Two Joys

The evening sky hung low, a pale grey over land still new to the sound of chanting. For the first time since ancient days, nearly ten thousand people gathered here for such a large collective Buddha recitation. The temple bells echoed, mingling with the footsteps of the crowd, creating an atmosphere that was both sacred and warm. Today marked a special gathering before the official opening of Bao Quang Meditation Hall, which had just received its license for religious activities.

On the dharma seat, the teacher smiled as he looked down at the assembly. His voice was gentle. "Today we have joy. But there are joys of ordinary beings, and there are joys of the noble ones. Today, let us speak about these two."

He paused, his gaze sweeping across the crowd, and began to tell a story. "Someone boasted that he had cursed someone else, slapping them several times without receiving any retaliation in return. Was he happy? He felt great satisfaction. That is the joy of ordinary beings. It disturbs the mind, breeds arrogance, and creates karma."

His voice dropped lower, becoming slower and more deliberate. "But consider another case. Someone shared that earlier, an old man had scolded him terribly. Seeing the man’s age, he thought the elder might be confused or misunderstanding something. He tried to endure it, apologizing repeatedly. No matter how harsh the words, he kept saying sorry. After about fifteen minutes, the anger faded. When he arrived here, he also felt happy. He was happy because he had practiced patience."

"This second kind of joy belongs to the noble ones. In our tradition, we call this peace. And it generates merit."

The teacher opened his discourse with a very familiar example. He spoke of Mr. Bao Phuc, a talented artist from the Nguyen royal lineage in Hue, whose family had moved south and lived through many hardships. After years of saving, the couple finally purchased their first small home.

"Mr. Bao Phuc told me," the teacher said, "that he could not sleep all night. He walked step by step, touching the walls, feeling the pillars, whispering to himself: 'This is mine.' Having a home for the first time in his life, never having one before, brought him such joy that he could not rest."

The teacher paused for a moment, then shared his own experience. "Today, I too have built a house."

Bao Quang Meditation Hall was complete. Visitors came to see it, praising its beauty. The teacher also walked around, touching the walls, but his words were entirely different. He murmured, "This house belongs to the Buddha. This house belongs to the Buddha..."

A disciple sitting nearby wondered aloud, asking softly, "Venerable sir, why do you say that? On paper, you are the owner."

The teacher turned to him with a benevolent smile. "You ask a good question. First, if I were not a disciple of the Buddha, if I did not teach the Dharma, would anyone give money to buy land and build this house?"

The disciple shook his head. "No, Venerable sir."

"Second," the teacher continued, "the money used to build this house is not mine. It comes from the offerings of Buddhist devotees. So, if I say 'this house is mine,' is that fair?"

A silence fell over the room. Then the teacher spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "Therefore, even though my name is on the title deeds, in the truth of heaven and earth, this house belongs to the Buddha, to all the monks and nuns, to the Buddhist Sangha, and it is an asset of Vietnam. I am merely a temporary resident, managing and using it in the most reasonable way, to benefit both the Dharma and society."

Having finished speaking, the teacher felt light-hearted. He explained that this was "joy," but not the joy of possessing private wealth. It was the joy of understanding the truth, seeing oneself as part of a greater flow. This is true peace.

To illustrate further, the teacher described a principle of living in the monastery. Whoever enters the gate must first receive love and must be fed. "The temple is home," he said. "We may lack many things, but we must never lack rice. Only after eating do we realize that the temple is truly our nest, our homeland."

He recalled a time when, after giving a teaching, he saw devotees leaving immediately. He asked, "Why didn't you eat first?" One replied, "What is the purpose of coming to the temple to eat?" Surprised, the teacher gently corrected them. "Devotees must eat at the temple! In the future, temples should ensure devotees can eat. Only when we share meals here do we feel the temple is home."

Then he added with a joke, "But once we eat, we might leave quickly. Why? Because the temple doesn't have toilets!" Laughter rippled through the assembly. The teacher explained that building toilets is the highest priority. Even if the main hall is unfinished, the facilities must come first, because they keep people staying.

Turning to the young guides, his tone became more serious. "Remember, when someone steps through the gate, go welcome them warmly. Guide them inside, show them where things are, explain how meals work. Understand the needs of newcomers: parking, toilets, food, rest. Only then comes practice. Practice is last. This is how we enact the compassion taught by the Buddha—welcoming others kindly and treating them with respect."

The teacher returned to the theme of joy, this time focusing on "receiving praise." He asked, "When someone praises us, are we happy? Is that joy of an ordinary being or a noble one?"

A devotee answered quickly, "Of an ordinary being!"

The teacher shook his head. "Not necessarily. If you hear praise and feel happy instantly, without reflection, that is the joy of an ordinary being—because you think it is your personal achievement. But if you hear praise and reflect: 'This is thanks to the Buddha, thanks to the teachings, thanks to my teachers, thanks to friends' support, thanks to past failures...' and then offer that praise back to everyone—then that joy is the joy of the noble ones."

He smiled. "It is like me. If someone says I sing well, and I feel happy immediately, I am being deceived. In reality, I sing poorly. But if someone strains themselves to praise me, I thank them for their effort. That gratitude is also a form of joy."

He then spoke about those who offered land for the meditation hall. If someone feels happy thinking, "Because of my offering, the teacher could build this," and walks around looking at every plot of land and pillar, feeling proud—that is the joy of an ordinary being, because they cling to credit. But if someone offers similarly, yet upon seeing the completion, lets go of their claim, thinking, "This is due to conditions, a mission entrusted by the Buddha; I only contributed a part"—that person does not have the noisy joy of an ordinary being, but possesses the peace of the noble ones.

"Letting go of credit is the wisdom of a bodhisattva," the teacher emphasized. "For clinging to credit lies deep in the subconscious, impossible for anyone to fully unearth."

The teacher compared wealth and poverty. He asked, "Is it better to be rich or poor?" The crowd answered, "Rich!"

He said, "Ordinary beings fear poverty and crave wealth. But noble ones prefer poverty. Why? We suffer because we want what we do not have. Noble ones extinguish that desire. Wanting nothing, they are never poor. We want so much that no amount is ever enough. Take me for example: I have Phat Quang Temple, but I want another in Nghe An, plus Bao Quang Meditation Hall, and more places still. As long as I want more, I remain poor. Therefore, I am the poorest person in this world!"

He shared a small story about using money. When he was young, a woman loved a man and asked him, "Can I marry him?" The teacher looked at the man and said bluntly, "He is more stingy than you. If you marry him, you will die." But she was in love and could not forget him, so they married.

Four years later, she returned to the temple with her child, telling of their divorce. There was no major fight, only a simple incident. They were poor and frugal. Once, she visited her grandmother, planning to stay three days, but returned early due to business. Entering the house, she found her husband had bought a lavish meal and was eating alone while she was away. She understood, remembered the teacher's words, and divorced him.

The teacher concluded, "When we have money and use it solely for ourselves, we enjoy it, but that is the path of an ordinary being, leading to negative karma. When we have money and use it wisely to benefit many, spreading joy, that is the peace of the noble ones, and merit increases."

Finally, the teacher spoke of humanity's greatest loneliness: "Having no one to love us, and having no one we can love." Happiness is having someone to love and someone who loves us. But if love is confined to a few, it is the joy of an ordinary being. If it extends to many, to infinite beings, it is the peace of the noble ones.

"Today we enter the temple, being polite and cheerful with each other," the teacher said. "But that is not true love; it is just courtesy. We must practice until, amidst this crowd, our hearts truly love everyone. Then, when we leave, we carry that heart out to love all people. Keeping that flame of love alive, never letting it fade—that is the happiness of the noble ones."

He ended with this insight: "Whoever keeps that compassionate heart burning will, when conditions arise, attain mindfulness and clear comprehension. Their mind will become empty, bright, and lucid, and that brightness will be hard to lose. For compassion is the cause, and the enlightenment of the noble ones is the effect."

The talk concluded as the evening light faded. Yet within each person seemed to burn a new flame—a flame of peace, born from letting go of "mine" to realize that everything belongs to everyone.

**The Meaning of the Story**

This narrative clearly distinguishes between two types of "joy." The joy of ordinary beings relies on possession, personal gratification, pleasure from praise, or the power to command. Such joy disturbs the mind, fosters arrogance, and creates bad karma. The joy of the noble ones is peace. It arises from patience, letting go of the ego, understanding that all achievements result from many wholesome conditions, and a willingness to share that joy with everyone.

The core difference lies in the mind. If the mind clings to self, credit, or possessions, even happiness is suffering within samsara (cycle of rebirth). If the mind practices letting go, cultivates compassion, and aims for the common good, then regardless of circumstances, one experiences liberation and peace. Understanding this and practicing it in daily life—from eating at the temple to using money, from welcoming others to keeping the flame of love alive—is the path from being an ordinary being to becoming a noble one.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang