The Trap of Lofty Prayers

**SUMMARY:** The story of a diligent practitioner still troubled by inner unrest, for their "noble" prayers were in truth a way of secretly nurturing the self.

The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the old temple’s window panes, casting a delicate layer of golden dust upon the Buddha statue. The last echo of the bell faded away, leaving a silence so profound it felt almost suffocating. In the corner of the meditation hall, Anh Minh sat cross-legged, his eyes half-closed, yet his mind churned like a stormy sea. It had been three years since he earnestly embarked on the path of practice, and today, a heavy sense of unrest returned, stronger than ever before.

He recalled those early days when he first stepped onto the path. Back then, his heart was filled with pure reverence for the Buddha. He believed that if only he paid homage and upheld the precepts, life would be peaceful. Yet as time passed, afflictions still clung to him. Work pressures, complex social relationships—they all left him weary. He wondered: “Why is it that I have done everything right? I bow to the Buddha every morning, maintain a vegetarian diet, recite the sutras regularly—why does my inner world remain chaotic? Why do bursts of anger still arise when someone offends me?”

One afternoon, while sitting in meditation, Anh Minh suddenly realized something strange. Each time he knelt before the altar, his silent prayers had become quite “refined.” They were no longer superstitious pleas for money or revenge against neighbors. Now, his prayers went like this:

“I vow to practice diligently to swiftly attain the fruits of sagehood. I aspire to one day possess enough wisdom and blessings from merit to liberate all beings, to guide and teach countless people.”

Reflecting on this, he felt the prayer was truly beautiful and selfless. It was far removed from ordinary, selfish thoughts. He smiled with satisfaction, feeling he had made great strides beyond the unenlightened masses. However, the very moment that pride flickered to life, a small yet sharp voice echoed within his mind—much like the teacher’s dharma talk from a few days before:

“Look closely at this seemingly grand prayer—who is the central figure?”

Anh Minh jolted. His heart tightened. He examined each word of his own vow. “I” will practice diligently. “I” will attain enlightenment. “I” will liberate all beings. Everything revolved around the “self.” This “self” was no longer crudely demanding material things, but had now draped itself in the cloak of spirituality and spiritual ambition. It grew, swelling under the guise of false compassion. He realized that instead of dissolving the ego, he was using the Buddha’s teachings to further adorn his self-identity. This secret “self,” nurtured by prayers that seemed correct, was quietly destroying his inner peace—leaving him perpetually uneasy, quick to anger when things didn’t go his way, or when he saw others surpass him.

That inner struggle lasted through the night. Anh Minh tossed and turned, his back drenched in sweat. He understood that the first step—reverence for the Buddha—was entirely correct. But the second step—using that reverence to serve the ego—was a fatal error. This deviation was so subtle that without clear awareness, one could remain forever lost in the illusion of their own practice.

The next morning, Anh Minh went to his teacher. With a trembling voice, he confessed:

“Venerable teacher, I now understand. My prayers were for my own attainment, my own prominence in liberating beings. I have turned the Dharma into a tool to bolster my ego.”

The teacher nodded gently, his gaze compassionate yet solemn:

“Indeed. Only a bodhisattva dares pray for ‘themselves’ without error, for their sense of self has become so faint, their wisdom beyond attachment. For us, if we are not careful, the loftier the prayer, the more the ego swells. Learn anew from the beginning. Rely instead on the vows of the ancient masters: ‘May this merit spread to all—disciples and sentient beings alike—so that all may attain the Buddha path.’ There, the ‘disciple’ is but a small part merging into the ocean of beings, not the center of the universe.”

From that day on, Anh Minh changed his way of practice. He no longer prayed for himself alone. Each time he paid homage, he contemplated non-self, reminding himself that all efforts in practice are a shared responsibility of the community—not a private ticket to personal liberation. Gradually, the unrest settled. He no longer felt disturbed by criticism, nor did he grow arrogant from praise. His life became light and serene, just as the teaching says: “An initial correctness does not guarantee correctness later, if we do not continually examine and correct ourselves.”

**Meaning of the Story** This story illustrates a profound lesson about the danger of the “self” hiding within outward forms of practice that seem correct. Paying homage to the Buddha is a solid foundation (the first step is correct), but if one’s prayers or motivations still revolve around elevating the self—even in the form of spiritual aspirations—then it is a mistake (the later step is wrong). Practitioners must remain mindful, continually turning their awareness inward to avoid turning the Dharma into a tool for nurturing pride, rather than dissolving it. The lesson emphasizes the need for continuous learning and reliance on wise teachers to discern between the subtle ego and true non-self.

Adapted from a dharma talk by Ven. Thích Chân Quang