A Novice’s Lesson – Silence by Bhante Tejadhammo

The young monk approached the elder seeking permission to go to another monastery in order to spend some time in intensive meditation practice. The Elder refused his request. A week or two later he again approached the elder with the same request but this time adding some things with which he hoped to entice the elder to grant permission for the journey. Again the elder replied that he must remain where he was. 

Some weeks later refusing to let go of his plan, he approached the Elder with what he thought was a fool proof scheme. He would go to the other monastery for practice but on the way would visit the elder’s relatives who were ill and take some small gifts to them on his behalf. The elder’s response was direct and simple, “Tell me why you want to do this.” The young monk hesitated and then replied, “In order to deepen and improve my meditation practice.” The old monk looked directly at him and said quietly, “Wonderful! Come back here this evening at nine o’clock.” With that he walked back into his hut. The younger monk thought that he was going to make the arrangements for him to travel although it did cross his mind that nine o’clock at night was a strange time to be setting out on such a journey.

Feeling a little uncertain, he stood at the door of the Elder’s hut just before nine o’clock. Without a word the Thera emerged and, taking the young monk by the hand, led him across the sandy courtyard of the monastery toward the main chapel or shrine hall. Silently he unlocked the outer gates and after they entered locked them again. Likewise he opened the heavy wooden doors and as soon as they stepped into the darkness within, he locked the doors behind them. Standing in the dark the young monk wondered what on earth was going to happen. The Thera quietly moved toward the darkened altar and then lit a single candle which radiated a small pool of light into the dark hall. There was light enough so that they could see each other’s faces and the face of the Buddha image resting above the altar table. The Thera then knelt, bowed three times and sat down in the posture of meditation. The student followed his simple wordless gesture and sat beside him. He then thought that the old man was going to teach him some kind of meditation. “Soon he will start his instruction,” thought the student. 

After many minutes, there was still nothing but silence. The student realized that he could see a little more by the light of the candle flame and while the teacher sat still and silent, he looked around the hall and into its darker recesses. This soon became boring and he began to examine the lines on the teacher’s face, watching the way the golden light played over its ancient landscape. Still, there was only silence and the almost imperceptible sound of the old man’s gentle breathing. The student thought that he may as well do some meditation himself since there was clearly to be no teaching tonight. He fixed his posture and began his meditation, but his mind was like a waterfall or a river in flood sweeping away all before it. Now this thought, now that. This memory swept up and away plans and schemes, thoughts and feelings, images and ideas in a ceaseless cascade that was exhausting. All sense of time was lost very quickly but the pain and discomfort he felt told him that they must have been sitting for an age. He opened his eyes and looked at the old man who sat as silent as stone. The rise and fall of his breathing so light it was almost impossible to detect. He could have been carved of stone or wood except for the strange feeling of aliveness which flowed from his stillness. The Elder opened his eyes, turned toward him and said “Good.” He bowed again and the student followed. Extinguishing the candle they moved toward the door. When he unlocked the doors the clanking sound of the keys seemed to echo loudly throughout the dark shrine. They emerged into the moonlit night and the doors were locked again. The outer gates were opened and then locked behind them and they stepped back into the sandy courtyard now flooded with a soft white light from the full moon high above them.  
 
“Thank goodness that is finished, we must have been there for hours,” thought the student, already anticipating his bed and sleep. Reaching his hut the Elder turned toward his student and said, “Tomorrow evening at the same time.” The student was alarmed and a little disconcerted at this. He didn’t mind doing meditation but when was the teaching going to begin? Back in his own kuti he looked at the clock only to discover that they had been in the shrine room for a little over an hour. His heart sank.  

This scenario was repeated for many many nights to follow. Each evening they crossed the courtyard and entered the Shrine and each evening they sat together in complete silence. Each evening, the time they sat together grew longer and longer. After many nights and many long hours sitting in the gentle darkness with his teacher the young monk finally followed him into the silence and stillness. The river of the mind gathered into still pools and the roar of the waterfall fell away. The light of the single candle became as nothing in the presence of the Elder. One morning they emerged from their practice just before sunrise and prepared to go on alms round into the village together. As they stepped out of the monastery gate, it occurred to the student that the old man had not said his by now customary, “Tomorrow evening at the same time.”  As the sun slowly rose and they walked quietly together toward the edge of the village he knew that he didn’t want to go anywhere, just this walking was enough.

Bhante Tejadhammo