Healing After Harm: A Buddhist Contribution to Contemporary Theological Discourses on Forgiveness and Reconciliation

Abstract

Taking as its departure point the urgent calls for nonviolence and reconciliation articulated by Pope Francis and Pope Leo XIV, this paper examines how Buddhist philosophy provides a systematized framework for understanding and enacting nonviolence, forgiveness, and healing after harm. While papal teachings offer a critical diagnostic of contemporary geopolitical division, militarism, and systemic inequality, a Buddhist lens deepens this discourse by illuminating the internal, psychological mechanisms required for genuine reconciliation. Drawing across Theravāda, Mahāyāna, and Tibetan traditions, this paper investigates three key dimensions: first, how Buddhist ethics conceptualizes forgiveness as an active, transformative engagement rooted in the brahmavihāras; second, how mind-training methods such as those detailed in the Vitakkasaṇṭhāna Sutta and Lojong offer concrete tools to convert afflictive anger into compassionate understanding; and third, how these interior practices inform nonviolence education in contexts of structural injustice, demonstrating that authentic reconciliation must resist forced resolution and instead emerge through an embodied awareness of interbeing.

1. Introduction

Our world is in a state of profound geopolitical division, and both Catholic social teachings (especially under Pope Francis and Pope Leo XIV) and Buddhism share a diagnosis for our current crisis: deepened social and economic divide on one hand, and the spread of systemic violence. In his 2020 encyclical Fratelli Tutti, Pope Francis observes that while European and Latin American societies appeared to be moving toward greater integration for some time, recent years have revealed a troubling regression in our collective sense of community. This fragmentation manifests in multiple ways: dormant conflicts have resurged, nationalist ideologies have fractured societies, and a form of globalism has enriched the powerful while rendering vulnerable communities increasingly precarious. Yet perhaps most alarming is the steady advancement of weapons and technologies capable of destruction on an unprecedented scale. It is precisely against this trajectory that Francis argues:

“We can no longer think of war as a solution, because its risks will probably always be greater than its supposed benefits. In view of this, it is very difficult nowadays to invoke the rational criteria elaborated in earlier centuries to speak of the possibility of a “just war”. Never again war!”

(Francis 2020, sec. 258)

This was not the first occasion on which Francis addressed the pervasive violence and existential threat posed by nuclear weapons proliferation. In his 2017 message for the 50th World Day of Peace, he acknowledges that while contemporary violence may not rival the scale of the World Wars, it has become more diffuse and insidious, manifesting through human trafficking, terrorism, forced migration, and organized crime, among others. Francis contends that the response must be fundamentally nonviolent, integrating both spiritual and political dimensions (Francis 2017, sec. 2).

Pope Francis emphasizes two interconnected dimensions of nonviolence. First, he resists the impulse to retaliate; countering violence with violence perpetuates cycles of suffering rather than resolving them. Second, he argues that genuine nonviolence begins in the heart and rests on mutual responsibility, respect, and willingness to dialogue—grounded in the intention to forgive and foster conditions for human flourishing. Pope Leo XIV reinforces this vision in his May 2026 homily, framing Jesus’s reconciliation of humanity and God through the lens of forgiveness. For both pontiffs, forgiveness is not peripheral to nonviolence; it is foundational to restoring peace and the common good.

The Dalai Lama (2021) identifies a parallel diagnosis: contemporary society fragments through identity politics and divisive “us versus them” framings, compounded by environmental neglect and nuclear proliferation. In response, he argues that despite our fractured sense of community, we remain interdependent and must learn to live together consciously, as one humanity. This echoes Pope Francis’s emphasis on family as our first relational ground, as they both view all humans as our brothers and sisters, worthy of loving-kindness and compassion.

Thich Nhat Hanh developed this vision through the concept of interbeing—the recognition that we are not separate individuals but interconnected both with one another and with the wider world. In Zen and the Art of Saving the Planet (Thich Nhat Hanh 2021), he deepens this insight by emphasizing that collective peace and awakening cannot be imposed externally; they require personal transformation first. We must transform our anger and afflictions so that we can authentically help others transform theirs, creating the conditions for systemic change.

Buddhist ethics grounds this relational and transformative vision in concrete practice. Non-harm (ahimsa) is the first moral precept, and anger and hatred are understood as the primary destroyers of happiness. Rather than suppressing these destructive emotions, Buddhist teachings prescribe active cultivation of their opposites; within the Theravāda tradition, the Nikāyas—the collections of discourses that make up the Pāli Canon—offer key insights on these points. The Samyutta Nikaya warns: “Do not let anger overpower you; do not become angry at those who are angry. Non-anger and harmlessness always dwell within the hearts of the noble ones” (SN 11.25). The Anguttara Nikaya, on the other hand, while more prescriptive, emphasizes the importance of removing all resentment for people regardless of their actions, and to do that through developing loving-kindness, compassion, and equanimity toward those we resent (AN 5.161).1

What emerges from both Catholic social teaching and Buddhist philosophy is a shared diagnostic: individualism and narrow group identities generate social violence, which eventually expands and manifests in war and the expansion of deadly arsenals. Both traditions reject retaliation and harm as responses; instead, they advocate for non-retaliation grounded in compassion, a stance the Dhammapada crystallizes thus: “Hatred can never put an end to hatred; love alone can” (Dhp. 1.5).2 This convergence suggests that forgiveness and reconciliation are central to breaking cycles of violence. Moreover, Buddhist teachings offer a systematized path for transforming the anger and mental afflictions that perpetuate harm, thereby enabling both personal and collective healing.

This paper takes these convergences as its starting point, and drawing on Buddhist teachings asks: how can Buddhist philosophy illuminate the relationship between forgiveness, reconciliation, and nonviolence in ways that deepen our understanding of healing after harm? Bringing Theravāda, Mahāyāna, and Tibetan Buddhist traditions into dialogue, the following sections examine three dimensions of this question. First, I explore how Buddhist ethics conceptualizes forgiveness as an active, transformative practice rooted in compassion. Second, I analyze how Buddhist mind-training offers concrete methods for converting anger and resentment into conditions for genuine reconciliation. Finally, I consider what these teachings contribute to contemporary nonviolence education, particularly in contexts marked by structural injustice, where forgiveness must emerge from authentic inner transformation.

2. The Conceptualization of Forgiveness as an Active, Transformative Practice

Although the concept of forgiveness is not explicit in such a manner within Buddhist discourses, a number of texts examine it from the perspective of how we might react to others’ harm or aggression. Within the Pali-English Dictionary (Rhys Davids and Stede [1921–1925] 1972), we find the concept of khanti, which is often translated as patience or forbearance. Wakefield (2022) further situates this as our “capacity to let go of interpersonal resentment and to cultivate a quality of acceptance and forgiveness” (p. 282). Harvey (1990), for instance, illustrates this by detailing a practical use of this concept by Buddhist communities in Thailand, in which the practitioner, rather than asking for forgiveness, requests acceptance of their wrong actions or transgressions. At the same time, this patience and acceptance are founded in our capacity to view and engage with others through a kinder lens. In Buddhist philosophy, therefore, practicing forgiveness as we commonly understand it requires moving past mere acceptance and into an active, compassionate engagement with the world; such engagement is shaped by intentional mental states or dispositions that can be developed and trained: loving-kindness (metta), compassion (karuna), sympathetic joy (mudita) and equanimity (upeksha). These dispositions, collectively known as the brahmaviharas or Four Divine Abodes, are a direct antidote to anger, jealousy and impatience. Thich Nhat Hanh (2011) situates each of them as the key components of true love; because, from a Buddhist point of view, love is an engaged, sustained activity rather than a feeling, they require constant attention and nurturing through meditation. And here I believe it is essential to recognize first the deep emotional and spiritual damage caused by anger and hatred. One of the most powerful classical sources on this topic is the Bodhicaryāvatāra, written by the eighth-century Indian monk Śāntideva. In this influential guide to the bodhisattva3 path, which focuses deeply on patience and mindful introspection, he writes:

Those tormented by the pain of anger

will never know tranquility of the mind—

strangers they will be to every pleasure;

Sleep departs them, they can never rest.

(BCA 6.4)

Śāntideva warns that a single burst of anger can utterly destroy years of positive effort and spiritual growth, an insight frequently highlighted in modern commentaries by contemporary teachers like the Dalai Lama (1997) and Chödron (2001). Therefore, choosing to forgive out of love is a vital way to break a destructive pattern that brings suffering to everyone involved. And this love, from a Buddhist perspective, can be steadily developed through the intentional cultivation of the brahmaviharas, since both anger that prevents forgiveness and the love that brings it forth reside in the mind.

We should also note that forgiveness alone does not constitute reconciliation. Buddhist texts also specify the conditions under which relationships and communities are actively sustained in concord: the Kosambiya Sutta (MN 48) and the Sāraṇīya Sutta (AN 6.11–12) both enumerate six ‘principles of cordiality,’ which the Buddha describes as ‘memorable qualities’ that create love and respect. Such qualities are expressed through bodily, mental and verbal acts of loving-kindness both in private and in public life, aimed at enhancing interpersonal and community relations, as the practice of these qualities is conducive to unity and absence of conflict.

A powerful example of patience and acceptance as an active practice of forgiveness is found in a sutta called The Simile of the Saw (Kakacūpama Sutta). This discourse is unflinching in its mapping of the psychological boundaries of forbearance, particularly when confronting direct violence. The text illustrates this ethical standard through a stark thought experiment:

“Monks, even if bandits were to sever you savagely limb by limb with a two-handled saw, he who gave rise to a mind of hate towards them would not be carrying out my teaching.”

(MN 21.20)

Rather than prescribing a non-response, the sutta commands a psychological pivot from defensiveness and anger to radical benevolence:

“Our minds will remain unaffected, and we shall utter no evil words; we shall abide compassionate for their welfare, with a mind of loving-kindness, without inner hate. We shall abide pervading them with a mind imbued with loving-kindness […] abundant, exalted, immeasurable, without hostility and without ill-will.”

(MN 21.20)

This sutta also underscores the unconditionality of this ethical disposition: forgiveness is not passive resignation, but an active, compassionate engagement. Grounding this view in contemporary monastic psychology, Chödron (2013) notes that forgiveness does not preclude structural or personal accountability when the situation merits it; rather, it demands that we navigate harmful circumstances stripped of anger or vengeance. This operates on two profound insights. First, it recognizes that the perpetrator is ultimately a victim of their own mental afflictions and suffering, thereby requiring compassion rather than retaliation. Second, it shifts the locus of ethical agency inward, acknowledging that our experiential reality is ultimately shaped far less by the external actions of others than by our own internal interpretations and responses.

The Lotus Sutra (Watson 1993) provides a narrative illustration of this radical ethical disposition through the figure of the Bodhisattva Never Disparaging. Rather than devoting himself to traditional scriptural recitation, this monk engaged in bowing to everyone he encountered, affirming their latent spiritual potential. In response, others routinely insulted, abused, and dismissed him as ignorant over many years. Yet Never Disparaging refused to let hostility compromise his conviction in people’s capacity for enlightenment. When his life was subsequently extended and he was granted the supernatural capacity to expound the Dharma, his former abusers ultimately became his disciples. This narrative underscores that the practice of forgiveness demands the capacity to endure disparagement without ego and retaliatory anger. Because the Mahāyāna tradition asserts the presence of tathāgatagarbha (Buddha-nature)—the inherent purity of all sentient beings—every individual remains fundamentally worthy of reverence. Consequently, ethical disagreement must not degrade into harmful thoughts or actions directed at others; rather, it must be engaged through the transformative lens of compassion.

3. Mind-Training Methods for Converting Anger into Conditions for Reconciliation

Having expounded on the concept of forgiveness, the question arises: how can these dispositions be cultivated and enacted in real-life conditions?

From a Buddhist standpoint, our inability to forgive is rooted in the anger that lies deep in our consciousness. We do not choose to become angry when harm comes our way, but we are often unable to understand how this anger and its physiological and psychological manifestations emerge. Anger, in turn, drives us towards retribution, vindictiveness and violence. In the aforementioned Bodhicaryavatara, Śāntideva (1997) paves the path towards understanding, transforming and responding to anger. Certainly, these responses require a certain level of introspection, the ability to examine ourselves and to understand others and the reasons they might behave the way they do. The first of these insights concerns our need to fully grasp the ‘nature’ of the person whose anger is manifesting:

(39) Even if it were the nature of the childish

To cause harm to other beings

It would still be incorrect to be angry with them

for this would be like begrudging fire for having the nature to burn.

(40) And even if the fault were temporary

In those who are by nature reliable,

It would still be incorrect to be angry,

For this would be like begrudging space for allowing smoke to rise in it.

(BCA 6.39–6.40)

There are three aspects that are worth highlighting and which are present throughout the Bodhicaryavatara’s chapter on patience. The first, as I have noted, is the recognition of anger as a destructive force in a practitioner’s life; the second, which connects very specifically with forgiveness, is the understanding that a person who harms us is driven by causes and conditions that are often outside the sphere of their control. And the third is that patience and forbearance are an actively trained and cultivated disposition. As Śāntideva points out:

There is no evil like hatred,

And no fortitude like patience.

Thus I should strive in various ways

To meditate on patience.

(BCA 6.2)

With this understanding, it is in the Vitakkasanthāna Sutta (MN 21) that we find a direct path to engage in such cultivation; this sutta constitutes an invitation to pay close attention to our internal state so we can recognize when hate arises, and offers a five-step cognitive framework to face and overcome unwholesome thoughts, including hate:

1.

Substitution

The sutta uses the analogy of a skilled person removing a coarse peg using a finer one to signify recognizing when an unskillful thought arises and replacing the enmity of anger with loving-kindness.

2.

Examine the dangers of anger

This point urges us to scrutinize the dangers of holding unwholesome thoughts by likening them to the disgust of carrying a carcass around our neck; this recognition allows for quieting and steadying of the mind.

3.

Withdraw attention

The next aspect of the framework concerns withdrawing attention from the source of unwholesomeness. The sutta concretely calls for “forgetting and not giving attention” to thoughts connected with lust, hate and delusion using the analogy of closing our eyes; such attention deprivation allows for our mind to become still.

4.

Practice stillness

By using the analogy of shifting our physical activity from walking quickly to lying down in order to still the body, the sutta urges us to move from the gross to the subtle by stilling our thoughts, thus allowing the mind activity connected with anger to subside.

5.

Forcible restraint

Recognizing that there might be a time of “when all else fails”, the sutta also provides a measure of last resort by simply using our willpower to crush our anger:

“Suppose that mendicant is focusing on stopping the formation of those thoughts, but bad, unskillful thoughts connected with desire, hate, and delusion keep coming up. With teeth clenched and tongue pressed against the roof of the mouth, they should squeeze, squash, and crush mind with mind”

(MN 20)

Table 1 below shows a synthesis of these points:

Table 1. Cognitive strategies to still the mind.

Strategy	Sutta Analogy	Mechanism	Nonviolence Application
① Substitution	Fine peg drives out coarse one	Cognitive replacement—from negative to positive	Replace hostility with loving-kindness
② Scrutinise Drawbacks	Rotting carcass around the neck	Moral disgust; recognition of the suffering caused	Anger becomes a burden, not righteousness
③ Withdraw Attention	Closing eyes to avoid unpleasant sight	Attention deprivation through deliberate non-engagement	Refuse to ruminate on grievance
④ Practice Stillness	Slowing from fast walk → lying down	De-escalate physiological arousal	Calm nervous system before acting
⑤ Forcible Restraint	Strong man seizes weaker by the throat	Pure willpower; last-resort suppression	Prevent imminent violence when all else fails

Adapted from the Vitakkasanthāna Sutta (MN 20).

The importance of cultivating loving-kindness and dwelling repeatedly in this disposition is also emphasized by Buddhaghosa, a fifth-century Buddhist monk whose commentaries became the standard, authoritative systematization of Theravāda doctrine and practice. In his influential compendium of Buddhist practice, the Visuddhimagga (Buddhaghosa 2010), he posits that control of harmful bodily, mental and verbal behavior emerges precisely by dwelling repeatedly in loving-kindness and by constantly reviewing its advantages. Having said this, it is perhaps in the Tibetan teachings of Lojong, or the Seven-Point Mind Training (Kongtrül 1987), that we find the most radical approach to the transformation of anger through love and compassion. While a full analysis and dissection of the Lojong would be beyond the scope of this paper, for our purposes, I will focus specifically on the taking and giving meditation.

To put it concisely, the taking and giving meditation (Tonglen) focuses on cultivating a compassionate mindset towards all beings. Because compassion (karuna) is the desire to alleviate the suffering of sentient beings through the honest recognition of sentient beings’ difficult conditions, this is one of the most essential components in the practice of forgiveness and reconciliation. The meditation instructions state:

Train in taking and sending alternately.

Put them on the breath (p. 14)

The “taking in” is the act of imagining, as we breathe in, that we are collecting the evil and suffering of all beings and absorbing it in our heart; on the out-breath, we picture that all our happiness and virtue is taken in and internalized by all sentient beings. We do this while contemplating their liberation from suffering, and we repeat the taking in and sending out alternately throughout our meditation; mindful awareness allows us to continue this practice in daily life so it becomes integrated into our relationships.4

While this might seem like a radical practice, it is important to note two things. The first is that, as Fukuyama (2020) is keen to point out, identity politics has succeeded in creating the illusion of separateness, and much of the geopolitical conflict we are experiencing is precisely on those grounds. Individuals, groups and even nations have become more entrenched in a narrower concept of self and group identity, effectively creating a sense of “us” versus “them” that has allowed for much social violence to occur. And yet, as Thich Nhat Hanh (2020) reminds us, once we are able to deconstruct that illusion, we can see that we are not separate from one another: we inter-are. Our lives are deeply intertwined, and what we do and how we live impacts others through ripples that we might not always be aware of. No one is intrinsically violent; people engage in violence and harmful acts through a series of causes and conditions that are often outside their control, and the practice of forgiveness requires that recognition so we can move beyond the “us” versus “them” binary. It is through that recognition, and by fostering loving connections, that we can repair relationships and build community. The practice of Tonglen goes precisely to the heart of this by undoing the binary and allowing our mind to dwell in a type of radical love and compassion: one that is offered and given through a non-discriminative lens. Thich Nhat Hanh (2007) best exemplified this in the first of the Five Mindfulness Trainings:

Aware of the suffering caused by the destruction of life, I am committed to cultivating the insight of interbeing and compassion and learning ways to protect the lives of people, animals, plants, and minerals. I am determined not to kill, not to let others kill, and not to support any act of killing in the world, in my thinking, or in my way of life. Seeing that harmful actions arise from anger, fear, greed, and intolerance, which in turn come from dualistic and discriminative thinking, I will cultivate openness, non-discrimination, and non-attachment to views in order to transform violence, fanaticism, and dogmatism in myself and in the world. (p. 13)

While mind-training methods such as the Vitakkasanthāna Sutta and Tonglen offer robust interior tools for converting personal anger, an important philosophical question remains: how do these internal practices address wrongdoing when harm is not merely interpersonal, but embedded in historical trauma and structural injustice? As I have argued before (Bacquet and Nesterova 2026), nonviolence cannot remain confined to a personal disposition, as it risks reducing forgiveness to a tool of quietism that demands that victims reconcile with ongoing oppression. As both Catholic social teaching and Engaged Buddhism maintain, the practice of nonviolence requires bridging personal transformation with structural critique. In the final section, I examine how Buddhist philosophy conceptualizes nonviolence education in contexts of systemic injury, demonstrating how the interior transformation of mental afflictions provides the necessary foundation for confronting institutionalized harm, dismantling binary polarization, and seeking true reconciliation.

4. Forgiveness Through the Embodiment of Nonviolence

In The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, Lyotard (1979) posits that Modernity succeeded in creating grand meta-narratives: overarching stories used to explain the human condition at a universal level. Postmodernism challenges these meta-narratives by recognizing that these worldviews are not self-evident truths, but perspectives individually and socially constructed. As our world becomes increasingly secularized, Loy (2003) argues that no meta-narrative has come under greater scrutiny than religion. Yet, the birth of nation-states, the consolidation of corporate capitalism, the development of high-tech warfare, and the positioning of market-based ideologies at the center of human activity have produced structures of profound injustice and inequality. These systemic conditions render forgiveness a concrete necessity rather than an abstract behavioral ideal. The question then arises: what can religion—and specifically Buddhism—offer beyond personal transformation? Can the cultivation of inner dispositions guide the process of social transformation?

The first contribution I would like to note is the Buddhist perspective concerning human relations; I have noted how identity politics has been effective at driving a divisive discourse amongst groups by highlighting all the ways in which we are different but, importantly, the ways in which others do not belong. However, as King (2021) notes, a fundamental premise of Buddhist ethics is overcoming the “felt distance between self and other” through the recognition of deep interdependence (p. 53). Existing structures feed an “us” versus “them” mentality, yet Buddhism approaches this chasm through active love. Thich Nhat Hanh (2024) observes in Love in Action that while conflict is propelled by fear and ignorance, nonviolent action—including structural forgiveness—must be fueled by love to effectively challenge systemic harm.

From a Buddhist perspective, “Otherness” is itself a form of delusion rooted in constructed separation. Human diversity—in skin color, cultural origin, and social norms—is real, but conflict arises from the ideological meaning aggregated to these differences and the institutional structures built around them. In his book Interconnected (2017), and using the analogy of a tree, the Karmapa, Ogyen Trinley Dorje, notes that although we differ at the level of branches, this is where we find diversity, and one that is beneficial: what would be the point if all branches were exactly the same? At the deepest level, however—the roots of the tree—we are equal. He reinforces this point further here:

As we live our lives as equals within interdependence, we manifest different cultural assumptions and different religious views or philosophies of life. This diversity greatly enhances the richness of human culture that we can all learn and benefit from. We differ in terms of our lifestyles, our opinions, our gender identities, our racial characteristics, our bodies and in countless other ways. These differences do not undermine or subtract from our human equality; they do not make us more or less human”

(Dorje 2017, p. 79)

Consequently, nonviolence education serves as a bridge-building practice: while recognizing our differences, it deconstructs the illusion of separation, ensuring that forgiveness can emerge authentically as the reestablishment of right relationships.

A second issue affecting us today that requires a forgiving outlook concerns inequality. Both Pope Francis in Dilexit Nos (2024) and Pope Leo XIV in Dilexi Te (2025a) highlight that the unchecked autonomy of the marketplace has consolidated “structures of sin” (Francis 2024, sec. 183; Leo XIV 2025a, sec. 93). This economic tyranny rewards a privileged few while systematically excluding the vulnerable, fostering social alienation where those with fewer resources are devalued as less than human and often excluded from social participation.

Responding to this kind of structural exclusion, forgiveness demands the practice of solidarity and generosity grounded in an understanding of human suffering; we find evidence of this as early as 1971. Thich Nhat Hanh wrote a well-known letter to the United Nations asking for divesting resources allocated to nuclear weapons and to reallocate them towards fighting world hunger. “As individuals–he notes–we must also assume responsibility and lend our efforts and our hearts to the work of ending human suffering and building human solidarity […] I strongly urge these friends to work to create jobs that nurture the peace and well-being of humanity in order to offer alternative employment to those engaged in the manufacture and sale of the weapons that, even at this moment are destroying the lives of people all over the world” (Thich Nhat Hanh 2024, p. 74). The example here is particularly poignant, since he wrote this exhortation as his own country was being heavily bombed and as Vietnamese people died in the millions; rather than instigating retribution or organizing a call to armed resistance, he saw the vast amounts of human suffering and resorted to calling for compassionate action from those engaged in the expansion of war.

Within the Pāli Buddhist scriptures, the Nidāna Saṃyutta (SN 12.1) sets out the foundational formulation of dependent origination (paṭiccasamuppāda): the principle that what we experience arises through specific causes and conditions rather than in isolation. Neither we nor our lived experience exist in a vacuum: a complex web of interconnected conditions gives rise to everything that comes to pass. This also means that how we act contributes to the conditions others experience, and, as Dorje (2017) points out, part of our responsibility as sentient beings is to consider how our actions or inactions affect the lives of others. This stance is further highlighted in Nhat Hanh’s teachings on Interbeing, which I referred to earlier in this article. A fundamental element of this relationship of interconnection—one in which we inter-are—is precisely the practice of generosity:

Aware of the suffering caused by exploitation, social injustice, stealing, and oppression, we are committed to cultivating generosity in our way of thinking, speaking, and acting. We will practice loving-kindness by working for the happiness of people, animals, plants and minerals, and sharing our time, energy, and material resources with those who are in need. We are determined not to steal and not to possess anything that should belong to others. We will respect the property of others, but we will try to prevent others from profiting from human suffering or the suffering of other beings”

(Thich Nhat Hanh 2020, p. 71)

Again, this approach is also deeply linked to Francis and Leo’s teachings and views on ways to alleviate poverty, as put forth in Dilexit Not and Dilexi Te; they both posit that our current socio-economic structures put heavy emphasis on self-reliance and that this is ill-suited for those who need more support; importantly, this support must manifest in three ways: restructuring existing resources and infrastructure, the practice of material generosity and, in perhaps the most important connection with Buddhist teachings, inner transformation through spiritual practice:

Spiritual conversion, the intensity of the love of God and neighbor, zeal for justice and peace, the Gospel meaning of the poor and of poverty, are required of everyone, and especially of pastors and those in positions of responsibility. The concern for the purity of the faith demands giving the answer of effective witness in the service of one’s neighbor, the poor and the oppressed in particular, in an integral theological fashion

(Leo XIV 2025a, n. 98)

And yet a third relevant point concerning the need for structural forgiveness is found in what Buddhist teachings describe as the Three Poisons: greed, ill-will and delusion. What matters to us here is that while Buddhist scriptures describe and address each of these poisons at an individual level, they are very much present in social and corporate structures, as Loy (2003) observes. Greed, for instance, is embedded at the very core of the capitalism-based economy that surrounds us: a system that feeds a continuous desire for profit—which requires consumers to increase their consumption—and based on the principle that any extra capital should generate more capital. Certainly, we can find many examples of generosity and charitable contributions, but as Loy notes, this has not been the main effect of our current economic model. This connects indelibly with ill-will, as the inability to acquire possessions we crave or relishing selfishly in what we have while keeping it from others are the very sources of envy and covetousness; not only did the Buddha constantly warn against these mental formations, but as Loy (ibid.) indicates, the Dalai Lama tells us that the path to remedying these dispositions is precisely through compassion; this is because compassion has a double impact: it increases the happiness of others as we strive to alleviate their suffering, but it also increases our own.

Forgiveness and reconciliation do not require us to overlook or minimize the harm we have suffered; rather, they ask us to hold that harm within a compassionate frame of understanding. Leighton’s Faces of Compassion (Leighton 2003) illustrates this through the story of the bodhisattva Jizō, who vowed to remain in the world to help all beings still suffering. In one incarnation, Jizō is born as the daughter of a woman who spent her life dismissing the consequences of her behavior, mocking spiritual practice, and remaining trapped in doubt. Moved by grief and concern for her mother, the daughter undertakes an intense, almost punishing meditation practice, fixing her mind on the image of the Buddha until she is carried into the hell realms. There she discovers that her devotion has redeemed her mother, who has since been reborn into the heavenly realms. I highlight this story to exemplify how forgiveness might sometimes require us to “descend into the hell realms”, so to speak, and to walk alongside the person who has harmed us.

Undertaking such a task is no simple feat; therefore, nonviolence education must account for the reality that forgiveness and reconciliation rarely follow a linear timeline. In At Hell’s Gate: A Soldier’s Journey from War to Peace (Thomas 2005), Soto Zen monk Claude AnShin Thomas recounts two pivotal experiences that shaped his life path. The first was his combat service in Vietnam, where he endured a profound loss of innocence, overwhelmed by rage, grief, and despair as every local person came to be viewed through the lens of enmity. However, it was his return home and subsequent societal rejection that precipitated his descent into a personal hell realm. The second occurred upon returning to the United States, where he was met with hostility—including being spat on—and a pervasive atmosphere of unwelcomeness. He experienced the dehumanizing fallout of war through systemic rejection, joblessness, homelessness, and addiction.

Transformation began unexpectedly when he attended a retreat for Vietnam War veterans hosted by Thich Nhat Hanh. Notably, his participation was funded by the Vietnamese community at Plum Village—the very people he had been conditioned to view as the enemy. They did not ask for amends, atonement or compensation. They simply engaged in the cultivated practices of unconditional compassion and generosity. As Thomas observed, his former “enemy” extended a form of forgiveness he had not yet learned to grant himself. This profound shift underscores a critical reality: authentic forgiveness—far from being forced grace or an external mandate—requires the gradual cultivation of interior dispositions that render heart–mind opening possible. Just as these dispositions enabled Jizō to enter the hell realms for his mother, they enabled AnShin Thomas to dismantle the illusion of “Otherness.” Ultimately, it was the cultivation of unconditional compassion that allowed him to forgive himself and realize his deep interdependence with those he had once considered enemies.

The life of Cambodian Buddhist monk Preah Maha Ghosananda provides another powerful example of fostering reconciliation. Though, as Weiner (2003) notes, little is known about his early life, what is known is that his entire family – including sixteen siblings – was killed by Khmer Rouge Cambodian genocide in 1975. Poethig (2002) documents that in addition to the killing of nearly 2 million people, this period was marked the forced disrobement of 60,000 monks and the desecration of 3,000 Buddhist monasteries, many of which were converted into prisons. It also marked the resettlement of nearly 350,000 Cambodians into refugee camps or receiving countries. It was within these conditions that Ghosananda and a group of aid workers began developing ways to allow for the return of refugees in a manner that would promote reconciliation and consensus building grounded on the principles of nonviolence, loving-kindness and compassion.

The result of this collective effort was the Dhammayietra, a month-long peace walk comprising monks and laypeople who traveled through politically unstable regions of Cambodia promoting reconciliation. These walks were originally envisioned as a vehicle for returnees from refugee camps to overcome fear from retaliation and exclusion, thus helping facilitate the repatriation program once the war was over. As Weiner (2003) details, the walks drew soldiers themselves, who laid down their weapons pledging to renounce violence

Perhaps it is in his own Buddhist social teachings, however, that we find Maha Ghosananda’s message on forgiveness and reconciliation finds its clearest expression, as captured in Step by Step (Ghosananda 1992):

Victory creates hatred. Defeat creates suffering. The wise ones wish for neither victory or defeat. We can oppose selfishness with the weapon of generosity. We can oppose ignorance with the weapon of wisdom. We can oppose hatred with the weapon of loving kindness […] Peace begins in the mind. Yes, we show loving-kindness, even for the oppressor. After a great darkness, we see the dawning of peace in Cambodia […] We pray that this unity, the heart of reconciliation, the middle path, will be present at every meeting and dialogue of Cambodia’s leaders (p. 64)

This message of peace, consistent throughout his teachings and which follows from his own personal suffering as well as the collective suffering of his people, is, as he himself note in his discourses, anchored in his spiritual foundation as a Buddhist practitioner and in his effort to embody loving-kindness. “He further exhorts: loving kindness also means friendliness. With loving kindness all enmity is transformed. Our enemies will no longer hate us, and eventually they will return to our loving kindness as friends” (1992, p. 57).

This example, in turn, strongly mirrors the teachings of Jesus, whose passion exemplifies enduring persecution while extending forgiveness in his final words: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34, NIV). As Pope Leo XIV states in his Urbi et Orbi blessing (Leo XIV 2025b): “Peace be with you! It is the peace of the risen Christ. A peace that is unarmed and disarming, humble and persevering. A peace that comes from God, the God who loves us all, unconditionally.”

5. Conclusions

To conclude, I want to reiterate that current geopolitical fracturing, escalating military doctrines, and systemic inequality demand a fundamental rethinking of how human societies address harm, grievance, and conflict. As both Catholic social teachings by Popes Francis and Leo and Buddhist philosophy diagnose, the roots of structural violence lie in the illusion of absolute separation, narrow identity politics, and the unchecked dominance of reactive mental states. The Buddhist teachings I have discussed reveal that peace and reconciliation are built upon non-retaliation, the recognition of our interdependence, and authentic inner transformation.

What I have argued here is that Buddhist philosophy offers a critical, systematized contribution to philosophical and social discourses on forgiveness. First, Buddhist ethics frames forgiveness as an active, engagement fueled by wholesome, kinder inner dispositions. Grounded in the brahmavihāras and exemplified in texts like the Kakacūpama Sutta, forgiveness operates as a radical refusal to allow ill-will to dictate one’s actions, recognizing that even perpetrators of harm are driven by their own mental afflictions.

Second, through the concrete mind-training practices and cognitive strategies of Tonglen and the Vitakkasaṇṭhāna Sutta, Buddhism provides practical methods for converting personal anger and resentment into a capacity for reconciliation. By dismantling the dualistic binary of “us versus them,” these contemplative practices allow individuals to confront internal turmoil and build genuine empathy for the “Other”.

Finally, when extended to nonviolence education and structural injustice, Buddhist ethics underscore that true forgiveness cannot be legislated, rushed, or imposed. As highlighted in the insights of Engaged Buddhism and the lived experiences of practitioners navigating trauma, genuine reconciliation requires structural critique, material generosity, and a commitment to walk alongside those who suffer—even into the “hell realms” of systemic injury and past trauma.

Ultimately, forgiveness is neither a singular event nor a linear requirement, but an ongoing, active embodiment of nonviolence. By grounding structural peace in the interior transformation of mental afflictions, the synthesis of Buddhist practice and contemporary theological and philosophical discourse offer a blueprint for our world: one where bridges are built through the deep, transformative cultivation of wisdom, compassion, and interbeing.