Alms For An Old Ex-Leper?

There's a story in one of the more ancient parts of the Upanishads which TS Eliot used as the basis for part of The Waste Land, called What the Thunder Said.

The Gods, the devils and men approach Prajapati for teaching. Speaking out of a thunder cloud Prajapati says "Da". Each of the three hear this in their own way. The Gods hear "Dama" which means that they should control themselves, because they indulge in pleasure too much. The devils hear "Dayadhvam" which means that they should have compassion, because they are cruel. The men hear "Datta" which means that they should give alms, because they are naturally mean.

Shankara explains that this refers to three types of men, but it is hard not to feel that stinginess is a particularly human quality, and that spiritual progress depends on avoiding its clutches.

The way the School is arranged does help with this, in that we have the "second-line" - work for others. But it seems that too often "work for others" means just "work for the School". Once, it was easy to understand why - there were so many needs within the School. It was a matter of survival. Now, however, it can easily become too much like feathering the nest. The School is like our extended family, and so "work for the School" is "work for me and mine".

One of the principal reasons the School is vulnerable to criticism is that it does relatively little for others. From that alone, it is easy to see that we are not really at the cutting edge, because everyone knows that spiritual people have more to give than others. The discipline of “Datta” – giving to others – should be enshrined in our hearts.

Meanness is self-defeating, because people instinctively do not care about an organisation that takes care of itself first. Charitable donations have, in the Treasurer's words, "fallen off a cliff". About seven years ago, when St James started to raise its fees to commercial levels, I can well remember a wealthy non-School parent saying, "well, if that's their attitude, I'm not going to spend my free time decorating their buildings".

At the same time, the London School has itself has become inadvertently wealthy, due to the efforts of our fellow Londoners (see Henry George on why Sarum Chase was worth £10m – no, not the beeswax polish! Try again!). How, may I ask, are we going to return these dubiously-gotten gains?

Suggestions on a postcard, please.