Recently, it become clear why making a living from spiritual teaching is a slippery slope upon which most all slide. The answer emerged while considering that nexus of human psychology and economics called sales.
To illustrate: which of these product descriptions is most compelling?
- This razor provides the best and smoothest shave on the planet. Utilizing the latest in technology, its silky smooth results are guaranteed to leave you ready to enjoy your day.
Or:
- This razor may work for you; or it may not. The only way to know is to buy it and try. It may take many months before you really know if it is working. It may also nick you or leave razor burn. That’s actually a good thing, though it may hurt at first, you’ll thank us later. The technology is nothing new. In fact, it has been in existence for hundreds of years and if you don’t like ours, someone else’s razor make work just as well.
Which would you buy? If you were a salesperson, which description would you use to sell your product? How would you make a living if, in truth, your product was like razor #2?
Richard Rose used to say, “Don’t eat from the altar.” By that, he criticized people who made their living peddling spiritual teachings. I respected Rose for “walking his talk.” Rose let me stay on his property for a couple of years for the tiny sum of $50/month and never charged a nickel for all the times I sat in his kitchen with my questions. It just made sense that a priceless teaching should be without price. If you did charge, I thought, you must be a phony. As a spiritual neophyte, it was a catchphrase I didn’t question. Years later, I saw teachers that I felt had some wisdom charging for their teachings. I wondered, “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you can charge and be a legitimate spiritual teacher.” As well, I felt my own desire to spend more time writing, making films, talking with people, and sitting in silence, rather than working solely for a paycheck. I wondered if I could nibble, just a bit, from the altar.
Here is how I came to my own understanding that Rose’s warning is well founded: look at the dilemma of the spiritual teacher who has no source of income except their teaching. The exigencies of daily life don’t magically disappear: rent, utility bills, food on the table, medical expenses, and insurance. Perhaps there is a growing organization around the teacher: paid staff, an office, a retreat center – all demanding constant monetary input. The trouble is, there is only one product, the teaching, and if people don’t buy, the whole organization goes bankrupt. It doesn’t take much imagination to feel the pressure of overdue bills, mounting credit card payments, and uncertainty about that next paycheck. “Maybe we should raise the price of the next retreat? Maybe we get another book published quickly? Or we write something for a broader audience?” Compounding the problem is that honest spiritual teachings are a lot like the second razor I described: imperfect, imprecise, they require testing and modification, they may work for some, but not for others.
The teacher becomes a salesperson and the product is molded to fit the demands of the market. Like many a musical group, they produce one original work, then “sell out” under pressure to continue the momentum of success. Enumerated processes that produce results immediately grab the attention of the spiritual consumer. “Three Keys to Enlightenment,” “The Seven Steps to Awakening,” “101 Ways to Happiness.” The teacher realizes if they speak with conviction and authority, people will listen. Another tactic is to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Chain restaurants make a fortune catering to our most basic tastes such as sweetness and saltiness. Spiritual teachers promise health, wealth, and happiness.
Some teachers spawn new teachers and create formal and informal hierarchies. It reminds me of the “grade” inflation in many martial arts schools. I was once told that black belts were based on the fact that as students spent years in practice their originally white belts got dirtier and dirtier. Since trading in your dirty, worn-out belt meant losing an obvious marker of your dedication, some clever person made a black belt instead. Today, there are all sorts of colors and even levels of black belt. Why? Because students want progress. They are paying to learn a skill, but also many are paying to feel better about themselves – to feel more powerful and more unique. So the teachers hand out belts and trophies to keep the students returning… and paying. The teacher appoints other students to go out and start teaching on their own; thus indirectly pointing to the success of their teaching.
The same forces are at play in spiritual teachings. If you spend ten or twenty years teaching, and not one student becomes enlightened, how will that affect the market value of your teaching? You must keep the students happy, interested, and feeling like they are making progress otherwise your meal ticket will walk. The preacher is beholden to their congregation. If they are too challenging, too controversial, too much of a free thinker, if they upset too many people, they will find themselves without a house.
Other teachers, unfortunately, start out at the bottom of the slippery slope. They are outright frauds intent on using sales psychology to support their addictions through the wallets of their students. Yet, there are well-meaning, even wise teachers who make a living from their teachings. There is nothing inherently “wrong” with charging for a spiritual teaching. It does not automatically mean that the person is not enlightened. The potential is there, though, that this enlightened being has rationalized a behavior that is not in the best interest of their students. Consciously or unconsciously, quickly or slowly, it is highly likely that, over time, their teaching will prostitute itself to the needs of the teacher’s lifestyle.
My advice for the teacher: keep your teachings free, or at cost, or on a true donation basis (by “true” I mean don’t stick a sign on the table saying “Donation: $20”). If you are going to charge, truly don’t give a damn whether you thrive or starve. Be true to your message no matter what. Be honest about what you know and what you don’t.
My advice for the student: warily approach teachers who are obviously making a living from their teaching. It will become apparent whether the teacher or organization is more concerned with providing a service or collecting revenue. Even if you disagree with my warning, from a practical standpoint, it probably takes a lot of students to support that one teacher, so your odds of getting any “face time” are slim. You are likely to be one among an auditorium full of worshippers. Is that what you really need? Lastly, be doubly wary of anyone who charges you to speak to them one-on-one. Think of a friend: he might charge you for a book he wrote, or to attend his public talk, but would he charge you to come over to his house, or talk to you on the phone? That communion feels sacred to me, and its contamination with money points to one who has not truly seen the illusion and beauty of this place.