15. New Monk

By Luang Pu Thate Desaraṅsī

July 27, 1984

Newly ordained monks should diligently apply themselves to study and learning, along with practice. The duties in this Buddhist religion are of two types: study and learning on one hand, and practice on the other. But they are spoken of as two separate categories: what is called pariyatti (theoretical study) and patipatti (practice). We gradually practice accordingly. In reality, they are far apart; they are different things. When we complete the theoretical study side, by the time we get to practice, we have forgotten everything from the theory. Therefore, theory and practice must go together—that is, study and learning should occur simultaneously with practice.

The term "new monk" here: even if one has been ordained for nine or ten rains, if one lacks both theory and practice, then one is still considered ignorant. Practice must rely on theory—that is, conventions and designations—so that we can speak correctly. We must hold theory in one hand and practice in the other, holding both ways. If while practicing we encounter an obstacle, we compare it with the theory. If while studying we encounter an obstacle, we compare it with the practice. Theory and practice must correspond with each other, then they become true Dhamma and Vinaya, then they become correct according to the Buddha's teachings.

If we study and learn for only three months, we won't understand much, unless we practice like this. Three months is too short. If we are intent on practice and study theory together—if we are truly determined—we might be able to understand the Dhamma teachings of the Buddha. Not to mention three months; even three years, even twenty years—if we don't practice with determination, it won't happen for us, and we won't obtain that goodness. This Buddhist religion is very complex. What we study is based on the elementary foundations of Buddhism.

We must know: What does Buddhism teach? It teaches about ourselves. It teaches us to understand our own way of being—our daily existence. It teaches us to know and understand our daily life: what happens in a day. If we do things without understanding, we won't feel inspired, we won't feel satisfied, we won't take delight in the causes we are making. So we come to study and practice to understand ourselves on a basic level. We can see easily: upon waking up, we know we have duties.

What are the basic duties? Washing our face and eyes, cleaning ourselves, then going for alms-round. After finishing alms-round, we just sit around—that's it? No, it's not like that. We must understand "alms-round." In worldly language, they call it "benefiting beings." But we must first "benefit" ourselves before we "benefit" others. We must be restrained in our behavior, manners, and maintain our speech and mind. We should reflect on the repulsiveness of food. We should not talk and chat like fishermen—making a racket—that is unacceptable, not proper for a contemplative. Therefore, they say alms-round is for "benefiting beings"—meaning to benefit ourselves: to be peaceful, orderly, restrained in body, speech, and mind, reflecting on the repulsiveness of food as we go along, until we return in the same manner. This is the first step.

Upon returning, we perform our chanting and worship, reflecting on the momentary review, performing our duties. Chanting and worship means recollecting the virtues of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha, recollecting the duties and practices we have done that day. This is the second step.

Next, we take our meal. Going to the hall, we eat, knowing moderation, not indulging in greed for taste or for the mouth and stomach. We eat only to sustain life so that we can practice the Buddha's teachings. This is the third step. Then we wash and wipe our bowl, store it, and place it in our hut. After that, we train and study to understand the Vinaya and the Dhamma teachings of the Buddha. This is study and learning. Then we proceed to calm ourselves, reciting and memorizing texts, studying to understand—don't let your mind go outward. Study internally.

In the evening, our duties include sweeping and cleaning, then having hot water or tea to maintain our routine. However we practice, we should practice consistently. We should eat together harmoniously, in a way that is admirable to others. Not eating haphazardly—whoever is wherever eats there—that's not allowed. That would break unity and show that the monks in our monastery are not in harmony. Doing things together, such as meals, creates unity.

After that, we apply effort in meditation, or walking meditation, or reciting and chanting, until nearly evening chanting time. After chanting, we recollect the virtues of the Buddha, Dhamma, and Sangha as before. Then we sit in meditation. They do this every day. We must know our daily life in this way. Laypeople's daily life has many aspects; we must understand the affairs of monks versus laypeople. Laypeople's affairs are not monks' affairs; we don't need to get involved in laypeople's affairs. This is daily life. Now, another aspect of our daily life, which is deeper: when we live in a practicing community, we aim more for practice than theory. We must know how to do meditation.

What is meditation? Initially, it is calming the mind, training it to become concentrated, to achieve steadiness. If we cannot train concentration, no matter how many rains we have ordained, we are still called a "new monk." If we can train concentration, whether one rains or one month after ordination, we are considered appropriately "old."

Meditation practice means seeing our own self, seeing the root cause of our origination, and seeing how our defilements arise. From what do they arise? We must know this. Once we know defilements, we then abandon those defilements. That is what we must abandon. All the training—from study and learning to practice—is for the purpose of seeing those defilements. We practice abandoning, extracting, letting go. That is the third stage of meditation practice.

Summary:

• First stage: Train to see the root cause of the origination of the body and defilements.
• Second stage: See the defilements themselves—what are defilements, where do they abide?
• Third stage: Train to cleanse and extract them.

Know this: knowing defilements but not knowing how to abandon and extract; or knowing abandonment and extraction but being unable to extract—that yields no wisdom or skill. Practice every day. It's not about practicing something far away; it's right here. Having ordained into Buddhism, studying the Dhamma-Vinaya and the Buddha's teachings—we study to understand this. We train to cleanse and extract precisely this.

As monks, as Sangha, we must see our own defilements, be able to abandon our defilements, and extract our defilements completely from our bodies, from ourselves, in order to become pure monks, complete monks. Not just monks who wear yellow robes. A complete monk must extract his defilements from his heart. That is what is called a complete monk.

Everyone practices for this same purpose. Whether ordained for many years, for a month or two, or even for a single day—this is what we want. If we don't see defilements, don't abandon, extract, or let go, then it's of no benefit. Know this, and you will be able to live with cool peace, live as a complete and fulfilled monk. Having ordained, you can live for a long time, for many years—you can live as long as you like, by constantly purifying yourself like this.

A monk's duty is to constantly purify. This is it. If you want to live long, you must live with this quality. Otherwise, you'll feel stifled, not seeing your defilements, completely confused. Not purifying your defilements brings turmoil and trouble. Enduring and just staying put brings no happiness. Ordaining then would not qualify you as a complete monk.