The Novice Monk's Stories Under the Oil Lamp

When night fell on the countryside, the flickering oil lamp in the small temple shed a weak light, and the chirping of crickets outside the fence filled the air. The devotees had just finished their evening chanting. Holding their lanterns, they walked quietly toward the gate, their figures disappearing onto the uneven dirt path. The young novice monk watched them, his heart aching with pity, for they had nothing joyful to do and were leaving so early.

He had come from this village temple to join the larger Đại Tùng Lâm monastery. The place was remote, the path muddy and pungent, the village quiet. With no electricity, the nights were lit only by the trembling flame of an oil lamp. The devotees would come to chant and then leave. Sensing a lack of depth in their practice, the young novice felt restless.

He approached the head monk, pressing his palms together respectfully, and pleaded, "Dear teacher, may I have permission to tell the devotees stories from the Buddha's teachings? So they have something joyful to hear, instead of just chanting and leaving right after."

The head monk scratched his head, looked at him, and replied, "Well, well, alright then. After the chanting is done, have them sit. You can speak to them then."

With permission granted, the novice would work in the fields during the day. In the afternoon, before the chanting, he would bathe, open the sutra of the Wise and the Foolish, and choose one story. After the evening chanting, he would clap his hands and call out, "Everyone, please stay seated! I have a story to tell!"

The devotees would sit down. The novice would retell the story he had just read, adding his own simple embellishments and a bit of analysis to help deepen their faith. An elderly devotee would nod and say, "Oh, that was wonderful! Listening like this makes my heart feel so much lighter."

The novice would smile, the flame of passion burning brightly in his eyes. From those nights under the oil lamp, the whole neighborhood gradually grew familiar with the sound of sutras and stories. Everyone began to stay longer than before.

Years later, when he had grown, the novice realized that those story-telling sessions were an unintended practice that honed his power of persuasion. It was not only from a formal lecture podium that one becomes a teacher.

The entire village’s faith grew stronger because of it. The temple bell each evening seemed to guide people’s hearts toward peace. And the young novice of yesteryear now carries within him a precious treasure, gained from those simple nights of telling stories.

**The Meaning of the Story**

Teaching does not only happen in formal lectures. Simple practices, like sharing everyday stories, are also steps that train one’s charm and persuasive ability. A teacher must learn to use the circumstances at hand to keep the listeners’ hearts engaged.

*Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang*