Compassion

A young boy wandered into the local temple one day and came upon the Master. The boy struck up a conversation with him and found the man quite funny.

“Do you ever leave the Temple?” asked the boy.

“No,” replied the Master, “my students need me here.”

The boy frowned. “That sounds lonely. Can we be friends?” asked the boy.

“Of course,” said the Master. The boy bounded up and down. “Since you can’t leave, I’ll come back to tell you about things that happen outside!”

The Master grinned. “That would be most wonderful.” The boy waved goodbye and darted out the door.

A week later, the boy returned with news from the outside. “The village held a festival last night. There was music, dancing, food, and fireworks. It was amazing!”

“I know,” said the Master.

“Perhaps he had heard all the commotion coming from the town,” thought the boy. The two chatted for a time and then the boy bid the Master farewell.

A month went by and the boy returned with more news. “Master, Master.” he said. “A girl kissed me on the cheek!” The boy grinned from ear to ear.

The Master smiled at him and said, “I know.”

The boy cocked his head. “Perhaps one of his monks was passing by and saw it happen,” he thought. The boy stayed a while and the two told jokes and had a good laugh. Then the boy bid the Master farewell.

Two months later, the boy came running into the Temple and fell at the Master’s feet. “I did not listen to my father and he struck me!” said the boy. Tears splashed against the ground.

The Master rubbed the boy’s head and said, “I know.”

“Perhaps he saw the marks on my thighs as I kneeled before him,” he thought. The Master calmed the boy down and reminded him to listen to his father from now on. Then, he sent the boy on his way.

Four months after that, the boy returned. “It’s my birthday!” he said.

The Master tossed him a present and said, “I know.”

“I wonder who told him,” he thought. The pair danced around the room and sang merry songs in celebration. Then the Master blessed the boy and sent him home to eat more cake.

Eight months passed before the boy returned. He walked solemnly into the temple and approached the Master.

“Our house caught fire and burned to the ground.”

The Master stood up and hugged the boy. “I know,” he said.

“Word must have traveled here already,” thought the boy. The Master ordered his monks to take some temple donations to the boy’s family. The boy thanked the Master and left with the monks to deliver the supplies.

A year and a half later, the boy returned with more sad news. “Master, my father has been conscripted into the military and sent off to war,” he said.

The Master placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “I know.”

“Perhaps he heard the soldiers marching through town,” thought the boy. The Master consoled the sobbing boy for an hour, served him some tea, and assigned a monk to help the boy’s family in the father’s absence.

Three years later, the boy, now a young man, came to visit the Master. “I found work as a blacksmith’s apprentice,” he said.

He shook the man’s hand and said, “I know.”

“Perhaps he saw the calluses on my hands,” thought the man. The Master gave the man some advice on how to be a good apprentice. They bid each other farewell and the man went on his way.

Three weeks later, the man staggered into the temple, his head down. He raised his gaze to meet the Master’s. “They brought my father home in a casket,” he said.

The Master bowed his head. “I know,” he said.

“Perhaps he heard the funeral rites being recited,” thought the man. The Master listened as the man shared fond memories of his father until the evening. Then the man went on his way.

Two years passed. The man returned, this time holding his head up high. “I’m getting married,” he said.

The Master jumped to his feet and gave the man a big hug. “I know,” he said.

“He must have heard the news from the monk who will conduct the ceremony,” thought the man. The Master blessed him and presented him with gifts for him and his bride. The man departed with tears of happiness in his eyes and his arms full of presents.

Six months went by before the man returned. “I’m going to be a father,” he said as soon as he entered the room.

The Master lit some incense and waved it around the room. “I know,” he said.

“He must be friends with the physician,” thought the man. The pair discussed the man’s plans for providing for his family, how to be a good father, and how to help his wife with the child. The man returned home with confidence.

Seven months came and went before the man returned to the Master. Pale and trembling, he said “My wife and son died during childbirth.”

The Master ran and caught him before he collapsed. “I know,” said the Master.

“He must have seen it in a dream,” thought the man. The Master called his monks and they tended to the man. After two days, he was strong enough to leave.

One year later, the man returned. “I’ve lost my way,” said the man. He slumped against a pillar and slid to the ground. The Master sighed and nodded. “I know,” he said.

“That much must be obvious,” thought the man.

“I will give you a meditation to practice. Listen to the life stories of 100 people. Do not judge them for what they tell you. Do not try to solve their problems. Do not celebrate their victories. Do not lament their defeats. Just listen. Return here when it is done.” So the man departed with his instructions.

Two years later, the man returned to the Master with a faint glint in his eye. He opened his mouth to speak, but the Master interrupted him. “I’m dying,” said the Master.

Compassion welled up in the man’s chest. “I know,” he said. They smiled like two thieves recognizing each other on the road.

The man stayed with the Master until his passing. His final wish was for the man to succeed him as the new Master of the temple. The monks came to speak with him after the funeral. The lead monk approached him and said, “We were surprised by your appointment, having never served as a monk under our Master before. You must have understood a great secret that none of us were able to grasp. We wish for you to transmit that secret to us, that we may better serve you and this temple.”

The new Master motioned for them to sit. “The secret is that all must happen as it does. Compassion arises when we understand that there are no victims and no injustice, only travelers who, despite their desire to the contrary, know there is no other alternative but to endure the turning of the wheel until the process within them is complete.”