Misunderstanding

In the late afternoon, the last rays of sunlight filtered through a weathered wooden window frame, casting a thin layer of dust upon a bronze bowl placed in the center of the room. The faint scent of incense mingled with the aroma of dried lotus flowers remaining on the altar. In that still space, the teacher’s words flowed like a slow stream, weaving into every corner of the mind and recalling an old story that remains timeless in its value.

Years ago, a head monk passed away, leaving behind two disciples beside his broken bamboo bed. The elder was the senior disciple, while the younger was the junior. By tradition, the senior would inherit the position of abbot and continue to manage the small temple in the poor countryside. However, the junior, who had attended to the master during his final years, harbored an intense desire within his heart: he wished to own a temple of his own.

Every night, after the last devotees departed, the junior sat alone in the rear hall. The flickering oil lamp illuminated his thoughtful face as he whispered to himself, "I stayed by the master’s side the longest. I chant sutras better. I understand the Dharma more deeply. I am the one worthy of being abbot." This longing grew with each sleepless night until it became a fire that burned away his inherent peace.

He began to act. During the day, he appeared obedient and served his senior brother faithfully. But whenever devotees visited the temple, he would whisper in their ears, "My senior brother is kind but lacks talent and virtue. I am the one who understands the Dharma profoundly. My chanting is even better than Master Chan Quang’s. He is the one truly worthy of being abbot."

These whispered words, gentle yet obsessive, began to seep into the minds of the devotees. They started looking at the senior brother differently, perceiving "naivety" and "rusticity" in his simple manner. They began to fidget and gossip behind his back.

Three days ago, when the sky was still dim with dawn, the senior brother—who had witnessed everything—quietly stepped out of his small room. He put on an old cloth robe and added two sets of clothes into a rough bundle. Without saying goodbye, he walked through the overgrown vegetable garden, reached the main road, and boarded the first bus leaving town. He left forever, never to return.

The temple, naturally, belonged to the junior. Now the abbot, he stood in the main hall with a satisfied smile. Proudly, he told his loyal disciples, "See? I did the right thing. I am the worthy one. How could such a naive, rustic senior brother propagate the Buddha's teachings?"

But what lay behind that smile? It was greed wrapped in the logic of "I am right." It was a profound misunderstanding of oneself, leading him to believe that ambition and contention were the correct path.

As for the senior brother—the one who truly "did the right thing"—he was the one who practiced letting go and yielding. He did not argue or justify himself. He simply left quietly, giving everything to his junior. He understood that fighting over a material temple at the cost of losing purity of mind was the true failure.

That story, though old, still echoes in the silence of this afternoon. It reminds us that deep within our souls, we all carry the phrase "I am right." We justify our actions with countless reasons, from "harming no one" to "fairness," but hidden beneath are often the smoldering fires of greed, hatred, and delusion. It is precisely this misunderstanding—"I am good enough," "I am right"—even if subtle, regardless of which dharma gate one follows, even if it is just "allowing someone to stay for a few days"—that becomes the wall blocking our progress on the path of practice.

The Meaning of the Story

Ignorance is not merely stupidity; deeper still, it is a misunderstanding of oneself and others. The belief that "I am already good" or "I am already right" closes off the path of goodness and halts progress. This story reminds us to always maintain a critical perspective, to recognize errors we mistake for truth, thereby opening the way for genuine spiritual cultivation.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang