A Buddhist Pilgrimage to the Mountain in the Sea — Part 3
Divine Forms (Jade Buddha Temple, Shanghai)
A statue of the Buddha is peace personified. The graceful posture in which it sits, the resting eyes and the calm features all suggest a deep level of tranquility that we all yearn for. It is a powerful image that is now ever-present in the West, even to the point of being overused: it is there in restaurants and massage parlours, bookshops and yoga studios, living rooms, and gardens. The Buddha statue escaped its original, spiritual setting of the temple or family altar, and made its home in secular spaces, sometimes to the advantage, sometimes to the distortion of its message.
It’s an interesting fact that Buddha statues were not always part of Buddhist practice. In fact, in the most ancient Buddhist monuments, the Buddha is not shown at all: he is instead represented symbolically by an image of his footprint, an empty meditation seat, or the bodhi tree where he reached awakening. This is usually seen as a sign of an effort by early Buddhists to direct attention towards the message of the Buddha rather than his personage, which he himself emphasised was not important. In the Pali Canon, some of the earliest Buddhist scriptures, the Buddha says:
(…) this describes the Thus Come One (the Buddha): “the Dhamma body”, that is, “the Divine body”, or “become Dhamma”, that is, “become Divine”.
— Aggañña Sutta
The meaning of course is that the Buddha is only important inasmuch he is the manifestation of the teaching (Dhamma in Pali, Dharma in Sanskrit). If one worships the Buddha, but doesn’t practice the teaching, it’s as if one has done nothing. Representing the Buddha only by symbols was a strategy to prevent precisely this, the development of a “cult of personality”, that focuses on empty ritualism instead of actual inner work.
It’s another interesting fact that even though Buddha statues are often employed to project a sort of “oriental” atmosphere in certain businesses, in all likelihood the first of them were created in northern India due to Western influences. It was Alexander’s armies that brought their gods and their Greek depictions with them to the East, and this lead to the beginnings of what is called the Gandhara period in Buddhist art: the creation of the first anthropomorphic depictions of the Buddha, in a positively Greek style. Interestingly, on some depictions we can even find the Buddha surrounded by Greek gods. Today, if we walk into a temple of the Wind God (Fujin, 風神) in Japan, we can easily recognise the wind bag that he carries as a distant descendant of the wind bag of Boreas, the Greek god of the Northern Wind.
Today, most Buddhist temples are unimaginable without some statue of the Buddha, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing. In the Mahayana tradition (the more widespread version of Buddhism) Buddha statues have been contextualised as instruments of meditational focus, through which one can be inspired to practice. In a Chinese Buddhist ceremony, practitioners are encouraged to see the Buddha statue as an actual living Buddha, as a mental strategy to develop the right attitude in cultivation. Statues and images of Buddhas and Bodhisattvas play a significant part in today’s Buddhist practice, as they represent not only the historical founder of the Buddhist tradition, but perhaps more importantly, Buddha nature, the potential for mental purity that is present in all beings, and indeed, in all things.
The story of the Jade Buddha Temple begins at Putuo Mountain. During the Qing dynasty, a monk named Huigen, who was resident in a temple at Guanyin’s island, went on a pilgrimage through Mount Emei and Tibet, all the way to Burma. From here, he brought back at least two jade Buddha statues, that were donated to him. When he got back, he founded a temple to house them, that was the ancestor of today’s Jade Buddha Temple. Since then, the old temple has been destroyed, and a new home for the statues have been built in the current location, in Shanghai’s Putuo district (named after Putuo road, which in turn was named after Putuo Mountain).
Of the two jade Buddhas one is a sitting, and the other is a smaller, reclining Buddha (representing the moment of the Buddha’s death, or as it is called in the Buddhist tradition, final Nirvana). We have visited the first one, which is housed in the back of the temple in a small room on the second floor, and can be seen in exchange for a second ticket. Unfortunately no photography is allowed in the room, so we can not show it here — but we found that the recently renovated temple had a lot of other wonders to offer as well.
The story of Putuo mountain itself also starts with a monk on a pilgrimage, and a sacred statue that he brought back with him. In the year 841, a Japanese monk named Egaku took a pilgrimage too Mount Wutai, considered to be the home of Wenshu, the Bodhisattva of Wisdom in China. There he acquired a statue of Guanyin, that he wanted to take back with him to Japan. On his way back, he rested in a temple in Ningbo (a popular stop for many pilgrimages to Putuo, including ours), and then set sail from its harbour towards Japan.
The legend says that even though the statue was made out of wood, as they were taking it aboard the ship in Ningbo, it became extremely heavy, and it became almost impossible to carry. In the end it took the concerted effort of several men to bring it on board.
As Egaku’s ship was sailing past Putuo island, a sudden storm broke out, which washed it on a reef close to a sea cave called the Cave of Tidal Sounds, where it became stranded. That night, Egaku had a dream, in which Guanyin spoke to him:
“If you place me on this mountain, I will command the winds to send you on your way.”
Egaku then brought the statue ashore. In the words of the Zhou Gazetteer of 1607:
He made a silent prostration toward the Cave of Tidal Sounds, and was able to reach the shore. There he put the image at the entrance of the cave. [Later] a man named Zhang built a small temple to enshrine it. People often observed miracles and strange occurrences there [in the cave].
Ever since that time, Guanyin made Putuo Mountain Her home. The small temple was later developed into a larger shrine called the Hall of Guanyin who Didn’t Want to Leave (不肯去觀音院).
Entering the Jade Buddha temple, we stepped into a small courtyard. Most Chinese temples follow the same structure, which is modelled after ancient palaces. The temple is the palace of the Buddha, Bodhisattva, or deity it houses, and when we enter, we are guests in the palace.
Opening from the front courtyard is the first hall of the temple, the Hall of the Four Heavenly Kings. They are protective deities of the four directions, who are tasked with protecting the Dharma, and its practitioners. Like all Buddhist supernatural beings, they represent certain features of the mind, and teachings associated with training the mind. The Four Heavenly Kings protect the Dharma — they embody teachings about how we can protect our practice from decline.
The King of the North is considered the leader of the Heavenly Kings. His name is Duowen (多聞), meaning “All-hearing” (Vaiśravaṇa in Sanskrit). He teaches us to seek out and listen to the Buddha’s teaching, as the primary method to sustain our practice. Without listening first, it is impossible to practice.
The King of the South is called Zengzhang (增長), meaning “Growth-increasing” (Virūḍhaka in Sanskrit). His name is related to the idea of good roots, an important idea in Buddhism. All our actions are like plants, they grow out of seeds and roots in the mind. The plants eventually become a forest — our whole life experience. If we make sure that we water and attend to our good roots — our wisdom, our compassion, our integrity — it will lead to the development of a garden of happiness.
The King of the East is Chiguo (持國), meaning “Realm-bearer” (Dhṛtarāṣṭra in Sanskrit). He holds a guitar-like instrument in his hands, as he is also considered to be the god of music, and all sorts of harmonies. He teaches us to maintain harmonious relationships in our communities, to make our practice more sustainable.
Finally, the King of the West is called Guangmu (廣目), meaning “Broad-focused” (Virūpākṣa in Sanskrit). His teaching is that our practice shouldn’t be focused on our own personal benefit, but we should take a broader view of those around us. If we only focus on ourselves, it’s easy to stop practicing whenever life brings us down. However if we think about the benefits of our practice to others as well, we can be motivated enough to keep going even if times are hard.
(The Buddha said:)
“Good son, if living beings in any land need someone in the body of a Buddha in order to be saved, Guan Shi Yin Bodhisattva appears as a Buddha and teaches the Dharma for them.
“For those who need someone in the body of a Solitary Buddha, (…) a Noble Disciple, (…) Brahma King, (…) Indra, (…) a Divine Lord, (…) a Great Divine Lord, (…) a Heavenly General, (…) the All-hearing Heavenly King, (…) a king, (…) an elder, (…) an ordinary citizen, (…) an official, (…) a priest, (…) a monk, a nun, a lay practitioner — man or woman, (…) a wife, (…) a boy or a girl, (…) a Heavenly Being, a dragon, a satyr, a centaur, an asura, a griffin, a chimera, a python, a human, or a non-human, (…) a Vajra-holding Dharma Protector, in order to be saved, Guanyin appears in such a body and teaches the Dharma for them.”
— Lotus Sutra, Chapter 25: The Universal Gateway
Compassion can take any number of forms. According to the Lotus Sutra, different people have different needs to guide them towards wisdom — some will listen to an ordinary human being, some need the image of a god to be moved. Guanyin represents the true nature of Wisdom and Compassion — without form, only responding to the needs of those that need to be saved (remember, She even appears as a Daoist goddess, as we’ve seen in Shanghai’s City God Temple). Signs of care and guidance is everywhere around us: if we open ourselves to growth, the teaching will come in one form or another.
We regularly refer to Guanyin as a “She”, because that’s how She is conceived in Chinese popular imagination, and that is how we connect to Her as well. From its earliest times, the Buddhist tradition has used the image of a mother’s love “for her child, her only child” to represent the Buddhist ideal of Love — it’s a universal archetype that we can all relate to. Perhaps this is the reason why — even though in India, Buddhism’s homeland Guanyin (in Sanskrit: Avalokiteśvara) was pictured as male, today most practitioners relate to Her in a female form. Of course, in truth, the Bodhisattva is beyond forms, beyond genders — just as the mind and Compassion is.
As strongly as a mother, perhaps risking her life, cherishes her child, her only child, develop an unlimited heart for all beings.
Develop an unlimited heart of friendliness for the entire universe, sending loving-kindness above, below, and all around, beyond all narrowness, beyond all rivalry, beyond all hatred.
Whether you are staying in one place or travelling, sitting down or in bed, in all your waking hours rest in this mindfulness, which is known as like living in heaven right here and now!
— Karaniya Metta Sutta, beautifully translated by Ratnaprabha
The main structure of any Buddhist temple is usually located inside the inner courtyard: the Main Hall, or the Hall of the Great Hero (大雄宝殿). The name “Great Hero” refers to the Buddha — according to the Dhammapada (103-105), an early collection of the Buddha’s sayings:
“The one who conquers himself, the victor over his own mind, achieves a conquest which can never be undone, a victory greater than that of the mightiest warriors.”
There is another famous miracle story that is told in connection with the Guanyin statue at Putuo Mountain. It’s about two young pilgrim girls — sisters-in-law — who made their way to the island, to pray to the Bodhisattva. (It’s worth mentioning that the pilgrimage at Putuo was always especially popular with women unaccompanied by men, a feature that traditionalist Confucians didn’t always look at with kind eye.) As they arrived at the island’s harbour, the younger girl told the older one that she had her period. As in olden times it was considered impure to enter the sacred site in this state (no such restriction exists today), she was told by the older to stay behind, while she went to pray.
As time went on, the tide rose, so that the area surrounding the boat was completely submerged by water. Even though the young girl was getting hungry, she was unable to get out to get herself some food. Luckily, an older lady walked by the harbour, who was willing to help her: she threw some stepping stones in the water, walked over to the boat, and presented her with a meal.
When the older girl came back and heard the story, she got a strange feeling that it might have been Guanyin who appeared as an old lady. She rushed back to the temple, and wonderfully, the bottom of the statue’s robes were still wet from Her trip to the harbour.
Guanyin doesn’t discriminate between “pure” and “impure”, just as true Compassion shouldn’t.
Listen my disciple, Sariputra,
emptiness defines all phenomena:
none of them come into being, and none of them fall,
none of them defiled, and none of them pure,
none of them decrease, and none of them grow.
— Heart Sutra
Behind the beautifully maintained front part of the temple, we found a different world: a courtyard of smaller shrines covered in smoke, people burning candles, incense, and spirit money to gain the favour of supernatural beings.
The shrines we found here were also shops, selling items like Buddha statues, incense, and talismans. In many places, this is the reality of folk religious practices: the lofty aims of mental cultivation and awakening for all sentient beings are replaced by the more immediate concerns of health, relationships, money, and a good destination after death. There is of course nothing wrong with this: if we are wise, we realise the distinctions that appear here ultimately aren’t real either.
There is also a deeper meaning to burning incense in front of the image of a Buddha or a Bodhisattva. Practicing wisdom, we must recognise that awakened beings in reality have no need for physical offerings or worship — burning incense can be a mindfulness practice: mindfulness of our desires, our values, and our goals. It is said in the scriptures that the sweetest scent is that of a life lived well: this is the best offering to the Buddha.
Since Buddhas and Bodhisattvas are ultimately are own Awakened Mind, when we burn incense to them, it is an expression of where our values lie: we communicate to our minds and to the Universe our aim of transcending the illusions and habitual tendencies that keep us from manifesting a pure mind. It is also customary to burn three sticks at once, symbolising the Threefold Training of Meditation, Moral Practice, and Developing Insight.
身与花落
心将香飛
Though our bodies like the flowers fall,
Our hearts with the fragrant incense fly.
— Shōryō-shū by Kūkai
When we finished paying our respects and exploring, we headed to the pilgrims’ restaurant for a vegan meal. In China (and all other countries that received Buddhism through China, like Japan and Korea), monks eat vegetarian (mainly vegan, actually) meals to avoid harming animals as much as possible. In many temples they serve the same kind of temple food in dedicated restaurants. Due to the fact that these recipes have been developing for centuries, they represent not only a good ethical choice, but they also have a high culinary value.
For our next stop, we are heading out of Shanghai, to the Qibao Water Village, to explore its ancient canals, a smaller and a larger temple, and even some local delicacies.
To be continued.
