The Mango of Childhood and the Vision Across Many Lifetimes

This afternoon, the lecture hall was unusually quiet. Outside, the golden sunlight faded gently through the tree branches, and the cicadas had grown sparse. Inside, hundreds of Buddhist faces looked up toward the dharma seat, listening intently to every word from the Teacher. The Teacher paused for a moment, scanned the room with his eyes, and then began to speak slowly.

“I remember things I thought were long forgotten, but sometimes they return to remind me of a lesson. When I was young, I once climbed over a fence into someone’s mango orchard to steal fruit.”

A soft murmur rippled through the hall. A few gentle laughs echoed briefly, but soon everyone fell silent again, waiting.

“Back then, I lived in a garden area next to a house with a mango tree. The fruits hung low, ripe and yellow, filling the air with fragrance. The gate was unlocked, and the owner was nowhere to be seen. Walking by, who could resist those large, beautiful mangoes? One day, my older sister woke me up during the hot noon sun and said, ‘Let’s go pick some mangoes for fun!’ So I listened, climbed the fence, and picked them. Stealing mangoes felt quite normal at that time; I did not think much of it.”

The Teacher smiled softly, his gaze distant as if looking back at his younger self.

“But if someone today were to look at that childhood behavior and conclude, ‘This boy stole mangoes; he will never be able to practice properly,’ they would have misjudged an entire person. A small act, in a brief moment, cannot define the whole of one life.”

The Teacher stopped, took a sip of water, and continued in a deeper tone.

“We often have the bad habit of judging a whole person based on a single angle. If we see someone do something good for a moment, we hastily praise them as entirely good. But perhaps they remain good for only three months before reverting to their old ways. Conversely, there are people who were previously very bad—greedy, deceitful, and dishonest. Yet, in a certain moment, they encountered the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), developed a love for the path, went to the temple, bowed to the Buddha, practiced repentance, performed merit-making duties, and showed remorse. We might assume this person has completely changed. However, their practice may be temporary. After four months, seeing that the temple is about to undertake a major construction project with significant funds, their old greed resurfaces. They flatter the abbot, gain trust, and then disappear with the money. We are surprised, but such is the reality.”

Some Buddhists shook their heads and sighed. The Teacher looked down, speaking gently.

“Therefore, when evaluating a person, we must not judge based on just one or two actions, nor within a short period. That is inaccurate. Our vision is too small, too narrow. As for the saints, when they examine a person, they do not look at just one lifetime, but consider thirty lifetimes. Thus, there are things we cannot forgive, which they forgive. And there are things we easily forgive, which they do not.”

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath. The Teacher concluded slowly.

“So, when looking at any event or any person, we must look broadly and far ahead. Do not rush to conclusions based on a small angle. Do not hastily despise someone because of a minor mistake, for perhaps their true nature remains good. Learn to see like the saints, perceiving across many lives and eons, so that you may attain tolerance and clear wisdom.”

The Meaning of the Story

This story teaches the difference between a narrow view and a broad vision. Do not rush to judge a person or an event based on a single action or a fleeting moment, for such a perspective is limited and prone to error. Expand your horizon, look further and wider, and understand the karmic law (cause and effect) across many lifetimes. In doing so, you cultivate the tolerance, compassion, and clear wisdom characteristic of the saints.

Compiled from the dharma talk of Venerable Thich Chan Quang