Living simply

1. DEFINITION

Living simply means not using more than your duties require.

Those who follow the Buddhist path are looking for the way to liberation. For this reason, a simple life is a beautiful practice, a lofty one that everyone respects. Our Buddha, like the holy Sangha elders, lived an extremely simple life.

By this definition, we need to avoid extremes. It is not a matter of mortifying the body; it is a matter of living simply in keeping with our own duties. In life there are things the practice needs, and we still have to use them. We need only be careful about one point: we must not go beyond those needs into surplus, turning our life into one of luxury and splendour. This is a very subtle point, and those of us who practise must be careful about it. Living simply does not mean eating little and wearing little; it means choosing a standard of living that is just enough, one that suits our own circumstances. In life we can sense that people who live simply, with few needs and few desires, are somehow freer and more at peace than those who use too many things and live with too many needs.

To live a simple life, we must first be clear about what we are living for and what we actually need for our practice.

For us, we live in order to practise. To practise is to correct, to cultivate. First of all, we must correct our own inner life: moving from having many unwholesome thoughts to becoming a wholesome person, from narrowness and selfishness to greater altruism. Practice is the cultivation of the inner mind. So what do we need to use for the inner practice? Since we are practising in the mind, we do not demand much from outside. We need only enough rice to live on, enough clothes to wear and enough of a place to stay, with no need for anything spacious or grand.

A few centuries after the Buddha, a philosopher named Diogenes appeared. He lived near Greece, in the Middle East. His life was extremely simple, and his teaching was expressed in a life of ease and freedom. One could take him for some Bodhisattva of Buddhism reborn, because his life closely resembled the Buddhist one. In those days people's material life was still very simple and there were no comforts in daily living. He owned only a piece of cloth to cover his body and a bowl to drink water from. Once, on the road, he saw someone bend down and scoop up water in both hands to drink. He felt that the bowl he was using was superfluous and threw it away. That is, he limited his need for possessions to the utmost. People greatly admired him for a life so free and simple. When he offered a few words of advice on how to live, he still brought people happiness, peace and benefit. As a result, his fame spread everywhere.

At that time Alexander the Great was leading his army to conquer the world. He took the whole Middle East and crossed into India. When he conquered the Middle East, Diogenes' homeland, he heard of a famous philosopher and went to find him. The temperature there swings sharply: some seasons the heat is scorching, others the cold bites to the bone. At this time the Middle East was very cold. Diogenes had found a wooden barrel; at night he crept into it, closed it up and slept, and by day he came out to bask in the sun. This was the best way to drive out the cold that seeps into the body, using what nature offers.

While he was sitting in the sunshine, King Alexander and his retinue came riding up. From a distance he saw an old man sitting at ease and at peace, his long hair and beard flowing down, a cloth wrapped around him, resplendent in the sunlight. He dismounted and walked slowly forward, and the retinue behind him did the same. When he arrived, the king asked:

• "Are you Diogenes?"

• "Yes. What do you need?" he answered calmly.

The two exchanged only a few short sentences, but Diogenes' composed, unhurried and tranquil bearing filled King Alexander with admiration. He was an emperor, victorious in a hundred battles; everyone who heard his name was afraid, and only this stooped old man with his shaggy beard looked back at him with a calm gaze. He was deeply impressed. After a few short sentences he asked:

• "Sir, is there anything you need?"

He asked this because the king thought of himself as a king who had won a hundred battles, whose fame filled the world and who had countless riches at his command. If Diogenes needed anything, he would give it at once.

Hearing this, the philosopher replied:

• "Yes. I need you to move aside a little and not block the sunlight I am basking in. I would be very grateful."

It turned out that the king and his retinue had come from the east and, standing in a line, had blocked all of Diogenes' morning sunshine. Hearing this, the king turned to his retinue and said: "If I were not Alexander the Great, I would be Diogenes."

By today's way of thinking, a philosopher is someone who likes to reason and theorise. But in the old days the word "philosopher" was reserved for people of a very high spiritual life, like a master in India. Diogenes was such a person, a philosopher with a simple life whom everyone revered. The king saw the extremely simple, light and carefree life, and something very lofty radiating from the philosopher. He also longed and thirsted for such a life. But since he had already become a king, in so grand a position, he could not bring himself to give up his royal status. Without that status, he would have gone in search of a life as free and as liberated as the philosopher's. Plainly, we are not defending or exalting the philosophy of our own Buddhism here, for this story comes from outside Buddhism.

The story of the philosopher and the king shows us that a person who can live a simple life is a very lofty person. That is, such a person surpasses ordinary people, who like to live in comfort. The reason we like comfort is that deep in our minds there is an instinct for enjoyment and a thirst for happiness. This is also in keeping with the natural order and is recognised and protected by law. In Vietnam's Declaration of Independence, President Ho Chi Minh quoted from the American Declaration of Independence: "All men are created equal; they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

The pursuit of happiness is a human freedom, given by the Creator and recognised by law. So deep down everyone wants comfort: good food, fine clothes, a tall and spacious house, power, praise from everyone... This is ordinary, even to the point of being commonplace. Whoever overcomes this instinct for enjoyment, who does not want comfort and does not need happiness for themselves, has risen above the commonplace and become lofty. Such a person has conquered the instinct for enjoyment that lies within every human being. People like this are revered by the world as saints and as philosophers of the highest order.

We live in order to practise. If we practise the inner mind, we do not need many things and live very simply. However, besides practising the mind, we also do many other things as practice. Chanting sutras, for example, is also a form of practice. When we chant, we usually do so in the main hall, before the Buddha's altar. So needs begin to arise: we need a Buddha statue, an altar, and the altar must be built solemnly... Once there is a Buddha altar, we see that we cannot leave the statue outdoors, so we must build a house to shelter it, and then a temple with a main hall. If we chant at night, we need light, we need a bulb. In the hot season we need a fan as well. Gradually, seeing that the main hall has no proper floor, we are uneasy and try to tile it with patterned tiles, and so on... In this way, though it is all for the sake of practice, little by little everything becomes complicated.

The story of an ascetic in India gives many people something to think about. He practised very well, and his life was very simple. He lived in a cave, doing nothing but practising and going on alms rounds. From the cave where he lived, the village was quite far. Each time he went for alms he would ask for plenty and keep it in a bag, to cook and eat bit by bit. About once a week or every ten days he would go down to the village to ask again. A life like that was truly simple. But trouble began with a few mice. Because there was stored food, mice came and made a nuisance of themselves. The ascetic found it troublesome and decided he needed a cat. So when he went to the village for alms, he also asked for a cat to bring home. Vegetarian food is simple and the cat would not eat it. Since it was a kitten, he thought the most important thing was to give it milk. Living far from the village, where would he get milk for a cat? He felt he had to keep a cow as well. Once he had a cow, he had to cut back his practice time to graze the cow and milk it for the cat, so that the cat could guard his food.

As time passed, all kinds of troubles arose. When the cow fell ill, or was pregnant or calving, he had to look after her and take her out to graze. By now he had no time to cook. A lay Buddhist, moved by devotion, asked to come and live there to do service, cooking rice for the teacher. That too was a legitimate need, so he agreed. But where would the lay woman live, when there was only a small cave? So he had to build a proper house. Little by little he acquired a few novices to take care of the work inside and outside. And so, beginning with a few mice, all manner of complications and troubles arose.

The story may not be true. But it is told to say that even when something is for the sake of practice, we will need this and that, and one need drags others after it. So in the course of practice we must be careful not to let the needs that serve our practice cost us time or stir up our minds. We say this so that we take care. When needs arise, we must look carefully and see whether they are truly needed. At times we have to endure and restrain our needs in order to keep life simple. In the life of practice there are often shortages and difficulties, but solving them gives rise to many other troubles. If we endure a little, everything passes, and we keep a simple life for practice. Moreover, we live simply in order to save merit. Of course, in previous lives we also did good deeds, so each of us now has merit to accumulate. We must conserve merit so that later we can do great things that benefit the Way.

From the definition of simple living, we need to consider two things: first, our needs, and second, our duties. We must know what we need, and see whether those things go beyond our needs and our duties. If they are just enough, or even a little short, we can still be said to live simply. If we go beyond those needs, we become people with a complicated life. This is something we must be careful about.

A monastic in the period of solitary practice usually does not have many needs. But once the stage of study begins, especially study in the present era, many things are needed: books, pens, desks and chairs, lamps, food to eat, clothes to wear... These needs are provided for by the teachers on the school board, so they are quite simple. But when we go out to work, everything is far more complicated.

In the past, those who practised usually went on foot, and gradually came to use bicycles and motorbikes. When a temple has many disciples, there is more work, and we cannot keep going on foot or by bicycle. When we go to teach the Dharma here and there, we do not have the strength to ride a motorbike, especially when we must travel hundreds of kilometres. So the need for a car appears. In this way a whole series of needs in life increases over time. When all is said, these too are legitimate needs that support us in our work. But complexity grows with them. This is where practitioners find themselves in a difficult position. On one hand, we want to keep a simple and plain life; on the other, a life with complicated needs keeps pulling at us.

The simplest matter is food and clothing. In the past, those who left home did not have as many clothes as now. A couple of old sets, changed back and forth, were enough. But life has become better, cloth is cheap, and many temples have disciples who can sew, so clothing seems easier. Some teachers even carefully have yellow robes made, so that when guests come to the temple they can be received properly and politely. At other times they can wear blue or brown, plain and close to nature.

Sometimes, as merit comes to fruition, we are given many gifts and offerings. At such times, if we are not careful, we become people who accumulate possessions. One difficulty is that under the Bhikkhu precepts, when a donor gives us something, we must act according to their wishes. If we immediately give it to someone else, even if the donor does not know, we still incur a fault. But if we keep everything, how could we use it all? So we should look for a suitable time to pass it on to someone else, someone in greater need. In truth, it is exactly when we have nothing, or are a little short, that life is easier. When merit arrives and we have more property and belongings, we feel troubled and torn between a simple life and what merit brings.

It is the same even with the house we live in. We would very much like it to be simple. The door could go unpainted, left in the raw colour of the wood, rustic. But unpainted, over time it will spoil. We could also leave the bed unpainted and unvarnished for simplicity, but there would be something false in that. We know full well that with a coat of paint the wood would last longer. Knowing this and still leaving it so, trying to look as if we live simply, we feel we are living falsely. And the same with our dwelling: we could thatch our hut with straw and build it of forest timber, for simplicity and coolness. But reckoned up, thatching with straw or leaves is many times more troublesome than roofing with corrugated iron. Iron lasts longer, whereas thatch must be replaced every year, which costs much effort and money. So often, when we want to keep up an appearance of simplicity, it is as if it were a falsehood. This too is a difficulty for us who practise.

Looking at the world outside, we see that a head of state must have a great many supplies and a great deal of human support. Every action in their life, every decision they make, bears on the fate of the whole nation and people. The best of everything, the most modern and advanced technology, is given first to such people. Their cars must be bulletproof, armoured. Their aircraft must be special planes that guarantee the greatest safety. Not to mention the guards around them, who can number in the thousands... Although their needs are enormous and the resources serving them are given the highest priority, these are needs necessary for them to live and work. No one criticises or blames them. But in their personal life, if they are not careful, they can still be criticised by others.

We are proud to have Uncle Ho. His life is a shining example of a simple way of living even though he was a great leader. We are not discussing politics here; just looking at his life is enough to see how great a man he was. It may be that at the time our country was still poor and lacked comforts, so he lived simply. But that was only a very small reason. What matters is that simple living had become a principle for him, a way of life that went into his very flesh and blood. Uncle Ho ate plainly, wore rubber sandals and a peasant's tunic, lived in a house on stilts, and lived in harmony with nature, flowers and leaves. The image of that leader in "brown shirt and cloth bag" entered literature as a model of ethics and of a simple way of life. The poet Tố Hữu once praised him:

A bed of rattan, a mat of rushes, a single blanket and pillow

A small cupboard with just a few worn shirts hanging...

...And the pair of old sandals with worn-down straps

Uncle still walks to and fro in the world of men

Many leaders from other countries visited Uncle Ho, and all were astonished and full of admiration to see a man famous throughout the world, who decided so many destinies, living so very simply. Compared with him, they found that they lived far more lavishly and grandly. So when ten of the world's most incorruptible leaders were once chosen, our Uncle Ho was placed at the top by the nations. That man had a very noble inner life. Every night he still sat in meditation. General Võ Nguyên Giáp held that Uncle Ho was a Zen master with very strong intuition. It is said that when Uncle Ho passed away, only a string of prayer beads and a copy of the Lankavatara Sutra in classical Chinese characters were found in his bag.

A man who had been a senior officer in the North once told how, from childhood, he understood nothing about temples, but in his free time he often went to a temple to wander about. As he grew up he became a fighter pilot, then a senior official, a military commander and an intelligence chief, yet he was very drawn to the Way. When he came South he visited temples and showed great fondness for the atmosphere of practice in the South. But he admitted that many practitioners here still did not match Uncle Ho's way of life. In terms of doctrine, the teachers might be very learned, but in their way of life they did not equal Uncle Ho, did not equal his very simple life. People admired Uncle Ho just as Alexander admired the sage. For he was the supreme leader of a country, entitled to enjoy everything in keeping with his position, yet he declined it. He was a man who conquered the instinct for enjoyment that lies hidden in every human being.

In our Way, the Buddha is the most outstanding example of a simple life. In that era, people held that living an austere, ascetic life was a noble practice. They believed that someone who subdued the life of this body would have a radiant spirit and attain enlightenment, while one who indulged this body would have a darkened spirit. The Buddha believed the same, and so practised asceticism with great severity. He mortified his body, ate very little and held his breath, hoping that when the body was exhausted his spirit would shine forth. But after six years of extreme mortification, seeing that he was about to fall into a coma and that his mind was growing dim, he understood that he had been wrong, and that those who held such a view were wrong. Plainly, they spoke without practising, spoke without experience. The Buddha understood that when the body is exhausted the spirit also weakens. He abandoned the path of asceticism and chose another path to enlightenment and liberation. That was the path of meditative concentration. So before attaining the Way he lived an extremely ascetic life of mortification. After attaining the Way he had no needs at all and lived very simply. Of course, we cannot live as the Buddha did. But those who practise should take the Buddha's life as their yardstick. That is, we see how far we are from the Buddha so as to adjust ourselves and not go too far astray.

After the Buddha came Venerable Mahakashyapa. He vowed to live even more austerely. For him, a robe need only be sewn from "dust-heap cloth", the rags or cloth that had been used to wrap the dead and thrown away. At that time in India the art of weaving was not yet developed, so most farmers, ordinary people and hermits who practised wore cloth dyed with tree bark. Most cloth was a brownish or reddish-brown colour. Richer people wove cotton into cloth and sewed it into clothes still in its natural white, which is why they were called white-robed lay followers. We should not think the Buddha wore a yellow robe then. He wore cloth of the same brownish colour as other people. Indian sewing technique at that time was also inferior to the Chinese. They did not know how to sew tubes to put arms and legs through, but used a large piece of cloth wrapped around the body, passed over the chest to the shoulder and tucked under the arm. Dressed like that, people found it very difficult to walk about.

One thing we should note: in the life of practice, if we practise truly, we will gradually acquire merit. As merit increases, everyday necessities naturally come to us. This is where our strength in the Way is tested. A person with strength in the Way is one who conquers the instinct for enjoyment, who knows how to decline and keeps a simple life. A person with weak strength in the Way will not conquer that instinct; however much merit comes, so much will be enjoyed.

2. A MONASTIC MUST COMPARE THEIR NEEDS WITH SOCIAL CIRCUMSTANCES

In life, when a monastic wants to acquire something, they must compare it with social circumstances and with their own needs. That is, they must see what they need and what the circumstances of society are at that time. This is very important.

For example: we resolve to go to remote, isolated regions to bring the Dharma to the people there. When we build a temple and a main hall, we should consider how to build in a way that suits the surrounding social circumstances. Wealthier lay followers may help us, and we might be able to build an imposing, spacious temple; but looking around, we see only thatched houses, so we also build a simple temple like theirs, roofed only with thatch and leaves. In this way we can blend in with them more easily. We should not be so distant that when people step into the temple they feel it is not their world. If it is a place that does not yet know the Dharma but life is more comfortable, with crowded streets and tall, spacious houses, we may build an imposing temple without any problem. We say this to show that our needs and our purchases must suit the surrounding social circumstances.

On this point, Voltaire, the Frenchman, once criticised Christian clergy (in truth not only Christian ones; in our Buddhism there are a few such cases too). He said: "For the sake of religion, palaces have been built for the clergy." He did not say churches; he called the place of worship a palace. We often see that Christian churches are very large and very tall, their grounds vast. Christian clergy live in such large churches, so he held that thanks to the name of the Christian religion, these clergy were able to live in palaces, more lavish, more luxurious and more comfortable than ordinary people. Yet properly, those who practise should live the same as ordinary people, or harder. This is something we need to note.

We must compare life in the Buddha's time with life today in many respects, in order to know what needs we have.

On study: what do we need to go to school today? Besides books, pens, desks and chairs, we also need transport. In the city everyone must have a vehicle to get to school. At first it was a bicycle, but the distances are long, with heat and dust as well, and cycling for long wears one out, so everyone tries to get a motorbike. Some fifty or sixty years ago, those who practised usually went on foot, which looked very fine; anyone riding a bicycle already seemed strange, for it lost the dignified bearing. Later, according to need, monastics began to ride Hondas, and it no longer looked as solemn as before. But life has changed dizzyingly fast, and we too must gradually adapt to its rhythm. Little by little everything becomes familiar and ordinary. Now many teachers travelling far to give talks must use cars, and we have nothing to be surprised about...

As society grows more civilised, people lose more and more of their plain way of life. We too are drawn along by needs, gradually losing the simple life and beginning a more luxurious one.

On practice: how do our time and the Buddha's time differ? On the subject of Zen practice, we see that our time and the Buddha's differ in many ways. In the old days, those who sat in meditation had no cushions, only a sitting cloth, a piece of cloth spread so as not to get dirty. They usually sat on stone platforms or on bare ground, so they spread a sitting cloth. Now we have invented the meditation cushion to sit comfortably. In truth, according to the technique of sitting meditation, we should not use a cushion. Today we need only use a sitting cloth, as our predecessors did. Besides, when sitting we also need a mosquito net to avoid being bitten and an electric fan because the weather is too hot. Some people even sit in air-conditioned rooms. In the West every house has a heater, an air conditioner and climate control, and those who practise in temples must have everything just as lay people do. That too is normal.

On teaching and spreading the Dharma:

We need technical means: vehicles to travel quickly and punctually; machines, sound and lighting, recorded talks, sutras and books... For the teaching to spread widely and smoothly, we should give it the greatest priority and may use the very best of everything. For this is work that brings benefit to living beings.

On food:

In the Buddha's time, practitioners went on alms rounds and ate whatever they were given. If someone who did not know gave them meat or fish, they had to eat it all out of compassion. Later, as lay followers understood the Way better, many came to the temple to make offerings, and the teachers gradually turned to vegetarian food. In Northern-school Mahayana, practitioners are still vegetarian. This accords with the Buddha's teaching of compassion. The only pity is that the Theravada monks do not eat vegetarian food. They hold that in the Buddha's time one ate whatever was given, so anyone who eats vegetarian food is not following Buddhism. They would rather die than give up eating meat, defending it firmly. In truth, such a view is not appropriate. For when begging, eating whatever one is given without demanding anything is correct. But once lay followers bring food to offer at the temple, they already have an intention in mind, and we should not eat meat. If someone who does not know offers meat, we should advise them to offer vegetarian food. It is precisely this view about food that has given rise to conflicts between the Theravada and the Northern school.

We see that for those who practise, vegetarian food is still better. But vegetarian eating must be sound in nutrition. That is, a meal must have all four nutrient groups: first, starch (glucose); second, protein (proteins, found abundantly in soybeans); third, fat (lipids, found in oil and milk, never lard); fourth, fibre (vegetables and fruit). Eating soybeans for a long time may make us weary of them, so the body will not get enough protein, and we may take protein tablets or have a protein solution infused. That too is reasonable.

Besides these four basic groups, the body also needs trace elements such as vitamins and minerals. So we must eat sensibly and must not mortify the body or practise severe asceticism. Mortifying the body is a mistake and can lead to physical debility. From physical debility we will suffer nervous debility and mental debility. More dangerously, we are no longer clear-minded, and may then suffer disorders of character and go mad. So we must eat sensibly and must not let the body weaken and the nerves grow frail, with serious consequences for our health. In the lesson on craving we will speak about food in more detail.

On clothing: in ancient times in Indian society, people usually wrapped their robes around the body. When all is said, that was simply the clothing of ancient India, not a sacred symbol of the Buddha as many think. We should dress sensibly according to custom, habit and social circumstances, and need not stubbornly imitate the Buddha's time. We may dress so that it is easy to tell a practitioner from a lay person. The split-front style of Vietnamese Buddhism is very nice, somewhat like the peasant tunic, with an extra piece of cloth added on the right to look different. Or, as Vietnamese often wear the áo dài, we have a similar ceremonial robe, which also looks rather nice. At present, under temple rules, novices out on the road usually wear Japanese or Chinese styles, which look rather cumbersome. In general, we must dress neatly and not be slovenly or untidy. For the way we dress also expresses a cultured way of life and a person's character. We who practise may be poor and may live simply, but we must not be sloppy and must not look ugly. Even in a patched robe out on the street, the patch must be straight, handsome and aesthetically done. For dressing badly and untidily shows a poor spiritual value.

Today, the technology of fabric and tailoring is far more advanced than before. We should wear fairly good cloth that is highly durable, but not choose cloth that is too expensive or too luxurious. By the common standard, each teacher is allowed three sets of clothes (three robes and one bowl), but in today's social circumstances this need not be so. Teachers may wear more; they should have at least five sets, as a precaution against rain and wind. Moreover, there is so much cloth now and prices are reasonable, so there is no need to economise to the point of going without. Nowadays it is quite normal for an ordinary person to have twenty or thirty sets of clothes. So, according to social circumstances, we adjust our needs sensibly.

On lodging: in the old days the Buddha lived under trees in the forest, and sometimes in monasteries, thatched huts, mountain caves or by streams. Now, because society has advanced, and moreover the human body does not have enough strength to endure such conditions, we must live in a proper, tidy house. Still, we try not to equip it with too many comforts; whatever is not truly necessary we should not bring into the house just to make it look luxurious. Quite a few of us arrange expensive, luxurious items in our rooms... When we have merit, people give us many things, but we must weigh each one: what is truly needed for our life of practice we will use. If those items make our room too luxurious, we should leave them and not bring them in. This is exactly where the strength of a practitioner in the Way is tested, and we must be careful. For us, a dwelling only needs to be sturdy, inexpensive, pleasant and convenient.

3. A LARGE TEMPLE OR A SMALL ONE

The temple is an important possession, and an important asset, of those who practise. So should we build a large temple or a small one, a beautiful one or not? In truth, large, beautiful temples usually represent Buddhist culture. In the old days we had very large and beautiful temples built by kings. Now we should be grateful for those temples, because those large and beautiful temples have helped to create an enduring culture for Buddhism. Looking at a temple, we know how devoted people of that era were to Buddhism. Only with devotion would the people pool their efforts to build a great temple. In general, Buddhism does need some large temples like these.

If we build a temple in order to practise, we need not pay much attention to form; we build a simple temple, which may be spacious so that many people can come to practise. If too many lay followers come to practise, we can build very large, but there is no need for it to be luxurious. According to the philosophy of yin and yang, what is deeply sunk and hidden is yin, and what is displayed on the outside is yang. Looking at a temple, we will also see these two aspects of yin and yang. Yin is the content, yang is the form. The content of a temple is the strength of practice of the assembly in that temple. That strength of practice is hidden and deep; it is not seen at a glance. What we can see is the beauty of the architecture, the lines and the colours of the temple. In the Book of Changes there is a formula that expresses the wisdom of the ancients: "five yin, one yang". That is, if the inner content (the yin) amounts to five, we display only one on the outside. In this way it will be very lasting. So when building a temple we must balance form and content in the ratio of one to five. That is, five parts of practice strength to one part of construction. In reality there are quite a few temples that are very large and very beautiful, exceedingly so, yet the practice strength of their assembly is out of proportion to the temple. Such temples will not last, because yin and yang are not balanced and harmonious.

This is a point we need to note. If we want to build a beautiful temple, we must see whether the practice strength of the assembly in our temple is five times that beauty. If we pay attention only to form and build a very beautiful temple, but the assembly does not practise well, the temple will fall into desolation. One day, when no true practitioners are left in the temple, outsiders will do improper things there. This happened to many temples in China. There were large, beautiful ancient temples that, by the time Venerable Hsu Yun arrived, were only places where people raised pigs and cattle. He had to set everything right and restore it all.

In short, there are three things for us to take note of: the place where the Buddha is worshipped must be solemn. The place where the assembly lives must be comfortable. The place where the abbot lives must be simple. That is the way for the assembly. That is, the elder must always look after the younger first. The abbot must think of the assembly first. Only then will the assembly later understand that their teacher always sacrificed for his disciples. That example will be illuminated and handed down forever for the Dharma.

4. WHEN WE HAVE MERIT

When we have merit, necessities will come to us in abundance of their own accord, even though we do not wish for them. At such times, we must give and share with others. That is from the standpoint of the individual. If our temple naturally receives many offerings and becomes abundantly supplied, with a surplus, we must help other temples and other assemblies. But now the wealth we have is not our own as an individual but the assembly's, and we must let them know. For once it belongs to the assembly, the abbot may not use it entirely as they wish. If we use it arbitrarily, we will incur a fault.

There are even cases where lay followers make an offering only to the abbot, but then the abbot must understand that the virtue of the assembly is in it. So it may not be used arbitrarily for oneself. If we want to make an offering through to another assembly or another temple, we must also tell the assembly and ask their opinion. If the assembly is glad, we share some with this temple or that one in the spirit of "the Sangha of the ten directions is one". We must keep the life of the assembly just sufficient. If there is surplus, we must offer it to other monks and nuns. If we accumulate too much, not only does the abbot incur a fault but the whole temple does too.

There are two levels of lacking ethics and two levels of ethics: craving what we do not have, and craving to hold on to what we have. In the first case, when we see someone else has something, we are troubled and think how we too might get it. That is wrong craving, and we should give it up. For each person's merit is different to begin with. Our folk saying goes: "Whom Heaven calls, that person answers", or "The banner goes to whoever's hand it reaches." In the second case, when we hold much wealth in our hands, we crave to keep it and do not let go or share some with others. Not craving what we do not have is already difficult; declining and letting go of what we do have is much harder still. This is a difficult point in human beings that we must strive over.

5. NEW PRODUCTS

Living in an age of civilisation and progress, when a whole series of new products appears, we must look at whether these new products are necessary for our life of practice.

With beer and cigarettes, we must refuse absolutely and resolutely. In the Buddha's time these two products did not exist, so he laid down no precept about them. But now we must set the precept ourselves. We refuse them resolutely for two reasons. First, using beer and cigarettes is very wasteful. Lay followers make offerings so that we can practise and study, not so that we can do useless things. If we burn cigarettes, we are burning the lay followers' money, and we commit a very grave fault. Second, beer and cigarettes are harmful to health. They not only ruin our own health but also affect the health of those around us. As practitioners we must understand that this is evil and foolishness. So we should not use them. Today, around the world, people are also fiercely campaigning against smoking. Let us not give lay people cause to complain about a practitioner puffing a cigarette on the road, which is both uncivilised and lacking the seriousness of one who practises. Sometimes beer is said to be a digestive aid if taken in very small amounts. Let us wait and see.

With electronic products such as television, video, radio and cassette: we do not wholly oppose or refuse them. For television programmes today are very rich. Besides music, films and football, television also broadcasts programmes on medicine, health, science... which are very useful to everyone. We should not lose practice time to useless things, but we should not pass over useful information either. In general, we should use television with restraint. Radio is now mainly used to hear the news. For us it is not much needed. A cassette player is very much needed to listen to recordings of sutra talks and of songs in praise of the Buddha. We should not use it for ordinary entertainment. The same with video: it is much needed so that we can watch recordings about the Way and about Dharma talks by true masters. We must not watch the martial-arts films and social dramas that flood the market. In truth, those films also hold much moral teaching and many profound ideas. But to understand those ideas through films, we would have to stay up at night, which both wastes time and harms health. For a practitioner like us, it is best to look for moral teaching in the sutras, in talks, in the lives of the people around us and in our own life.

With the refrigerator and gas stove: to store food, a temple also needs a refrigerator. And a gas stove we also need very much. At present people are encouraged to use gas stoves and to limit the use of firewood and charcoal. For as the population grows ever larger, the rising demand for firewood will lead to deforestation. Not to mention that using a lot of charcoal pollutes the environment.

With cars, lorries and tillers: we also need these vehicles. A car is convenient for travel, especially for long journeys to give talks, being both fast and safe. In production and construction work, tillers and machines are also very necessary. Using these means, we save our health and time. When we are not tired and have our health, our sitting meditation will be better. In general, applying such means, applying science to life, is also good, and there is nothing for us to worry about.

With computers: the computer is very much needed by us. Everyone must learn to use one. It is a modern means that supports us very well in study and in work.

With telephones and telecommunications: this is a modern means of communication, and we need it too. But using the telephone has its own troubles. Practitioners by nature limit contact with the outside. Besides the temple gate, the telephone is also a gate through which we must increase our relations and contacts. Though it has conveniences, the telephone often wastes our time. Sometimes while we are sitting in meditation or chanting, the phone rings, and we lose our concentration and our purity. In sum, we do not oppose using the telephone, including the mobile phone. But because it has many drawbacks, we should use it in moderation.

With electricity and lamps: we also need these very much. Lamps are needed for chanting and study. Electricity in general is needed in daily life. We cannot do without electricity.

With bowls, dishes, chopsticks and new materials: we also need them for daily life. However, when using them we should not abuse them or use them wastefully.

6. THE CONSUMER ECONOMY

According to economics, it is held that consumption drives economic development. That is entirely well founded. For when products are made and consumers buy many of them, the production facility expands its business, draws in labour and contributes to the development of society. For example, a company that specialises in the garment business produces many kinds of cloth and clothes that customers like. Its goods sell quickly, so the company grows very fast. It expands its business, takes on many workers and creates jobs for labourers. The social economy also develops thanks to this.

There was a period when the French economy fell into recession. The French President himself called on the people to consume more and shop more to push the economy to develop. That is economic reasoning, and it is also reasonable. People have measures to stimulate demand, such as shortening working days and adding days off in the week so that people have time to shop. In recent years our state has also encouraged shopping by giving officials, workers and civil servants Saturdays off.

However, there is one thing we need to note. To produce a great deal, we must exploit natural resources on a large scale: extracting oil and metals, exploiting forests... which exhausts the resources early and at the same time pollutes the environment. At present, ever more cars and motorbikes, together with the smoke emitted from factories and enterprises, have seriously polluted the environment around us. Meanwhile deforestation goes on everywhere, and the natural lungs of humanity are no more, making the environment still more polluted. So the idea of heavy consumption to raise economic growth is also an important cause of resource exhaustion and environmental pollution. In the world, some capitalist countries have even suffered crises of overproduction because supply and demand were not rationally matched.

Buddhism today needs to look at this question again in a balanced way. We must choose another way to go; we cannot hold that we should consume a great deal so that the economy develops while causing social problems. We must live a simple life. If someone says that simple living does not stimulate economic development, we also have reason to explain it in detail. We must have firm faith and walk the path the Buddha taught, striving to find a simple and reasonable life.

7. A FEW EXAMPLES

In life there are quite a few examples of a simple life. First we must mention Krishnamurti. He was regarded by the world as a saint of the age, a teacher of the Way of the age, a person with the power of inner awakening. Coming from India, he travelled through many countries, finally settled in America and died there. He went to teach in many places around the world and had very many followers, but he lived an extremely simple life. Although he lived in a very civilised and very comfortable world, he still kept for himself a simple way of life. This is very much worth esteeming. To live like this does not mean he wholly refused and stood outside the progress of science. He still followed the progress of science and technology and human inventions. When he went to teach, he also used technical means such as microphones and sound systems. He sat in the full lotus posture, motionless, for two hours to speak, without moving, with a very calm and peaceful demeanour. People greatly admired him. It is a pity that his books, translated into Vietnamese, are still too obscure, so readers find them very hard to understand. Only those who understand Buddhism and deeply understand the principle of Zen can sense that this was a Zen master who had attained the Way.

Or we have heard the story of the life of the Tibetan saint Milarepa. During his time of practice there were periods when he had not a scrap of cloth to cover his body. His sister had to find a piece of cloth to cover, for the time being, the places that needed covering. He lived very simply. In the winter snow and cold, he could live without clothes. That was thanks to the strength of his practice. Most recently there was the Venerable Hsu Yun, a Buddhist practitioner. He too had an extremely simple life. Only a few plain garments, with no possessions at all, yet he lived wonderfully, beyond what we can imagine. We cannot live like those extraordinary people, but we can take them as examples to admire and revere.

8. CHOOSING A REASONABLE STANDARD OF LIVING

We must choose a reasonable standard of living, because living in surplus wastes merit, breeds attachment and sets no example for those who come after. But if we live too ascetically, we will be limited and will find it hard to do the work of the Way. These two ways of living must be balanced when we decide what kind of life to choose. We should remember that living in abundance means we have moved away from the ethics and ideal of simple living in Buddhism. But if we restrain ourselves too much, live in great hardship with nothing at all, we also cannot do the work of the Way that needs to be done. So, case by case, according to circumstances and according to our wise judgement, we choose for ourselves a reasonable middle way of life.