Being Unburdensome
§ 8.1 “There is the case where a monk, reflecting appropriately, uses the robe simply to counteract cold, to counteract heat, to counteract the touch of flies, mosquitoes, wind, sun, & reptiles; simply for the purpose of covering the parts of the body that cause shame.
“Reflecting appropriately, he uses alms food, not playfully, nor for intoxication, nor for putting on bulk, nor for beautification; but simply for the survival & continuance of this body, for ending its afflictions, for the support of the holy life, thinking, ‘Thus will I destroy old feelings [of hunger] and not create new feelings [from overeating]. I will maintain myself, be blameless, & live in comfort.’
“Reflecting appropriately, he uses lodging simply to counteract cold, to counteract heat, to counteract the touch of flies, mosquitoes, wind, sun, & reptiles; simply for protection from the inclemencies of weather and for the enjoyment of seclusion.
“Reflecting appropriately, he uses medicinal requisites that are used for curing the sick simply to counteract any pains of illness that have arisen and for maximum freedom from disease.” — MN 2
§ 8.2 At that time the monks of Āḷavī were having huts built from their own begging—having no sponsors, destined for themselves, not to any standard measurement—that did not come to completion. They were continually begging, continually hinting: ‘Give a man, give labor, give an ox, give a wagon, give a machete, give an ax, give an adz, give a spade, give a chisel, give rushes, give reeds, give grass, give clay.’ People, harassed with the begging, harassed with the hinting, on seeing monks would feel apprehensive, alarmed, would run away; would take another route, face another direction, close the door. Even on seeing cows, they would run away, imagining them to be monks.
Then Ven. MahāKassapa, having come out of his Rains retreat at Rājagaha, set out for Āḷavī. After wandering by stages he arrived at Āḷavī, where he stayed at the Chief Shrine. Then in the early morning, having put on his robes and carrying his bowl & outer robe, he went into Āḷavī for alms. The people, on seeing Ven. MahāKassapa, were apprehensive, alarmed, ran away, took another route, faced another direction, closed the door. Then Ven. MahāKassapa, having gone for alms, after his meal, returning from his alms round, addressed the monks: “Before, friends, Āḷavī was a good place for alms. Alms food was easy to come by, it was easy to maintain oneself by gleanings & patronage. But now Āḷavī is a bad place for alms. Alms food is hard to come by, it isn’t easy to maintain oneself by gleanings or patronage. What is the cause, what is the reason why Āḷavī is now a bad place for alms?…”
Then the monks told Ven. MahāKassapa about that matter.
Then the Blessed One, having stayed at Rājagaha as long as he like, left for Āḷavī. After wandering by stages he arrived at Āḷavī, where he stayed at the Chief Shrine. Then Ven. MahāKassapa went to the Blessed One and, on arrival, having bowed down to him, sat to one side. As he was sitting there he told the Blessed One about that matter. Then the Blessed One, because of that issue, because of that affair, had the community of monks convened and asked the Āḷavī monks, “They say that you are having huts built from your own begging—having no sponsors, destined for yourselves, not to any standard measurement—that do not come to completion; that you are continually begging, continually hinting: ‘Give a man, give labor, give an ox, give a wagon, give a machete, give an ax, give an adz, give a spade, give a chisel, give rushes, give reeds, give grass, give clay’; that people, harassed with the begging, harassed with the hinting, on seeing monks feel apprehensive, alarmed, run away; take another route, face another direction, close the door; that even on seeing cows, they run away, imagining them to be monks: is this true?”
“Yes, lord. It is true.”
So the Blessed One rebuked them: “Misguided men, it’s unseemly, unbecoming, unsuitable, and unworthy of a contemplative; improper and not to be done…. Haven’t I taught the Dhamma in many ways for the sake of dispassion and not for passion; for unfettering and not for fettering; for letting go and not for clinging? Yet here, while I have taught the Dhamma for dispassion, you set your heart on passion; while I have taught the Dhamma for unfettering, you set your heart on being fettered; while I have taught the Dhamma for letting go, you set your heart on clinging. Haven’t I taught the Dhamma in various ways for the fading of passion, the sobering of pride, the subduing of thirst, the destruction of attachment, the severing of the round, the depletion of craving, dispassion, cessation, unbinding? Haven’t I advocated abandoning sensual pleasures, understanding sensual perceptions, subduing sensual thirst, destroying sensual preoccupations, calming sensual fevers?… Misguided men, this neither inspires faith in the faithless nor increases the faithful. Rather, it inspires lack of faith in the faithless and wavering in some of the faithful.”
Then, having given a Dhamma talk on what is seemly & becoming for monks, he addressed the monks:
“Once, monks, there were two brothers who were hermits living on the banks of the Ganges. Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, coming up out of the river Ganges, went to the younger hermit and, on arrival, having encircled him seven times with his coils, stood spreading his great hood above his head. Then the younger hermit, through fear of the nāga, became thin, wretched, unattractive, & jaundiced, his body covered with veins. The elder brother, seeing his younger brother thin… his body covered with veins, asked him, ‘Why are you thin… your body covered with veins?’
“‘Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, coming up out of the river Ganges, comes to me and, on arrival, having encircled me seven times with his coils, stands spreading his great hood above my head. Through fear of the nāga I have become thin … my body covered with veins.’
“‘But do you want that nāga not to return?’
“‘I want the nāga not to return.’
“‘Do you see that this nāga has anything?’
“‘I see that he is ornamented with a jewel on his throat.’
“‘Then beg the nāga for the jewel, saying, “Good sir, give me your jewel. I want your jewel.”’
“Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, coming up out of the river Ganges, went to the younger hermit and, on arrival, stood to one side. As he was standing there, the younger hermit said to him, ‘Good sir, give me your jewel. I want your jewel.’ Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, thinking, ‘The monk is begging for my jewel. The monk wants my jewel,’ hurried off. Then a second time, the nāga-king, coming up out of the river Ganges, went toward the younger hermit. Seeing him from afar, the younger hermit said to him, ‘Good sir, give me your jewel. I want your jewel.’ Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, thinking, ‘The monk is begging for my jewel. The monk wants my jewel,’ hurried off. Then a third time, the nāga-king came up out of the river Ganges. Seeing him come up out of the river Ganges, the younger hermit said to him, ‘Good sir, give me your jewel. I want your jewel.’
“Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, addressed the younger hermit with this verse:
My food & drink
are produced grandly, abundantly,
by means of this jewel.
I won’t give it to you.
You’re one who asks
too much.
Nor will I come to your hermitage.
Like a youth with a sharp sword in his hand,
you scare me, begging for my stone.
I won’t give it to you.
You’re one who asks
too much.
Nor will I come to your hermitage.
“Then Maṇikaṇṭha, the nāga-king, thinking, ‘The monk is begging for my jewel. The monk wants my jewel,’ went away. And having gone away, he never again returned. Then the younger hermit, from not seeing that lovely nāga, became even thinner, more wretched, unattractive, & jaundiced, his body cover with veins. His older brother saw that he was even thinner… his body covered with veins, and on seeing him, he asked him, ‘Why are you even thinner… your body covered with veins?’
“‘It’s from not seeing that lovely nāga that I am even thinner… my body covered with veins.’
“Then the elder hermit addressed the younger hermit with this verse:
Don’t beg for what you covet
from one who is dear.
Begging too much
is detested.
The nāga, begged by a brāhman for his jewel,
went away from there,
never again to be seen.
“Monks, begging is unpleasant, hinting is unpleasant even to those who are common animals—how much more so to human beings?”
“Once, monks, a monk lived on the slopes of the Himalayas in a forest grove. Not far from the grove was a broad, low-lying marsh. A great flock of birds, after feeding all day in the marsh, went to roost in the grove at nightfall. The monk was annoyed by the noise of that flock of birds.
“So he came to me and, on arrival, having bowed down, sat to one side. As he was sitting there, I said to him, ‘I hope, monk, that you are well, that you are getting along, that you have completed your journey with little fatigue. Where have you come from?”
“I am well, lord, am getting along, and have completed my journey with little fatigue. Lord, there is a large forest grove on the slopes of the Himalayas, and not far from it is a broad, low-lying marsh. A great flock of birds, after feeding all day in the marsh, goes to roost in the grove at nightfall. That is why I have come to see the Blessed One—because I am annoyed by the noise of that flock of birds.’
“‘Monk, you want those birds to go away for good?’
“‘Yes, lord, I want them to go away for good.’
“‘Then go back there, enter the forest, and in the first watch of the night make this announcement three times: “Listen to me, good birds. I want a feather from everyone roosting in this forest. Each of you give me one feather.” In the second watch… In the third watch of the night make this announcement three times: “Listen to me, good birds. I want a feather from everyone roosting in this forest. Each of you give me one feather”…. [The monk did as he was told.] Then the flock of birds, thinking, ‘The monk begs for a feather, the monk wants a feather,’ left the forest. And after they were gone, they never again returned. Monks, begging is unpleasant, hinting is unpleasant even to these common animals—how much more so to human beings?”
“Once, monks, the father of Raṭṭhapāla the clansman addressed Raṭṭhapāla with this verse:
‘Although I don’t know them, Raṭṭhapāla,
many people,
on meeting me,
beg from me.
Why don’t you beg from me?’
‘A beggar isn’t liked.
One who,
on being begged, doesn’t give
isn’t liked.
That’s why I don’t beg from you:
so that you will not detest me.’
“Monks, if Raṭṭhapāla the clansman can speak this way to his father, why not a stranger to a stranger?” — Saṅghādisesa 6
