Knowing Your Faults Is the Beginning of True Practice

The lamps in the Buddha hall at Mat Da Pagoda were lit while the sky was still dim with early dawn. Soft golden light fell upon the serene statue of the Buddha and cast shadows over rows of old wooden chairs. Nun Dam Chung stood with hands pressed together before the altar, her chanting steady and warm. Yet her mind drifted outward to the small village surrounding the pagoda, where humble thatched roofs lay silent in the morning mist. She had just returned from a trip to the district town, where the provincial Buddhist administration is located, and her heart felt heavy with concern.

She had recently spoken to Venerable Thich Chan Quang when he visited the pagoda. Her voice had dropped low, like wind passing through bamboo groves. "People here know little about the path," she said. "They do not know how to practice or cultivate themselves. Their spiritual hearts are weak." The Venerable listened in silence for a moment, then spoke gently. "In many places, people are passive. They do not come to the temple on their own initiative. Therefore, we must go to them first."

These words fell like seeds into the barren soil of the nun’s heart. She understood deeply. For decades, she had lived within this ancient pagoda, which is over three hundred years old and recognized as a national historical site. It had once served as a healing center for soldiers and writers during wartime. She had watched generations of villagers pass by the temple gates, yet few ever entered. They looked at the half-closed wooden doors and the moving figures of monks and nuns, then turned away. To them, the temple was merely part of the scenery, not a place for refuge.

Venerable Quang continued, his voice firm as if forging each word into the listener’s heart. "When teachers take charge of a temple, the first thing they should do is climb to the roof and look out in all directions. Wherever you see a rooftop, you must reach out to every household there. Visit each person, each family. This is not about flattering or burdening others. Go as a monk or nun with pure precepts, visiting to share the Dharma bit by bit. Move from house to house like an uninvited guest. When people grow fond of you, they will come to the temple and begin to practice. First, create a mobile temple by bringing the teachings to their homes. Once they understand, they will return to the fixed temple."

Nun Dam Chung felt her heart tighten. She knew this truth but had never dared to imagine leaving the temple grounds to bring the Buddha's teachings to every home in the village. Her monastic life had been defined by waking early, sweeping the courtyard, bowing to the Buddha, chanting sutras, and receiving visitors. It did not include knocking on doors under the scorching sun of Thanh Hoa or during sudden afternoon rains.

Venerable Quang sensed her hesitation. He smiled and shared a memory. "In the past, when I taught young monks and nuns, I told them: Climb to the roof and look around. Reach out to every household you see. Visit each person, not to flatter them, but as a practitioner with integrity. Share the Dharma gradually. Eventually, when they feel affection, they will come to the temple. We must first be a mobile temple, carrying the teachings to their doorsteps. Only then will they return to our permanent home."

The nun nodded, though worry still lingered in her eyes. She knew that achieving this required more than patience. It demanded a team of Buddhists willing to step out of the safety of the temple and face the coldness and unfamiliarity of the villagers. Venerable Quang seemed to read her thoughts. He addressed the Phat Thanh Buddhist assembly directly.

"This year, your task is to guide and save the villagers around Mat Da Pagoda. By next year, when I return, every household must have come to take refuge with the nun. If even one family remains outside, I will make the entire assembly kneel in penance." A burst of applause followed, mixed with shy laughter. The Buddhists sat in the hall, some hesitant, others eager, but all understood that this was no easy mission.

Venerable Quang did not allow time for doubt. He instructed them to divide into teams and assign clear responsibilities. "Borrow a map of the hamlet and divide the areas. Each team knows exactly which zone and how many families they will visit. Tell them you represent Nun Dam Chung from Mat Da Pagoda, coming to visit the community. Mention that upcoming ceremonies and repentance sessions are approaching, so you are checking in. Offer prayers for the deceased and blessings for the sick. Ask if anyone has passed away so you can dedicate merit for their peaceful rebirth."

He emphasized the importance of presence. "Show them that the temple exists and is a spiritual refuge. Give them dharma discs and keep visiting until you become familiar. If you cannot build a connection in a year, then accept defeat. People only spend fifteen minutes getting to know someone in life, but I am giving you a full year. If that fails, so be it."

A small flame ignited in Nun Dam Chung’s heart. The path ahead was rough, but it was now clear. She imagined the young, enthusiastic members of the Phat Thanh assembly stepping out of the temple, carrying dharma discs and blessings, knocking on doors amidst the stifling heat of central Vietnam.

Yet the greatest challenge was not the weather or the strangers’ indifference. It was the practitioners themselves. Would they have enough patience and humility to persist despite rejection? Could they recognize their own faults, thereby understanding the Dharma well enough to share it with others?

Venerable Quang lowered his voice, stressing each word. "When do we truly begin to practice? When do we develop sufficient spiritual heart? When do we actually step onto the path? The answer to the first question is: when we begin to know our own faults. The second is: when the desire to renounce worldly life arises. The third is: when we attain mindfulness and clear comprehension."

The assembly fell silent. Eyes glistened with emotion. Some bowed their heads, gripping their robes tightly. Others looked up, tears forming. The Venerable continued. "Knowing your faults is profound. Many misunderstand this. If asked, 'Do you know how to practice?' some say, 'I go to the temple daily and chant sutras.' But that is not true practice. Sitting in meditation, bowing, chanting, and making offerings does not mean you know how to practice. You are learning, but you do not yet know."

He shared a gentle story. "Once, a young woman invited me to her home. I expected something special, but found she knew nothing of the Dharma. I asked what she did for work. She replied, 'I just broke up with my husband.' Surprised, since she was beautiful, I asked why. She simply said, 'It is because I am inadequate; I could not keep him.' That single sentence, free of blame toward her husband, touched me. I believed she would find happiness."

Nun Dam Chung felt a pang in her chest. In daily life, blaming others is far easier than accepting fault. Yet this acceptance, however painful, is the first step on the path. "Knowing your own faults is difficult," Venerable Quang explained. "First, you need wisdom to see them. Second, courage to admit them. Third, humility to acknowledge them. Without these, you will always defend yourself and hide your errors, never seeing them clearly."

His words washed over the nun like water cleansing dust. She remembered her youth, full of dreams but also pride. She thought herself good because she avoided smoking, drinking, and affairs. How could she have faults? But when she began to meditate and look inward, she saw her selfish ego, her anger, and her careless words. All were faults.

Venerable Quang spoke from the depths of his soul. "Before I became a monk, I studied the Dharma eagerly. Looking back, I saw countless mistakes. I complained to my mother, who said I was a decent young man. But inside, I knew better. After ordination, I confessed my errors to senior monks. One elder said, 'Next year, you will see even more faults in this year.' He was right. Now, as a senior monk with over five years of full ordination, I still see new errors. The more I practice, the more I realize my past mistakes."

Tears stung Nun Dam Chung’s eyes. She understood that the path is not about perfection, but continuous awareness of faults and relentless effort to overcome them. "Fortunately," the Venerable added warmly, "my mistakes became the source of my teachings. People praise my lectures, but few know they stem from my own errors. These lessons move hearts because they are born from personal failure. Similarly, when you share the Dharma, the most authentic truths come from your own recognized faults."

His words echoed in the hall, mingling with the temple bells and incense smoke. The nun felt the power behind these simple statements. To be a teacher worthy of reliance, one need not be supernatural or perfect. One only needs to know, accept, and transcend one’s own faults.

"Transform your mistakes into teachings," he urged. "If you study without seeing your faults, your lectures remain dry and soulless. They lack blood, flesh, and life. But if they arise from self-awareness, they carry the weight of sweat, tears, pain, and regret. That is where true strength lies."

Nun Dam Chung’s heart overflowed with emotion. She recalled moments of anger toward disciples, selfishness in keeping good things for herself, and impatience in teaching. Though small, recognizing these faults brought repentance and clarity. Her mind grew lighter and brighter.

Venerable Quang concluded with a quiet question. "So, when do we truly start practicing? When we begin to know our faults. This sounds simple, but it holds magic and hardship. We practice to see our errors, feel remorse, and overcome them. Through this process, we naturally become teachers whom beings can rely on. There is no mystery in it."

Nun Dam Chung pressed her palms together before the Buddha, her heart filled with light. The road ahead was long and difficult, but she was ready. She would join the Phat Thanh assembly, step out of the temple, and walk toward every rooftop, every