The Return of the Ancient Monk

This is a record of an interview with Ru Che, who sought Chao Du at the Hsiang Kuang Pure Land Buddhist Centre in Australia. He now resides in the Western Land of Dharma Nature. This account reflects upon his life approximately 2,400 years ago. Recorded by the chief writer, Shi Fa, on February 17, 2019.

Ru Che speaks:

"Namo Amituofo. I am Ru Che. My birth was a moment of profound anticipation for my entire family, especially my father. He had been married three times previously without the blessing of children. When my mother finally conceived me, his joy was boundless; he cherished the very thought of my existence.

A Mother’s Pure Intentions

During the months my mother carried me, her appetite diminished significantly. She found little interest in food and even less in idle chatter. My father, concerned, initially feared she was unwell, but in truth, she was perfectly healthy. She simply found that by remaining quiet and consuming very little, she felt a sense of complete ease and clarity of heart. In his desire to ensure I would be born healthy and strong, my father prepared elaborate meat-based tonics for her. Yet, the moment the scent of meat reached her, she would feel an immediate, overwhelming nausea. She could not bring herself to take even a single bite. Consequently, she transitioned to a vegetarian diet throughout her pregnancy. To further purify her heart and mind, she frequently visited the local monastery to listen to the Dharma, hoping that these changes would positively influence the child growing within her.

When the day of my birth arrived, my father was overcome with excitement. Though it was my mother’s first labour, she experienced remarkably little pain, and I was brought into this world with ease. However, when my parents first laid eyes on me, they were struck by a strange sight. I did not resemble my father, nor did I look like my mother. Instead, I appeared to be an old man of eighty or ninety years. My parents were bewildered, unable to comprehend how their own flesh and blood could possibly bear such an aged countenance. They were filled with doubt and confusion, wondering what had caused such a peculiar appearance.

The Mystery of the Newborn Elder

Despite my aged appearance, I was their child, and they cared for me with the utmost devotion. One day, my father’s younger brother—my uncle—came to visit. He had spent decades living in the deep mountains, dedicated entirely to his practice. Upon hearing of my birth, he returned home to offer his congratulations. When my father brought me out of the room to show him, my uncle fell completely silent. His lack of reaction made my parents incredibly nervous. My father thought to himself, 'Does even my own brother find the child so unsightly?' My uncle continued to shake his head as he looked at me, leaving my parents in a state of deep perplexity. Finally, he spoke, his voice filled with awe: 'Inconceivable! This is truly, truly inconceivable!'

My father, trembling with anxiety, asked, 'What do you mean by inconceivable?' My uncle replied, 'The face of this child is identical to that of Elder Qingshan, who passed away just a short time ago! They are the exact same face!' My parents had never heard of Elder Qingshan, but upon hearing this, they looked at me with newfound curiosity. Indeed, my features were far from those of a typical infant. My uncle explained to them, 'Ru Che is undoubtedly the reincarnation of Elder Qingshan. Before he passed, the Elder told his disciples: "When I return to be reborn, I will take on a young body to continue my practice. At that time, you must not let yourselves be outdone by me!" His disciples had laughed, thinking he was merely joking. But seeing this now, it is clear that the Elder has kept his word and returned to this world!'

The Uncle’s Recognition and the Lesson of Silence

From that day on, my parents cared for me with even greater reverence. They understood that I was an ancient monk reborn, not here to play the games of worldly emotion, but to continue my practice with a great vow for the sake of all beings. Even if it meant great hardship, they were determined to raise me well. My uncle, who had always held Elder Qingshan in the highest esteem, was overjoyed. He visited constantly and eventually moved into our home to witness my growth. However, when I reached the age where children typically begin to speak, I remained silent. No matter how my parents or uncle tried to teach me, I would not utter a word. They were deeply troubled, wondering if I was mute.

My uncle, recalling the ways of Elder Qingshan, told my parents: 'No, he is not unable to speak; he is simply waiting! The Elder was the same. His disciples would sit before him for hours, asking dozens of questions, yet he would say nothing. He would simply stare at them with unblinking eyes until they calmed their hearts and realised that most of their questions were unnecessary and their words were better left unsaid. They would then rise to thank him for his teaching, understanding that one need not ask many questions or speak many words; true practice is what matters most. Everyone eventually learned that while the Elder was a man of few words, he possessed unique methods for guiding others, whether teaching disciples or offering guidance to the faithful.' My parents listened intently, finally understanding why I remained silent—I was waiting for the appropriate time to speak.

The Lesson of the Stones

When I was three years old, I played alone in the courtyard. I did not play with toys; instead, I gathered stones from the ground and stacked them. These stones varied in size and shape, making them difficult to balance, yet I worked with great patience. My uncle, watching from behind, observed me closely, eager to see how a great monk begins his practice from childhood and achieves such profound meditative concentration. He began to stack stones himself, trying to mimic my technique. After failing three times to stack even three stones, he grew frustrated. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a voice: 'Where is your meditative concentration?'

Startled, he wondered if I had spoken. He walked over to me and saw that I had successfully stacked nearly ten stones of varying sizes. It was an incredible display of skill. He asked me, 'How did you do this? Why can I not even stack three?' I looked up at him and pointed to his heart. My uncle looked at his own heart and then at mine, and he suddenly understood. He said, 'Though my hands were stacking the stones, my heart was not in the task; it was distracted by other thoughts. No wonder my concentration was lacking and the stones would not hold!' He marvelled that I was indeed an eminent monk reborn, possessing such deep meditative concentration even at such a young age, with the abilities of my past lives still deeply embedded within me.

The Path of Seclusion

To others, I appeared unchanged, but my uncle saw my progress day by day. I was refining my character, my personality, and my meditative concentration through daily life. Even as a high monk reborn, this body and its inherent personality required adjustment. Thus, no matter how my parents disciplined me, I learned to change without explanation, gradually grinding away my personal views and opinions, learning to let go of the 'self' and simply listen. When I was five, my mother asked if I wished to enter the monastery to practice. I shook my head. She did not understand why I would refuse, but my uncle, who followed me everywhere, knew I had already arranged my life. I was not unwilling to enter the monastery; I simply wanted to take more time to observe the world clearly.

At the age of fifteen, I finally entered the monastery. I did not return to the large temple where Elder Qingshan had once practised; instead, I chose a small, secluded temple deep in the mountains to enter into retreat. For five years, I followed the teachings of the master there, practising in isolation within my room. The master never allowed a new practitioner to enter retreat immediately; usually, one had to undergo rigorous training to develop the necessary concentration. He allowed me to begin my retreat the moment I arrived because he had long ago recognised that I was the reincarnation of Elder Qingshan. He held the Elder in high regard and was moved by my determination to return to this world, change my form, and continue my diligent practice without being tainted by the temptations of the red dust or the Five Desires of the body.

For five full years, I remained in that small room, reading scriptures, reciting the Sutras, and performing prostrations, all to reclaim my original nature and gain the capacity to help all beings. Every day, someone would deliver meals through a small window; I would finish my meal and return the tray. I did not bathe, cut my hair, or trim my beard during those five years, allowing my body to change naturally while I focused entirely on my practice. As time passed, the amount of food I consumed decreased, as did my intake of water. Eventually, I required not even a single drop of water for days at a time, as my body naturally regulated itself. My physical form had reached a state of extreme purity, where the organs could cease their functions when unnecessary, no longer bound by the cycle of metabolism. I had attained a state where I understood every pore, every meridian, every bone, and every drop of blood within my own body. Namo Amituofo."

Five years later, Ruche emerged from his seclusion, appearing dishevelled and unkempt before the assembly. No one could recognise him as the same person who had entered that room years ago. Yet, the moment Ruche stepped out, his eyes swept across the crowd, and in a single, piercing glance, every problem, every hidden sorrow, and every spiritual obstacle within each person was clearly foreseen by him. This was the innate instinct he had reclaimed through years of intense purification and practice. When he finally cleansed himself and stood before the community as a true monastic, the entire assembly was struck by an overwhelming sense of awe. They immediately bowed in deep reverence, for they had never witnessed such a pure and dignified presence—a state of spiritual majesty that would typically take fifty years of diligent practice to achieve.

The Return of the Awakened

The moment Ruche opened his mouth to speak, his words were nothing short of profound. Having spent five years penetrating the depths of various sutras and treatises, he possessed a crystal-clear understanding of the human condition. For those with sharp roots, a single sentence from Ruche was enough to help them break through delusion and attain enlightenment. For those with duller roots, he offered teachings tailored specifically to their capacity. As long as they were willing to follow the teachings, every single person could, in the shortest possible time, break through delusion and attain enlightenment.

A Master's Gaze

Several years later, Ruche returned to the grand temple where Elder Qingshan had once practiced. Upon seeing him, all the monastics immediately knelt to the ground, respectfully inviting him to take his place as their Master. Before Ruche stood over a thousand monastics. He scanned them from the east side of the hall to the west, and not a single problem among the entire assembly escaped his Buddha eyes. He sighed, lamenting that these disciples, now aged and weary, had made so little progress in their practice despite the passing of time. From that day forward, Ruche began a massive overhaul of the entire community. His presence was so commanding that a single glance was enough to capture the hearts and minds of those present. Without needing to utter a word, he could make people see exactly where they had gone wrong. He sought to reorganize the monastic community with the utmost speed, ensuring that every monastic possessed the true ability to save beings, rather than merely filling a seat in the community and living a life of idle comfort.

Ruche maximized his abilities during this return to the human world, ensuring that the Dharma lineage could be passed on and that more suffering beings could be saved. After this, Ruche truly returned to the Western Land, where he spent thousands of years in diligent practice. It was only upon hearing of Practitioner Su’s leg injury that he descended once more into the human world, entering into her leg to offer his assistance.

The Sacred Mission of Practitioner Su

Ruche is profoundly grateful to Practitioner Su for providing him with this opportunity to return to the human world to save the world. To assist Practitioner Su is to assist immeasurable and boundless beings. The importance of Practitioner Su is known to all the great sages of the Western Land and all the Buddhas and Bodhisattvas. All those in the Western Land are actively guarding Practitioner Su’s human body, ensuring that she does not suffer excessive harm while she works to save beings.

Practitioner Su has taken on the suffering of beings for the sake of saving them. For thirty years, her human body has endured endless suffering, yet she has never uttered a single word of complaint. She continues to press forward, her heart focused solely on helping beings leave suffering behind. Such a great heart is something that can no longer be seen in this world.

This recent leg injury was the most severe damage she has ever endured. Beings, driven by their attachments, caused harm to Practitioner Su’s human body, yet she remains without resentment or regret. She continues to use her Dharma Body to perform Chao Du across the void, even breaking through boundaries to save beings throughout the entire universe. Such actions are a model for all people in the world to learn from; the heart to save beings requires exactly this kind of steadfast courage and fearlessness. Through this act of taking on the suffering of beings, Practitioner Su has also cleared her own spiritual obstacles accumulated over eons. Her entire being has been renewed, transformed into a crystal-clear Buddha body, allowing her to continue her great work of saving the world. We are filled with gratitude for the compassion of Practitioner Su. Namo Amituofo.

Recorded by the chief writer, disciple Shi Fajing.