THE THIRD GREAT UNIVERSAL RELIGIOUS AMNESTY
(Fourth Year)
HOLY SEE OF TÂY NINH
BIOGRAPHY
In the first week of the sixth month of the year Ất Sửu (1925), Mr. CAO QUỲNH CƯ visited Mr. CAO HOÀI SANG’s home to spend time with him and Mr. PHẠM CÔNG TẮC, discussing worldly affairs and matters of life. Mr. Phạm Công Tắc lived near Mr. Cao Hoài Sang’s house, next to the Thái Bình market on Hàng Dừa street in Saigon.
As their conversation over tea and poetry extended late into the night, Mr. Cao Quỳnh Cư, perhaps inspired by a divine urge or a stirring within his soul, proposed the idea of table-turning to communicate with spirits from the beyond. Both Mr. Phạm Công Tắc and Mr. Cao Hoài Sang readily agreed.
The three men placed a square, four-legged table in front of the veranda.1 They all placed their hands on the table, and within moments, it began to shake gently and rapidly, as if filled with eager anticipation.
Then, the table started tapping out messages, spelling out words. One tap indicated the letter A, two taps for B, and so on. When the table stopped at a particular letter, they noted it down, gradually forming words and meaningful sentences.
That night, various spirits communicated through the table, writing in English, French, and Chinese. There was even a spirit of a student from Hanoi who wrote in Vietnamese.
This was their first experience with table-turning. Perhaps due to the eagerness of the spirits to communicate and their vying for attention, the table’s movements became erratic, sometimes tapping steadily, sometimes hesitantly. This bewildered the three men, especially Mr. Cao Quỳnh Cư, who suspected mischievous spirits or demons were interfering. He suggested they stop the session, and the others agreed.
The following night, on the 6th day of the 6th month of Ất Sửu (July 26th, 1925), the three men resumed their table-turning session, driven by curiosity to understand this strange phenomenon. They wanted to know why the table moved and wrote in different languages with coherent messages.
This time, they encountered no obstacles and received an eight-verse poem, a self-narration:
Poem
My earthly journey, past fifty years,
While you, my son, just reach ten, it appears.
Cherish my words, with a devoted heart,
Remember my advice, play your life’s part.
By the curtain, I sometimes tease your soul’s flight,1
In this mortal realm, may you find respite.
My dear wife, still frail and weak, I see, To her, convey these words from me.
Signed: Cao Quỳnh Tuân (Heavenly Abode)
Cao Quỳnh Tuân was the father of Mr. Cao Quỳnh Cư, who had passed away over 25 years earlier.
Upon reading the seventh verse, Cao Quỳnh Cư was overwhelmed with emotion. Phạm Công Tắc and Cao Hoài Sang were also deeply moved. Cao Quỳnh Cư exclaimed, “Father!2 Tomorrow, I will prepare an offering and respectfully invite you to partake, as a testament to my filial piety.” The spirit, still communicating through the table, moved it to indicate acceptance of the invitation before departing.
The profound and elegant verses of the poem, resonating with the heartfelt message of a father to his son, left the three men in a state of awe and bewilderment. They marveled at the beauty of the language and the depth of its meaning.
On the 10th day of the 6th month of Ất Sửu (July 30th, 1925), four nights later, the three men gathered again at Cao Hoài Sang’s house for another table-turning session. This time, the table moved gracefully and gently, suggesting the presence of a celestial being descending to Earth. Their intuition proved correct, as it was the spirit of a female entity who communicated through the table, offering a poem:
Poem
To whom can I confide my woes?
Youth wasted, beauty fades, fortune goes.
I dreamt of love in a palace of jade,
But fate cast me down, my dreams betrayed.
Nurturing life, I erred, by mountains and streams,
Now threads of time sever love’s tender beams.
Longing and sorrow, a burden I bear, To whom can I confide my despair?
Signed: Đoàn Ngọc Quế
That same night, we asked Miss Đoàn Ngọc Quế about the illness that led to her passing. She responded with two more poems:
Old Heaven severed the ties of three lives’ thread, Like drifting duckweed, our love now lies dead. For days I frowned, a demon’s scheme I sought, Now I bear this sorrow, to the underworld brought.
While others revel in riches and jade so grand, They forget the one with sorrow in hand. I remind myself, though I know full well, While others bask in fortune’s spell.
The three men composed the following eight-verse poem in response to Đoàn Ngọc Quế’s verses:
Responding in the same rhyme
Pen in hand, I lament your fate’s cruel hand, Heaven swiftly concealed a talent so grand. Deep love’s burden, in this world you bore, A heavy grievance, for a thousand years or more. Spring’s path turned desolate, like a wicked jest, A traveler’s sorrow, yearning for rest. Though the cause remains unclear, the truth concealed, Pen in hand, I lament your fate’s cruel hand. Phạm Công Tắc
Who truly mourns the willow’s weeping plight? A woman of grace, a talent so bright. Your virtues shine, surpassing all compare, Yet you dwell in sorrow, a burden hard to bear. Flowers drift a thousand miles, a mournful sight, A lonely grave, beneath the pale moonlight. Spirit of Quế, in the depths below, Who truly mourns the willow’s weeping woe? Cao Quỳnh Cư
Spring cut short, who pities your despair? Your fleeting life, a talent beyond compare. Your eloquence rivals the noblest of men, Your fall from grace, like gold lost in the glen. We thought your love would bloom in chambers bright, But now your bones lie cold, beneath the fading light. Our hearts entwined, a bond that time can’t sever, Spring cut short, who pities your despair forever? Cao Hoài Sang
Mr. Cư inquired: “Where did you reside when you were alive, Miss Đoàn Ngọc Quế?”
She replied: “… … In Chợ Lớn.”
He asked: “… … Where did you study?”
She replied: “… … I studied at the Ðầm school.”
The next day, he invited Mr. Phạm Công Tắc and Mr. Cao Hoài Sang to his home for a table-turning session (using a chair) to invite Đoàn Ngọc Quế to teach them poetry. The three men eagerly questioned her about the celestial realms, and she graciously shared some insights into divine mysteries. She guided them and instilled in them a greater passion for spiritual knowledge than worldly pursuits.
During the day, the three men worked, eagerly awaiting nightfall to set up the table in front of their shop. They would turn off the lights and inquire about the celestial realms, asking Miss Đoàn to interpret poems and explain various concepts. Sometimes she would descend, and sometimes other divine beings would communicate. (In the following pages, you will find poems and teachings from these divine beings, filled with profound wisdom and mystical knowledge).
Đoàn Ngọc Quế addressed Mr. Cư as Eldest Brother, Mr. Phạm Công Tắc as Second Brother, and Mr. Cao Hoài Sang as Third Brother, considering herself their Fourth Sister.
The poems by Miss Đoàn Ngọc Quế were exceptionally beautiful and unique, truly masterpieces.
I recall that in the last week of the seventh month of Ất Sửu (1925), the three men, filled with enthusiasm for the Way, set up the table, intending to invite Miss Đoàn to teach them poetry. As they placed their hands on the table and lifted it slightly, a male entity descended. When asked his name, he gave a rather unusual response… … He identified himself as A.Ă.Â. and composed the following poem:
Poem
(The Supreme Being arrives, identifying Himself as A.Ă.Â.)
Chili peppers are hot, their fiery taste lingers, Salt remains salty, even after three years. Wandering aimlessly, I stopped by this place, Never settling, never joining the race.
Upon hearing this, Mr. Phạm Công Tắc remarked to Mr. Cư:
– “Brother, who is this speaking in such a strange manner, with no proper name, only A.Ă.Â.?”
Mr. Cư replied:
– “Wait, let’s inquire further. This is no ordinary being.”
Mr. Cư asked:
– “Mr. A.Ă.Â., how old are you?”
A.Ă.Â. tapped on the table, counting endlessly, reaching hundreds without stopping. Mr. Cư, realizing the immense stature of this being, ceased his questioning.
From then on, whenever a divine being descended and offered a poem, they would ask A.Ă.Â. to interpret it.
Towards the end of the seventh month of Ất Sửu (1925), the three men asked Miss Đoàn Ngọc Quế, “Do you have any sisters who are skilled in poetry? Please invite them. We admire your talents and wish to learn from you.”
Miss Đoàn Ngọc Quế replied:
– “My sisters Hớn Liên Bạch, Lục Nương, and Nhứt Nương are all excellent poets.”
Delighted, the three men decided to invite them on the Mid-Autumn Festival, a night of clear skies and cool breezes, when everyone enjoys moon gazing and festivities.
Appendix: The commemorative table used by Hộ Pháp, Thượng Phẩm, and Thượng Sanh for their table-turning sessions.
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