Seeing the danger in every small fault

The morality of a sage shines like the sun and is as lofty as the full moon, with its three thousand dignified manners and eighty thousand subtle practices that ordinary people cannot fully perceive. In truth, there are moral shortcomings that we think are small but that lead to very large consequences later, which we cannot foresee. That is why the Buddha taught the monks: to keep pure moral conduct, one must “see the danger in every small fault”. To break through to the meaning of this sentence, we must practise for several hundred lifetimes or more.

A true practitioner, with bright wisdom, sees his own faults from the moment they begin to sprout, from very small matters, unlike ordinary people, who only recognise a mistake after doing something monstrous. We often think our fault is negligible, yet in the eyes of the Buddha and the sages, those faults that seem small are big problems and not simple at all.

For example, in a family, a father asks his child: “Why did you come home from school late today?” The child snaps: “The teacher let us out a bit late. Why do you keep asking?” If the parents are careless, they treat it as a trivial matter, thinking: “The child must be tired from school and a bit irritable,” and let it pass. But to wise parents, the child's slight irritability and disrespect is no small matter. Because a child who does not respect their parents will grow up arrogant, haughty and spoiled, and then sink into moral decline... They will be disrespectful to their elders, contemptuous of their peers and those younger than them, and trample everything underfoot, including plants and animals. If such a person holds a position of responsibility in the world, they will be ready to sell out their country. The gate of hell is already waiting. Even a little sharpness from a child is enough to foretell a great danger later on.

So wise parents, the moment the child snaps, immediately call the child over and talk, find out the cause, analyse the later consequences, and then ask whether the child knows it was a fault. They may not beat the child, but they make the child choose their own punishment. They help the child see their fault, fear it, and never dare repeat it. These are wise parents, who see the danger hidden behind faults that seem very small.

It is the same on the path: the Buddha taught the monks to see the danger in every small fault, because there are always things we find quite ordinary whose destructive power is very great. For example, in the past a Patriarch attained the Way and taught many disciples. After many years, he saw one outstanding disciple rise far above the rest, about to attain the fruit of stream-entry (although this is the first and initial fruit, it too is not easy: it takes a dozen or so years of diligent practice, much hard work in meritorious deeds, and deeply established wholesome roots). He praised the disciple:

- You are very diligent; you will soon have the result.

A few days later, when the disciple came, he was astonished:

- The fruit you were about to attain has been lost.

The disciple knelt down and said:

- Master, I do not know where my fault lies.

After entering concentration to observe, the Patriarch said:

- A few days ago, when you went up to the main hall to pay homage to the Buddha, you leaned the staff you were carrying against the image of the Buddha's face carved on the wall. Because of this, the sacred fruit you were about to attain has been lost, and who knows when you will be able to attain it again.

Because of one very small matter, the monk lost the chance to attain a sacred fruit; it is truly regrettable.

Or in China there was a meditation master of lofty attainment and pure moral conduct. One day, while he was sitting in meditation, a deity suddenly appeared. He asked:

- Who are you?

- Venerable, I am the Spirit who guards the precepts.

At that time, although his mind and his life were already as clean as ice and snow, the master still asked humbly:

- Tell me, do I still have any fault?

- Venerable, you are very pure, but you still have one small fault: after eating, bits of rice and soup are still left stuck on the rim of the bowl, very little, but still belonging to the donors who offered it in faith.

From then on, whenever the venerable finished eating, he poured water into his rice bowl to rinse it and drank it so that no leftover food remained. It is because of this story that in Buddhism the Patriarchs are extremely frugal, not daring to waste a grain of rice, a grain of salt, a fruit on the branch, knowing that all of it belongs to heaven and earth and to the donors who give in faith. Having practised so carefully all their lives, when they take leave of this life they depart at ease, because they have no faults and owe nothing more to this life.