The Buddha's Cloth

That midday, the sun poured fire down upon Mr. Kiba's mango grove. A humid wind swept through the canopy of trees, scattering the thin layer of dust on the ground, making the air seem to shimmer in the heat. Beneath an ancient tree, whose shade spread out like a pool of cool water, a young monk sat huddled with his head in his hands, his face full of despair. He was Cudapanthaka, known throughout the Sangha as so dull-witted that he could not even memorize a single short verse.

He remembered the painful days just past. His elder brother, Mahapanthaka, was a renowned monk of sharp wisdom. Seeing that his younger brother had come to ordain yet learned nothing, he grew angry and scolded him: "You are too stupid. Staying here only wastes the rice and food offered by the faithful. Go home and serve your parents—at least that would bring some worldly merit!" With that, his brother grabbed his sleeve, dragged him out of the monastery, and pushed him toward the gate. Cudapanthaka stood frozen in the road, tears streaming down his thin cheeks. He dared not return home, and he dared not go back to the monastery. He simply stood there, covering his face and sobbing, until a warm hand was placed upon his shoulder.

He looked up. The Buddha stood before him, gazing at him with eyes of compassion. He prostrated himself and said, choking back tears: "World-Honored One, I am too stupid. I cannot even learn the first verse. My brother says I should go home, for I have gained nothing by living the holy life." The Buddha smiled, his voice deep and warm like a flowing stream: "Then do you wish to practice for liberation?" Cudapanthaka burst into tears: "World-Honored One, that is the burning dream of my heart. Not for a moment does my longing for liberation fade." The Buddha nodded: "Then with whom did you go forth?" "With you, World-Honored One." "Then I have not told you to leave—why did you leave? Stay here, and sit beneath this tree."

The Buddha led him to a boulder in the shade of the tree and told him to sit down. Then the Buddha extended his hand. Miraculously, in the palm of his hand appeared a pure white cloth. Cudapanthaka stared wide-eyed, not understanding. The Buddha said: "Take this cloth and wipe your face. Each time you wipe it, say: 'Washing away the filth.' Keep wiping until you realize the truth of it. Today you need not go for alms, and you may not leave. Just sit here."

Having spoken, the Buddha, together with nearly a thousand monks, left the mango grove and walked into the city to take his meal at Mr. Kiba's home. Cudapanthaka sat alone beneath the tree, holding the white cloth. He began to wipe his face, murmuring: "Washing away the filth. Washing away the filth." Strangely, the pure white cloth, after only a few wipes, turned yellow, then blotched, then dark and grimy. The faster he wiped, the dirtier it became. He looked at the blackened cloth in his hands, and his heart suddenly softened. A thought flashed through his mind: "My face is not nearly this dirty, yet the cloth became filthy so quickly. The human body truly is a mass of impurity—how repulsive it is!"

He sat in silence, looking at the dirty cloth, then at his own hands. He contemplated his body from head to toe: hair, body hair, nails, teeth, skin, flesh, bones, blood, pus, phlegm, excrement, urine—all of it filthy and unclean. A feeling of weariness and renunciation arose within him. He no longer felt any attachment to this body. In that moment, his mind grew still, and all his afflictions (kleshas) seemed to dissolve. He entered meditative concentration right where he sat, naturally and gently, like water flowing into the sea.

Meanwhile, at Mr. Kiba's home, the Buddha sat serenely. He knew that Cudapanthaka's spiritual capacity had ripened. He then emanated a duplicate of himself, appearing before the monk meditating beneath the tree. The Buddha spoke, his voice full of compassion yet commanding power: "Cudapanthaka, the dirt of the body is a small matter. The dirt of the mind is what truly matters. What is the dirt of the mind? It is greed, hatred and delusion—selfishness, deceit, misunderstanding, wrong thinking, ignorance. These are the stains you must wash away."

As soon as these words were spoken, it was as if a stream of light shone into Cudapanthaka's soul. He clearly saw the polluted nature of greed, hatred and delusion. He let everything go, and his mind became completely pure. He attained the fruit of an Arhat right then and there. The Buddha smiled, vanished, and returned to Mr. Kiba's home.

At that moment, Mr. Kiba and his household began bringing out food to serve into the monks' bowls. When they came before the Buddha's bowl, the Buddha raised his hand to stop them and asked: "Is there still a monk remaining at the monastery?" The novice Pantaka stood up and replied: "World-Honored One, no one remains in the mango grove." The Buddha said: "No, go and look." Mr. Kiba hastily ordered two or three of his household to leap onto horses and gallop back to the mango grove. When they ran in, they were stunned: before them stood a thousand monks—some standing, some walking, some sitting in meditation, some pacing—but all of them had identical faces, identical to Cudapanthaka's. They hurried back, prostrated before the Buddha, and reported: "World-Honored One, there are a thousand monks in the monastery, all with the very same face!"

The Buddha smiled and said: "Go and ask which one is Cudapanthaka, and invite that one here." The servant rode back again, knelt down, and asked: "Respectfully, which one of you is Cudapanthaka?" All thousand monks answered in unison: "I am Cudapanthaka!" The servant, flustered, not knowing whom to ask, rode back again and reported to the Buddha. The Buddha instructed: "Go and ask again, and invite the one who answers first." The servant rode back once more, and as soon as he finished his question, Cudapanthaka spoke up: "I am Cudapanthaka." At that very moment, the other nine hundred and ninety-nine monks vanished. The monk rose and followed the servant back to Mr. Kiba's home.

When Cudapanthaka walked in, the entire assembly was astonished. He walked with dignity, his face radiant, his eyes full of compassion, majestic as a great sage. After the meal, as was the custom, the Buddha would give a dharma talk. But that day, the Buddha said: "Cudapanthaka, you shall give the dharma talk to our benefactor." He obeyed, ascended the dharma seat, and roared the lion's roar, expounding the Dharma without end. Profound and wondrous teachings poured forth like a flowing spring, astonishing and inspiring all the monks and laypeople alike. One who, only the day before, could not memorize a single verse, today gave a dharma talk like clouds and rain, fluent in the entire canon of scriptures.

Toward evening, everyone gathered around the Buddha and asked about the strange event concerning Cudapanthaka. The Buddha then recounted: "In the time of the Buddha Kasyapa, Cudapanthaka was a great monk, accomplished in practice. But because he could not restrain his pride and lacked loving kindness, when he saw a fellow monk struggling, he mocked him. That karma remained, so in this life he had to reap its fruit, becoming a dull-witted person despised by others. For a single moment of mocking someone less capable, he had to suffer for nearly a year. Therefore, when we criticize someone, it is only because of our own pride and lack of love. If we were not proud, if we had love in our hearts, we would never disparage anyone."

The Buddha continued: "As for why I used the cloth to liberate him: many hundreds of lifetimes ago, Cudapanthaka was once a king. On one occasion, while traveling in disguise, the road was dusty, and the king used a cloth to wipe his face. Seeing how dirty the cloth had become, the king had this thought: 'This body truly is unclean and impure.' That thought was planted firmly in his mind, becoming a seed of contemplative insight. Today, I used the miraculous cloth to awaken that seed, allowing it to blossom into wisdom, and the fruits of his past lifetimes of meditative concentration returned to him in full."

From that time on, Cudapanthaka became an outstanding Arhat, respected by the entire Sangha. His story reminds everyone of the wonder of determination, of the power of contemplating the impurity of the body, and of the consequences of criticizing and despising others.

## The Meaning of the Story

The story teaches us this: never disparage or look down on those less capable than ourselves, for this is an expression of pride and a lack of love, and it will bring painful consequences. At the same time, even when facing obstacles, if we hold firm to our aspiration to practice, know how to contemplate the impurity of the body, and practice letting go, we can overcome everything and attain enlightenment. Always be diligent, never cease striving, and tame your own mind/heart.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.