White Monk

The heat of the parade had drained us both, so Dan and I flopped down on the king-sized bed covered with by a flawless white under sheet, top sheet, and pillows and turned on the TV. Flipping through the channels Dan came across an older British white monk preaching in English at the conference hall in Colombo on one of the local Sinhala channels. The conference hall was packed with Sinhala women of all ages dressed in all white with a few Sinhala men sprinkled into the group. The audience appeared to listen in rapt attention as the monk delivered a basic sermon of living in the present moment and not allowing the mind to wander to the past or the future. “Sometimes you need to think about the future of course,” he re-assured the group benevolently. “If I never thought about the future I would never have been able to plan and get on a plane from Thailand and come here.”

“What do the Sinhala think about white monks?” I asked Dan.

“Oh! They love white monks,” he replied. “To the Sinhala white monks are the best thing ever because they validate them and their culture,” he began. “The white monk, raised in the West, the materially powerful culture, has realized their superior spiritual culture and renounced the West to join their tradition.”

“That makes sense,” I replied, watching the old British man in robes give his sermon sitting on a high platform. His burgundy robes were wrapped totally around him like a cocoon so that even his hands did not show. A microphone on a stand was positioned in front of his mouth and he spoke into the microphone without moving any other part of his body other than his lips.

“This guy is out preaching to the people, so that’s good,” Dan continued. “Some white monks live off of the generosity of the Sinhala and just sit around reading Pali texts as though it was some sort of scholarship program. They don’t go to homes and they don’t perform rituals. They don’t do anything for the society that feeds, houses, and clothes them,” he explained. “A few of them have made scholarly useful translations into English,” he conceded, “but many of them are parasites taking advantage of Sinhala tradition. Many of them are arrogant towards their host culture and despise their Buddhism as simplistic and superstitious. My old Sinhala teacher used to say that the Sangha, the community of monks supported here in Sri Lanka, was the greatest gift of Sinhala culture. Some of these white monks abuse that gift.”

“I can see that,” I agreed. “It’s really incredible how many monks and monasteries this little war-torn island supports.”

“To the Sinhala people,” Dan continued, “The monks are fields of merit. The Buddha is gone, he has achieved Nirvana and left this world, the monks and the Bodhi tree are what the people have here on earth. By supporting the fields of merit and encouraging them to flourish the Sinhala people believe that they accumulate merit for themselves and their loved ones, dead and alive,” he clarified. “For most people in the West who consider themselves Buddhist, this sort relationship is not satisfying or even relevant,” he furthered. “Most Western Buddhists don’t feel spiritually enriched by giving robes to the monks and supporting the Sangha as their field of merit. They want to be on the field themselves. Westerners want to be shooting for Nirvana themselves. I had a meditation teacher who used to say that Westerners tried too hard for Nirvana and Sinhala didn’t try hard enough,” he joked.

“That’s funny,” I agreed chuckling.

“That’s also why it doesn’t make a lot of sense to be a white monk in the West,” Dan continued. “Who is going to support you? Who are you going to serve?” he asked rhetorically. “Nobody needs a seven day alms giving after the death of a loved one in the West, and the white Western Buddhists are too wrapped up in their own quest for liberation to give enough robes and food to support a monastic community.”

“That makes sense,” I agreed. “I certainly feel that my Buddhist beliefs are my own individual journey and supporting monks or not supporting monks doesn’t make that much difference one way or the other.”

“Right, but I don’t think that you can really call yourself a Buddhist unless you do support monks,” Dan countered. “The most basic of the Buddha’s teachings is that for Buddhism to exist in the world you must have Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha. You must have the Buddha, the teachings, and the community of monks. You have to support the Sangha.”

“So, because I don’t support the Sangha when I told people at work that I am a Buddhist I was wrong and didn’t even know it?” I joked.

“Well, Buddhism is really still in it’s infancy in America,” Dan mock re-assured me, “So it’s ok.”

We both turned our attention back to the TV and watched the monk’s sermon for awhile.

“Dan?” I broke our silence.

“What Sweeite?” he replied.

“Why are so many monks fat?” I asked.

“Well,” he replied “It’s like I told you, when you are a field of merit you get fed a whole lot. Plus you can’t exercise. Monks are forbidden to do any sort of exercise in the monastic laws, it’s seen as an attachment to the body,” he answered.

“No kidding,” I replied. “That’s rough.”

“Yeah, you aren’t supposed to eat after lunch, so that just means that you need to learn to eat a really big lunch,” he added.

“Speaking of lunch,” I interjected. “Are you tan, ready, and rested enough to brave Colombo for lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah, it’s about that time. Where do you want to go?” Dan asked.

“Gallery Café of course!” I replied.