Bhante Piyatissa was good to bhikkhunis.
When I was staying in Sri Lanka, some laypeople in Greenville, SC, USA, invited me to return to the 'States to keep open their little house-temple (Carolina Buddhist Vihara), after they had gone through several bhikkhu residents in a short time. I agreed. Then I researched and learned that this vihara had been founded a few years earlier not as an independent centre, but as a branch of the renowned New York Buddhist Vihara.
I informed the laity that they’d need permission from Bhante Piyatissa to put a bhikkhuni in residence. To shift a monastery from male to female (or vice versa) would be a big deal under any circumstance, but we female-monks were much more controversial back then.
To our relief, he kindly agreed. The Greenville Vihara gave me a place to land, and steady support for the next 8 ½ years. It later gave another wandering bhikkkhuni a place to land and support for 7 years so far.
On new and full moon days, we bhikkhunis have the duty and the right to request a teaching, called Ovāda, from the most revered bhikkhus. But there in Greenville, SC, I lived far from any English-speaking elder Theravada bhikkhu; the closest lived in Atlanta. So I telephoned my teacher Bhante G in West Virginia. He was willing to go along with phone-call Ovāda exhortations. But over time, I found him often out of town or not answering the phone that day. A few times when Bhante G wasn’t available I tried calling several other monks in the USA, without success, as they either weren’t senior enough or didn’t want to get involved. (When I had asked a group of bhikkhunis in Sri Lanka whether phone call Ovādas may be okay in my large country where monks may not be found for hundreds of miles, they scorned me with laughter.) One day I decided to try Bhante Piyatissa.
Ven Piyatissa was held in great esteem, and I hadn’t yet met him in person. My hands literally shook as I phoned and asked his permission to do this thing. Bhante kindly agreed!
For the next half-dozen years or so, he always kindly accepted my calls every two weeks. We hardly ever missed a moon day (a few times it slipped my mind so I phoned too late at night, and a few other times he was out of town, but that’s probably all that we missed.) He gave encouraging exhortations, usually related to meritorious deeds, and he often reminded me how precious it is to get to live the holy life. He always ended by reminding me to seek to attain Nibbāna, then chanting a blessing for me. His participation helped dignify my living of the holy life.
Whenever I went to NYC (regularly invited by a Vihara near his that would record my Dhamma talks for a cable TV show), I would always visit Bhante’s large vihara, where he welcomed me warmly like an old friend, not just a very junior monastic.
Over the years, Bhante’s strength deteriorated; an attendant would bring him the phone when I called, as he could no longer walk well. His voice also slowly deteriorated, becoming soft and distorted, making it hard to understand by phone. The sad day came, about 5 years ago, that I failed to understand anything he had said to me in greetings and in his Ovāda talk. Not a word. (I tried to respond appropriately by guessing what he was saying, and said thanks at what I hoped was his ending pause and not somewhere midway.) That was our last call.
(Around the same time, I learned that some of my sister bhikkhunis were joining together on Skype conference calls to receive the twice-monthly Ovāda talks from Bhante G, and I soon joined them.)
May Bhante Piyatissa attain Nibbāna without returning to the suffering of this world!