Your Blessings Conceal a Hidden Burden
"When you see another's gain, regard it as your own. When you see another's loss, regard it as your own. Do not expose another's faults; do not flaunt your own strengths."
The Taishang Ganying Pian says: "When you see another's gain, regard it as your own. When you see another's loss, regard it as your own. Do not expose another's faults; do not flaunt your own strengths."
When we see another person's failings, we should feel for them as we would our own. Protect their self-respect, preserve their dignity, and keep what you've seen to yourself. A person who lives this way has a heart of true kindness—and even the heavens will look after them.
During the Southern and Northern Dynasties there lived a man named Fan Yuanyan, well read in the classics, learned and gentle in his bearing.
One day Fan went out and happened to catch someone stealing vegetables from his home. He turned around at once and went back inside. When his mother asked why, he said: "I was afraid the thief would feel ashamed to be seen, and that I would cause him to lose face."
Bamboo grew thick around Fan's house, and each spring the new shoots came in. People would wade across the ditch beside his home to steal them. Feeling sorry for them in the cold water, Fan felled some trees and built a bridge, so anyone coming for the shoots could cross dry-footed instead.
The whole village praised his generous heart, and from then on, thefts stopped altogether.
The court admired his character and learning and summoned him again and again to take office, but he was by nature a man of simple tastes, untouched by ambition, and never went.
Looking back at the natural goodness of people like Fan, and turning to ourselves—what are we to do from here? I suspect each of us already knows the answer.
To speak of another's goodness is itself a good; when they hear of it, they are stirred to try harder.
Praising what someone has done well is itself an act of goodness. And when that person learns of your admiration, they're moved to redouble their efforts.
We study the path of the sages not so we can point out the faults of others, but so we can tend to our own moral and inner life.
The ancients put it well: "In stillness, examine your own faults; in conversation, never speak of another's wrongs." When you sit in quiet, look honestly at yourself—have I spoken out of turn today? Done something I shouldn't? Carried resentment in my heart? If so, repent and set it right at once. And when you're among others, keep your tongue off other people's business.
Once Confucius overheard his student Zigong criticizing someone's faults. He called Zigong over and said, with quiet weight: "Zigong, we should always ask ourselves first whether we have done well ourselves." Then, setting the example by his own words: "As for me, I am so taken up with correcting my own shortcomings that I have no time left to criticize anyone else."
Confucius was ever gentle and compassionate, like a soft breeze, like spring rain soaking into the earth. He didn't say: "Zigong, you're covered in faults yourself—how can you speak of others?" Instead, he turned Zigong's gaze inward, inviting him to look at his own shortcomings.
We shouldn't fixate on the faults in others; we should sincerely honor the good we see in them.
In the Analects, Confucius names three joys that truly benefit a person: delight in the practice of rites and music, delight in speaking of the goodness of others, and delight in having many worthy friends.
He counted among his own joys the simple pleasure of praising what is good in another.
Perhaps someone will protest: How can such plain, easy things be called lofty?
This is one of the reasons Confucius has been honored as a sage by the Chinese people for thousands of years.
Most of us, after all, settle into a group and find it easy to pick apart someone's faults. How many, upon seeing merit in another, speak it out generously and resolve to follow the example? How many, upon meeting someone finer than themselves, think "He is a man, and so am I," and refuse to fall behind?
Delighting in the goodness of others is no small thing. It lifts up the one being praised. It stirs those who overhear to follow suit. And it deepens the well of your own virtue.
To broadcast another's misdeeds far and wide is itself to do harm.
Zigong once asked Confucius whether a person of cultivation also has those he dislikes.
He does, said Confucius, and went on to name four kinds—one of them the sort who spreads others' failings everywhere.
To publicize the misdeeds of others disheartens the listener about the world around them. Heard often enough, it stains the heart. And when you yourself stumble, it becomes easy to shrug and say, "Everyone is rotten—what's one more thing?"
Hence the old teaching to "hide what is evil and lift up what is good"—for this is how a generous heart is cultivated.
The Taishang Ganying Pian says: "What is the Way, go forward; what is not the Way, step back. Tread no crooked paths; deceive no one, even in the dark. Accumulate virtue and merit; let your heart be kind toward all things… When you see another's gain, take it as your own; when you see another's loss, take it as your own. Do not expose another's faults; do not display your own strengths. Halt what is evil and raise up what is good; take the lesser portion and leave the greater. Bear insult without resentment; receive favor with quiet astonishment. In giving kindness, seek no return; in offering help, feel no regret."
A truly wise person knows that cause and effect are no empty words: do the work in the cause, and accept the fruit as it ripens.
Do you remember the well-known parable?
A blind man always carried a lantern when he walked at night. A passerby, curious, called out: You cannot see—why do you carry a light?
The blind man answered: "This lamp is for others, and for myself. It lights their way, and when they can see, they won't bump into me."
The earth bears all things with yielding strength; the gentleman, with abundant virtue, bears all things.
Life is a magnetic field—you can only attract the blessings of the world when you've cultivated yourself to a certain depth.
Zeng Guofan, in his Family Instructions, taught: "Exalt goodness in public; correct faults in private."
That is, praise a person openly before others; correct a person privately, in a place where no one can overhear.
Because we must keep a heart of kindness and protect every person's dignity—we must never leave someone without a place to stand.
The way of friendship rests on what is right. When we have spoken sincerely and a friend still will not hear us, we should stop. Press on again and again, and resentment grows, and the friendship itself is lost. Confucius isn't telling us to abandon the friend; he simply understood that each person's nature ripens at its own pace. If the friend's understanding hasn't reached that point yet, pushing harder will only push them away—the very opposite of what we intended.
A flower has two sides as it opens; Buddha and demon dwell in a single thought.
Human nature has its two ends: good and evil. The wheel of samsara has its two ends: cause and effect. All our sorrows and joys, our ups and downs, are nothing but the turning of this same wheel.
A verse says:
"If you would know your past causes, look at what you now receive. If you would know your future fruits, look at what you now do."
What you're going through now is the fruit of what came before. What you're doing now shapes what comes next.
You are the cause of all that you are; you are the fruit of all that you sow.
The Caigentan observes:
"The foundation of a hundred blessings is no more than a single thought of kindness."
One thought of kindness, one thought of goodness—thought upon thought, virtue deepens, and blessings are sure to follow.
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