Following up my discussion of compassion empathy and sympathy, there is a Buddhist story that shines a light on sympathy, empathy, and compassion. In this story, a woman named Kisagotami has a beloved only child—an infant son—who dies suddenly. She goes mad with grief and carries the lifeless body of her child through the village, wildly beseeching her neighbors to give her the medicine that will revive him. All know that no such medicine exists and are at a loss to help her—some pity her and try to talk sense into her to no avail; others empathize but then shut their doors to her because her raw pain is too much for them to bear.
Finally, a compassionate wise elder sends Kisagotami to see the Buddha, who tells her he can give her medicine, but only after she brings back a handful of mustard seeds from a home that has experienced no death. So Kisagotami sets out again, moving from house to house. She can’t, however, find anyone who can help her, because people in every house have endured a devastating loss—of a parent, child, spouse, or beloved.
As night falls, Kisagotami’s understanding dawns. She goes into the forest to bury her son and then returns to the Buddha, brought to her senses by the power of his empathy and his compassionate solution and now she feels for her neighbors and herself. She understands that her grief is not unique, that she’s in the good company of all those who have also loved and lost. She understands the reality of our interconnectedness and finds solace in our shared humanity.
