The Mother of Matica and the Sixty Arahants

The village of Matica lay at the foot of a mountain, where a clear stream flowed through endless fertile fields. Orchards hung heavy with fruit, and simple thatched houses felt warm and welcoming. The air was fresh, birdsong filled the sky, and the life of the people there was peaceful and gentle.

The village chief of Matica was a wealthy man who always cared for his people. Yet the one most revered in the village was his mother — an elderly woman of great virtue, who loved others like her own children and grandchildren. Everyone who met her called her "Mother," for she always opened her arms wide, ready to help anyone in difficulty. She often asked her son to give money and rice to the poor, and she gently guided those who had gone astray. She was a symbol of love and moral goodness in that quiet countryside.

One day, sixty bhikkhus, wandering on their journey, came to this happy village. They were going on alms round when they met the mother of Matica. She asked them: "Venerable sirs, where do you come from? Under whom do you practice? And what brings you here?" They replied: "We are disciples of the World-Honored One, the Ascetic Gotama, the teacher of gods and humans, the Fully Awakened One. We practice his teaching in search of liberation, living on alms. Today, favorable conditions have brought us to this village. Seeing how beautiful the land is and how kind its people, we have come for alms and hope to stay here and practice."

Hearing this, the mother of Matica's eyes lit up, and she said at once: "Very well, my children, stay here. I will build a monastery for you to practice in." The bhikkhus remained silent, offering no objection, only smiling. She then made offerings of food, and had a monastery built large enough for all sixty of them. After the three-month rains retreat, she requested the three refuges and the five precepts, becoming a devoted Buddhist.

The sixty bhikkhus were sincere practitioners of virtue. They knew the opportunity had come, and they must devote themselves fully to their practice. They established a set of six rules: first, to be aware that the lower realms await those who do not practice well; second, to remember the Buddha's gratitude for teaching the path of liberation; third, each one was to dwell in a separate place, with no one meeting another to talk; fourth, they would meet only in the afternoon to serve the elders; fifth, they would meet in the morning to go on alms round; and sixth, if anyone fell ill, he would knock on a piece of wood so that the others would come to help. The rules were simple but strict, cutting off every form of entertainment — their only remaining pleasure was talking with one another.

One day, the mother of Matica brought butter and sugarcane syrup to the monastery. She was surprised to find it completely deserted, without a single person in sight. She thought: "Perhaps they quarreled and no longer live together?" A bhikkhu walking in meditation nearby asked what she wanted. She said: "Mother wishes to see my children." The bhikkhu told her: "Knock on the wood, and they will all gather." She knocked, and sixty bhikkhus came running out from different corners, each from his own direction, no two walking together. She asked: "Did you quarrel, that you refuse to live together?" They answered: "No, we each want to restrain ourselves and practice without wasting time in conversation, so each of us lives alone." She asked further: "And what is this practice you do?" They said: "We contemplate the body, sitting in full lotus, observing this body part by part — how it will grow old, die, decay, and crumble into dust blown away by the wind. And within this body there is the breath coming in and going out." She asked: "Does this practice exclude laypeople like me?" They replied: "No, anyone who practices will benefit." She immediately asked to learn, and they taught her. She went home and practiced — and astonishingly, she attained the fruit of Anagami, the third fruit, before any of the bhikkhus, gaining supernatural powers and the ability to observe the minds of others from afar.

After attaining this fruit, she used the divine eye to observe the bhikkhus. She saw that not one had yet attained the path — they still had ignorance, with greed, hatred and delusion lurking within. She investigated the cause and discovered that their food was insufficient. Poor nutrition made it impossible for them to gather and steady their minds. She then instructed her children and grandchildren to provide food in full, precisely matching what each bhikkhu craved. She knew each one's mind: one who liked curry received curry; one who liked mung bean sweet soup with coconut milk received sweet soup; one who liked Hue noodle soup received Hue noodle soup; one who liked pho received pho. Whoever was weak received medicine. Before long, all sixty attained the fruit of Arahantship.

After the rains retreat, the sixty bhikkhus returned to report to the Buddha. The Buddha asked: "While practicing there, was your food sufficient? Was your lodging comfortable? Was there anyone caring for you?" They answered: "World-Honored One, we met the mother of Matica. She provided for us in every way. The moment we had a thought of needing something, she fulfilled it at once. On days we felt cold, she gave us blankets. On days a brother craved mung bean sweet soup, she brought it. On days we were too tired to go for alms, she brought food to us. On days we caught a cold, she gave us medicine. Thanks to her, we have accomplished liberation."

Another bhikkhu, hearing this story, felt his heart stir with excitement. He thought: "Someone so wonderful — whatever I want, she provides. How delightful!" He asked the Buddha for permission to go there, and the Buddha consented. When he arrived, the mother of Matica welcomed him warmly. At first he was delighted: his old robes were replaced with new ones; the walkway was repaired; when he craved Thai hotpot, she gave him Thai hotpot; when he wanted salad, she gave him salad. But on the fourth day, he began to feel afraid. He thought: "Goodness! Whatever thought arises, she knows it all. I have not yet attained the path — my mind is full of all sorts of things. What if she knows everything?" He packed his things and fled back to the Buddha. He said: "World-Honored One, the life there is comfortable, but I am terrified because she knows my every thought. Whatever I think, she knows it. How could I dare live near such a person?" The Buddha, knowing the full circumstances, advised him: "You must return there. That is the place where you can practice well. Take care to guard your own mind. And if she does happen to read it, then let your mind be filled with compassion, wisdom, and reason. Who told you to think improper thoughts?" Hearing the Buddha's words, he sorrowfully took up his bowl and robes and returned. He anxiously guarded his mind, not daring to think a single improper thought. Three days later, he attained the path.

Upon attaining the path, he recalled all his past lives. At the ninety-ninth life back, he saw that the mother of Matica had been his wife in that life, and that she had been unfaithful and had killed him. He froze, thinking: "This woman was truly wicked." But she, observing him at that very moment, sent him a thought: "Look one more life further back." He observed the hundredth life back and saw that she had also been his wife, but this time she had saved his life. His heart softened, and he saw that the two of them shared a deep karmic connection. Afterwards, she asked him about the fruit of Arahantship, and he explained it to her. When he finished, he entered nirvana.

The meaning of the story

This story teaches that the human mind is wild and unruly, spinning after sensual desires. Whoever can tame the mind will attain boundless peace. Taming the mind comes not only from personal effort, but also from favorable conditions, the support of others, and compassion. The mother of Matica, though she had only attained the third fruit, through her compassionate heart and wisdom helped sixty bhikkhus attain the path. At the same time, the story reminds us that sometimes the fear of having our minds known by another can become the very motivation for keeping our minds pure — and from there, attaining enlightenment.

Compiled from a dharma talk by the Venerable Thich Chan Quang.