The Farmer and the Hermit

Evening sunlight fell across the rice fields, and the heavy ears of grain swayed gently in the breeze. The farmer stood at the edge of his land, running his fingers over the rice leaves, his heart full of pride. His fields stretched far into the distance, joining one another like a lush green carpet. Suddenly, he heard a commotion in the distance. He turned to look: a crowd of people was making its way toward the riverbank, where the hermit's thatched hut stood.

The hermit was a Solitarily Enlightened Buddha, living simply in a small thatched hut by the river. His virtue had spread throughout the region, drawing villagers in great numbers to come and pay their respects. But because the path was narrow, people pushed and trampled over the farmer's young rice plants. He stood watching with heartache as the rice he had tended for so many days was crushed flat. He called out, "Hey, walk carefully, or you'll trample my fields!" But the crowd kept pouring through, and no one paid attention to his words.

Day after day, his anger piled up inside him. He thought, "It's all the fault of that monk! If it weren't for him, none of this would happen!" One morning, seeing that the hermit had gone out on his alms round and the hut was empty, the farmer sneaked over to the thatched hut. He lit a fire and touched it to the bundles of dry straw around the hut. The flames caught quickly, spreading across the thatched roof, crackling and popping. He stood watching the fire consume the dwelling of a true spiritual practitioner, feeling a sense of satisfaction, completely unaware that he had just created grave karma.

When the hermit returned and found his hut reduced to ashes, he simply looked on in silence, without a single word of blame. He gathered his robes and bowl, left that land, and traveled elsewhere. When the villagers learned what had happened, they were furious. They came to the farmer's house, criticizing and cursing him. He argued back, "I only wanted to teach him a lesson!" But the crowd was too enraged. They rushed at him and beat him savagely. He collapsed, his breath fading amid the shouts of the crowd.

The farmer died in pain and resentment. His evil karma dragged him down into hell, where he endured countless torments. When his time there was complete, he was reborn as an enormous serpent, its body covered in blazing fire. The serpent lived in constant agony, with nowhere to find refuge. Whenever it crawled across any land, the flames burned its body, leaving it writhing in torment. Venerable Moggallana, with his divine eye, saw this serpent on his way back to the city of Rajagaha. He told the Buddha about it, and the Buddha confirmed, "That is the karmic result of the one who burned down the hermit's thatched hut."

The Buddha also told of another demon, with a human head and a serpent's body, likewise surrounded by flames. That was someone who had secretly stolen food that had been offered to the monastic community during the time of Buddha Kassapa. Both were suffering because of the evil karma they had created.

The story of the farmer is a great lesson about hatred. When we suffer a small harm, we often react excessively, causing great harm to others. The farmer lost only a few rice plants, yet he burned down the dwelling of a noble one, creating grave karma. The Buddha taught, "Evil karma that has been committed does not show its results immediately, but it quietly follows the fool, like smoldering embers beneath the ashes."

In life, we often encounter things that make us angry. But anger only leads us to create more evil karma. Let us learn to restrain ourselves, to practice letting go of hatred, so that we do not have to bear heartbreaking consequences like the farmer.

The Meaning of the Story

This story reminds us of the danger of hatred. When we suffer a small harm, if we do not restrain ourselves, we may cause great consequences and create grave karma. Let us practice letting go of anger, so that we avoid creating karma and can live in peace and joy.

Adapted from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.