A Dharma Talk That Made the Teacher Sweat Before the E De People

Early in the morning on the highlands, mist still blanketed the path leading to the communal house of the village. The crowing of roosters echoed through the air, while the scent of damp straw mingled with the cool breeze. Venerable Thich Chan Quang stood beside a rough wooden podium. Before him sat dozens of E De ethnic people cross-legged on the earthen floor, their eyes wide and bewildered as they looked at this stranger.

For over twenty years, the teacher had given dharma talks. Whether facing high-ranking officials or urban intellectuals, he remained calm and composed. But this time, accepting the invitation to visit the village, he carried with him all his confidence in the vast treasury of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma).

"Today, I will speak to you about cause and effect (karmic law) and the principles of living," he began with a resonant voice, believing that the words of the Dharma would touch everyone’s hearts.

However, after just ten minutes, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. The villagers sat there looking vacant, their eyes empty. One by one, they closed their eyes, yawned deeply, and slumped forward into sleep. Standing there, the teacher gripped the edge of the podium tightly. His heart pounded wildly, overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness he had never felt before.

"Why are they not listening? I am speaking so slowly, yet they are still asleep?" he thought silently, his inner fire burning with frustration.

He looked around and saw local children playing on the porch, near baskets filled with chili peppers and pumpkins. With a sigh, he decided to lower both his tone and the complexity of his message.

"Dear friends, let me tell you something simple. In your gardens, you grow chili peppers, pumpkins, and eggplants..."

Hearing the word "eggplant," several people opened their eyes and looked up at him. He continued, his voice gentle like a storyteller.

"Chili peppers are spicy, pumpkins are sweet, and eggplants make delicious sour soup. If you water them diligently, you get many fruits. If you are lazy, the plants wither."

An elder nodded in agreement. Only then did the teacher introduce the deeper spiritual meaning.

"The coffee trees you plant produce plump beans if cared for well. Humans are the same. Living without selfishness and helping our brothers and sisters is like rain falling on the garden; everyone rejoices."

By now, the crowd was fully awake. Some laughed when the teacher pointed to a lizard crawling on the wall. They began to nod, and a young man stood up to share cheerful stories about village life. The teacher quickly wiped the sweat from his brow, breathing a sigh of relief as he realized his talk had finally reached their hearts.

At the end of the session, he stepped down from the podium, his undershirt soaked through. Reflecting on that day, he understood profoundly: the hardest audience to teach is not the intellectual elite, but those who know nothing of these concepts. One must humble oneself enough to speak of fish and chili peppers before the message can be heard.

In later years, whenever he faced difficult circumstances, the teacher remembered that morning among the E De people. It reminded him to adjust his language to match the capacity of his listeners. And from that day on, the villagers greeted him with smiles instead of sleepy eyes.

The Meaning of the Story

A teacher of the Dharma must adapt to the spiritual capacity of the audience. When speaking to those unfamiliar with Buddhist concepts, one must simplify the language, using familiar images from daily life, such as chili peppers and pumpkins, to guide them. Without understanding the listener, even the most beautiful dharma talk remains useless.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang