Two Halves of the Community

The Buddhist festival known as the Kathina revolves around the simple act of offering a piece of cloth to a monastic. But it’s really much more than that. What this ceremony symbolizes is the profound relationship between the two halves of the Buddhist community: the Sangha and lay society. In the Kathina, there is a recognition of the physical dependency of the monastics on their lay supporters.

…However it might be misconstrued by others, the Buddha himself was very clear about the value of monastics being physically dependent on the greater lay community. For one, religious figures often get put into a high position in society. They become invested with a lot of power and authority by people around them. Begging is a brilliant way of limiting that area of power and control.

While you may be an extremely high and revered spiritual teacher, at the beginning of the day, your bowl is still empty. You have no money to buy what you want or to go where you like. There may be a lot of power and authority in some areas of your life, but there is zero in others. Physical dependence is a skillful way to keep the power given to religious figures under control and in balance.

We can also reflect on the four requisites as laid out by the Buddha: food, lodging, robes, and medicine. These are the basic supports for life. Because of our dependency, we reflect on the physical needs that we have and we learn to use frugally what we have been given. We reflect on being easy to support. Of course, these are not highly refined metaphysical reflections; they are much more basic.

The monk is hungry; give him food. This one’s cold; wrap some cloth around him. The relationship between the monastics and the lay community is built on that physical dependency. We are not able to ask for anything and therefore must rely entirely upon the effect of the quality of our lives. If our lives are useful and have meaning to the greater community, then the bits of cloth will show up. The food will arrive. And if our lives are not worthy, then it won’t show up.

The Buddha was a genius in establishing this kind of relationship. Simply to survive, the monastics must consciously and on a daily basis interact with the greater society. We can’t depend upon ourselves. We can’t live independently from you. We can’t shut the door and say that you lay people are not welcome to visit us “serious meditators.” Our bodies are fueled by the food you offer us. In fact, scientists say that all the cells of the body are replaced every seven years, so any of us who has been ordained for that long now has a body that has been completely donated.

Looking at our lives of dependency in this way, we start to relate to things in a different fashion. If it were not for the accumulated kindnesses, efforts, and good-will of countless hundreds and thousands of people, this body would not be able to sustain itself. Kindness is the actual physical fabric of what we think of as Me. Monastics are made up of all those little potluck dishes you have offered to us. I find this a very beautiful and comforting thought.

In return, the monastic community endeavors to live life in a way that brings clarity of mind. Our intention is to live harmoniously and respectfully both within our community as well as within the greater world. We create and hold a space – a sacred space that encourages safety and freedom. Within this environment, the very best qualities of the human heart can be developed.

This reflection by Ajahn Amaro is from the book, Rugged Interdependency, (pdf) pp. 114-115.