Compassion Guided by Wisdom
Today we are going to talk about compassion, and there are some stories in Buddha’s life which are not very widely known, which paint a picture of compassion that is very different from the picture that a seeker carries, or what we have been taught about compassion.
The ideal picture of compassion is an awakened being, a saint who is always available, who never says no, who keeps their doors open no matter how demanding it is.
Seekers try to follow that ideal in different forms. In this vision, in this perception, love means permanent availability, patience means endless tolerance, and compassion means smiling and letting go even if the chaos around you keeps growing.
But Buddha did not teach that. He taught compassion that also followed wisdom and intelligence, and he taught that there were moments when the most compassionate act is to step back.
So I’ll talk about the three times when Buddha walked away. Generally, an enlightened being is not supposed to walk away, right? But the Buddha did.
These stories will show the different forms compassion can take. They also talk about the limits of persuasion and what happens when truth refuses to become sentimental.
The First Story: Upaka
The first story is about Upaka.
This is when Buddha had freshly attained enlightenment, and he was walking towards Sarnath to find his previous group of fellow disciples who had been with him. On the way, the Buddha met a person named Upaka.
When Upaka saw Buddha, he saw something in him. He saw his face, the clarity, the light, the brightness, the calmness.
Upaka was also a spiritual seeker, so he asked Buddha, “Who is your teacher? Whose teaching do you follow?” etc.
The Buddha answered with one of the most outrageous sentences. He said, “I have no teacher. I am awake through my own seeing.” And he said, “There is no one like me.”
Upaka looked at him. He could see there was something in Buddha, heard his words, shook his head, and said, “It may be so.”
And he walked away.
Now this was the first person who met Buddha after his enlightenment.
You see, Buddha didn’t follow him. Buddha didn’t ask him to stay and understand the teaching. He just let the man go.
So Buddha is standing on the road holding the most precious knowledge in human history, and the first man he encounters says, “OK, that’s what it is.”
He turns around and goes, and Buddha doesn’t stop him.
That encounter ends.
This matters a lot for spiritual seekers because, on some level, we feel that we need to share this teaching, this wisdom, this peace, this treasure that we have found.
That’s what a compassionate person would do, right?
We also feel that if someone loves us, they will listen. We think, “If our compassion is pure enough, if our truth is virtuous enough, the other person should recognize it.”
But you can stand in front of someone carrying freedom, and they can still turn away. That is their free will.
It is not uncompassionate to let them go.
Even in your everyday life—with your spouse, your partner, your colleagues—there are situations where you think, “This is the right thing to do.”
Buddha knew this was the right path, but Upaka was not ready to receive it.
Buddha understood that situation, that condition. He made a judgement, and he let him go.
In daily life, there might be situations where you have all the compassion and goodness in your heart to help someone.
If someone is not ready to receive it, you’re not becoming unkind or moving away from the path of love if you let them go and allow them to take their own path.
Now this is something that is a bit contradictory, or at least not what a spiritual seeker usually thinks about helping others.
For us, helping means we should always be available, and we should try our best to help someone, and that is compassion.
Then why did Buddha just let the first person walk away?
This first story teaches the hard lesson that a person has the right to say no to you.
The second lesson is that walking away is not always abandonment.
The Second Story: Devadatta
Now the second story is also very interesting.
Buddha’s cousin, Devadatta, was always against him, and he tried three times to kill Buddha.
This is really strange.
For every teacher who has walked the earth, or is walking the earth, there is someone who will be completely against them—like Jesus or Buddha.
Even Ramana Maharshi’s first manager eventually turned completely against him. Earlier he was a great disciple, but later he spread a lot of rumours about Ramana Maharshi as well.
So anyway, the second story is about Devadatta.
Devadatta tried to kill Buddha three times. He was unsuccessful, so he came up with a very cunning plan.
He wanted to divide the Sangha. He wanted to create division.
So he came to the Sangha when everyone was present with a proposal.
That proposal was to add five more rules which would increase the austerity and supposed purity of all the monks.
These five rules included things like: monks must dwell in the forest until death, they must live only on alms gathered by begging, they must sleep at the foot of trees, etc.
On the surface, these rules sound very holy and virtuous.
He was increasing austerity. He was trying to make the monks purer.
Why would you object to a man asking for greater purity?
Of course, that was the design, because Devadatta knew Buddha would refuse.
Buddha was always for the Middle Path.
So when Devadatta came up with this proposal, Buddha said no.
He refused.
Another lesson here is that saying no is part of compassion as well.
If he had said yes simply to please Devadatta, or to adhere to that symbolism of the compassionate being who always says yes and never draws boundaries, he would not have been acting wisely.
Instead, he drew a clear boundary.
He said no.
When he said no, Devadatta stood up in front of the community and declared, “I am the person who is holding true austerity and virtue. Who is going to follow me?”
He walked out with a couple of hundred monks behind him.
The Sangha split into two parts.
If Buddha had accepted those conditions, of course the Sangha would not have broken apart.
But Buddha’s refusal became the cause of that division.
Can you see the difficult choices here?
One choice is: I agree to his demands and keep the Sangha together.
Or I say no, maintain my boundaries, and that results in division.
These are very practical examples.
While Buddha was running the Sangha, he was dealing with everyday conflict and everyday situations that were not black and white. They involved real trade-offs.
Buddha stood up and did what he believed was right.
He would not purchase unity at the cost of abandoning the path he had taught.
Compassion will sometimes refuse.
Compassion will sometimes say no.
And that is OK.
As seekers, you will sometimes have to choose between being good and looking good—between living truthfully and maintaining an image of virtue.
Buddha was already seen as a symbol of austerity and virtue.
Devadatta wanted to push that image even further.
Similarly, you may have an image of yourself as a good person, a compassionate person, a kind person.
That label—that identity—can become a trap.
Then you have to keep up that image because, if you don’t, people might turn against you or leave you.
The same thing happened with Buddha.
Buddha said no, and people left because they had an image of him as someone who should always be more virtuous, more austere, or whatever they imagined.
They felt Buddha was not living up to those expectations.
So they left.
And that’s OK.
Sometimes people may think you’re not living up to the identity they have created for you.
They may leave.
And it is compassionate to let them go.
The Third Story: Expelling Monks from the Sangha
The third story is about Buddha expelling monks from the Sangha.
The Vinaya, the record of monastic discipline, states very clearly that Buddha actually expelled monks from the community.
This idea does not fit the image of Buddha that many people carry—the Buddha of the monasteries, the garden statue, the smiling Buddha, the calm Buddha, the Buddha who forgives everything and asks nothing.
If he was throwing people out, doesn’t that go against forgiveness?
If someone broke a rule, wouldn’t a compassionate person simply forgive them rather than expel them?
Why did Buddha throw people out?
We want a Buddha who only forgives.
We want a Buddha who only includes.
We want a Buddha who always rehabilitates.
We want a Buddha who always keeps everyone inside the container, no matter the damage.
But Buddha did not follow this image or ideal that we have created.
He drew a line.
Not because compassion had ended.
Sometimes that line, that boundary, is compassion.
You will encounter these kinds of situations in your own life as well.
Of course, you have to understand that when Buddha did these things, there was no malice in his heart.
There was no anger or hatred.
He saw the situation, and he responded to it without labels such as compassion, love, or kindness.
He simply saw what was the right thing to do—what would bring about balance and harmony.
Then he took that action, even though that action seemed uncompassionate or appeared to go against compassion.
Even in your everyday life, you will encounter situations where you’ll have to use wisdom and intelligence, and it’s OK to draw boundaries.
Sometimes it is OK.
The main thing is to look into your own heart.
Do you have malice?
Do you have hatred?
Do you have anger?
Or is the space inside you gentle and loving?
You can be very loving inside, but your outward actions and demeanour might appear cold or uncompassionate.
That is fine.
That’s what Buddha did.
His heart was full of love and compassion, but the form that compassion took externally was very different from the image of compassion that we carry in our minds.
So instead of holding on to these identities—and we spiritual people do hold on to these identities, like “I’m endlessly forgiving,” “I never give up,” “I’m always compassionate”—it is better to let go of those identities.
Meet the moment as it is.
Then take the actions that restore harmony and balance, not only in your own life but also in the lives of those around you.