The Last Bowl of Porridge

In the dim light of an early morning in ancient India, thin wisps of smoke rose from low thatched roofs. In a corner of a dilapidated hut, an old Brahmin sat huddled by his fire pit, his cloudy eyes fixed on a pot of porridge bubbling gently. He was gaunt, his clothes patched and worn, yet today his face held a strange joy.

He had been a childhood friend of the father of Shariputra. Once neighbors, one family had grown wealthy and powerful while the other remained destitute. When he heard that his friend’s son had renounced the world and attained enlightenment, becoming the foremost in wisdom and leader of the Sangha, he rejoiced. He secretly attended dharma talks many times, but whenever he saw Shariputra from afar, he would slip away to avoid being seen. He felt ashamed. How could someone so poor, with ragged clothes and dirty hands, dare approach such a noble figure?

Yet, his devotion grew stronger. He wished to make offerings to him, even if only once in his life. He fasted and thirsted, saving every grain of good rice and every choice morsel of food. He even managed to buy a piece of beautiful, soft, dark brown cloth. He cherished this fabric as if it were his own heart. One day, he cooked a fragrant mixed porridge, the rice blooming perfectly, garnished with herbs and sesame salt. Trembling, he carried the hot bowl to the monastery where Shariputra resided.

Upon meeting him, the old man knelt, offering the porridge and the cloth with a choked voice. “Venerable sir, I am humble and have nothing else. Please accept this bowl of porridge and this piece of cloth. Grant me your blessing.” Shariputra looked at him with silent compassion. He knew that this porridge and cloth represented the man’s sweat, tears, and sincere heart. He sat down and ate every last drop of the porridge without leaving a single bite. Then, he took the cloth and wore it beneath his robes for warmth. The old man watched him, tears rolling down his wrinkled cheeks. Joyful, he bowed in gratitude and left. Soon after, he passed away.

In his next life, he was reborn into a wealthy and devout lay family. During her pregnancy, the mother’s mind naturally turned toward Shariputra. She frequently invited him and the monks to her home for offerings. The child born was a handsome boy whom everyone loved. When he met Shariputra, the baby smiled brightly, rejoicing as if recognizing an old connection. The father asked Shariputra to name the child. Taking the last syllable of his own name, Tissa, Shariputra named the boy Tissa.

At seven years old, young Tissa requested ordination under Shariputra. His family rejoiced. From then on, wherever novice monk Tissa went, people offered him gifts and loved him deeply. During the bone-chilling Indian winters, seeing the monks lacked blankets, the moment Tissa thought of needing them, people would pile blankets onto his hands during alms rounds. His merit was extraordinary. However, as he grew older, he became troubled by the constant visits from relatives and devotees. One day, he approached Shariputra and said, “Teacher, please allow me to retreat to a remote forest area for some time.” Shariputra nodded and smiled.

Novice Tissa took his robe and bowl and traveled to a small village near the forest. The villagers admired his dignified conduct and cared for him greatly. They built him a small hut, and they took turns bringing food daily. With each person, he spoke only one sentence: “May you receive many blessings and practice diligently.” Then, he quietly entered the deep forest, meditating under trees, forgetting the passage of time. Practicing with great diligence, he soon attained the fruit of Arhatship.

Knowing his disciple had achieved enlightenment, Shariputra led a group of monks to visit him. The villagers were overjoyed; they cleared a space, set up tables, and made offerings to the Sangha. After the meal, Shariputra said, “Tissa, please give a dharma talk for everyone.” The villagers were surprised. “But this novice has only ever said ‘blessings and diligence’!” Yet when Tissa ascended the teaching seat, he expounded like rain falling from clouds, analyzing profound meanings, the suffering of the world, states of meditative concentration, and the peace of nirvana. Everyone listened in admiration and awe.

The Buddha, knowing this from afar, used his supernatural power to appear at the village entrance, leading Tissa and the monks to a high mountain peak. Standing there amidst the vast wind and clouds, the Buddha asked, “Tissa, do you see the ocean?” Tissa replied, “World-Honored One, I do. Seeing the ocean, I think that the tears of sentient beings are more abundant than the water in the sea.” The Buddha praised him, saying, “Excellent!” He then asked, “When you see the vast earth, what do you think?” Tissa answered, “I think there is no place where the bodies of sentient beings have not been buried.” The Buddha praised him again. Asking further, “When you retreated in the forest and heard the cries of wild animals, how did you feel?” Tissa smiled. “World-Honored One, my heart loved the forest dearly.”

The Buddha extolled him: “Like novice Tissa, who was famous in Jetavana Grove, beloved by many, and fully supplied with necessities, yet viewed these things as burdens and abandoned them to practice in the forest and attain the Way. Truly praiseworthy!” And he spoke this verse: “The bliss of nirvana differs from worldly pleasures. Monks, disciples of the Buddha, understand this clearly. Do not cling to fame and profit; cultivate the practice of seclusion.”

The Meaning of the Story

The story of novice Tissa reveals the power of sincere offerings made even in poverty, and the importance of letting go of fame and profit to seek solitude for diligent practice. The idea that the tears of sentient beings exceed the ocean’s water serves as a reminder of the endless suffering of samsara (cycle of rebirth). The path to liberation lies in abandoning worldly sensual pleasures and turning toward the peace of nirvana.

Compiled from the dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang