The Prodigal Son and His Father's Fortune: Why Do We Keep Wandering in Search of Suffering?

In a vivid story from the Lotus Sutra, there was a son who left his wealthy father and wandered from village to village, from land to land, just to scrape together a living. The father grieved deeply at seeing his son suffer, yet the son would not step foot into the house, only asking to be hired for hard labor. The father sorrowfully thought: "My father is rich, yet I cannot make use of it; I run about struggling for every morsel of food." Does this image feel familiar? Are there times when we, too, are like that prodigal son—possessing an entire treasure of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), yet chasing after trivial, insignificant things?

Who is the wandering prodigal son?

Master Thích Chân Quang opens his dharma talk on the chapter "Faith and Understanding" with a wake-up call: Sometimes we have the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha right before us, yet we do not come to learn from them. Instead, we run to fortune tellers and spirit mediums, asking about the future and praying for wealth and luck. When we hear a monk advise, "Do not dwell on the future; live abiding in the present and make merit each day," we find it bland and unsatisfying. But when a fortune teller says, "Next year your business will improve; go toward the southeast and you will find fortune," we are absolutely delighted. This is precisely the state of mind of the prodigal son:

"I abandon the sublime Buddha's teachings (Dharma) and only seek the lowly theories of other paths, the shallow philosophies of ordinary philosophers... That is the wandering prodigal son."

Sometimes we seek out simple, mystical explanations that are not grounded in cause and effect (karmic law) and do not lead to liberation. Out of mere curiosity, we are drawn to strange things and blindly chase after them. As for the great teaching of the Buddha, we fear it, we cannot grasp it, and so we keep wandering on.

A deeper meaning: The pure mind is a great treasure

The parable also carries a subtler layer of meaning. Each of us possesses a priceless treasure: the pure mind. Yet we rarely think of it or enjoy it. Instead, we let the mind run east and west, thinking about this and that, until we are exhausted and full of afflictions (kleshas). Master Chân Quang points this out clearly:

"I do not return to my pure mind, but instead wander into chaotic thinking. That is the wandering prodigal son. My pure mind is a great treasure, a boundless happiness that I never get to enjoy."

When we chase after thoughts, we feel noisy and restless. When we sit down and try to settle the mind a little, we realize that those quiet moments are true happiness. Meanwhile, the times spent worrying, calculating, and thinking idly are the times of afflictions (kleshas).

The pure mind brings happiness and wisdom

Many people worry that sitting in meditation and keeping the mind pure is passive, an escape from life. But in truth, a peaceful, undisturbed mind is extraordinarily clear and perceptive. The Master gives the example of a Buddhist layman who managed a complex establishment, handling about two hundred tasks a day, each one requiring immediate attention. Thanks to his practice of keeping the mind pure, he handled everything with keen agility, without needing to deliberate for long.

"A person with a pure mind is very intelligent, very clear-sighted. That is why the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) advise us to return to the pure inner mind—not in a passive or negative sense, but in fact this is deeply positive."

A tranquil mind gives us the wisdom to see through problems, to handle our work quickly and in the right direction. At the same time, we gain a deep joy that does not depend on money or material things outside ourselves.

Letting go of the self to open the heart of love

Going deeper, the chapter "Faith and Understanding" teaches that even if we have a pure mind, if we still cling to the self, we have not yet reached the final goal of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma). The self makes us selfish, thinking only of ourselves, while our love has not yet expanded. The Master urges us to look at everyone with the eyes of compassion, and to practice loving all sentient beings:

"When a person practices this compassion until it becomes second nature—so that whenever they face anyone, a feeling of love always arises in their heart—that person, day and night, is always accompanied and protected by the heavenly beings."

This is the Mahayana path: letting go of self-clinging and expanding the mind of compassion. When we no longer see the "I," love spreads throughout the entire realm of Dharma, without limit. That is truly the ultimate purpose of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma).

A caution about the wisdom of Prajna: Do not lose your resolve

In a passage from the sutra, Mahākāśyapa says that when one contemplates all phenomena as empty—neither arising nor ceasing, neither large nor small—the mind no longer desires anything. This is the teaching of Prajna, which purifies the mind, but it can also lead to passivity and loss of motivation. Master Chân Quang tells the story of an intellectual Buddhist layman who realized the truth of Prajna, saw life as a dream, and gradually lost all goals, even his purpose within the Dharma itself. The Master warns that those who practice Prajna without skill will lose their resolve, become passive and arrogant, rejecting whatever anyone says because they believe they understand deeply.

This is very dangerous. If we wish to maintain diligence and compassion, we need to enter meditative concentration by another path.

Two paths into concentration: Philosophy or ethics?

There are two paths to a pure mind: the philosophical path (contemplating all phenomena as a dream) and the ethical path (filtering our thoughts, removing selfish thinking and keeping only altruistic thoughts). The philosophical path easily causes us to lose our resolve and become arrogant. The ethical path is harder, but deeper and more practical. The Master teaches:

"I enter meditative concentration by the path of ethics. That means, in practicing ethics, I remove all thoughts that carry even the shadow of selfishness, and I accept only those thoughts that are purely for the benefit of others."

Whether we are being insulted by someone, longing for wealth, or worrying about our children and grandchildren—if we see that those thoughts carry a shadow of selfishness, we let them go through letting go. We keep only the thoughts that benefit sentient beings. In this way, the mind gradually becomes pure, and wisdom and compassion are nourished and grow.

Dear Buddhist friends, each of us possesses a priceless treasure: the pure mind and the potential for liberation. Do not be like the wandering prodigal son, chasing after petty and insignificant things. Return home, listen to your inner voice, live abiding in the present, make merit, cultivate the mind, and open your heart to love all beings. As Master Chân Quang reminds us: "This is the path called the Mahayana. So please remember this path: let go of your self-clinging and open your heart of love to sentient beings." Surely then, we will find happiness and wisdom right within our own hearts, without needing to search anywhere far away.