Lessons From Taiwan

Modernity and Lessons from Ancient Cultures

I remember Joe said the Taiwnese had a bit of a love of the cultish aesthetic, wearing all the same colored vests; a fairly horrible color of yellow. I was reminded a bit of the fundamentalists churches I went to as a kid, dragged by the mother of one of my friends. Even the Catholic churches would sometimes have the same feel. Lots of older people, gathered around, with a lot of investment in bringing you into their club. They smiled a bit too much, they were a bit overly friendly, but they didn't seem to have much to offer beyond their hope that you would be joining them. It was with this mind that Joe, Fiona, and little baby William went to the Buddha's Light International Temple. What I saw that day did not make me want to be more like the members of the temple in the ways that were off-putting, but did really show me something that sometimes is forgotten as we adopt a more rational and scientific approach to Buddhism.

Then the lady, a well-dressed nun, arrived and took the podium. Of course, due to my laziness and involvement in other things, my Chinese is much worse than the average two-year old here; so I didn't understand much. But the lady, the nun, was dignified, peaceful; and it was clear that the content of her talk was not, in any way, fundamentalist. As Joe translated, she spoke of what people could do to help the environment, the benefits of vegetarianism, and told some simple stories of how people helping each other can impact the world. Nothing was preachy, she never told people they were bad because they ate meat or used an air-conditioner; she merely suggested that there were ways that they could reduce these things and that that would have positive impact. The cheesy, badly acted video, that I saw out of the corner of my eye when we arrived there, was actually quite good. Certainly it was cheesy and badly acted, but Turning Points, as it was called, was really about how small, seemingly insignificant actions of kindness had had a profound impact on one person's life, and the lengths that he went to thank them. Actually, the message was quite meaningful.

I remember, most particularly, something that the nun said in her talk, she told a story of a child who came home to tell her mother she had made number two in a competition, and the mother responded, “What about number one?” The child worked very hard, and the won the next competition. She told her mother of her success, and the mother responded, “What about your good works?”

Joe's response was, “What a tiger mother!” At the time, I agreed, it sounded to me like the over-pressuring mothers I deal with quite often. Actually, though, as I reflect, she succinctly pointed out the thing that is most problematic about Taiwanese society; it's not that they work hard or study hard, that's actually really good. What it is, is that they miss the point; working hard is good, so long as the motivation is to help others. When it is only for one's own gain, it merely will serve that limited purpose; when hard work is harnessed correctly, toward the benefit of others, then it is really powerful. I thought this was a very skillful way to point this out to the audience in a way they could understand, and for me, it expressed the meaning of how devoted we must be in serving those around us.

It was one thing, though, that left the most profound impact upon me. Upon the words of another very excellent nun, Yifa, the woman who had taken us to the talk and around that day was quite convinced I was to become a monk. In truth, my response was nothing but that it is a possibility; but due to my lack of Chinese, I have no idea what was translated. Still, for whatever reason, she was quite convinced it was the case.

At the time we were leaving, she had already shown us really great kindness, feeding us many times, and really trying to provide for our every need. She gave me, hidden amongst some other posters, another gift. A small bowl with a meditating monk, with two Chinese characters, which I thinks translates to,“the joy of meditation.” She said, before I left, that she was worried that maybe I would find a woman and give up my plan of being a monk. I laughed and said “Ohh no! Well, she better be really great. Only a really beautiful and great one!” I think she was somewhat satisfied that this would not be the case, and then she said, “I hope you will not forget me when you go off to India to become a monk.” I said, of course, “Ohh no! Of course not!” Again, she seemed satisfied, and we left.

I was struck that this was quite funny. To be honest, I have spent maybe two days with her, and the only conversations we have had were briefly translated to Chinese. I had thought that the kindness she had shown was due to our connection with others, namely Hun and Yifa, due to their connection with Dharma, and perhaps, some possibility of business. I think though, there was something else in this case, that was a factor: her great faith in Dharma. For her, merely the possibility that I would become a monk created a great possibility of merit and benefit, for herself and others. I felt very humble and a bit embarrassed when I thought of this. Although I am sincere, I am not a monk, nor have I fully made the decision to wear robes yet. I really thought of all those who had helped me, through this life and before; and hoped, like the man in the video, to really repay their kindness. I vowed to do my best to repay this.

In many ways, I think, this speaks to the level of faith of the Taiwanese and Asian Buddhists, in general. For them, the three jewels (the Buddha, the teachings and the community) are a very real entity which provides very real blessings. It is easy for us, as westerners with an academic and scientific bent, to sort of write this off; but I think that this is, perhaps, a really big mistake. It is the kindness and the sense of an ethical life that makes these sort of people really pleasant to be around. Of course, much like Joe and I's experience when we entered the temple, the religiousness of it can be a bit off-putting and perhaps it has some bad effects; but when we really look at the content of the faith, when properly directed, I think this faith is really powerful. This kind of faith provides a sense of humility and responsibility toward others; a sense of connection to our community that is really lacking in the west and in American Buddhism.

Of paramount importance in all the Asian Buddhism I have encountered is faith and connection to your community. This provides a sort of lubricant toward practice; it grounds one in compassion and motivates one to continue in their practice. Much like the story of the girl who does not reach her mother's goals, we are constantly pushed to be better and better so that we can really help others, especially those who've helped us. Of course, we need not become Buddhist or rigid, merely understand deeply and humbly our connection with others. When we really see ourselves in this way, we see ourselves as a small pieces in a a very large and beautiful puzzle. A certain sense of self-grasping dissolves, we can think more clearly, and we fit better in the puzzle that surrounds us.