Seventy Times Seven

**Summary:** A story about the bodhisattva’s patience, transcending all ordinary limits of endurance, to repay old karma and form wholesome connections with all sentient beings.

The afternoon was drawing to a close. The golden-orange sunlight gradually faded over the moss-covered roof tiles. In a quiet corner of the ancient pagoda, the evening bell resonated, blending with the rustle of dry leaves underfoot. A middle-aged man, holding a string of prayer beads, sat on the temple veranda, his gaze distant. Within his heart, a question returned again and again, like waves ceaselessly crashing against a rocky shore.

He had once been a devoted Buddhist, had practiced generosity and observed the precepts. Yet whenever he faced adversity or was insulted by others, his heart would stir. He could endure once, twice, but by the third time, his blood would boil. He wanted to retaliate, to resist. He wondered: “Does a practitioner’s patience truly have a limit? Can a person only bear so much?”

One day, he went to see his teacher, a true monk who had weathered life’s many storms. Bowing his head, he spoke in a choked voice: “Venerable teacher, I have a question. People say we must be patient, but for how long is enough? Is it like the teaching of Jesus, to forgive seventy times seven? Or is there a limit, as in movies where the hero endures only to a point, then rises to fight back?”

The teacher smiled gently, his eyes bright like stars in the night sky. He spoke slowly: “Dear child, you have seen action films where the hero is oppressed and beaten, yet at a certain moment, he rises and defeats the evil one. Viewers feel satisfied then, seeing justice served. But that is the mind of an ordinary being. The practice of a bodhisattva, however, is to be patient forever, without limit. Like the words of Jesus, it is seventy times seven—meaning infinite.”

The man lifted his head, his eyes full of confusion: “But Venerable Teacher, how can one endure forever? How can I bear this again and again without anger, without suffering?”

The teacher looked directly into his eyes, his voice warm and steady: “Consider karma. Over countless past lifetimes, as an ordinary being, you created boundless karma. Some has been repaid, some has not. When you began walking the bodhisattva path, that old karma slowly creeps forward, demanding repayment. It is like owing someone a million. When they come to collect, you only wish to pay six hundred thousand, keeping four hundred thousand for your own life. You beg, you argue, you even speak harshly. But that is not the way of a bodhisattva. A bodhisattva repays it all—without argument, without resistance, without holding anything back. Repay everything to become light, to be free from all burdens.”

The man fell silent, reflecting. The teacher continued: “Imagine someone comes to insult you. They say things that are untrue, or if partly true, greatly exaggerated. In a quarrel, people always say more than what is true. If you insult back, you too must say more than what is true. Thus, both sides defame each other, and nothing remains true. In future lives, both may fall into lower realms as animals. So what is the bodhisattva’s attitude? Not to argue back, not to feel anger, not to suffer, not to plan revenge. And finally, to wait until the person’s anger passes, then take the initiative to reconnect and form a wholesome bond.”

The man’s eyes widened in surprise: “Reconnect? How can that be? They just tore me apart with their words. How can I take the initiative to reach out again?”

The teacher smiled softly: “That is the hardest part, yet the highest expression of patience. Because the bodhisattva’s mind has no right to abandon any sentient being. No matter how malicious they are, no matter how terrible their offenses, the bodhisattva holds a small place for them in their heart. And when the chance arises—even if it takes a million lifetimes—the bodhisattva finds a way to guide them. It is like when you release a fish into the river. You know that in a past life, it may have been an evildoer, yet you still feel compassion for it, still wish for it one day to be reborn as a human who knows to practice.”

The man stood still, tears rolling down his cheeks. He realized that patience is not merely passive endurance, but an active effort—a proactive way to dissolve old karma and form wholesome connections with all beings. He bowed his head in homage to the teacher, his heart lightened as if a thousand-pound burden had been lifted.

From that day on, whenever he faced adversity, he recalled his teacher’s words. He practiced not reacting, not feeling resentment, not suffering, not planning revenge. And when the other person’s anger subsided, he actively sought to reconnect—even if only through a message or an invitation. Gradually, his life became more peaceful. Old debts were repaid little by little, and his heart opened wide to embrace all beings, whether strangers or kin.

**The Meaning of the Story**

This story teaches about the bodhisattva’s patience—not as mere passive endurance, but as the active practice of dissolving old karma and forming wholesome connections with all sentient beings. The perfection of patience is to repay all debts without argument or resistance, and to always keep one’s heart open with love—even if it takes countless lifetimes to guide others.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang