Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life

by Karen Armstrong

But in the premodern world, the purpose of myth was not to impart factual or historical information. The Greek mythos derives from the verb musteion, “to close the mouth or the eyes.” It is associated with silence, obscurity, and darkness. A myth was an attempt to express some of the more elusive aspects of life that cannot easily be expressed in logical, discursive speech. A myth is more than history; it is an attempt to explain the deeper significance of an event. A myth has been well described as something that in some sense happened once—but that also happens all the time. It is about timeless, universal truth.

at each stage of his descent into the depths of his mind, he would contemplate what he called the “four immeasurable minds of love,” that “huge, expansive and immeasurable feeling that knows no hatred,” and direct them to the farthest corners of the world, not omitting a single creature from this radius of concern. First, he would evoke maitri (“loving kindness”), inducing in his mind an attitude of friendship for everything and everybody; next he meditated on karuna (“compassion”), desiring that all creatures be free of pain; third, he would bring to his mind mudita, the pure “joy” he had experienced under the rose-apple tree and that he now desired for all creatures; and finally he would try to free himself of personal attachment and partiality by loving all sentient beings with the “even-mindedness” of upeksha. Over time, by dint of disciplined practice, Gotama found that his mind broke free of the prism of selfishness and felt “expansive, without limits, enhanced, without hatred or petty malevolence.”21 He had understood that while spite, hatred, envy, and ingratitude shrink our horizons and limit our creativity, gratitude, compassion, and altruism broaden our perspective and break down the barricades we erect between ourselves and others in order to protect the frightened, greedy, insecure ego.22

The reading of the Bible was, therefore, a highly selective process, and until the early modern period nobody thought of focusing solely on its literal meaning.

Saint Augustine (354–430), one of the most formative theologians in the Western Christian tradition, insisted that scripture taught nothing but charity. Whatever the biblical author may have intended, any passage that seemed to preach hatred and was not conducive to love must be interpreted allegorically and made to speak of charity.73

Tragically, Muhammad found that war had its own deadly dynamic; in the desperate struggle, atrocities were committed by both sides. So as soon as the tide turned in his favor, Muhammad adopted a nonviolent policy, riding unarmed with a thousand unarmed Muslims into enemy territory. There, having narrowly escaped being massacred by the Meccan cavalry, he negotiated a treaty with the Quraysh, accepting terms that seemed to his outraged followers to throw away all the advantages they had gained. Yet that evening, the Qur’an declared that this apparent defeat was a “manifest victory.” While the Quraysh had behaved according to the violent jahili spirit, harboring “stubborn disdain in their hearts,” God had sent down the “gift of inner peace” upon the Muslims, so that they had been able to respond to this assault with calm serenity.83 The treaty that had seemed so unpromising led to a final peace: two years later, in 630, the Meccans voluntarily opened their gates to the Muslims.

When we contemplate the suffering we see on a global scale, we may be embarrassed by the triviality of our own. But it is real to us nonetheless. During this step, make a conscious effort to look back on the events that have caused you distress in the past: the death of a beloved person; moments of loneliness and abject fear; rejections, betrayals, and failures; the unkind remark that hurt you. Make a deliberate effort to inhabit those moments fully and send a message of encouragement and sympathy to your former self. The object of this exercise is not to leave you wallowing in self-pity. The vivid memory of painful times past is a reservoir on which you can draw when you try to live according to the Golden Rule. By remembering your own sorrow vividly, you will make it possible for yourself to feel empathy with others.

This meditation can fit easily into your regular routine and be performed while you are walking the dog, exercising, driving the car, or gazing out of the window of your commuter train. The purpose of meditation is not to make contact with a god or a supernatural being; rather, it is a discipline that helps us to take greater control of our minds and channel our destructive impulses creatively. You will recall that while he was working toward enlightenment, the Buddha devised a meditation that made him conscious of the positive emotions of friendship (maitri), compassion (karuna), joy (mudita), and “even-mindedness” (upeksha) that lay dormant in his mind. He then directed this “immeasurable” love to the ends of the earth. Later he would tell his monks to do the same: When your mind is filled with love, send it in one direction, then a second, a third, and a fourth, then above, then below. Identify with everything without hatred, resentment, anger or enmity. This mind of love is very wide. It grows immeasurably and eventually is able to embrace the whole world.8 Over time, the Buddha found that by constantly activating these positive psychological states he became free of the constrictions of hostility and fear, and that his own mind expanded with the immeasurable power of love. But before you are ready to “embrace the whole world,” you must focus on yourself. Begin by drawing on the warmth of friendship (maitri) that you know exists potentially in your mind and direct it t...

The Western Christian doctrine of atonement—one not held by the Greek Orthodox—is sometimes difficult to understand: it is hard to imagine how a compassionate God would demand such suffering as the price of our salvation. But the French philosopher Peter Abelard (c. 1079–1142) suggested an alternative: when we look at the crucifix, our hearts break in sympathy and fellow feeling—and it is this interior movement of compassion and instinctive empathy that saves us.

Some people deliberately steel their hearts against involvement with other people’s suffering:

But when this happens, it is time to draw upon everything you learned in the last step and recall your own past distress. Remember the things that help you when you are having a bad day—a kind word, a smile, a joke—and try to give that gift to a testy colleague.

In this step, you are going to add three more stages to the meditation on the “immeasurable minds of love.” Again, imagine yourself at the center of a series of concentric circles. Then, after you have directed your friendship, compassion, joy, and even-mindedness toward yourself, turn your attention to three individuals known to you. It is important to be specific or the exercise will degenerate into meaningless generalities. Call to mind in turn a person for whom you have no strong feelings one way or the other; somebody you like, such as a friend or family member; and finally a person you dislike. Call them by name; picture each one of them sitting beside you so that they are vividly present to you. As you direct the four Immeasurables to each one of them in turn, think of their good points, their contribution to your own life; their generosity, courage, and sense of humor. Look deeply into their hearts, insofar as you can, and see their pain: the sufferings you are aware of and all the private sorrows that you will never know about. You will then desire them to be free of their pain and resolve to help them in any way you can. Wish for each of your three people the joy that you desire for yourself, and finally admit that you all have faults—yourself, the person you feel neutral toward, the one you like, as well as the one you find objectionable. You are striving for upeksha, the equanimity that enables you to relate to people impartially.

The meditation obviously becomes more difficult when you try to direct these thoughts of friendship, compassion, joy, and even-mindedness to the person you dislike. Stay with this difficulty and become fully aware of it, because it shows how limited your compassion is. We may think that we are compassionate people, but so much of our goodwill is dependent upon subjective likes and dislikes. Notice the angry thoughts that arise in your mind when you think of this individual and see how unattractive they are. Other people like her, so it is probable that your dislike stems entirely from her attitude toward you. Does she threaten your interests, get in your way, or behave in a manner that makes you think less well of yourself? If so, your dislike is probably based on the ego delusion we considered during the last step. There is nothing immutable or objective about friendship or enmity: nobody is born a friend or an enemy; last year’s friend can become next year’s enemy. She has good and bad qualities, just as you do. Like everybody else in the world, she longs for happiness and wishes to be free of pain. She suffers in ways that you will never know. How, therefore, can you single her out for your dislike and refuse to direct your feelings of friendship, compassion, joy, and even-mindedness to her? Be patient with yourself during this meditation; do not become irritated if you are distracted or discouraged if you seem to make no progress. Do not feel guilty if you are unable t...

unknowing remains an essential part of the human condition. Religion is at its best when it helps us to ask questions and holds us in a state of wonder—and arguably at its worst when it tries to answer them authoritatively and dogmatically. We can never understand the transcendence we call God, Nirvana, Brahman, or Dao; precisely because it is transcendent, it lies beyond the reach of the senses, and is therefore incapable of definitive proof. Certainty about such matters, therefore, is misplaced, and strident dogmatism that dismisses the views of others inappropriate. If we say that we know exactly what “God” is, we could well be talking about an idol, a deity we have created in our own image.

Even though each human being is a “quintessence of dust,” a moribund and in many ways tragic creature,22 he or she remains a godlike marvel and should be accorded absolute respect. Hindus acknowledge this when they greet each other by bowing with joined hands to honor the sacred mystery they are encountering. Yet most of us fail to express this reverence for others in our daily lives. All too often we claim omniscience about other people, other nations, other cultures, and even those we claim to love, and our views about them are frequently colored by our own needs, fears, ambitions, and desires.

Quoting the French philosopher Simone Weil (1903–43), Iris Murdoch (1919–99) used to say that love was the sudden realization that somebody else absolutely exists.

The only person who is fit to rule is the man who has overcome the habit of selfishness: The reason there is great affliction is that I have a self. If I had no self, what affliction would I have? Therefore to one who honours the world as his self The world may be entrusted, And to one who loves the world as one’s self The world may be consigned.7

“Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illumines it.”16