The Mother Matica and Sixty Monks at the Foot of the Mountain

The sun had just set behind the mountain range, casting a red glow over the fruit trees of Matica village. The sound of a stream trickled from the edge of the village, mingling with the faint scent of straw in the evening breeze. Mother Matica walked slowly along the dirt path, her garment fluttering gently with each aged step. She was the mother of the region’s wealthiest chieftain, yet she never sat idly in their grand house. Instead, she visited every home, seeing muddy children and frail elders, feeling compassion as if they were her own flesh and blood. To those in hardship, she opened her granaries; to those who erred, she offered guidance like a loving parent. The village thrived in peace and abundance, its people remarkably gentle. Thus, anyone meeting her would bow and call out, “Mother Matica, are you going?” This title of “mother” echoed as a sign of unconditional love, transcending all kinship.

The story began one morning several months prior. Sixty monks, bareheaded and carrying alms bowls, quietly entered the village after days of wandering without shelter. Seeing the tranquil scene, they paused. Mother Matica looked upon their tattered yellow robes, and her heart swelled with sorrow. Though she had lived a virtuous life caring for many, she had never encountered a monk before. In that single moment, she decided to make offerings of land, rice, and bricks, building a beautiful monastery at the foot of the mountain. She called herself “mother” and addressed them as “children,” acting with pure sincerity, unaware of monastic rules. The monks, equally gentle, accepted her invitation without objection. During the three-month rains retreat, she took refuge in the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha, receiving the Five Precepts and officially becoming a Buddhist lay follower. She thought, “I am old now; doing something for the Sangha is my blessing.”

However, when the monastery grew quiet, she began to feel uneasy. One day, bringing butter and molasses, she entered the courtyard to find it empty, the wind creaking through the doors. She wondered, “Could these spiritual children be quarreling and refusing to see each other?” Standing bewildered in the yard, she clutched her garment, her heart pounding with worry about their harmony. Seeing a monk walking meditation in the distance, she called out:

“Child, I wish to see you all. Why is it so empty? Are you angry with one another?”

The monk shook his head, his gaze serene:

“Mother, if you wish to meet us, please strike the gong. We have agreed not to gather casually; each person practices in their own corner.”

Doubtful, she picked up the mallet and struck the gong several times. Hurriedly, sixty monks emerged from meditation, coming from different directions, none walking together. Her heart tightened further, thinking, “They must definitely be fighting.” She asked:

“Did you argue and refuse to live together?”

They replied:

“No, we wished to focus on our practice and avoid wasting time on conversation, so we stayed apart.”

She continued:

“What exactly do you practice?”

The monk explained:

“We contemplate the body, sitting in full lotus posture. The Buddha taught us to observe this body part by part, recognizing it will age, die, be eaten by animals, or decay. We watch the breath entering and leaving, knowing each detail clearly.”

She asked:

“Is this practice forbidden for laypeople like me?”

He said:

“Anyone who practices benefits greatly.”

She bowed her head:

“Please teach me.”

They instructed her, and she grasped the method. Returning home, she sat in meditation. Unexpectedly, she attained enlightenment before the sixty monks, achieving the stage of Non-Returner (Anagami), gaining supernatural powers and the divine eye.

Using her divine eye, she looked back at the sixty monks and saw that none had attained enlightenment yet; they still harbored ignorance, greed, hatred, and delusion. She examined the cause and effect (karmic law): they had the conditions for practice, comfortable housing, and harmonious living. But when she considered nutrition, she paused. Their daily alms food lacked sufficient nutrients, preventing them from gathering meditative concentration. She called her family and said:

“From now on, when the Sangha returns from alms rounds, I will supplement their meals precisely according to each monk’s preference. If one likes curry, give curry; if one likes ham, give ham; if one likes Hue vermicelli, give Hue vermicelli. If anyone is weak and needs medicine, bring it immediately.”

Her family obeyed. Knowing each mind, she provided exactly what was needed. Soon, the sixty monks successively attained Arhatship. At the end of the rains retreat, they returned to report to the Buddha. He deliberately asked:

“Was there enough food? Was the lodging comfortable?”

They replied:

“World-Honored One, we met Mother Matica, who cared for everything. As soon as we thought of a need, she fulfilled it. When cold, she brought blankets. When craving green bean soup with coconut milk, she brought it. If someone was too tired to go for alms, she made offerings directly. For coughs, she gave medicine. Thanks to this, we achieved our goal.”

The Buddha smiled. A nearby monk, hearing this, felt intense delight, thinking, “What a wonderful person! Whatever I want, she provides. How blissful!” He asked the Buddha for permission to return to the village. The Buddha nodded. Upon arrival, Mother Matica welcomed him as well. On the first day, seeing his old robe, she brought a new one. Noticing poor pathways, she fixed them instantly. He liked Thai hot pot, so she brought it; he liked raw fish salad, so she brought that too. But by the fourth day, his heart sank, and cold sweat ran down his spine:

“Oh no, she knows every thought I have. My mind is not pure; how can I live if she reads it?”

He hastily packed his bowl and robe, running desperately back to the Buddha, stammering:

“World-Honored One, life was comfortable, but I fear she knows my entire mind. Whatever I think, she knows. How can I stay?”

The Buddha said:

“I know. But you must return. That is a good place for practice.”

Sorrowful, he secretly returned with his bowl and robe. Mother Matica still knew his thoughts and continued making offerings. The Buddha advised him:

“Do not fear. Focus on guarding your mind. If she reads it, let her see only compassion and wisdom. Just maintain this for three days.”

Trembling, he guarded his mind. After three days, he suddenly attained Arhatship. He recalled past lives: in the ninety-ninth life, she had been his wife, committed adultery, and killed him. He froze, shocked. Then, she sent a mental message:

“Observe one more life.”

He looked into the hundredth life, where she was also his wife but had saved his life. His heart softened. They exchanged minds, and he explained the realm of Arhatship to her telepathically. Afterwards, he entered nirvana, leaving his body. Mother Matica later ascended to the heavenly realms, destined to attain enlightenment hundreds of thousands of years later.

**The Meaning of the Story**

This tale illustrates how the human mind rolls uncontrollably with desire, difficult to tame. Yet, when others perceive our minds clearly, and we strive to keep our hearts pure, we advance rapidly toward enlightenment. Mother Matica’s skillful making offerings, providing proper nutrition and vast compassion, created the blessings from merit that helped the Sangha succeed. Meanwhile, the monk who feared being known attained realization precisely because that fear compelled him to guard his mind. Whoever tames the mind will gain boundless peace.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang