Knowing Right from Wrong

Late afternoon at Tran Bao Pagoda, the golden sunlight had faded upon the ancient trees. A gentle breeze carried the faint scent of lotus flowers, and the evening bell resonated, reminding all of time's quiet passage. In that peaceful atmosphere, the Venerable's Dharma talk was like a cool stream poured into the heart, guiding listeners toward a profound truth: the wisdom that knows right from wrong.

Yet this wisdom is not some lofty, distant thing. It begins with the most ordinary matters in daily life, where we face choices between right and wrong, between emotion and reason.

Imagine a middle-aged woman who regularly came to Tran Bao Pagoda to practice. Each visit, she sought out a young monk who would patiently talk with her and listen to her worries. He was gentle and kind, always making time for her even when the pagoda was busy. Gradually, she came to esteem him more than the other monks. She saw him as thoughtful and caring, and felt a warm comfort in his presence.

One day, she heard the abbot had decided to discipline this beloved monk over some minor fault. Her heart tightened. A flame of anger erupted within her. "How can the abbot do this? My teacher hasn't committed any serious offense!" she thought, her hands clenching until her fingers turned white.

That anger, initially just a small flame kindled in her heart, grew rapidly. She began to view the abbot with different eyes. Each time she saw him, she felt irritation, even seeing him as incompetent and lacking insight.

One day, when someone asked her about Tran Bao Pagoda and its abbot, she uttered a cold remark: "The abbot may seem that way, but he's not very wise." That single, impulsive sentence carried with it a whole overcast sky within her.

Then her actions changed. She decided to stop offering rice to Tran Bao Pagoda. "This abbot is no good. I'll take my offerings to a different temple," she told her relatives, her voice full of anger. She redirected her offerings to another temple, one without the abbot she deemed "unwise."

At that moment, had a wise person been observing, they would have seen clearly: she had made a grave mistake. Her selfish anger had clouded her reason. She could no longer distinguish right from wrong. She was viewing the situation through the lens of emotion, through her bias for her beloved teacher.

However, if she had stopped there, failing to recognize her own fault, the consequences would have been incalculable. The angry mind, the critical speech, and the act of hindering offerings—these are precisely the three karmas of body, speech, and mind that create painful outcomes.

But fortunately, moments of awakening exist. If in the instant the anger first arose, she could recognize: "My mind is wrong now. This anger is unjust. I am being biased, viewing the matter irrationally." Had she realized this, she would have taken the first step onto the path of the noble and wise.

This is the wisdom the Venerable sought to impart. Wisdom is not something supernatural, but the ability to see reality as it truly is, unclouded by personal feelings, selfishness, or a petty sense of "self." Knowing right, knowing wrong, knowing fault, knowing merit—this is the foundation of wisdom in Buddhism.

In this world, how many are like her? How many lose their reason because of personal feelings? How many, out of fondness for one person, are ready to speak ill of or harm another? This is the mark of an ordinary, unenlightened mind, of beings still drifting in samsara.

The noble and wise, however, are those who, the moment a thought arises, immediately recognize: "This thought is wrong." They do not need to wait until after acting to feel regret. They live with wisdom, with awareness in every moment.

This wisdom does not come naturally. It must be cultivated, honed through daily practice, through facing difficulties and challenges. And Buddhism, with its spirit of "seeing things as they truly are," always opens its doors to those who wish to come with reason and genuine understanding.

Therefore, remember: on the path of practice, the wisdom of knowing right from wrong is the guiding lamp. It helps us not lose our way, not make mistakes, and proceed on the path to liberation. Only when we truly know right from wrong can we live better lives and contribute positively to society and our country.

**Meaning of the Story**

The wisdom of knowing right from wrong is the foundation of Buddhism and the door to entering holiness. When we recognize our own wrong thoughts the very moment they arise—be it anger, bias, or selfishness—we are living with true wisdom. This mindfulness prevents us from creating negative karma, harming others, and allows us to progress on the path of practice. Wisdom is not a supernatural, distant thing, but the ability to see reality as it is, unclouded by emotion or personal attachment.

Compiled from a Dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang