A Karmic Parable

Once upon a long, long time ago, there lived a man who had a big heart, one brimming with humility and the overwhelming wish to help others. Alas, while his heart was expansive, his purse was very small. Undeterred by his meager resources, the man happily helped others any way he could. After a downpour one day, he repaired an elderly neighbor’s leaking roof. Coming across a widow’s missing goat, he patiently led the animal back to its grateful owner. When some children wanted to play in an empty lot in the town, he stepped up to help clear away the wild-growing brush. 

As word spread of his kind heart and willing hands, his reputation for generosity and fairness became more widely known. Appreciating his civil spirit, the townspeople asked him to be their mayor. Always wishing to serve others, the man agreed. Upon finding that he could now help many more people, he felt grateful for his new position and humbled in the face of his growing influence.  

In time, his name became known far and wide to such a degree that the people he helped asked him to be the governor. And eventually the country’s ruler. Now, controlling the ample wealth in the nation’s coffers, he happily used it to help even more people. Everywhere he went, he saw the changes brought about from his carefully crafted policies. Citizens became better educated and thus were able to better provide for their families. Strangers to the country were welcomed. Crime and violence reduced naturally. Those who were unable to care for themselves due to illness or age were cared for.  

Thanks to the man’s selflessness and dedication to improving everyone’s welfare, the country thrived to such a degree that uncountable people lived in prosperity. Their hearts were filled with gratitude and enduring loyalty to this compassionate man who had so positively reshaped their very existence. 

Uncountable lifetimes later, as these things are want to happen, the man and the citizens found themselves reborn in the same country. But this time, the man was very different. His power was immense, and the financial resources he oversaw seemed unlimited. His heart? Tragically, his heart was so small that some questioned its very existence. Arrogance replaced his previous humility, selfishness his earlier generosity. All he cared about was himself. And so, unlike in the past, the citizens were no longer educated or cared for, strangers no longer welcomed. Poverty and disease increased, as did violence, crime, and intolerance. 

What of those citizens? How did they react in the face of all the suffering in their country? Due to all those seeds of gratitude and the enduring loyalty planted in the distant past, their fealty never wavered. And so, they championed and even idolized the man.  

How did this tale end? Again, as karmic tales so often do, dear reader, it is still unfolding . . .

The Secure Way to Cultivate

In a certain town where the Buddha was teaching, his followers were always involved in severe arguments. The Buddha would then tell them about the story of King Longevity's tolerance in order that they might reconcile. The Buddha said, “It is impossible to end hatred with hatred. Only compassion and patience can extinguish the flames of resentment.”

Although many of them were moved by the Buddha's words and tried to do as he taught, there was still a minority who favored arguments and would never give in. At this time, the Buddha remembered the humble and patient Annurudha, who was then cultivating in the woods. So the Buddha went on his own to see him.

Besides Annurudha, Kimbila and Nandiya were also cultivating in the woods. The three of them were first cousins of the same generation, and they remained very close even after their renunciation. They had an agreement to follow the Buddha in all his instructions to cultivate.

Of the three of them, Annurudha had already attained the Arhat state, while Kimbila and Nandiya had also attained enlightenment in the summer retreat the previous year. Three holy ones coming together to cultivate obviously meant harmony and peace.

They had mutually agreed to abstain from speech except once every five days to report on their individual findings on their cultivation and how to improve on the content of their living. On normal days, the one who returned earliest from begging would have to prepare the beds, carry water for daily use and have the accessories laid ready for feet washing. Food that had been left over would have to be saved in a cool place or in uncontaminated water for the others who might not have enough to eat. When everything was prepared, he could then wash his own hands and feet, and tidy up the mat before practicing on chanting, sutra recitation, or meditation.

The next one to return could eat the leftover food, and if there should still be food left, he would have to go through the same procedure before doing his own practice. This would go on until the evening, when the one first to come out of meditation would check to see if there was still enough water for use. If not, he would have to go and get some more. If it was too heavy to carry, he could motion for assistance. Still remaining silent, they would carry the water together before returning to their rooms. This was the tranquil way of life they conducted in the serene woodlands.

The Buddha, who disliked places of bustling uproar, came to visit Annurudha in the woods. A sentry guarding the woodlands did not recognize the Buddha, and mistook him for a stranger. This was not surprising as the Buddha was always traveling to teach, and was usually accompanied by his followers. Coming forward to stop the Buddha, he said, “Please do not go in, as there are three holy ones practicing inside.” Smiling, the Buddha said calmly, “Please tell them they have a visitor. I am sure they would like to see me.”

The sentry did as proposed, and the three were very pleased to see the Buddha. They hurried out to welcome him, and quickly made his bed and poured water for him to wash his feet. After settling in, he asked, “Annurudha! Are you practicing securely here? Do you have lack anything?”

Annurudha replied, “Buddha! In my cultivation, I have been lucky to have good conditions and good fortune. Pure practice is with me, and I have abandoned subjective opinions in order to learn the conduct of the saints and virtuous. My cultivation is therefore very secure, and my mind is enriched and contented. I need nothing more.”

The Buddha then turned to Kimbila and Nandiya who assured him of the same. Very happy to hear that, the Buddha said, “You have practiced harmoniously without conflicts. You live so happily, devoting yourselves only to one mind, one merit, one teacher, one way. There is nothing better in life than this perfect harmony.”

Having expressed his praise, the Buddha further recounted his own past experience of cultivation to encourage them. Having left the crowd full of conflicts and met with the Sangha of concord, the Buddha felt delighted to have come to the woods. This unexpected visit from his Master also made Annurudha extremely blissful and thankful.

Note: Those with Buddhist Dharma within them are the wealthiest. The Dharma is a treasure which holds unlimited resources. But it is only when putting Dharma into practice that both body and mind can find peace and harmony.

Only One?

Recently I was told about a woman who chanted "Amituofo" for hours every day. All her friends were impressed with her dedication. Her family was very proud of her, and she felt that she was doing very well in her practice.

Then one day, she suddenly became ill and died. When she opened her eyes in another realm, she expected to see the Western Pure Land. But to her great consternation, she looked around and realized she was in a very different place! Panicking, she began to try to figure out what was happening. Then she saw the king of the underworld approaching her.

Not understanding any of this, she asked "Where am I? What is happening?" The king of the underworld confirmed her worst fears. She was indeed in the hell realms. Not knowing how this could have happened to her, she told him about the thousands of hours she had chanted "Amituofo." She asked why wasn't she in the Pure Land.

To be just, the king told an attendant to bring out a large sieve as well as the bag containing all the chants the woman had done. Feeling more confident the woman felt that now everything would be straightened out. As the attendant began to pour the bag of chants into the sieve, the only sounds were of the chants pouring into the sieve. And then came the sound of them falling through the sieve's holes.

The woman leaned over and peered into the sieve. She saw one lone chant that was large enough to have not fallen through the holes. She looked up at the king questioningly. He returned her gaze and asked, "Do you remember the day you were under a tree when a terrible thunderstorm suddenly blew over? You were terrified and curled up next to the tree trunk. Suddenly a large flash of lightning lit the sky all around you and at the same instant there was a tremendous crash of thunder right above you. You called out in fear "Amituofo!"

"That is the one lone chant that was large enough to have not fallen through the holes in the sieve. That was your one chant of true concentration and sincerity."

Heavy Load, No Load

Two monks were strolling by a stream on their way home to the monastery. They were startled by the sound of a young woman in a bridal gown, sitting by the stream, crying softly. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gazed across the water. She needed to cross to get to her wedding, but she was fearful that doing so might ruin her beautiful handmade gown.

In this particular sect, monks were prohibited from touching women. But one monk was filled with compassion for the bride. Ignoring the sanction, he hoisted the woman on his shoulders and carried her across the stream--assisting her journey and saving her gown. She smiled and bowed with gratitude as he noisily splashed his way back across the stream to rejoin his companion.

The second monk was livid. "How could you do that?" he scolded. "You know we are forbidden even to touch a woman, much less pick one up and carry her around!"

The offending monk listened in silence to a stern lecture that lasted all the way back to the monastery. His mind wandered as he felt the warm sunshine and listened to the singing birds. After returning to the monastery, he fell asleep for a few hours. He was jostled and awakened in the middle of the night by his fellow monk. "How could you carry that woman?" his agitated friend cried out. "Someone else could have helped her across the stream. You were a bad monk!"

"What woman?" the tired monk inquired groggily.

"Don't you even remember? That woman you carried across the stream," his colleague snapped.

"Oh, her," laughed the sleepy monk. "I only carried her across the stream. You carried her all the way back to the monastery."

We Need to Show Before We Can Receive

"One day Siddhartha [the future Sakyamuni Buddha] left Rajagrha to go to the foot of the mountain where many hermits and sages dwelt. On the way, he saw dust falling down from the mountain amidst the pounding sound of animal hoofs. Going closer, he found a large flock of sheep and goats moving along like a bank of clouds. They were being helplessly driven toward the city.

At the rear of the flock, a little lamb was straggling, limping along painfully, its leg wounded and bleeding. Siddhartha noticed the little lamb and its mother walking in front of it constantly looking back in deep concern for her offspring. His heart was filled with pity. So Siddhartha took the little lamb with the wounded leg up into his arms, gently caressing it while walking along behind the flock.

When he saw the shepherds, he asked: 'Where are you driving this herd to? They should normally be driven back in the evening! Why do you drive them back at noontime?' The shepherds replied: 'The King is holding a big sacrifice today, and we have been ordered to bring one hundred sheep and goats each to the city at noontime.' Siddhartha said: 'I'll go with you.' He carried the little lamb in his arms all the way to the city. Walking behind the flock of sheep, Siddhartha reached the city; then he went toward the palace, where the sacrifice was being held.

The King and a group of priests of the fire-worshipping cult were chanting hymns, while a big fire was burning on the altar. They were about to kill the flock of sheep as a sacrifice, but when the leader of the fire-worshippers raised his sword to sever the head of the first sheep, Siddhartha quickly moved up and stopped him...In a grave and solemn manner, Siddhartha...said to King Bimbisara: 'Your Majesty, Don't let these worshippers destroy the lives of these poor animals.'

Then he spoke to people who were standing as witnesses to this event: 'All living creatures cling to life. Why should people exert brutal force upon these friendly animals? The suffering of birth, old age, sickness and death will naturally take away their beloved lives.' Siddhartha continued: 'If human beings expect mercy, they ought to show mercy, for, according to the law of Cause and Effect, those who kill will, in turn, be killed. If we expect happiness in the future, we must do no harm to any kind of creature whatsoever. For whoever sows the seeds of sorrow and agony will undoubtedly reap the same fruits.'

The manner in which Siddhartha spoke was peaceful and dignified and full of compassion yet, at the same, forceful and determined. He completely changed the intention and belief of the King and the fire-worshippers.

So King Bimbisara asked Siddhartha to stay in his country to teach the people to be merciful...Siddhartha was deeply grateful, but since he had not yet attained his goal of Complete Enlightenment, he gracefully declined the invitation and departed."

~ A Pictorial Biography of Sakyamuni Buddha