Highest Virtue and Empty Giving
The lecture begins by reviewing the *Diamond Sutra* teaching on giving without attachment. If one practices generosity without clinging to appearances, then one’s blessings and merit cannot be measured.
Lü Chunyang is then quoted as distinguishing two kinds of “merit” or “blessing.” One is ordinary, conditioned blessing—the kind that brings worldly or heavenly reward. The other is the deeper, enduring merit that comes from genuine spiritual practice.
The lecturer explains that charity done with attachment to form may indeed produce blessing, even heavenly blessing, but it is still limited. He uses the image of shooting an arrow into the sky: no matter how strong the shot, the arrow eventually falls. In the same way, reward based on form and expectation is temporary and cannot free one from cyclic return.
So the main distinction is this: - **Blessing (福德)** comes from good acts still tied to appearances and reward. - **True merit (功德)** comes from non-attached action.
This is why, he says, the *Platform Sutra* distinguishes blessing from merit. If the act still dwells in form—sound, sight, sensation, recognition—then it remains blessing. Only non-attached giving becomes true merit.
The lecture now turns formally to Chapter 38 and asks what “highest virtue” means.
The answer given here is straightforward: **highest virtue is giving without attachment**. An ordinary person gives in order to gain blessing; that is attached giving, and when the blessing is exhausted, one still remains within rebirth. But when a bodhisattva gives with a pure mind for the benefit of beings, without clinging to appearances, that is true merit.
The lecturer says this is why the Buddha, out of compassion for later generations, sometimes spoke of “immeasurable blessing”: people in degenerate times are so attached to the six sense-objects—form, sound, smell, taste, touch, and mental objects—that they can hardly be guided directly into the deeper teaching. So provisional language about blessing may be used to encourage them.
But the deeper point remains unchanged: seeking blessing is not yet the same as cultivating merit. Highest virtue begins where self-seeking falls away.
Lü Chunyang’s framework is then stated more sharply: - attached giving is **lower virtue**; - unattached giving is **higher virtue**.
From there the lecturer brings in a Confucian comparison: the *xiangyuan* (鄉原), the “village worthy” or “reputable local good man,” whom Confucius calls “a thief of virtue.” Why? Because such a person outwardly blends in with society, appears agreeable and morally respectable, and wins praise—but the virtue is not genuine.
Dictionary and classical notes are cited to explain that this kind of goodness is often borrowed, assumed, or performed. People may praise such a person as upright and charitable, yet the inner motive is hidden. So the lecture shifts from Buddhist terminology into a Confucian warning about counterfeit moral respectability.
The lecturer develops the idea of the “village worthy” through concrete examples. A person may raise charitable funds, keep part for himself, and still be praised by society because outwardly he appears to be doing good. The lecturer rejects this completely: if one receives a million for charity, the full million should be used for charity.
He stresses that the “village worthy” is dangerous precisely because he fits the world so well. He moves with corrupt customs, adapts himself to a compromised society, and is praised as good. But the praise is misleading.
Several local stories are used to illustrate this pattern: respected community workers, charity organizers, or public benefactors who were eventually exposed as self-serving or corrupt. The details are oral and somewhat damaged in the OCR, but the moral thread is clear: **using good deeds as a signboard for personal gain is not virtue**.
So in this section, “lower virtue” is not gross evil. It is simulated goodness—socially admired, inwardly compromised.
The lecture now summarizes the classical interpretation of *xiangyuan*: evil is hidden inside, while goodness is displayed outside. Such a person uses visible good to cover concealed bad, and in doing so throws moral judgment into confusion.
That is why Confucius condemns this type so strongly. The problem is not merely hypocrisy in the ordinary sense. The deeper problem is that false goodness corrupts people’s understanding of virtue itself. It trains society to admire appearances rather than sincerity.
The lecturer says that Mencius discusses this in more detail and promises to continue with that passage next time. This marks a transition in the lecture from the general concept of lower virtue into the Mencian analysis of counterfeit goodness.
In the next session the lecturer returns to Chapter 38 and explicitly aligns three ideas: - the Buddhist idea of non-attached giving, - the Daoist idea of hidden virtue, - and the Confucian critique of the *xiangyuan*.
He then reads Mencius: a whole village may call such a person good; everywhere he lives, he appears acceptable; one cannot easily point to a specific fault; outwardly he seems loyal, trustworthy, and clean. This is exactly what makes him dangerous.
The lecturer explains that such a person does good publicly but acts wrongly where advantage is involved. He may be impossible to attack on the surface, yet his whole way of life is governed by self-interest.
Mencius says Confucius hated this type because it “confuses the sprouts” of virtue—like weeds among young grain. In other words, counterfeit goodness looks so similar to the real thing that ordinary people can no longer tell the difference.
The lecture now turns directly to the opening lines of Chapter 38: **highest virtue does not cling to being virtuous; therefore it truly has virtue. Lower virtue cannot let go of virtue; therefore it has no virtue.**
Hanshan Deqing is cited to explain this. Highest virtue acts from *wuwei*—not from passivity, but from a heart without contrivance. When the work is done, the actor does not keep clutching the act, the merit, or the self-image that goes with it.
Lower virtue, by contrast, acts from intentional self-reference. It wants to be seen, praised, and credited. It performs goodness with a calculating mind and then clings to what has been done.
So “non-action” here means action without possessiveness. “Action” in the lower sense means moral behavior still driven by ego, display, and self-conscious effort.
Lü Chunyang’s explanation is similar: *wuwei* means letting things proceed naturally and doing what should be done **without a grasping mind**. The person of highest virtue acts according to the Dao, with no thought of gain.
The lecturer then contrasts this with moral action done “with sound and color”—that is, with fanfare, display, and the desire for recognition. If one gives or serves in order to be thanked, praised, applauded, or publicly honored, then the act has already become lower virtue.
He uses several examples: people giving gifts in a showy way, award recipients displaying themselves, donors who enjoy being worshiped by recipients, and public benefactors who want ceremonial gratitude. All of these, he says, reveal the difference between *acting* and *not acting* in the Laozi’s sense.
The practical distinction is simple: - if praise comes and one remains unconcerned, that is closer to higher virtue; - if one seeks the praise, stages the scene, or enjoys being elevated by it, that is lower virtue.
The lecturer then tells a more careful story about anonymous charity. A certain elderly woman regularly gave money to a hospital for emergency patients while trying to remain unknown. He notes, however, that complete namelessness can also create practical problems if dishonest intermediaries handle the funds.
So the point is not theatrical anonymity for its own sake, but **non-attachment**. One may leave one’s name when needed for proper handling, yet still have no wish for publicity, repayment, or prestige.
This leads into the next explanation of the phrase “and so there is no deliberate doing”: the finest human goodness is still genuine only when it is free of self-display and self-claim.
The *Laozi yishu* is then used to distinguish higher and lower forms of benevolence.
If, before doing good, one is already calculating preferences, emotional satisfaction, or reward; and if afterward one still clings to recognition, repayment, or pleasant feelings—then this is a lower form of benevolence. It is still mixed with “fishing for a name.”
The lecturer even criticizes the emotional pleasure some people take in charitable visits: if one feels pleased because needy children call one “auntie” or because recipients respond warmly, then one is still subtly feeding the self. True benevolence should grow from the thought that all parents are my parents and all children are my children—not from the enjoyment of being needed or admired.
Higher benevolence, by contrast, does not count praise or blame and does not seek return. It helps unconditionally. Whether others repay, thank, criticize, or ignore it, the heart remains unattached.
The lecture closes by returning to intention. Large donations are not necessarily great merit if they come from vast wealth and are still mixed with self-interest. What matters is not the outward amount alone, but the inward freedom of the act.
The lecturer then invokes the Buddhist phrase **“the three wheels are empty”**: there is no fixed giver, no fixed recipient, and no fixed gift. To give in this way is to act without building up a self-image around the act.
In practical terms, this means: - do the good and let it go; - do not keep repeating it to others; - do not wait for repayment; - do not make goodness into an investment in future honor.
That, for this lecture, is the heart of Chapter 38’s opening contrast between highest and lower virtue. The session then ends.
This literal version consolidates the lecture’s English material into continuous notes, keeping close to the spoken sequence while preserving explanatory detail.