The Simplicity of the Monk of the Outskirts

The gentle morning sun shone down on a peaceful outlying town, where a small village lay just outside the capital of Savatthi. There lived a monk named Nigamavasi, who came from a well-to-do family. Unlike many other monks who walked deep into the bustling city center to seek alms, Nigamavasi chose a simpler way of living. Each morning, he carried only his bowl and walked a few hundred meters beyond the gate of the monastery, to the homes of familiar families in the area.

In less than half an hour, his bowl was already full of fine food, more than enough for his midday meal. He would return, eat his meal in silence, and then continue his practice. This did not escape the notice of the other monks in the Sangha. In the common room, whispers began to spread.

"He has left the household life, so why is he still attached to his family?" one young monk murmured to his companion, his eyes showing contempt. "He keeps lingering at the homes of his wealthy relatives, relying on them for good food. He refuses to go far, refuses austerities like the rest of us. His mind must still be full of attachments."

These slanderous words gradually spread, until they reached the ears of the Buddha. One day, when the Sangha had gathered, the Buddha called Nigamavasi before everyone. The atmosphere grew tense, and the other monks held their breath, waiting to see how their fellow monk would be reprimanded.

"Nigamavasi," the Buddha's voice was deep and warm yet solemn, "the Tathagata has heard that although you have gone forth, you remain attached to your relatives, unwilling to travel far, lingering in this town to enjoy fine food. Is this true?"

The monk Nigamavasi knelt down, pressed his palms together respectfully, and answered in a calm and sincere voice:

"Venerable World-Honored One, I am one who lives simply and frugally. I seek nothing. I stay there because I feel no need to go far. Moreover, according to the monastic rules, once the bowl is full, one must not ask for more. I walk out a few steps, and people fill my bowl with offerings—so what am I to do? Should I force myself to walk from the outskirts all the way into the capital of Savatthi to beg for more, then bring it back to fill my cupboard? My life is very simple; I do not need much."

The Buddha smiled, his eyes radiating satisfaction. He turned to look at the monks standing around, and then declared:

"Excellent! Nigamavasi is truly a disciple worthy of me. He lives as I live, with few desires and knowing contentment. This is precisely the path that leads to liberation."

To reinforce his praise, the Buddha told a story of a former life. Long ago, when he was a bodhisattva, he was reborn as a parrot perched on a lush, leafy branch. Sakka, lord of the devas, wishing to test the parrot's disposition, used a fierce wind to break that branch. But the parrot did not waver. It calmly flew to perch on a bare branch, remaining at ease, without complaint, and without seeking a better place elsewhere. The Buddha concluded that Nigamavasi's simplicity and independence from external circumstances were the mark of a future noble one.

The slanderous words immediately ceased. The other monks bowed their heads in shame, realizing that they had rushed to judge another based on their own subjective assumptions, rather than seeing the pure nature of their fellow monk's heart and his strict observance of the precepts.

The Meaning of the Story

This story teaches us not to rush to condemn or judge others based on appearances or personal speculation. A simple life, contentment, and observance of the precepts are an important foundation for one who practices. When we readily assign bad intentions to others, we create karma of speech and disturb the harmony of the Sangha. Conversely, mutual respect and seeing one another rightly make the environment of practice peaceful and stable, supporting the spiritual progress of everyone.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thich Chan Quang.