Keeping the Lamp Lit for Our Teacher

A lay practitioner shares how she protected her teacher’s virtue and reputation against the traps set in worldly life. Through this experience, she came to fully understand the meaning of honoring the Buddha and respecting the Sangha.

On a late afternoon at year's end, pale golden sunlight stretched across the temple courtyard. In a small living room, I sat listening to a female Buddhist who had just returned from abroad. She wore an ao dai in sky blue, holding a cup of tea but not drinking it, her gaze fixed on the distance.

"Venerable sir," she began, "in America, my teacher called me in the middle of the night. His voice trembled, choked with tears, saying he had been trapped and blackmailed. He felt stuck, not knowing what to do." She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued: "My husband and I decided to advise him to report to the American police. We could not allow them to destroy his reputation like that."

I sat silently, feeling a mix of compassion and worry rising within my heart. She recounted how, thanks to their protection, the teacher escaped the trap that had been laid. Then, lowering her voice, she added: "Now over there, no monk dares to go anywhere alone. If they wish to travel, they must have four or five people accompanying them, because one never knows where traps are set for our teachers."

Her story reminded me of the teachings of the senior masters: to honor the Buddha is to respect the Sangha. But respecting the Sangha is not merely about bowing or making offerings; it also involves protecting monks in four aspects: their livelihood, their safety, their virtue, and their reputation. Protecting your teacher’s virtue is a delicate and profoundly important duty.

I recall once visiting my teacher at the temple. While sitting on the veranda, I saw a young woman dressed provocatively walking straight into his room. My heart tightened instantly. I did not know her business, but I knew what I had to do. I stood up, followed her, entered the room, and spoke softly: "Venerable sir, I have a matter to discuss. If this lady has any needs, perhaps I can assist?"

The girl turned around, looking slightly annoyed. "I have private matters with the teacher," she said. I smiled, gentle yet firm: "The teacher is busy. You may tell me, and I will convey it to him." She hesitated for a while before leaving. I breathed a sigh of relief. I knew I had done a small thing that might help my teacher avoid unnecessary gossip.

This incident brought to mind my teacher’s words: "Protecting your teacher’s virtue ensures that their spiritual journey remains smooth and complete. When they grow old, they become a flawless jewel for countless beings to rely upon."

However, protecting a teacher’s reputation is even more challenging. I remember hearing a layperson describe how malicious individuals deliberately trap monks, then fabricate lies and slander to ruin their credibility. They spare no tactic, whether involving money or romance, to tarnish the image of practitioners. If Buddhists do not stand up to protect them, rumors—even false ones—can deeply wound a sincere cultivator.

I suddenly recalled the history of Nalanda University. In the thirteenth century, when Islam invaded India, only one hundred extremists entered this university, where ten thousand elite monks were studying, and slaughtered them all. Blood flowed like rivers. Buddhism in India declined and vanished thereafter. Today, visitors to India see only desolate ruins. This shows that the survival of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) is tied to the safety of the Sangha.

Sitting quietly, I asked myself: If there were no teachers practicing day and night, reciting sutras, meditating, and keeping precepts, what would this world be like? Every sutra line they read, every hour of meditation, every precept they uphold brings blessings and joy to life. Teachers are living mirrors for us to rely on and learn from. Yet sometimes, we unintentionally or intentionally harm their image, causing them distress over trivial matters.

Thinking thus, I realized I must do more. It is not enough to ensure my teacher has food and clothing; I must also protect them from traps and slander. When I sense something amiss, I will not hesitate to step forward, bear witness, or skillfully intervene. This is not disrespect; it is a way to keep the teacher pure, so others have no excuse to speak ill.

That afternoon, before leaving, I approached my teacher and pressed my palms together in reverence. He looked at me and smiled kindly. I felt an unusual warmth in my heart. I knew that each small action of mine, even a single word or gesture, could contribute to keeping the lamp of mindfulness lit for generations to come.

**The Meaning of the Story**

Through this narrative, Venerable Thich Chan Quang reminds us that honoring the Buddha requires respecting the Sangha. Respecting the Sangha is not just about making offerings or bowing; it means protecting monks in four areas: livelihood, safety, virtue, and reputation. A true Buddhist should be an effective protector of the Dharma, always ready to defend genuine monastics so they can practice peacefully, perform Buddhist activities, and help maintain and spread the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) in the world.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang