bit of the offerings would suffice. Please save me.” Fearing the beggar might snatch his offerings, the devotee quickly hoisted them onto his shoulders and fled down the mountain without looking back.
Exhausted from hunger, the beggar curled up beside the temple, wrapped in his only tattered blanket. Night deepened, and the cold grew more intense. The beggar wrapped his shivering body tightly in the threadbare blanket. Suddenly, a mangy dog covered in festering sores appeared from nowhere. Limping, it approached the beggar, grabbed a corner of the blanket, and pulled it over its own pus-covered body. It snuggled close to the beggar for warmth. The dog’s sores burst, its pus staining the beggar’s blanket, leaving it foul-smelling and sticky.
The beggar kicked the dog angrily, shouting: “Get out! Get out! Look at you, covered in pus and sores. Don’t dirty my blanket. There’s no place for you here.” Unable to bear the pain, the puppy slowly trotted away, its eyes brimming with tears. That very night, it froze to death by the temple gate.
The next day, though the beggar survived the cold with his blanket, he starved to death from lack of food.
Those unwilling to give cannot receive
Half a year later, the devout believer traveled to the capital to sit for the imperial examinations and failed once again. Furious, he stormed up South Mountain and complained to the Buddha: “What nonsense about your boundless divine power. It’s all a lie. If you were truly efficacious, why couldn’t you even help me pass a simple exam? Why must I fail miserably?”
The Buddha produced the examination roster and asked the devotee, “Why should I have helped you?” The devotee retorted, “I carried my offerings up the mountain with utmost devotion, rushing to reach the temple before your birthday without resting for a moment. For this sincerity alone, you should have assisted me.”
The Buddha summoned the beggar’s spirit, who wailed loudly at the devotee: “I only asked you for a little offering to fill my stomach, yet you refused. You had not even a shred of compassion. Why should the Buddha help you? But Buddha, you are truly cruel. You would rather watch me starve to death than give me a morsel to eat. Have you no compassion at all?”
The Buddha then summoned the dog’s spirit. Barking at the beggar, it cried, “I only asked to curl beside your blanket, to share its warmth — a mere trifle to you. Yet you refused. Why should believers give to you? Why should the Buddha show you mercy?”
Finally, the Buddha pointed at the believer and said, “Granting you success in the imperial examinations is but a flick of my wrist. Pointing at the beggar, he added,” Ensuring you have ample food and clothing is likewise a mere flick of my wrist. Yet you refuse to extend even the slightest help within your power to those in need. What merit do you possess that would warrant such a flick of my wrist?” With that, the Buddha tossed the believer’s list into a deep ravine, severing his ties to academic success forever.
The karmic cycle
If we refuse to lend a helping hand when we are able, what right do we have to demand help when we are in need? What we give to others ultimately returns to us. Stop dwelling on what you lose. Think about whether you possess more than others. Think about the happiness your possessions bring you.
The Bible teaches that those who lack gratitude will lose even what they possess, and those who constantly demand from others will eventually be demanded from themselves. Whether in human relationships or interactions with other beings, there is always a return. If not immediate, the karmic cycle will ensure that the consequences ultimately fall on oneself, bearing the final burden.
The Buddhas and Bodhisattvas themselves won’t come to help you; they will send people to assist you. Those who seek from us — beggars, the sick in need of funds — are actually benefactors arranged by the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas to help us sow seeds of blessings. Treat all beings kindly; treat the world kindly. Refrain from all evil and choose to be on the side of goodness. As you sow, so shall you reap. Good deeds benefit oneself; evil deeds harm oneself.
Translated by Audrey Wang and edited by Maria
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