Six Monks and the Gentle Verse of the Buddha

The evening wind whistled through the cracks of a newly built monastery dwelling in an unfamiliar land. The sharp scent of fresh-cut wood mingled with the sultry heat of an early-season afternoon. Hurried footsteps echoed on the packed earth floor, mixed with the heavy breathing of monks who had just finished arranging their sleeping places after a long, exhausting day of travel.

"I just finished setting up my spot. I'm so tired—I was about to sleep and recover my strength."

Just then, as a few young monks breathed a sigh of relief, six monks famous for causing trouble in the Sangha—known as the group of six monks—came near. These men had been ordained for a long time and had never returned to lay life, yet wherever they went, they stirred up mischief, prompting the Buddha to establish monastic rules one by one in response to each of their antics. Now, arriving at the new dwelling, while everyone else sought a proper place, the six of them wanted to claim the best spots.

For many long months of following the Buddha, the Sangha had built this new dwelling, and everyone hoped for a decent corner to rest in after days of hardship on the road. Yet the story of the six troublemaking monks repeated itself: wherever there was a new place, they would arrive and push others out.

One young monk felt himself seized by the collar, his heart pounding, his face flushing hot, his arms flailing instinctively. He was dragged outside, receiving slaps, elbows, and knees to his ribs. Around him, the old ruffians laughed loudly.

"What are you doing? We arrived first and already set up our places!"

"Be quiet! If we like this spot, we'll stay here. We're your elders—don't you know?"

The young monk gritted his teeth, tears streaming down his face from humiliation and pain, but he could not resist six men. He covered his cheek, backing away toward the bushes, his heart blazing with anger and a helpless sense of shame.

That evening, the group of young monks gathered under a tree. Thirty of them, most around thirty years of age, hungry, with red eyes. They spoke together in low voices, tense as a stretched bowstring.

"This can't go on. If we let them keep trampling over us, we'll never be free. Tonight we'll lie in wait with wooden sticks, and when they pass by, we'll give them a beating to put an end to their aggression."

"Didn't the Buddha teach us not to strike? But if they keep stealing our places, how can we keep up our practice?"

"Forget practice—we've been humiliated enough! Tonight we act. Thirty of us—what do we have to fear from six old men?"

They took up their sticks and hid behind the thick bushes, their breath falling into rhythm with the sounds of insects. The air was taut, ready to snap, waiting only for six dim figures to approach before the sticks came down.

The Buddha heard the news and came out, his robes swaying gently in the wind. He looked upon them with kind eyes, his voice so soft that no one need feel afraid.

"My children, everyone fears punishment, everyone fears death. Taking yourself as the measure, do not kill, and do not cause others to kill. You suffer when you are struck—the six monks fear pain just as you do. Do not harm others because you yourself have been harmed."

"World-Honored One, but they struck us first…"

"You cherish yourself and do not wish to be struck—they feel the same. Understanding your own heart in this way, know that the hearts of others are the same, and so never kill anyone, never strike anyone, and never incite anyone to harm another."

He then turned to admonish the six monks, his voice still gentle:

"The same goes for you. Everyone wishes to go on living. Taking yourself as the measure, do not cause suffering to living beings."

That was the turning point: the gentle verse fell like cool water upon the fire of hatred. Thirty sticks lowered to the ground. The young monk released his grip, his shoulders sagging, realizing that his own anger was exactly the same as the aggression of the six monks.

That night, the sticks were put away in a corner of the dwelling. In the morning, the young group arranged their places along the edges, yielding the spacious corners to the six monks. One young monk came to report:

"World-Honored One, I understand now. I will not strike back, because I do not wish to be struck myself—and they feel the same."

Seeing this, the six monks became less aggressive and gradually grew accustomed to proper conduct. Later, it was precisely from their mischief that the Buddha established the two hundred and fifty precepts for monks, helping the Sangha maintain a gentle way of life. The Sangha gradually found peace, and whenever anyone arrived at a new place, they knew to use their own heart to understand others. There were no more ruffians seizing places.

The Meaning of the Story

This story shows that a troublemaker's nature lies hidden within each of us, but if we can place ourselves in another's situation—knowing that everyone fears pain and fears death—we will immediately stop harming others. The Buddha's teaching is gentle, yet it is a declaration of peace: do not kill, do not cause others to kill, for our own inner state is the living proof of the will to survive in all beings.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang