Grandmother, the Sutra, and the Art of Holding Back

In the early morning, dew still clung to the leaves of the spinach plants on the porch. Inside the dim thatched house, lit only by an oil lamp, Grandmother sat cross-legged on her mat. Her fingers moved rhythmically through her prayer beads, her lips murmuring sutras with a steady flow like running water. The scent of incense drifted through the door cracks, mingling with the rustle of dry leaves stirred by the wind. Her five-year-old grandson ran across the yard, his feet crunching on dried loofah skins, before bursting into the house with a flushed face from exertion.

“Grandmother, Grandmother! That lady next door is scolding me. She says I am very naughty!”

The boy panted, his round eyes fixed on his grandmother. She did not open her eyes, continuing her chanting, but waved her hand slightly as a signal. For a long time, it had been Grandmother’s custom to chant sutras every morning without fail. However, the elderly neighbor was prone to arguments. Whenever she saw the little boy wandering near her garden, she would scold him harshly. A few days prior, the boy had run home crying after being yelled at, causing Grandmother to stop her practice and go over to argue, losing her entire session of spiritual cultivation. Learning from this, she resolved to balance her practice with worldly matters.

The boy stood with arms folded, waiting impatiently. Seeing his grandmother still murmuring, he tugged at her robe. “Grandma, please go scold her back. I won’t accept defeat!”

“Let her scold for now,” Grandmother said calmly, eyes still closed. “Wait until I finish my sutra, then I will go out and continue.”

“How long will that take?” the boy asked, tilting his head curiously.

“This sutra takes three rounds of the beads. I have counted them. Please bear with it a little longer,” she said, stroking his head while keeping her eyes shut.

The chanting resumed, steady and rhythmic, blending with the clucking of chickens in the bamboo grove outside. The boy sat down on the mat, covering his ears with both hands, yet straining to hear the scolding beyond the fence. After a while, Grandmother opened her eyes, smoothed her silver hair, stood up, and stretched.

“I am done. I will go finish the argument now. Stay here and recite the Buddha’s name,” she said, picking up a bamboo cane and stepping into the yard. Her voice rang out clearly: “Neighbor, do not bully my grandchild; I will not tolerate it!”

The turning point came when Grandmother arrived at the scene. The neighbor, seeing Grandmother neatly dressed in brown robes, began to speak but hesitated, surprised that the sutra had finished so quickly. Grandmother spoke a few words about right and wrong, then returned home, her face showing no anger.

After that day, Grandmother maintained her uninterrupted morning practice. Whenever the boy was scolded, she gave the same instruction: let them scold for now, and she would address it after finishing her sutra. Gradually, the neighbor realized that yelling was futile and feared Grandmother’s serious demeanor, so she stopped scolding the boy.

Years passed, and the grandson grew up, still remembering the phrase, “Wait until Grandma finishes her sutra, then I will go continue.” It became a lesson on not abandoning one’s spiritual practice despite the chaos of daily life. Though aged, Grandmother’s memory remained sharp. Every morning, she completed her chanting before dealing with neighborhood affairs. The home remained peaceful, and the sound of sutras continued to resonate.

The Meaning of the Story

Spiritual practice and sutra chanting should not be interrupted by worldly matters. We can temporarily allow disturbances to occur—such as letting someone scold us—while completing our own study and practice. Only then should we address the situation. Maintaining meditative concentration while fulfilling our responsibilities is a wise approach to practicing Dharma at home.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang