SHARP TONGUES

By

Michael Edwin Q.

If you travel north on the Yangtze River, many kilometers before you reach the Taklamakan Desert, on the top edge of the Tibetan Plateau, you will come upon a monastery of Shiloh Priests. The monastery is on forty acres, and is surrounded by a high wall. Only the towering point of the temple can be seen by the outside world. The locals call the Shiloh Priests of this monastery Shadow Monks because they are seldom seen and all have taken a vow of silence.

Many years ago, while the monks were eating supper, Master Wu, the oldest living Shiloh Monk, stood up and broke his vow of silence.

“Wisdom, compassion, and courage are the three universally recognized moral qualities of men,” the old monk announced. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, his body went limp, and he fell to the floor. He was dead.

To commemorate such a great moment, it was decreed that each year on the anniversary of Master Wu’s declaration and death, one monk will stand and break his vow of silence, during dinner, and make a quick declaration. This went well for years.

One year, Master Chen stood up on the anniversary and declared, “Wherever you go, go with all your heart.” The next year, Master Wang stood up during dinner on the anniversary and announced, “To know what you know and what you do not know, that is true wisdom.” The next year, Master Lin spoke up, “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance.” And no monk could forget Master Yang when he proclaimed, “It is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. This is how the whole scheme of things works. All things are difficult to achieve; and bad thing are easy to get.”

For years, this tradition went on, and all were please. Till one year, the unexpected happened. It was the anniversary and Master Dong stood up during dinner to make his statement, as is was his turn that year to do so.

“The rice is overcooked,” he said, directing his glance at Mater Fu who was the cook at the monastery.

An entire year later, it was Master Fu’s turn to speak.

“I do my best,” Master Fu proclaimed. “If Master Dong doesn’t’ like it, he can cook his own dinner.”

Twelve months later, on the anniversary, it was Master Qin’s turn to speak.

“I’m leaving the Shiloh order and the monastery. I can’t take all this bickering.”

He picked up what little belongs he had, turned and left, and was never heard of again.

THE END

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