23/11/2021
While residing at the Jētavana Monastery in Sàvatthi, the Buddha uttered these Verses, with reference to Monk Tissa. Tissa, son of the Buddha’s maternal aunt, was at one time staying with the Buddha. He had become a monk only in his old age, but he posed as a senior monk and was very pleased when visiting monks asked his permission to do some service for him. On the other hand, he failed to perform the duties expected of junior monks; besides, he often quarrelled with the younger monks. Should anyone rebuke him on account of his behaviour, he would go complaining to the Buddha, weeping, very much dissatisfied and very upset.
Once, the Teacher asked him, “Tissa, why have you come to me so sad and sorrowful with tears in your eyes, weeping?” The other monks had discussed among themselves, “If he goes alone, he may cause trouble.” So they too went along with him, paid obeisance to the Teacher, and sat down respectfully on one side. Tissa answered the Teacher’s question, “Venerable, these monks are abusing me.” The Teacher asked, “But where were you sitting?” “In the centre of the monastery in the Hall of State, Venerable.” “Did you see these monks when they came?” “Yes, Venerable I saw them.” “Did you rise and go to meet them?” “No, Venerable, I did not.” “Did you offer to take their monastic utensils?” “No, Venerable, I did not offer to take them.” “Tissa, do not act thus. You alone are to be blamed; ask their pardon.” “I will not ask their pardon, Venerable.”
The monks said to the Teacher, “He is an obstinate monk, Venerable.” The Teacher replied, “Monks, this is not the first time he has proved obstinate; he was obstinate also in a previous state of existence.” “We know all about his present obstinacy, Venerable; but what did he do in a previous state of existence?” “Well then, monks, listen,” said the Teacher. So saying, he told the following story.
Once upon a time, when a certain king reigned at Benàres, an ascetic named Dēvala, who had resided for eight months in the Himàlaya country, desiring to reside near the city during the four months of the rains, for salt and vinegar returned from the Himàlayas. Seeing two boys at the gate of the city, he asked them, “Where do monks who come to this city spend the night?” “In the potter’s hall, Venerable.” So Dēvala went to the potter’s hall, stopped at the door, and said, “lf it is agreeable to you, Bhaggava, I would like to spend one night in your hall.” The potter turned over the hall to him, saying, “I have no work going on in the hall at night, and the hall is a large one; spend the night here as you please, Venerable.” No sooner had Dēvala entered the hall and sat down than another ascetic named Nàrada, returning from the Himàlayas, asked the potter for a night’s lodging. The potter thought to himself, “The ascetic who arrived first may or may not be willing to spend the night with him; I will therefore relieve myself of responsibility.”
So he said to the ascetic who had just arrived, “Venerable, if the ascetic who arrived first approves of it, spend the night at your pleasure.” So Nàrada approached Dēvala and said, “Teacher, if it is agreeable to you, I would like to spend one night here.” Dēvala replied, “The hall is a large one; therefore come in and spend the night on one side.” So Nàrada went in and sat down beside the ascetic who had gone in before him. Both exchanged friendly greetings.
When it was bedtime, Nàrada noted carefully the place where Dēvala lay and the position of the door, and then lay down. But when Dēvala lay down, instead of lying down in his proper place, he lay down directly across the doorway. The result was that when Nàrada went out at night, he trod on Dēvala’s matted locks. Thereupon Dēvala cried out, “Who is treading on my locks?” Nàrada replied, “Teacher, it is I.” “False ascetic,” said Dēvala, “You come from the forest and tread on my locks.” “Teacher, I did not know that you were lying here; please pardon me.” Nàrada then went out, leaving Dēvala weeping as if his heart would break. Dēvala thought to himself, “I will not let him tread on me when he comes in also.” So he turned around and lay down, placing his head where his feet had been before. When Nàrada came in, he thought to himself, “The first time I injured the teacher; this time I will go in past his feet.” The result was that, when Nàrada entered, he trod on Dēvala’s neck. Thereupon Dēvala cried out, “Who is that?” Nàrada replied, “It is I, teacher.” “False ascetic,” said Dēvala, “The first time you trod on my locks. This time you tread on my neck. I will curse you.” “Teacher, I am not to blame. I did not know that you were lying in this position. When I came in I thought to myself, ‘The first time I injured the teacher; this time I will go in past his feet.’ Please pardon me.” “False ascetic, I will curse you.” “Do not do so, teacher.” But Dēvala, paying no attention to what Nàrada said, cursed him all the same, saying, “May your head split into seven pieces at sunrise.”
Now Nàrada, perceiving that the curse would fall back on his brother-ascetic, he felt compassion for him, and therefore put forth the power of his meditation and prevented the sunrise. When the sun did not rise, the king had to intervene and ask Dēvala to apologise. Dēvala refused. Then said Nàrada to Dēvala, “Teacher, I will put forth my power of meditation and make the sun to rise. At the moment of sunrise please keep a lump of clay on your head and submerge in water and rise in different places as you go your way.” As soon as the sun’s rays touched the lump of clay on his head, it divided into seven pieces. Thereupon Dēvala ducked in the water, and came up in a different place, and ran away. When the Buddha had given his instruction, he said, “Monks, at that time the king was ânanda, Dēvala was Tissa, and Nàrada was myself, when at that time he was obstinate.”
The Buddha advised them not to keep thoughts of enmity, for this could be only appeased by thoughts of friendliness.
