This is the second installment of a five-part series on organizational development for Buddhist communities.
Introduction
When Shakyamuni Buddha twirled a flower on the Vulture Peak, his disciple Mahakasyapa smiled. Tradition tells us this smile signaled Mahakasyapa’s realization of the direct, wordless transmission of the complete Dharma.
The anecdote roots us firmly in the origin story of Buddhism, but presents an extremely truncated synopsis when critiqued from the continuum of the next 2,600 years. That “transmission” was only a liminal moment bridging the past and the future—not the whole story.
When Buddhist teachers think about transmission, what does it entail? Surely it must comprise not just confidence in the student’s grasp of doctrine, ritual, and correct intention, and not just recognition of the student’s maturity and ability to don the mantle of role model, but also an aspiration for that teacher-to-be to be successful in continuing the lineage.
As the composer Gustav Mahler once said, riffing on an earlier quote from Thomas More, “Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.” That motif could easily be transposed to the East simply by substituting the word “lineage” for “tradition.”
So the key question becomes: what does it take to preserve the fire? Or, taking a Buddhist metaphor, what is needed for the transmission of the lamp?
The answer lies in the third of the Three Jewels: sangha.
Understanding tensegrity in Buddhist communities
You may remember that in Zen monasteries, the tenzo runs the kitchen and holds an outsized role in the sustenance of practitioners. He—or she, these days—also often serves as counterpoint to the head teacher in terms of transmission. When students get a bit too far into their heads, the tenzo brings them back to our embodied reality. Let’s expand the metaphor. The tenzo represents one part of the constellation of administrative functions required to run a Buddhist organization, which are as important to the community’s well-being as the teaching is. As Thomas Bruner put it in a message to me, “The abbot has to balance the East Hall and the West Hall.”
Many people imagine that the balance can be upset because a teacher has grandiose visions of their role and mission, weak managerial skills, and a tendency to disempower students. There is, sadly, no shortage of examples of this, and mainstream media tends to amplify the trope. However, sometimes it is the board of directors, comprised of lay community members, who hold the power. Then the unrealistic expectations are directed toward the teacher, who is tasked with being on call 24/7, being all things to all people, and heading for burnout as a result.
Guiding teachers, abbots, and others are often on the board, too. That makes sense but can also complicate things in terms of balance of power, boundaries, deference toward the teacher, and so on, especially when they—the teachers—are in over their heads in terms of management and administration.
Add to this the fact that most Buddhist communities are decentralized and pretty much on their own where strategic planning, fundraising, and management are concerned. One community may be well-endowed, while another may not be. One community may be progressive in its outlook, while another may be more traditional and conservative. Lineage affiliations are often quite informal.
As Rick McDaniel once noted in his overview of Zen in the West, you can go to a Catholic church service in any city on the planet and the service will be pretty much the same. But you can go to two Zen centers in the same city in North America and find them wildly different in their approach.
Yes, the fundamentals of foresight and strategic planning are relatively universal, and it is essential for every Buddhist community to recognize their importance. However, because of the vast differences in the size, situation, and culture of each community, the emphasis should be on applying the process rather than focusing on expectations, prior assumptions, or outcomes.
Testing my theories
To broaden my understanding of how different Buddhist communities see foresight and strategic planning, I reached out to several folks I know, along with Thomas Bruner. These included: Laura Sugimoto in Calgary, Alberta, executive director for the Jodo Shinshu Buddhist Temples of Canada, a national network of 11 local communities; Venerable Rory Tasker, translator for Geshe Sonam at Lama Yeshe Ling Centre, in Burlington, Ontario, which is part of the Foundation for the Preservation of Mahayana Tradition network; and Bhikkhuni Thich nu Quang, abbess at Little Heron Hermitage in Hamilton, Ontario.
Water is free, but plumbing costs money
As Tasker explained to me, Lama Yeshe Ling offers all of their teaching on a dana basis. Everything is free and supported by donations. They are very low key about asking for donations, which is certainly not always the case in other Buddhist centers! They simply remind program participants that “you may not be paying for this, but somebody is.”
The expectation that the Buddhist teachings can and should be offered freely puts Buddhist communities on a collision course with financial reality. As a result, fundraising often becomes the driving force and central pillar of strategic planning, even though it is but one aspect of the big picture. This financial bypassing is quite different from financial expectations in churches and synagogues.
For example, the Lenz Foundation, which funds many Buddhist initiatives, recently polled grantees about their top challenges, in order to plan a series of workshops designed to empower those grantees to meet the moment. The overwhelming response was: we need help fundraising. So the foundation created a series of four workshops on fundraising for grantees, running from February to May this year. The first was a fundraising overview. The second presented case studies and two success stories. The third features presentations from high-performing fundraisers sharing how fundraising became a sustainable practice—and a core part of their Buddhist path. The fourth focusses on family and youth programs.
The wrinkle is that the focus, resources, and needs of Buddhist organizations are extremely diverse. What works for a largely white, convert sangha in an urban setting will not necessarily work for an Asian-origin sangha with a rural base. And, of course, what works for a sangha in a physical place will not necessarily work for a sangha that is primarily online.
In another sort of difficulty with transmission, I know of an aspirational national organization whose founders have spent an inordinate amount of time drafting their strategic plan over several years, but who have failed to establish buy-in from a grassroots network of Buddhist communities whom they seek to serve. Their organization consists of little more than pieces of paper over which a handful of stakeholders fitfully wrangle.
Leadership opportunities for lay members?
When I asked about how lay community members might prepare for leadership roles, Sugimoto, Tasker, and Quang all told me that, in their communities, committed volunteers have opportunities that involve formal training in liturgy, ritual, meditation instruction, and so on. In other words, this path leads to ordination and taking the teacher’s seat. Traditional forms of training have also needed modification because program delivery since the pandemic has migrated in many cases to an online format. However, said training does not include learning about governance, financial management, program design, outreach, and a number of other crucial topics. It is all still very much a work in progress. And this is why I’m constantly harping on the premise that we need to be teaching the Buddhism of the future, not the past. Foresight may be a bit of a gamble, but it’s a whole bunch better than simply relying on hindsight!
So what about an actual Strategic Plan?
The majority of Buddhist centers in North America are small, independent, and loosely affiliated with other organizations in their own lineage. For example, while the Buddhist Churches of America has a formal strategic plan, their Canadian counterpart does not. Similarly, small Zen centers who are part of the Soto Zen Buddhist Association may benefit from the strategic planning initiatives created by others in their 300+ membership. One often must tap one’s network, because strategic plans are not typically available to the public.
Perhaps the best way to introduce strategic planning here is simply to direct you to some existing plans! Noted in the “see more” section are several sample strategic plans from Buddhist organizations.
And on the flip side . . .
Buddhist perspectives have also found their way into mainstream secular strategic planning praxis. Understanding how other types of organizations see Buddhism in a positive light can provide revelations about how we might see ourselves and incorporate some of those perspectives in our foresight and strategic planning. I’ve included a few links below to articles explaining what that looks like.
In conclusion
If the raft to bring us to the other shore must cross turbulent waters—and who would disagree with the observation that our modern world is nothing if not turbulent—it needs a rudder and a keel to stay on course. The teacher works the rudder, and the board of directors is the keel. We also need a map, because if we don’t know where we’re going, we might wind up somewhere else.
At the end of the day, we’re talking about two interdependent things: temples/centers are both places of spiritual practice and nonprofit organizations. To be healthy and sustainable our temples and centers need to be both spiritually and organizationally healthy. Having a clear strategic plan as our map is just one indicator of organizational health.
John Harvey Negru is publisher at The Sumeru Press, Canada’s largest independent Buddhist book publisher, and author most recently of Engaged Buddhism: 50 Collected Essays, Interviews, and Profiles 2020-2025 (Sumeru, Spring 2026). He has been involved in many Buddhist community development projects and environmental causes over the past 50 years, and has been a technological design educator for more than 25 years.
Many of the articles featured in this column are based on topics from his 2018 book, Bodhisattva 4.0: A Primer for Engaged Buddhists.
Bodhisattva 4.0 is published monthly.
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Centering Sangha, Part 2: Foresight and Strategic Planning
This is the second installment of a five-part series on organizational development for Buddhist communities.
Introduction
When Shakyamuni Buddha twirled a flower on the Vulture Peak, his disciple Mahakasyapa smiled. Tradition tells us this smile signaled Mahakasyapa’s realization of the direct, wordless transmission of the complete Dharma.
The anecdote roots us firmly in the origin story of Buddhism, but presents an extremely truncated synopsis when critiqued from the continuum of the next 2,600 years. That “transmission” was only a liminal moment bridging the past and the future—not the whole story.
When Buddhist teachers think about transmission, what does it entail? Surely it must comprise not just confidence in the student’s grasp of doctrine, ritual, and correct intention, and not just recognition of the student’s maturity and ability to don the mantle of role model, but also an aspiration for that teacher-to-be to be successful in continuing the lineage.
As the composer Gustav Mahler once said, riffing on an earlier quote from Thomas More, “Tradition is not the worship of ashes, but the preservation of fire.” That motif could easily be transposed to the East simply by substituting the word “lineage” for “tradition.”
So the key question becomes: what does it take to preserve the fire? Or, taking a Buddhist metaphor, what is needed for the transmission of the lamp?
The answer lies in the third of the Three Jewels: sangha.
Understanding tensegrity in Buddhist communities
You may remember that in Zen monasteries, the tenzo runs the kitchen and holds an outsized role in the sustenance of practitioners. He—or she, these days—also often serves as counterpoint to the head teacher in terms of transmission. When students get a bit too far into their heads, the tenzo brings them back to our embodied reality. Let’s expand the metaphor. The tenzo represents one part of the constellation of administrative functions required to run a Buddhist organization, which are as important to the community’s well-being as the teaching is. As Thomas Bruner put it in a message to me, “The abbot has to balance the East Hall and the West Hall.”
Many people imagine that the balance can be upset because a teacher has grandiose visions of their role and mission, weak managerial skills, and a tendency to disempower students. There is, sadly, no shortage of examples of this, and mainstream media tends to amplify the trope. However, sometimes it is the board of directors, comprised of lay community members, who hold the power. Then the unrealistic expectations are directed toward the teacher, who is tasked with being on call 24/7, being all things to all people, and heading for burnout as a result.
Guiding teachers, abbots, and others are often on the board, too. That makes sense but can also complicate things in terms of balance of power, boundaries, deference toward the teacher, and so on, especially when they—the teachers—are in over their heads in terms of management and administration.
Add to this the fact that most Buddhist communities are decentralized and pretty much on their own where strategic planning, fundraising, and management are concerned. One community may be well-endowed, while another may not be. One community may be progressive in its outlook, while another may be more traditional and conservative. Lineage affiliations are often quite informal.
As Rick McDaniel once noted in his overview of Zen in the West, you can go to a Catholic church service in any city on the planet and the service will be pretty much the same. But you can go to two Zen centers in the same city in North America and find them wildly different in their approach.
Yes, the fundamentals of foresight and strategic planning are relatively universal, and it is essential for every Buddhist community to recognize their importance. However, because of the vast differences in the size, situation, and culture of each community, the emphasis should be on applying the process rather than focusing on expectations, prior assumptions, or outcomes.
Testing my theories
To broaden my understanding of how different Buddhist communities see foresight and strategic planning, I reached out to several folks I know, along with Thomas Bruner. These included: Laura Sugimoto in Calgary, Alberta, executive director for the Jodo Shinshu Buddhist Temples of Canada, a national network of 11 local communities; Venerable Rory Tasker, translator for Geshe Sonam at Lama Yeshe Ling Centre, in Burlington, Ontario, which is part of the Foundation for the Preservation of Mahayana Tradition network; and Bhikkhuni Thich nu Quang, abbess at Little Heron Hermitage in Hamilton, Ontario.
Water is free, but plumbing costs money
As Tasker explained to me, Lama Yeshe Ling offers all of their teaching on a dana basis. Everything is free and supported by donations. They are very low key about asking for donations, which is certainly not always the case in other Buddhist centers! They simply remind program participants that “you may not be paying for this, but somebody is.”
The expectation that the Buddhist teachings can and should be offered freely puts Buddhist communities on a collision course with financial reality. As a result, fundraising often becomes the driving force and central pillar of strategic planning, even though it is but one aspect of the big picture. This financial bypassing is quite different from financial expectations in churches and synagogues.
For example, the Lenz Foundation, which funds many Buddhist initiatives, recently polled grantees about their top challenges, in order to plan a series of workshops designed to empower those grantees to meet the moment. The overwhelming response was: we need help fundraising. So the foundation created a series of four workshops on fundraising for grantees, running from February to May this year. The first was a fundraising overview. The second presented case studies and two success stories. The third features presentations from high-performing fundraisers sharing how fundraising became a sustainable practice—and a core part of their Buddhist path. The fourth focusses on family and youth programs.
The wrinkle is that the focus, resources, and needs of Buddhist organizations are extremely diverse. What works for a largely white, convert sangha in an urban setting will not necessarily work for an Asian-origin sangha with a rural base. And, of course, what works for a sangha in a physical place will not necessarily work for a sangha that is primarily online.
In another sort of difficulty with transmission, I know of an aspirational national organization whose founders have spent an inordinate amount of time drafting their strategic plan over several years, but who have failed to establish buy-in from a grassroots network of Buddhist communities whom they seek to serve. Their organization consists of little more than pieces of paper over which a handful of stakeholders fitfully wrangle.
Leadership opportunities for lay members?
When I asked about how lay community members might prepare for leadership roles, Sugimoto, Tasker, and Quang all told me that, in their communities, committed volunteers have opportunities that involve formal training in liturgy, ritual, meditation instruction, and so on. In other words, this path leads to ordination and taking the teacher’s seat. Traditional forms of training have also needed modification because program delivery since the pandemic has migrated in many cases to an online format. However, said training does not include learning about governance, financial management, program design, outreach, and a number of other crucial topics. It is all still very much a work in progress. And this is why I’m constantly harping on the premise that we need to be teaching the Buddhism of the future, not the past. Foresight may be a bit of a gamble, but it’s a whole bunch better than simply relying on hindsight!
So what about an actual Strategic Plan?
The majority of Buddhist centers in North America are small, independent, and loosely affiliated with other organizations in their own lineage. For example, while the Buddhist Churches of America has a formal strategic plan, their Canadian counterpart does not. Similarly, small Zen centers who are part of the Soto Zen Buddhist Association may benefit from the strategic planning initiatives created by others in their 300+ membership. One often must tap one’s network, because strategic plans are not typically available to the public.
Perhaps the best way to introduce strategic planning here is simply to direct you to some existing plans! Noted in the “see more” section are several sample strategic plans from Buddhist organizations.
And on the flip side . . .
Buddhist perspectives have also found their way into mainstream secular strategic planning praxis. Understanding how other types of organizations see Buddhism in a positive light can provide revelations about how we might see ourselves and incorporate some of those perspectives in our foresight and strategic planning. I’ve included a few links below to articles explaining what that looks like.
In conclusion
If the raft to bring us to the other shore must cross turbulent waters—and who would disagree with the observation that our modern world is nothing if not turbulent—it needs a rudder and a keel to stay on course. The teacher works the rudder, and the board of directors is the keel. We also need a map, because if we don’t know where we’re going, we might wind up somewhere else.
At the end of the day, we’re talking about two interdependent things: temples/centers are both places of spiritual practice and nonprofit organizations. To be healthy and sustainable our temples and centers need to be both spiritually and organizationally healthy. Having a clear strategic plan as our map is just one indicator of organizational health.
See more
Strategic Plan 2019-2022 (Bright Way Zen)
Strategic Plan 2019 (Dharma Rain Zen Center)
Strategic Plan 2025-2030 (Institute of Buddhist Studies)
EBU Strategy and Action Plan 2023 (European Buddhist Union)
Strategic Plan 2015-2020 (International Buddhist Association)
Opening Outwards: Embracing and Sustaining the Growth of the Ecumenical Buddhist Society 2018 (Ecumenical Buddhist Society of Little Rock)
Applying a Buddhist Lens to Organizational Change (The HR Director)
Buddhism and Organizational Management (Kelaniya Journal of Management)
Buddhist Change Management Model: A Pathway to Holistic Organizational Transformation (Academia.edu)
Related features from BDG
Centering Sangha: A Five-Part Series on Organizational Development for Buddhist Communities (Part 1)
Connected, Yet Untethered: Rediscovering Sangha
The Story of the Buddha’s Mahāparinibbāṇa, the Saṅgha’s Schism, and the First Two Buddhist Councils
Embracing Sangha, Meditation, and Love in Hard Times – Wisdom from Thich Nhat Hanh
Tibetan Buddhist Nuns: An Overlooked Pillar of the Four-fold Sangha
One Earth Sangha: Celebrating 10 Years of EcoDharma
Young Voices: A Prescription for Digital Millennials: Sanghas
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