AmCham arrow Publications arrow Topics Archive arrow Topics Archive 2003 arrow Vol.33- No.9 arrow Taipei Touring: Lungshan Temple --- Gateway to a Rich Tradition
Taipei Touring: Lungshan Temple --- Gateway to a Rich Tradition PDF Print E-mail

One of the most popular tourist sites in Taipei, this distinguished temple is a good place to gain an introduction to Chinese religion, literature, myths, and architecture.

 


Here is a good place to start getting familiar with many aspects of Chinese culture -- religious practices, temple architecture, and the myths and legends behind many of the decorations. By Regus Patoff For expatriates and inbound tourists alike, the first visit to a Chinese temple is very much like the first day off the plane in Taipei -- sensory overload from all the unusual sights, sounds, and smells, with taste and touch soon coming into play as well. How does one sort all this out? The best advice is to take it slow. Do a casual half-hour walk-through, sitting down occasionally on a ledge or steps to rest and scan the sights, ranging from the ornate rooftops to the courtyard flagstones. It helps to have reasonable expectations. Don't try to see everything in one visit. Chinese temples, like Gothic cathedrals, have to be "read" slowly. The stories told in wood, cloth, stone, porcelain, and glass are rich in tradition. Temples are architecturally complex, with layers of iconography drawing upon Chinese religious traditions, geomancy, myth, history, literature, and philosophy. They are rich cultural repositories and offer substantial rewards to those interested in learning about things Chinese. A particularly good place to experience the best of temple tradition in northern Taiwan is the justly famed Lungshan ("Dragon Mountain") Temple. Located in Wanhua, formerly known as Manka, an old section in the southwestern corner of Taipei, the temple is one of the three or four most popular tourist sites in the city. It is also one of the easiest to reach, thanks to Taipei's swift, clean, and cheap Mass Rapid Transit system. The MRT's Lungshan Temple station is only a block away from the temple's main gate, and most of that distance is under a covered walkway lined with stalls selling fruit and juices, Taiwanese snack food (much of it in the "guts and things" category), or herbs and cooking spices. The most abundant services, however, are from fortunetellers. A dozen or so practitioners have cubbyhole operations along the sidewalk, complete with charts, reference works, and photos of satisfied customers on the walls. They do a brisk business, day and night. Just beyond this string of shops are the Lungshan Temple walls, lined with vendors selling snack foods, incense, offertory flower arrangements, and cuisine for the gods. In line with the traditional demands of Chinese fengshui (geomancy), the temple is aligned on a north-south axis with its entrance at the southern extreme facing Guangzhou Street. In earlier times the temple had a pond south of the main gate, but that tribute to traditional design has long been overridden by the heavy demands on space in the city. The temple is now tightly hemmed in by a surrounding neighborhood of shops, high-rises, continuing construction on MRT station facilities, and a modern market center. Because water is important to a temple's spiritual efficacy, however, a compromise can be seen inside the main entrance. To the right is a high artificial cliff with a waterfall that pours into a carp pool surrounded by ferns and other foliage. The sound is soothing and, during the summer months, the waterfall provides at least the semblance of air-conditioning. The left side of the entrance is balanced with another small pool and fountain surrounded by a flower garden. In the center is a large rectangular entranceway courtyard fronting the temple's five main doors. This space, usually crowded with people, is occasionally used for cultural presentations, including a recent international drum festival, as well as popular festival activities such as puppet shows. Once visitors step through the main entrance, they are immediately enveloped by the temple's extraordinary architecture, the result of building, rebuilding, and decoration that has gone on for hundreds of years. The process continues. Throughout 2003, repairs and repainting have been under way on temple roofs, eaves, and the capitals at the top of many interior columns. Despite covered areas here and there, mixed with stacks of ladders and temporary superstructures for workmen, the temple remains open. For this is not just an historical site -- it is also a functioning temple, filled day and night with worshippers. Visitors, including those toting cameras, need not worry about interrupting people at worship. Most believers come alone or with a friend or family members. Prayers and meditation are individual, not congregational, although one occasionally sees groups of monks or nuns joined by laypersons in chanting from Buddhist texts available from one of the temple's side halls. Hedging One's Cosmic Bets Is this a Buddhist temple? Yes and no. At the time of its establishment in 1738, Lungshan was dedicated to the Buddhist Goddess of Mercy -- Kuan Yin in Chinese, or Avalokitesvara in Sanskrit. The temple was actually named after a "mother" Lungshan Temple in Jinjiang County, Fujian Province. Early in the eighteenth century, greater numbers of Fujianese began crossing the Taiwan Strait to settle. Since no community could be considered complete without a temple, pious followers erected a branch temple at Manka and gave it the same name as their home temple. While Lungshan has always retained its original nature as a Buddhist temple, over the years many Taoist and folk gods have joined Kuan Yin and the other Buddhist deities in its pantheon. Kuan Yin holds the place of honor at the center of the main hall, while most of the latecomers are concentrated in the rear hall. And it is not unusual to see worshippers burning incense and praying to an assortment of deities from different religious traditions. It's a practical way of covering all your cosmic bets. Today's Lungshan Temple has been rebuilt and renovated several times. According to temple records, a major earthquake in 1817 forced a complete rebuilding, as did a typhoon in 1867. Another thorough rebuilding program started in 1919 and took roughly six years to complete. It was during this latter renovation that the lake fronting the temple was filled in and turned into a park. Eventually the park was taken over by vendors and became a market area. Another catastrophe hit the temple toward the end of World War II, when an American incendiary bomb hit the temple complex in June 1945. The bomb struck the main hall, destroying it and most of the temple's west wing. Miraculously, the image of Kuan Yin in the main hall sustained no damage beyond a coating of soot and ashes covering her face and clothing. It took more than a decade in the poor post-war years before people were able to organize and collect enough money to rebuild the temple. The reconstructed temple of today was dedicated in 1959. It consists of three major parts -- a front hall, a main hall in the center, and a rear hall at the northern edge of the complex. A bell tower on the east and a drum tower on the west bisect the single-story temple buildings that line the inside of the eastern and western walls. Except during festivals and other special occasions, the middle three doors of Lungshan's front hall remain closed. Worshippers usually use the eastern door on the right, after a quick stop at the line of water spigots nearby to ritually clean their hands. Just inside this door are places to purchase incense, foodstuffs, and water and soft drinks. A few steps around to the left bring you to the inside of the front hall. A long altar piled with food offerings, candles, and other religious paraphernalia fills the center of this space. But there is still plenty of room for the score or more worshippers bowing with incense clasped in both hands, several nuns resting on kneelers and reading Buddhist texts, and a few kids running back and forth to escape parental supervision. Invariably, several individuals are here making prayer promises prior to casting two pieces of wood on the floor to pose a question to the gods. Flat on one side and curved on the other, these palm-sized, kidney-shaped pieces make one of the distinct sounds associated with Chinese temples when they clatter on the flagstones. If the pieces fall with one flat side up and the other down, this is a positive reply to the supplicant's query. Both flat sides up is a "no," while both convex sides up means the gods are laughing -- and the question, somewhat rephrased, can be tried again. When petitioners require guidance beyond a yes-or-no answer, they shake a bunch of thin bamboo sticks in a container, select the one protruding the farthest, read the number thereon, and return the stick to the holder. Then they go to a room along the eastern wall to obtain the numbered strip of paper that corresponds with the stick. For a small fee, temple personnel will interpret the oracular poems on these strips. What sort of questions can be asked? Anything. About love and marriage, health and wealth, safety and danger, work and study. The gods are ready. The front hall also provides the first heavy concentration of incense smoke, which assails the nose and even the taste buds. Fortunately, it rarely has a cloying odor or flavor, and after a few minutes the intense attack on the senses seems to dissipate. The middle hall is fronted by a huge urn with tall sticks of burning incense and is approached by climbing low stairs that are divided by a slanting stone screen filled with a swirling high-relief dragon. A low fence lined with worshippers cordons off the entrance to the main hall. Enshrined inside the high ceilinged and ornately appointed room, centered at the rear, is Kuan Yin. More than twenty guardian deities and figures at her side aesthetically counterpoint her majestic image. Many of these are richly dressed in ritual costumes in complex designs and riotous colors. The rear hall bearing Taoist deities was added only around the end of the eighteenth century after the Qing Court designated Manka as an official port for trade with the Fujian ports of Quanzhou and Fuzhou. As a result of the prosperous business, the merchant guild erected the rear hall to venerate their patron Matsu, the Goddess of the Sea, to pray for protection for the ships plying the route. The center of the rear hall is devoted to veneration of Matsu, who nowadays is regarded by many as the patron goddess of Taiwan. The left side is dedicated to the gods of literature, the patrons of civil service examinations. The right is for Lord Kuan, the famous general of the Three Kingdoms period who was revered for his benevolence, propriety, wisdom, and valor. As other temples were torn down to make way for streets and other city development, many of their gods were transferred to Lungshan Temple and many of these still crowd the rear hall. There appears to be a god or goddess particularly qualified to handle any petition a worshipper might make. Don't Neglect the Details After taking in the "big picture" of Lungshan Temple, take some time to examine the intricate details. Here the pleasures are nearly endless, if one has the time and the inclination. One of the most overwhelming initial sights is the temple's highly ornate roof decorations. These swoop down and under the eaves, where they seem to become even more complex and ornate. What is this all about? Glazed tiles have been used for a least a thousand years on the roofs of Chinese temples and imperial buildings, but it was only during the eighteenth century that craftsmen began decorating temple roofs with complex arrangements of the ceramic human and animal figures called jien nien. The term literally means "cut and paste" and describes the basic process of making these colorful figures. A temple's jien nien is one of its most outstanding visual characteristics. Since many new temples are still being built and old ones are being repaired or expanded, jien nien craftsmanship is in little danger of dying out in Taiwan -- although modern methods and materials are changing some of the traditional aesthetics. In China, jien nien workmanship is found primarily in the south. The style is said to have originated in Guangdong Province before being introduced to Fujian Province and then Taiwan. Later, when temple construction boomed in Taiwan during the 1920s, a large number of mainland craftsmen crossed the Taiwan Strait to help decorate the new buildings. To eyes used to the simpler lines of Confucian-style buildings, temple roofs with jien nien human and animal figures may appear gaudy and cluttered. But closer examination of the figures themselves, as well as of their cultural meaning, produces a different evaluation. These figures give vivid insights into the history, literature, myths, and religion of China. For example, a complex scene along the peak of a temple roof may tell a story from ancient history, complete with mounted generals, foot soldiers, and servants. Or it may portray a happier scene, with three auspicious gods extending their good will to all viewers from their lofty perch. Strikingly, those on the ground can look up and actually make out facial expressions, even though the figures are less than a foot tall and high above them. The figures are also genuinely lifelike because of their active postures -- as if caught and frozen for an instant in the midst of a battle, moral disputation, court-case monologue, or moment of intense reflection. No less impressive are the representations of auspicious symbols such as pagodas, flowers, birds, and phoenixes, dragons, and other mythical beasts, as well as the miniature reproduction of official residences, gardens, decorative bridges, and pavilions. Traditional jien nien actually turned waste into art, because flawed or broken ceramic and porcelain bowls were used in the construction. The skeleton of each object was made of iron wire. (Nowadays it is more common to use cement and stainless steel wire when making the basic shape.) The craftsmen then mixed asbestos, lime, cane syrup, and even honey into a soft, plastic mass that was placed over the frame and modeled into the rough contours of human figures, animals, or plants. At that point the ceramic shards were affixed to the still-soft mass, paint was applied, and the figures were hardened through a firing process. Look carefully at the roof of the main hall and under the roof eaves, both outside and inside the temple. Although many of these figures are faded and in some cases crumbling, they still have an attractive intensity. Instead of a cluttered mass, one begins to make out the layers of colorful scenes that ebb and flow around the curved roof lines. These are in turn matched in woodcarving on the horizontal beams and the sparrow braces that link them with the vertical beams that hang down under the eaves and terminate in the shape of massed lotus blossoms or other flowers. Moving one's eyes over Chinese temple architecture is like watching a rapidly changing slide show, as scene after scene flows by, first in ceramic, then in wood, and finally in stone. For the jien nien figures, craftsmen generally choose whatever color they liked for the figures, except for emperors -- who were supposed to be dressed in imperial yellow -- and certain historical and folk heroes. For instance, General Cao Cao, a ruler in China's Three Kingdoms Period (220-265), was always depicted wearing a black hat and red robes. Changes Over Time The craft has gone through many changes since it was first introduced to Taiwan several generations ago. The use of bowl fragments from China and Japan declined after the end of the Japanese occupation at the close of World War II. Today, colored glass is more frequently used in new and recently renovated temples. It is cheaper and more readily available, easier to cut and shape, and has brighter colors. But there is a genuine difference between the aesthetic power of the traditional and modern materials. The glass figures seem feeble, thin, and gaudy compared to their more robust ceramic cousins. Visitors to Lungshan temple can judge for themselves, as the front hall still has superb samples of ceramic figures, while the back hall has recently reconstructed roof figures, including large dragons, made from glass. These are much more colorful, with some hues extending into decidedly acrylic varieties. Jien nien are usually set along the main swallow-tailed ridge at the peak of temple roofs, and on the two so-called hanging ridges that extend down the front of the roof at right angles to the peak. Most Taiwan temples have a pagoda, pearl, or the three gods of happiness, wealth, and longevity at the top-center of the roof. Dragons, as well as flowers and birds (usually phoenixes), often flank these figures. There are variations in the selection of figures according to the deities enshrined in the temples. Strictly Buddhist temples usually do not have jien nien, but if they do, they draw the material for the rooftop scenes from Buddhist scriptures instead of folk tales. Strictly speaking, the temples with jien nien are neither purely Taoist nor Buddhist; they honor folk gods. The various categories of scenes depicted by rooftop jien nien are repeated in wood and stone closer to the ground. Look at the ceilings inside Lungshan Temple's front and middle halls. Woodcarvers have richly embellished the front panels of many beams that help support the heavy temple roofs. Court scenes and family motifs in household settings as well as battle scenes make these spaces a riot of action -- framed by decorative motifs such as trees, flowers, twisting vines, waves, or stylized clouds. Look lower to find stone wall and window panels also intricately carved with similar designs. The sources of these stories are often famous Chinese operas, which draw in turn from famous literary and historical stories, such as The Romance of the Three Kingdoms or The Legend of Deification. Episodes in these books were later adapted and embellished to become legends in religious Taoism and Buddhism. Other carvings draw upon mythology, including major exploits of the Yellow Emperor, the legendary first ruler of China. Tradition is expressed in other ways, even the shape of windows. Two impressive stone windows flank the center doors of the main hall. The middle of the panel is carved all the way through in an eight-sided frame surrounding four soaring dragons. The eight sides represent the ba-gua, the eight major symbols found in I Ching, a classic divination text. Incidentally, bas-relief bats occupy the four corners of these window screens. Why? "Bat" in Chinese is pronounced fu and is a homonym for "good luck." Throughout the temple are seemingly countless bas-relief panels with sinuous dragons surrounding a stylized censer, paired birds (representing loyalty) resting on a branch bursting with plum blossoms, and other once well-known historical scenes and folk tales. "Once well-known" is unfortunately the rule, not the exception these days. It is increasingly difficult to find anyone who can explain temple iconography. For visitors to Lungshan temple, two pamphlets (in Chinese with partial English and Japanese translations) are on sale at the information desk inside the western entranceway to the front hall, but these lack detail even in the Chinese version. It is surprising that one of the premier tourist attractions in Taipei has so little back-up support. Officials from the foreign ministry, Government Information Office, and Council of Cultural Affairs, for instance, have long taken overseas guests to Lungshan Temple for a taste of Taiwan's living religious traditions. As the government seeks to increase its tourism attractiveness -- and local people strive to encourage more scholarship and interest in local history -- the private religious foundation operating the temple could benefit from more support for research and publications. Cultural preservation is more than renovating temple facilities; it is also about reinvigorating people's cultural memory. Adding depth and breadth to the information available at cultural spots such as local temples would be a boon to residents and visitors alike. Meanwhile, expert or not, visitors won't be disappointed with the sensory delights of Taipei's Lungshan Temple.
 
[ Back ]