The Book of Merit

In the quiet afternoon at the temple, only the gentle sound of the bell ringing in the breeze remained. Sitting on the moss-covered stone steps, Grandpa Nguyen gazed into the distance toward the garden trees. His trembling hands stroked a yellowed notebook, inside which were meticulously written entries from years past. He sighed, turning the pages to look at the names and lives he had once connected to the Buddha’s teachings.

In his youth, he had been like everyone else, caught up in the struggles of making a living. Then, by chance, he heard a Dharma talk, and his heart felt an unexpected lightness and peace. From then on, he sought out the temple, took refuge in the Three Jewels, and practiced according to the Buddha’s words. He noticed himself changing: less anger, more patience, and a more selfless way of living. The people around him also became more pleasant; they respected and cared for him. He understood that joy in Buddhism does not arise on its own—it comes from bringing joy to others, and that joy then returns to you.

But one thing deeply troubled him: his only son. From childhood, the boy had been indifferent to the temple. Whenever Grandpa Nguyen invited him to go, he would find an excuse to avoid it. He preferred video games and hanging out with friends over listening to teachings. The grandfather tried everything: gentle persuasion, stern warnings, but all without success. Once, in frustration, he shouted, “Don’t you know that practicing is a great blessing? Why are you so stubborn?” The boy just hung his head in silence and quietly walked away. The grandfather sat there, his heart aching. He wondered, “After so many years of practice, why can’t I influence my own son?”

One day, he happened to read an article about a game in Japan called “Passport to Heaven.” People were given a small notebook listing good deeds they could do. Each time they performed a kind act, they would record it. If they completed one hundred good deeds, their wish would come true. After death, this notebook would serve as their ticket to heaven. He suddenly remembered his teacher’s words: “When we die, we take nothing with us except a book of our merit. That book is presented to the King of Hell. If it contains many names of people we helped encounter the Dharma, the King will not dare send us to the gates of hell, but will write a letter of introduction and arrange a carriage to heaven.”

The realization dawned on him. He had focused too much on his own practice and neglected the sacred duty of helping others, especially his own family, to understand and believe in the Dharma. Looking at his own book of merit, he found it pitifully thin, with only a few names. He blamed himself: “I am a follower of the Buddha, yet I have been unfilial to the Dharma, failing to guide my own child.”

From that day on, he changed his approach with his son. No more pressure, no more scolding. He gently told stories about compassion, about cause and effect, and about the shining examples of great meditation masters. He taught his son how to sit in meditation, how to breathe to calm the mind. They did small good deeds together: helping the elderly, picking up trash in public places, sharing food with the poor. After each kind act, the grandfather would take out the notebook, and together they would respectfully record it. He told his son, “My child, every good deed is a good seed planted in the earth. It will blossom and bear fruit, bringing happiness to ourselves and to everyone.”

At first, the boy was hesitant, even a bit annoyed. But gradually, he felt the peace and joy that came from helping others. He saw that his father was no longer frowning and impatient, but had become gentle and compassionate. One evening, after sitting in meditation together, the boy softly said, “Dad, I think going to the temple is actually nice. I feel my heart is lighter.” Hearing this, the grandfather’s eyes filled with tears. He embraced his son, his voice choked with emotion: “I am so happy, my son!”

From then on, father and son practiced and did good deeds together. The grandfather’s book of merit grew thicker, filled with many new names. He knew that when the time came to close his eyes, he would not be afraid, for he possessed a book full of meaningful actions. More importantly, he had planted the seeds of the Dharma in the heart of his beloved child.

**Meaning of the Story**

The lesson that the Most Venerable Thích Chân Quang wishes to convey is this: the sacred duty of a Buddhist is to help their children and loved ones to understand and believe in the Buddha’s teachings. This is not only a way to repay the Buddha’s grace, but also a way to ensure the Dharma is passed on and maintained. When we die, we take nothing with us except the merit we have created. Guiding others to understand the teachings is the greatest merit of all, and the ticket to a place of peace.