A Lighthouse Amid the Sea of Fire of Our Age

Evening falls over a large temple in the suburbs. Pale golden sunlight slants through the rows of ironwood pillars, casting long shadows across the red brick courtyard. But instead of the lively laughter of hundreds of Buddhist devotees as in days gone by, the space is steeped in a silence that feels almost unsettling. Only a few elderly figures sit chanting sutras, the sound of the bell and wooden fish ringing out in solitude, like the sigh of an era that has passed.

This is not an isolated case. It is the common picture of many temples in the age of Industry 4.0. The abbot, a middle-aged monk with thoughtful eyes, stands gazing out toward the triple gate. He remembers the old days, when life was hard and people came to the temple as they would seek a peaceful harbor to release their suffering and pain. Now, material life is abundant, smartphones connect the whole globe, and people are busy with virtual worlds and worldly pleasures. The need to seek spiritual liberation seems to have diminished, or at the very least, people no longer place their trust easily in vague metaphysical promises.

A familiar visitor stops by, looks around the spacious but deserted temple, and sighs:

"Venerable Sir, this temple is so beautiful, so magnificent. But why don't people come? In the past, evenings were crowded; now I only see a few elderly folks. Could it be that the karmic obstacles of sentient beings are too heavy?"

The abbot shakes his head, a sad smile on his lips:

"Not karmic obstacles at all, benefactor. It is because we have not kept up with change. We still cling to a misunderstood version of 'non-abiding' and 'letting go.' We sit waiting for people to come, while other religions knock on every door, actively reaching out. The Buddha's path is gentle and full of compassion, but if gentleness becomes passivity, then it is a waste of the opportunity to save people."

He recounts a story he once heard from a senior Thai monk, a sharp warning meant for the young generation of monastics. That monk asked his disciples:

"When you receive a new temple, what is the first thing you must do?"

The disciples gave all kinds of answers: cleaning, organizing an inauguration ceremony, inviting guests... All were wrong. The senior monk said sternly:

"The first thing is to climb onto the roof of the temple. Stand there and look in all directions. As long as your eyes can still see rooftops, every one of those houses must become disciples of the Three Jewels. You must resolve to save them, no matter what."

That teaching was like a wake-up blow. It shattered the closed mindset of the "village temple," where the old master only concerned himself with chanting and reciting the Buddha's name for his own sake. In this new era, monastics cannot be separated from society. They must use cars, airplanes, bank accounts, and even smartphones. But that does not mean they become one with the worldly. On the contrary, they must use those very means to serve the practical benefit of the community.

The abbot looks out at the rows of houses crowded together. He tells himself: "I cannot sit here waiting. I must step out. I must do charity work, protect the environment, support poor students, donate blood to save lives. I must show society that the temple is not only a place to pray for peace or for the departed, but a center of culture, education, and compassion."

He recalls a teaching from the Prajna sutras. Many people misunderstand "form is emptiness" to mean doing nothing at all. But a bodhisattva performs countless acts of merit without clinging to that merit. It is like two people both saying "I am doing nothing": one is lazy and sits around playing, while the other sweeps, cooks, and labors from morning to evening without boasting. The latter is the one who truly practices. If you do not sow the seeds (teaching and serving), do not hope to reap the harvest (a flourishing community of disciples).

The evening wind blows harder, stirring the dry leaves across the temple courtyard. The abbot rises and straightens his robes. A resolve has kindled in his eyes. Tomorrow, he will no longer sit quietly in the main hall. He will step out, knock on every door, bringing cakes and fruit, words of care, and the love of the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) to those around him. For conquering a physical fortress is easy, but holding the spiritual fortress, transforming the temple into a radiant lighthouse amid the sea of fire of our age—that is the most arduous and most glorious battle of all.

The Meaning of the Story

This story reflects the reality of temples gradually emptying of devotees due to the changes of the times: rising material living standards, advancing technology, and competition from other religions. The lesson is that monastics cannot passively wait for people to come to them. Instead, they must actively "climb onto the roof of the temple"—that is, broaden their vision, engage wholeheartedly in practical social activities (charity, education, environmental protection), and apply the true spirit of the Prajna sutras: performing countless acts of merit without clinging to that merit. Only when a temple becomes a genuine spiritual and material refuge for the community can it endure and shine in this new era.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang