Hello, and welcome back to our study of the Dhammapada.
Today we continue on with verse 136, which reads as follows.
Which means, when an evil deed
When one commits an evil deed, the fool does not realize it.
But by those evil deeds, the fool, the unwise person,
is burnt by a fire.
So the back story of this one is quite interesting actually.
Perhaps hard to believe for the skeptics.
But it's a ghost story.
And we have many ghost stories in the Buddhist teachings.
But ghost stories in Buddhism are not about how fearsome the ghost is.
They're more about how fearsome it is to be a ghost.
So the story goes that Moggallana, when he was going down from Gijakut, a vulture's peak in Rajgaha, which you can still go see if you visit, he was going with his attendant or his assistant, Lakkhana, and suddenly he smiled.
And Lakkhana asked him, why are you smiling?
And he said, better wait until we get to see the Buddha before I tell you.
So curious, but respectful, Lakkana waited.
And when they had gone for alms round and eaten, I guess, and went to see the Buddha, Lakkana asked Moggallana again, Why are you smiling?
And Moggallana explained to him in front of the Buddha.
He said, While we were walking, I saw a ghost.
in the form of a boa constrictor with flames proceeding from his head, going from its head to its tail and back from its tail to its head, and flames on either side, completely engulfed by flames.
I said, but I didn't say anything because I didn't think you might believe me, thought you might not believe me.
Even Moggallana was wary of skeptics.
But the Buddha reaffirmed it and said, I've seen that ghost before, but I also didn't want to say anything because I wanted to wait until I had a witness as well, otherwise people might be skeptical.
So there was this ghost.
And why was this ghost in the form, why was this ghost being burnt?
And the point here is that it was in pain, wailing and being tortured by these flames actually burning up.
This wasn't a comfortable state.
This wasn't a fearsome ghost.
This was a pitiful state.
So the monks asked the Buddha, what could someone have possibly done to be born in such a state?
And so here is the reply.
In the past, there was a rich man named Sumangala in the time of the Buddha Kasapa.
And he was much like the great lay disciples of the Buddha's time, building monasteries.
In the Buddha's time, we have this man, Anattapindika, who built Jetavana.
the monastery where the Buddha spent most of his career.
And he did it in order to buy it because Jeta wasn't going to sell Jetavana.
He had to cover the space with gold coins.
And that's what Jeta said, figuring that Anantapindika would never do such a thing, would never pay such an exorbitant amount.
But Anantapindika was determined and so he paid the price.
So in this time, Sumangala is said to have done the same sort of thing and spent at least as much money building an actual monastery and then spent an equal amount of money, a third portion of money, giving a festival, giving celebration and ceremonies and feeding the monks and feeding people and celebrating this event of opening the monastery.
So he was a great man, a great Buddhist, a great supporter of the Buddha Kastapa.
And one day when he was on his way to see the Buddha, he noticed in a rest house by the side of the road this man with his feet all spattered with mud and his clothes drawn up over his head.
And he said out loud, oh, this man with feet all spattered with mud must be some kind of night prowler, probably a robber kind of thing, in hiding.
Because it looked like he didn't want to be seen.
And the thief heard this and he conceived of a grudge towards the treasurer.
And you've got to wonder whether there might be something karmic going on here because you would think that such a person would have a thick enough skin not to be.
Well, it's just that it's funny what triggers us because this really triggered him.
And you might wonder whether there was some karma involved where he was just waiting to get back.
as soon as he heard these harsh words of the treasure, which weren't really harshly intended.
It was more speaking out loud to himself, not realizing the thief was going to hear it.
But he conceived a grudge, got very angry, and he said, I know what to do to you.
And he proceeded to do an incredible amount of evil.
He burnt the rich man's fields seven times, cut off the feet of his cattle seven times,
which is in and of itself an inconceivable sort of cruelty, and burnt his house seven times.
So he did nasty, nasty things again and again.
But in spite of this, he was unable to satisfy his grudge towards the treasurer.
He was still angry, which, you know, kind of makes you, in and of itself is a lesson that appeasing your grudge doesn't actually assuage, doesn't actually make it feel better.
It just makes you more and more inclined towards cruelty and anger, makes you a more and more coarse individual.
And he said, what am I going to do?
Well, I got to do something, find something that will really make him upset because he's not even upset.
The treasure or the rich man was still able to live his life and rebuild his house and be patient because, of course, he was a Buddhist and probably a meditator and able to be at peace no matter what happened, which was also a very good example for us.
And then he realized, the thief realized, I know what I can do.
And because he saw that he was going to see the Buddha all the time, he thought, what if I destroy the Buddha's house?
And so he went to the Buddha's hut when the Buddha was away and burnt it to the ground.
And everything, smashed everything up and set it on fire.
And everyone was, when the people saw this, they ran around yelling, oh, the Buddha's kuti is on fire.
And the rich man, when he heard it, he ran immediately, or not ran, but he immediately went to where the Buddha's kuti was.
And he was quiet.
And he looked at the ashes.
When he got there it was too late and it was burnt to the ground and there was just ashes remaining.
And he was quiet for a second.
And then it says he did something that I don't quite understand, but it's something like this.
I don't know, there was some, something that they did was equivalent to clapping their hands.
He clapped his hands basically.
But the way it's described here is a little bit odd.
But he clapped his hands together and smiled in joy.
And you know why?
They asked him, why are you,
You're the one who paid all the money to build this.
Why are you so joyful at seeing it burnt to the ground?"
And he said, you know, I was able to, I had the incredible opportunity to build this once.
Now I've got this incredible rare opportunity to do the same thing all over again, to make the same amount of merit.
And so I'm overjoyed by this opportunity.
This is sort of Pollyanna levels of goodness or good intentions, positivity anyway.
So again, he spent the same amount of money rebuilding the Buddha's Kuti and presented it to the Buddha.
The thief saw this and found out that he had actually made the rich man happier.
He said, you know, I guess there's nothing I can do to him except the one final thing that I can do and that's kill him.
And so he determined that that's what he would do and he decided, he strapped a knife to his belt and
followed the treasurer wherever he went.
But he didn't get an opportunity because the rich man was busy with the ceremonies of giving this new kuti.
And so he was surrounded by monks and lay people.
So for seven days, he didn't get an opportunity.
Until the seventh day, finally, he was watching from the crowd and he was listening and he heard the rich man tell the Buddha, Venerable Sir, seven times, a certain man, there's a certain man out there, I don't know who he is, but he burnt my fields, cut the feed off my cows, and burnt down my house seven times.
He must have probably been the same person who burnt down the Buddha's Kuti.
So in response to this, I would please ask that to dedicate the merit, the first fruit, the first portion of this offering, the first portion of the merit, the goodness of doing this deed, I would like to dedicate it to him.
And this finally, finally touched this wretched man who had done these awful deeds.
And he came up and he prostrated himself before the rich man.
He said, what's the meaning of this?
And he said, I'm the one who did this.
I'm the one who did those things to you.
And he said, please.
He said, well, why did you do that?
I've never seen you before.
He said, no, you saw me.
I was that man that you said I was a thief.
He said, ah, yes, I did say that.
Please forgive me.
We asked forgiveness from the guy.
He said, please forgive me.
The thief said, please forgive me.
He said, yes, I forgive you.
Go your way.
And he said, please let me be your slave.
Let me do something to atone for it.
And he said,
Look, it was because of what I said that you did all this, but honestly, I don't see how we could possibly be friends after all the bad things you've done.
It really just wouldn't be possible.
So I pardon you freely.
Please go your way, friend.
totally unmoved, unangry, but also wise, circumspect.
You normally think of people who do good deeds that they're somehow gullible and naive.
That's the sort of feeling that we get.
We think that anyone who is worldly, who is wise and knowledgeable, would never be so good, because they would know that people would take advantage, etc.
But here's an example, maybe you would argue or be skeptical and think such a person couldn't possibly exist, but here's an example of someone who is incredibly beneficent, incredibly noble and kind and charitable, but at the same time wise and circumspect.
So he's perfectly willing to freely let this guy go on his way and without any grudge for all the terrible things that he did.
But at the same time, he wants to have nothing to do with him.
He realizes that he's clear that it's not that I'm... It's called forgiving but not forgetting, which is, I think, an important Buddhist practice.
It's a good example for us.
It's a nice story, I think.
So that's the story.
And you'd think, well, it's good that he asked forgiveness, but unfortunately, asking forgiveness for the bad things you've done
isn't enough really.
I mean there is no way to prevent the un... I mean there's no way to prevent the power of unwholesome deeds.
The only thing you can do is to mitigate them and offset them by good deeds.
So if he had then dedicated his life to doing good deeds there's a potential that he could have somehow found his way back into a wholesome state of mind.
But it seems that he didn't and
As a result, he was born in hell for many eons and a long time.
And after being born in hell for a long period, because it wasn't yet exhausted, he was born as a ghost, being tortured by fire on Vulture's Peak.
Vulture's Peak apparently has lots of ghosts.
It's the kind of place, if you ever go there, you get a feeling that it is the sort of place that would have lots of tortured spirits.
Or maybe it was because the Buddha lived there that the tortured spirits would come to visit, hoping to make some form of merit and goodness.
And so then the Buddha taught this verse.
So what this has to do with us?
Well, I think it's neat to see the contrast between Moggallana and the ghost, first of all, and then the rich man and the thief.
So the contrast between Moggallana, what does he do?
What's his first response when he
when he sees this ghost.
It's not to feel horrified or sad or even to have some sort of compassionate response towards this ghost.
He smiles.
He smiles because he thinks to himself, isn't it wonderful that I'm free from all of this?
Which seems somewhat like a cruel sort of thing to do, but
It's only because we have this idea, we confuse compassion with, I guess, empathy.
And empathy meaning in the sense of feeling the feelings of others, which is not really a beneficial thing.
If someone is suffering and then you suffer because of that, it doesn't really do anyone any good.
It's not what anyone would want for you.
It doesn't make the other person suffering any less.
It doesn't make you any better equipped to help the person.
I mean, the fact is Moggallana was an incredibly compassionate person, constantly striving for the benefit of himself and others, helping the monks, helping people, even helping animals.
He had an incredible amount of compassion.
But he wasn't moved to tears or even sadness by any of this.
I mean, he had seen so much that he had this curious response that is common apparently to the Arahants.
to smile out of peace, out of a sense of peace and happiness for what they have accomplished.
Because Arahants are truly happy and truly at peace.
And the other contrast is with the thief and the rich man.
I mean, it's just a really good example for us to be beneficent, to be good even in the face of evil.
and to not be moved by suffering.
How quick the thief was to hold a grudge, and how impossible it was to create the same feelings of animosity in the rich man, no matter what happened to him.
He was made to undergo great suffering, great loss anyway, without suffering, without reacting, without getting upset about it.
and then focusing on the thief himself, we have to all see this potential danger for us in holding grudges and in the things that the grudges make us do.
Even if we don't act on them, it will influence our anger, it will influence our speech, it will influence our thoughts, it will prevent us from cultivating meditation, becoming concentrated, it will certainly prevent us from seeing clearly and understanding the truth.
It's very important that we cultivate things like loving-kindness and moreover that we cultivate an understanding of the anger and to see the anger as just an experience, not me, not mine, not something I should cling to.
When someone says something nasty to you, it's not you that they're attacking.
This you doesn't even exist.
It's just words, it's just sounds.
the you that they are attacking is not real.
And to see that it's just an experience that's come and gone.
The only thing that remains is your reaction and your clinging to it.
If you can see that, and you can see the clinging as clinging, you can see the anger as anger, you can see the suffering as suffering, then you can let it go.
and be free.
Don't be consumed by your wicked deeds.
If you are, you'll be like the fool who is burnt as though by a fire.
That's the Dhammapada teaching for today.
Thank you all for tuning in.
Wishing you all the best.