An edited transcript of a public lecture by Chan master Žarko Andričević

The Central Role of Compassion in Buddhism

In Buddhism, compassion is considered one of the most important positive emotions. When people think of Buddhism, they typically associate it with two main things. One is certainly compassion, and the other is wisdom.

The vast tradition of Buddhism, with all its diverse schools, is often distilled into these two concepts. You could say that wisdom and compassion are the two wings of enlightenment. What this means is that even the ultimate goal—liberation from suffering—is characterized by these two virtues. They are inseparable: without compassion, there is no true wisdom, and without wisdom, there is no true compassion. Just as a bird needs both wings to fly, a practitioner needs both wisdom and compassion to reach liberation. This shows you just how fundamental compassion is in the Buddhist path.

Compassion as a Practice: The Divine Abodes

As we engage with the Buddhist path, we naturally encounter practices for cultivating the mind, primarily through meditation. This inner work inevitably brings us into contact with positive emotions we are meant to nurture.

One of the earliest and most cherished sets of practices is the Brahma Viharas, often translated as the Divine Abodes or Sublime States. In the Mahayana tradition, these are also called the Immeasurables. They are four boundless qualities: loving-kindness, compassion, empathetic joy, and equanimity. These are the states where the gods are said to dwell—states of elevated, positive mind. As you can see, compassion is one of these core abodes.

Here, compassion isn’t presented as the finish line, but as something to be cultivated at every stage of the journey. Whether you’re just starting out, are well along the path, or are nearing the end, nurturing compassion is always crucial. This practice is vital across all Buddhist traditions, from the Theravada schools to the various Mahayana paths.

Compassion and Bodhicitta

In Mahayana Buddhism, the virtue of compassion takes on an even more central and exalted role. This is embodied in the ideal of the bodhisattva—a being dedicated to the enlightenment of all. The defining characteristic of a bodhisattva is great compassion.

This compassion is the heart of what’s called bodhicitta, the awakened mind or mind of enlightenment. Bodhicitta has two key aspects. The first is, of course, compassion. The second is renunciation or letting go—specifically, letting go of attachment and self-centeredness.

So on one hand, we work to free ourselves from the cage of self-absorption. On the other, we actively develop compassion for others. These two practices are intimately linked. They fuel each other.

Think of it this way: as our self-centeredness diminishes, the openness of our mind expands. And as our mind becomes more open, our awareness of others—their feelings, their struggles, their needs—naturally increases. This very awareness is the ground of compassion.

When someone is deeply egocentric, their world is very small. They are focused solely on their own needs, interests, and well-being. In that narrow space, there’s little room for genuine awareness of others, and therefore, little room for true compassion to grow. Compassion requires that we step outside that small self.

Distinguishing Compassion from Sympathy and Empathy

Now, in our everyday experience, what we call “compassion” can often get mixed up with other, similar-looking emotions. It’s important to untangle these.

We often feel sympathy or fondness for others. When we see someone in a tough spot, we might feel pity or sorrow for them. While these feelings aren’t bad, they are not the same as compassion. Very often, sympathy and pity contain a hidden element of self-concern. We shudder at another’s misfortune partly because we imagine ourselves in their place and fear it. The reaction is more about “there but for the grace of go I” than a pure connection to their experience. There can even be a subtle sense of superiority in pity: “I feel sorry for them because I’m not in that terrible situation.”

Then there’s empathy. This is a deeper connection than sympathy. It’s the ability to actually feel what another person is feeling, to step into their shoes emotionally. While powerful, empathy has its pitfalls. It can be overwhelming, causing us to be flooded by the other’s pain to the point of paralysis. We suffer with them but become helpless to aid them. Furthermore, empathy can be selective. We might easily feel empathy for those in our inner circle, yet feel nothing for strangers or those we perceive as “other.”

So where does compassion fit in? Compassion includes a clear understanding of what the other is feeling (an element of empathy), but it doesn’t stop there. It is not passive. Crucially, compassion adds the active desire to alleviate that suffering, coupled with the wisdom to understand its causes. To be truly helpful, we need more than just shared feeling; we need a calm and clear mind. We must be able to understand the roots of the problem and see a way forward, without being swept away by the emotional tide ourselves.

Quote: “Compassion is not a passive experiencing of what others experience; compassion is active action.”

A Story of Transformation: Kisāgotami

The Buddha told a story that beautifully illustrates the difference between sympathy, empathy, and true compassion. It’s the story of Kisāgotami.

Kisāgotami’s young child died, and her grief was so immense that she was driven to madness. Carrying her child’s body, she went from house to house, begging for medicine to bring her baby back to life.

The people she encountered felt deep sympathy for her. They pitied her and offered kind words, urging her to accept the truth. But their pity couldn’t pierce her delusion.

Some felt a sharp empathy. They had perhaps lost loved ones themselves, and her pain triggered their own. This was so unbearable that to protect themselves, they had to close their doors on her. Their shared feeling left them powerless.

Finally, she was directed to the Buddha. He listened and then gave her a task: to bring him a handful of mustard seeds from a home where no one had ever died. Desperate, Kisāgotami went door to door again. At every house, she found mustard seeds, but she also heard stories of loss—a child, a spouse, a parent. Every family had known death.

In searching for a house untouched by death, she encountered the universal truth of loss. She saw that her suffering, though profound, was not unique. This realization broke the shell of her personal agony. She buried her child and returned to the Buddha, eventually becoming his disciple and attaining liberation.

The Buddha’s response wasn’t sympathy that agreed with her delusion, nor was it an empathy that simply shared her despair. It was compassion—a wise and skillful action designed to lead her to her own insight and freedom from suffering.

This story shows why it’s so vital to recognize what’s happening in our own hearts when we encounter suffering—whether it’s someone else’s or our own. Are we merely feeling sorry? Are we being overwhelmed by shared pain? Or is there a clearer, calmer intention to help find a way out?

The Application: Compassion and Personal Boundaries

This brings us to the practical question of personal boundaries. If we are practitioners cultivating compassion, what does that look like in daily life, especially in our relationships?

The Buddha once spoke of four kinds of people: those who care only for themselves; those who care only for others; those who care for neither; and those who care for both themselves and others.

The ideal is the fourth type. Compassion must be applied equally to ourselves and to others. The image of a bodhisattva giving everything for others can be misleading. If we help others while neglecting our own well-being, we end up drained, resentful, and ineffective. That isn’t real help for anyone—not for them, and certainly not for us.

Applying compassion to yourself is not selfish; it’s essential. It means taking your practice seriously. It means knowing your own limits, your mental and physical state, and creating the conditions you need to remain healthy and balanced. You cannot draw water from an empty well.

Ideally, when self-centeredness is fully dissolved, compassion flows without limits and wisdom naturally protects us from harm. But for most of us on the path, while traces of ego remain, we need to set healthy boundaries. These aren’t walls built from fear, but intelligent fences built from wisdom.

Wisdom is the ability to discern what is truly helpful from what is not. Sometimes, helping people exactly the way they ask is not the compassionate thing to do. If someone with a spending problem asks for money, giving it might enable their harmful pattern. Real compassion requires understanding the root of the suffering.

People who pride themselves on being “nice” or “good” often struggle with boundaries. They want to be seen as helpful, so they say yes to everything, becoming doormats. Their actions are governed by others’ opinions, not by wise discernment. They burn out, and their “help” often doesn’t address the real need.

True compassion can sometimes look stern or feel uncomfortable. It might involve saying “no,” or confronting someone with the consequences of their actions. The goal isn’t to be liked, but to be truly helpful. Compassion distinguishes between what a person wants and what they genuinely need for their long-term freedom from suffering.

Q&A Session

Q1: When we see immense suffering we can’t fix, like animal cruelty abroad, how do we avoid being paralyzed by grief and despair?
A: First, recognize what you’re feeling. Is it overwhelming empathy? It’s natural to feel that. But we must then consciously redirect that emotional energy. We can’t solve all the world’s suffering at once, but we can always work on the suffering within our reach—starting with our own minds. Use the pain you feel as fuel for your own practice. Cultivate inner peace and clarity. This isn’t turning away; it’s building the inner strength that will eventually allow you to act more effectively and sustainably in the world, in whatever capacity you can. Staying in a state of paralyzed despair helps no one, least of all yourself.

Q2: If we leave a draining relationship to protect our peace, how do we handle the guilt that comes with setting that boundary?
A: If you’ve made a careful, wise decision to set a boundary for good reason, then the lingering guilt is often just a mental habit or a sign of old patterns. Don’t keep re-examining a solid decision. If the relationship was truly toxic and unfixable, you did the necessary thing. Compassion for yourself includes allowing yourself to make healthy choices. Replaying the guilt is a form of self-punishment that serves no purpose. Trust your discernment and move forward.

Q3: How do we develop compassion for people who cause great harm, like corrupt leaders or criminals, instead of just feeling angry and passive?
A: This is the real test of universal compassion. We must remember that people are not intrinsically or permanently evil. Harmful actions arise from a complex web of causes, conditions, ignorance, and inner pain. This doesn’t excuse the actions, but it helps us understand that the person is not identical to their worst deeds. The Buddhist teacher Aṅgulimāla was a serial killer who, after meeting the Buddha, became a liberated saint. His nature was transformed. Compassion in this context means wishing for them to be free from the ignorance and hatred that drives their actions, because only then will the harm stop. It’s a compassion for their potential to change, which is the only thing that can break the cycle of violence. As the Buddha said, “Hatred is never appeased by hatred in this world. By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased.”

Q4: In daily life, how can we spot when our “helpfulness” is secretly fueled by ego, like feeling superior because we’re the one helping?
A: It’s a great question. To start, an ego that’s oriented toward helping is far better than one oriented toward harming! Don’t be too afraid of the ego’s presence in your good deeds. Initially, we often help for mixed motives: to feel good, to be seen as kind, or out of a sense of obligation. That’s okay. It’s a starting point. The key is to keep practicing and to bring mindful awareness to your intentions. As your wisdom grows, you’ll naturally notice these subtle egoic currents more clearly. Over time, with genuine practice, the selfish layers will thin out, and compassion will become more pure and selfless. For now, just keep directing your energy toward constructive action. The motivation will refine itself along the way.

Closing Remarks

Thank you all for your thoughtful questions and for joining this discussion. Cultivating compassion with wisdom is a lifelong practice, but it is the very heart of a meaningful path. I hope this conversation has been useful. Until next time.