At the end of a retreat two baskets are put out – one for the teacher
and the other for Southern Dharma. Retreat participants are invited to
contribute if they so choose but are certainly not required nor in any
way pressured to do so.
There are at least two reasons why teachers are not paid but rely on financial contributions for their teaching. First, the teachings are thought to be priceless. They cannot be equated with a definite sum of money and, just as in the aphorism that "money cannot buy happiness," money is unable to purchase the benefits of following a spiritual path. Second, support for teachers should arise out of feelings of generosity rather than obligation and retreat participants should themselves decide how much they would like to give - taking many factors into consideration including their own financial situations.
Retreatants occasionally ask the Southern Dharma staff how much is an
appropriate amount to give. Although this short essay will not answer
that question, readers may derive some insight and a direction in which
to think as they decide whether and how much to give.
An act of giving has two poles – the giver and the receiver. It is obvious how giving benefits the receiver. It is less clear how giving provides gain for the giver although the aphorism, "Better to give than to receive," shows that we have a definite, though perhaps unarticulated intuition.
As a spiritual practice, offering dana leads beyond the act of giving as motivated by guilt or to be nice or because the recipient needs what we have to offer or even for the sheer joy of bringing happiness to another. All those are valid reasons for giving or providing service, but in offering dana we have the opportunity to look more deeply and to recognize the specific benefit obtained by the giver.
Dana is itself a practice for overcoming greed and self-centered
concern. Confronted with the prospect of giving a
material object, we see our attachment to material objects. We have
been told a hundred and one times that living lightly with few
possessions leads to well-being, attenuation of worry, and the time
and opportunity to dwell on "important things."
But the practice of giving things – and giving things up – is difficult.
In the act of dana we are brought face to face with how we equate
possessions with security and happiness.
The act of giving money even more directly confronts us with our
equation of security with "having." How much is enough in our bank accounts?
Will I have enough for retirement? For the next year? For my children?
How do the needs of the retreat teacher stack up with the other
organizations to which I donate? And because there is no definitive way to
answer these questions, we wonder how much is appropriate and how much
others are giving. If I give the "norm," then I am free from both
feelings of stinginess and feelings of having been foolishly
over-generous which may result from the ebullience natural at the end of a
retreat. If I give the "expected" amount, then I
don’t have to think about what is the appropriate amount to give. I am
free from having to answer the question myself.
But there is no norm. Each individual must decide for him/herself. The very act of deciding whether to give and how much to give opens us to a practice in its own right.
We should bring to dana the same mindfulness we bring to meditation
practice. Without judgment can we simply watch the spectrum of feelings
that arise as we decide whether and how much to give: feelings of
generosity, gratitude, wanting, insecurity, conformity, wanting to do
the right thing, worrying how others judge us. Can we watch our vacillation over how much
to give? Can we simply watch these things without judgment as these thoughts and feelings
flow through our minds?
Perhaps later we may judge that we’ve been overly generous or perhaps later we may judge that we’ve been too parsimonious. That’s OK. The next time we have the opportunity to make a financial contribution, we will compensate.