Sorting Through Religious Faith and Practice in China
I'm trying to sort through what religious faith and practice play in China. Are there practices and beliefs and traditions in which people take pride? Which the government discourages, even seeks to suppress--or at least tries to manage? Which though banned may be growing?
Here I'll try to share more of my questions and experiences than my answers; I have more of the former than the latter.
At left is the Dongyue Temple here in Beijing, the largest Taoist Temple in northern China. Taoism is said to have become an organized philosophical and religious system several centuries before the "Common Era" or Christian Era, growing out of earlier indigenous Chinese traditions of shamanism and beliefs about human relationships with the natural world. In this photo above, we see a very old tree, over half a millennium old, on which people in a Chinese tour group are leaving small red wooden markers with prayer requests.
What drew my attention in particular at this temple were the several dozen "dioramas" depicting Taoist beliefs. This one (at right) encouraged people not to harm innocent animal (as well as human) life, and we see a dog, a chicken, and a rabbit who might have died had those holding them not decided to use their knives. Another in the series of rooms encouraged people to treat animals and birds in nature with care as well.
Pausing to read the English translation of the Chinese words describing the meaning of each diorama, it seemed the theme of much of this temple was to provide a "real-life" reminder of how we are supposed to live, who we are meant to be--and the rewards that await us if we live as we should, and the punishments that, likewise, are our due if we do not, in the form or messenge such as those depicted in the photo below. Scary, even 600 years later!
Taoism and Confucian thought are the two "most Chinese" religious practices, but in what I've seen and heard are ones in which many Chinese still take some pride (and which the government seems to feel comfortable with as a national heritage, and which do not seem to challenge government rule).
I saw perhaps a dozen Chinese tour groups visiting the temple. People seemed to be interested in exploring their heritage and history. Some were also leaving prayers (red markers with different messages could be bought at the gift shop), and I was one of the few non-Chinese exploring the temple grounds. On the other hand the tour guides (at least a few) were also showing their groups how to do the traditional motions of Taoist prayer, the beginning of which we see in the photo below. I don't know, really, how much of what I was seeing was in the nature of a religious pilgrimage, or a more conventional tour of historic religious sites.
In contrast, Buddhism came to China from India (and so is not "native" to China), though about the same time as Taoism (Third century B.C.E.) was becoming a more organized practice. For all practical purposes Buddhism has often felt like a Chinese religious tradition, at least the varieties of Buddhism practiced here, and I think it feels "Chinese" to those who follow that faith--stopping by temples to pray, for example, or hearing the call of Buddhist ethical practices, or of a theology describing how one may find release from earthly suffering by reincarnation over time, depending on how we have lived the life before.
I've found Buddhist temples vary widely in terms of who visits and who prays. At left is the "White Stupa Buddhist Temple," with what is said to be the tallest stupa or pagoda or dagoba (as I've heard it said in China). There were few visitors around the day I stopped by, though two people were engaging in the traditional practice of circling the base of the stupa a number of times (an older man walking, a young woman jogging around it). No tour groups.
The most visited Buddhist temple in Beijing is the Lama Temple (one of a number of more Tibetan temples in the area north of the ancient core of Beijing). One sees tour groups from many countries, as well as people lighting incense and praying, or going to the series of temples on the grounds to pray. It might be that there is wider interest in seeing the temple because of the controversies over Chinese policies and control in Tibet itself, as well as the popularity of the Dalai Lama, in exile in India. The importance to the Chinese government of claiming Tibet as part of historical China (which would otherwise evidently be more or less under theocratic rule of the Buddhist religious leadership) has made the Chinese government more likely to seek to control and suppress Buddhist leadership there (the presence of Taoism, on the other hand, poses no such practical political opposition, and can be safely respected at a historical distance). We went to a major exhibit on Tibetan religious images and art at the Capital Museum before we were due to leave China, and though we saw a wonderful exhibit there was no mention at all about Chinese policies towards Tibet or Buddhist followers there.
At right we see the South Cathedral near downtown Beijing. It's the latest version of a Catholic church established at that site in the early 1700's by French Catholic priests; earlier versions were destroyed, but rebuilt three times. It serves a variety of Catholic communities, and in the liturgy I attended Chinese, French and English was used; at the latest service I was at, it was a noonday Sunday service in Spanish and Italian. Immigrants from French-speaking African countries have been at a service I attended, as China-Africa ties become more prevalent. (Photo below: Italian/Spanish with girls in white dresses process in, led by the priest).
China's approach to Catholicism since the 1949 revolution seems to be one of "management." The new government broke relations with the Vatican in 1951, and seems to have found (perhaps among other objections) that the new government's claim to the people's loyalty was threatened by the Pope's traditional claim to be a higher authority, particularly in matters of church organization. South Cathedral's priests and bishops have in fact been appointed by the Chinese government, which denies the Pope's right to independent authority to do so. Priests loyal to Rome have been suppressed, and some imprisoned, but churches like South Cathedral's seem to be able to operate in a way that most Catholics regard as an acceptable compromise. At least, when I've been there, it's not an almost empty church, in the way one might see for mass in some of the great European cathedrals.
Protestant Christianity seems to be more difficult for the Chinese government to accept, and those who attend the more evangelical "house churches" may do so in secret to avoid punishments like having one's facility bulldozed. On the other hand, churches made up entirely of non-Chinese citizens (the ex-pat community or visitors from abroad like myself) can openly attend services, often involving worshippers from many nations; however, both the church websites and bulletins state that due to Chinese law no one can attend who does not hold a non-Chinese passport to assure that local Chinese do not get in (though in fact I haven't actually seen anyone checking passports when I've gone to a service).
The photos above and at left are of Gangwashi Christian Church, once a Presbyterian mission church established in the 1860's as the Western presence became more widespread in China. It sits next to a gray-brick "hutong" or traditional neighborhood. It was closed for some years, but reopened in 1980. Everyone else in the pews seemed to be local Chinese folks, with only a couple of outsiders like myself (kindly and surprisingly offered a headset for simultaneous translation--not easy for the woman translating a sermon which is very Bible-based with its own terms and language). Folks were very friendly, and several who saw me wandering when I arrived came over and said hi ("nie has"), and pulled me along into the sanctuary where I was shown a seat. The service itself was all in Chinese, and the sanctuary (simple in design, no stained glass windows, just regular window glass) was largely filled. The day was warm, and after a while (the sermon was long) some heads began to drop a bit and people sometimes dozed, even among those sitting up front in the choir. It was a good experience, and my only question as I left was where did this church fit in to the ambivalence (and sometimes persecution) of Christian churches which I'd heard of? I don't know!
Marx and Engels argued that religions were "the opiate of the people," giving meaning and hope and comfort for those oppressed by unjust social conditions: some day those who believed would find a better life, if not in this world. Yet something deep calls at least some, maybe many, to answers about what life is for beyond the promise of social reform and a better life on earth. What I find in China are so many varieties of religious tradition, practice, belief, and perhaps practice without "belief" in the Western sense of theology. Some estimate that there will be more practicing Christians (people going to church?) in China than in Europe in a few years, where people may cling to religious identities (and even national churches like in Scandinavia) without actually attending a service or visiting a temple or church to offer prayers. I'm in over my head here, trying to sort things out.
I'm not sure what religion itself is: opiate or liberation? Burden or blessing? A knock at the door, waiting our response, or a long passageway we enter without being able to have the end in sight (as in the photo at right)? Is religion the deeper part of culture? Necessarily social, or most felt as an individual? A comfort or a challenge? A guide to what we can best be, or a reminder of how we have (inevitably?) fallen short? Is religion "the answer,' or so often questions that challenge us?
As I wander about in China, sometimes visiting religious sites, sometimes seeing those who have a religious practice and faith, sometimes participating in religious practices when I'm drawn to them or seem welcome or am already part of them, these are some of the questions I think about. Sometimes I'm confused, sometimes struck by the beauty or heart-feltness of others, almost always aware of how little, really, I understand about the deeper aspects of old faiths I am seeing.
I conclude with this painting I saw in Beijing. It's a Buddhist scene, of a young boy who's at least temporarily a monk, at his studies. He is sitting at the foot of what appears to be one of the larger images of the Buddha, whose hand is in one of the gestures one sees, each of which has a meaning. The Buddha almost seems to be reaching down to the boy.
Note: I haven't mentioned Islam in this entry--we would like to have visited a mosque during Ramadan as we've done before in China, but the first day of that month-long observance was the same day we flew away.
We return home soon, but will do something by way of wrapping up when we can. perhaps once we're back home and re-oriented. Thanks for accompanying us on our journey.
Here I'll try to share more of my questions and experiences than my answers; I have more of the former than the latter.
At left is the Dongyue Temple here in Beijing, the largest Taoist Temple in northern China. Taoism is said to have become an organized philosophical and religious system several centuries before the "Common Era" or Christian Era, growing out of earlier indigenous Chinese traditions of shamanism and beliefs about human relationships with the natural world. In this photo above, we see a very old tree, over half a millennium old, on which people in a Chinese tour group are leaving small red wooden markers with prayer requests.
What drew my attention in particular at this temple were the several dozen "dioramas" depicting Taoist beliefs. This one (at right) encouraged people not to harm innocent animal (as well as human) life, and we see a dog, a chicken, and a rabbit who might have died had those holding them not decided to use their knives. Another in the series of rooms encouraged people to treat animals and birds in nature with care as well.
Pausing to read the English translation of the Chinese words describing the meaning of each diorama, it seemed the theme of much of this temple was to provide a "real-life" reminder of how we are supposed to live, who we are meant to be--and the rewards that await us if we live as we should, and the punishments that, likewise, are our due if we do not, in the form or messenge such as those depicted in the photo below. Scary, even 600 years later!
Taoism and Confucian thought are the two "most Chinese" religious practices, but in what I've seen and heard are ones in which many Chinese still take some pride (and which the government seems to feel comfortable with as a national heritage, and which do not seem to challenge government rule).
I saw perhaps a dozen Chinese tour groups visiting the temple. People seemed to be interested in exploring their heritage and history. Some were also leaving prayers (red markers with different messages could be bought at the gift shop), and I was one of the few non-Chinese exploring the temple grounds. On the other hand the tour guides (at least a few) were also showing their groups how to do the traditional motions of Taoist prayer, the beginning of which we see in the photo below. I don't know, really, how much of what I was seeing was in the nature of a religious pilgrimage, or a more conventional tour of historic religious sites.
In contrast, Buddhism came to China from India (and so is not "native" to China), though about the same time as Taoism (Third century B.C.E.) was becoming a more organized practice. For all practical purposes Buddhism has often felt like a Chinese religious tradition, at least the varieties of Buddhism practiced here, and I think it feels "Chinese" to those who follow that faith--stopping by temples to pray, for example, or hearing the call of Buddhist ethical practices, or of a theology describing how one may find release from earthly suffering by reincarnation over time, depending on how we have lived the life before.
I've found Buddhist temples vary widely in terms of who visits and who prays. At left is the "White Stupa Buddhist Temple," with what is said to be the tallest stupa or pagoda or dagoba (as I've heard it said in China). There were few visitors around the day I stopped by, though two people were engaging in the traditional practice of circling the base of the stupa a number of times (an older man walking, a young woman jogging around it). No tour groups.
The most visited Buddhist temple in Beijing is the Lama Temple (one of a number of more Tibetan temples in the area north of the ancient core of Beijing). One sees tour groups from many countries, as well as people lighting incense and praying, or going to the series of temples on the grounds to pray. It might be that there is wider interest in seeing the temple because of the controversies over Chinese policies and control in Tibet itself, as well as the popularity of the Dalai Lama, in exile in India. The importance to the Chinese government of claiming Tibet as part of historical China (which would otherwise evidently be more or less under theocratic rule of the Buddhist religious leadership) has made the Chinese government more likely to seek to control and suppress Buddhist leadership there (the presence of Taoism, on the other hand, poses no such practical political opposition, and can be safely respected at a historical distance). We went to a major exhibit on Tibetan religious images and art at the Capital Museum before we were due to leave China, and though we saw a wonderful exhibit there was no mention at all about Chinese policies towards Tibet or Buddhist followers there.
At right we see the South Cathedral near downtown Beijing. It's the latest version of a Catholic church established at that site in the early 1700's by French Catholic priests; earlier versions were destroyed, but rebuilt three times. It serves a variety of Catholic communities, and in the liturgy I attended Chinese, French and English was used; at the latest service I was at, it was a noonday Sunday service in Spanish and Italian. Immigrants from French-speaking African countries have been at a service I attended, as China-Africa ties become more prevalent. (Photo below: Italian/Spanish with girls in white dresses process in, led by the priest).
China's approach to Catholicism since the 1949 revolution seems to be one of "management." The new government broke relations with the Vatican in 1951, and seems to have found (perhaps among other objections) that the new government's claim to the people's loyalty was threatened by the Pope's traditional claim to be a higher authority, particularly in matters of church organization. South Cathedral's priests and bishops have in fact been appointed by the Chinese government, which denies the Pope's right to independent authority to do so. Priests loyal to Rome have been suppressed, and some imprisoned, but churches like South Cathedral's seem to be able to operate in a way that most Catholics regard as an acceptable compromise. At least, when I've been there, it's not an almost empty church, in the way one might see for mass in some of the great European cathedrals.
Protestant Christianity seems to be more difficult for the Chinese government to accept, and those who attend the more evangelical "house churches" may do so in secret to avoid punishments like having one's facility bulldozed. On the other hand, churches made up entirely of non-Chinese citizens (the ex-pat community or visitors from abroad like myself) can openly attend services, often involving worshippers from many nations; however, both the church websites and bulletins state that due to Chinese law no one can attend who does not hold a non-Chinese passport to assure that local Chinese do not get in (though in fact I haven't actually seen anyone checking passports when I've gone to a service).
The photos above and at left are of Gangwashi Christian Church, once a Presbyterian mission church established in the 1860's as the Western presence became more widespread in China. It sits next to a gray-brick "hutong" or traditional neighborhood. It was closed for some years, but reopened in 1980. Everyone else in the pews seemed to be local Chinese folks, with only a couple of outsiders like myself (kindly and surprisingly offered a headset for simultaneous translation--not easy for the woman translating a sermon which is very Bible-based with its own terms and language). Folks were very friendly, and several who saw me wandering when I arrived came over and said hi ("nie has"), and pulled me along into the sanctuary where I was shown a seat. The service itself was all in Chinese, and the sanctuary (simple in design, no stained glass windows, just regular window glass) was largely filled. The day was warm, and after a while (the sermon was long) some heads began to drop a bit and people sometimes dozed, even among those sitting up front in the choir. It was a good experience, and my only question as I left was where did this church fit in to the ambivalence (and sometimes persecution) of Christian churches which I'd heard of? I don't know!
Marx and Engels argued that religions were "the opiate of the people," giving meaning and hope and comfort for those oppressed by unjust social conditions: some day those who believed would find a better life, if not in this world. Yet something deep calls at least some, maybe many, to answers about what life is for beyond the promise of social reform and a better life on earth. What I find in China are so many varieties of religious tradition, practice, belief, and perhaps practice without "belief" in the Western sense of theology. Some estimate that there will be more practicing Christians (people going to church?) in China than in Europe in a few years, where people may cling to religious identities (and even national churches like in Scandinavia) without actually attending a service or visiting a temple or church to offer prayers. I'm in over my head here, trying to sort things out.
I'm not sure what religion itself is: opiate or liberation? Burden or blessing? A knock at the door, waiting our response, or a long passageway we enter without being able to have the end in sight (as in the photo at right)? Is religion the deeper part of culture? Necessarily social, or most felt as an individual? A comfort or a challenge? A guide to what we can best be, or a reminder of how we have (inevitably?) fallen short? Is religion "the answer,' or so often questions that challenge us?
As I wander about in China, sometimes visiting religious sites, sometimes seeing those who have a religious practice and faith, sometimes participating in religious practices when I'm drawn to them or seem welcome or am already part of them, these are some of the questions I think about. Sometimes I'm confused, sometimes struck by the beauty or heart-feltness of others, almost always aware of how little, really, I understand about the deeper aspects of old faiths I am seeing.
Note: I haven't mentioned Islam in this entry--we would like to have visited a mosque during Ramadan as we've done before in China, but the first day of that month-long observance was the same day we flew away.
We return home soon, but will do something by way of wrapping up when we can. perhaps once we're back home and re-oriented. Thanks for accompanying us on our journey.
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