The First Scar and the Lesson of Impressions

The atmosphere in the ancient temple was solemn, with the faint scent of incense mingling with the distant ringing of bells. Yet for a young man stepping into this sacred space for the first time, everything felt chaotic and more frightening than anything he had ever experienced.

It was a Sunday morning, with gentle sunlight filtering through the leaves, but inside the young man’s heart, emotions churned uncontrollably. He was a lay practitioner who had recently taken refuge only a few months prior, still bewildered by the customs and rules of the monastic life. Driven by curiosity and a desire to feel close to the image of compassion, he did something that would make him shudder even when recalling it years later: he climbed onto the high altar and sat right beside the Buddha statue to look closely.

Before he could savor the feeling of being "near the Buddha," a strong hand suddenly grabbed his collar and yanked him backward. A harsh shout echoed violently through the silent space.

"Who gave you permission to climb up there? That is disrespectful! Get down immediately!"

The sudden pull caused him to lose his balance, and he fell flat onto the cold brick floor. The physical pain was only part of it; the greater burden was the overwhelming shame and fear that spread throughout his body. His heart pounded wildly, his face turned pale, and tears welled up from humiliation. He did not understand why he was treated so roughly, especially since he was merely a newcomer who did not yet know which areas were reserved for monks and nuns, and which were for lay followers. From that moment on, the image of the temple became associated in his mind with strictness, anger, and fear. He told himself, "I will never return here again."

But life always holds unexpected turns. Several years later, having matured and begun to explore the teachings more deeply, he accidentally heard another story. It also concerned first impressions, but carried a completely opposite color.

The story went that about twenty years ago, during a time when the country faced many hardships, a young artist traveled to a remote rural area for work. Exhausted from hunger and thirst after walking dozens of kilometers under the scorching midday sun, he found himself desperate. His pockets were empty, and his legs felt as heavy as stone. In his moment of deepest despair, he spotted the curved tiled roof of a small temple peeking out from behind a bamboo grove.

He dragged himself step by step into the temple courtyard, his voice hoarse and trembling as he spoke to the nun sweeping the yard.

"Nun... please, I ask only for some leftover rice and soup, and a sip of water. I am so hungry..."

The nun stopped her broom and looked at him with gentle eyes, free of any judgment or suspicion. She smiled and nodded.

"Come in and rest. Let me prepare a meal for you."

That simple vegetarian meal, accompanied by a cup of cool green tea, saved both the body and spirit of the artist. Not only did she feed him, but she also asked after his well-being with care and invited him to sit under the shade of a tree. That small act, that harmony and loving-kindness, left an indelible mark on his heart for the rest of his life.

Later, as society developed and negative rumors circulated about the monastic community—regarding misconduct or bad habits of certain individuals—the artist simply smiled sadly. He remembered that lunchtime years ago and the kind gaze of the nun. He shared with his friends:

"A sugarcane has its rotten nodes, and a house has its leaking spots. I met a shining example, a true practitioner embodying compassion. So no matter what others say, I still believe in the Buddha's teachings (Dharma) and the beautiful values this religion brings."

Two stories, two destinies, and two different first impressions led them down separate paths. If the young man had not been fortunate enough to encounter good conditions (dependent origination) later in life, he might have permanently distanced himself from the Triple Gem because of one tug on his collar. As for the artist, thanks to one bowl of compassionate food, he maintained his faith and became a powerful protector of the Dharma.

A teacher explained that the first lesson upon entering the door of Buddhism is not just scriptural knowledge, but emotional impression. It is like a scar carved into the soul. If that scar is made of aggression, it creates an invisible barrier. If that scar is made of warmth, it opens a door leading to liberation. We must be careful with every word and action when welcoming strangers, for we are shaping their spiritual future.

The Meaning of the Story

First impressions when encountering Buddhism have a profound and lasting influence on a layperson's faith. An attitude lacking compassion, marked by anger, can push people away from the true Dharma forever. Conversely, a small act filled with love and tolerance can plant seeds of virtue that endure. Practitioners must recognize their responsibility in creating positive "first lessons," using compassion as the foundation to welcome and guide everyone.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Most Venerable Thich Chan Quang