[Mahasi] [Ledi] [Other] [Pesala] [Suttas]

Venerable Mahāsi Sayādaw

A Discourse on the Hemavata Sutta

Is the Buddha Impartial?

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“Friend Sātāgiri, can your teacher keep his mind well disposed? Is your teacher well disposed to all beings without any discrimination? Friend Sātāgiri, in this world many claim to be Buddhas. May I ask you if your Buddha is impartial to his disciples and those of others? Can he keep his mind well disposed towards all living beings? Does he have loving-kindness (mettā) towards all, and wish them well-being and happiness? Does he have equal kindness and compassion (karunā) for all?”

This was a pertinent question because some who claimed to be Buddhas were partial — extending loving-kindness and compassion only to those who followed them and worshipped them. They said that they would save only those who adored and followed them, and those who did not would be relegated to hell. Such claimants to Buddhahood should not be regarded as real Buddhas for a true Buddha would be well disposed towards all living beings.

Hemavata continued: “Friend, can your Buddha control his mind and remain equanimous to what is pleasant and to what is unpleasant?”

In this world, people are pleased when they meet pleasant things, and enjoy them. When they meet unpleasant things they are displeased, angry, and disappointed, and show their anger. They follow their emotions and cannot control their minds. However, a true Buddha’s mind is always under control, so Hemavata’s question is important.

Ordinary people let their minds follow their sensations and emotions. They smile if anything evokes a smile, and curl their lips if a thing invites contempt. They laugh when amused and weep when they are sad. At first, they resist going to improper places, but when temptation becomes too strong, they go. Similarly, they say and do improper things after a short period of restraint. This is called “letting one’s mind follow the sensations and emotions.”

Let alone others, some meditators get disappointed because they cannot make progress, and give up. When they are making preparations to leave, their mentors have to urge them to stay. When they are thus coaxed to resume meditation, they make progress and are pleased. Yet some cannot be persuaded, and go home. That is another instance of allowing the mind to follow the sensations. Instances could be cited of meditators attaining the knowledge of disgust (nibbida-ñāna), who became disappointed because they found things wearisome, and went home. If such meditators had continued with their work, they would have attained full insight, but they could not control their minds and gave up. What a loss! However, most of the meditators listened to the admonitions of their meditation instructors and managed to control their minds.

In secular life too, there are many things over which one could control one’s mind. The Buddha’s message was for the control of one’s mind. Those who have practised meditation can control their minds to a considerable extent. However, those who have not are outside the Dhamma’s influence. Since they are without a sense of shame (hirī) or fear (ottappa), they do or say whatever they like. Hemavata therefore asked his friend if the Buddha was one who could control his mind. That is quite a relevant question.

A Searching Question

Putting searching questions is important. A certain Sayādaw told me that he was once questioned by an American visitor at an alms-giving in a house. The questions were incisive and searching, and the Sayādaw said that it was quite an ordeal to be questioned like that. Yet he was well-known as a conversationalist. The visitor asked the Sayādaw how long he had practised the Dhamma and what perceptions (ārammana) he had had. The Sayādaw said that such questions were embarrassing. Yet to me such questions were justified because an intelligent inquirer into the Dhamma would put such searching questions to the one who ought to know. To a seventy-year-old monk who had a reputation for deep learning, the enquirer should put such searching questions regarding personal experiences in the practice of meditation. It is important to be able to make bold and definitive replies to such questions and not to be embarrassed.

Hemavata was no ordinary individual. During the time of Kassapa Buddha, he was a venerable monk teaching five hundred disciples. That is why he asked questions about the attributes of the Buddha. Sātāgiri was also a venerable monk then, who had entered the Holy Order with Hemavata and, like him, had taught five hundred disciples.

The Buddha is Perfectly Equanimous

To the questions put by Hemavata, Sātāgiri gave a precise answer:

“Friend Hemavata, our teacher, the Buddha, looks upon all beings with equanimity. He has full control of his mental disposition towards pleasant and unpleasant sensations.”

This was Sātāgiri’s answer. He implied that the Buddha’s disposition towards beings was based on the principle of equality, whether they adored him or not. His close disciples were those who had gained enlightenment on hearing his first discourse, and ordinary disciples who were only within the fold of his dispensation. Of course, some were outside the Buddha’s dispensation, and followers of Māra (the evil one) were actively opposed to the Buddha. “Our teacher, the Buddha, is equally disposed to all beings with no discrimination, radiating his loving-kindness and compassion to all,” said Sātāgiri.

That was at the beginning of the Buddha’s dispensation. Later, the Buddha would be equally well disposed to his devout followers who provided the four essential requisites, and to the brahmins and heretics who were opposed to him. The Buddha adopted the same attitude towards his arch-enemy, Devadatta, as towards his own son, Rāhula, having regard for both of them as beings. The Buddha did not act partially towards anyone; he radiated his loving-kindness and compassion to all beings alike.

So Sātāgiri replied, “Our teacher, the Buddha, has the attribute of absolute impartiality towards all beings in all realms of existence.”

The Buddha is Very Adorable

When one considers the partiality of people towards friends and family, and their prejudice against their enemies, one cannot fail to be full of adoration for the Buddha. Partiality is manifest in every sphere of human activity. To those they favour, people give all the help they can, making concessions and giving blessings. However, they have no desire to help those who oppose them. They render help grudgingly if asked to help complete strangers. Genuine impartiality is extremely rare. Let alone outsiders, people cannot even maintain perfect impartiality towards every member of their own family.

Let alone ordinary human beings, even those who are worshipped as gods in other religions are seldom impartial. These gods say, in effect, “I will save only my own followers and relegate the others to hell.” Compared with such gods the Buddha is most adorable.

The Buddha wished all beings to be happy just as he wished for his son, Rāhula; he wanted all beings to attain nibbāna just as he wanted Rāhula to attain nibbāna; he had the same compassion and sympathy for all beings that he had for Rāhula. To be truly impartial is very difficult, but when the Buddha radiated great compassion, he did so to all beings in all realms of existence.

The Arising of Great Compassion

According to the ‘Path of Discrimination’ (Patisambhidāmagga), because the Buddha perceived the successive miseries of old age, disease, and death in all beings, great compassion (mahākarunā) arose his mind. Surveying entire realms of existence, he perceived the pitiable condition of beings, so great compassion arose in his mind. It is like a kind man taking pity on persons in great distress. The compassion of the ordinary person is not very deep, but the compassion of the Buddha was extremely profound, and unlimited. The Buddha took pity on human beings for their present state of distress, and perceiving that in the next existence some would be reborn in the realms of misery: hell, the animal realm (tiracchāna), demons (asura), or hungry ghosts (petas), his compassion was even greater. Perceiving that all beings would suffer from old age, disease, and death in every future existence, the Buddha took pity on them all. Consider this human existence. From early childhood one has to study to learn as much as one can. On reaching maturity, one is obliged to take up a profession. One works until one is old and decrepit. Then one suffers from many kinds of diseases. Finally, unable to get the diseases cured, one has to die. People are usually oblivious to the inexorable deterioration of their bodies. With the onset of some terminal disease, when nothing can be done to cure it, death awaits. Only then do they perceive the tragedy of life. The relatives of a dying person do their best to allay the suffering, but nothing can be done. Surrounded by weeping relatives, he or she passes away. For a few months or years the relatives remember the deceased, and feel sad, but gradually they forget. That, in brief, is the life of a human being, which is just one drop in the vast ocean of samsāra.

The same pattern applies to the next existence — the gradual deterioration of the body, the onset of old age and disease, and eventually death. The Buddha perceived this clearly. He surveyed millions of ailing and dying beings, and, seeing the sorrow of those near and dear to them, great compassion arose in him. ‘Millions’ is the current term, but the true number is uncountable. If the history of one being’s existences could be illustrated, the pictures would fill the entire surface of the earth and yet more space would be needed. The birth, old age, disease, and death of beings, were perceived by the Buddha who felt great pity for them; that was how great compassion arose in him.

Thus, we learn, “Impermanence drives human beings to old age, disease, and death.” The Buddha foresaw that unless he could motivate living beings to follow his teachings and gain salvation, they would remain trapped in samsāra, and would suffer in the realms of misery. So the Buddha felt great pity for all beings in all realms of existence just as he felt for his own son, Rāhula. Thus Sātāgiri said, in reply to Hemavata’s first query; “All sentient beings in all the realms of existence are helpless; they have no one to depend on for protection and support. So the Buddha has great compassion for all beings.”

One can depend on other people for protection and support. Parents protect their children, and children support their parents in old age. Teachers look after their disciples, disciples serve their teachers, and relatives offer mutual help and support. However, such help and support are just temporary. Real help and support cannot be provided by others. For instance, children cannot prevent their parents from getting old. Parents cannot ensure that their children remain young. Children cannot accept and share with their siblings the advancing years of their parents. Nor can anyone remove and distribute the sickness of a patient to give them some relief. Of course, doctors and surgeons can usually alleviate suffering to some extent, but for many diseases they can do nothing effective. They cannot avert impending death, nor can the relatives or intimate friends of a dying person do anything to avert their death. All they can do is look on with compassion. People have all died in this way. No protection or support can help another to gain freedom from old age, disease, and death. No one can save another from going to the realms of misery after death if their kamma is bad.

Only the Buddha could save beings from these afflictions by guiding them onto the right path by his teachings and making them practise according to the Dhamma. This is how a doctor treats a patient — by prescribing appropriate medicine, and by proscribing detrimental food and harmful activities. There is no way of performing miracles by demanding, “May you be cured.” If the patient does not follow the physician’s directions, the disease will not be cured. Similarly, the Buddha only pointed out the correct path and gave directions. Those who follow his instructions can save themselves from old age, disease, and death, and gain liberation from samsāra.

A Buddha arises only after a lapse of many aeons (kappa), and each Buddha lives only for a limited period according to the normal life expectancy in that particular era. To hear the discourses of a Buddha is therefore an extremely rare opportunity. Though the Buddha is no longer alive, one can still hear discourses on his teachings delivered by learned and saintly teachers. Then one can follow the instructions contained in them to save oneself from further suffering in samsāra. However, such rare opportunities cannot be obtained in every era. Besides, many wrong beliefs are prevalent in the world, so one may adopt the wrong path. This is a grave danger, because one would then be striving for wrong aims. Then one would be dragged deeper and deeper into the whirlpool of existence. The Buddha felt great pity for all beings, whatever beliefs they held. His compassion was even greater, realising that so many beings in the various realms of existence were following wrong paths.

Wrong Beliefs Are Most Deplorable

One with wrong belief is really more pitiable than others because although he is seeking the path to happiness and well-being, he is following a path that leads to greater adversity the more he strives. Followers of the Buddha should not be complacent about having found the right path. They should work to attain at least the first stage of liberation, for only then will they be sure of being saved from adversity. In the next existence they will not have the same parents and teachers. They may be reborn with parents holding other beliefs. Then they will probably follow the wrong path. For that reason, the Buddha took great pity on beings who have no one to save them from the onset of old age, disease, and death, or from hell and misguided beliefs. His compassion was the same for all beings, with no discrimination.

King Korabya and Venerable Ratthapāla’s Dialogue

In this world, kings have large armies to protect themselves, and it may be said that they can place their reliance on them in worldly affairs. However, such kings too, have to become old in due course, and no army could protect them from old age, disease, and death when such tribulations assail them. Venerable Ratthapāla was an Arahant in the time of the Buddha. He was the son of a rich man, and a friend of King Korabya. One day, the king asked the venerable Ratthapāla why he had become a monk.

Venerable Ratthapāla replied that he had become a monk after he had heard the Buddha’s discourse relating to the helplessness of all beings from the tribulations of old age, disease, and death.

The king did not understand what helplessness meant. He said that as a king, he had large armies to protect him from all harm, and that he did not understand what was meant by helplessness.

Then Venerable Ratthapāla said, “O king, did you ever suffer from any serious illness?”

The king replied, “Yes venerable sir, I did.”

Then Venerable Ratthapāla asked him if he could seek relief from that illness by asking his relatives to share the suffering with him.

“That is impossible. I had to suffer alone,” the king replied.

 Venerable Ratthapāla then said, “That is precisely what the Buddha meant when he said that all beings are without anyone to help them, or anyone on whom they could depend for protection and support.”1

So even if one has many people to help and protect oneself in worldly matters, one is helpless in the face of old age, disease, and death. The scriptures say that no property can be called one’s own because one has to leave everything when one dies, and take rebirth in a new existence. The Buddha realised this fact and so his compassion for all beings was great. In other words, great compassion arose in the mind of the Buddha.

People have what they call their personal and private property such as gold, silver, food, cattle, vehicles, etc., but when they die they have to leave all these things behind, and the body too. Death may come today or tomorrow to anybody, so we cannot say that the time for such separation is far off. Even while one is alive, these worldly things can be taken away by force, so they are not really one’s own possessions.

One’s real possessions comprise meritorious deeds, such as giving alms, observing precepts, and practising meditation. These cannot be taken away, whether by stealth or by force, and they are taken from one existence to another. Individuals who are rich in meritorious deeds will obtain well-being in future existences. It is therefore essential to accumulate merit by giving alms (dāna), observing morality, and practising mental culture (bhāvanā) to cultivate insight, the last two being the most important. You should strive to do these even if it is just for one or two days, for such deeds are very valuable and can be done without incurring any expense.

Those who have done meritorious deeds have something to rely on at the time of death. At the door of death one could die peacefully by practising meditation until the last breath, after which one would surely attain the celestial realms. So you should assiduously perform these three meritorious deeds — generosity, morality, and mental culture.

Your property is not really your own, you have to leave it to those who survive you after your death. If you are attached to it, you will probably become a hungry ghost, or another being in the lower realms, suffering extreme misery. The Buddha perceived the helplessness of all beings and felt great compassion for them.

The Buddha also saw that beings were assailed by insatiable desire for worldly things, and were slaves to lust and greed. For this reason too, his compassion for them was great. He saw that all beings were obsessed with craving (tanhā); that they hankered after desirable and pleasant things to satisfy their six senses; that they were never satisfied with long life and fame that they might be fortunate enough to obtain; that they were never content with all the best endowments that life could offer them. Their desires multiply inexorably, and dominate all aspects of their lives, so they are never satiated. In some countries many multi-millionaires have more money than they can ever spend. However, their desires have no limits, and they are never satisfied. Kings have never stopped their imperialistic plans; they always want more countries under their dominion.

It is said that devas are even more greedy. Powerful devas usually have five hundred or a thousand celestial maidens in their harems, but they never have enough. They enjoy all the delights and pleasures of celestial life, and yet they want more. So Sakka, the king of the gods, likened them to hungry ghosts who are always starving because they do not have enough to eat. The Buddha realised that all beings were slaves to craving and greed, and that moved him to great compassion.

It is true that beings are the slaves of craving and greed. Craving and greed urges them to search the things they want, and they risk their lives to get them. They have to work daily for the whole life to serve their desires. In the next existence, too, they remain slaves of the same master. There is no respite for them.

An ordinary slave may remain a slave only during one lifetime, but a slave of craving has an unending term of servitude until attaining arahantship — thus escaping from samsāra. Ignorance (avijjā) colours all things, concealing their defects, and craving makes them seem delightful, urging beings to strive to get them. They strive all their lives, but are never satisfied with what they get. Since they are never satiated, they are always frustrated or disappointed. Realising this, the Buddha felt great compassion for all beings in every realm of existence.

“Unsatiated, all beings are slaves of craving.”
“Men are driven to old age, disease, and death.”
“Beings are so weak and helpless.”
“They have no genuine personal property,
and whatever they have, has to be abandoned.”

These are the four points in the dialogue between Venerable Ratthapāla and King Korabya. The venerable monk said that the Buddha saw this deplorable plight of all beings, and so was moved to great compassion. The Buddha saw that there was no one except him who could save them.

Thus Sātāgiri said that the Buddha’s great compassion was without partiality or discrimination. “Besides, our teacher, the Buddha, can bear with equanimity all desirable and undesirable sensations,” continued Sātāgiri. It was a reply to Hemavata’s question whether the Buddha could restrain his pleasure when in contact with pleasant things and his displeasure at unpleasant things, unlike other beings who are moved and swayed by sensations of all kinds. This was a pertinent question, and the answer was apt.

Nowadays, if someone asks an unreligious friend to attend a discourse by one’s revered teacher, such a person is likely to retort, “What can your teacher do? Is he adept in astrology, or can he do some chanting to enable me to prosper? Can he reconcile a separated couple, or recover lost property? Can he help me to gain promotion?”

Such questions are quite impertinent. This is not just a hypothetical example; I have heard of several instances like this. Questions like these are only asked by ignorant, irreverent persons.

A Shrewd Question

Hemavata’s question in this context was most pertinent and shrewd. At the time of the Buddha, many claimed to be Buddhas. Prominent among those pretenders were Purāna Kassapa, Makkhali Gosāla, Ajita Kesakambalī, Pakudha Kaccāyana, Nigantha Nātaputta, and Sañjaya Belatthaputta. These six each had their own respective followers who believed in their divinations of the past, present, and future. Their followings were quite large.

Hemavata, however, knew that these so-called great teachers were not able to view pleasant and unpleasant things with equanimity. He wanted to know if his friend’s teacher was truly equanimous, so he asked, “Friend Sātāgiri, can your Buddha control his mind and remain neutral to pleasant and unpleasant things?”

Sātāgiri gave him a categorical answer. The Buddha could view these things with mindful indifference, that is, rejecting both the pleasant and unpleasant with evenmindedness, over which he had full control. However beautiful and lovely a thing was, the Buddha could view it to realise that it was, after all, undesirable. He could look at the beautiful lady Māgandhi and perceive that her body was composed of thirty-two repulsive components, and therefore remain unaffected. In the same way, in looking at the three beautiful daughters of Māra, he could regard them as merely a heap of loathsome physical elements.

Not only the Buddha, but all the Arahants could view things in the same manner, keeping their minds fully under control. Even those who are not Arahants can view physical elements in the same realistic way if they practised meditation on impurity (asubhakammatthāna). Once, in Sri Lanka, the great elder Venerable Mahātissa of Cetiya mountain looked at a laughing woman on his almsround and saw the repulsiveness of the physical elements. He thus gained absorption, and via that stage reached arahantship. Meditators who have reached the stage of knowledge of dissolution (bhanga-ñāna) can view things in their true nature of incessant decay and thus as unpleasant and undesirable.

The Buddha’s Equanimity

The Buddha transformed repugnant beings into lovable ones by means of his loving-kindness. He viewed such beings with compassion so that they became as lovable and deserving of compassion as his own son, Rāhula. Thus he was unaffected by unpleasant and undesirable elements in their appearance. The Buddha viewed Devadatta, who tried to kill him by rolling a rock down onto him from Vulture’s Peak, as kindly and as lovingly as he viewed Rāhula. He had the same goodwill for Devadatta as he had for his own son, thus he could turn the unpleasant into the pleasant.

Since he could view unpleasant things as pleasant, the Buddha picked up the sari from the dead body of Punnā the slave woman, and wore it as a robe without any feeling of disgust. For the same reason he ate without disgust the cake from the folds of Queen Mallikā’s skirt, and the leavings of a meal eaten by a brahmin named Pañcaggadāyaka.

Mahākassapa and A Leper

 The Great Elder Mahākassapa was also free from feelings of disgust. Once, the Venerable Mahākassapa stood for almsfood at the place where a leper was eating his meal. He did so to enable the leper to gain merit, which would result in his prosperity and happiness in the next existence. The leper was so full of good volition for giving alms that he put the remainder of the food he had been eating into the almsbowl of the venerable monk. In doing so, the leper unwittingly dropped one of his disease-ridden fingers into the bowl. The great Arahant knew of this, but he did not remove the finger, and ate the meal1  without any feeling of disgust.

This illustrates how to view an unpleasant thing as no different to a pleasant thing in respect of the elements that comprise it. All the Arahants could view things in this manner, not to speak of the Buddha.

The Buddha could also view the unpleasant without concern. It is important to be detached regarding the ailments occurring in one’s body. The Buddha felt pain because he was struck in the foot by a splinter from the rock that Devadatta had rolled down from the mountain, but he viewed the pain with unconcern. Also, during the last year of his life, the Buddha suffered from a serious illness, but he viewed the physical ailment with perfect equanimity. Not only the Buddha, but the Arahants too could view pleasantness and unpleasantness with equanimity.

Meditators who have reached the stage of equanimity towards formations (sankhārupekkhā- ñāna) can ignore pleasant and unpleasant feelings simply by noting the cognition, then dismissing it immediately. Such meditators may be said to have temporarily gained, at least in part, the attributes of an Arahant. Those who have attained this stage should be encouraged by this.

Wrong thoughts (micchā sankappa) are of three kinds:

1. Thoughts of sensuality (kāma sankappa),
2. Thoughts of ill-will (byāpāda sankappa),
3. Thoughts of cruelty (vihimsa sankappa).

These three evil intentions must be dismissed from one’s mind. Right thoughts (sammā sankappa) are also of three kinds:

1. Thoughts of renunciation (nekkhamma sankappa),
2. Thoughts of loving-kindness (abyāpāda sankappa),
3. Thoughts of non-cruelty (avihimsa sankappa).

These are the three good intentions that must be cultivated. Worldly people crave for pleasant things, and wish for unpleasant things to be removed or destroyed.

However, such unwholesome thoughts were absent from the Buddha’s mind. His mind was pervaded with wholesome thoughts. He had no craving for pleasant things, and no aversion to unpleasant things. Only spontaneous thoughts of kindness and goodwill for all beings arose in his mind, no matter whether they were charming or abhorrent. His mind was always clear and fully under control.

The Buddha could control his mind by entering jhāna or the attainment of cessation (phala samāpatti) at will. He could maintain the same state of goodwill and loving-kindness for a moment, for the entire day, or for the entire week whenever he wished.

So Sātāgiri said: “Our teacher, the Buddha, has his mind under full control regarding the three evil intentions and the three good intentions.”

The Buddha is adorable. He did not discriminate between those who had deep reverence for him and those who were antagonistic. His loving-kindness and compassion for all beings was universal. He had good-will for all, pleasant and unpleasant alike, and was fully in control of his mind. So the Buddha is most adorable.