The Mystery of the Supreme Divine Being

That day, the air in the lecture hall of Thanh Hà Pagoda seemed to grow thick—not from heat, but from a stillness so deep it felt almost suffocating. Hundreds of eyes turned forward, where a teacher stood in the slanting afternoon light streaming through the window, chalk dust suspended in the air like tiny grains of gold. The wind moving through the ancient trees in the courtyard created a soft rustling symphony, in stark contrast to the absolute silence within. The teacher began to speak slowly, his voice deep and warm yet sharp enough to cut through every stray thought in the crowd:

"Today, together we will seek the answer to a question that has troubled humanity for thousands of years: Who is the supreme divine being?"

The question rang out like the peal of a bell, startling many. Some immediately thought of the powerful deities enshrined in distant temples; others recalled how their ancestors once bowed in reverence before strange stones or ancient banyan trees. But the teacher shook his head, his eyes seeming to look straight into the depths of each person's mind/heart.

"If you believe that anyone who merely sits upon a throne, grants favorable rains and gentle winds, or punishes enemies with thunderbolts is divine, then you are seriously mistaken," he said, gesturing toward the vast sky beyond. "Look at human history. When an army prepared to march out and invade another land, they would stop at a shrine and pray to their god for blessing as they killed and plundered. If that god consented, would it truly be a good god? Or would it merely be a tool of greed and violence?"

A slight stir moved through the crowd, and whispers began to rise. A middle-aged woman with a weathered face gently gripped the string of prayer beads in her hands, her heart tightening as she recognized the contradiction within her old beliefs. She remembered praying for her children to pass their exams, for her husband's business to prosper, and even those moments when, in anger, she had wished misfortune upon a neighbor. Could such selfish prayers ever deserve to be answered?

The teacher continued, his voice growing deeper, guiding his listeners back through time to ancient India, where Siddhartha Gautama—a young prince—stood at the crossroads of his life.

"Siddhartha abandoned his magnificent palace, renouncing his beautiful wife and young child in order to search for the truth. He sought out the most accomplished spiritual teachers of his age. With Aara Kalama, he learned meditative concentration so profound that he could walk upon the water. With Uddaka Ramaputta, he reached a state in which he could float through the air. Supernatural powers and miracles lay within his grasp."

The image of that young prince, clad in a simple monk's robe, standing deep in the forest with eyes that shone brightly yet were full of searching, appeared vividly before them. He was not satisfied. Though he could perform wonders, read the thoughts of others, and transform all manner of things, the suffering (dukkha) of birth, aging, sickness, and death still remained. The world was still submerged in war, hatred, and sorrow.

"Supernatural powers do not solve the problem," Siddhartha told himself, his trembling hand touching the left side of his chest, where his heart beat restlessly with longing for something far greater. "If I can fly, yet there is still an 'I' left to feel proud, then I remain a slave to the self. I need something that transcends it all."

And so he left those teachers behind, entered six years of severe ascetic practice, and finally sat beneath the bodhi tree in meditative concentration for forty-nine days and nights. When dawn broke and light fell upon his face, it was not the light of supernatural power but the light of enlightenment. He had found what neither science nor any other religion had ever dared to affirm: non-self (anatta).

The teacher turned back to the crowd, his gaze gentle yet resolute:

"The supreme divine being is not an omnipotent power that bestows fortune and sends calamity. The supreme divine being is the one who has completely eradicated the 'I.' That is the Buddha. And when we bow before him, we are not bowing to a supernatural power; we are bowing to the wisdom of letting go, and to a compassion that makes no distinctions."

A young man seated in the front row, himself a successful businessman, suddenly felt a chill run down his spine. He remembered the sleepless nights spent fearing loss, the fierce struggles over profit. He had always believed himself strong, but now he saw how weak he was before his own ego. He glanced at the middle-aged woman beside him and saw that she, too, was in tears—not from sadness, but from a gentle sense of release.

"When you love your parents and your children, that is affection," the teacher emphasized. "But when you see a butterfly drifting past a branch, a fish gliding through the water, and feel that they are you—when no boundary remains between 'the one who loves' and 'the one who is loved'—that is Absolute Compassion. That is the state the Buddha attained. He knows all things about living beings not because he uses supernatural powers to peer into them, but because he and all living beings are one."

The story closed in a new kind of silence. No longer the heavy stillness of the beginning, it was a clear and peaceful space in which each person looked quietly inward at themselves. They understood that seeking a deity to lean on, to petition for personal gain, was a grave mistake. The only path to true peace is walking the path of non-self (anatta), where the small ego dissolves into the boundless ocean of love and wisdom.

The Meaning of the Story

The story conveys a core message: the supreme divine being is not an omnipotent figure who grants miracles or metes out punishment, but one who has attained the state of non-self (anatta)—no longer clinging to the ego. To venerate the Buddha is, in essence, to venerate the wisdom and virtue of letting go, of absolute compassion. When people understand this right view, they will no longer fall into superstition or become divided over religious labels, but will move toward unity, love, and liberation from the suffering (dukkha) caused by the selfish ego.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang.