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I have heard that on one occasion the Blessed One was staying near Rajagaha in the Bamboo Grove, the Squirrels' Sanctuary.
Then Prince Abhaya went to Nigantha Nataputta and on arrival, having bowed down to him, sat to one side. As he was sitting there, Nigantha Nataputta said to him, "Come, now, prince. Refute the words of the contemplative Gotama, and this admirable report about you will spread afar: 'The words of the contemplative Gotama -- so mighty, so powerful -- were refuted by Prince Abhaya!'"
"But how, venerable sir, will I refute the words of the contemplative Gotama -- so mighty, so powerful?"
"Come now, prince. Go to the contemplative Gotama and on arrival say this: 'Venerable sir, would the Tathāgata say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others?' If the contemplative Gotama, thus asked, answers, 'The Tathāgata would say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others,' then you should say, 'Then how is there any difference between you, venerable sir, and run-of-the-mill people? For even run-of-the-mill people say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others.' But if the contemplative Gotama, thus asked, answers, 'The Tathāgata would not say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others,' then you should say, 'Then how, venerable sir, did you say of Devadatta that "Devadatta is headed for destitution, Devadatta is headed for hell, Devadatta will boil for an eon, Devadatta is incurable"? For Devadatta was upset and disgruntled at those words of yours.' When the contemplative Gotama is asked this two-pronged question by you, he won't be able to swallow it down or spit it up. Just as if a two-horned chestnut [1] were stuck in a man's throat: he would not be able to swallow it down or spit it up. In the same way, when the contemplative Gotama is asked this two-pronged question by you, he won't be able to swallow it down or spit it up."
Responding, "As you say, venerable sir," Prince Abhaya got up from his seat, bowed down to Nigantha Nataputta, circumambulated him, and then went to the Blessed One. On arrival, he bowed down to the Blessed One and sat to one side. As he was sitting there, he glanced up at the sun and thought, "Today is not the time to refute the Blessed One's words. Tomorrow in my own home I will overturn the Blessed One's words." So he said to the Blessed One, "May the Blessed One, together with three others, acquiesce to my offer of tomorrow's meal."
The Blessed One acquiesced with silence.
Then Prince Abhaya, understanding the Blessed One's acquiescence, got up from his seat, bowed down to the Blessed One, circumambulated him, and left.
Then, after the night had passed, the Blessed One early in the morning put on his robes and, carrying his bowl and outer robe, went to Prince Abhaya's home. On arrival, he sat down on a seat made ready. Prince Abhaya, with his own hand, served and satisfied the Blessed One with fine staple and non-staple foods. Then, when the Blessed One had eaten and had removed his hand from his bowl, Prince Abhaya took a lower seat and sat down to one side. As he was sitting there he said to the Blessed One, "Venerable sir, would the Tathāgata say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others?"
"Prince, there is no categorical yes-or-no answer to that."
"Then right here, venerable sir, the Niganthas are destroyed."
"But prince, why do you say, 'then right here, venerable sir, the Niganthas are destroyed'?"
"Just yesterday, venerable sir, I went to Nigantha Nataputta and... he said to me...'Come now, prince. Go to the contemplative Gotama and on arrival say this: "Venerable sir, would the Tathāgata say words that are un-endearing and disagreeable to others?"... Just as if a two-horned chestnut were stuck in a man's throat: he would not be able to swallow it down or spit it up. In the same way, when the contemplative Gotama is asked this two-pronged question by you, he won't be able to swallow it down or spit it up.'"
Now at that time a baby boy was lying face-up on the prince's lap. So the Blessed One said to the prince, "What do you think, prince: If this young boy, through your own negligence or that of the nurse, were to take a stick or a piece of gravel into its mouth, what would you do?"
"I would take it out, venerable sir. If I couldn't get it out right away, then holding its head in my left hand and crooking a finger of my right, I would take it out, even if it meant drawing blood. Why is that? Because I have sympathy for the young boy."
"In the same way, prince:
[1] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be un-factual, untrue, unbeneficial (or: not connected with the goal), un-endearing and disagreeable to others, he does not say them.
[2] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, un-endearing and disagreeable to others, he does not say them.
[3] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, but un-endearing and disagreeable to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them.
[4] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be un-factual, untrue, unbeneficial, but endearing and agreeable to others, he does not say them.
[5] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be factual, true, unbeneficial, but endearing and agreeable to others, he does not say them.
[6] In the case of words that the Tathāgata knows to be factual, true, beneficial, and endearing and agreeable to others, he has a sense of the proper time for saying them. Why is that? Because the Tathāgata has sympathy for living beings."
"Venerable sir, when wise nobles or priests, householders or contemplatives, having formulated questions, come to the Tathāgata and ask him, does this line of reasoning appear to his awareness beforehand -- 'If those who approach me ask this, I -- thus asked -- will answer in this way' -- or does the Tathāgata come up with the answer on the spot?"
"In that case, prince, I will ask you a counter-question. Answer as you see fit. What do you think: are you skilled in the parts of a chariot?"
"Yes, venerable sir. I am skilled in the parts of a chariot."
"And what do you think: When people come and ask you, 'What is the name of this part of the chariot?' does this line of reasoning appear to your awareness beforehand -- 'If those who approach me ask this, I -- thus asked -- will answer in this way' -- or do you come up with the answer on the spot?"
"Venerable sir, I am renowned for being skilled in the parts of a chariot. All the parts of a chariot are well-known to me. I come up with the answer on the spot."
"In the same way, prince, when wise nobles or priests, householders or contemplatives, having formulated questions, come to the Tathāgata and ask him, he comes up with the answer on the spot. Why is that, because the property of the Dhamma is thoroughly penetrated by the Tathāgata. From his thorough penetration of the property of the Dhamma, he comes up with the answer on the spot."
When this was said, Prince Abhaya said to the Blessed One: "Magnificent, venerable sir! Magnificent! Just as if he were to place upright what was overturned, to reveal what was hidden, to show the way to one who was lost, or to carry a lamp into the dark so that those with eyes could see forms, in the same way has the Blessed One -- through many lines of reasoning -- made the Dhamma clear. I go to the Blessed One for refuge, to the Dhamma, and to the Sangha of monks. May the Blessed One remember me as a lay follower who has gone to him for refuge, from this day forward, for life."
Footnote
1. A two-horned chestnut is the nut of a tree (Trapa bicornis) growing in south and Southeast Asia. Its shell looks like the head of a water buffalo, with two nasty, curved "horns" sticking out of either side.