When he said this, Citta Hatthisāriputta’s companions said to Mahākoṭṭhita, “Venerable, please don’t rebuke Citta Hatthisāriputta. He is astute, and quite capable of talking about the teachings with the senior mendicants.”

“It’s not easy to know this, reverends, for those who don’t encompass another’s mind.

Take an individual who is the gentlest of the gentle, the most placid of the placid, the calmest of the calm, so long as they live relying on the Teacher or a spiritual companion in a teacher’s role. But when they’re separated from the Teacher or a spiritual companion in a teacher’s role, they mix closely with monks, nuns, laymen, and laywomen; with rulers and their chief ministers, and with monastics of other religions and their disciples. As they mix closely, they become familiar and loose, spending time chatting, and so lust infects their mind. They resign the training and return to a lesser life.

Suppose an ox fond of crops was tied up or shut in a pen. Would it be right to say that that ox will never again invade the crops?”

“No it would not, reverend. For it’s quite possible that that ox will snap the ropes or break out of the pen, and then invade the crops.”