Visible in This Very Life
2.3 Visible in This Very Life
The ladder of the last chapter climbed very high—up into the wisdom of a single thought. After looking at heights like that, one can hardly help wondering: is giving something far away? Does it become meaningful only after practice that deep? And the small everyday gifts we make—can they only bank on a distant future life, to be collected in the next round?
The Buddha put this matter very concretely, to a general.
The general's name was Sīha, a man of Vesālī. He came to see the Buddha, and his very first question was blunt:
"Venerable sir, is the Blessed One able to point out a fruit of giving visible in this very life?"
Not a fruit for the life to come, but one that can be verified in this present life.
The Buddha said: yes.
Four Things Visible Right Now
The Buddha counted out five things for him. The first four are all visible in this very life, right now.
First, the giver becomes dear and agreeable to many people. You give often, give gladly, and people naturally draw near to you and like you. No waiting for the next life; you can feel it now.
Second, good people associate with the giver. The good like to draw near a heart that is willing to open its hand. Around you, good people slowly gather.
Third, a good reputation spreads. "General Sīha is a man who gives, who delights in making offerings"—words like these travel through the crowd.
Fourth, whatever company you walk into, you enter self-assured and not abashed. Among warrior-nobles, among brahmins, among householders, among renunciants—you are open and at ease, and your face does not change. The Chinese canon gives this one a vivid simile—"just as the lion-king, among a herd of deer, is without fear." A person who gives freely day by day, with nothing weighing on his conscience, stands straight and sits steady wherever he goes. (The general's own name, Sīha, is the word for "lion"; on him, the simile lands with uncommon fitness.)
The fifth thing the Buddha named was this: with the breakup of the body, after death, the giver is reborn in a good destination, a heavenly world.
A General, and the Line Between Verifying and Believing
With the five things spoken, what comes next is the most moving part of the whole story.
General Sīha did not merely listen respectfully and leave it at that. Before the Buddha and the whole assembly, he turned and reported to the Buddha how things actually stood with him. He said:
Blessed One, these first four you have spoken of—being dear to people, good people drawing near, a good name, entering any company without fear—these four, I know for myself; it is not because I heard them from you that I believe them. I have long been a giver. I have seen with my own eyes that people hold me dear; I have felt in my own person what it is to walk into any company without flinching. These four, I have verified myself.
Only the fifth—rebirth in heaven after death—of this he said: this one I do not know; this one I accept on faith in you.
The Buddha heard him, and answered with a single sentence, spoken twice:
"So it is, Sīha; so it is, Sīha."
A Very Clean Line
The general's words and the Buddha's confirmation, taken together, draw a line that matters greatly and is very clean.
The fruits of giving fall into two kinds. One kind is verifiable in this very life, right now—being loved, having good friends, a good name, entering any company without fear. For these four, you need believe no one; alive, you can see them and touch them for yourself. The other kind shows itself only after death—rebirth in heaven, for instance. That one crosses the gate of death; the living cannot verify it, and can only receive it on faith.
What is remarkable in the Buddha is that He did not mix the two together and ask you to swallow them whole. He let the line stand perfectly clear: what can be verified, verify for yourself; only where verification cannot reach does faith come in. General Sīha kept to the same line—of the four he could verify, he said openly "these I know myself," with no false modesty; of the fifth he could not, he said just as openly "this I take on faith," with no pretense of having seen what he had not.
This is a very healthy attitude. It does not push all of giving off into a distant future life—"do it now and it counts for nothing; the blessing arrives next lifetime"—no: in this very life, right now, there are four solid, tangible returns. Nor does it let you inflate faith into knowledge, pretending to have "seen" things you have not in fact seen. What can be verified goes to experience; what must be believed goes to faith. Neither crosses the other's line, and both are taken in earnest.
The Floor and the Ceiling
Set this chapter beside the last one, and the picture is complete.
The last chapter spoke of giving's ceiling—how high it can go: up into the finger-snap wisdom of impermanence, up to a place even the Buddha, in a past life, had not yet reached. This chapter speaks of giving's floor—looking downward, looking close: in this life, this very moment, giving is already repaying you. It gives you warm human ties, dependable friends, a clean name, and the steadiness to walk into any room without flinching.
The ceiling makes you look up; the floor sets you at ease. One tells you how deep a practice giving can lead into; the other tells you that giving is nourishing your days at this very moment. Both ends are true.
Walking On
The high and the low of giving have both been seen. But there is one question both these chapters have walked around—who, exactly, should you give to?
The last chapter said that given to the right person, one meal surpasses eighty-four thousand—which already lets it slip that the receiver matters greatly. But how does this "mattering" actually work? Offering to the Buddha, offering to the Saṅgha, offering to an ordinary practitioner—is there a right way among these?
The next chapter has a very warm scene that makes the matter plain—the Buddha's aunt wove a robe with her own hands, to offer to the Buddha. And three times the Buddha asked her to offer that robe to the Saṅgha instead.