What Is Dana Really Supporting? in Beginning These Reflections, I First
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What is Dana really supporting? In beginning these reflections, I first have to distinguish between two quite different meanings of dana. The first is the received definition from the tradition, coming from the pali, for which I turn to Thanissaro Bhikkhu: dana [daana]: Giving, liberality; offering, alms. Specifically, giving of any of the four requisites to the monastic order. More generally, the inclination to give, without expecting any form of repayment from the recipient. Dana is the first theme in the Buddha's system of gradual training, the first of the ten paramis, one of the seven treasures, and the first of the three grounds for meritorious action.¹ The second is my own free translation, which has no textual or authoritative source, but I would suggest is often the default meaning of dana that students understand, transmitted implicitly through the standard retreat form as practiced more or less universally in the Insight Meditation tradition. dana [daana]: Donation; The practice of voluntary contribution to teachers and / or managers of retreats for their time, energy, support, instead of the payment of a fixed fee.² In many ways, the practice of Dana as a foundation for happiness, as a ground for meritorious action, as the inclination to give or support (which Iʼll call Dana1), is alive and well, as evidenced by the many ways in which people volunteer at centres, organize, manage, cook and administer retreats etc.³ It is the other meaning (Dana2), and its mistaken identity with the first definition, that I want to explore in the following paragraphs. Looking at the relationship between the two definitions I specifically want to ask: To what extent does dana as payment by donation actually conduce to the practice of dana as generosity? Is it possible that payment by donation may conduce more to miserliness than to generosity? I have had many conversations with dharma friends and fellow teachers over the last few years about dana. Indeed among those of us who teach, it is one of the main subjects to which we turn in talking about teaching, a fact which in itself seems a little tragic! Many teachers have some ambivalence about the dana they receive and their capacity to support themselves thereby. At the same time, questioning the dana system has a certain taboo to it. While we discuss (moan?) to each other about various aspects of Dana(2 - the system of payment by donation), the frank discussion of financial realities is rarely brought directly to students, which goes along with a general cultural discomfort with discussing money. Dana1 is clearly foundational to dharma practice. Dana2 however, because it has the same name gets easily lumped in with the former, given the same importance, considered fundamental to the dissemination of the dharma. Is this actually the case? We have inherited a practice form that until two generations ago was practiced almost exclusively in a monastic, renunciate form, deeply embedded in the native cultures in which it thrived. Monastic practitioners, in relying on the generosity of lay supporters, have no dealings with money, including any physical contact whatsoever with it. By contrast, we are practicing today in a context that is predominantly lay, engaged, and where most of us - all but monastics - need very much to earn a living to support ourselves. Dharma teaching and practice is developing in the West in a culture with no historical valuing of dharma practice, in strong contrast to the respect and reverence for practitioners in Buddhist countries. It is developing in a culture that operates as a meritocracy, with each seen as responsible for making her own way, devoid of the sense of monastic-lay mutual support and inter- dependance that exists in Asia. These important differences affect the way we understand reciprocal exchange for goods, services, time and support. The situation of lay practitioners, and teachers then, is radically different from that of a monastic, asian context. We live, work and pay our way in a culture that requires us to be financially responsible in order for us to take care of what in Buddhist terms are called the ʻbasic requisitesʼ of food, shelter, clothing and medicine. If teaching dharma and supporting students involves so much time and energy that it excludes making a living in any other way, what is wise action? How sustainable is it to serve others without being able to take proper care of oneself? In many caring professions this would be seen as pathological. Do we as Dharma practitioners, looking out of the Insight Meditation tradition with its residue of monastic, renunciate practice, see poverty as noble? I am reminded of the Buddhaʼs repeated advice to householders to protect their income, and to maintain a “balanced livelihood”, wherein: a householder knowing his income and expenses leads a balanced life, neither extravagant nor miserly, knowing that thus his income will stand in excess of his expenses, but not his expenses in excess of his income.⁴ I think of the situation of a friend who has been teaching dharma for 20 years or so. Trusting in the generosity (dana1) of others, she has taught, receiving only dana (that is donations for her work, meaning Dana2 - see the confusing overlap?). Now in her 60s, as health and energy levels naturally deteriorate, she is in the precarious position of being dependent on her physical health to continue teaching, to continue receiving donations, to be able to maintain her ʻbasic requisitesʼ. She has no pension plan and no savings. Her only ʻcapitalʼ is the gratitude of her students, which while ʻpricelessʼ in Dharma terms, is not legal tender when age and health make it impossible for her to teach. To turn the above point into a question: Given the primary need for basic requisites, and the instability of that situation, and given the Buddhaʼs injunction to lay people to maintain themselves adequately for a “balanced life”, could it be that teaching in this way, relying on dana to sustain a lay life, is sometimes neither wise nor realistic? Dharma teachings are often presented as ʻfreely givenʼ, but is this actually true? Thanissaro Bhikkhu defines dana as “the inclination to give, without expecting any form of repayment from the recipient.” Is that what lay teachers are doing when we teach? In other words, are we really offering teachings as Dana, with no expectation of repayment? Given our lay lives, given our financial realities, given our need and our responsibility to maintain a “balanced livelihood”, is it even possible for us to teach with no expectation of repayment? Clearly, there is that expectation, and it has two distinct aspects: Firstly there are the financial realities. I have bills to pay, I have limited time, I am giving my time for the support of others, and hope for a mutuality of that support so as to maintain my life, or ʻbasic requisites.ʼ Some teachers are living in a semi-monastic environment - retreat centre resident teachers - with a stipend and food etc provided. Some have another source of income, whether from a spouse or partner, a business, or book sales etc. Some of have only the dana we receive from teaching. To the extent that we rely on donations for our livelihood we are bound to have the ʻexpectation of repaymentʼ to pay the various bills we have. This is in direct contradiction of the received definition of dana as generosity without expectation. Given that teachings are commonly presented as ʻfreely givenʼ, we have to ask, is this honest? The second expectation is not of financial gain or reward, but of Dana as the expression of respect, gratitude, acknowledgement, support. It is the studentʼs demonstration of their appreciation for teachings, their commitment to their practice, their support for their teachers. In the Asian context, these feelings of respect, gratitude and support underlie the whole relationship between practitioners and supporters, between teachers and students, between monastics and lay people. They are the engine of generosity. There is also the strong cultural motivation of making merit, of increasing oneʼs own store of goodness, of karmic ʻwealth.ʼ Equating generosity and gratitude with oneʼs own gain of merit just has no currency in our culture. It may be our intention as Dharma teachers to teach and educate people about the transformative power of generosity, but the fact is that the majority of people give an amount of money that they consider to be in payment for a service provided. This attitude, (Dana2), is the way most people, and that includes most people who come to Insight Meditation retreats, view the practice of Dana; as payment by donation. Outside the Insight Meditation tradition, the most common place that we see donation as a form of payment for a service is with people not fully qualified for the service they are offering. Somebody training to be a counsellor or therapist for example, before completing their training may offer sessions by donation. The implicit message is that their services are inferior to that of someone fully trained, who would make an appropriate charge, and therefore they offer their time and service by donation, meaning that they expect LESS THAN THE NORMAL CHARGE OF A QUALIFIED PRACTITIONER. The normal, cultural assumptions we have for this kind of service are: 1. That the donation offered in exchange is expected to be of less monetary value than the fixed fee for an equivalent service. 2. That the service is less competent, and has less intrinsic value, than an equivalent service for which a fixed charge is made. This situation has serious ramifications for the way Dharma teachings are seen by practitioners, for the value they accord to the teachings, the esteem in which they hold them, and therefore the depth of their commitment to them.