Since coming to China we have visited many temples and holy mountains. Everywhere in China the old practices of worship are apparent. In Xiangtan we have visited a Taoist temple several times. A friend of ours showed us the temple and acts as translator whenever we visit it. It is an old temple supported solely by the people, not refurbished with government funds. It stands back from the river, in a small courtyard. You enter through a large ornate gate. It has now be renovated and has a small restaurant above the gate for the benefit of guests who visit the temple. The food served there is vegetarian. In the middle of the courtyard is a eight-sided statue with the yin/yang symbol carved on it, along with the different trigrams of the I Ching, or Book of Changes, one on each side of the octagonal base.
Behind the statue is a two-story temple. The bottom floor has a large seated figure in the center. There are cushions to knee on, and a place for incense and candles to be burned. Often a large spiral of incense is hanging from the ceiling. It is about 3 feet in height and 2 feet in diameter at the bottom. In honor of one of our visits the priest lit a new incense spiral while we were there. He said it would burn continuously for two weeks. There are also two rooms, one on each side of the central room. The rooms are very Spartan. The priest keeps his robe and other belongings in one of the rooms and the other is used for the other members of the group. The second floor has a long stairway leading up to it along the courtyard wall. There is a very large drum at the top of the stairs and several long stone tablets leaning against the front walls. These are carved with old Chinese characters, apparently containing some of the history of the temple. The inside room has another large figurine in the middle of the room. Along both sides are smaller figurines in many different poses. I believe these are supposed to be some of the lesser gods. Behind the central figurine are three more medium-sized statues. Around the perimeter, incense and red candles are burning. The building has seen a lot of use. The figurines are old, the paint faded and chipped, the ceiling covered with cobwebs, the cloth above the statues faded to light yellow from the original bright gold. Its age gives it authenticity. It is not ornate or opulent, but merely a simple place for common people to worship and associate with one another.
The first time we visited the temple we came with a group of people -- ourselves, our friend and his wife and son, aged four, and some friends our friend. We sat and talked and sipped tea with the head of the temple while the children explored the upstairs and the courtyard. Our children were versed that this was considered a holy place and they should behave accordingly, but our friend's son did not understand. After talking for a while the priest asked Tim if he would like to throw the bones. A cow's foot is cloven. The Taoists apparently use the hoof part as a way to foresee the future. Two toes are thrown. The combination of how they land decides the answer to your question. Out of respect for their beliefs Tim threw the toes of the cow. The priest reacted with surprise, blinking and shaking his head. He said something and our friend translated it as "God will protect you." Tim and I looked at each other and answered, "We know!" The priest then gave the toes back to Tim, saying he had two more throws because of the first answer. The next throw was one of general well being, and the third again was the same as the first -- "God will protect you." The priest wanted to talk further, but the children were getting hungry and a little wild. We thanked him and excused ourselves, telling him we would come back next week without the children so we could talk.
Next week Tim and our friend returned to the temple. They spent over an hour talking with priest about Taoist beliefs. At the deeper levels, Taoism shares many concepts with other religions. Once you agree that words such as God and Tao mean the same thing, it's easy to build understanding and comradeship. Our friend translated. Sometimes he would give a very short translation of a long answer, or vice versa.
It was several months later before we were able to return again. The summer had passed and it was fall again. An outing was arranged with ourselves and our friend and the other foreign teachers who were now at our university. Tim and I felt uncomfortable going with the other teachers. We were hoping to continue the discussion from where we had left off. At the last minute the other teachers ended up with conflicting events, so we went alone with our friend. Again we were given tea. This time the tea had a very smoky flavor. It tasted like no tea I have ever drunk. I can't say I liked it very much, but courtesy had precedent, so I drank and smiled my thanks. The head priest we had talked to before was away at a blessing ceremony. We talked with an old man who proudly told us that he was 70 years old. He had been raised in his family as a Taoist, as the religion spread mostly through family members. In his young adulthood he was a Taoist priest, however, during the Cultural Revolution (and maybe before that time, too; I don't remember exactly) he had to stop openly practicing his religion. All religion was frowned upon at that time and he had many very difficult years. More he would not tell us. He did say that he that during that time he joined the Hunan opera group as an actor and player of the horn and the drums. He brought out old photo albums that showed himself made up in many characters -- young man, old man, beautiful woman, etc. He also proudly showed us photos of him playing a straight horn, something like a short clarinet. He was glad that he was able to be a professional Taoist once again.
The priest brought out his robes to show us, off-white for daily use and black for ceremonial use. He dressed Tim in the ceremonial robe. The robe crossed over in the front and had sleeves two feet longer than Tim's arms. These, he explained, were used in gestures during ceremonies to carry different meanings. On Tim's head he placed a triangular shaped hat. A band about three inches in width encircled the front of the hat, again in black, but trimmed in gold. Where it reached the back of the head it became a long collar that flowed over the back of the shoulder for several feet down the back. The two ends were decorated by yin/yang symbols. Tim looked pretty good as a Taoist priest when he struck a dignified pose. (Yes, believe it or not, he can do that occasionally.) Everything about the robes involved special traditions, from the way they were folded to the prayers chanted when they were put on.
Before we left the old priest invited us to a Taoist dedication ceremony that was coming up in a few days. The temple was the Taoist center for Xiangtan County, and the festival would include Taoists from all over the county. It was possible to arrange our schedules to fit the event, so we accepted. He asked if he could bless us by offering a prayer of protection for our children at the ceremony. After some discussion we agreed that, since he really seemed to want to do this, we would honor his suggestion. Our children's Chinese names were given to him as well as their birth dates and their present address. We asked if could donate some money, but he said that could be done later, so we left it at that.
The day of the dedication ceremony arrived with overcast skies and a slight drizzle falling. The priest's son picked us up at our apartment in his truck, alone with his wife and our friend, who would translate for us as usual. We drove south for two hours and finally turned down a muddy track into a small village nestled between low hills. The drizzle ceased. No rain had fallen here in the past several days so it was fairly dry. We were told the priest had said a prayer to keep the rain away, but the important figurines were under a protective awning, just in case. The head priest greeted us warmly and led us to a room full of women. The inevitable tea followed. The old priest was writing on yellow colored paper in black and red ink. He not only wrote characters, but also symbolic figures of dragons, women, men, and other symbols. Each had a special meaning. The intricacy was amazing. The blessing for a child was written on a different sized paper than the protection prayer for a woman during pregnancy. Different symbols were used for men, women, and children. The more elaborate prayers were several feet in length with red ink highlighting the words and symbols and characters. A member of the family was supposed to hold the prayer in a small wood-and-tissue-paper box when it was burned, so the prayer would ascend to the God.
Our old friend asked again about a prayer for the children and we agreed they could do one. We asked what would be an appropriate amount to donate for that kind of ceremony. He said usually 130 yuan per child, but that we could donate whatever our hearts lead us to donate. Apparently, his wife wanted us to pay more. During the negotiations the mayor of the village decided that we hadn't agreed to pay enough. He said we should pay 1000 yuan if we expected the first place in the ceremony. We explained that we it didn't matter to us when the prayer was read, and the priest reiterated that we could pay as we were moved to pay. In the end we did what our hearts guided us to do, giving a little more than we originally had told the priest we were going to give. Everyone seemed satisfied with the decision. We sure see the wisdom now of not accepting money from people who are not of your faith. It was only because we were determined to be extremely polite and not to let money become an object of contention that we were able to avoid a problem.
We were given a delicious vegetarian lunch that we thoroughly enjoyed. We made friends with two old women who were helping to serve the food. We made sure they understood that we found the food wonderful and really appreciated their hard work. Before we finished, Tim took pictures of the women looking out over the valley. Before the main ceremony all the food was vegetarian as Taoism was based on the belief in vegetarianism, so we had come on the right day to eat. After the festival's final ceremony the next day, there would be a sit-down feast for 800 people: 80 tables, 10 to a table, 15 yuan a person. Meat would be served at that feast. All the people of the village and the surrounding community were at the ceremony. Apparently a man who was considered very devout and wise had lived there hundreds of years ago. Many people considered him a sage and came to him for advice. After his death the people still came, praying to him for guidance and protection. This continued for many years, until he became regarded as the god of the area. A temple was built where people could come to worship him, and priests started visiting and then staying. Today the local people still believe that he protects their village from natural and manmade disasters. Every three years the temple is rededicated and the protection renewed throughout the village and surrounding countryside. On the site of the man's grave a small temple now sits. You may go in and say prayers. We always say a prayer for unity whenever we visit temples. Three large effigies were made out of tissue paper and bamboo. These were placed over the shoulders of men and then carried in a parade throughout the length of the valley, about a 10-kilometer circuit. The effigies were taller than a person, elaborated decorated with gold tissue paper and with faces, hats, and clothes. The leading effigy was made out of red tissue paper and carried an ax in his hand; the following two were made out of black tissue paper and carried flags. The black outfits resembled the black robes worn by the priests for formal ceremonies, only much fancier. Everyone in the village followed the parade to the beginning of the rice fields. Eventually about one hundred people carrying incense and candles followed, accompanied by a small local band of horns and drums. We were told that the figures would go through the rice fields to visit each of the small local shrines that were scattered around the valley.
After they were out of sight the majority of the people returned to stand and exchange gossip. Of course, Tim and I were the center of attention. The women were amazed at my height; most of them only came up to my shoulders. I had great fun talking to them in Chinese about how tall the rest of my family was and about our children; they were in school as it was Friday. I had rescheduled my one class in order to be able to go. The women were very delighted to have me repeat my answers over and over again, which was just fine with me because I didn't how to say anything else. They asked Tim how old he was and exclaimed in surprise. Many had thought he was in his late sixties due to the gray in his beard and the light color of his hair. All were very friendly and eager to let us see their babies and try to talk with us. Some of the bolder children would come up and say a word in English and then run off laughing. We always answered them back in kind.
One man about 70 years old came up and talked to us. He had been a young boy of 12 when an American pilot was shot down in the valley during World War II. He and his family had helped care for and hide the foreigner for several weeks. A message was sent to Chang Kai Shek's army, and after a few days four more foreign soldiers arrived to retrieve the man. The old man had never forgotten the event and still remembered a few of the English words he had picked up during that time: hello, conversation, what is your name, etc. Apparently we were the first foreigners to return to the village since the 1940's. After spending half an hour talking we begged to be allowed to leave, as our children would get out of school soon. After a final picture we climbed into the truck again and headed home. It was certainly a day to remember.
Postscript: Later I was reading a book that I had found in our university library, written by an American who had lived in China from about 1947 to 1980. In one chapter he was describing the religious attitude of some villagers he had observed. When there was a drought, they would show great respect to their effigies and pray to them for rain. If no rain came, however, they would take the effigies down and give them a good beating. To them, I suppose, this was simply manifest justice. Perhaps this story offers a lesson to anyone who would invest himself with more than a normal station in life. Perhaps it also goes to show that there are many levels of understanding, and many ways to "commune" with that supreme essence that some people call "Tao."
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