Once in a while, the Buddhist community is rocked by scandalous news of errant monks.

There are stories of temple funds being misused for personal entertainment and luxury. Some monks siphon donations to benefit their own families. Others break moral precepts—caught quite literally with their pants down. Some incite hatred, promote superstition, or exploit their authority to manipulate followers. The list, sadly, goes on.

But perhaps the most scandalous of all is when monks or nuns are caught engaging in sexual relationships—whether with lay followers or amongst themselves.

Why is this so serious? Because celibacy is not just a tradition; it is a core commitment in monastic life. It signals that the individual is serious about their spiritual journey, and about renunciation. The Buddha established celibacy as a prerequisite for those who wear the robe and walk the path of liberation. When that vow is broken, we naturally feel betrayed. And yes—for many of us, we also feel deeply embarrassed.

Especially when our free-thinker friends or Christian colleagues grin as they thrust a news article or video into our face, implying that we are naïve or foolish for donating to temples or respecting monks. It’s humiliating. It’s stressful. It hurts.

But here’s a question worth asking:
Are these negative emotions justified?

We must pause and reflect:

• Did we condone those wrong actions?
• Did we encourage immoral behavior?
• Were we personally responsible for the misconduct?

If the answer is no, then why do we carry the shame when others break the precepts?

The answer lies in a flawed form of identification.

Not Every Robe Represents the Triple Gem

We often assume that anyone wearing the saffron robe represents Buddhism. That’s a mistake. The Buddha himself warned that not all who wear the robe are noble. It is the conduct, not the clothing, that defines a true monk or nun.

When someone breaks their vows, they have, in essence, left the monastic community—robe or not. They may still parade in holy attire, but they are frauds living off public trust, not practitioners of the Dhamma. We must stop confusing symbols with substance.

Don’t Let the Egos of Others Become Yours

Another hidden trap is ego. When we identify ourselves as “Buddhists,” we often take the behavior of monks and nuns personally. Their flaws feel like our own. But this is an attachment to identity, and like all forms of ego, it leads to suffering.

Let go of the need to defend everything done in the name of Buddhism. Let the Dhamma speak for itself.

Your Donation Was to the Ideal, Not the Individual

When we give to a monastery, we are offering support to the ideal—the hope that serious men and women are working to embody the Buddha’s path. We are donating to truth, discipline, renunciation, and compassion. If a charlatan happens to pocket that offering, the fault lies with them—not us.

Even if you gave money directly to a now-disgraced monk, that doesn’t make you foolish. It makes you human. Trust is always a risk. Being scammed is painful, but don’t let the betrayal poison your faith. You were giving from sincerity. That still counts.

Let the Scandal Be Your Teacher

Scandals hurt. They shake our confidence. But they also provide a valuable moment to recommit to the heart of the Dhamma. Remember the Buddha’s words:

“Be a lamp unto yourselves. Take refuge in the Dhamma.”

Don’t let your faith rest on robes, rituals, or institutions. Rest it on wisdom, compassion, and clarity.

In the end, the Dhamma is not stained by those who fail it. Their downfall is not a sign of Buddhism’s weakness—it is a reminder that the path is difficult, and not all who walk it are sincere.

We can mourn the disgrace, but we must not let it define us.

Let it deepen our resolve instead.

May all be well and happy.