Most people spend their lives chasing rewards.
Some seek money.
Others seek recognition.
Many seek something even more addictive: approval.
We want to know that our efforts matter. We want acknowledgment for our sacrifices. We want confirmation that we are good, successful, generous, intelligent, or worthy.
More than 1,500 years ago, one wandering monk shattered that entire way of thinking with a single sentence.
His name was Bodhidharma.
And according to one of the most famous stories in Buddhist history, he looked one of the most powerful rulers on earth directly in the eye and told him that his good deeds earned him absolutely nothing.
Not a little merit.
Not reduced merit.
No merit at all.
The encounter would become one of the foundational stories of Zen Buddhism and remains astonishingly relevant in a world obsessed with likes, followers, status, promotions, awards, and public validation.
The Emperor Who Wanted Spiritual Credit
The year was around 520 CE.
China was ruled by Emperor Wu of Liang, one of the most influential patrons of Buddhism in Chinese history. He funded temples, supported monasteries, sponsored the copying of sacred texts, and helped ordain thousands of monks. By any standard of the day, he appeared to be the ideal Buddhist ruler.
Then news arrived that a mysterious monk from India had entered China.
His name was Bodhidharma.
Tradition remembers him as the founder of Chan Buddhism, which later became known in Japan as Zen. He was famous for his uncompromising teaching style and his insistence on direct experience rather than religious ritual or intellectual debate.
The emperor summoned him to court.
One can almost imagine the scene.
A magnificent palace.
Silk banners.
Government officials.
Monks and scholars standing nearby.
At the center sat one of the most powerful men in Asia.
He was proud of what he had accomplished.
Perhaps understandably so.
After all, he had devoted enormous resources to spreading Buddhism throughout his empire.
Then he asked the question.
“I have built temples, supported monks, and copied sacred scriptures. What merit have I gained?”
He expected praise.
He expected confirmation.
He expected spiritual credit.
Instead, Bodhidharma replied:
“No merit.”
The Words That Changed History
Imagine the silence that followed.
No merit?
How could that be possible?
The emperor had spent years supporting religion.
He had invested wealth, power, and influence into what he believed were noble causes.
Why would a Buddhist monk dismiss all of it?
The emperor immediately asked why.
Bodhidharma’s answer cut directly to the heart of Buddhist philosophy.
Good deeds performed for reward remain tied to reward.
Actions performed to accumulate spiritual points remain attached to the self seeking those points.
The problem was not the temples.
The problem was the bookkeeping.
The emperor was treating spirituality like an accounting system.
Bodhidharma was pointing toward something deeper.
The Hidden Trap of Virtue
Most people misunderstand this story.
Bodhidharma was not saying generosity is worthless.
He was not criticizing kindness.
He was not attacking charity.
His target was far more subtle.
He was exposing the ego hiding behind good deeds.
There is a profound difference between helping because help is needed and helping because we want recognition for helping.
There is a difference between serving and being seen serving.
Between contribution and reputation.
Between purpose and applause.
Bodhidharma’s teaching forces us to ask a deeply uncomfortable question:
If nobody knew what you did, would you still do it?
If nobody praised you, would you continue?
If there were no reward, no promotion, no applause, no social media engagement, no status increase, would you still show up?
That question remains just as relevant today as it was in the emperor’s palace fifteen centuries ago.
The Conversation Became Even Stranger
The emperor was puzzled.
So he asked another question.
“What is the highest meaning of the holy truth?”
Bodhidharma answered:
“Vast emptiness. Nothing sacred.”
Then came the final exchange.
The emperor asked:
“Who are you?”
Bodhidharma replied:
“I do not know.”
The emperor could not understand him.
The meeting ended.
According to tradition, Bodhidharma left and traveled north, eventually becoming famous for spending years in meditation facing a wall. Whether every detail is historically precise remains debated among scholars, but the story's impact is undeniable. It became one of the defining moments in the development of Chan and Zen Buddhism.
Why This Story Still Matters Today
The emperor’s mistake is our mistake.
We measure everything.
Followers.
Income.
Job titles.
Awards.
Views.
Subscribers.
Reputation.
Influence.
Even personal growth becomes something we try to collect like trophies.
We meditate to become more successful.
We exercise to impress others.
We volunteer to enhance our image.
We learn because we want recognition for being knowledgeable.
The ego has an extraordinary ability to disguise itself as virtue.
Bodhidharma saw through that illusion.
His teaching was not that action is meaningless.
His teaching was that attachment is the problem.
The work matters.
The reward does not.
The contribution matters.
The recognition does not.
The practice matters.
The applause does not.
A Challenge for Modern Life
Imagine approaching your work differently tomorrow.
What would happen if you stopped calculating the return on every effort?
What if you stopped asking whether people noticed?
What if you stopped measuring your worth through external validation?
What if you focused entirely on doing the work well?
Not because it advances your status.
Not because it earns admiration.
Not because it creates an image.
But because it is the right thing to do.
That was Bodhidharma’s challenge.
And perhaps that is why this ancient conversation still echoes across centuries.
A powerful emperor wanted confirmation.
A wandering monk gave him freedom instead.
Most people spend their lives trying to accumulate merit.
Bodhidharma offered something far more radical.
The possibility of acting without needing anything in return.
