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A Lesson from the Sandals and the Repentance Ceremony

A young abbot practices giving dharma talks to lay Buddhists, but because he speaks for too long, everyone leaves. Thanks to a master's advice, he learns the lesson of keeping the teachings practical and relevant.

About two years after we last met, I asked after the young abbot I had once counseled: "So, have you been practicing your dharma talks?"

He smiled, scratched his head, and looked a little embarrassed: "Yes, Master, I took your advice and have been practicing. But…" He hesitated. "It's been strange, Master."

I raised an eyebrow: "Strange how?"

"At first I did exactly as you told me. After paying respects at the ancestral hall, I left my sandals downstairs, went up to the main hall for the repentance ceremony. When it was done, I sat there and gave a talk to the lay Buddhists. Only after finishing did I go back down to the ancestral hall, retrieve my sandals, and head home. But…" He sighed. "After a few talks, they caught on. They started bringing their sandals right into the main hall. When the repentance ceremony ended, they would quietly slip down, grab their sandals, and all leave at once. Not a single person stayed to hear me speak. I sat there alone, worrying endlessly, wondering why my lay Buddhists were acting so oddly."

I burst out laughing, understanding the problem at once. "They weren't being odd at all. It's that you lack experience in giving talks, and you spoke far too long. After bowing to the Buddha, people are tired, and then you ask them to sit through another two hours—who can bear that? They still have so many things to take care of at home."

The young abbot's eyes went wide: "Wait, so when you told me to give talks back then, you forgot to mention I should keep them short?"

We both laughed. I remembered when I first arrived at the temple in my hometown. Lay Buddhists came to every repentance ceremony. My talks were concise, only about forty-five minutes. Yet the lay Buddhists loved them and kept coming back. Speaking briefly was precisely what made it work. In remote areas like this, for the venerable nuns to have built such a precious temple, there must be a plan to save sentient beings and bring them to the temple. But the difficulty is that lay Buddhists are not yet familiar with the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), so the teachings we share with them must be practical and present, here and now. That is what we are discussing today.

The Buddha once defined it this way: "The Dharma is practical and present, not bound by time, inviting one to come and see, so that the wise may come to believe and understand for themselves." Practical means grounded in reality—speaking of things that exist in daily life, nothing vague, nothing imagined. When the poor hear the Dharma, they should find joy right within their poverty, learn contentment, and know how to do even small good deeds. When the rich hear the Dharma, they should let go of arrogance and learn to love others. The teachings must address real, specific sufferings: a husband with a mistress, a child addicted to drugs, struggles with work and livelihood. One cannot simply say, "Just recite the Buddha's name and pray for rebirth in the Pure Land," and then leave people to fend for themselves.

The young abbot nodded: "I understand now. Speak less, but speak well—practically, so that people can go home and apply it right away."

From then on, he learned from the experience. At each repentance ceremony, he spoke for only half an hour, but he prepared that half hour carefully, telling stories and offering concrete examples. Gradually, the lay Buddhists grew fond of his talks and came in greater numbers. The poor who heard the Dharma learned contentment and happily helped pave the roads for the temple. The rich who heard the Dharma looked down on others less and felt their hearts grow lighter. Practical teachings had transformed their lives.

The Meaning of the Story

The Buddha's teachings (Dharma) must be practical, applicable immediately to daily life, and able to resolve specific sufferings—never vague, never distant. Those who give dharma talks need to speak concisely and clearly, suited to the capacities of their listeners, so that people may see the benefits for themselves and come to trust the path.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang

AI-assisted translation from the Vietnamese original.

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