The Shock by the Stream and the Journey to Reclaim Faith

The night sky at Thuong Chieu Meditation Center was so still it felt eerie. The flickering oil lamp cast long shadows of bamboo trees onto the cold earth. Insects chirped continuously, like a melancholic song, yet for the young monk, all sounds were drowned out by a massive explosion that had just torn through his heart.

Those were the years when his entire monastic life rested on one foundation: absolute faith that the Mahayana Sutras were truly the Buddha’s words. For him, they were not merely scriptures but the very reason for leaving behind worldly temptations, emotional entanglements, and fleeting fame. He chose this path because he was moved by the sacred feeling of teachings that were vast and magnificent, far beyond ordinary human imagination.

But then, one afternoon, while sitting beside a senior monk close to the Abbot (whom the community affectionately called "the Old Master"), an offhand remark from the senior struck like ice water thrown directly onto the burning flame of his spiritual resolve.

"The Old Master says... the Mahayana Sutras were not spoken by the Buddha."

The young monk’s eyes widened, his lips trembling, unable to speak. His whole body seemed to freeze. This was not just new information; it was the collapse of an entire value system. If Mahayana was not the Buddha’s teaching, then what did all those years of chanting mean? What about the silent tears shed over the Avatamsaka and Lotus Sutras? Were they all meaningless? Or worse, wrong?

In that moment, a dark thought crossed his mind. Had there been the Saigon River nearby, perhaps he would have jumped in to end this pain. But around him were only small streams, barely waist-deep, not deep enough to bury a shattered faith. He swallowed his tears, continued to live, continued to breathe, but with a heart empty and full of doubt.

Time passed, and the meditation center moved to Thuong Chieu. The Abbot began the annual retreat, teaching again from the most basic fundamentals. There were no longer lofty dharma talks about infinite universes or the sands of the Ganges that made heads spin. Instead, there were slow steps returning to the roots of the Nikaya and Agama traditions.

He vividly remembers those late nights, where pale yellow oil light illuminated rough, black recycled paper—rare materials at the time. The Nikaya texts were printed hastily, fragile, tearing if turned too quickly. Yet, with hands trembling from lack of sleep and anxiety about his future, he read every word, every line.

"Why do these two systems oppose each other so fiercely?" he asked himself, eyes fixed on the Chinese characters of the Madhyamaka Treatise, which remained untranslated.

The Abbot’s method of teaching was unique, resembling university-level study. He said, "I will teach you the Madhyamaka Treatise, but you must find the text yourself and translate it." At that time, common Vietnamese translations did not exist. He and his fellow monks struggled with ancient characters, analyzing and interpreting them independently. When logical connections were broken or missing in old prints, he had to deduce and patch together the flow of meaning.

Every evening, instead of resting, the monks sat on the floor, debating each point. The next morning, anyone could be called upon by the Abbot to stand, read the Chinese text, translate it into Vietnamese, and explain its meaning. The pressure was heavy, but it was precisely this pressure that forced him to see through the issues.

Gradually, like clouds dispersing after a storm, the truth became clear. He realized that the history of Buddhism has its own laws. The emergence of Mahayana Sutras was not a forgery, but a necessary need, an expansion of wisdom to suit the capacities of beings in different eras. Theravada and Mahayana are not enemies; they are two sides of the same coin, representing the foundation and the development.

When faith was rebuilt upon solid knowledge, no longer blind belief, he felt relief. He understood that using an ordinary mind to count the sands of the Ganges or imagine infinite universes would surely lead to madness. But approaching these concepts with the pure mind of an awakened practitioner makes them seem normal, even opening doors to new horizons.

The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates the transformation from emotional faith to experiential wisdom in engaging with Mahayana Buddhism. It emphasizes that the differences between schools, such as Theravada and Mahayana, are not antagonistic contradictions but necessary complements in the history of spreading the Dharma. Practitioners need patience and thorough research from the roots to understand the core spirit correctly. This prevents falling into extremes of denial or blind acceptance, thereby maintaining spiritual resolve and contributing to harmony among Buddhist traditions.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang