Recently, the world witnessed an event that created great hope and inspiration among many people. A small group of Buddhist monks undertook a journey of nearly three thousand kilometers on foot with prayers for peace in the world.

It became a beautiful and deeply moving sight. It touched the hearts of many people. The pilgrimage carried a message not only about peace in the world, but also about building peace within ourselves.

The monks who carried this message, especially the Vietnamese monks who led the pilgrimage, completed the entire journey with unwavering determination and clarity of mind. In every discussion they held and in every speech they delivered, there was a very clear and focused idea being expressed.

I especially admired the maturity shown by those monks. This was not a journey motivated by popularity or public attention. It was not a performance carried out with uncertainty or confusion. It was a sincere journey carried out with conviction.

Afterward, the monks visited Sri Lanka with the intention of taking a branch of the Sri Maha Bodhi tree to plant at one of their temples in America. This was deeply meaningful because Sri Lanka has historically protected and preserved the Theravāda Buddhist teachings through centuries of conflict and instability. Buddhist scriptures were copied, protected, hidden during times of war, and preserved for the world.

Sri Lanka is also home to the oldest historically recorded branch of the Sri Maha Bodhi tree. Therefore, welcoming these monks and offering them hospitality brought great honor and dignity to the country.

However, I believe the most important lesson behind their pilgrimage was not fully understood.

Throughout the entire journey, the monks deliberately chose hardship. Walking nearly three thousand kilometers on foot is itself an extremely difficult undertaking. They could easily have traveled in vehicles or arranged a comfortable procession. Instead, they consciously chose the difficult path.

Many of them slept in simple tents they carried themselves. Some voluntarily walked barefoot. This hardship was not imposed upon them by others. It was something they personally chose.

This idea appears throughout many spiritual traditions.

In Buddhist tradition, there is the idea that before attaining Buddhahood, the Bodhisattva had opportunities to attain liberation earlier, but gave them up out of compassion for all living beings. Whether this is understood literally or symbolically is not the important thing. The important thing is the message: one willingly gives up comfort and personal liberation for the sake of helping others.

The suffering later endured by the Bodhisattva therefore becomes meaningful because it is suffering chosen through compassion and loving-kindness toward all beings.

We can see a similar idea in the story of Jesus Christ. Carrying the cross, enduring humiliation and violence, and accepting death are understood as sacrifices made for others. Again, the important thing is not suffering itself, but willingly accepted suffering undertaken for the wellbeing of humanity.

Even in liberation movements led by people such as Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela, we can recognize this same principle. Mandela spent twenty-seven years in prison as part of a struggle for justice and freedom. This suffering was accepted knowingly as part of a larger purpose.

What matters here is that the suffering is chosen.

Now, when these monks came to Sri Lanka, I believe we sometimes failed to understand this deeper meaning. Because of the heat, banana leaves were laid on the roads for the monks. If ordinary people had spontaneously offered such things out of compassion, that would be one matter. But when we actively try to remove the hardship itself, we risk misunderstanding the purpose behind the pilgrimage.

I believe what we should have done was to allow them to continue on the difficult path they themselves had chosen, and reflect deeply upon the meaning behind it.

Why were they willingly enduring hardship?

Because they carried a vision of peace.

I think this is something that Sri Lankan Buddhist society must seriously discuss.

Instead, what often happened was this: the monks came here carrying a profound message, but rather than allowing ourselves to be changed by what we witnessed, we tried to change them instead.

That is something we should honestly reflect upon.

Today, our society increasingly tries to remove every form of discomfort. Sometimes I feel that if the Bodhisattva himself appeared in today’s society attempting severe ascetic practices, people would stop him and arrange every comfort around him instead.

Yet spiritual understanding cannot emerge entirely through comfort alone.

I am not saying that suffering should be glorified unnecessarily. But if people are never allowed to encounter real life, real discomfort, and real struggle, how can they deeply understand suffering itself?

If someone is expected to eliminate suffering, then they must first have the opportunity to experience suffering and understand it directly.

This is not only a question for laypeople. It is also a question for monks and for the entire Buddhist community.

These monks emerged in our lifetime carrying a profound message to the world. The important question is this:

What did we truly learn from them?