Growing a sangha

Last Saturday we had a Day of Mindfulness with Rosensanghan – the Rose Sangha, our local community of practice here in Göteborg, Sweden. As our day was coming to a close, we invented a new ritual for sharing the merit – a ”fruits of the practice” ritual. We placed a small Buddha statue in the centre of our circle, and gave everyone a fruit each. We all took a minute to contemplate the fruit in our hands – orange, apple, banana – and to think about one way that the dharma and our practice have been of benefit in our lives. Then we took turns sharing briefly about our reflections, giving thanks, and stating in our own words our wish that this benefit may spread, that other beings may also experience the happiness that comes from watering seeds of wisdom and compassion. Once somebody had spoken, (s)he offered the fruit to the Buddha. In our circle, people gave thanks for growing joy; a sense of safety and belonging; the capacity to listen deeply; forgiveness; increased stability and other wonderful things. Around the Buddha grew a beautiful selection of fruits of the practice, now being offered in gratitude. I felt such appreciation for the sangha – the ease with which we come together, the support we offer each other, the transformation that comes from it.

Four years ago there was no sangha in Thay’s tradition here. I urgently felt the need for one, but setting one up seemed such a big project. In my mind it looked like a catch 22 – I needed to practice with a sangha in order to become more stable, and so I should try to build one. But in order to build a sangha, I would need to be a stable practitioner – how else could I do it? I asked a dharma teacher about this dilemma, and he said: “First thing is this: don’t think that you are not stable enough.” How could he say that, I thought, he doesn’t even know me!

Nevertheless, I decided I had to try. Some friends who had also been to Plum Village came to sit together in my living room, and to my surprise others started showing up too. Soon we had a group of about 8 regulars coming for sitting, reading and dharma discussion. But although I was happy about it, our practice wasn’t very nourishing for me. I spent a lot of time preparing our sessions and worried about the expectations and experiences of the other practitioners, even as we were meditating. I tried so hard to create good conditions for everyone that sangha was becoming a real energy drain. After about a year, I decided I needed a break. No one else was ready to take on the work and we stopped meeting for a while.

During our break, something shifted in me. I am not sure why, but when we started meeting again I did my work with a different attitude. I no longer tried so hard; I just felt sangha preparations were a chance for me to practice. I enjoyed doing it, and I began to understand the words of the dharma teacher in a different way – not as a comment about my stability, but as good advice: don’t worry about whether you can do it or not, instead concentrate on doing it.
Now others are beginning to take on more sangha responsibilities, which is very nice! But when I have to do a lot of work, I am also happy, because it helps me focus on my path. These days, I feel caring for a sangha is like having a garden. We are gardeners – we contribute as best we can, and something grows because of our work. But the growth, the flowering, the fruit of the practice is not produced by us, any more than the apples I just picked outside are produced by me. These things emerge from the soil of our collective practice, through a process that is beyond our control. Thus we can relax, even while working we can lean back, and watch in amazement and gratitude as our sangha flower unfolds. Trust is the key, trust in the practice, in your own good heart and in the good heart in everyone else.

So for those of you who are on your own, fresh out of retreat and longing for a sangha where you live – know that you can do it! Like Pema Chödrön once wrote: if a schmuck like me can