Dhammapada Verse 177
Asadisadana Vatthu

Na ve kadariya devalokam vajanti
bala have nappasamsanti danam
dhiro ca danam anumodamano
teneva so hoti sukhi parattha.

Verse 177: Indeed, misers do not go to the abode of the devas; fools do not praise charity; but the wise rejoice in charity and so gain happiness in the life hereafter.

The Story of the Unrivalled Alms-Giving

While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verse (177) of this book, with reference to the unrivalled alms-giving of King Pasenadi of Kosala.

Once, the king offered alms to the Buddha and other bhikkhus on a grand scale. His subjects, in competition with him, organized another alms-giving ceremony on a grander scale than that of the king. Thus, the king and his subjects kept on competing in giving alms. Finally, Queen Mallika thought of a plan; to implement this plan, she asked the king to have a grand pavilion built. Next, she asked for five hundred white umbrellas and five hundred tame elephants; those five hundred elephants were to hold the five hundred white umbrellas over the five hundred bhikkhus. In the middle of the pavilion, they kept ten boats which were filled with perfumes and incense. There were also two hundred and fifty princesses, who kept fanning the five hundred bhikkhus. Since the subjects of the king had no princesses, nor white umbrellas, nor elephants, they could no longer compete with the king. When all preparations were made, alms-food was offered. After the meal, the king made an offering of all the things in the pavilion, which were worth fourteen crores.

At the time, two ministers of the king were present. Of those two, the minister named Junha was very pleased and praised the king for having offered alms so generously to the Buddha and his bhikkhus. He also reflected that such offerings could only be made by a king. He was very glad because the king would share the merit of his good deeds with all beings. In short, the minister Junha rejoiced with the king in his unrivalled charity. The minister Kala, on the other hand, thought that the king was only squandering, by giving away fourteen crores in a single day, and that the bhikkhus would just go back to the monastery and sleep.

After the meal, the Buddha looked over at the audience and knew how Kala the minister was feeling. Then, he thought that if he were to deliver a lengthy discourse of appreciation, Kala would get more dissatisfied, and in consequence would have to suffer more in his next existence. So, out of compassion for Kala, the Buddha delivered only a short discourse and returned to the Jetavana monastery. The king had expected a lengthy discourse of appreciation, and so he was very sad because the Buddha had been so brief. The king wondered if he had failed to do something which should have been done, and so he went to the monastery.

On seeing the king, the Buddha said, "Great King! You should rejoice that you have succeeded in making the offering of the unrivalled charity (asadisadana). Such an opportunity comes very rarely; it comes only once during the appearance of each Buddha. But your minister Kala had felt that it was a waste, and was not at all appreciative. So, if I had given a lengthy discourse, he would get more and more dissatisfied and uncomfortable, and in consequence, he would suffer much more in the present existence as well as in the next. That was why I preached so briefly."

Then the Buddha added, "Great King! Fools do not rejoice in the charities given by others and go to the lower worlds. The wise rejoice in other people's charities and through appreciation, they share in the merit gained by others and go to the abode of the devas".

Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 177: Indeed, misers do not go to the abode of the devas; fools do not praise charity; but the wise rejoice in charity and so gain happiness in the life hereafter.
===
Dhammapada, beloved and favorite teachings of the Buddha channel:

https://invite.viber.com/?g2=AQBLD6phsgvP%2F061YjEM3K%2BNeH1Yb372b9mtfQX2EmuBpgoLUoc99BDMfzHghrme
====================

Borobudur temple, Java island, Indonesia.

Dhammapada Verse 178
Anathapindikaputtakala Vatthu

Pathabya ekarajjena
saggassa gamanena va
sabbalokadhipacce na
sotapattiphalam varam.

Verse 178: Far better than sovereignty over the earth, or far better than going to the abodes of the devas, or far better than ruling supreme over the entire universe, is (the attainment of) Sotapatti Fruition.

The Story of Kala, son of Anathapindika

While residing at the Jetavana monastery, the Buddha uttered Verse (178) of this book, with reference to Kala, son of Anathapindika, the well renowned rich man of Savatthi.

Kala, son of Anathapindika, always kept away whenever the Buddha and his company of bhikkhus came to their house. Anathapindika was afraid that if his son kept on behaving in this way, he would be reborn in one of the lower worlds (apayas). So, he enticed his son with the promise of money. He promised to give one hundred if the youth consented to go to the monastery and keep sabbath for one day. So, the youth went to the monastery and returned home early the next day, without listening to any religious discourses. His father offered him rice gruel, but instead of taking his food, he first demanded to have the money.

The next day, the father said to his son, "My son, if you learn a stanza of the Text from the Buddha I will give you one thousand on your return." So, Kala went to the monastery again, and told the Buddha that he wanted to learn something. The Buddha gave him a short stanza to learn by heart; at the same time he willed that the youth would not be able to memorize it. Thus, the youth had to repeat a single stanza many times, but because he had to repeat it so many times, in the end, he came to perceive the full meaning of the Dhamma and attained Sotapatti Fruition.

Early on the next morning, he followed the Buddha and the bhikkhus to his own house. But on that day, he was silently wishing, "I wish my father would not give me the one thousand in the presence of the Buddha. I do not wish the Buddha to know that I kept the sabbath just for the sake of money." His father offered rice gruel to the Buddha and the bhikkhus, and also to him. Then, his father brought one thousand, and told Kala to take the money but surprisingly he refused. His father pressed him to take it, but he still refused. Then, Anathapindika said to the Buddha, "Venerable Sir, my son is quite changed; he now behaves in a very pleasant manner." Then he related to the Buddha how he had enticed the youth with money to go to the monastery and keep sabbath and to learn some religious texts. To him the Buddha replied, "Anathapindika! Today, your son has attained Sotapatti Fruition, which is much better than the riches of the Universal Monarch or that of the devas or that of the brahmas."

Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:
Verse 178: Far better than sovereignty over the earth, or far better than going to the abodes of the devas, or far better than ruling supreme over the entire universe, is (the attainment of) Sotapatti Fruition.

End of Chapter Thirteen: The World (Lokavagga)
===
Ajahn Chah, Buddhist teacher of Thai forest meditation of Theravada Buddhism channel:


https://news.1rj.ru/str/ajahnchah_buddhism

====================

Free Buddha Dharma ebook

Buddhist Meditation and Forty Subjects
By Mahasi Sayadaw Gyi

At the time of the publication of this treatise in 1957, the real purpose of undertaking the meditation practice and other relevant features of Buddhist Meditation were not very well known by the public in general. The Venerable Mahasi Sayadawgyi thus, in this treatise started it with the purpose of Meditation and dwelling on the 40 subjects of Meditation and explained the practice of Vipassana Meditation in a nutshell.

Free download available:

http://www.mediafire.com/file/1m5ofld2iyk87uc/
=============

Dhammapada Verses 179 and 180
Maradhitara Vatthu

Yassa jitam navajiyati1
jitam yassa no'yati koci loke2
tam buddhamanantagocaram3
apadam4 kena padena nessatha.

Yassa jalini visattika
tanha natthi kuhinci netave
tam buddhamanantagocaram
apadam kena padena nessatha5.

Verse 179: The Buddha, whose conquest (of moral defilements) is complete, in whom there cannot arise any further defilements in this world, that Buddha of infinite range of wisdom, who is trackless, - by what track will you lead him?

Verse 180: The Buddha, in whom there is no craving, which like a net would bring him back to any existence (in samsara), that Buddha of infinite range of wisdom, who is trackless, - by what track will you lead him?

1. jitam navajiyati: 'the conquest is complete' means there is no need for further conquests as there are no more moral defilements to be conquered.

2. jitam yassa no'yati koci loke: lit., whose conquered defilements cannot be followed by any further defilements in this world.

3. anantagocaram: The range of wisdom of the Buddha is infinite by reason of his omniscience, Sabbannuta nana. (The Commentary)

4. apadam: lit., 'trackless'. The Buddha, being free from conditions of rebirth, such as craving, clinging, passion, etc., his track or passage through samsara has come to an end. (The Com.)

[The same idea is conveyed in verses 92 and 93 which express the idea that the arahat passes away, leaving no more trace of existence than a bird leaves its passage through the air.]

5. kena padena nessatha: lit., by what track will you lead him? It means he cannot be lured by any temptation whatsoever.

The Story of the Three Daughters of Mara

The Buddha first uttered Verses (179) and (180) of this book while residing near the Bodhi tree, with reference to the three daughters of Mara. He repeated these verses to the brahmin Magandiya while journeying through the Kuru country.

Magandiya the Brahmin and his wife lived in the kingdom of the Kurus with their daughter Magandiya who was exceedingly beautiful. She was so beautiful that her father rudely turned down all her suitors. One day, early in the morning, when the Buddha surveyed the world, he found that time was ripe for the brahmin Magandiya and his wife to attain Anagami Fruition. So, taking his bowl and the robes, the Buddha set out for the place where the brahmin usually went to offer fire sacrifice.

The brahmin, seeing the Buddha, promptly decided that the Buddha was the very person who was worthy of his daughter. He pleaded with the Buddha to wait there and hurriedly went off to fetch his wife and daughter. The Buddha left his footprint and went to another place, close at hand. When the brahmin and his family came, they found only the footprint. Seeing the footprint, the wife of the brahmin remarked that it was the footprint of one who was free from sensual desires. Then, the brahmin saw the Buddha and he offered his daughter in marriage to him.

The Buddha did not accept nor did he refuse the offer, but first, he related to the brahmin how the daughters of Mara tempted him soon after his attainment of Buddhahood. To the beautiful Tanha, Arati and Raga, the daughters of Mara, the Buddha had said, "It is no use tempting one who is free from craving, clinging and passion, for he cannot be lured by any temptation whatsoever."

Then the Buddha spoke in verse as follows:

Verse 179: The Buddha, whose conquest (of moral defilements) is complete, in whom there cannot arise any further defilements in this world, that Buddha of infinite range of wisdom, who is trackless, - by what track will you lead him?


Verse 180: The Buddha, in whom there is no craving, which like a net would bring him back to any existence (in samsara), that Buddha of infinite range of wisdom, who is trackless, - by what track will you lead him?

Then, the Buddha continued, "Brahmin Magandiya, even when I saw those peerless daughters of Mara, I felt no sensual desire in me. After all, what is this body of your daughter? It is full of urine and filth; I don't like to touch it even with my foot!" On hearing those words of the Buddha, both the brahmin and his wife attained Anagami Fruition. Later, they joined the Order and eventually both of them attained arahatship.
===
Free Buddhism books, teachings, podcasts and videos from Theravada, Mahayana and Vajrayana traditions:

https://news.1rj.ru/str/buddha_ebooks

====================

Lighten Up

Letting go of the difficulty of meditation
By Bhikkhu Santi


During my third of our annual winter retreats at the monastery, about a month in to the three-month span of snowy, New Hampshire silence, a question popped into my mind as I sat meditating.

Why should this be difficult?

The question had just appeared. I felt more like a witness to it than its source. As the stillness of the long, solitary days and nights of retreat sank in, I did sometimes experience my inner speech like this. The next thought, though, felt more like my own.

I mean, I’m just sitting here. With my eyes closed. Why should this be difficult?

It was a fair question. I really was just sitting there with my eyes closed. I was quite comfortable, snug in my warm little forest cabin as night fell beyond the big front window. This was all I had been doing: long periods of meditation, day after day, interspersed with walks in the frozen forest, naps, solo chanting practice, and the brief daily meal with its minimal human contact. But with our ordinary monastic duties suspended for the three months of the retreat, this sitting was all I really had to do, my main task as a monk. Just sitting quietly with eyes closed. And this was the best hour for it, as the daylight faded and evening came in. Even with my eyes closed, I sensed the mysterious, potent twilight filling the cabin.

So after all this practice, these long first years at the monastery, and in this perfect forest setting, why the boredom, the frustration, the loneliness, the sadness, the dullness, the impatience that would still well up? Why was meditation still hard?

The answer came easily. Once again, the words seemed to come to me, rather than from me.

It’s difficult because you want your mind to be otherwise than it is.

We meditate because we are dissatisfied with our minds. This may seem like an odd way of putting it. There’s a more common explanation for why we meditate that has become something of a cliché in dharma circles. When the question gets asked, “what brought you to meditation?” a one-word answer is often rolled out a bit too easily: “suffering.”

We meditate because of suffering. Well, this is true as far as it goes. We do meditate because of our suffering. We hope that meditation will bring us—or others—relief. That it will alleviate our anxiety, our stress, our disappointment, our distraction, our perplexity.

Or we may frame our motivation to meditate in positive terms: we meditate for calmness and peace, or insight and understanding. Perhaps we meditate for transcendence.

But wanting any state of mind—even the most exalted state—is inseparable from being dissatisfied with not having it in our present state. Thus, we meditate because we are dissatisfied, specifically, with our minds.

This reflects the second noble truth, which plays out in meditation as in other areas of our lives. Dukkha (suffering, dissatisfaction) arises (samudaya) with taṇhā (thirst, desire, wanting). The point of this insight isn’t that desire causes suffering, although its meaning is frequently reduced to this. It’s that wanting and suffering are bound together. Wanting, the condition of not having what one wants, focuses on some wanted thing—an object of desire. In contrast, dissatisfaction (understood as a broad category that includes suffering) is the feeling of this condition. It’s the feeling that motivates our further wanting. We perceive an object as the source of our motivation, but its desirability, and our dissatisfaction with not having the object, are in us, not in the object.

We can leave aside the niceties of Buddhist dogmatics. It’s enough to reflect that dissatisfaction and desire are two sides of the same coin. Where meditation is concerned, the objects of our desire and aversion are themselves states of mind. We want not to suffer, and during meditation this wanting co-arises with our suffering. We suffer because we want our minds to be otherwise than they are. And we want our minds to be otherwise than they are because we are suffering.

When we start from suffering to explain why we meditate, it’s often past or habitual suffering that comes to mind. We want to heal, to recover from the difficult experiences or circumstances of our lives. We want to free ourselves from entrenched patterns of reaction that lead us to reproduce our past suffering.

But we soon discover that meditation brings no quick end to our suffering. At times meditation seems to accentuate it, or to bring new flavors of it to the fore, new sufferings layered atop the suffering that brought us to meditate in the first place. If we meditate at the end of a busy, stressful day, we may find our minds unpleasantly full of the “backwash of the day,” to borrow a phrase from Ajahn Chah, the drollest of Thai meditation masters (and the founder of the order in which I ordained). We may replay unpleasant recent interactions in our distracted minds. We may get caught up in reimagining them, or in looking ahead to alternative futures or escapes. We may get songs stuck in our head, or impactful words that we or others should have said, or shouldn’t have said. And if the mind does start to calm and settle, we may find older material coming up, miring us in rumination, even reactivating traumatic responses. Then suffering really kicks in, even as we sit there quietly, doing nothing, eyes closed.

“We meditate because we are dissatisfied with our minds” gets at this. But more to my point here, it highlights how we suffer during meditation about our meditation. We want our meditation to be better. We want our minds to be calmer, clearer, more focused, more silent. We doubt that we’re doing it right, and we become uncertain and indecisive, or rigid and tight. If moments of quiet and peace do come, we want them to last longer, to deepen further, to be more special. We may judge our meditation – or ourselves as meditators – to be inadequate, weak, unskillful, clumsy, or scattered, and from there escalate to I’m no good at meditation. Or to the even more deluded, I’m unusually not good at meditation. (I’ll leave aside for now the supremely deluded, I’m uniquely good at meditation.) Suffering about our meditation is also part of our suffering during meditation, and therefore, paradoxically, part of what we hope meditation will alleviate.

It’s reasonable to ask how much of our suffering about our meditation—and of all of our wanting of the mind to be otherwise than it is—contributes to the difficulty of meditation.

This question took shape in the next line of the inner dialogue I’ve been sharing.

How much of the difficulty of meditation comes from wanting my mind to be otherwise than it is?

As I’ve mentioned, I’d been meditating for many hours a day for about a month, with several more months of the same ahead. The conditions for meditation were ideal. I was alone in a snow-covered forest cabin in the deep silence of a remote monastery at the edge of night. My mind had settled such that the suffering that continued to bubble up had an attenuated, wispy quality, as if not quite mine. So I was able to let this question resonate. It sank into the flow of meditation as the moments passed, and beneath into past moments, to other times it had been hard, had been going poorly, had been dissatisfying.

A lot.

This seemed to be the answer. But as I stayed with the question, the scope of this answer expanded. From the viewpoint I was coming to, all of my difficult feelings and thoughts during meditation—whether about what I might be remembering or imagining, about pain or discomfort in the body, about the quality or progress of meditation, or about myself—all emerged as being of the same kind. They were all just suffering, in my mind, as I was meditating.

Only this present dissatisfaction, whatever its causes, is what’s difficult. Only this wanting of the mind to be otherwise than it is.