Sunday, May 27, 2012

A memorable meeting with a Buddhist monk

This semester in Hangzhou, I was surprised and pleased to discover the immense number of cultural excursions planned for us as part of the Middlebury program. From discussing the meaning of life with a senior-level Buddhist monk to exploring one of China’s most famous fan factories, these activities really helped me understand many aspects of Chinese culture.

A fan-painting artist at the handmade fan factory

 The very memorable trip to a Buddhist monastery took place a couple of weeks ago. A handful of my classmates and myself piled onto a bus along with Teacher Lian, who spent the majority of the bus ride explaining basic Buddhist principles to us ready listeners, as well as encouraging us all to come up with interesting questions to ask the monk.

 I’ve actually always found Buddhism fascinating, though I haven’t had much exposure to its teachings or beliefs beyond the most basic, surface-level understanding.  Next fall, however, I’m planning to take a Chinese Religions course at my university to further expose me to the religious aspects of the Chinese culture. This trip was a great introduction to the peaceful and selfless world of Buddhist teaching, and I feel like understanding these principles, even in the most basic sense, gave me a somewhat deeper understanding of Chinese culture. Even though Teacher Lian admitted that the percentage of modern Chinese who actively practice Buddhism today is very limited, it seems that the basic principles of Buddhism still guide many Chinese people’s lives from a societal perspective.

When we arrived at the monastery, we were given a few minutes to look around at the temples and skim the piles of free Buddhist books laid out for interested visitors. Teacher Lian, again, proved invaluable in reading and explaining some of the ambiguous, Classical Chinese passages in these books.  He made suggestions as to which ones we should pick up for further attempts at understanding Buddhism.

Buddhist practitioners burning incense in a "xiang lu," or incense burner

We finally met with the senior monk after about an hour of wandering around the monastery area.  Green tea was poured as we filed into the room and settled into large wooden chairs.  The monk spoke in a subdued, peaceful voice, and calmly made eye contact with each one of us as he introduced himself and proceeded to answer our questions. My classmates started off the discussion: “What made you decide to become a Buddhist monk?” “What do you think about Tibetan Buddhism?” and the like.

My question was simple but relevant: “We are all college students in our early twenties. What sort of advice do you have for us at this point in our lives?” I was curious to hear what he would have to say. “I’m not entirely familiar with your individual lives,” he admitted as a disclaimer preceding his answer. But the general gist of his response was quite uplifting and surprisingly similar to what one might expect in advice from a Western philosopher or Catholic priest: “Right now, the most important thing you can do in your lives is study, for that is the purpose of a college education: to know more about the world.” He also added something along the lines of: “Every day, you will make many decisions. Each and every one of these decisions, no matter how small, reveals something about you and what kind of person you are. So going forward, make sure that you pay attention to your decisions and make those decisions that will improve our world and help others.”

His advice was heartfelt and meaningful and really resounded with me; regardless of one’s personal background, religious beliefs, or country of origin, that advice could apply to anybody's life. And that is something that I will take away from this experience: at some level, every one of us, Chinese, American, or whatever nationality, is searching for the same basic things in life: meaning, acceptance, family, and a desire to make the world a slightly better place than it was before we came into it.

The walkway leading out from the monastery

The meeting was cut short by our antsy driver's desire to make it home before rush hour. However, as we were wrapping up the discussion, I heard an oddly familiar sound coming from the monk's general direction: the cheery beeps of a standard iPhone ringtone. It's a strange, globalized and product-oriented world we live in, when even ascetic Buddhist monks living in the small mountains of southwestern Hangzhou answer their iPhones without so much as a thought. What an anomaly, and what an epitome of China's cultural blend of old and new: a traditional Buddhist monk in a room full of Western college students, linked by language, a desire to learn, and the incongruous convenience that is the Apple iPhone.

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