The Cruel Butcher
TH ERE WAS ONCE A BUTCHER who was a very mean and wicked man. Never
in his life had he ever done any meritorious deeds. His job was slaughtering pigs and he
loved it, often torturing them mercilessly before putting them to
death.
One day he
got very sick and finally died, but before he died he suffered such agony that
he crawled around on his hands and knees for days, squealing and grunting like
a pig being slaughtered.
It so
happened that the butcher’s home was within ear’s reach of the monastery where
the Buddha and his monks were staying. When the bhikkhus heard the desperate
squeals coming from his house, they assumed that the miserable butcher was at
his cruel work again and shook their heads in great disapproval. The squeals
and grunts went on for several days until, one day, they stopped just as
suddenly as they had begun. The monks could not help but remark to each other
how wicked and hard-hearted the butcher was for having caused his poor animals
so much pain and suffering.
The Buddha
overheard what they were saying and said, “Bhikkhus, the butcher was not
slaughtering his pigs. He was very ill and in such great pain that he was
acting like the pigs he used to enjoy inflicting pain upon. His bad kamma had
finally caught up with him. Today he died and was reborn in a woeful state of
existence.”
The Buddha then exhorted his disciples to be alert at doing
good. for
anyone who did evil deeds would have to suffer for them. There was no way
to escape
from one’s evil deeds, he warned his disciples.
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