The Robe of the Practitioner

On a quiet morning atop an empty mountain, not a soul was in sight. The wind blew gently, leaves rustled softly, and birds occasionally called to one another. I stood breathing in the fresh air when my hiccups returned. From early morning until now, they had come back again and again like a strange drumbeat, causing me great discomfort. It was likely due to something hot that I had eaten.

A farmer living nearby noticed this and approached with a friendly face, though a mischievous glint sparkled in his eyes. He spoke with me for a while, then suddenly stared at my back, his expression changing as he shouted, "Oh heavens! There is a centipede crawling inside your robe!"

I was startled, my heart pounding wildly. My instinct for self-preservation surged, urging me to hastily remove my clothes and shake them out. But then, a thought flashed through my mind: "As a practitioner, how can I be so panicked and clumsy?" I took a deep breath, steadied my trembling hands, and slowly removed my outer robe, shaking it gently. There was no centipede. When I turned to look at the farmer, he was grinning broadly, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Teacher, I teased you to make you angry so the hiccups would stop," he said. "But since you did not get angry, please just endure it."

I suddenly understood. He had meant well, trying to cure me using folk wisdom: making someone angry stops the hiccups. Yet, I felt no anger. I stood there smiling, silently thanking him. I realized that without years of meditation and contemplating the impermanence (anicca) and illusory nature of this body, I might have erupted in hatred. The feeling of irritation rose like waves but settled down as if it had never existed.

We practitioners sit in meditative concentration daily, observing the impermanence (anicca) of the body. We see clearly that this form will age, fall ill, die, and turn to dust. Once we see this truth, any touch upon the body—whether insulting words or rough actions—no longer disturbs our peace. Ordinary people cling to this body as "self," so they become angry when it is touched. But practitioners must gradually practice letting go, so that even in unexpected situations, we maintain equanimity.

It is not only the body, but also possessions and reputation. Once, I heard two nuns talking while performing merit-making duties. One complained, "The neighbor's chickens keep scratching at my fence; it is so troublesome!" The other smiled and replied, "They scratch the fence, not you. Why be angry?" With just those words, I knew the second nun had made progress in her practice. She had separated possessions from the ego. The first nun clung to the house, the yard, and the fence as hers, so she felt disturbed when they were touched. Practitioners must let go gradually, starting from the body, moving to possessions, and finally to reputation.

Reputation is what ordinary people value more than life itself. Ancient Japanese samurai considered honor paramount, ready to commit ritual suicide to preserve it after defeat. However, practitioners do not hold onto such notions of reputation. Why? Because if the self (anatta) is not real, what is there to defend? When people insult us, we do not get angry because we do not view ourselves as anything significant. We are merely dust and grass. Yet, we still maintain moral integrity and dignified conduct—not for ourselves, but for sentient beings. Beings need the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) to rely on and light to guide them through darkness. Monastics are those who kindle that light. Therefore, we live decently and seriously to inspire faith in the path, not for our own sake.

When we understand this, there is no contradiction between enduring insults and living a serious, upright life. Everything is done for the benefit of sentient beings and the preservation of the Dharma, not for our small ego.

The Lesson

This dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang teaches that a practitioner has no reputation or ego to protect. All efforts to maintain dignity and moral conduct are motivated by compassion for sentient beings and the longevity of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma). Through this understanding, we can endure all insults while still living a life of integrity and seriousness.