Long ago, in a small village nestled at the foot of a mountain, there lived a boy named Gwang-deok. He lost his parents at a very young age and grew up in extreme poverty, surviving by doing odd jobs and begging for food. Though his life was filled with hardship, Gwang-deok possessed a pure heart and an unwavering kindness, always ready to help others even when he himself had nothing.
Each year, during the Buddha’s Birthday Festival, the village came alive with celebration. People believed this sacred day was when prayers reached the heavens most easily. Families prepared magnificent lotus lanterns made from fine paper and costly materials, confident that the larger and more beautiful the lantern, the greater the blessings it would bring. The temple courtyard glowed with wealth and pride as the rich displayed their offerings.
Gwang-deok also wished to light a lantern. He prayed for the peaceful rest of his parents’ souls and for safety and harmony among the villagers, but he had no money at all. Instead of giving up, he gathered discarded scraps of wax and torn pieces of colored paper that others had thrown away. With his own hands, he carefully shaped a small, crooked lotus lantern. It was fragile and imperfect, but it carried all of his sincerity and love.
When Gwang-deok placed his lantern beside the grand lanterns of wealthy families, people laughed at him. They mocked his offering, calling it worthless trash, and said it would be the first to go out when the wind blew. Gwang-deok said nothing. He simply lit the candle, bowed his head, and prayed with complete devotion.
That night, a sudden storm swept through the temple grounds. Powerful winds roared through the courtyard, extinguishing the expensive lanterns one by one. Darkness spread as even the largest and most ornate lights went out. Yet amid the storm, something extraordinary happened. Gwang-deok’s tiny lantern remained lit. No matter how fiercely the wind blew, its flame did not flicker. Instead, it grew brighter, radiating a warm golden light that surpassed all the others.
The head monk witnessed this miracle and spoke softly to those gathered nearby. “This light does not come from wax or paper,” he said. “It comes from a sincere heart and a pure soul. This is the true light of heaven and earth.” The villagers fell silent, humbled by what they had seen.
The radiant light of Gwang-deok’s lantern went beyond the temple walls. It revealed hidden injustices and long ignored suffering among the poor, allowing the king and his officials to uncover a wrongful case that had plagued the region for years. Truth was restored, and justice was finally served.
Deeply moved by the boy’s sincerity, the king welcomed Gwang-deok into the royal court to receive an education. His humble lotus lantern was preserved as a national treasure, a lasting symbol of a powerful truth. True light is born not from wealth or appearance, but from compassion, honesty, and a pure heart capable of changing fate itself.
This tale explains why, during the Lotus Lantern Festival, people do more than pray for good fortune. They light lanterns to remind themselves that sincerity and kindness are the brightest lights of all, capable of illuminating even the darkest paths.