for discourse, and he simply sat like a tree stump. In cases like
that, where would the Dhamma come from?
Ãcariya Mun used to laugh as he described those situations
to his disciples, but there were some in his audience who actually
trembled. Since they weren’t feverish and the weather wasn’t cold,
we can only assume that they were shuddering from feelings of
trepidation. Ãcariya Mun said that he would not teach very con-
ceited individuals unless absolutely necessary because his discourse
could actually turn into something toxic for the heart of someone
who listened without any feeling of respect. The Dhamma that
Ãcariya Mun possessed was truly of the highest order and of enor-
mous value to those who established their hearts in the princi-
ple of goodwill, not considering themselves superior to Dhamma
in any way. This is a very important point to keep in mind. Every
effect has its cause. When many people sit together listening to a
Dhamma talk, there will be some who feel so uncomfortably hot
they almost melt and there will be others who are so cool they
feel as if they are floating in the air. The difference, the cause, is
right there in the heart. Everything else is inconsequential. There
was simply no way he could help lighten the burden of someone
whose heart refused to accept Dhamma. One might think that
if teaching them doesn’t actually do any good, it also would not
do any harm. But that’s not really the case, for such people will
always persist in doing things which have harmful repercussions
- regardless of what anyone says. So it’s not easy to teach human
beings. Even with a small group of people, invariably there were
just enough noxious characters among them to be a nuisance. But
rather than feel annoyed like most people, Ãcariya Mun would
simply drop the matter and leave them to their fate. When no way
