The Oil Lamp and the Oral Transmission of the Sutras

This is a story of how the disciples in the time of the Buddha learned the sutras through oral transmission under an oil lamp, preserving the precious teachings through memory, and the lesson of humility and diligent effort.

In the evening on the forest of Rajagaha, the last light of day faded, giving way to the darkness that covered everything. In a small hut, an old teacher sat in the lotus position on a platform, his eyes half closed, before him a flickering oil lamp. The young disciple sat on the ground, robe draped over one shoulder, hands joined, heart full of reverence. The teacher began to recite:

"The World-Honored One dwelt at Rajagaha, in the garden of Anathapindika, together with the great assembly of monks..."

The teacher's voice was deep and warm, unhurried, each word falling into the quiet space. The disciple listened intently, trying to commit every sound, every syllable to memory. When the teacher finished a passage, he gestured:

"Recite it back."

The disciple took a breath, imitated the teacher's voice, and recited it exactly. But only halfway through, the teacher shook his head:

"Not yet right. This part needs more emphasis. Recite it again."

The disciple bowed his head and recited a second time, then a third. When he had it by heart, the teacher nodded with satisfaction:

"Good. On to the next passage."

That was how the sutras were learned in those days. There was no paper, no books, only memory and perseverance. The teacher transmitted by word of mouth, the disciple memorized, and then passed it on to the next generation. In this way, the Buddha's words were preserved through countless generations, like that oil lamp which kept burning through the long night.

But within that stream of history, there is one story I have never forgotten. It is the story of King Pasenadi, who ruled over Kosala, a golden age of Buddhism. He was a close friend of the Buddha, of the same age, and they held each other in deep respect. When he came to the throne, he wholeheartedly supported the Three Jewels, built monasteries, and invited the Buddha to teach the Dharma. But then dark karma descended. His son, King Vidudabha, swayed by slander, seized the throne from his own father. One morning, King Pasenadi went to the monastery to visit the Buddha. He removed his shoes, left his sword, and handed his seal to the gatekeeper. When he turned to leave, everything had vanished. He stood before the locked city gates, with nothing left in his hands. He fled to Magadha, seeking refuge with his grandson, King Ajatasattu, and died in bitterness and resentment. Afterward, King Vidudabha led his army to slaughter the entire Shakya clan. It was a heartbreaking tragedy, revealing the impermanence (anicca) of power and fame.

Amid all these upheavals, the scriptures continued to be transmitted by word of mouth. But one question has long weighed on my mind: how could the Buddha teach the Dharma to people in many different lands, speaking different languages? Some say he used miraculous powers to understand the language of each place. Others believe he had learned many languages since childhood. However it may be, the Buddha's words were memorized and passed down. It was not until the time of King Ashoka, some two hundred years after the Buddha entered nirvana, that the scriptures were first written down in the Pali language, thanks to the Third Council.

One of those who contributed most to this was Prince Mahinda, son of King Ashoka. He ordained as a monk, practiced with diligent effort, and was then commissioned to lead a missionary delegation to the island of Sri Lanka. When the ships reached shore, the people of Sri Lanka, seeing the prince of a mighty empire dressed in the saffron robes, knelt down and spread flowers to welcome him. They embraced Buddhism as the state religion, and the entire Nikaya canon was carried to Sri Lanka and preserved intact. Thanks to this, when Islam swept into India, burning temples and killing monks, the scriptures remained safe on that distant island. This was a great merit, for it allows us to distinguish the original scriptures from those that developed later.

The meaning of the story:

The greatest lesson here is humility and diligent effort. People in ancient times learned the sutras through memory, reciting them again and again to preserve the precious teachings. Today, we have printed books and computers, but if we do not apply ourselves to study, if we do not keep a reverent heart, then even a whole treasury of scriptures is of no use. Let us be like that disciple under the oil lamp: persevering, patient, and always keeping a heart of humility toward the teacher and toward the true Dharma.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.