The Value of Pindapata

The Value of Pindapata

If there is one image that comes to people's minds when they hear the words 'Buddhist monk', it is that of a line of ochre-robed bhikkhus holding bowls in their hands, walking from house to house collecting almsfood. This is an everyday scene in countries like Thailand which contributes to the special atmosphere that foreign visitors often enjoy. Here in the West, it is quite rare to come across such a sight, although in some places it has been successfully introduced and practised for a number of years.

In the centres of our towns, people are often seen doing their shopping, going to the bank, to the post office or to the doctor, rushing to their office or to school, with a very goal-oriented attitude, trying to get things done as efficiently and quickly as possible. This can create a sense of stress and hurry, which may be displayed in the way people treat one another, simply as objects that help me get what I need.

To see a couple of still standing figures, in a monastic dress and with bowls slung over their shoulders, brings the efficient, utilitarian mind-set to a stop. "Who are they? What are they doing?" Unlike everybody else, they are obviously not doing anything in particular; neither are they demanding anything from the passers-by. This can awaken a sense of curiosity in the minds of those who are sensitive and attuned to a more subtle dimension of human interaction. It may bring up a wholesome intention in the mind, wanting to give -- without being coerced or forced -- simply because it feels right, it feels good. There is very little opportunity for such spontaneous giving in our Western society, especially when it is done physically, offering food with one's own hand, rather than sending a cheque to an anonymous address. Doing this regularly fosters a healthy sense of self-worth: "I can do this, because I have decided to do this."

For the monastics, depending on almsfood or pindapata, as it is called in Pali, is something we are instructed to do when we enter the Sangha ("you should endeavour at this as long as life lasts"). The Buddha also defined right livelihood (samma ajiva) for monks and nuns as simply this -- going on almsround. We don't have to 'make a living' by performing ceremonies, doing chanting, teaching meditation courses, giving counseling, etc. Although we may also do such things, it is good to remember that, basically, we rely on pindapata, on what is freely given, to sustain our lives so that we can study and practise the Dhamma-Vinaya.

For those of us who have joined the Sangha here in the West, going on almsround is usually not something done on a daily basis, but rather an occasional opportunity to follow the traditional practice of the samana (religious mendicant). It generally involves walking to a nearby town, which takes between one to three hours, and then standing in several spots in the centre of the town until one has collected enough food for the day. One then finds a suitable place to eat one's morning meal (e.g. a park, a cemetery) before returning to the monastery.

Going on pindapata is something one chooses to do and it involves some physical exertion, especially when one has been sitting up late the night before or the walk is a long one. The junior monks and nuns also carry clay bowls, which can be rather heavy! But the benefits are, among other things, that one's mind becomes refreshed and cleared of the stuff that has accumulated during the week of living in the monastery, attending to various tasks and duties, dealing with people and so on. The Buddhist samanas originally followed a wandering life-style, which allows for greater flexibility in adapting one's practice to different environments, seeking our suitable places for meditation, and not getting too entangled in unconducive situations. This life-style, though, is difficult to maintain (especially in the West) so monks and nuns tend to live in stable communities for long periods of time. The challenge of that, of course, is becoming too 'domesticated', feeling weighed down with household concerns, and losing the sense of freshness and lightness in one's monastic life. This is called viveka -- mental solitude or detachment -- which is essential for developing meditation and finding enjoyment in it.

Taking up the pindapata practice as something one does on a regular basis can, I believe, be of great help to monks and nuns who live in the West. Buddhist monastics are also able to go on 'tudong' (walking tour) lasting for up to several weeks during the summer months. Relying on people's spontaneous offerings, and living with the uncertainty of it, reminds us of the spirit of the renunciant life we have chosen. Life in a monastery can sometimes be too predictable: there is always enough food at the meal time, people are very generous in bringing offerings of dana, so one can get used to it as something normal. This can in turn decrease the sharpness and alertness of one's mind, which are qualities needed in meditation practice. When going for alms in the local towns one also gives opportunity for people to reflect on the deeper meaning of life when they see a samana, which is traditionally one of the 'heavenly messengers' (devaduta).

During this year's Vassa (rainy season) each monk and nun had three weeks for themselves, being on self-retreat. Instead of taking a 'vow of enclosure' I have determined to go on pindapata as part of my regular routine. I would walk in the morning along the lanes around Amaravati, using this time for staying mindful of the walking or contemplating the body, keeping my mind from wandering and proliferating about other issues. It was a good exercise, both physical and mental. I never got anything offered into my bowl, but people walking or driving past me seemed to appreciate simply seeing a bhikkhu.

It may take decades before people here in the West discover the meaning of pindapata as it is practised in the Theravada countries of South-East Asia, but it is an important aspect of Buddhist monasticism which should be kept alive. When Ajahn Chah came for a visit to England in the late 1970s, he commented on the fact that although some bhikkhus have already been living here for a number of years, they did not seem to have had much impact on the society. "They have left their bowls at home," he said, and he encouraged the Western monks to continue this traditional practice of going on almsround, despite the fact that it was something unknown to the locals.

Bhikkhu Gavesako

(Amaravati Buddhist Monastery, Vassa 2003)