The Secret of the Elevator and the Mistaken View

That afternoon, the golden sunlight was fading over the worn tin roofs of a remote village. Mr. Tu and his son, dressed in coarse brown clothes faded pale by years of wind and weather, set foot in the city for the very first time. Their eyes opened wide and their mouths hung open at the bustle of the streams of traffic and the high-rise buildings piercing the sky. In that strange new world, there was one thing that made Mr. Tu stand frozen, his heart pounding like a war drum.

It was an elevator in the main lobby of a large shopping center. Mr. Tu tugged at his little son's hand, his voice trembling with wonder:

– My child! Look there! That glass box... it has magic in it!

The boy stared blankly in the direction his father was pointing. Just then, an old woman with snowy white hair and a bent back came shuffling in from outside, leaning on a bamboo cane. Slowly, she stepped into that glass box. The doors closed by themselves. Mr. Tu held his breath, his eyes glued to the glass doors, hazy with wonder.

One minute passed. Two minutes passed. Then suddenly, the doors opened. But instead of the hunched old woman, out stepped a young girl, beautiful and radiant, with rosy skin and a graceful, flowing walk.

Mr. Tu nearly collapsed to the ground. He turned to his son, his face ashen from sheer shock and excitement:

– Heavens! It truly is a miracle! An old woman went in there, and a few minutes later a beautiful young girl walked out! Run home and fetch your mother quickly — bring her here so she can become young again!

Before the bewildered boy could even react, Mr. Tu had already rushed off to find his wife, shouting loudly in the middle of the crowded street, firmly believing what he had just "seen with his own eyes." He was ready to argue with anyone who dared deny the plain truth he had witnessed. For him, "hearing is never as good as seeing," and the image of an old woman going in and a young girl coming out was ironclad proof of a supernatural power.

But what was the truth? The truth was so simple it was almost comical. Inside that building, the escalators were working as usual. The old woman had entered the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and then walked back down through the other levels, or waited somewhere along the way. As for the young girl, she may have come in from another entrance, or descended from an upper floor on the escalator, and simply stepped out at the very moment Mr. Tu was watching so intently. Two completely unrelated events — yet because of his narrow point of view and his ignorance of how an elevator works, Mr. Tu had stitched them together into a mythical tale.

Most Venerable Thích Chân Quang used this story to illustrate a painful reality in the life of practice. We often judge others, especially the abbots of temples, based on what our eyes see on the surface, forgetting that "seeing with our own eyes is not necessarily the truth." Sometimes we see a young nun warmly receiving wealthy guests, and we accuse her of playing favorites. We see her scold a lay Buddhist who has just arrived at the temple, and we think she is harsh. But we do not realize that behind those appearances lies a skillful strategy for guiding beings, a silent sacrifice, or simply a misunderstanding born of our not yet understanding the whole story.

The Meaning of the Story

The profound lesson this dharma talk wishes to convey is this: never rush to judge others, especially the teachers who guide our path, based only on the outward details our eyes can see. Just as Mr. Tu misunderstood the elevator, we easily fall into the trap of ego and ignorance, creating mistaken prejudices that bring harm to ourselves and to others. A devoted Buddhist needs to learn to look deeply, to listen more, and to hold firm faith in the merit of the monks and nuns, for what we see is only a very small part of the whole picture of their arduous and magnificent work of spreading the Dharma.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Most Venerable Thích Chân Quang.