16.2 The Story about a Certain Head of a Family
Aññatarakuṭumbikavatthu

“From loving there arises grief,” [30.83] {3.276} this Dhamma teaching was given by the Teacher while he was in residence at Jetavana with reference to a certain head of a family.

It seems that, on losing his son, he was so overwhelmed with grief that he went every day to the charnel ground and wept, being unable to restrain his grief. As the Teacher surveyed the world at dawn, he saw that the lay disciple had the supporting conditions for the path of Stream-entry.

So when he came back from his alms-round, he took one attendant bhikkhu and went to the lay disciple’s door. When the lay disciple heard that the Teacher had come to his house, he thought to himself: “He must wish to exchange the usual compliments of health and civility with me.” So he invited the Teacher into his house, provided him with a seat in the house-court, and when the Teacher had taken his seat, approached him, saluted him, and sat down respectfully on one side.

At once the Teacher asked him: “Lay disciple, why are you sad?” – “I have lost my son; therefore am I sad,” replied the lay disciple. The Teacher said: “Grieve not, lay disciple. That which is called death is not confined to one place {3.277} or to one person, but is common to all creatures who are born into the world. Not one of the conditions is permanent. Therefore one should not give himself up to grief, but should rather take a reasonable view of death, even as it is said: ‘That having the nature to die has died, that having the nature to break-up has broken-up.’

For wise men of old sorrowed not over the death of a son, but applied themselves diligently to meditation upon death, saying to themselves: ‘That having the nature to die has died, that having the nature to break-up has broken-up.’” The lay disciple asked the Teacher: “Venerable Sir, who were they that did this? When was it that they did this? Pray tell me about it.” So to make the matter clear, the Teacher related the following

Story of the Past: The Birth Story about the Angry Snake BG: Ja 354. AJ: I include the first part of the story here, the commentary had only the verses.

In the past when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born in a brahmin household, in a village outside the gates of Benares, and rearing a family he supported them by field labour. He had two children, a son and a daughter. When the son was grown up, the father brought a wife home for him from a family of equal rank with his own. Thus with a maidservant they composed a household of six: the Bodhisatta and his wife, the son and daughter, the daughter-in-law and the maidservant. They lived happily and affectionately together.

The Bodhisatta thus admonished the other five: “According as you have received, give alms, observe the Observance Days, keep the moral law, dwell on the thought of death, be mindful of your mortal state. For in the case of beings like ourselves, death is certain, life uncertain: all existing things are transitory and subject to decay. Therefore take heed to your ways day and night.” They readily accepted his teaching and dwelt earnestly on the thought of death.

Now one day the Bodhisatta went with his son to plough his field. The son gathered together the rubbish and set fire to it. Not far from where he was, lived a snake in an anthill. The smoke hurt the snake’s eyes. Coming out from his hole in a rage, he thought: “This is all due to that fellow,” and fastening upon him with its four teeth it bit him. The youth fell down dead.

The Bodhisatta on seeing him fall, left his oxen and came to him, and finding that he was dead, he took him up and laid him at the foot of a certain tree, and covering him up with a cloak, he neither wept nor lamented. He said: “That having the nature to die has died, that having the nature to break-up has broken-up. All compound existences are transitory and liable to death.” And recognizing the transitory nature of things he went on with his ploughing. Seeing a neighbour pass close by the field, he asked: “Friend, are you going home?” And on his answering: “Yes,” he said: “Please then to go to our house and say to the mistress: ‘You are not today as formerly to bring food for two, but to bring it for one only. And hitherto the maidservant alone has brought the food, but today all four of you are to put on clean garments, and to come with perfumes and flowers in your hands.’”

“All right,” he said, and went and spoke these very words to the brahmin’s wife. She asked: “By whom, sir, was this message given?” – “By the Brahmin, lady,” he replied.

Then she understood that her son was dead. But she did not so much as tremble. Thus showing perfect self-control, and wearing white garments and with perfumes and flowers in her hand, she bade them bring food, and accompanied the other members of the family to the field. But not one of them either shed a tear or made lamentation. The Bodhisatta, still sitting in the shade where the youth lay, ate his food. And when his meal was finished, they all took up firewood and lifting the body on to the funeral pile, they made offerings of perfumes and flowers, and then set fire to it. But not a single tear was shed by any one. All were dwelling on the thought of death.

Such was the efficacy of their virtue that the throne of Sakka manifested signs of heat. Sakka said: “Who, I wonder, is anxious to bring me down from my throne?” And on reflection he discovered that the heat was due to the force of virtue existing in these people, and being highly pleased he said: “I must go to them and utter a loud cry of exultation like the roaring of a lion, and immediately afterwards fill their dwelling place with the seven treasures.” And going there in haste he stood by the side of the funeral pyre and said: “What are you doing?” – “We are burning the body of a man, my lord.”

“It is no man that you are burning,” he said. “I think you are roasting the flesh of some beast that you have slain.” – “Not so, my lord,” they said. “It is merely the body of a man that we are burning.”

Then he said: “It must have been some enemy.” The Bodhisatta said: “It is our own true son, and no enemy,” – “Then he could not have been dear as a son to you.” – “He was very dear, my lord.” – “Then why do you not weep?” Then the Bodhisatta, to explain the reason why he did not weep, uttered the first verses: AJ: the story continues with the mother, the sister, the wife and the handmaiden all expressing the same sentiments.

Even as a snake his worn-out skin
casts off and goes along on his body,
so disposing of this useless body
at death, he goes to the next world.

He knows not the burning
nor laments relatives
therefore I do not grieve,
he has gone to his destiny. [30.84]

When the Teacher had related in detail this Birth Story about the (Angry) Snake, AJ: Ja 354. found in the fifth book, he continued as follows: “In times past wise men did not do as you are doing on the death of a son. You have abandoned your wonted occupations, have deprived yourself of food, and spend your time in lamentation. Wise men of old did not so. On the contrary, they applied themselves diligently to meditation upon death, would not allow themselves to grieve, ate their food as usual, and attended to their wonted occupations. {3.278} Therefore grieve not at the thought that your dear son is dead. For whether grief or fear arises, it arises solely because of one that is dear.” So saying, the Teacher pronounced the following verse:

212. Piyato jāyatī soko, piyato jāyatī bhayaṁ,
piyato vippamuttassa natthi soko, kuto bhayaṁ?

From loving there arises grief,
from loving there arises fear,
for one who is free from loving
there is no grief, how is there fear?

At the end of the teaching the head of the family was established in the fruition of Stream-entry, and those assembled had benefit from the Dhamma teaching.