Two Friends and the Lesson of Jetavana

That summer at Jetavana Grove in Savatthi, hot winds swept through the rustling bodhi trees. The sound of the bell rose in solemn waves, and the fragrance of agarwood drifted gently, weaving into the robes of the monks walking in meditation. In that stillness, two samanas stood a few steps apart beneath a sala tree. One clutched his prayer beads tightly, his knuckles pale from gripping; the other gazed into the distance, his shoulders slightly tense, as if holding back something about to burst forth.

"It has been so long since I saw my friend. Now I will question him on the Dharma, ask him about the teachings, to see whether I am better or he is," the samana holding the beads thought to himself, the corners of his lips curling into a smug smile not yet fully formed.

These two had been close friends even before they shaved their beards and hair. Back when they were merchants of the Vaishya caste, they were wealthy, with tall spacious houses, fine horses and carriages, and they often sat drinking wine together under the moonlight, discussing business. They were kindred spirits, both virtuous people who understood what was right. When the Buddha came to stay at Anathapindika's park, the two went to hear him teach. After that dharma talk, both resolved to ordain, leaving behind wives, children, gold and silver, and stepping onto the monastic path from exactly the same starting point.

For the first five years, according to Buddhist discipline, they had to train as novices, cultivating deportment and precepts. Every step, every glance, every smile had to be proper and fitting. No more of the careless gestures of their merchant days. After five years as bhikkhus, the two came before the Buddha to request deeper training. The Buddha taught that there are two aspects: study of the Dharma and practice of the Dharma.

"World-Honored One, I feel I lack the wisdom to study extensively. These five years I have learned the foundations; now I ask to go forth into deep practice," the first one bowed his head, his voice reverent.

The Buddha permitted him to leave Jetavana for a quiet monastery devoted to practice. The second one asked to remain:

"I have an aptitude for study. I wish to stay at Jetavana, learning and practicing together."

And so each went his own way. The one devoted to practice went deep into meditative concentration and realized the fruit of the path. The one devoted to study went to each elder asking to hear the sutras recited, memorizing them, becoming skilled in teaching the Dharma, gaining many disciples and renown among the people. Nearly ten years passed, and outwardly both had matured, both had disciples—they looked exactly alike.

One day, the one devoted to practice led his disciples back to Jetavana to pay homage to the Buddha after nearly ten years apart. Hearing that his friend had returned, the one devoted to study felt a thought arise in his heart: "It has been so long. I will question him on the Dharma and see who is superior." The moment that thought arose, the Buddha knew it through the power of reading others' minds. Fearing that his friend would fall because of a competitive heart, he appeared the instant the two met, before a single word was spoken.

"Sit down, both of you. Let me ask: what does one who attains the first jhana gain?" the Buddha said, his deep warm voice filling the guest hall.

The one devoted to study answered quickly:

"World-Honored One, one who attains the first jhana is secluded from sensual desire, secluded from unwholesome states, with applied and sustained thought, and the whole body suffused with rapture and bliss."

The Buddha nodded and asked about the second jhana, the third jhana, and then the noble fruits. The student answered the theory word for word, but when asked what the actually realized state of mind was like, he faltered:

"I... I only know that the three fetters are severed. As for how the state itself transforms, I do not know."

Then the Buddha turned to the one devoted to practice and asked about the first jhana. He replied:

"World-Honored One, the first jhana is secluded from desire, secluded from unwholesome states, with applied and sustained thought, the body suffused with rapture and bliss born of seclusion from desire, like a lump of soap lather or bath milk."

When the Buddha asked why evil does not arise in such a state, he explained thoroughly:

"Evil attaches only when the mind stirs. When the mind is pure, evil has nowhere to attach. Goodness and the pure mind stand on the same side; evil and agitation stand together."

The Buddha asked about the fourth jhana and the four fruits, and he answered each state in detail. The Buddha praised him point by point, and the devas in the heavens resounded with admiration. The disciples of the student, seeing their teacher unpraised, muttered in discontent:

"Our teacher answered just as well—why didn't the Buddha praise him? What does that other one have that deserves such praise!"

The Buddha, hearing through the divine ear, rebuked them sternly, then spoke this verse: "Though one recites the sutras fluently but is lazy in practice, he is like a cowherd counting others' cows, unworthy of the samana life. Though one recites little but diligently practices, letting go of greed, hatred and delusion, with a mind radiant and liberated, clinging to nothing in this life or the next—truly worthy of the samana life."

As the verse rang out, the one devoted to study felt his hands trembling, and his prayer beads fell scattering to the ground. He realized that the thought of winning and losing had been the very rope binding him. The one devoted to practice sat quietly, his gaze gentle, without arrogance despite the praise.

From that day on, the one devoted to study no longer lived only within the scriptures. He began to sit in meditation every morning, even when his legs ached, even when his mind was restless. He told his disciples:

"I have understood wrongly. To study without practicing is like a cowherd counting other people's cows. From now on, we shall practice together."

The years passed, and both dwelled at peace in the teachings. The one devoted to practice continued guiding meditation, while the other combined study with practice, and his disciples grew ever more devoted. The bell of Jetavana still rang out each morning, reminding all that empty words are no match for a single step of practice.

The Meaning of the Story

This story shows that studying theory without practicing makes one unworthy of the monastic life, like a cowherd who only counts other people's cows. Only through diligent practice, letting go of greed, hatred and delusion, does one truly attain liberation and prove worthy of being a samana.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.