雍和宫 - The Lama Temple

Last week, I was taking the subway home from the Beijing version of Best Buy when my line stopped at the Lama Temple (雍和宫). As one of the largest and most important lamaseries in the world, this temple had always been on my to-do list here in Beijing, especially after taking multiple Chinese history courses throughout my time at Yale. But somehow, in the midst of studying and running around to China’s many other tourist spots, I had yet to make it there. Thankfully, I had a free afternoon and my camera on me, so I spent the next two hours wandering around the various halls and courtyards that comprise this Buddhist temple, (photos below).

I was fascinated by the history of the temple; so often, I am overwhelmed when I read about a historical site in Beijing, and then am able to go wander around that very same place. Perhaps this is why I get chills when I step onto Tiananmen Square each time. So much of China is based in tradition that walking down the street to run an errand can be just as much a cultural experience than it is a chore. For example, people, especially the elderly, practice Tai Chi each morning in the parks, while others paint calligraphy on the sidewalk. The Mid Autumn Festival is also about to take place on September 22nd, and grocery stores, restaurants, and billboards around the city are all focused on promoting of the famous “Moon Cakes” and honoring the holiday, which is rooted in celebrating the Goddess of the Moon and the end of the harvest season.

While I know the Lama Temple has undergone several renovations, its inherent function as a lamasery is still the same. And as I wandered around the halls filled with Buddhas of all sizes, (there is even one over 85 feet), this landmark as actually serving as a place of worship became very evident. The monks overseeing each room recited scriptures either from memory or text, providing a consistent, monotone humming as the lyrical background to my visit. I was also in the minority of people not engaging in active worship. Around me, visitors offered incense to the Buddhas and completed intricate prayer rituals. Many went through the prayers in sets of three’s. Others kept it simple with a single up and down motion. Very few people spoke outloud. The temple took on a very reverent feeling, and made me think a lot about ritual, worship, and religion.

I considered myself non-religious, somewhere between Atheism and Agnosticism, throughout high school and college, perhaps more out of laziness than anything. As a child, I only attended “Sunday School” until the age of eight when “Cantonese School” then took over the weekend morning routine. But being at the Lama Temple made me realize just how many people, even in an atheist country such as China, turn to some form of ritual to enhance their daily lives. In the US, we rarely see forms of worship aside from organized religion, except maybe in our weekly yoga class. In China, it’s everywhere. It’s in my readings for class, it’s in the cultural values based in Confucianism, and it’s on the sign hanging on my neighbors’ doors. That being said, this temple is one of very few surviving Tibetan lamaseries in a country that has had a history of religious intolerance. The temple’s use as a genuine place of worship versus a government-sponsored site used to demonstrate China as a country that respects the religious freedom of minorities could be debated. Either way, I thought a lot that day about whether there is a way for anybody, no matter one’s background, to incorporate some aspect of the divine, whether it is simple ancestor worship or full-blown commitment to organized religion, into one’s life in a valuable way. Or do we all already worship something, whether it be divine or not? If it's not divine, is that the same thing as worship?

For those interested in the history of the temple, here is a short summary: The temple was originally the residential palace of Count Yin Zhen, (later known as Yongzheng), who, when he became emperor in 1723, moved to the Forbidden City. Eventually, his second palace was converted into a lamasery that accumulated importance in latter years and became home to legions of monks from Mongolia and Tibet. The temple was closed for a period of time after China’s Civil War in 1949, but managed to escape the destruction of the Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution thanks to Zhou Enlai, who was pioneering an effort to preserve what he could of China’s heritage. It reopened to the public in 1981, and today serves as an active Tibetan Buddhist center.