“Tuccho Pothila”. Venerable Empty-Scripture

 “Tuccho Pothila”. Venerable  Empty-Scripture

An informal talk given at Ajahn Chah’s kuti, to a group of lay people, one evening in 1978 

There are two ways to support Buddhism. One is known as ¯amisap¯uj¯a, supporting through material offerings. These are the four requisites of food, clothing, shelter and medicine. This is to support Buddhism by giving material offerings to the Sa˙ngha of monks and nuns, enabling them to live in reasonable comfort for the practice of Dhamma. This fosters the direct  realization of the Buddha’s teaching, in turn bringing continued prosperity to the Buddhist  religion.

Buddhism can be likened to a tree. A tree has roots, a trunk, branches, twigs and leaves. All the leaves and branches, including the trunk depend on the roots to absorb nutriment from the soil and send it out to them. In the same way as the tree depends on the roots to sustain it, our actions and our speech are like “branches” and “leaves,”which depend on the mind, the  “root,”absorbing nutriment, which it then sends out to the “trunk”, “branches” and “leaves.”  

These in turn bear fruit as our speech and actions. Whatever state the mind is in, skillful or unskillful, it expresses that quality outwardly through our actions and speech.

Therefore the support of Buddhism through the practical application of the teaching is the most important kind of support. For example, in the ceremony of determining the precepts on observance days,the teacher describes those unskillful actions which should be avoided. But if  you simply go through the ceremony of determining the precepts without reflecting on their meaning, progress is difficult. You will be unable to find the true practice. The real support of Buddhism must therefore be done through patipattipuj .¯ a¯, the “offering” of practice, cultivating true restraint, concentration and wisdom. Then you will know what Buddhism is all about. If you don’t understand through practice you still won’t know, even if you learn the whole Tipitaka.

In the time of the Buddha there was a monk known as Tuccho Pothila. Tuccho Pothila was very learned, thoroughly versed in the scriptures and texts. He was so famous that he was revered by people everywhere and had eighteen monasteries under his care. When people heard the name “Tuccho Pothila” they were awe-struck and nobody would dare question anything he  taught, so much did they revere his command of the teachings. Tuccho Pothila was one of the Buddha’s most learned disciples.

One day he went to pay respects to the Buddha. As he was paying his respects, the Buddha  said, “Ah, hello, Venerable Empty Scripture!”... just like that! They conversed for a while until it was time to go, and then, as he was taking leave of the Buddha, the Buddha said, “Oh, leaving now, Venerable Empty Scripture?”

That was all the Buddha said. On arriving, “Oh, hello, Venerable Empty Scripture.” When it was time to go, “Ah, leaving now, Venerable Empty Scripture?” The Buddha didn’t expand on it, that was all the teaching he gave. Tuccho Pothila, the eminent teacher, was puzzled, “Why did the Buddha say that? What did he mean?” He thought and thought, turning over everything he had  learned, until eventually he realized...“It’s true! Venerable Empty Scripture  –  a monk who  studies but doesn’t practice.”When he looked into his heart he saw that really he was no different from lay people. Whatever they aspired to he also aspired to, whatever they enjoyed  he also enjoyed. There was no real samana within him, no truly profound quality capable of firmly establishing him in the Noble Way and providing true peace.

So he decided to practice. But there was nowhere for him to go to. All the teachers around were his own students, no-one would dare accept him. Usually when people meet their teacher they become timid and deferential, and so no-one would dare become his teacher.

Finally he went to see a certain young novice, who was enlightened, and asked to practice under him. The novice said, “Yes, sure you can practice with me, but only if you’re sincere. If you’re not sincere then I won’t accept you.”Tuccho Pothila pledged himself as a student of the novice.

The novice then told him to put on all his robes. Now there happened to be a muddy bog nearby. When Tuccho Pothila had neatly put on all his robes, expensive ones they were, too, the novice said, “Okay, now run down into this muddy bog. If I don’t tell you to stop, don’t stop.  

If I don’t tell you to come out, don’t come out. Okay...run!” 

Tuccho Pothila, neatly robed, plunged into the bog. The novice didn’t tell him to stop until he was completely covered in mud. Finally he said, “You can stop, now”...so he stopped. “Okay, come on up!”...and so he came out.

This clearly showed that Tuccho Pothila had given up his pride. He was ready to accept the teaching. If he wasn’t ready to learn he wouldn’t have run into the bog like that, being such a famous teacher, but he did it. The young novice, seeing this, knew that Tuccho Pothila was sincerely determined to practice. 

When Tuccho Pothila had come out of the bog, the novice gave him the teaching. He taught him to observe the sense objects, to know the mind and to know the sense objects, using the simile of a man catching a lizard hiding in a termite mound. If the mound had six holes in it, how would he catch it? He would have to seal off five of the holes and leave just one open. Then he would have to simply watch and wait, guarding that one hole. When the lizard ran out he could catch it. 

Observing the mind is like this. Closing off the eyes, ears, nose, tongue and body, we leave only the mind. To “close off” the senses means to restrain and compose them, observing only the mind. Meditation is like catching the lizard. We use sati to note the breath. Sati is the quality of recollection, as in asking yourself, “What am I doing?” Sampajañña is the awareness that “now I am doing such and such.” 

We observe the in and out breathing with sati and sampajañña. 

This quality of recollection is something that arises from practice, it’s not something that can be learned from books. Know the feelings that arise. The mind may be fairly inactive for a while and then a feeling arises. Sati works in conjunction with these feelings, recollecting them. 

There is sati, the recollection that “I will speak,” “I will go,” “I will sit” and so on, and then there  is sampajañña, the awareness that “now I am walking,” “I am lying down,” “I am experiencing such and such a mood.”With these two things, sati and sampajañña, we can know our minds in the present moment. 

We will know how the mind reacts to sense impressions. 

That which is aware of sense objects is called “mind.” Sense objects “wander into” the mind. 

For instance, there is a sound, like the electric planer here. It enters through the ear and travels inwards to the mind, which acknowledges that it is the sound of an electric planer. That which acknowledges the sound is called “mind.”