The Secret Hidden in Two Identical Stories

On that Sunday morning, the atmosphere in the dharma hall was deeply quiet. Gentle sunlight streamed through the glass windows and fell upon the attentive faces listening below. The wind chimes on the veranda chimed softly from time to time, blending with the Teacher's warm, calm voice as he expounded on the fifth conduct in the Ten Great Vows of Samantabhadra: rejoicing in merit.

The Teacher paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the assembly, and then he began to tell a story.

"Imagine a man who sold pho noodle soup in some faraway country. His wife passed away early, and he raised his child alone as a widowed father. Fearing that a stepmother might bring sorrow to the little one, he chose to remain single for the rest of his life. Father and child looked after each other in a small house, living far from wealthy. Yet whenever he set aside a little money from his pot of pho, he quietly helped the poor in his neighborhood. Seeing a child going to school in worn-out clothes, he silently bought a new set of clothes and gave it to the child on the way home. When he heard that someone had fallen ill, he gathered a little money and sent his daughter over with it to help pay for medicine. And in his old age, he withdrew to a temple to practice, even announcing in advance the day he would pass away."

The Teacher asked, "When you hear this story, what arises in your heart, my children?"

Many nodded, their eyes brightening: "We feel admiration. What a beautiful life!"

The Teacher smiled and continued, "But now, look closer to home. There is a neighbor living right next door to you. She also loves everyone—she often repairs roads, donates blood, and whenever she has a little money, she gives it to those in hardship. Everyone in the neighborhood cherishes her. Her life story is exactly the same as that pho seller's—even closer to us, because we see her every day. So when you hear about her, what arises in your heart?"

The whole dharma hall suddenly fell silent. The air grew heavier. A few faint whispers arose, then faded away completely. The Teacher carefully observed the expressions on everyone's faces, then spoke slowly.

"Usually, instead of admiration, many people give rise to... jealousy. Why can she do it while I cannot? Why is she the one praised? This is precisely the difference between ordinary beings and the noble ones."

The Teacher stepped down from the lotus seat and drew closer to the assembly, his voice growing deeper and more heartfelt.

"We find it easy to admire those who have passed away, or great figures who are very far away—places where our ego is not threatened. It is like the poor painters who were suppressed and despised while alive, whose paintings sold for great prices and were celebrated only after their death. But toward someone living right beside us—especially peers, equals, or even juniors—the instinct of jealousy within us rises up strongly. We do not want anyone to surpass us, least of all when that person is within our own sight."

A Buddhist layman sitting below clasped his prayer beads tightly and sighed softly. He remembered the most recent occasion, when a young colleague was promoted thanks to a project he himself had helped support. Instead of feeling joy, he had felt a burning heat rise in his chest, together with the thought, "The boss must be playing favorites"—even though he knew full well the young man's abilities.

The Teacher seemed to read that very thought, and he emphasized, "This jealous heart is the greatest barrier separating us from greatness. If we cannot overcome it, then no matter how many years we practice, we remain ordinary beings. But if we can train ourselves to feel genuine admiration for those beside us—for those less capable than we are, and for those more successful than we are—that is the key that opens the door to noble virtue."

The Teacher concluded with a gentle message that carried great weight.

"Ask yourself this: 'Tell me whom you praise, and I will know the depth of your virtue.' It is easy to praise the dead. Praising the living—those who compete with us—that is the true test. And when we can do this, we spend not a single coin, yet we are planting seeds of greatness for countless lifetimes to come."

The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates the subtle difference between rejoicing (feeling glad for another) and admiration (deep and sincere respect). The core lesson is that the jealousy inherent in ordinary beings often obscures our ability to recognize and appreciate the goodness in others, especially those who are near us or on the same level as ourselves. To transform from the ordinary into the great, a practitioner must cultivate a heart of genuine admiration, without regard for closeness or status, seeing it as the golden key that opens the door to merit without any material cost.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang