The Two Thieves and the Verse About the Fool Who Knows He Is a Fool

The sun had just slipped through the leaves of the Jetavana monastery garden, and birdsong drifted from branch to branch, mingling with the gentle fragrance of lotus flowers. In the wide stone courtyard, hundreds of lay Buddhists sat with folded hands, backs straight, eyes turned toward the dais where the Buddha was teaching the Dharma. The air was so still that even a falling leaf could be heard. Yet among that crowd were two men who had not come to study. They stood deep in the far corner, shoulders pressed together, eyes glancing around at the pockets of those nearby. Cold sweat beaded along the bridge of the fat thief's nose. He let out a very soft sigh, drew his hand back into his robe, and waited for his chance.

"Keep watch carefully," the thin thief whispered, his eyes narrowing into a sly smile. "When they're absorbed in listening to the Dharma, I'll slide my hand into their pockets nice and easy, and then we slip away."

The two were friends who had slipped into the assembly pretending to listen, only to pick pockets. For many months now, whenever the Buddha taught, crowds would gather, and this was how they made their living. Their thinking was simple: while people were absorbed in listening, distracted from their purses, a gentle pull of the hand was all it took.

The reason was that for a long time, these two thieves had lived by taking money from other people's pockets into their own, without ever expending honest effort. They spent their days watching, waiting, tense and deceitful. They earned plenty of money, but their hearts were always knotted with fear of being caught, knowing they were doing wrong by others.

Yet when the Buddha began to teach, something strange happened. The thin thief, who had been about to slide his hand into the pocket of the old man beside him, suddenly froze. The Buddha's gentle voice poured into his ears like cool water: "The greedy and deceitful person, whose heart is never at peace, creates that suffering himself." He listened, and forgot the pocket beside him. He just sat there listening, listening, eyes wide open. A moment later, he suddenly awoke. His hand trembled and his heart clenched. He saw that all his life he had lived wanting to take other people's possessions with the least effort, always deceitful, always watching, always tense. It was greed and deceit that made the heart restless and brought endless suffering. He saw the injustice he had created: taking people's money without giving anything worthy in return, causing them pain.

"What are you staring at like that? I've already got a haul. Let's go!" the fat thief tugged at his shoulder, his voice gleeful.

The thin thief shook his head, his face dreamy as if floating on clouds, all the glee gone from it. He whispered, "I'm not taking anything. I've seen my own faults. We've been living so wrongly."

"Are you really that stupid? A chance to pick pockets and you won't take it. They're all absorbed in listening, so easy to rob—why won't you?" the fat one snapped, eyes bulging.

He only shook his head and said nothing. He knew that whatever he said now, his friend would not understand. On the way home, their two hearts could not have been more different. The fat one patted his belly and laughed: "We hit the jackpot today. They were so absorbed in the Dharma they never felt a thing. Your wife will be so pleased!" When he got home, his wife cried out with joy. But when the thin one's wife asked, "Did you get anything?" he shook his head, his face lost in strange thought. "Why didn't you take anything when it was so easy?" she asked. He sighed: "I was a fool in how I thought. I've seen the wrongs of my past. I'm leaving this trade."

Here is the turning point: the thin thief had grasped the truth, while his friend went on laughing and mocking. From this moment, their paths diverged.

Afterward, the thin thief brought his wife and children to the Jetavana monastery to see the Buddha, took refuge, and told the whole story. The Buddha smiled, then recited this verse: "The fool who knows he is a fool is, for that very reason, wise. The fool who thinks himself wise is, for that very reason, a greater fool." The thin thief closed his eyes, tears streaming down his face, and bowed until his forehead touched the earth.

From that day on, he stole no more. His family lived in gentleness and harmony, regularly coming to hear the Dharma and helping others. The fat one, meanwhile, continued his old trade, always mocking his former friend as a weak, spineless man. The years rolled by, and he remained a thief, tense and watchful, never escaping the cycle of greed and deceit.

The Meaning of the Story

In the Buddha's teachings, foolishness and wisdom refer to moral character: a person of virtue is a person of wisdom, and a person lacking virtue is a fool. A fool who knows he is a fool, who recognizes the greed and deceit of his past, thereby becomes wise. But a fool who believes himself wise, who remains sunk in deception and delights in mocking others, only becomes more foolish. Recognizing one's own faults is a long step forward on the path of practice.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang