The Sound of Buddha Recitation in the Mountains: A Lesson in Truth

The morning air on the mountainside was cool, mist still clinging to the canopies of ancient trees. Birds chirped merrily, mingling with the wind whistling through crevices in the rocks, creating a quiet symphony of nature. In that stillness, a figure in a brown monastic robe walked slowly up a steep, narrow path. It was the Master, his bare feet calloused from years of wandering, searching for a suitable piece of land on which to build a temple as a refuge for sentient beings.

Suddenly, from up ahead, a jarring sound broke the natural serenity. "Namo Amitabha Buddha! Namo Amitabha Buddha!" The recitation of the Buddha's name echoed loudly across the mountains and forests—not a gentle, silent recitation within the heart, but shouts full of energy, as if to awaken heaven and earth. The Master paused, slightly surprised, and wondered: "Could there really be such unusual practitioners in this place?"

Following the sound, the Master walked a few steps further and saw an elderly man in monastic clothing, head shaved, holding an incense bowl with three sticks of incense trailing smoke. He was reciting the Buddha's name in a very loud voice as he walked, each syllable punctuated by a forceful step. Upon seeing the Master, he stopped and offered a friendly smile, though he still maintained his own distinct view of the world.

"Greetings, benefactor," the old man called out, his voice still carrying the resonance of his recitation. "Where are you headed, that you've wandered into this desolate place?"

The Master pressed his palms together in greeting and smiled gently:

"I am going over there to survey the terrain, looking for a good piece of land to build a temple."

The old man nodded, his face growing more enthusiastic:

"Very good, very good! I am heading in that direction as well. Let me show you the way. In fact, it was thanks to my sincere heart and this resounding recitation of the Buddha's name that I found my first piece of land."

The two walked on together. Throughout the journey, the old man continued his habit of reciting the Buddha's name loudly, startling birds into flight. The Master listened and observed, and a deep reflection arose within him. This image brought to mind a core teaching about the Pure Land method that the Master often shared.

The Pure Land school, in terms of practice, centers on reciting the Buddha's name. But how should one recite it correctly? Pure Land theory is based on scriptures such as the Contemplation Sutra on the Buddha of Infinite Life, which speaks of the Land of Ultimate Bliss and the welcoming embrace of Amitabha Buddha. The ultimate aim is that at the moment of death, the practitioner is reborn in the Buddha's land. However, the key that opens that door lies not in the volume of the recitation, but in the state of "single-minded, undisturbed focus."

The Master thought of the elderly women in the countryside, those who spent their lives quietly sweeping courtyards, cooking meals, caring for grandchildren, murmuring the Buddha's name silently in their hearts. They needed no one to know, no far-reaching echo. Their minds were settled, and inner joy arose from their focused devotion. It is precisely this quiet, inward gathering of the mind that is the essence of Pure Land. By contrast, the old man's boisterous recitation, though it may have sprung from earnest enthusiasm, lacked inner stillness—and so it was not yet true practice, but merely an outward performance.

When they arrived, the old man pointed to a flat plot of land covered in fresh green grass, then hurried away, leaving behind the sound of recitation that gradually faded and fell silent. The Master stood there, gazing at the surroundings, his heart full of emotion. The divisions within Buddhism today largely stem from people clinging to outward forms, to different "branches and leaves," while forgetting the shared "root." Some who practice meditation look down on those who recite the Buddha's name as superstitious, while some who recite consider meditation to be arrogant. In truth, the eighty-four thousand dharma methods are all branches and leaves of a single tree of liberation.

The Master reminded himself that his task was not to judge whether the old man was right or wrong, but to help people understand the essential nature of practice. If we see only branches and twigs with different roots, that is not the Buddhism that leads to liberation. Tolerance must be accompanied by the wisdom to discern what is wholesome and what is not. A proper dharma method must guide people deep into the spiritual life, bringing peace and purity—not creating noise or division.

## The Meaning of the Story

This story illustrates the fundamental concept of a dharma method: a method is the combination of practical technique and theory, aimed at going deep into the spiritual life and attaining liberation. For the Pure Land school, the essence lies not in loud or noisy recitation, but in "single-minded, undisturbed focus"—a state of mind that is concentrated, settled, and pure. Clinging to outward forms while neglecting the inner heart leads to misunderstanding, and even to division within the Buddhist community. We should regard all dharma methods as branches and leaves of one shared tree, so that we may both respect diversity and uphold the foundation of ethics and wisdom.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thích Chân Quang