The Short Monk and the Verse About Killing Father and Mother

The monks looked down on a small-statured monk, and the Buddha declared that this monk had "killed his father and killed his mother," leaving them horrified—before revealing the deeper meaning about the eradication of craving and ignorance.

That morning, Jetavana Monastery was as quiet as usual. The early sun filtered through the leaves, casting golden streaks across the gravel path. A group of monks returning from afar had just arrived, their yellow robes dusted with road dirt, their hearts full of joy at the prospect of seeing the World-Honored One. They walked quickly toward the fragrance hall, where the Buddha sat peacefully beneath a tree in the courtyard.

Just as they reached the gate, they came upon a monk walking out. He was remarkably short, slightly stooped in his gait, his robe hanging so loosely it nearly touched the ground, like a child lost in an adult's clothing. A few of them glanced at one another, the corners of their mouths curling slightly. No one said a word, but that fleeting thought of contempt was enough to dim the light of compassion in their hearts.

The Buddha sat there, gazing kindly at the monks approaching. He could read their thoughts as easily as reading an open sutra page. When all had been seated and paid their respects, he spoke slowly, his voice deep, warm, and clear:

"Monks, the monk who just walked out is named Bakkula-Kuntaka, commonly called 'the short one.' He has just killed his father, killed his mother, killed the two Brahmin kings, destroyed the entire kingdom along with its ministers, and now lives in perfect peace, free of worry."

The group of monks was stunned. Their faces changed, their eyes widened, their hearts pounded. "Killed his father, killed his mother? How could a monk commit such a grave wrong—and still live in peace?" They looked at one another in confusion, not understanding what was happening. One of them asked, trembling:

"World-Honored One, how can this be? Killing one's parents is a most terrible crime. How could one still live in happiness?"

The Buddha smiled, his compassionate gaze sweeping over each frightened face. He continued, his voice gentle yet penetrating:

"Monks, the father here is craving, and the mother is ignorance. These two are the roots of all suffering, dragging sentient beings through samsara (cycle of rebirth). That monk has killed the father of craving and the mother of ignorance, uprooted his afflictions (kleshas) and delusive thoughts, and so now lives in peace, free of fear. That is the meaning of the verse: 'Having killed mother and father, having killed the two Brahmin kings, having slain the guardian of the fifth, one lives without sorrow.'"

When the Buddha finished speaking, a profound silence fell. The monks awoke as if from a dream. They remembered their contemptuous glances of moments before, and overwhelming shame welled up within them. They had judged by outward appearance, forgetting that within that small frame dwelled an Arhat, one who had realized the transcendent path. Tears streamed down their faces, and remorse rose like a stream of cool water washing away the dust of the world. In that moment of sincere repentance, their hearts suddenly opened, and many in the group realized realization in that very instant.

From this story, the Buddha also taught that remorse is a virtue. One who does wrong but feels remorse can still correct oneself. But one who does wrong without remorse is like a sick person with no medicine to cure them. However, for those who have attained deep meditative concentration, remorse is no longer necessary, for they have replaced it with the resolve never to transgress again. For us, who are still ordinary beings, a heart that knows shame and remorse is among the most beautiful flowers in the garden of the mind.

The story also offers another lesson: never judge others by their appearance. Some people may look ugly and small, yet be true practitioners who have attained the path. Conversely, some may appear impressive and eloquent, treating us with warm attentiveness, yet in truth be deceivers. Therefore, always keep a humble heart and never rush to look down on anyone, for we cannot know who they truly are within.

Finally, the Buddha warned of a subtle trap: the arrogant thought that one will attain realization quickly. Hearing stories of meditation masters who achieved the path, many people think they too will soon be enlightened. But that very thought is an unwholesome state of mind that diminishes blessings from merit. Instead, one should always think that one must practice through a thousand lifetimes before attaining realization. With such humility, blessings from merit are not harmed, and one may even attain realization within this very life.

**The Meaning of the Story**

This story teaches us two great lessons. First, never look down on others by their outward appearance, for within may dwell a noble one. Second, only by eradicating craving and ignorance—the parents of all suffering—can we attain true peace. At the same time, always keep a humble heart in practice, and never assume we will attain the path quickly, for that is the root of arrogance and the loss of merit.

Compiled from a dharma talk by Venerable Thích Chân Quang