Someone asked: is it better to make many donations of small amounts, or one donation of a large amount equal to the sum of the small ones? And if one intends to make a donation but doesn't do it right away, does giving slowly versus quickly make a difference?

Each Act of Giving Carries Its Own Merit, According to Intention

Each act of merit carries different merit depending on the giver's intention. Take offering meal money to monks, for example: since monks cannot earn a livelihood the way laypeople do, they depend on the faithful offerings of lay followers to live. When we offer them meal money, this pure wholesome formation carries five qualities — long life, radiant complexion, happiness, strength, and quick wit — which will benefit us in every life we're reborn into: abundant food so we never go hungry, a radiant and pleasing complexion, happiness of body and mind, strong physical and mental energy for doing good, quick wit in solving problems, and long life. If we want additional specific merit, we can direct our wish along with the act of giving. Each kind of giving therefore yields different merit depending on its intended purpose.

Many Small Gifts or One Large Gift — It Depends on What Feels Right

Giving in many different ways yields a variety of merits according to each act; giving one large amount in a single act can also carry a directed wish. Both approaches depend on which feels right to you — if giving in many ways feels good, do that; if giving one large amount feels good, do that instead. The two things that matter most, above all else, are: first, cutting stinginess, and second, having a generous spirit. These two are the true heart of giving.

Cutting Stinginess: Raising Your Own Standard of Giving

Cutting stinginess means practicing raising your own standard of giving, little by little — if you used to give 100, push it to 200, 300, 400, 500, to the point where it starts to feel difficult to give. That's exactly the point where you need to grit your teeth and give anyway, so that stinginess gradually diminishes. The more you have, the more you should give. What you give away isn't lost — it becomes a refined asset that yields immeasurable returns, both now, in the ease of mind that comes from having helped someone, and in the future, something you can hope for. You can direct your wishes into that pure, radiant sphere of Dhamma-substance that appears — whatever you lack, whatever troubles you, direct your wish into it.

That said, cutting stinginess must stay within the bounds of what is truly your own property — never take from others what they haven't offered to give. Otherwise the loss outweighs the gain. When someone shares news of a merit-making opportunity and we can only give a small amount within our means, that still counts as cutting stinginess to the extent we're able — don't criticize anyone for giving little. Keep your heart pure, sincere, and honest. The unwholesome side uses stinginess as a tool to keep us from ever changing our fortune, so we must keep cutting it away. As we keep raising our standard of giving until we no longer feel any reluctance to give, wealth flows to us easily; but if we still cling to what we have, wealth comes with difficulty — only as much as we're willing to release. (There are exceptions — some people carry so much accumulated merit from the past that wealth pours in without much effort on their part, but that's a separate case.)

Generosity of Spirit: Letting the Stream of Merit Flow Through the Heart

Another essential quality is generosity of spirit — watching out for what others lack and helping where we can. Even if we can only offer a little ourselves, we can use our wisdom to rally others, spreading word of a merit opportunity so everyone can contribute what they're able and express their goodwill toward others. When the heart is full of this kind of generous spirit, we get the chance to build wholesome merit, and the stream of merit flows abundantly through our hearts.

Helping Someone in Direct Need Differs from Offering to a Temple

If our accumulated merit from the past is already full and complete, we can direct our wishes into an act of giving just the same. That said, giving directly to someone in immediate need — such as covering someone's transportation or fuel costs when they're struggling — yields merit specifically tied to relieving that particular suffering, which differs from offering to a temple, where the temple then manages the funds for its own purposes.

Giving Slowly vs. Quickly Really Does Make a Difference

As for whether delaying an intended donation makes a difference — Pra Ajarn answered that it truly does; it's not that delay has no effect. The delay happens because the unwholesome-neutral force (abyakata) works to hold us back — erasing our memory, making us forget, or leaving our resolve to do good less than whole, holding us back again and again with "in a moment, in a moment." Instead of the stream of merit pouring through us right then, the merit, the refined assets, and the completed blueprint of success fail to take hold. The more often we hold back, the more we become accustomed to endlessly putting it off. So when the chance to do merit arises, we should resolve to act immediately, letting the stream of merit flow through us easily — don't let it become difficult.

The Suffering, Difficulty, and Hardship of Sin, Versus the Happiness, Ease, and Simplicity of Merit

Sin tends to produce "suffering, difficulty, and hardship": suffering means being unhappy and uncomfortable; difficulty means things aren't easy; hardship means things aren't convenient. Merit produces the opposite — happiness, comfort, and ease. Whenever we do good — helping others, studying the Dhamma, observing precepts, or meditating — we should make it easy, get it done quickly, and feel at peace doing it; don't let it become difficult or burdensome. If doing good starts to feel forced and uncomfortable, that's sin making it difficult, and we should push through and complete it anyway. When merit bears fruit, we feel happiness, comfort, and ease, all together.