Isan monks helping their communities

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Development monks help their poor communities with economic and educational needs, living examples of why monks still matter.

Bangkok, Thailand -- Fed up with rogue monks? Losing hope in ability of the lax and closed clergy to lead the way? Meet Luang Por Ang, Luang Por Chair, and Phra Kru Somsri. All Isan monks. All dedicated to lift the livelihood and spirituality of their villagers. All are living examples of why monks still matter. Probably more so now than ever.

The three so-called "development monks" were in Bangkok earlier this week to talk about their past work and present challenges at a time when the rural folks' way of life and political awakening have dramatically changed from four decades ago.

Luang Por Ang, or Phra Kru Pattanakijjanuwat, is abbot of Wat Huay Bueng in Nakhon Ratchasima's Dan Khun Thot district.

"I finished only Prathom 4," said the elderly monk. "I never thought of such high words as inequality or development. But scarcity was all around me. Right from when I first became a monk, I kept asking myself what I could do to repay the poor villagers who feed me."

He led the villagers in building roads and bridges so that the sick could go to the hospital and farmers could sell their crops. He set up medicine banks, learned how to use needles and syringes, taught himself to be a mechanic, a house builder, and filled in whenever the rice paddies needed more labour. He helped the villagers set up community savings groups and welfare funds. He also succeeded in convincing the villagers to donate land to build a reservoir for common agricultural use.

When dusk fell, the monk completed his day's mission by talking to the villagers about the use of dharma in one's life.

At the height of the communist insurgency in the '70s, he was accused by the authorities of being a communist. "But that didn't bother me. All I wanted was to help the villagers."

He was not alone. Other development monks, like Luang Ta Chair or Phra Kru Amornchaikhun of Wat Asom Dhamatayat in Korat, faced the same fate when he led the villagers to save their community forests from the local mafia.

Fast-forward 40 years. Isan has now changed. So have the Isan people's aspirations.

Transportation, public health and electricity are no longer a concern. The region is now deep in the cash economy with all its urbanisation benefits and pitfalls. Modern telecommunications have connected the villagers with the world, reshaping the villagers' world-views, consumption patterns and life dreams. Farming, meanwhile, is still a losing business. Perennial debt and extra off-farm work have left the villagers little time for the community as before. Like the rest of the country, many villages have also slipped into the deep political divide.

How have development monks dealt with the new challenges?

Knowledge - both in technical skills and management - is now the key, said Phra Kru Somsri, whose official title is Phra Kru Bhodhivirakhun, abbot of Wat Bhodhikaram in Roi Et.

His temple operates as a non-formal education centre offering a wide range of occupational training free of charge so as to give the youth new skills and opportunities.

The temple has also set up a community grocery store, managed by the villagers as a cooperative. The community savings has also grown into a community bank, run transparently by elected village committees to provide low-interest loans, with profits going back to community welfare funds.

Working together is at the heart of these activities. And when the communal, open management structure is already in place, the community can deal with any new challenge, he said, including the political divide which is bridged only when the villagers have to rely on kinship and communal ties to solve common problems.

"When in the temple, they also have the chance to pray, to reflect, to be close to dharma to guide their lives," he added with a smile

More changes are coming. "But don't be alarmed," said Luang Ta Chair pensively. "You can't stop change. Nothing stays the same. It's part of dharma, the way things are. Our duty is to help the villagers be ready to cope with it."

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Sanitsuda Ekachai is Assistant Editor, Bangkok Post

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How faith communities can appeal to 'post-religious' British Columbians

In British Columbia, religious people feel on the defensive.

Neither Roman Catholic, Protestant, Jewish, Buddhist nor other faith communities have gained as much traction here as they have in other regions of the world.

B.C. has a greater proportion of people than anywhere else in North America - 35 per cent - who say they have "no religion." And even many who feel lingering loyalty to a faith like to declare: "I'm spiritual, but not religious."

Suspicion toward religion is no recent trend in B.C. either. Gonzaga University historian of religion Patricia O'Connell Killen suggests the West Coast has had a "post-religious" culture since settlers arrived in the 19th century.

By way of example, Killen says the first Anglican Bishop for British Columbia, George Hills, wrote in frustration in 1881 to his Church of England superiors. He complained of the "constitutional religious apathy" of West Coast pioneers.

This is not to say that active Christians, Sikhs, Muslims and others have not punched above their weight in B.C. Organized religions have had "an impact disproportionate to their numbers" in providing social welfare, health care and education.

Yet Killen convincingly describes two key reasons faith communities in B.C. and the rest of the Pacific Northwest have never gained "the depth and power" they've enjoyed elsewhere.

One factor is high mobility. People here are always on the move.

They're either migrating in, to escape the constraints of the past. Or they're going out, heading off to the next opportunity, usually economic.

"I would suggest," Killen says, "that 'temporary' and 'tentative' are qualities that we breathe in the air and drink in the water in the Northwest."

Every move severs relationships and creates "a state of amnesia," she says, which makes communitybuilding more difficult.

The other big reason British Columbia (and Washington and Oregon) have long had a post-religious quality is the stunning, overwhelming wilderness.

B.C.'s natural environment competes with institutional religion and other wisdom traditions, Killen says. "The grandeur of our surroundings de-centres the human and feeds the post-religious character of this place."

Teaching at a Jesuit-run university in Spokane after decades at Pacific Lutheran University in Tacoma, Killen is a Roman Catholic with recommendations on how faith communities, if they are open and self-critical, can offer something valuable to the skeptics of the Pacific Northwest.

Killen suspects people of faith in B.C. have an advantage over more traditionbound religious adherents in the East and U.S. South. Members of B.C. faith communities know the "temptations" of this region, and are more willing to adapt.

Like others in this mobile province, actively religious people know how easy it is to take pride in being uncommitted. "We make a virtue of always keeping our options open."

Religiously involved British Columbians also don't find it odd when people claim utter self-sufficiency, Killen says. "We think 'I'm responsible for me. You're responsible for you.' And that's it."

People who regularly attend churches, mosques, temples, gurdwaras and synagogues also know the delights of West Coast flora and fauna.

Like the spiritual-but-notreligious, members of B.C. religious communities have felt "awe" and "wonder" witnessing sunsets and forests. B.C. religious people appreciate how unaffiliated searchers are drawn to direct experiences of the sacred.

"We know the exhilaration and beauty of nature, the release of being dwarfed by mountains. It almost makes us feel invisible sometimes."

All in all, Killen believes B.C. faith communities can reach out to spiritual-butnot-religious people by listening to their often-profound questions - and even by adapting some of their practices, be it contemplation or nature reverence.

Using Biblical metaphors, Killen hopes people of faith can become "salt" and "leaven" to the many British Columbians who still find religion "unintelligible and boring."

She recommends three intriguing ways faith communities can reach out:

. By becoming places where people are reminded "that all that exists is relational;" that "we can survive on our own, but we do not become human on our own."

. By being "carriers of memory;" healthy communities that offer "the virtue of stability," as well as a sense of history and a shared story.

. By being "crucibles of commitment;" where people can "learn to live joyfully and extend themselves on behalf of others."

dtodd@vancouversun.com

© (c) CanWest MediaWorks Publications Inc.

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