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 interdependance 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. The idea is that the Dharma is ʻpricelessʼ, but is it possible that this message gets lost in translation, implicitly communicating that actually Dharma is simply cheap? If the assumption of ʻpayment by donationʼ is one of giving less than one would pay by fee, is teaching on a dana basis actually encouraging miserliness? It is my experience that 80-90% of participants on any given retreat offer an amount of money that is far below what they would pay for a workshop or seminar in an equivalent field that was being run on a fee-paying basis. While we cannot know the financial circumstances of participants, we can look at the equivalent value of a dana offering. I am aware that some may find this equivalent value comparison coldly monetary and lacking in understanding of the heart-qualities of Dana. Given that I am looking at Dana as it is generally perceived, as payment by donation (Dana2) rather than as the practice of generosity as a foundation for happiness (Dana1), please bear with me:
In the warm glow of the end of a retreat, appreciative participants will often express much gratitude for the teachings and for the teacher's time, energy, patience, and kindness. What happens to this appreciation on its way from the heart to the pocket? How does the expression of support, in the form of appreciative comments and feelings, translate to the demonstration of support in the form of the money they contribute? When the strong, sincere expression of support, thankyou, this has been so helpful, Iʼm very grateful, translates into a demonstration of support of say, 10, then whatever value the person believes they put on Dharma teachings, the ʻreal worldʼ equivalent value they are according it is roughly equal to a cup of coffee and a donut. If the donation is 30 - which is pretty close to the average per-person dana I receive, ( a little less for a daylong, a little more for a weeklong retreat) then the equivalent value is of a (cheap) meal out, a short journey by taxi, a couple of CDs, or a half-hour massage (if youʼre lucky!). Not knowing any particular yogiʼs financial situation, and necessarily ignorant of the sacrifice and generosity this sum may represent for the person, I nevertheless can safely assume that most people can rather easily afford the above-mentioned value-equivalent items. I have no doubt that people would say that they value and have benefitted infinitely more from the time, energy, input and teachings they have received from a teacher, than they would say they value the real-world equivalent items that their donation represents. Their actions however, belie their words. Clearly there is a self-deception that happens in translation from the expression of support to its demonstration. People feel they have benefitted greatly. They feel deeply grateful. The vast majority of people who participate in my retreats however (and from what I hear from most of you I am not alone), then offer an amount of money that represents far less value than they (self-deceptively) believe they are placing on the teachings they have received, and on the teacher they are supposedly supporting. Is dana supporting this deception? The outcomes of this situation correspond to the two aspects of the expectations of repayment mentioned earlier, that of exchange - donation for service, and that of support - dana as an offering of gratitude and respect.
Firstly, with the real-world financial situation of the teacher, the gap between expression and demonstration of support puts particular pressure on the teacher. How does one respond to being ʻpaidʼ a tiny fraction of what one would earn in an equivalent professional situation, and to not being able to sustain oneʼs basic livelihood from the dana one receives? To teach more than one really has the resources for, in order to bring in more money? To neglect oneʼs own contemplative practice to serve others in order to be supported by them? To take another job, diluting oneʼs capacity to serve students, so as to make ends meet? To accept invitations based on which retreats provide most dana (i.e serving the wealthy in preference to the less well-off)? All the above motivations seem unsatisfactory, unskilful, unpalatable. At the same time, they all necessarily play out in the mind of any teacher with the ʻexpectation of repayment.ʼ The second aspect is the gratitude, respect and support expressed by the studentʼs giving. Irrespective of my financial needs as a teacher (my own situation is that I run an unrelated business in parallel with my teaching activities so as to avoid sole dependence on dana), I am surprised, disappointed and frustrated when a student who expresses their support so earnestly, demonstrates it so differently. When this is the norm rather than the exception, born of studentsʼ self-deception about the value they place on the teachings, and from a lack of understanding of the foundational importance of Dana as generosity within the tradition, we have to conclude that ʻteachings by danaʼ are conducing to situations where teachings and teachers are undervalued, underappreciated, and under-supported. What are the implications of this for the transmission of Dharma within our culture? Teachers of course, have to bear some of the responsibility. If we have the impression that students are not practicing generosity, what does that say about our teaching of generosity? I have begun to speak more openly about this at my retreats recently, giving teachings on generosity as Dharma teachings, rather than only as part of the dana talk, and also by asking people to question themselves about the value-equivalence of their donations.
I have stated plainly that dana is not supporting me, that I question whether it is wise of me, or even possible, to continue engaging in an activity that takes so much of my time and energy yet supports me with only one quarter of the money I need to live on. Students want to support teachings and teachers. They want to be generous. They need to hear if their teachers are not getting the support they need, so they can do something about it. They need to hear teachings on the practice of generosity, quite apart from the request at the end of the retreat for donations. If students only hear about dana as basically a request for donations dressed in language about generosity, no wonder there is the overlap and confusion of definitions. Teaching by Dana is seen as an inherent part of the Insight Meditation world, but it is worth remembering that this is not so in all Buddhist traditions. Tibetan and Zen traditions both commonly have a single charge for events that covers both administrative costs and a teacherʼs fee. It is interesting that these traditions historically have much greater flexibility around the role of the monastic, and their actions and constraints in the world. It is common within some zen and Tibetan schools for monks to be married and have source of income. It is also common, through sponsorship or providing pastoral services in their community, that they have to pay for living in a monastery. This obviously influences their attitude to the worldly business of running centres, organizing teachings etc, encouraging them to establish financial stability. We see how skillful and successful Tibetan centres are at raising and managing finances. Likewise, the 227 trainings of the Theravada Vinaya influence the attitudes toward money within Theravada Buddhism. While Insight Meditation clearly has its roots in that tradition, do we as lay people need to carry the torch of the renunciate, unworldly flavour of monastic practice? As Dharma evolves in the culture in which we live, it will need forms of practice and ways of supporting practice that resonate with our culture. If teachers cannot take care of themselves financially through teaching, who will teach? Both teachers and staff at Gaia House feel there is not enough teachers
to serve the sangha there. Eight senior students connected with Gaia House just completed a teacher-training program that lasted several years.. Not one of the recently trained teachers in the program feels able or willing to leave the financial security of their existing jobs to teach dharma full time, leaving only some of their holiday time - a few weeks a year - to offer teachings. This does supports neither Gaia House, nor the sangha of practitioners, nor the existing, overworked teachers. With this situation, what does the future hold? How can these and other people like them be supported to teach Dharma? This article has raised many more questions than it has provided answers. Teaching and supporting the practice of generosity is essential to the tradition in which we teach and practice. As lay people however, is offering oneʼs time and energy by donation similarly essential? Many Dharma teachers already charge for their time, either for individual sessions or for classes. Many teach in a non- Dharma context (mindfulness in corporations, MBSR ⁵ ) on a normal commercial basis. It is a source of joy and a privilege, to offer Dharma teachings. But while we may be happy to offer dharma teachings freely, living a lay life one cannot realistically give oneʼs time and energy freely without expectation of return. Offering Dharma is the very best of gifts. But with a finite amount of time and energy, if the support we receive does not reciprocate the support we offer, I we have to do something about it. This could be teaching less, or stopping altogether in order to make ends meet. Or it could be valuing and therefore charging for oneʼs time and energy. We have looked at the confusion of definitions of the meaning of Dana, the selfdeception in the translation from expression to demonstration of support, and the dishonesty of calling the teachings freely given when in fact there is the expectation of return. The transition from a monastic to a lay context, and from an Asian dharma culture built over many generations, to a completely new context in the West, is recent and incomplete. How teachings develop, how dharma is practiced and understood, how generosity is cultivated, is up to us all as the living generation
of practitioners. Our primary responsibility to ourselves and our students is the genuine integration of the dharma we love and the life we live. How we do this will necessarily have its own flavour and expression, in the way that it has in each culture it has met. With the particularly ascetic and renunciate form of our Theravada legacy, we need to be vigilant to see where we may be clinging to forms that put us out of step with our culture, curb generosity and limit the resources for teachers and teachings. May we see our way wisely, examining our own greed, hatred and delusion. May we give generously and receive fully, offering the priceless gifts of Freedom and Awakening that Dharma teachings reveal. 1. Thanissaro Bikkhu, Glossary of Pali Terms, http://www.accesstoinsight.org/glossary.html#d 2. There are many illustrations of this overlap and confusion between definitions. e.g Gaia House, where the signs at the dana boxes refer to ʻPaying Danaʼ rather than ʻOffering Danaʼ, reinforcing the default definition of payment by donation instead of the true definition that the other dana literature there is trying to promote. 3. It is interesting however that many centres are running in a way that is unsustainable financially. A co-ordinator at Gaia House recently told me we are living off the building, with income insufficient to account for future renovation costs. Also, the Forest Sangha monasteries in Britain all rely heavily on donations from Thailand to maintain them. After 30 years of being here, the amount of donations from European supporters represents only a tiny proportion of their income relative to the amount of European practitioners there. 4. Vyagghapajja Sutta, AN 8.54, Trans. Narada Thera 5. Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction, as developed by Jon Kabat-Zinn. (3631 words)