Who Do We Live For?

Late in the afternoon, a cool breeze drifted up from the lake, carrying the faint scent of grass and flowers at Phuc An Vien Cemetery. Hundreds of Buddhists sat in silence on neatly arranged folding chairs, their faces thoughtful and still. Venerable Thich Chan Quang stood on the podium, his gaze sweeping across the crowd before resting on a middle-aged man seated in the front row.

"Dear fellow practitioners," the Venerable said, his voice warm, "on this occasion of the Vu Lan ceremony here at Phuc An Vien Park, let us ask ourselves one question together. Up to this very moment, who do we live for?"

The man introduced by the teacher was Mr. Tam, the director of Phuc An Vien, a cemetery currently being developed into a spiritual sanctuary. He stood up, pressing his palms together in greeting. His smile was gentle, yet his eyes held an indescribable sadness.

"Ah, there is a funny story about this," the Venerable smiled, breaking the tense atmosphere. "A woman recently texted an ex-lover: 'Are you well?' The man was overjoyed and replied: 'Oh, I am fine. How are you these days? I miss you every day.' The woman answered: 'Wait, are you still alive?' She explained: 'Why wouldn't I be? I thought you had died. When we were dating, you said if you didn't have me anymore, you would die immediately. We broke up two months ago, so I just wanted to test it out. It turns out you are still alive.'"

A few light laughs rippled through the crowd, but the Venerable’s expression turned serious. "It is a humorous tale, but it teaches us something profound: apparently, in our lives, there is someone or something upon which we place our existence. Why do we live? Who do we live for?"

The Venerable paused, his eyes deep and contemplative. "When we are young, we do not know this. But at some point in life, when a situation, a person, or an issue captures all our love and our entire soul, we realize that we live for that thing. For example, as we grow older and experience romantic love, especially during adolescence, those feelings are intense. People think of each other day and night. When emotions consume them, they believe they cannot survive without that person, thinking they live solely for them. Without that person, they feel they cannot go on."

The Venerable looked directly into Mr. Tam’s eyes. "Mr. Tam, who do you live for?"

Mr. Tam slowly stood up, gripping the microphone tightly. The crowd fell completely silent. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. "Well... I live for this cemetery... for this work... because there aren't many people dying, right?" A few hearty laughs erupted, but his eyes remained full of reflection.

"Mr. Tam lives for the cemetery," the Venerable nodded. "That is one answer. But let us ask parents: 'Who do you live for?' What is the usual response? 'I live for my children.' Is that not true? Many people lack a purpose in life when they are young. Only after starting a family and having children do they realize their offspring seem to be everything. All hopes are placed in the child. If you ask parents who they live for, after much thought, they confirm they live for their children, working tirelessly and enduring hardships to raise and teach them, watching them grow. The clearest answer is: 'I live for my children.'"

The Venerable smiled kindly. "But now, if we ask the child: 'Who do you live for?' No child ever answers that they live for their parents. Correct? The child looks confused. Ask them who they live for, and they might say their lover. They love their parents, yes, but they never live *for* them. Why? Because of the law of nature and psychology: we live for what lies ahead, never for what lies behind. Our parents represent the past. Even if we love them deeply, we know they will eventually pass away. If we claim to live for our parents, does that mean we must die when they do?"

An elderly woman in the back rows raised her hand. "Venerable, if parents live for their children, but children do not live for their parents, whose fault is it?"

The Venerable shook his head. "No one is at fault. This is a natural law. We must accept it. We cannot force a child to live for their parents. However, parents must live for their children, as this is the natural moral order, dictated by heaven, earth, and conscience. Yet, we do not compel children to live for their parents. We only urge them to show filial piety and respect. As long as parents are alive, we must love and honor them deeply. Parents give us our entire life, offering immense love and sacrifice. Why do we practice gratitude and filial piety? So that we can continue living our own lives, rather than turning back to live for our parents."

"If parents lived for their children, and children lived for their parents, life would become stagnant. Therefore, there must be a downward flow. Parents live for their children, while the children will live for life itself, for humanity, for future endeavors, for society, for the country, and for the world."

The Venerable turned to an old soldier sitting in the corner of the yard. "If we ask a soldier holding a gun at the border: 'Who do you live for?' The answer is clear: he lives for the nation. If he did not live for the nation, how could he dare stand there under enemy fire? In moments where life hangs by a thread, yet he still raises his weapon against the enemy, who is he living for? Clearly, he lives for his country."

The old soldier nodded, tears welling in his eyes. "Yes, when I was young, I fought in Cambodia. Back then, I thought simply: I live for my country, and I am ready to die for it."

"And if we ask a musician: 'Who do you live for?' We usually hear two answers. First: 'I live for art.' They devote their whole heart, emotions, and creativity to music. Without music, they feel dead. Second: 'I live for my lovers.'" The Venerable chuckled. "Some musicians have too many romances; their emotions are scattered everywhere, causing all sorts of suffering in the world."

A young man raised his hand. "Venerable, who do Buddhist monastics live for?"

The Venerable looked him straight in the eye, his voice lowering. "They live for the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), for sentient beings, for compassion, and for moral truth. These are the sublime ideals they dedicate their lives to following. Because the Dharma is so profound, they renounce worldly pleasures and devote their minds entirely to cultivation. This answer is incredibly noble, sacred, and great. May they truly embody this. May they speak from the heart. Those who dedicate their minds fully to the Dharma and to sentient beings are called genuine practitioners."

The Venerable was silent for a long time, then continued with deeper gravity. "But there are strange cases. Consider leaders with fiercely loyal subordinates. If the boss commands death, they obey instantly. When factions fight, they shield their master with their bodies. Who do these followers live for? They live for their boss. We may not understand why, but it stems from karmic conditions from previous lives. In a past life, they incurred a massive debt. Before dying, they made a powerful vow. Spoken in high emotion, that vow carried them through subsequent lifetimes. Upon meeting again, they serve with extreme dedication and loyalty, ready to die for their master."

Mr. Tam suddenly spoke, his voice choked with emotion. "Venerable, I... I once had a servant like that. My entire family faced an accident, and she rushed in to save me, getting severely injured herself. She told me: 'You gave me work and fed my family so we wouldn't starve. I vow to serve your family for lifetime after lifetime.' I never imagined that was... a vow from a past life."

Tears rolled down Mr. Tam’s cheeks. The Venerable nodded. "Indeed, such cases exist. Or consider those who live for their legacy. They possess merit from past lives, building vast enterprises with many employees and branches. They love their children, but not more than their business empire. They live for that legacy, viewing it as pride, value, and reputation. They sacrifice their entire life, pouring their heart and effort into building it."

The Venerable turned back to the audience. "Then there are those who have nothing left to live for, no reason to stay, and choose suicide. This means they poured all their love, purpose, and hope into something that shattered, leaving them feeling life was no longer worth living. This is most common among youth, driven by intense, impulsive, and passionate emotions. Their hearts invest heavily in love, so when romance fails, they feel life has lost its meaning."

"If we encounter someone attempting suicide, how do we save them?" the Venerable asked.

An elderly woman in the front row raised her trembling hand. "Venerable, if a girl climbs a bridge to jump, we pull her back and ask why. If she says her lover left her, we say: 'Here I am, I love you.' She stops trying to kill herself!"

Everyone laughed, but the Venerable nodded approvingly. "Does this lady have experience with this? Her answer is perfectly accurate. One must offer a new source of affection, a new hope, to stop the despair."

"For instance, if someone climbs a building intending to jump, we pull them back and ask why. They say they lost a football bet. Brazil lost to Germany seven to one in the World Cup, so they feel there is nothing left to live for. They mortgaged their house. What advice do we give? Tell them: 'Please live to bet again. But this time, do not bet on the ball; bet on cause and effect (karmic law).' The football rolls back and forth; it is fickle, temporary, and cruel. There is another ball we should care about more, one kicked by human conscience. That is the ball of merit and demerit."

The Venerable spoke slowly and clearly. "Live and play the game. But what game? Play the game of karma. Keep your life’s ball from rolling into darkness. That ball is far superior to any other."

His voice grew somber. "We have listed many reasons to live for something. But truly, whatever noble ideal we cite, there remains a hidden self within our motivations. Parents live for their children, but partly for themselves, as the child is their love and their support in old age. Couples live for each other, but because the partner brings them happiness, so they reciprocate; the ego is still present. Soldiers fight for the nation, but discipline drives them, and the glory of victory motivates them."

"Nevertheless," the Venerable stated firmly, "having something to live for, someone to live for, is still nobler than those who, when asked, have no answer and live indifferently and unfeelingly. Such people are quite pitiable. We are adults with moral understanding; we must define ourselves. Ask who we live for, and have a clear answer. Do not let life drift aimlessly. Do not live without awareness, unsure of your purpose."

The Venerable surveyed the crowd. "Every purpose we choose creates karma for future lives. Parents who live for their children will be reborn into stable, respectable families with loving guidance. Two people who swear to live for each other share a deep bond, but limited blessings, as their focus is narrow. Those who live for the nation gradually rise in status, holding positions of responsibility. Artists often reincarnate as deities in celestial realms, serving heavenly beings."

Mr. Tam stood up again, his eyes brightening. "Venerable, from today, I will live for this cemetery, for the departed, and for the living. I will transform this place into a spiritual park where people come to remember ancestors and reflect on life. This is my purpose."

The Venerable smiled, his gaze benevolent. "There, Mr. Tam has found his answer. Then live for it. As long as we have a reason to live for something, we remain noble souls in this world."

As dusk settled, a gentle breeze swept through the trees, carrying the scent of yellow chrysanthemums. Hundreds of Buddhists remained seated, each holding a new question in their hearts: "Who do we live for?" Perhaps, starting this evening, they would begin seeking their own answers.

**The Meaning of the Story**

The story "Who Do We Live For?" reminds everyone to ask themselves about the purpose and meaning of their existence. Each person needs a clear "reason for living"—whether for family, country, art, or the Buddha's teachings (Dharma)—so that life does not pass by meaninglessly on instinct alone. Those with ideals find motivation to strive, contribute, and live beautifully. Simultaneously, every purpose carries its own cause and effect (karmic law): whatever we live for determines what we encounter.