them how to sweep fallen leaves properly and made sure they knew that the temple’s tools were returned to their proper place after use.
Khun Yay made a point of teaching virtue not only to the congregation, but even to the labourers working at the temple itself. She didn’t look upon the labourers as beneath learning about virtue. She didn’t see them as merely labour hired to work day by day – but she wanted to learn as much about virtue as the opportunity allowed, so that this would be merit for them to take with them to lifetimes to come. It was for this reason that the labourers at the Dhammakāya Temple had an enormous respect for Khun Yay – as illustrated by the following conversation: —
“My dear girl! What are you thinking about when you’re planting that tree?”
“I wish that the tree won’t die so that the vice-abbot won’t get angry with us.” Khun Yay asked someone else the same question and got the reply, “I wish that the tree would grow as quickly as possible so that we don’t have to replant.”
“And how about you?” she asked, turning to a third.
“I wish it won’t die, but grow up fast so that passers-by can rest in its shade.”
A fourth answered her, “I wish that anyone who sits at the foot of the tree I have planted will meditate well enough to see the Buddha inside clearly and without delay.”
“Err! That’s the sort of wish you ought to be making! You might expend just as much energy and get paid just the same wages as the next man for planting a tree, but you get more merit than the next!”
What Khun Yay taught the labourers on that oc-