The Debt Called Desire

In a dharma talk at Di Đà Pagoda, in a stillness where only the distant ringing of a bell remained, the Venerable Thích Chân Quang sat upon the dharma seat, his gentle eyes moving across the assembly listening with such care. He began slowly: "Today we continue our teaching on the laws of psychology as seen through the Buddhist perspective. Last time we spoke about the warmth of physical form, and today I will speak about an instinct that is tremendously powerful and hidden deep within every person — the instinct for pleasure."

His gaze grew distant, as if seeing through the whole length of human history. He spoke of the structure of the cells in the body, of the genes that ceaselessly urge existence onward, of the sensory nervous system spread throughout the body, forever hungry for sensation. He said: "Our nervous system keeps searching for sensation, keeps searching for sensation. Without sensation, it feels a sense of lack; it makes us feel empty, uncomfortable, weary. So we must keep chasing sensation — even when that sensation is sorrow, even when it is joy — as long as there is some sensation at all, anything but emptiness."

Among the assembly, an elderly man in the front row nodded quietly in agreement. The teacher continued in a warm, deep voice: "It is because of this instinct for pleasure that people crave gratification, crave sensual delight, crave pleasure. It lies latent within every one of us, and only when one attains the noble fruit of Anagami — the Non-Returner — does that craving come to an end. Below that noble stage, the urge to seek pleasure still remains within our mind/heart."

He paused, looked around the dharma hall, and went on, his voice sinking lower: "And within this instinct for pleasure lies the most terrible instinct of all, one that has governed humanity from ancient times until now — the sexual instinct. Nature created the mechanism of sexuality to preserve the species, but human beings turned it into a form of pleasure. And when people become lost in it, they are no longer human; they have descended toward the beasts."

A young lay Buddhist at the back of the assembly bowed their head, shoulders trembling slightly. The teacher looked toward that person, his voice softening: "Do you know, my children, many people call that part of the body a 'precious jewel.' But let me tell you, it is no precious jewel at all. It is a debt. A debt to yourself, and a debt to life itself. Anyone who, out of craving for it, calls it a precious jewel is only deceiving themselves. From now on, whenever you hear the words 'precious jewel,' you should burst out laughing and say: 'No, that is a debt.'"

A few soft laughs rose in the dharma hall, but they quickly sank into silence as the teacher told his story: "Let me tell you about a mother in America. She had four children, and fearing they would be corrupted by the Western way of life, she sent all four to stay at a temple for a year to learn the ways of virtue. The eldest, the most unruly of them, became the most well-behaved after that year at the temple. He came to realize that there truly are people of moral character in this world. Before returning home, the mother offered the temple five thousand dollars in gratitude. When I received it, I called the eldest child over and said: 'Take this money back to your mother so she can raise your younger siblings. I will not accept it, because I know your mother over there is very poor — raising four children brings her such suffering.'"

He stopped, his eyes gazing far away as if remembering: "But there was also the youngest child, the innocent one, who had come to the temple just for fun and understood nothing of it. Four years later, the mother returned to see me, tears streaming down her face: 'Venerable Sir, my child has gone astray. She is only fourteen or fifteen, and she has already been bringing her boyfriend home to sleep with her. She says that over there, they teach them everything about how to make love starting from the fifth grade.' Hearing this, I felt deep pity, deep heartache. That way of life is now flooding into Vietnam through the internet, through films. The young generation today is becoming 'casual' about sexuality. And we must understand: we are descending. When people become lost in desire, we fall from the dignity of the human position down to that of the beast. But because those lost in it are so many, they vote it into law, protecting what they call that 'freedom.' They do not realize that society is sinking."

The teacher's voice grew more solemn: "Remember this: between the beasts, human beings, and the noble ones, there are many standards by which to measure, but if we take sexuality as our measure, it is the most accurate of all. Whoever is reckless with sexuality is descending toward the beasts. Whoever knows restraint is a human being. And whoever has renounced sexuality altogether is a noble one. As long as we can still restrain our sexuality, we remain human. But the moment we indulge without restraint, we instantly become beasts."

He looked around the dharma hall, his gaze as if wishing to carve each word deep into the hearts of those listening: "Sexuality dwells within the human body, and it becomes a debt that a person must carry. Do not think it is happiness. Many people, not understanding, keep calling it a 'precious jewel.' Oh, how much suffering it brings — there is nothing precious about it whatsoever. It is a debt. Later, if anyone writes about this in the news, write it like this: 'Mr. Nguyen Van A had his debt removed by his wife.' Remember it that way — do not write 'had his precious jewel removed,' for there is nothing precious there at all. That debt has been liberated; he should head off on his way right now."

Another round of gentle laughter rose, but this time a trace of deep reflection had appeared in many eyes. The teacher concluded slowly: "The instinct for pleasure and the sexual instinct lie within human beings themselves. They are the struggle, the contention between the ordinary person, the noble one, and the beast. The noble ones knew how base these instincts are, knew how they darken the human soul, and so they taught people to renounce and restrain them. But human beings keep losing themselves in them. And it is precisely that infatuation that has dragged humanity downward, from human to beast. Be awake, know restraint, so that you may preserve the dignity of being human."

The dharma hall sank into silence. The temple bell rang out from afar, reminding each person of a noble way of living that is slowly being forgotten amid the bustling current of life.

The Meaning of the Story

The instinct for pleasure and sexuality are hidden debts within every person, governing us and dragging us down toward the beasts if we do not know restraint. Those who can control their desires preserve the dignity of being human; those who indulge without restraint lose themselves. The Buddha's teachings (Dharma) call us to be awake and to practice, so that we may transcend these base instincts and move toward a life of purity and enlightenment.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang