Nanputuo Temple

Nanputuo temple, right outside the #1 Bus terminus and Xiamen University old gate, sprawls across the Five Old Man Mountains like a Chinese miniature landscape on steroids. The complex¡¯s original structures were built over 1,000 years ago, during the Tang Dynasty, and now include the Heavenly Emperor Palace, the Grand Majestic Treasure Palace, the Buddhist Scripture Pavilion, and the Great Benevolent Ticket Seller.

NanPutou ("Nan" means "south", and "Putuo" is one of China¡¯s four sacred mountains, up in Zhejiang) is home to a few hundred monks - and a few hundred statues as well, like the Reverend Three - Life - Cycle Budda, the Four Heavenly Kings, the Eighteen Arhats, and the Bodhisattva (Thousand Handed Guanyin).

I`d sure hate to buy gloves for her.

The first statue you find on entering Nanputuo is that of Maitreya, who in China is called Mi - Lo - FU, the pot - bellied "god of wealth." The Buddhist Sutras say Sakyamuni, the first Buddha, will rule for 10,000 years. When international morality reaches a high level (like the Spice Girls entering a nunnery), Buddhism will die out. Eight million years later, Maitreya will come to preach.

Let¡¯s hope his sermons are shorter than his prelude.

Maitreyas last incarnation, supposedly, was 1,000 years ago, as the Linen - Bag Monk of Zhejiang Province. He traveled nonstop, preaching to all and sundry, free from cares and smiling in all circumstances. He believed that he was Maitreya incarnate, and so did everyone else - at least after he died.

Behind Nan Putuo¡¯s Maitreya statue stands Wei Tuo, the deity responsible for safeguarding the tow pillars of most religions: doctrine and finance. And Wei Tuo¡¯s staff is the reason Nanputuo has attracted millions of pilgrims over the past 1,000 years.

Tradition has it that when Wei Tuo holds his staff horizontally in his arms, he¡¯s suggesting, "Try elsewhere." But at Nanputuo, Wei Tuo¡¯s staff is aimed at the ground, indication the temple is wealthy and offers both room and board. So pilgrims pack in by the hundreds of thousands. And happily for Wei Tuo, they leave their millions behind.

Nanputuo has more pilgrims than Wei Tuo can shake a staff at, busily sacrificing paper houses, paper furniture, paper cars, even paper microwaves, all to be used by ancestors in the afterlife. They also burn stacks of 'hell money.' With each banknote worth a 100 Million Dollars or so, one stack might easily represent Bill Gate¡¯s fortune, yet they are printed on the cheapest paper and sold for a pittance by hawkers outside the temple. The reasoning is that in the underworld, demons and deities can¡¯t tell real money from counterfeit.

It probably makes for some hellish inflation down there.

Demons, deities and dead ancestors get the short end of Wei Tuo¡¯s stick not just with money but with edibles as well. Many a peasant will offer rice or choice fruits in a 15" basket that has a 12" false bottom, because the folks down below don¡¯t know the difference.

So day and night, clouds of smoke rise from Nan Putuo¡¯s eternal offerings. But I suspect the smoke itself is more symbolic than the offerings, given that China has 300 million smokers. If they use paper houses and microwaves in the next life, why not smoke too?

Though given that Buddhism has 84,136 hells, I¡¯m not sure of they are smoking or being smoked. Evidently the monks aren¡¯t sure either.

Nanputuo¡¯s South Fujian Buddhist Institute was established in 1925, and now has over 100 undergraduate students who burn their Buddhist candles at both ends poring over the Scripture Hall¡¯s tens of thousands of Buddhist scriptures. I asked one of these budding Buddhist scholars, "Who goes to Buddhism¡¯s 84,136 hells?"

He said, "Anyone who does anything wrong." He paused, thought about it, and added with a wry smile, "I guess everyone."

Encouraging outlook. "Then who goes to heaven?" I asked.

He thought some more, then said, "Just a minute." He pushed his Gandhi spectacles back up on his nose, and flipped through pages of a massive, musty volume for a good ten minutes, the said, "No one has ever asked me that. I¡¯ll have to get back to you."

Nanputuo¡¯s monks may not be much on heaven, but they certainly offer some heavenly cuisine! A set fee in their famous vegetarian restaurant will land you tasty dishes of vegetarian "meats," fungi, and vegetables - culinary creations with names like "Half Moon Sinking Down the River," "Treasure Hidden in Scented Clay," "Golden Lotus in the South Sea," or "Two Mushrooms Competing for Beauty."

If you decipher that menu, let me in on it.

On your way out of Nan Putuo Temple, you can stop off at the gift shop and pick up some chant cassettes, glow - in - the - dark plastic Buddhas, or carved wooden rosaries. Unlike American religious merchandising, there isn¡¯t any "suggested love offering," or tax deductible receipt. But given the state of economic affairs down below, you can just add a few zeros to your receipt and make an outlandish deduction after you die. They¡¯ll never know the difference.

The real excitement at Nan Putuo is not inside the monastery but outside its massive gates, where street vendors cry, "Candied crab apples on a stick!" and "Fresh sliced pineapple!" and "Tea eggs 3 mao (cents) each or 2.50 a jin" (a jin is about 1.1pounds). Shoe repairpersons from fat off Sichuan resurrect weary pilgrims; weary soles with glue and thread, and Tong An peasants puff rice with a coal-fired cast iron contraption that goes off like a cannon every few minutes. The liveliest trade, of course, is in the Buddhist paraphernalia incense sticks, candles, and "Hell Band Notes."

There¡¯s also another trade that strikes me as a bit fishy

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