Text and photographs by Melanie Radzicki McManus
August, 2012 Vol. 16, No. 9
A two-day stay opens the mind and frees the spirit.
Clutching our square, padded floor mats, we file into one of Beomeosa Temple’s Buddha halls, then set down the mats in neat rows off to the side of the main chamber. Several dozen of the temple’s 150 or so monks will soon be entering the hall for their evening worship ceremony, and as guests we’re allowed to observe this ancient ritual. We’ve also been given some basic instructions on how to participate in the reverencing portion of the worship ceremony, which will require repeatedly kneeling, touching our foreheads to the mat while raising our palms skyward, then standing.
As I’m going over this reverencing sequence in my head, hoping I won’t forget the proper order, the monks quietly enter the hall, their russet and gray robes softly swishing with each footstep. One of the monks rhythmically taps out a few beats on a hollowed-out gourd, and suddenly the room is filled with a deep, melodic buzz as the monks begin chanting a prayer in Buddhist Sanskrit. Mesmerized by the tone, which seems to swirl around the room, fill my body, then float outside into the twilight, I almost forget to start my first kneeling sequence.
For the next 30 minutes the worship ceremony continues. One of three held each day, it commemorates Buddha and the lives of Buddhism’s practitioners. The kneeling sequence becomes more difficult as my quads begin screaming in protest at this new and unusual workout, and I notice a few of my colleagues improvising a less taxing version. But the feeling of my burning quads fades as the hauntingly beautiful chanting transports me far beyond the everyday world.
Beomeosa Temple has been tucked into the foot of Geumjeong Mountain outside Busan, South Korea, for more than 1,300 years. And every single one of those days, at 6 p.m., monks have solemnly intoned this same soulful chant praising Buddha. The notes now seem to be part of the mountain itself, which absorbs each day’s new recitations while releasing whispers of tones uttered in the past, instilling in all privileged to hear them a message of hope, peace and joy. With another tapping of the gourd the monks’ voices are stilled, and I snap out of my reverie. It’s time to move on.
I’m fortunate to be experiencing this slice of Korean Buddhist temple life. As recently as 2002, it was unheard of. But that year the Korea/Japan World Cup depleted South Korea’s supply of hotel rooms, so Buddhist temples opened their doors to stranded fans. Entranced by their unintentional peek into the world of Buddhism, guests raved about their sleepover, and the Korean Templestay program was born. Today about 100 Buddhist temples scattered across South Korea’s mountainous terrain allow visitors to temporarily join their communities and sample Korean Buddhist culture, reflect or simply relax in stunning surroundings (most of the temples are in national or provincial parks). While the majority of the country’s templestay programs are geared toward groups, some allow individual guests. Korean is normally the only language spoken unless you book a stay at one of the temples offering English translation services, or secure one of the professional translators that is available.
My experience began earlier that afternoon, when I’d arrived with a group of colleagues. We’d all been attending a conference in Seoul, several hours northwest of here, and decided to try a templestay after reading about it in our conference materials.
An employee promptly greeted us and led us to our bunkhouse, a long room with a heated floor; we’d be issued a mat, pillow and blanket later. Next, we were fitted with a gray, rough cotton “monk uniform,” which consisted of a vest and pair of trousers big enough to fit the most super-sized American. Volunteers helped secure the ballooning pants, cinching them at our waist and ankles with matching ties.
I felt rather silly, like I’d stumbled into some comic costume party. But my giggles stopped when the staff began temple etiquette instruction. We must walk around the grounds in silence, our backs straight and our right hand clasped over the left, just under our belly button. We must bow in front of every Buddha hall. And we must never climb the middle set of stairs, which were reserved for Buddha himself. This was serious stuff. We weren’t here as mere observers, but true members of this Buddhist community.
After a lengthy temple tour in the fresh mountain air, which included peeks at the grand shrine (home to the temple’s main Buddha image), a 1,300-year-old stone lantern and a shrine sanctuary for the Goddess of Mercy, I couldn’t wait to dig into dinner. But as I kneeled on a pale brocade mat on the dining hall floor, Hye Su, the monk in charge of our group’s stay, told us through an interpreter that in Buddhist temples, eating is another form of spiritual practice. As such, a strict protocol is followed, which includes silently unwrapping your dinner bowls in a specific sequence and taking only 70 percent of the amount of food you think will fill you — then eating every speck. This indicates equality and solidarity with the world’s hungry. Afterwards, you rinse your bowls with hot water, scrub them with a radish slice, then eat the radish. Nothing must be wasted.
As I glanced at the small portion of food I’d scooped into my bowls, I caught Hye Su’s eye. He smiled approvingly. Good — I hadn’t been a pig. But would these few spoonfuls of cold veggies and fistful of rice sustain me? I didn’t have time to contemplate that, for it took all my concentration to avoid clanking my utensils as I ate.
The worship service followed, and now it was time for this temple’s “special activity” — making lotus lanterns. Lotus lanterns symbolize a sincere wish to light the universe with wisdom and compassion, Hye Su explains, and they drive away the darkness of ignorance. We will make a lantern, light it, then parade around the stone pagoda, a monument to Buddha. Grabbing some glue sticks, Hye Su shows us how to fashion a lantern out of a paper cup and brightly colored tissue paper. What would Buddha think, I wonder, if he could see 30 middle-aged Americans sprawled on the floor in one of his temples, wielding glue sticks and Dixie cups as they try to grab their favorite colored tissue paper?
He’d be pleased, I later decide, as we silently follow Hye Su around the pagoda in the inky darkness. Our lopsided lanterns no longer seem like childhood art projects. Instead, as they cast colorful soft blobs of light into the frosty night air, they evoke that same strong sense of hope, peace and joy I’d felt during the worship ceremony.
The rest of our stay is a blur. There’s a tea ceremony, during which Hye Su answers our questions on Buddhism. A 3:30 a.m. worship ceremony, where several monks summon all beings to the world of enlightenment by beating an intricate rhythm on some unique percussion instruments. A meditation exercise. And a lesson on bul-mu-do, the Buddhist martial art originally practiced by the monks so they could ward off Japanese pirates who threatened the country’s East Coast.
As we ready our bags for departure, some colleagues begin stuffing treats into their mouths, starving after 24 hours’ worth of sparse meals. Surprisingly, I’m not famished. Maybe because I’m filled with that mystical feeling of continuity with worlds past and present. Before I zip my bag shut, I impulsively tuck in my purple lotus lantern, a bit singed from last night’s walk. I plan to take Hye Su’s advice and light it when I get home, then walk around my backyard in silence — for with silence comes wisdom. And if nothing else, a fond memory of my temple stay.
If You Go:
Beomeosa is just outside Busan, South Korea. You can fly directly into Busan, or into Seoul and take a train to Busan.
While a templestay isn’t a strenuous activity, keep in mind it can be taxing. You’ll be sitting on the floor for extended periods, namely for meditation and dining, which many find difficult. Your meals will be quite sparse. And you won’t get much sleep due to the daily 3:30 a.m. worship service. So it’s best to arrive well-fed and well-rested.
Remember this is a real Buddhist temple, so you’ll need to follow all of the rules and be respectful of the monks and their religious practices.
For more information, see www.eng.templestay.com.