The Weight of Virtue

The late afternoon sun slanted through the leaves of the hedge at Binh Lau Pagoda, resting gently on the blue robes of those sitting in silence. The buzzing of July cicadas mingled with the sweet fragrance of jasmine from the altar. Venerable Thich Chan Quang looked out over the assembly, his kind eyes sweeping across each face turned toward him.

"Today," he began, his voice deep and warm yet firm, "we will speak of a subject more unusual than usual: weighing virtue."

A small murmur rose among the listeners. How could one weigh or measure morality?

The teacher smiled. "We can count money, measure land, and weigh whether a person is fat or thin. But is not virtue invisible? Today, we will find a way to place virtue on the scale. Let us see how many kilograms it holds. For if anyone possesses heavy virtue, their future karmic results will be peaceful and joyful. If one has several tons... they would surely become a saint."

The atmosphere suddenly lightened. Then, the teacher’s expression grew serious.

"Now, let us use certain criteria to measure this. Suppose we are living peacefully, loving our spiritual path and our country. One day, someone comes and says, 'I want to hire you to betray your faith.' Do we agree?"

"No!" came the unanimous reply.

"Good. But what if they say, 'I will give you five million'? Do we agree?"

"No."

"Ten million? One hundred million? Ten billion? A hundred billion?"

This time, no one dared answer with certainty. People exchanged glances, lips moving silently. A whisper emerged: "A hundred billion..." Then a clap broke the silence. The teacher nodded approvingly.

"You see? Human virtue is not infinite. When tempted by bribery, our virtue resists to protect itself. But as the price rises, surpassing our moral threshold, our hearts begin to waver. At that moment, our virtue equals exactly that price."

The teacher continued, his tone lowering. "Consider a young woman kidnapped by criminals and forced into prostitution. They withheld food from her. Starving, they placed an exquisite meal before her and said, 'Sign the contract, and you may eat.' In the grip of intense hunger, some might choose death rather than eat, while others... eat just to survive and sign away their dignity. In that moment, her human worth was equal to only one meal during starvation."

My heart tightened. I had seen such meals through the eyes of others in moments of despair.

"Then who possesses infinite virtue?" the teacher asked, answering himself. "Tran Binh Trong. When captured by the Mongols, they promised to make him king of the South if he surrendered. That was the pinnacle of fame and profit. Yet he declared, 'I would rather be a ghost of the South than a king of the North.'"

He paused, scanning the assembly. "You have heard this phrase often, but perhaps not deeply enough. If placed in that position, as a prisoner being seduced, who can guarantee they would not sell themselves? Most would cooperate immediately without hesitation. Only Tran Binh Trong achieved this in Vietnamese history. His virtue was infinite."

I shivered. Thinking of the hundred billion mentioned earlier, I felt very small.

"In Buddhism," the teacher proceeded, "upon reaching the stage of Stream-Enterer, one begins to possess infinite virtue. Before attaining this, when faced with great fame and profit, we let go and compromise with evil. But those who have realized Stream-Entry are different. They resemble the noble gentlemen of Confucianism. In the past, many Zen masters highly valued Confucian teachings because Confucius’s words on character and integrity align perfectly with the virtue of a Stream-Enterer."

He further recounted the story of Tran Ich Tac, brother of King Tran Thanh Tong and uncle of King Tran Nhan Tong, who held intelligence roles for the Tran dynasty. He was lured by students and betrayed the nation to the Yuan-Mongol invaders due to his desire for the throne. "Both were of the Tran lineage, both understood the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), yet one kept his integrity while the other betrayed. Why? Because their virtues existed at two different levels."

I looked into the distance, remembering ancient tales. I wondered: If offered a hundred billion, what would I do?

As if reading my thoughts, the teacher said, "Evaluate yourselves. If someone offers money to bribe you into doing wrong, against your faith or your country... at what price do you collapse? Some say, 'Teacher, you set the bar too high; give me ten billion and I am gone.' This means their virtue is worth only ten billion. Others, for a single meal in times of famine, sold their entire lives."

Next, the teacher moved to the second criterion. "Suppose you meet someone whose house has burned down, crying in distress. You have ten million in your pocket. How much will you give?"

"Fifty thousand." "One hundred thousand." "One million." "Two million." "Five million." Suggestions rang out. Someone said, "Ten million, give it all."

The teacher nodded. "Here is the number. What percentage of your assets are you willing to share in another’s calamity? Your virtue is calculated accordingly. However, if that ten million represents your family’s monthly living expenses, sharing becomes difficult. This is a hard problem, and the internal struggle at that moment belongs to virtue."

I thought of my own thin wallet and felt how fragile virtue truly is.

"The third criterion," the teacher continued, "is enduring insults and defamation. When insulted, how does the mind react? Anger arises, does it not? But we practice patience. The question is: At what level of verbal abuse do we lose control?"

He described subtle and biting insults. Then came false accusation: "Yesterday, only you and I were here, and I lost twenty million. Please return it out of kindness." The teacher noted, "No one can tolerate this. It falsely accuses the integrity one has guarded for a lifetime. It is like accusing a pure monk of sexual misconduct."

He recalled the Ten Precepts of Mindfulness, specifically the tenth: "Do not reveal grievances. For revealing them is cowardly, and seeking revenge prolongs enmity. Accept it with indifference." But he added, "Most of us have not reached that level. When insulted regarding what we hold dear, anger flares up instantly. Our virtue is limited to that extent; it is not infinite."

I remembered a time two years ago when I was wrongly accused, and I had wanted to react. Could I have remained calm then?

"The fourth criterion," the teacher said, "is physical assault. When struck, do we feel anger? The Buddha taught patience. But after how many blows does anger arise? Recently, two drivers collided. One cursed, and the other stabbed him to death. We often retaliate more severely to win, to satisfy hatred, thereby creating negative karma."

He told a story of two nuns living in huts. Their neighbor raised free-range chickens that destroyed their garden. One nun complained angrily. The other calmly said, "They scratched the soil, not our skin. If we get angry, we damage our mind. Better to lose vegetables than to lose our peace of mind."

The teacher explained, "But if the blow touches the body—a slap in the face, a squeeze of the arm—the ego is triggered, and anger rises immediately. Check yourselves: After how many hits do you remain unangry? One? Two? If you are angry after two slaps, then your virtue weighs only two slaps."

He spoke of bodhisattvas. In a previous life, the Buddha remained serene even when his limbs were cut off by a king. Maudgalyayana had his bones shattered by heretics but did not harbor anger; only after they left did he use supernatural powers to reconnect his bones, pay homage to the Buddha, and enter nirvana. Zen Master Toan Khoac sat waiting for rebels, was pierced through the heart by a spear, and let out a shout that echoed ten miles before dying, demonstrating the power of the enlightened.

"But as for us," the teacher said, "we become angry after two slaps. In Asian culture, parents spank children on the buttocks because it hurts but causes no harm. The child must endure the pain without anger. That is patience."

The dharma talk concluded. The sun had set, and Binh Lau Pagoda sank into twilight. I stood up, feeling both light and heavy. I would remember this lesson every time I faced a choice.

The Meaning of the Story

Human virtue is not infinite; it can be weighed using four criteria: first, the amount of money required to bribe us into wrongdoing; second, the percentage of assets we are willing to donate during another’s crisis; third, the level of insult that causes us to lose control of our anger; and fourth, the number of physical blows that trigger our rage. The greater our virtue, the closer we come to infinity, resembling the Stream-Enterers or bodhisattvas. The lesson is clear: We must honestly assess our own virtue, recognize our limits to cultivate ourselves, strive to overcome temptations of fame and profit, practice patience, and live according to our dignity and moral principles.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang