Three Essential Questions

Mat Da, an ancient pagoda three hundred years old, lies quietly in the heart of Thanh Hoa city. Its walls covered in moss, its tiled roofs steeped in the mist of time, the pagoda sits amid a land where people toil year-round, and few think of coming to the temple to light incense. Nun Dam Trung, the abbess, watched helplessly during the great feast days as people stood outside the gate, looked in, then shook their heads and walked away.

One afternoon, as the dharma talk of Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang came to an end, the Phat Thanh practice community sat in silence. The teacher asked:

"When can we say that we have begun to truly practice?"

One lay Buddhist raised a hand: "When I recite sutras every day." Another said: "When I bow to the Buddha for the full allotted time." The teacher shook his head, his eyes patient:

"Recite a hundred copies of the Lotus Sutra, chant the Buddha's name until a hundred strands of your prayer beads snap, and still it cannot be called true practice. A person who cannot see their own faults will cause trouble wherever they go. They blame others, defend themselves, and never see that they are wrong."

The teacher told a small story. Once, he visited the home of a young woman, and the lady invited him in for a conversation. As he was leaving, he asked:

"And what does your husband do for a living?"

She answered gently, without a trace of resentment:

"We have separated. It was my failing—I could not keep my husband."

The teacher fell silent, feeling a strange peace within. That woman, despite her misfortune, blamed no one at all, taking the fault upon herself. He thought: a person like this will find happiness.

The teacher turned back to the community:

"The hall is so empty today. If our group leader says it is because the brothers are lazy, that is blaming. But if he says, 'Perhaps I did not encourage them enough,' then that is someone who truly practices. Taking the fault upon oneself is greatness, because it is the beginning."

Then he asked the second question:

"When can we say our resolve for the path is complete?"

The hall fell silent. The teacher said:

"When we begin to give rise to the aspiration to become a monastic. Even knowing that our circumstances do not allow it, even knowing how difficult it is, the heart still delights in it, still longs to live the monastic life. That is when the resolve is complete."

Heads bowed, eyes gazing into the distance. A few hands hesitantly rose, then drew back. The teacher smiled gently:

"Whoever raised a hand has already been recorded in the heavenly register. If you do not become a monastic in this life, you will in the next. But if you keep loving worldly life and refuse to practice, you incur a debt to heaven and earth."

The teacher told a story from a meditation center. A young monk would sneak over the fence to go out and play every night after the pagoda fell asleep. One night, the master discovered this, and quietly went to sit beneath the spot where the student usually stepped to climb down. When the young monk returned, he stepped down firmly—and was stunned to find himself landing on his master's head. The master said only one thing:

"It is cold out late at night, child. Be careful not to catch a chill."

Not a word of reproach. Yet that sentence weighed more than a thousand admonitions. From then on, the young monk never dared break the rules again. The teacher explained:

"Worldly people rejoice in escaping the rules. Those who have cultivated sufficient virtue find joy within the rules. Even amid loud singing and noise outside, they still feel happiness sitting quietly in a serene pagoda."

And the third question, the hardest of all:

"When do we truly begin to step onto the spiritual path?"

The teacher spoke slowly:

"When we attain mindful awareness. A state of being constantly empty, awake, and pure. No words can describe it. Just listen and keep it in mind; when you attain it, you will know."

The teacher looked around, his gaze resting on Nun Dam Trung:

"I give the Phat Thanh community a task. This year, you must teach and transform all the villagers around Mat Da pagoda. Divide into groups, make a map, visit every household. If even one house remains that has not come to the pagoda to take refuge, the next time I return, I will make the entire community kneel in penance."

The community applauded, but every heart trembled. The teacher continued:

"Even fighting the Americans was possible; getting to know people is far easier. You must train yourselves to become used to it. In your free time, visit each household, gift them recordings of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), ask after their health, perform ceremonies for the departed and for peace. Let people see the pagoda as a place of refuge."

He told of Vien Quang pagoda in Nghe An. When it was first built, the monks would visit every household whenever they had free time. Though the villagers were Christian, when they saw the monks come, they grew very fond of them. When the pagoda held a ceremony praying for peace for the nation and its people, nearly ten thousand people attended.

"But if we do not visit, people passing by the pagoda still feel it is foreign to them. Once we have come to them, they will say: 'Ah, this pagoda is familiar with my family.' And then they will come to recite sutras right away."

Then the teacher returned to the three questions once more:

"First, when do we begin to practice? When we begin to see our own faults. Second, when is our resolve complete? When we give rise to the aspiration to become a monastic. Third, when do we step onto the spiritual path? When we attain mindful awareness."

The teacher spoke of himself. Back when he was still a layman, one day he said to his mother:

"Looking back, I see I have so many faults."

His mother was surprised:

"What faults do you have? You live decently, no bad companions, no drinking, no smoking."

But he knew. Looking within his own heart, he saw faults that outsiders could not see. After entering the pagoda to practice, he lamented again to the senior monks:

"Looking back, I see I have so many faults."

His master told him:

"Next year, looking back, you will see that this year still had faults."

And so it was. Even now, as a Most Venerable with more than thirty years as a fully ordained monk, he has never seen himself become faultless. The more he practices, the more he sees his past mistakes. Fortunately, by seeing those faults, they transformed into so many dharma teachings to share with everyone.

"Many people praise my talks, but no one understands that behind every good talk lie my own faults. Precisely because they are my own faults, they become teachings that move people's hearts. Talks drawn from books, from classrooms, are soulless, dry lectures."

The teacher looked at the community with kind eyes:

"Practice so that you keep seeing your own faults. See a fault, overcome it; see a fault, overcome it. Naturally, you will become a teacher whom sentient beings can rely upon. Whether monastic or lay, just keep passing through your mistakes, and naturally you become a teacher. That is all."

Outside Mat Da pagoda, the afternoon was turning to dusk. The temple bell rang out, slow and serene. The Phat Thanh community sat quietly, each heart carrying a new stirring. Three simple questions, yet they held an entire life of practice.

The Meaning of the Story

Three milestones mark progress on the spiritual path: Beginning to see one's own faults is the true start of practice, requiring wisdom, courage, and humility. Giving rise to the aspiration to become a monastic is the sign that one's resolve is complete, even if circumstances do not yet allow it. Attaining mindful awareness is when one truly steps onto the spiritual path, with a heart that is always empty, awake, and pure. Only when we know our own faults can our teachings come from flesh and blood, from pain and repentance, and only then can they have the power to transform others. Practitioners must never cease looking inward—seeing faults, overcoming them—and always remember that when virtue is complete, joy arises within the rules themselves.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang.