Seven Times Ordained

This is the story of a farmer named Chitaha who ordained and returned to lay life seven times, finally attaining realization thanks to deep roots of goodness and the lesson in cause and effect (karmic law) that comes from encouraging another to abandon the path.

On a sweltering summer noon, the sun poured fire down upon the winding dirt path leading to Jetavana monastery. A man trudged along, leading an exhausted ox, sweat streaming down his face, darkened by sun and wind. His name was Chitaha, a farmer living on the outskirts of Savatthi. Since early morning he had wandered through the forests searching for his lost ox, and now that he had found it, his stomach was gnawing with hunger.

Chitaha was not poor, but he was not wealthy either. He had a thatched house, a small field, a frequently sour-tempered wife, and several children. His life revolved around furrows, seeds, and his cattle. He had never thought of becoming a monk, never dreamed of another kind of life. But today, hungry and weary, he happened to pass by the monastery, where the monks were receiving their meal.

He stopped and looked inside. The monks sat solemnly and serenely, each spoonful of rice lifted slowly, with purity. The aroma of food drifted out, and his stomach churned. He swallowed, but did not dare step in and ask. He simply stood there, watching, and longing.

An elderly monk saw him. With a gentle smile, the monk rose, took some food that had been set aside — as the Buddha had taught the Sangha to always keep ready for unexpected guests — and carried the bowl of rice to the gate, offering it to Chitaha.

"Here, child, eat. You must be very hungry, aren't you?"

Chitaha took the bowl with trembling hands. He ate ravenously, all the while watching the monks. They were gentle, not toiling and struggling as he was, yet they had such fine food. His heart stirred.

"Venerable sir… is it easy to become a monk?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

The monk looked at him and smiled: "If the aspiration to practice arises, then let him ordain. All that is needed is a sincere heart."

Chitaha did not think much. He entrusted his ox to someone to take home, then stayed at the monastery. Head shaved, robes donned, he ordained. Everything happened so quickly that even he was surprised.

But after only half a month, he began to miss things. He missed his wife, his children, his field, his oxen, the seeds he had just sown. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Finally, he quietly bade farewell to the teachers and went home.

Back home, he plowed and labored again. But his wife scolded him endlessly. He remembered life at the monastery: the teachers moving with such composure, sitting in meditation, listening to the sutras — something sacred that he could not find in his fields. So once more, without his wife knowing, he rolled up his robes and left.

This time he lasted a month. Then again he missed his wife, his children, his home. And again he returned.

In this way he went back and forth, ordaining and disrobing, six times in all. Each time, the monks received him back, though with some weariness. They thought: "Surely this time will be like the others — a few days and he will leave again."

But on the seventh time, something was different. He was plowing his field at midday when suddenly a piercing, intense longing for the monastery arose in his heart, as if someone were urging him from within. He looked at his wife dozing in the house — she was slovenly, unkempt, no longer attractive in any way. He looked at the field, at his oxen — all of it was temporary, marked by impermanence (anicca). A thought pierced deep into his heart: "The world is impermanent (anicca); only the path of liberation is precious."

He grabbed his robe and ran. His mother-in-law saw him and shouted after him: "Hey, where are you going? Abandoning your wife and children?"

Chitaha did not turn his head. He ran straight ahead, running as if flying toward the monastery. Along the way, his mind was fixed firmly on the subject "the world is impermanent (anicca)." He contemplated, gathering and restraining his mind, firmly and completely. As he approached the monastery gate, he realized the fruit of Stream-entry, the first stage of awakening.

When he came to request ordination for the seventh time, the monks sighed at the very sight of his face. One said: "You want to ordain again? How many days will it last this time?"

Chitaha bowed his head, his voice unusually calm: "Venerable sirs, this time I am staying for good."

The monks looked at one another and shook their heads. They held little hope. But this time, his resolve to practice was firm. Just over ten days later, he attained the fruit of Arahantship, becoming a venerable elder, serene and dignified, perfect in deportment.

The monks asked in amazement: "Why didn't you go home this time? How is your practice so steady?"

Chitaha smiled and did not mention his attainment. He simply replied: "I have understood that the nature of the world is temporary and impermanent (anicca). Only the path of liberation is precious. That is why my practice is steady."

Hearing his answer, so firm and grounded, the monks went to ask the Buddha. The Buddha then recounted a distant past: In the era of a Buddha long past, Chitaha had also been a practitioner. At that time, a fellow practitioner came to him, saying he wished to return to lay life. Chitaha had said: "Well then, if you cannot keep practicing, just go home." Because of that one word of encouragement, he had to endure the karmic result of ordaining and disrobing six times, and only on the seventh time did he attain realization.

The Buddha taught: "Every thought, every word carries cause and effect (karmic law). Encouraging someone to abandon the path is itself creating karma that causes one to undergo such abandonments oneself."

The Meaning of the Story

This story teaches us about the subtle law of cause and effect (karmic law): every word, every thought that encourages abandoning the path or abandoning goodness leaves an imprint in the mind, causing us to encounter difficulties along the way of practice. At the same time, the story shows that deep roots of goodness accumulated over many lifetimes can help us overcome every obstacle — but we must be diligent, and not let fleeting thoughts lead us astray. Let us always be careful with every word we speak and every thought that arises.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.