IN THE
SUMMER OF 1976, Ajahn Sumedho requested permission from his teacher,
Venerable Ajahn Chah of Wat Pah Pong Monastery in North-East Thailand, to
visit his ageing parents in California. He had not seen them since leaving
America in 1964, weary of the West and drawn by an interest in Chinese
studies and Eastern religion to volunteer for service with the Peace Corps
in Sabah, Borneo. World-weariness and an interest in Eastern religion have
a way of breeding good bhikkhus, and it was not long before he became
Sumedho bikkhu [See Note 1] living under the guidance of
a meditation teacher, Venerable Ajahn Chah, in a forest monastery in Ubon
Province, Thailand.
Time
flowed by with its own teaching: one who endured the hardships and trials
of the dhutanga monasteries [See Note 2] naturally acquired inner
strength and patience, even without the sometimes aggravating, sometimes
playful, and frequently awe-inspiring teaching methods of a master such as
Ajahn Chah. The teaching was a whole training in 'letting go', in giving
oneself up to the routines, the Vinaya [monastic discipline], the simple
austerity of the food, clothing and shelter that were offered, and to the
will of the teacher. Ajahn Chah, with compassion and notorious humour,
would tease and frustrate his disciples out of their self-conceit, and
those who really wanted to be delivered from their selfishness placed
themselves, resignedly at first, but eventually with gratitude and
devotion, under his guidance for a minimum period of five
years.
After seven Rains [See Note 3], Sumedho was allowed to go
off on his own, and he wandered in India for five months, keeping to the
strict Vinaya training of dhutanga bhikkhus – no money, no storing of
food, and one meal per day, to be eaten out of the alms bowl before noon.
Somehow in India, living on faith, it worked, and the respect for the
tradition that this instilled in Venerable Sumedho encouraged him to
return to Ajahn Chah and offer himself up, body and mind, to serve his
teacher. Ajahn Chah's response is not recorded – it was probably no more
than a wry smile or a grunt – but in his eighth year, Venerable Sumedho
was given the task of establishing a monastery for Western bhikkhus in a
haunted forest a few kilometres from Wat Pah Pong, known as Bung
Wai.
After having made the necessary initial mistakes, he became the
Ajahn of a monastery that has since developed into something of a
showpiece in the forest tradition. Thai people – local villagers at first,
and subsequently more cosmopolitan folk from Bangkok – were impressed by
the presence of Western bhikkhus who had given up the wealth, university
education and conveniences of Europe and America to live a sweat-soaked
life that was austere, even by the rustic tastes of North-East Thailand.
Accordingly, the monastery, Wat Pah Nanachat ('International Forest
Monastery'), became well supported and acquired a wealth of sponsorship
that far exceeded the expectations of its Ajahn. More importantly, within
a couple of years the modest foundation of four bhikkhus swelled to a
sizeable group of bhikkhus, samaneras, por kaos and
maechees [See Note 4].
It
was at this time, in his tenth year as a bhikkhu, that Ajahn Sumedho made
a visit to America to see his parents, at his father's request. On the way
back to Thailand, he stopped off in London and, as the Thai temple there
was rather crowded, he decided to use a telephone number given to him by
one Venerable Paññavaddho Bhikkhu. This put him in touch with George
Sharp, Chairman of the English Sangha Trust and thereby custodian of the
empty Hampstead Buddhist Vihara [See Note 5].
Venerable Paññavaddho had been the Senior Incumbent of the
Vihara between 1957 and 1962, having succeeded the founder of the Trust,
Venerable Kapilavaddho. After an incumbency of five years, Venerable
Paññavaddho had felt an interest in deepening his practice by living in
the traditional forest environment of meditating bhikkhus, and had gone to
Thailand to live under the guidance of Venerable Ajahn Maha Boowa. Ajahn
Maha Boowa, like Ajahn Chah, stressed the importance of meditation, Vinaya
and simplicity of life-style, and he also had a very fine forest monastery
in North-East Thailand.
The
English Sangha Trust, the stewards and owners of the Vihara, had been
established in 1956 with the express aim of providing a suitable residence
for bhikkhus in England. By 1972, this aim had not been achieved, and it
was time to consider why. In some people's minds, in fact, it now seemed
an impossibility.
There were numerous views and opinions on this matter, but the
chairman was drawn to consider the nature of the environment and the
life-style of the bhikkhus. Several of the incumbents had been gifted
Dhamma teachers, but none of them had experience of the traditional
bhikkhu life, with its training conventions and mendicant relationship
with the laity. So Mr. Sharp had begun corresponding with Venerable
Paññavaddho, who had taken up that very life-style and obviously found it
preferable to the 'progressive' atmosphere of Western Buddhism. In 1974,
this correspondence had resulted in an invitation from the Trust to
Venerable Ajahn Maha Boowa and Venerable Paññavaddho to visit Hampstead.
Their presence was so inspiring that there was some hope that Venerable
Paññaavaddho might remain in England, accompanied by other forest
bhikkhus.
After Ajahn Sumedho's visit in 1976, Mr. Sharp went out to
North-East Thailand himself to visit the forest monasteries and make a
further request to the two meditation teachers to send forest bhikkhus to
England. Venerable Ajahn Maha Boowa, perhaps because he had visited the
Hampstead Vihara – and seen all the difficulties that lay ahead in a
country where people were ignorant of the bhikkhus' discipline and the
relationship between Sangha and laity – was rather doubtful of the idea.
The Vihara, a town house opposite a pub on a main road in North London,
didn't seem suited for forest monks. Ajahn Chah, however, decided to visit
in 1977, and when he came he brought Ajahn Sumedho with him.
Perhaps it was just another of Ajahn Chah's tests to make his
disciples 'let go', but as a result of the visit, he left Ajahn Sumedho at
Hampstead with three other of his Western disciples, to stay until more
suitable forest premises became available. The daily life was conducted in
a manner that was based on the monastic routine of the forest monastery,
with morning and evening chanting, a daily alms round [pindapada]
and instruction to lay visitors to the Vihara.
It
was not an easy time for the bhikkhus – apart from culture shock and the
sudden cramping of their environment, there was a lot of confusion as to
the role of the Vihara, and how the tradition was to be altered, if at
all, to fit English conditions. Perhaps in this country it was not
appropriate to live in forests at all. In this atmosphere of doubt, it was
only the bhikkhus' training in endurance and obedience to the discipline
and the structure of the Sangha that preserved a degree of
harmony.
In
the spring of 1978, one of those small miracles happened that stop the
mind's rational expectations. Keeping to the apparently pointless routine
of going out for alms every day, as prescribed by Ajahn Chah, Ajahn
Sumedho encountered a lone jogger on Hampstead Heath whose attention was
arrested by the bhikkhus' appearance. This jogger had acquired an
overgrown forest in West Sussex called Hammer Wood, out of the wish to
restore it to its former glory – but he also understood that this was work
for more than one man and one lifetime. Although not a Buddhist, he had
the openness of mind to appreciate that an order of forest monks might be
the perfect wardens for his woodland. Subsequently, he attended one of the
ten-day meditation retreats that Ajahn Sumedho held at the Oaken Holt
Buddhist Centre near Oxford, and later made an outright gift of the forest
to the Sangha. This marvellous act of generosity did of necessity involve
a lot of legalities, as local bye-laws prevented the construction of any
permanent structures on forest land, so in this situation the Sangha
gratefully accepted the invitation to stay instead at Oaken Holt for the
'Rains' of 1978 and let the Trust sort things out.
Early in 1979 Ajahn Chah was invited to England to see how his
disciples were making out; it was also about this time that George Sharp,
hearing that a large house near Hammer Wood was up for sale, agreed to
purchase it. This was Chithurst House, and its purchase was a gamble that
did not meet with unanimous approval. Buying the property had necessitated
selling the Vihara and the adjacent town house whose rent had provided the
basis for support for the Sangha – in order to purchase an unsurveyed and
ramshackle mansion. In May, Ajahn Chah arrived, somewhat disturbed by
rumours of his disciples' activities, to find a monastic community that
actually had nowhere to live. The new owners allowed the Sangha to use the
Vihara for a couple of months to receive the Venerable Ajahn and to effect
their move. In this atmosphere of insecurity, Ajahn Chah added one more
doubt by intimating that he was going to take Ajahn Sumedho back to
Thailand. While the Sangha members watched their minds, he went off to
America for a visit and there was nothing else to do but go ahead. On 22nd
June 1979, having bundled as much as we could into a removal van, we left
London for Sussex.
Chithurst House really was a mess. Small work parties sent down
earlier had done some preliminary work on clearing the grounds, but they
had been denied access to the main house. The owner had let the place run
to seed: uncleared gutters had broken and spilled water over the walls so
that dry rot had spread. As things had broken down they had been
abandoned; when we moved in, only four of the twenty or so rooms were
still in use. The electricity had blown, the roof leaked, the floors were
rotten and there was only one cold-water tap for washing. The house was
full of junk: all kinds of bric-a-brac from pre-war days. The outbuildings
were crumbling, roofs stoved in by fallen trees. The cesspit had not been
emptied for twenty-five years. The gardens were overgrown: a fine walled
fruit garden was a chest high sea of nettles. Over thirty abandoned cars
protruded through the brambles that smothered the vicinity of the old
coach-house.
But
as we started to scrape through the mess, it felt all right. The situation
left no alternatives: for better or worse, opinion was polarised and those
who disagreed left. We had the support of the Arama Fund – a trust
established by Venerable Paññavaddho to help found a monastery in the West
– which purchased the lovely meadows around the house. So the omens were
good.
A stir
of publicity initiated by the BBC programme 'The Buddha Comes to Sussex'
brought us a lot of attention – a mixed blessing, as this gave rise to the
'invasion fears' of a body of local opinion that proved awkward later. But
at first it was enormous fun. The summer was fine, we had a steady influx
of volunteer labour, and we all worked hard. We were loaned a marquee by a
local Buddhist businessman, which served as a kitchen and dining hall. The
weeds and debris in the grounds were attacked, temporary showers
installed, drainage cleared and work begun on the kitchen. The community
for Vassa [the 'Rains' retreat] consisted of six bhikkhus, two samaneras,
eight male anagarikas, four women in training to become anagarikas and
three or four lay people for various periods of time. It was a spiritual
refuge that gradually took on a monastic form.
In
September, the women were given a separate place to live when a beautiful
little cottage adjacent to Hammer Wood was rented for their use. About a
year after their ordination as anagarikas in October, it was purchased
with an estate that actually forms the ecological heart of the
forest.
Also
in October our two samaneras were given Upasampada [See Note 6] by Venerable Dr. Saddhatissa,
using the River Thames as a sima boundary. So by the winter, we
had a 'monastery' and a 'nunnery', and a sizeable group of bhikkhus going
out for non-existent alms every morning.
This
spectacle must have been more alarming than we thought, and at first there
was a lot of mistrust and reserve in the minds of local people, who tended
to bracket any Eastern religion in the category of cults of idol
worshippers following strange or – even worse – no gods. The discipline,
with its emphasis on harmlessness and modesty, again helped us out where
no amount of teaching of Buddhist Philosophy would have done. Our
neighbouring farmer, for example, had been impressed that, although we
were not going to kill the rabbits that live on our property and invaded
his fields, we went to the trouble and expense of building a rabbit fence
to keep them in. It was our effect on the environment and our neighbours
that finally made the district council grant Chithurst House monastic
status, with the freedom to train bhikkhus and nuns and live the monastic
life in its conventional way.
This
permission came in March 1981; meanwhile, the monastery had established
itself in other ways. In the summer of 1979 we constructed a kitchen – but
we shivered through the winter wearing caps, scarves and woollen underwear
until the wood-burning stove that was to heat the house arrived in March
1980. Work continued throughout that year, during which time one-half of
the house was gutted from basement to top floor. Its rotten floors, doors
and window frames were removed and burnt, so that we could create a new
Shrine Room.
The
second winter saw a halt in the work programme, as available funds ran
out. The monastery is totally dependent on donations, which tend to dry up
in the winter. Ajahn Sumedho decided that this would be the perfect time
for a monastic retreat, and this is the pattern that has established
itself as a splendid yearly opportunity for a quiet period of intensive
practice. At the end of the monastic retreat in February 1981, the Buddha
finally came to Sussex in the form of a half-ton Buddha image sent by a
generous lay supporter from Thailand. This was a cheering sign, and work
began with renewed vigour. In the evening before Asalha Puja began the
Rains of 1981, the new Shrine Room, dominated by this radiant image, was
finished.
For
that Rains, at last, the community had a long break. Work had thus far
been the major practice at Chithurst. Despite a couple of brief retreats,
by and large the preoccupations were technical and material rather than
scriptural or contemplative. Sometimes work would go on well into the
night to complete a project. One time, the dam by the cottage showed signs
of breaking up – so, whatever, it had to be fixed as quickly as possible.
People would get exhausted and complain about not being able to meditate,
but for the most part they understood that it was a trial period, a
changing condition that, like any other, could afford insight into the
Four Noble Truths once the situation was accepted. It was actually a very
good time for practice: good Vinaya, good teaching, good support and a
stable Sangha. One can even imagine that in the future people will be
talking about 'the good old days when the going was tough'.
A
sima boundary, defining a consecrated area for ordinations and official
Sangha functions, was established by Venerable Anandamaitreya on 3rd June
1981 in the monastery grounds where (at times, in a teepee!) we have held
the fortnightly recitations of the discipline – the Patimokkha.
Fittingly, a stone was set into the earth with the
straightforward inscription Vinayo Sasanassa Ayu ('Vinaya discipline is
the life of the religion'). The other principal use of the sima – for
ordinations – was made possible by Venerable Anandamaitreya on the
afternoon of its consecration, when he conferred thera
sammati – the authority of an upahjjaya [See Note 7] on Venerable Sumedho. On July
16th three anagarikas were ordained as bhikkhus there, bringing the total
up to eleven. With this number it became possible to move people around,
and the Ajahn was able to respond to a request for a branch monastery to
be established at Harnham in Northumberland (opened 23rd.
June).
This
monastery, originally an old farm-workers cottage, also grew in its next
four years, until for the Vassa of 1987, there were five bhikkhus and two
anagarikas in residence. Currently (1992), they are hard at work
converting an adjacent building into a larger Dhamma centre for the North
of England and the Scottish Borders.
This
is one project among many for a Sangha that has diffused throughout
Britain, as it and its support has grown. Local Buddhists set up a small
monastery in Devon in 1983, which now acts as a centre for that region;
and in 1984, the Amaravati Buddhist Centre was established in
Hertfordshire as a national centre, on the initiative of the English
Sangha Trust.
An
important consideration in the creation of Amaravati was the provision of
more facilities for lay people. Until this time, the Sangha generally
travelled away from the monastery on invitation to teach, and retreats
almost always were held in hired premises. This meant that we were using
accommodation that was not specifically designed with Dhamma practice in
mind, and which therefore lacked the supportive qualities of a monastery;
it also meant that retreatants had to cover the (frequently high) costs of
facilities that were intended for rather different activities.
For
his part, Ajahn Sumedho had a few further ideas in mind – a place that had
a meeting hall large enough to hold the many people wishing to come to
public talks and special occasions; enough living space for large numbers
of guests to stay with the community and participate in their life of
practice; and suitable residences for the increasing number of men and
women asking for the Going Forth into the Holy Life.
Out
of these wishes and a few minor miracles, Amaravati was born. Formally
opened under the auspices of Venerable Anandamaitreya and Tan Chao Khun
Paññananda in May 1985, Amaravati – 'The Deathless Realm' – occupies the
grounds and the spacious wooden buildings of the former St. Margaret's
School in Great Gaddesden. The centre has a monastic community of about
forty men and women under the guidance of Ajahn Sumedho, and any number of
guests on site living as part of the community, taking part in organised
retreats in the separate retreat facility, or there for a public talk,
festival or children's class. Once a year – in the same way that Chithurst
has the bhikkhu ordinations – Amaravati is the setting for women to ask
for the Going Forth as Ten-Precept Nuns (siladharas). So, with a
mendicant lifestyle now available for women, the Holy Life is developing
in conventional form as well as in numbers.
And
even as we are coming to terms with the possibilities that Amaravati has
created, another branch monastery has opened and is flourishing in Stokes
Valley, New Zealand (near Wellington); branch monasteries have been
established in Kandersteg, Switzerland and Sezze Romano, Italy; and an
invitation is being taken up to open a vihara in the United States, in
California.
Relating to all this is awesome at times, because the life of
the Sangha is nourished by something far larger than the energies of
individual monks and nuns. We realise that Buddhism is providing for a
spiritual need in a large number of Western people, although its
conventions are undemonstrative and our Sangha is quite young. With the
sense of responsibility that this creates in the minds of the bhikkhus and
siladharas there is a lot of effort going into supporting the faith of lay
people, and into keeping the monastic training firm enough to make us fit
for such responsibility.
People living the household life have developed their practice
in like fashion, and make full use of the monasteries. In fact, of the few
ceremonial occasions that we have during the year, the largest is the
Kathina, which can only be organised by lay people. Moreover, the Kathina
is simply an occasion for offering requisites to the bhikkhus – and yet
this ceremony draws an attendance that far exceeds our normal number of
visitors. People seem to get a lot of joy out of giving to those who are
'worthy of gifts' [See Note 8]. To find happiness in giving
rather than gaining something is quite a turn-around in many people's
attitude towards life, a change of heart that is one of the blessings of a
mature and sensitive relationship between Sangha and laity.
What
we have all realised, to our surprise, is the extent to which people are
willing to live and support the Holy Life. The difficulty hitherto has
been finding places where people could live as monks and nuns, and it
wasn't until that was given highest priority that the Sangha was able to
survive. Rather than try to find ways to adapt the Sangha to Western
conditions, Ajahn Sumedho considered it more important to establish the
monastic life according to Vinaya and tradition, and allow it to adapt
gradually – the way that it has done over the centuries in Asian
countries. As always, a high standard of conduct is maintained; and with
the native familiarity of most members of the Sangha with the ways of
society in the West, people are finding the guidance and example of the
community very relevant for their present circumstances.
Meanwhile at Chithurst, the forest is gradually being restored
through the planting of thousands of native hardwood trees. It offers an
ideal environment for meditation huts, and bhikkhus now may spend the
entire Vassa living in the forest and receiving their daily alms food from
local villagers. Several tudong walks (long-distance pilgrimages) have
taken place, including one by the nuns in 1984 to move from Chithurst to
Amaravati; this practice seems set to establish itself in the West, as it
has done in Thailand.
However, living in the Dhamma makes one's outlook practical and
immediate; the future is the unknown, and for now we can only practise
what we do know and aspire to live with a quiet heart.
Notes.
1.bhikkhu: Buddhist monk. Ajahn is a
romanisation of the Thai rendition of the Pali word 'acariya', meaning
teacher or guide. In monastic usage it implies authority; e.g. junior
bhikkhus are expected to train for at least five years under their Ajahn.
It is also commonly spelt 'achaan'.
2. dhutanga: 'austere'.
3. Rains: the seniority of a bhikkhu is
determined by the number of yearly monsoon-season retreats that he has
spent in the robes.
4. Whereas a bhikkhu is a fully
ordained monk who follows 227 precepts, a samanera is a 10-precept novice
(who nevertheless wears the same ochre-coloured robes as the bhikkhus). In
Thailand, the samanera stage is often reserved for those too young for
full ordination. Por kao and maechee are 8-precept monastics, male and
female respectively; in England, the Pali terms anagarika and anagarika
are used.
5. vihara: monastic residence.
6. upasampada: acceptance into the
order of bhikkhus (‘ordination'). This must take place within a prescribed
boundary, called a sima. The late Ven. Dr. Saddhatissa was the senior
Theravadin bhikkhu in Britain at the time, and Senior Incumbent of the
London Buddhist Vihara.
7. upajjhaya, or preceptor: a bhikkhu of more
than ten Rains who has the authority to confer full monastic
ordination.
8. This phrase is found in the traditional Theravadin
morning and evening chanting, a characteristic of a Sangha which is
sincere in its practice.