Words Before Practice

At dusk, the dirt path before the temple courtyard was hazy with dust, dry leaves rustling underfoot. A Buddhist layman had just stepped out of the lecture hall, his eyes still bright from hearing a dharma talk on living with ease: without greed, without hatred, the mind unmoved by praise or blame. His heart was excited, the teacher's words still echoing within him, and he wanted to share them with others right away, as if he himself were the author.

He came upon a friend sitting sadly on the steps, shoulders slumped, hand pressed to his forehead. He walked over and said eagerly:

"Brother, you must remain unmoved in this life. Whoever praises or blames you, stay calm. Whether poor or rich, keep the mind at ease, unshaken. These are the Buddha's words—remember them!"

His friend looked up and nodded, but he did not notice that his own hands were trembling slightly, eager to hurry home for lunch he had not yet eaten. He turned away, and just as he passed through the temple gate, a fierce dog suddenly burst from the banana bushes and bit him on the calf.

"Ah! Who let this mad dog loose! Heavens, how cruel, letting it bite me!" he shouted, face flushed red, hopping on one foot, eyes blazing with anger.

For seven days afterward, he cursed the dog's owner without cease, and his heart knew no peace at all. The turning point here is clear: he had just advised another to remain unmoved, yet the moment a dog bit him, he went mad. Reality turned completely against his words, simply because he spoke before he had practiced.

After that incident, he sat before the Buddha statue, looking down at his wound, still swollen, and thought quietly: I have borrowed the copyright of the Buddha's teachings without repaying it; without a foundation of practice, I have made myself a teacher of the world. Now my words have become wind blowing away, while the suffering remains untouched. He resolved to practice first, sitting silently in meditation every morning, enduring the pain in his leg without cursing anyone.

Months later, meeting his old friend again, he only smiled when he saw his friend's worry, then sat gently beside him without lengthy explanations. When his friend asked why he was so serene, he replied:

"I am learning silence and doing before speaking. Until I have finished doing, I do not teach anyone."

From then on, he abandoned the habit of playing teacher to the world. His life grew light and easy, and no adversity could stir up his anger the way the dog bite once had.

The Meaning of the Story

The Buddha taught of a common ailment: hearing a beautiful teaching and immediately repeating it to others as if one were the author, without having practiced it. Speaking before doing means we may never truly practice at all, because reality will turn against us at once. Let us diligently cultivate and live according to the teachings first, rather than hastily becoming an arrogant teacher who lectures others.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang