The Gate of Hell and the Flies at the Temple Gate

**Summary:** A story about the transition from the oil lamp era to the digital age, where the absence of flies at a temple gate signals a growing divide between the Dharma and daily life.

A few decades ago, darkness enveloped a small rural village. There were no noisy televisions, no cold blue glow from phone screens. Only the faint scent of incense mingled with smoke remained, and the steady sound of chanting echoed from the ancient temple roof. This was the world that Venerable Thich Chan Quang lived in when he first ordained—a world that was silent, yet warm with human connection.

Life back then was full of hardship. Houses were low and small, and at night, only the flicker of an oil lamp offered a weak light. When night fell, the villagers—from the elderly to the children—often had nothing to do but go to the temple. The temple was the only place with stronger light from the kerosene lamps, and more importantly, it was the most crowded place. People gathered to listen to chanting, to see one another, and to feel the breath of the community. If the abbot was a gifted storyteller who could share tales of the Buddha and great monks, that temple became the number one place in everyone’s heart. The Venerable still remembers those afternoons after returning from the fields, rushing to bathe just in time for the chanting, then sitting to listen to simple yet profound dharma talks full of meaning and affection.

But then, the flow of time brought constant change. The country began to prosper. Roads were built, and the electrical grid reached every corner. And along with artificial light, another kind of light—more dazzling and seductive—began to penetrate the human mind: entertainment technology. The Venerable recounts that pivotal moment with a tone that is both humorous and bittersweet.

"Back then, for the first time, the temple received a copy of the film 'Shaolin Temple' starring Jet Li. We had to watch it in secret, hiding it like thieves. Because it was unheard of for a monk to watch movies. But since it was about Shaolin, we consoled ourselves that it might be allowed. I sat there, my heart pounding, my eyes glued to the screen. The fighting was so intense! I had never seen such a dramatic spectacle before. From that day on, the gate to hell began to open."

That gate not only opened onto worldly entertainment but also gradually closed the door to traditional spiritual life. The era of the Internet, Facebook, and online games exploded. People, especially the younger generation, spent most of their time in the virtual world. They studied online, made friends online, and traded online. Real life, with its true values of spiritual practice, seemed boring and less attractive compared to the clicks, the likes, and the short videos that endlessly jumped to the next page.

The Venerable shares a telling detail, a simple yet haunting "test" of the decline of temples today:

"Whenever I pass by a temple, I only need to look at its gate to immediately judge how busy it is. I don't need to stay for a few days or ask anyone. I just need to see if many flies are buzzing back and forth. If I don't see a single fly, it means there is no food inside, no one coming to make offerings, no life force. It means the temple is very empty."

The image of the absent flies at the temple gate during the Vu Lan season—the largest festival of the year—makes one's heart clench. It is not merely the absence of insects, but the absence of faith, the absence of simple vegetarian meals cooked with a hospitable heart, and the absence of footsteps seeking refuge. Meanwhile, outside, technology 4.0 is covering everything. Artificial Intelligence is not only helping in production and medicine but is also creeping into the spiritual realm. Some temples abroad have created a "robot monk," placing a machine there so that anyone who is suffering can come and talk to it, and the robot will preach the Dharma. Whether the robot preaches better or worse is still unknown, but its existence proves that technology has reached the threshold of religion.

The Venerable poses a lingering question: Why are temples and people growing further apart? Whose fault is it? Is it because temples stubbornly refuse to progress with the times? When laypeople need to communicate via mobile phones, need to make quick offering transfers, but the monks still hold onto old ways, without bank accounts or smartphones, that invisible gap gradually becomes a wall of separation. People don't abandon temples because they hate the Dharma; they do so because they are forced to follow the flow of the world, while the temple remains standing still behind.

**Meaning of the Story**

This story reflects the real challenges that Technology 4.0 poses for Buddhism and traditional religions. The core lesson is not to reject technology, but a wake-up call about adaptation. If temples and monastics do not update their means of communication, do not understand the language of the age, and do not walk in step with society's rhythm, they will be left behind, leading to a decline in their positive influence on people's spiritual lives. However, no matter how much technology advances, immutable values like the law of cause and effect, the cycle of rebirth, and the personal effort to cultivate moral virtue remain essential and cannot be replaced by machines.

*Compiled from a dharma talk by Senior Venerable Thich Chan Quang.*