The Insight of the Teacher and the Lesson on Steadfastness

The atmosphere in the dharma hall was solemn. The wind rustled through the ancient trees, creating a gentle symphony. Before the assembly sat a teacher with a straight back, eyes half-closed as if deep within his inner world. Yet, his words were sharp, cutting through vague illusions like a blade.

He told a story about meeting a fellow practitioner who claimed to have attained enlightenment. This person had undergone a long and arduous path of cultivation, so many initially believed him. However, when he declared that one of his disciples had also realized the fruit of awakening, absolutely no one believed it. Why? Because people saw fragility and a lack of depth in that disciple’s conduct. No matter how reputable the master was, recognizing a disciple’s attainment without living proof from their own actions made both humans and spirits shake their heads in doubt.

"If I point to a nun sitting here right now and say, 'This nun has attained the stage of sainthood,' would you believe me immediately?"

The teacher’s question silenced the entire assembly. A few whispers rose briefly before fading away. He continued, his voice slow but heavy with meaning.

"You might feel joy or surprise, but what comes next? You begin to watch closely. You scrutinize her every blink to see if she is pure. You observe her every step to check if her posture is steady and dignified. Even when she goes to the restroom or lies down to sleep, you stand outside the door, peering and judging. Why? Because you have not seen substantial merit in her practice, so you must verify every tiny detail."

The image of curious, scrutinizing eyes was vividly painted for the listeners. It reflected the common human psychology: it is hard to accept greatness if it appears suddenly without a foundation of accumulation. The teacher emphasized that this period of observation could last three years. Only when every word spoken by the nun was mature, every action wise, and her demeanor perfectly harmonious, would people dare to exclaim, "Here is a saint!" It is not easy to accept anyone as holy unless they have walked a rocky, resilient path of cultivation.

The teacher shifted to the story of the meditation retreat at Phat Ngoc Xa Loi Pagoda. He looked directly into the eyes of each Buddhist follower, his tone serious.

"When you make the vow to come here for a meditation retreat, remember that this is not a place to 'practice for fun.' If you are tired one day, you rest; if you feel well another day, you attend. If the teacher scolds you, you get angry and leave. That is the mind of the weak. Practicing meditation means entering the core of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma). It requires the heart of a warrior—majestic and indomitable. There is only the path forward, no stepping back. Even if you die, you must move forward."

A young Buddhist in the front row gripped the edge of his robe, his face pale with fear. He thought of the times he had wanted to give up halfway because the effort felt too great. The teacher seemed to read his thoughts and explained further about the consequences of retreating.

"Why must you not step back? Because when you quit, you do not just lose your own opportunity. You also damage the spiritual resolve of about thirty other people who are watching you. They see your perseverance and want to follow your example. If you give up, they become discouraged and quit too. That sin is heavy. It is like pushing others off a cliff."

The teacher gave a specific example of practicing in daily life, where sitting in full lotus position takes up only a small part of the time. Most moments are spent being busy or idle. He described a meditator washing dishes after a meal. Instead of letting the mind chase conversations nearby or wander aimlessly, the meditator tried to maintain mindfulness, clearly knowing the whole body and remembering its impermanence (anicca).

"At first, you will forget. Someone beside you calls out, 'Please pass me the soap!' and you immediately leave your awareness of the body to reach out. That is losing mindfulness. But do not be discouraged. At night, go before the Buddha statue and repent: 'Today I was careless; I lost awareness of my body too often. I promise to abide fully in my body more tomorrow.' Continue this way, year after year, and gradually, you will see miraculous changes."

The teacher concluded with an image of a successful practitioner. After two years of persistently contemplating the impermanence (anicca) of the body, the small ego diminished. That person no longer felt annoyed standing behind others, nor embarrassed when assigned to clean the toilets. On the contrary, they performed the humblest tasks with calmness and joy, having overcome attachment to the temporary self. This is the true beauty of the path, opening from persistent effort in every breath and every step, whether in simple manual labor or complex intellectual work.

The Meaning of the Story

The core lesson Venerable Thich Chan Quang wishes to convey is absolute steadfastness on the path of meditative concentration. Meditation is not a pastime or a whimsical choice, but a sacred commitment requiring the iron will of a warrior. "Stepping back" harms not only oneself but also negatively affects the surrounding community. Furthermore, realization cannot be achieved through rumors or hasty recognition. It must be proven through substantial merit in practice, continuous alertness in daily life (abiding in the whole body, contemplating impermanence), and internal transformation from ego to non-self (anatta). Only when one deeply understands the lessons of perseverance and mindfulness in every moment can the practitioner truly approach the fruits of sainthood.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang