mn.21 Majjhima Nikāya (Middle Discourses)

Discourse on the Parable of the Saw

Thus have I heard:

At one time the Lord was staying near Sāvatthī in the Jeta Grove in Anāthapiṇḍika's monastery. Now at that time the venerable Moliyaphagguna lived too closely associated with the nuns. While the venerable Moliyaphagguna was living associated thus with the nuns, if any monk face to face with the venerable Moliyaphagguna spoke dispraise of those nuns, then the venerable Moliyaphagguna was angry, displeased, and made a legal question. And if some monk face to face with those nuns spoke dispraise of the venerable Moliyaphagguna, then those nuns were angry, displeased, and made a legal question. It was in this way that the venerable Moliyaphagguna was living associated with nuns.

Then a certain monk approached the Lord; having approached, having greeted the Lord, he sat down at a respectful distance. As he was sitting down at a respectful distance, this monk spoke thus to the Lord:

“Lord, the venerable Moliyaphagguna lives too closely associated with nuns. It is thus, Lord, that the venerable Moliyaphagguna lives associated with the nuns:

If any monk face to face with the venerable Moliyaphagguna, speaks in dispraise of the nuns the venerable Moliyaphagguna is angry, displeased and makes a legal question; or if some monk, face to face with the nuns, speaks dispraise of the venerable Moliyaphagguna, these nuns are angry, displeased and make a legal question. It is thus, Lord, that the venerable Moliyaphagguna lives associated with nuns.”

Then the Lord addressed this monk, saying:

“Come you, monk, summon the monk Moliyaphagguna on my behalf, saying:

‘The Lord is summoning you, Phagguna.’”

“Very well, Lord,” and this monk, having answered the Lord in assent, approached the venerable Moliyaphagguna and having approached, spoke thus to the venerable Moliyaphagguna:

“The Lord is summoning you, Phagguna.”

“Very well, your reverence,” and the venerable Moliyaphagguna, having answered this monk in assent, approached the Lord; having approached, having greeted the Lord, he sat down at a respectful distance.

The Lord spoke thus to the venerable Moliyaphagguna as he was sitting down at a respectful distance:

“Is it true, as is said, that you, Phagguna, are living too closely associated with nuns? So that if some monk, face to face with you, speaks in dispraise of the nuns you are angry, displeased and make a legal question; or if some monk, face to face with the nuns, speaks dispraise of you, these nuns are angry, displeased and make a legal question? Is it true, as is said, that you, Phagguna are living associated with the nuns thus?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“But did not you, Phagguna, the son of a respectable family, go forth from home into homelessness out of faith?”

“Yes, Lord.”

“But this is not suitable in you, Phagguna, a son of a respectable family who has gone forth from home into homelessness out of faith, that you should live too closely associated with nuns. Wherefore, Phagguna, even if anyone face to face with you should speak dispraise of those nuns, even so should you, Phagguna, get rid of those which are worldly desires, those which are worldly thoughts; and you, Phagguna, should train yourself thus:

‘Neither will my mind become perverted, nor will I utter an evil speech, but kindly and compassionate will I dwell with a mind of friendliness and void of hatred.’

It is thus that you must train yourself, Phagguna.

Wherefore, Phagguna, even if anyone face to face with you should give a blow with the hand to these nuns, should give a blow with a clod of earth, should give a blow with a stick, should give a blow with a weapon, even then, Phagguna, should you train yourself thus:

‘Neither will my mind become perverted, nor will I utter an evil speech, but kindly and compassionate will I dwell with a mind of friendliness and void of hatred.’

It is thus that you must train yourself, Phagguna.

Wherefore, Phagguna, even if anyone face to face with you should speak dispraise of those nuns, even so should you, Phagguna, get rid of those which are worldly desires, those which are worldly thoughts; and you, Phagguna, should train yourself thus:

‘Neither will my mind become perverted, nor will I utter an evil speech, but kindly and compassionate will I dwell with a mind of friendliness and void of hatred.’

It is thus that you must train yourself, Phagguna.

‘Neither will my mind become perverted, nor will I utter an evil speech, but kindly and compassionate will I dwell with a mind of friendliness and void of hatred.’

It is thus that you must train yourself, Phagguna.”

Then the Lord addressed the monks, saying:

“Monks, my monks at one time were indeed accomplished in mind. Then I, monks, addressed the monks, saying:

‘Now I, monks, partake of a meal at one session. Partaking of a meal at one session, I, monks, am aware of good health and of being without illness and of buoyancy and strength and living in comfort. Come you too, monks, partake of a meal at one session; partaking of a meal at one session you too, monks, will be aware of good health and of being without illness and of buoyancy and strength and living in comfort.’

There was nothing to be done by me, monks, by way of instruction to those monks; all that was to be done by me, monks, was the production of mindfulness among those monks.

Monks, even as on level ground at crossroads a chariot is standing harnessed with thoroughbreds, the goad hanging handy; and a skilled groom, a charioteer of horses to be tamed, having mounted it, having taken the reins in his left hand, having taken the goad in his right, might drive up and down where and how he likes; even so, monks, there was nothing to be done by me by way of instruction to those monks; all that was to be done by me, monks, was the production of mindfulness among those monks.

Wherefore, monks, do you get rid of what is unskilled, make exertion among things that are skilled—so will you too come to growth, development, maturity in this Dhamma and discipline.

Monks, close to some village or little town, a great sal-wood may be overgrown with creepers, but some man might approach it desiring its good, desiring its welfare, desiring its security from bonds; he, having cut off those sal-tree sprouts which are bent and crushed by the strength (of the creepers), would carry them out (of the wood) and would thoroughly clear the inside of the wood. But he would tend properly those sal-tree sprouts which are straight and well grown. Thus, monks, after a time this sal-tree wood would come to growth, development, maturity.

Even so, do you, monks, get rid of what is unskilled, make exertion among things that are skilled—so will you too come to growth, development, maturity in this Dhamma and discipline.

Once upon a time, monks, in this very Sāvatthī, there was a lady householder named Vedehikā. Monks, a lovely reputation had gone forth thus about the lady Vedehikā:

“The lady householder Vedehikā is gentle, she is meek, she is tranquil.”

Now, monks, the lady householder Vedehikā had a slave woman, named Kāḷi, who was clever, diligent, a careful worker. Then, monks, it occurred to the slave woman Kāḷi:

‘A lovely reputation has gone forth about my mistress thus:

“The lady householder Vedehikā is gentle, she is meek, she is tranquil.”

Now does my mistress have an inward ill-temper that she does not show, or does she not have one? Or is it that my mistress, because I do my work so carefully, whether she has an inward ill-temper or not, does not show it? Suppose now that I should test the mistress?’ Then, monks, the slave woman Kāḷi got up late next day.

Then, monks, the lady householder Vedehikā spoke thus to the slave woman Kāḷi:

‘Well now, Kāḷi.’

‘What is it, mistress?’

‘Now why did you get up late today?’

‘That's nothing, mistress.’

‘That's nothing indeed, bad slave—you got up late today,’ and angry, displeased, she frowned. Then, monks, it occurred to the woman slave Kāḷi:

‘Whether my mistress has an inward ill-temper or not, she does not show it. Is it because my work is so careful that my mistress, whether she has an inward ill-temper or not, does not show it? Suppose that I were to test the mistress even further?’

Then, monks, the woman slave Kāḷi got up later the next day.

Then, monks, the lady householder Vedehikā spoke thus to the slave woman Kāḷi:

‘Well now, Kāḷi.’

‘What is it, mistress?’

‘Now why did you get up late today?’

‘That's nothing, mistress.’

‘That's nothing indeed, bad slave—you got up late today,’ and angry, displeased, she spoke a word of displeasure. Then it occurred to the slave woman Kāḷi:

Then, monks, the slave woman Kāḷi got up even later the next day.

Then, monks, the lady householder Vedehikā spoke thus to the slave-woman Kāḷi:

‘Well now, Kāḷi’

‘What is it, mistress?’

‘Now why did you get up late today?’

‘That's nothing, mistress.’

‘That's nothing indeed, bad slave—you got up late today,’ and angry, displeased, having seized the pin for securing the bolt (of a door) she gave her a blow on the head, which cracked her head.

Then, monks, the slave woman Kāḷi, her head broken and streaming with blood, spread it about among the neighbours, saying:

‘See, sirs, the deed of the gentle one; see, sirs, the deed of the meek one; see, sire, the deed of the tranquil one. How can she, saying to her only slave woman, ‘You got up late today,’ angry, displeased, having seized the pin for securing the bolt (of a door), give a blow on the head and crack the head?’

And then, monks, after a time an evil reputation went forth about this lady householder Vedehikā:

“The lady householder Vedehikā is violent, she is not meek, she is not tranquil.”

Even so, monks, some monk here is very gentle, very meek, very tranquil so long as disagreeable ways of speech do not assail him. But when disagreeable ways of speech assail the monk, it is then that he is to be called gentle, is to be called meek, is to be called tranquil.

I, monks, do not call that monk easy to speak to who is easy to speak to about robe-material, almsfood, lodgings, medicines for the sick, who falls into suavity. What is the reason for this? It is, monks, that this monk, not getting robe-material, almsfood, lodgings, medicines for the sick, is not easy to speak to, does not fall into suavity.

Monks, whatever monk, respecting only Dhamma, revering Dhamma, honouring Dhamma, comes to be easy to speak to, falls into suavity—him do I call easy to speak to.

Wherefore, monks, thinking:

Respecting only Dhamma, revering Dhamma, honouring Dhamma, we will become easy to speak to, we will fall into suavity, thus must you train yourselves, monks.

There are, monks, these five ways of speaking in which others when speaking to you might speak:

At a right time or at a wrong time; according to fact or not according to fact; gently or harshly; on what is connected with the goal or on what is not connected with the goal; with a mind of friendliness or full of hatred.

Monks, when speaking to others you might speak at a right time or at a wrong time; monks, when speaking to others you might speak according to fact or not according to fact monks, when speaking to others you might speak gently or harshly; monks, when speaking to others you might speak about what is connected with the goal or about what is not connected with the goal; monks, when speaking to others you might speak with minds of friendliness or full of hatred.

Herein, monks, you should train yourselves thus:

‘Neither will our minds become perverted nor will we utter an evil speech, but kindly and compassionate will we dwell, with a mind of friendliness, void of hatred; and we will dwell having suffused that person with a mind of friendliness; and, beginning with him, we will dwell having suffused the whole world with a mind of friendliness that is far-reaching, widespread, immeasurable, without enmity, without malevolence.’

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

Monks, as a man might come along bringing a shovel and basket, and might speak thus:

‘I will make this great earth not earth’; so he digs here and there, tosses it here and there, spits here and there, stales here and there, thinking:

‘You are becoming not-earth, you are becoming not-earth.’

What do you think about this, monks? Could that man make this great earth not earth?

“No, Lord. What is the reason for this? It is that this great earth, Lord, is deep, it is immeasurable, it is not easy to make it not-earth before that man would be worn out and defeated.”

“Even so, monks, are these five ways of speaking in which others when speaking to you might speak:

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

Monks, as a man might come along bringing lac or yellow or dark green or crimson, and might speak thus:

‘I will delineate material shapes in this space, I will make material shapes appear.’

What do you think about this, monks? Could that man delineate a material shape in this space, could he make material shapes appear?”

“No, Lord. What is the reason for this? It is, Lord, that this space is without shape, it is viewless. It is not easy to delineate a material shape there, to make material shapes appear before that man would be worn out and defeated.”

“Even so, monks, are these five ways of speaking in which others when speaking to you might speak:

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

Monks, as a man might come along bringing a burning grass-torch and might speak thus:

‘I, with this burning grass-torch will set fire to the river Ganges, I will make it scorch up.’

What do you think about this, monks? Could that man, with the burning grass-torch set fire to the river Ganges and make it scorch up?”

“No, Lord. What is the reason for this? It is, Lord, that the river Ganges is deep, it is immeasurable. It is not easy to set fire to it with a burning grass-torch and make it scorch up before that man would be worn out and defeated.”

“Even so, monks, are these five ways of speaking in which others when speaking to you might speak:

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

Monks, it is like a catskin bag that is cured, well cured, cured all over, and is supple, silky, with no hisses, no purrs. Then a man might come along bringing a piece of wood or a potsherd and might speak thus:

‘I, with a piece of wood or a potsherd will get a hiss, will get a purr out of this catskin bag that is cured, well cured, cured all over, and is supple, silky, with no hisses, no purrs.’

What do you think about this, monks? Could that man with a piece of wood or a potsherd get a hiss, get a purr out of that catskin bag that is cured, well cured, cured all over, and is supple, silky, with no hisses, no purrs?”

“No, Lord. What is the reason for this? It is, Lord, that that catskin bag is cured, well cured, cured all over, and is supple, silky, with no hisses, no purrs. It is not easy, with a piece of wood or with a potsherd, to get a hiss out of it or to get a purr, before that man would be worn out and defeated.”

“Even so, monks, are these five ways of speaking in which others when speaking to you might speak:

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

Monks, as low-down thieves might carve one limb from limb with a double-handled saw, yet even then whoever sets his mind at enmity, he, for this reason, is not a doer of my teaching. Herein, monks, you should train yourselves thus:

This is how you must train yourselves, monks.

If you, monks, were to attend repeatedly to this exhortation on the Parable of the Saw, would you, monks, see any way of speech, subtle or gross, that you could not endure?”

“No, Lord.”

“Wherefore, monks, consider repeatedly this exhortation on the Parable of the Saw; for a long time it will be for your welfare and happiness.”

Thus spoke the Lord. Delighted, these monks rejoiced in what the Lord had said.

Discourse on the Parable of the Saw: The First

- Translator: I.B. Horner

- Editor: Brother Joe Smith

The Simile of the Saw

So I have heard.
At one time the Buddha was staying near Sāvatthī in Jeta’s Grove, Anāthapiṇḍika’s monastery.
Then Kāḷī thought,
Now at that time, Venerable Phagguna of the Top-Knot was mixing too closely together with the nuns.
So much so that
if any mendicant criticized those nuns in his presence, Phagguna of the Top-Knot got angry and upset, and even instigated disciplinary proceedings.
And if any mendicant criticized Phagguna of the Top-Knot in their presence, those nuns got angry and upset, and even instigated disciplinary proceedings.
That’s how much Phagguna of the Top-Knot was mixing too closely together with the nuns.
Then a mendicant went up to the Buddha, bowed, sat down to one side, and told him what was going on.

So the Buddha addressed a certain monk,
“Please, monk, in my name tell the mendicant Phagguna of the Top-Knot that
the teacher summons him.”
“Yes, sir,” that monk replied. He went to Phagguna of the Top-Knot and said to him,
“Reverend Phagguna, the teacher summons you.”
“Yes, reverend,” Phagguna replied. He went to the Buddha, bowed, and sat down to one side. The Buddha said to him:
“Is it really true, Phagguna, that you’ve been mixing overly closely together with the nuns?
So much so that
if any mendicant criticizes those nuns in your presence, you get angry and upset, and even instigate disciplinary proceedings?
And if any mendicant criticizes you in those nuns’ presence, they get angry and upset, and even instigate disciplinary proceedings?
Is that how much you’re mixing overly closely together with the nuns?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Phagguna, are you not a gentleman who has gone forth from the lay life to homelessness?”
“Yes, sir.”
“As such, it’s not appropriate for you to mix so closely with the nuns.
So if anyone criticizes those nuns in your presence, you should give up any desires or thoughts of the lay life.
If that happens, you should train like this:
‘My mind will be unaffected. I will blurt out no bad words. I will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.’
That’s how you should train.
So even if someone strikes those nuns with fists, stones, rods, and swords in your presence, you should give up any desires or thoughts of the lay life.
If that happens, you should train like this:
‘My mind will be unaffected. I will blurt out no bad words. I will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.’
That’s how you should train.
So if anyone criticizes you in your presence, you should give up any desires or thoughts of the lay life.
If that happens, you should train like this: ‘My mind will be unaffected. I will blurt out no bad words. I will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.’
That’s how you should train.
So Phagguna, even if someone strikes you with fists, stones, rods, and swords, you should give up any desires or thoughts of the lay life.
If that happens, you should train like this: ‘My mind will be unaffected. I will blurt out no bad words. I will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.’
That’s how you should train.”
Then the Buddha said to the mendicants:
“Mendicants, I used to be satisfied with the mendicants.
Once, I addressed them:
‘I eat my food in one sitting per day.
Doing so, I find that I’m healthy and well, nimble, strong, and living comfortably.
You too should eat your food in one sitting per day.
Doing so, you’ll find that you’re healthy and well, nimble, strong, and living comfortably.’
I didn’t have to keep on instructing those mendicants;
I just had to prompt their mindfulness.
Suppose a chariot stood harnessed to thoroughbreds at a level crossroads, with a goad ready.
Then a deft horse trainer, a master charioteer, might mount the chariot, taking the reins in his right hand and goad in the left. He’d drive out and back wherever he wishes, whenever he wishes.
In the same way, I didn’t have to keep on instructing those mendicants;
I just had to prompt their mindfulness.
So, mendicants, you too should give up what’s unskillful and devote yourselves to skillful qualities.
In this way you’ll achieve growth, improvement, and maturity in this teaching and training.
Suppose that not far from a town or village there was a large grove of sal trees
that was choked with castor-oil weeds.
Then along comes a person who wants to help protect and nurture that grove.
They’d cut down the crooked sal saplings that were robbing the sap, and throw them out. They’d clean up the interior of the grove,
and properly care for the straight, well-formed sal saplings.
In this way, in due course, that sal grove would grow, increase, and mature.
In the same way, mendicants, you too should give up what’s unskillful and devote yourselves to skillful qualities.
In this way you’ll achieve growth, improvement, and maturity in this teaching and training.
Once upon a time, mendicants, right here in Sāvatthī there was a housewife named Vedehikā.
She had this good reputation:
‘The housewife Vedehikā is sweet, even-tempered, and calm.’
Now, Vedehikā had a bonded maid named Kāḷī who was skilled, tireless, and well-organized in her work.
‘My mistress has a good reputation as being
sweet, even-tempered, and calm.
But does she actually have anger in her and just not show it? Or does she have no anger?
Or is it just because my work is well-organized that she doesn’t show anger, even though she still has it inside?
Why don’t I test my mistress?’
So Kāḷī got up during the day.
Vedehikā said to her,
‘What the hell, Kāḷī!’
‘What is it, madam?’
‘You’re getting up in the day—what’s up with you, girl?’
‘Nothing, madam.’
‘Nothing’s up, you bad girl, but you get up in the day!’ Angry and upset, she scowled.
Then Kāḷī thought,
‘My mistress actually has anger in her and just doesn’t show it; it’s not that she has no anger.
It’s just because my work is well-organized that she doesn’t show anger, even though she still has it inside.
Why don’t I test my mistress further?’
So Kāḷī got up later in the day.
Vedehikā said to her,
‘What the hell, Kāḷī!’
‘What is it, madam?’
‘You’re getting up later in the day—what’s up with you, girl?’
‘Nothing, madam.’
‘Nothing’s up, you bad girl, but you get up later in the day!’ Angry and upset, she blurted out angry words.
Then Kāḷī thought,
‘My mistress actually has anger in her and just doesn’t show it; it’s not that she has no anger.
It’s just because my work is well-organized that she doesn’t show anger, even though she still has it inside.
Why don’t I test my mistress further?’
So Kāḷī got up even later in the day.
Vedehikā said to her,
‘What the hell, Kāḷī!’
‘What is it, madam?’
‘You’re getting up even later in the day—what’s up with you, girl?’
‘Nothing, madam.’
‘Nothing’s up, you bad girl, but you get up even later in the day!’ Angry and upset, she grabbed a rolling-pin and hit Kāḷī on the head, cracking it open.
Then Kāḷī, with blood pouring from her cracked skull, denounced her mistress to the neighbors,
‘See, ladies, what the sweet one did!
See what the even-tempered one did! See what the calm one did!
How on earth can she grab a rolling-pin and hit her only maid on the head, cracking it open, just for getting up late?’
Then after some time the housewife Vedehikā got this bad reputation:
‘The housewife Vedehikā is fierce, ill-tempered, and not calm at all.’
In the same way, a mendicant may be the sweetest of the sweet, the most even-tempered of the even-tempered, the calmest of the calm, so long as they don’t encounter any disagreeable criticism.
But it’s when they encounter disagreeable criticism that you’ll know whether they’re really sweet, even-tempered, and calm.
I don’t say that a mendicant is easy to admonish if they make themselves easy to admonish only for the sake of robes, almsfood, lodgings, and medicines and supplies for the sick.
Why is that?
Because when they don’t get robes, almsfood, lodgings, and medicines and supplies for the sick, they’re no longer easy to admonish.
But when a mendicant is easy to admonish purely because they honor, respect, revere, worship, and venerate the teaching, then I say that they’re easy to admonish.
So, mendicants, you should train yourselves: ‘We will be easy to admonish purely because we honor, respect, revere, worship, and venerate the teaching.’
That’s how you should train.
Mendicants, there are these five ways in which others might criticize you.
Their speech may be timely or untimely,
true or false,
gentle or harsh,
beneficial or harmful,
from a heart of love or from secret hate.
When others criticize you, they may do so in any of these ways.

If that happens, you should train like this:
‘Our minds will remain unaffected. We will blurt out no bad words. We will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.
We will meditate spreading a heart of love to that person. And with them as a basis, we will meditate spreading a heart full of love to everyone in the world—abundant, expansive, limitless, free of enmity and ill will.’
That’s how you should train.
Suppose a person was to come along carrying a spade and basket
and say,
‘I shall make this great earth be without earth!’
And they’d dig all over, scatter all over, spit all over, and urinate all over, saying,
‘Be without earth! Be without earth!’
What do you think, mendicants?
Could that person make this great earth be without earth?”
“No, sir.
Why is that?
Because this great earth is deep and limitless.
It’s not easy to make it be without earth.
That person will eventually get weary and frustrated.”
“In the same way, there are these five ways in which others might criticize you.
Their speech may be timely or untimely,
true or false,
gentle or harsh,
beneficial or harmful,
from a heart of love or from secret hate.
When others criticize you, they may do so in any of these ways.

If that happens, you should train like this:
‘Our minds will remain unaffected. We will blurt out no bad words. We will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.
We will meditate spreading a heart of love to that person. And with them as a basis, we will meditate spreading a heart like the earth to everyone in the world—abundant, expansive, limitless, free of enmity and ill will.’
That’s how you should train.
Suppose a person was to come along with dye such as red lac, turmeric, indigo, or rose madder,
and say,
‘I shall draw pictures on the sky, making pictures appear there.’
What do you think, mendicants?
Could that person draw pictures on the sky?”
“No, sir.
Why is that?
Because the sky is formless and invisible.
It’s not easy to draw pictures there.
That person will eventually get weary and frustrated.”
“In the same way, there are these five ways in which others might criticize you …

Suppose a person was to come along carrying a blazing grass torch,
and say,
‘I shall burn and scorch the river Ganges with this blazing grass torch.’
What do you think, mendicants?
Could that person burn and scorch the river Ganges with a blazing grass torch?”
“No, sir.
Why is that?
Because the river Ganges is deep and limitless.
It’s not easy to burn and scorch it with a blazing grass torch.
That person will eventually get weary and frustrated.”
“In the same way, there are these five ways in which others might criticize you …

Suppose there was a catskin bag that was rubbed, well-rubbed, very well-rubbed, soft, silky, rid of rustling and crackling.
Then a person comes along carrying a stick or a stone,
and says,
‘I shall make this soft catskin bag rustle and crackle with this stick or stone.’
What do you think, mendicants?
Could that person make that soft catskin bag rustle and crackle with that stick or stone?”
“No, sir.
Why is that?
Because that catskin bag is rubbed, well-rubbed, very well-rubbed, soft, silky, rid of rustling and crackling.
It’s not easy to make it rustle or crackle with a stick or stone.
That person will eventually get weary and frustrated.”
“In the same way, there are these five ways in which others might criticize you.
Their speech may be timely or untimely,
true or false,
gentle or harsh,
beneficial or harmful,
from a heart of love or from secret hate.
When others criticize you, they may do so in any of these ways.

If that happens, you should train like this:
‘Our minds will remain unaffected. We will blurt out no bad words. We will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.
We will meditate spreading a heart of love to that person. And with them as a basis, we will meditate spreading a heart like a catskin bag to everyone in the world—abundant, expansive, limitless, free of enmity and ill will.’
That’s how you should train.
Even if low-down bandits were to sever you limb from limb, anyone who had a malevolent thought on that account would not be following my instructions.
If that happens, you should train like this:
‘Our minds will remain unaffected. We will blurt out no bad words. We will remain full of compassion, with a heart of love and no secret hate.
We will meditate spreading a heart of love to that person. And with them as a basis, we will meditate spreading a heart full of love to everyone in the world—abundant, expansive, limitless, free of enmity and ill will.’
That’s how you should train.
If you frequently reflect on this advice—the simile of the saw—
do you see any criticism, large or small, that you could not endure?”
“No, sir.”
“So, mendicants, you should frequently reflect on this advice, the simile of the saw.
This will be for your lasting welfare and happiness.”
That is what the Buddha said.
Satisfied, the mendicants were happy with what the Buddha said.