Someone asked: I've heard the seven factors of enlightenment (bojjhaṅga) can heal illness — referencing the story of the Buddha teaching the Bojjhaṅga-paritta to the venerable Mahā Kassapa during his illness, after which he recovered, and later teaching it to the venerable Moggallāna; and later still, when the Buddha himself fell ill, the custom arose of chanting the bojjhaṅga for the sick. Could Pra Ajarn expand on this? They also mentioned that when their youngest child fell gravely ill, someone suggested having the child ordained as a remedy, but that wasn't possible, so instead the child was brought to be adopted as Khun Yai Ajarn's spiritual child — after which the condition steadily improved. How is the mind involved in recovery from illness?

The seven factors of enlightenment consist of seven components, all factors of concentration leading to happiness, culminating in equanimity — the ability to hold the mind level and see things as they truly are. This is an essential process for drawing in pure energy, an automatic system belonging to the wholesome that leads to calm and the capacity to set the mind free of suffering.

It begins with mindfulness (sati) — awareness first arises. This is followed by investigation of states (dhamma-vicaya): considering, given the present situation, which dhamma is appropriate to bring up for reflection. If we're suffering greatly right now, we take up that very issue for reflection, so as to reach the cause of that suffering. Once the appropriate dhamma has been identified, effort (vīriya) takes over — reflecting on and settling that dhamma, contemplating it so as to draw in the related teaching.

Rapture (pīti) then arises, because the merit drawn in works to purify impurities, lightening them to some degree; the mind senses this cleanliness, this degree of purity, and a sense of fullness arises as a result of that purifying merit. With this, tranquility of body and mind (passaddhi) follows — since restlessness originally arose from impurity agitating body and mind; once fullness arises, tranquility follows. After that, the factor of concentration (samādhi) becomes firmly established, the mind steady and unwavering, leading finally to equanimity (upekkhā). Equanimity balances the mind evenly, seeing things as they truly are, and separates body from mind: the body may be sick, in pain, suffering — but the mind does not suffer along with it.

As for how a mere chant can have this effect: in ancient times, those who had practiced dhamma well, upon hearing the recitation describe this process and this mechanism, could immediately reflect along each factor of the bojjhaṅga in turn, causing this machinery to switch on and run at once — which is why recovery in the Buddha's time could be immediate. In the present age, chanting instead "switches on" this automatic wholesome system, but the process doesn't resolve instantly, because we haven't practiced as thoroughly as people did in the Buddha's era. Once switched on, the wholesome system runs through the process step by step, and the condition gradually improves — not an instant cure as in the Buddha's time.

This is why chanting it often matters — it gives the wholesome side time to keep working continuously, and this requires an environment that favors the wholesome, allowing it to work without interruption. A patient with no one to chant for them can chant for themselves just as well, since it is the same matter of switching on the machinery — taking in that information for reflection. In ancient times, when someone gravely ill could no longer bring any dhamma to mind, the mind grew despondent; when someone came to recite for them, they felt better, and the wholesome then drew that energy in to drive the correction of impurities. The one who actually puts the chant to use is the wholesome within us.