On Leniency 饒 from Collection of Rain Blossoms

Leniency is the cave’s opening; empathy is the light beyond. Image: Shutterstock.

In Chinese, 饒 (ráo) means leniency—letting go of another person’s faults and forgiving their mistakes. It is close in meaning to 恕 (shù), empathy, but the two aren't quite the same. Leniency is simply forgiving others. Empathy goes further. It is not only forgiving, but also putting ourselves in the other person’s shoes and, from that perspective, examining our own actions.

That is why the ancients said: to truly practice empathy is to not do to others what we do not wish for ourselves. This teaching shows that empathy is more than leniency—it forgives others, keeps us from harming others, and leads us to self-reflection. That deeper spirit is the true meaning of empathy.

Starting with Leniency

Since empathy is harder to live out, let us begin with what is simpler: leniency. This matters because Buddhism teaches us to pay attention to karma—every action comes back around.

Think of it this way: when someone wrongs us and we hold on to revenge, trying to repay every hurt, the cycle of resentment never ends. It turns into a never-ending chain, one wrong leading straight into the next.

So then, if we can forgive, let us forgive. If we can be lenient, let us be lenient. Those we forgive will naturally feel grateful. And for ourselves, it brings ease—our hearts will not carry grudges, and we will not waste energy on revenge. Our minds will feel open and free, and with that freedom comes great ease. So why not choose that path?

After all, when someone wrongs us, even if we strike back, it never erases the harm that was already done. So why should we make things worse by planting new grudges? Even if we set Buddhism aside, this truth still holds for everyday life. As people often say, “It is better to have one more friend than one more enemy.”

Naturally then, when we live this way, the next step becomes clear: the heart itself begins to widen.

The Fruit of Leniency

When we understand this, we begin to see the goodness of being lenient. A person who can let things go has a wide and generous heart. Such a heart does not hold grudges or drag around old baggage. And when the heart is free like this, it feels light, open, and at peace—a heart like that of an immortal. This is a truth worth holding close and pondering deeply.

饒

 雨花集

濟公活佛

饒者饒恕之謂，亦即寬饒之意，與恕字差不多意思，不過嚴格分析起來，亦有分別。饒就係寬恕別人的罪過，恕就不祇寬恕別人，反之有推己及人之舉，所以古人有云其能恕乎，己所不欲，勿施于人，不獨寬恕人之罪過，反以此而自省，此之謂恕。

饒就談不到後者，今特將饒字來講，而不講恕字，就因饒易做，恕較難行，因為佛注重因果，假使別人有得罪你，而你一定要存報復之心，每事必報，則將來冤冤不息，永不了期，所以能恕則恕，得饒人處且饒人，對於被饒之人，當然衷心感謝，對於自己又方便，因心不掛礙，無報復心存在，自然空空洞洞，得大自在，何樂而不為哉？

況且人得罪了你，縱使你報復了，對於以前之損失已經得不回來，然則何苦又種下冤仇，撇開學佛不講，做人亦復如是，所謂多一個朋友，好過多一位仇人也。明乎此理，便可知饒人之好處，而且能夠饒人者，心量必廣，心無宿物，心無宿物即神仙，此語頗堪細味也。

A Personal Reflection

This is such a useful lesson in everyday life. Many of our unhappy moments come because someone has done something wrong to us—whether at home, at work, at school, on the road, or even in a store. There’s always something someone does that rubs us the wrong way, sometimes small, sometimes big. And we often feel justified in our anger, because from our point of view, we are in the right.

Even when we are upset, that feeling of being right can make us feel strangely good, though it may not seem so at first because we are so angry. I know this is true because I notice how hard it is to let go of that “I am right” feeling. Instead of fading, it just digs in and gets stronger the longer I hold on to it. My view becomes narrower, and eventually I lose perspective. Then there’s no question—the next thing I do or say will be reactive, not responsive.

What I’ve found helpful is to soften the tightness in the body and the narrowing of the mind through practicing leniency. At first it may feel contrived, as if I am forcing myself to be lenient. It can still feel like I’m being stepped all over and just can’t shake it off. Yet if I am willing to give it a try, leniency can gradually open the way toward empathy. For me, it often happens as a kind of continuum: I start with leniency, then move naturally toward empathy.

Once I reach empathy—when I truly see that I might have acted in the very same way if I were in the other person’s shoes—the frustration begins to dissolve. I realize that if I, too, were caught up in craving, aversion, and ignorance, it’s no surprise I would act the same way. And then, I begin to notice the same tendencies within myself, times when I am also moved by craving, aversion, or ignorance. When this hits me, the hardness melts, and what’s left is simply a wish to connect with that person as another human being.

With this practice over time, I have fewer unhappy moments. And as I am writing this reflection now, I suddenly realize how it connects to the very first chapter. At first, the two seemed unrelated, but now their connection feels natural and necessary.

We begin with “the mind itself is a buddha,” which points to the four pure states of the mind. But if we do not practice leniency and empathy, it is impossible to preserve those pure states. So the small practice of leniency becomes the great practice of preserving the Buddha-mind.

This translated text is a chapter from Collection of Rain Blossoms, a scripture written by JiGong Living Buddha in the 1900s through spirit writing. Here the link to the original Chinese source.

If you are interested in other chapters of this book, here is the link to the table of contents.