The White Cloth

One afternoon at the monastery, the air was hot and stifling. Cicadas droned in the mango trees, mingling with the steady chanting of sutras from the study rooms. In a corner of the courtyard, a young monk sat huddled, his shoulders shaking with sobs. This was Venerable Cudapanthaka. His eyes were red, and his hand clutched the hem of his worn yellow robe. Behind the heavy wooden gate that had just closed, the footsteps of the brothers still echoed, carrying whispers that were far from kind.

Venerable Cudapanthaka came from a wealthy family. His mother was a young noblewoman who had left home to follow a poor servant, and only later brought her son back to visit his grandfather. The grandfather was a disciple of the Buddha, and often came to the monastery to hear the dharma talk, and the two grandchildren followed along. The elder brother, Maha Panthaka, ordained first and had already attained Arhatship. Seeing his brother's success, the younger brother also resolved to ordain, but karma from the past caused him to forget everything he studied, making him a burden to the entire Sangha.

In the Sangha, everyone had to practice in unison. After the Buddha taught the Dharma, the elders would recall it, explain it, and condense it into short verses so the disciples could easily memorize and progress in their practice. But Venerable Cudapanthaka was different. Every time he tried to repeat a verse, he forgot it completely. The brothers had to sit and repeat it to him over and over, yet he still could not remember. As time passed, everyone's patience slowly ran out.

One day, an Arhat monk, also a brother in the Sangha, could bear it no longer. He walked up to Cudapanthaka and said sternly:

"You are not worthy to be a monk. Go home. And you have nowhere to go home to, because with such a poor mind for learning, you could not survive out there either. Nor can you be a proper monk."

Venerable Cudapanthaka was stunned, his heart tightening. He loved the Dharma deeply and had a strong heart for practice, yet now he was being cast out with nothing to hold on to. He walked out beyond the monastery gate and stood in the afternoon sun, tears streaming down his cheeks. The feeling of humiliation and abandonment reached its peak. He loved the Buddha's teachings (Dharma), but he could not stay. And the world he had turned his back on offered no one to lean on.

Just then, the Buddha was returning from his alms round and saw him standing outside the gate, weeping. The Buddha asked:

"Cudapanthaka, why are you standing here?"

He bowed his head, voice choked with sobs:

"Venerable Sir, my brother has driven me out and will not let me practice anymore."

The Buddha smiled and said:

"Then did you ordain with me, or with your brother?"

He answered:

"I ordained with you, Venerable Sir."

The Buddha said:

"I have not expelled you, have I? Now, take this cloth."

The Buddha extended his hand and produced a pure white cloth. He said:

"Sit under that tree over there, and contemplate this cloth."

Venerable Cudapanthaka took the cloth, sat down at the foot of the mango tree, and began rubbing the cloth back and forth. By miraculous power, the cloth slowly began to change. From white, it turned yellow, then wrinkled and grew old and worn. Through direct insight, he understood that everything in this world changes, that all is impermanence (anicca). He contemplated this for a while, and then entered deep meditative concentration.

When the Buddha returned from his alms round, Venerable Cudapanthaka had already attained Arhatship. The next morning, he manifested, multiplying himself into a thousand figures seated in the mango grove, astonishing everyone.

But the story did not end there. Some monks began to gossip. They said:

"Venerable Maha Panthaka, the elder brother, is said to have attained Arhatship and yet still had hatred. He drove out his own brother and would not let him practice. He still had anger, still had rage, still had resentment. That is not compassion."

The Buddha overheard this, and not wanting them to speak wrongly, walked by and asked:

"What are you all talking about?"

The monks knelt with palms joined and said:

"Venerable Sir, we were speaking of Venerable Cudapanthaka. He attained Arhatship even though he was once so slow to learn, but if you had not rescued him in time, we would have lost an Arhat. As for the elder brother, we hear that although he attained Arhatship, he behaved cruelly, driving his brother away."

The Buddha shook his head and said:

"Not at all. You do not understand. As for Maha Panthaka, he no longer has any hatred, just as a mustard seed can never rest on the point of a needle. Who could place a tiny mustard seed on the tip of a needle without it falling? In the same way, in Maha Panthaka's heart, not a trace of greed, hatred and delusion could cling."

Thanks to the Buddha's words, all the whispers dissolved. In truth, however, Maha Panthaka had used harsh conduct to liberate his brother. He knew that Cudapanthaka needed one final humiliation to repay his karma from the past. For in lifetimes before, he had made others feel ashamed and embarrassed. Now, who would dare to scold him? Only his Arhat brother would dare. He drove him out with harsh words so that Cudapanthaka could repay the last of his karma. Only when the karma was exhausted did the Buddha liberate him.

The Buddha also explained that in guiding others, there is gentle conduct and harsh conduct. Gentle conduct means speaking sweetly and encouraging people in their practice. Harsh conduct means being strict, scolding, making people feel awe and fear so that they apply themselves to practice. Both are necessary, depending on the capacities of sentient beings. Just as society needs social workers and teachers, it also needs prisons, police, batons and guns to restrain criminals.

Venerable Cudapanthaka, once a brilliant person who remembered whatever he learned, had created great merit sufficient to attain Arhatship. But because in a past life he had loved to criticize others, in this life he had to repay that karma: slow to learn, driven out, humiliated to the utmost. When the karma was exhausted, he attained realization. This story reminds us: when we hold an advantage, do not be quick to criticize others. For whenever we criticize someone, we will one day fall into that very situation. If we see ourselves as beautiful and mock others as ugly, there will come a time when we are ugly. If we see ourselves as rich and look down on the poor, there will come a time when we are poor.

So it is in our lives as well. Often when we see the poor, the slow, or the sinful, we give rise to a heart of contempt. But that heart will cause us to be reborn as exactly those people, so that we may understand deeply. Conversely, if we give rise to a heart of pity and compassion, wishing for them to be free from suffering (dukkha), then all of society will rise above. Remember: one who has abandoned greed, hatred and delusion, who is not proud, not envious, like a mustard seed on the point of a needle — such a one we call a Brahmin.

The meaning of the story

The story of Venerable Cudapanthaka shows the power of habit and karma from the past. Even though one has created great merit, a few small words of criticism are enough to create heavy karma, making us pay for it with suffering (dukkha) in a later life. Yet when the karma is exhausted, we can still attain realization. The lesson is: never look down on anyone, for we will fall into their circumstances. Give rise to a heart of compassion and offer help, so that society has fewer calamities and we create less bad karma. At the same time, in guiding others, both gentle conduct and harsh conduct are needed, applied according to each being's capacity to lead sentient beings forward.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.