Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week and next.

Annual Kimchi Festival in South Korea Donates to Elders in Need

After a two-year hiatus caused by the pandemic, the Seoul Kimchi Festival took place this week at Jogyesa, the chief temple of the Jogye order of Korean Buddhism. Over 150 volunteers joined monks from the temple in ​​kimjang, the act of coming together to make and share kimchi, turning eight thousand kilos, or 17,638 pounds, of cabbage into the national dish. Half the kimchi went to low-income families and elders affected by the pandemic, and half went to the monks at Jogyesa and other Buddhist organizations. Watch a video of the kimchi-making here. 

Phra Maha Praiwan Worawano, the Controversial Thai Monk Known for Using Humor and LGBTQ Terms, Leaves the Monkhood

The Thai Inquirer reported that followers took to social media this week to lament the disrobing of Phra Maha Praiwan Worawano, the Thai monk who amassed thousands of views on his casual and humor-imbued livestream teachings. In September, Worawano and his co-host, Phra Maha Sompong Talaputto, testified before a parliamentary committee on religion, art, and culture and agreed to use less humor in their live Facebook show. Since then, Worawano announced on Facebook that he would leave the monkhood “in recognition of his guilt in bringing trouble to and for the failure to save Phra Ratchapanya Suthee,” his teacher who was recently passed over for the position of abbot at his temple, Thai BPS World reports. 

Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche’s Sangha to Develop Europe’s First Buddhist University

The Gomde Germany-Austria dharma center, founded by the Tibetan Buddhist teacher Chökyi Nyima Rinpoche, announced plans this week to establish a private university for Buddhist studies. Guided by Rinpoche’s vision, the center aims to build a “Wisdom Temple” on its grounds in Scharnstein, Austria, to house the university, which would be the first Buddhist university in Europe. In the email announcement, the team at Gomde stated that “both authentic study and practice will be taught and applied [at the university], so that—according to Rinpoche—the dharma can be preserved and passed on for countless generations.” 

Shambhala Mountain Center Announces Independent Governance

Colorado’s Shambhala Mountain Center (SMC)—established in 1971 by Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche—has announced its independence from the Sakyong Potrang, the nonprofit entity that holds the assets of the lineage of Sakyong, the spiritual leader of Shambhala International. The Sakyong Potrang has held a seat, and veto power, on SMC’s governing board for many years. “Both the Potrang and SMC Boards recognized this arrangement to be no longer necessary,” said Michael Gayner, executive director of the Boulder center, “and after much discussion, the Sakyong Potrang graciously agreed to relinquish the veto powers and its seat on the SMC Governing Council.” Read more about the decision here in an email from SMC.

Tibetan Writer and Activist Tenzin Tsundue Completes 103-Day Walking Campaign to Raise Awareness for Tibetans

Tibetan writer and activist Tenzin Tsundue, who has been on a 103-day walking campaign to raise awareness for Tibetans, arrived at his final destination of Itanagar, Arunachal Pradesh on Monday. Tsundue announced the campaign “Walking the Himalayas” on his Instagram account back in August, stating that he aimed to travel from Ladakh to Arunachal Pradesh to rekindle the cultural and political relationship between Indian Himalayan states and Tibet. Traveling with a projector and a copy of the documentary Escape of the Dalai Lama from Tibet, Tsundue also highlighted the plight of Tibetans under increasing military pressure from China. 

 

 

 

 

 

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Meditation Teacher José Reissig Passes Away

Meditation teacher José Reissig passed away on November 9 at the Lutheran Care Center in Poughkeepsie, New York. He was 95. Read a 1996 Tricycle article by Reissig here and read a full obituary here. 

Coming Up

December 4: Valerie Brown—a dharma teacher of Afro-Cuban descent in the Plum Village tradition founded by Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh—leads this month’s Dharma Talk series with Tricycle. In “How to Fight Injustice Without Hating,” Brown offers practices to help ground ourselves amid the negativity and injustice that we face.The first of four videos goes up here on Saturday.

December 4: Renowned Korean Buddhist monk, author, activist, and Zen master Pomnyun Sunim hosts a free livestream dharma talk as part of his 2021 Live Dharma Talk Series. 

December 7: The Mind & Life Institute hosts a conversation titled “Embracing Hope, Courage, and Compassion in Times of Crisis,” featuring His Holiness the Dalai Lama. (Read a just-published interview with the Mind & Life Institute and the Dalai Lama’s longtime English translator on Tricycle.) 

Now through December 8: Dharma centers nationwide are holding online retreats in the leadup to Bodhi Day (known as Rohatsu orJodo-e in Japan), the anniversary of the Buddha’s Enlightenment, which falls on December 8.

December 10: “Living The Eightfold Path: A Live Virtual Workshop with Andrew Olendzki,” begins. The online workshop will include a dharma talk, a guided reflection on one step of the eightfold path, and an audience Q&A session. Participants will receive a special discount on Dhamma Wheel, Olendzki’s year-long daily contemplative study email program.

The post Seoul Kimchi Festival Returns and Donates to Elders in Need appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Nothing is permanent, so everything is precious. Here’s a selection of some happenings—fleeting or otherwise—in the Buddhist world this week. 

Buddhist and Catholic Leaders in Japan Pray Together 

On April 24, Buddhist, Shinto, and Catholic leaders prayed together for the end of the coronavirus pandemic in front of Todaiji Temple in Nara, Japan, SoraNews24 reported. During the broadcasted event, they sat two meters apart and encouraged their communities to pray together with them at noon every day while physically distancing. “Even though we must refrain from our usual activities for the sake of others, I would still like to pray together,” said Fumon Sagawa, the chief priest of temple affairs at Todaji Temple. 

新型コロナウイルス感染症の早期終息と罹患された方々の早期快復、及びお亡くなりになった方々の追福菩提のため、宗教・宗派を超えて我々は共に祈ります。5月から高野山真言宗の皆さんもご一緒いただけることになりました。さあ、皆さんもご一緒に。 #奈良 #東大寺 #疫病退散 #共に祈ろう #利他 pic.twitter.com/LQPAumJpaE

— 森本 公穣 @東大寺 (@kojomrmt) April 24, 2020

Thai Buddhist Temples Running Out of Food

Some Buddhist temples in southern Thailand are facing a shortage of donations and food alms as a result of the coronavirus pandemic, Khaosod English reported. Wiwat Wankumpha, the director of Prachuap Khiri Khan province’s Buddhist office, said that temples in the area have requested 80,000 to 100,000 baht (about $3,000 USD) from the government. The Buddhist office has offered the temples rice and dried food, and encouraged them to rely on vegetable gardening, reduce the number of dependent lay people, and temporarily close temples to save electricity costs.

Sutras for Well-being 

The 84,000 Translation Project, a global nonprofit with a goal to translate all of the Buddhist sutras into modern languages, has launched a new project to fast-track the translation of short sutras traditionally recited for resilience and well-being in hopes that the texts will help people cope amid the uncertainty of COVID-19. “As people around the world entered into successive waves of Coronavirus-induced…suffering, we had many of our friends and followers asking us for inspiring content to help get us through this challenging time of distancing, quarantines, and lockdowns,” a statement on 84,000’s website reads. The first sutra in the series, the mahasutra “On Entering the City of Vaisali,” describes a time when an epidemic took place in the Indian city of Vaisali—and the measures the Buddha used to dispel it.  

Taking Precautions, South Koreans Attend Religious Events

People recently began attending religious services at churches and temples again in South Korea, after the government eased rules on social distancing, the Yonhap News Agency reported on April 26. At the main temple of the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism in the capital of Seoul, followers had their temperature checked before they could enter the main building. On the same day, about 1,200 people participated in a service at the Yoido Full Gospel Church in Seoul, about a tenth the full capacity of the church. Attendees had to wear masks and maintain distance from others. In general, religious groups in South Korea have scaled down public services and moved programming online to avoid large-scale gatherings that could fuel the coronavirus outbreak. The South Korean government has indicated that it will keep social distancing measures in place until early May but decided to ease restrictions for religious gatherings amid signs that the spread of the virus has slowed. In related news, the Korea Herald reported that the Cultural Corps of Korean Buddhism announced Monday that it has resumed some of its Templestay programs, albeit with restrictions. All of its programs were suspended earlier this year due to the COVID-19 outbreak. 

Other headlines: 

• The International Network of Engaged Buddhists created a COVID-19 fund to help provide food, medical supplies, and other resources to marginalized communities in India, Nepal, Bangladesh, and Myanmar; and the Buddhist charity Buddhist Global Relief celebrated Vesak, the Buddha’s birthday, by launching a donation campaign.  
• On his 31st birthday on April 25, Tibetans called for the Panchen Lama’s release. The Panchen Lama is considered an important figure in the Gelug school of Tibetan Buddhism, second only to the Dalai Lama. In May 1995,  three days after His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama identified Gedhun Choekyi Nyima as the 11th Panchen Lama, Chinese authorities arrested the then-six-year-old boy. He has not been seen in public since.
• A suspect broke into Thien Hau Temple in Austin, Texas, smashing buddha statues and furniture, earlier this week. Police are investigating the acts of destruction as “criminal mischief.” This the third instance of vandalism at a Buddhist temple in North America that Buddha Buzz has reported on this year. Two other incidents took place in Montreal, Canada, and in Fort Smith, Arkansas. Buddhistdoor recently reported that as the coronavirus pandemic spreads in North America, so have racist attacks against Asians, Asian Americans, and their places of worship. 
• Amid social distance orders, Muslims in Myanmar observe Ramadan at home—and collaborate with the Buddhist community to distribute aid. 
• Read about the “political marriage” between Komeito, a political party in Japan with roots in Soka Gakkai Nichiren Buddhism, and the ruling LDP, and what it may mean as Japan faces COVID-19. 

The post Buddha Buzz Weekly: Praying Together, Apart appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

“Whenever I look at my son and think about all the difficulty he will go through in the future, all I can think about is jumping out of my apartment window together with my baby.’”

Haemin Sunim, Korea’s famous “Twitter monk” and the founder of the School of Broken Hearts in Seoul, is recounting the words of a woman who had come to one of the school’s support groups for parents with disabled children. In Korea, it’s not just the logistical and financial difficulties involved in raising a child with disabilities that these parents are contending with. It’s also the reality that Korean society considers it shameful to have given birth to one. But speaking with the other mothers at the support group gave the woman “a different perspective and emotional strength to carry on,” Haemin Sunim said.“I felt really good after that session.”

Related: Dispatch from South Korea

If this sounds like an unusual scene for a Buddhist center, that’s because it is. Although the School of Broken Hearts, founded in 2015, offers traditional meditation instruction and Buddhist liturgical practices such as reciting and visualizing the Lotus Sutra, the majority of the school’s programming is aimed at healing life’s hurts: there are groups for online bullying, bereavement, anger management, dating violence, and more. The school also provides personal counseling and has eight therapists on staff from other religious traditions, including Protestantism and Catholicism.

“I wanted to transcend religion,” said Haemin Sunim about the school. “You don’t need to have any kind of religious affiliations. If you are going through a difficult time, you can come and learn.”

With some five thousand visitors annually, the School of Broken Hearts has become so popular that a second center in Pusan, Korea’s second-largest city, opened in October 2018.

Dubbed the “Twitter monk” by the media—he has over a million followers—Haemin Sunim came up with the idea of the school precisely because of the social media platform.

While on a sabbatical in 2010 from Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts, where he taught courses on Buddhism, Haemin Sunim started his Twitter account. It was a flop, he said, until he realized that unlike the comings and goings of President Obama, whom he looked to for social media inspiration at the time, what he himself ate for lunch and his other daily activities were “terribly uninteresting.” So he started posting reflections garnered from his meditation practice instead. Soon he had ten thousand followers. An offline gathering came next, where the monk was able to meet his Twitter fans in real life and give them a space to talk openly about the problems they were facing. Over the course of a year, the gatherings grew from 60 attendees to over 400. Haemin Sunim was inspired.

Haemin Sunim grew up in a non-Buddhist family in Korea and came to the US in 1991 to study film at UC Berkeley. Tired of the party culture and propelled by life’s ultimate questions, he moved from his college dorm into the nearby Sixth Patriarch Zen Center, where the abbot encouraged him to become a monk. Abandoning film, he began the ordination process while attaining his master’s at Harvard Divinity School, and trained at Haein Monastery in Korea. (Haein is associated with the Jogye Order, Korea’s largest Buddhist school.) When he finished, he returned to the US, received his doctorate from Princeton, and began teaching at Hampshire College before he realized that he “wasn’t a very good scholar.”

“It became tedious and boring,” he said. Instead of reading an ancient text and trying “to figure out what kind of political situation influenced this kind of idea, the rise of that idea,” he was interested in meditation and practice. At the same time, he became “disheartened” to see Buddhism and other religious traditions struggle to meet people where they were.

“For example, you’ve just had a divorce,” he said. “And then you go to a Buddhist master and he says, ‘Oh, just pray more to Guanyin [deity of compassion] or do more prostrations, and you’ll be fine.’” Haemin Sunim wanted to provide a space where people could go for practical help.

Despite his innovative approaches, Haemin Sunim feels that his work is squarely in line with the Buddhism he has been taught, which emphasizes healing; the main buddha of his current teacher, Hwikwang Sunim at the Bulkwang Zen Center in Tappan, New York, is the Medicine Buddha. “What I’m doing is just natural activity, like an expansion of the prayer I’ve been doing [to Medicine Buddha],” Haemin Sunim said. He sees the School of Broken Hearts as having three aims: healing, emotional and spiritual growth, and awakening.

Along the way, he has written two books. The Things You Can See Only When You Slow Down, a bestseller in Korea with over three million copies sold, was published in English by Penguin Random House in 2017. His second, Love for Imperfect Things, came out in December 2018 and soon hit the Sunday Times bestseller list (alongside Michelle Obama’s Becoming).

While his message is clearly resonating, Haemin Sunim says that he’s gotten heat from some activists who think he should be more politically oriented. Though his main focus is psychological, he doesn’t ignore external realities. He mentions capitalism, for instance, as a primary reason that people in both the East and the West feel “constantly under pressure to perform, to be perfect.” And the school’s groups do have discussions concerning practical support, like how to apply for government aid or take advantage of resources for job seekers. It’s one of the benefits of bringing together people who have gone through similar difficulties.

Next on his mind is teaching more frequently in the US and abroad, where he’s sure to receive more questions about how to ride the ups and downs of daily life.

That said, Haemin Sunim doesn’t pretend to have all the answers. Does he ever not know what to say when someone asks his advice? “Oh, yeah. Oftentimes after giving my answer I feel that it was a terrible answer!” he said.

“But I have to be very careful,” he added. “It’s not just about giving them the right answers. It’s about the attitude, how I approach the problems. They want to be heard.”

The post How Korea’s “Twitter Monk” Mends Broken Hearts appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Estimated number of temples: 9,000

Portion of  the population that identifies as Buddhist: 21%

The number of Buddhist media outlets: At least four

• Buddhist Broadcasting System
• Buddhist Cable TV Network
• Buddhist Television Network
• Hyundae Bulgyo Buddhist Newspaper

The year Buddhism was first introduced to Korea by a monk traveling from China: 372 CE

The country’s highest pagoda (Palsangjeon, at Beopjusa Temple): 74.5 feet

The approximate number of wood blocks used in the 13th century to carve the Tripitaka Koreana, the Korean (Mahayana) canon: 80,000

The post Buddhism by the Numbers: South Korea appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

The Nine Cloud Dream (Kuunmong) by Kim Man-jung is a beguiling, multilayered vision where we follow characters from life to life through enchanted landscapes, love affairs, poetry and music competitions, politics, strategy, practical jokes, social advancement, and spiritual searching. Heinz Insu Fenkl has given us something very special in this vibrant and entrancing new translation by providing a deeply informative introduction for one of Korea’s earliest classics.

Ordinarily, much of our experience in life involves constraint. We are ever aware of what is required of us: the limitations, the dos and don’ts, the red and green lights, death and taxes, rent and time. But then we listen to music, watch movies, play online games, read and dream; we enter other worlds. Perhaps these are mere distractions, but perhaps something else can happen. Such moments may open gateways.

The Nine Cloud Dream is a novel alive to such possibilities. It was written in Korea in about 1689. The Joseon dynasty had ruled for 300 years and would continue for another 200 years. Nonetheless, as the author of this miraculous book found, even within a culture and government of such stability, individual life was not so stable. A king’s favor was fickle. The life of a high-ranking courtier was subject to gossip, faction, and precipitous falls.

Kim Man-jung was born in 1637 to a ruling-class family. He ascended quickly through the government examinations and soon established himself at King Sukjong’s court. He attracted the king’s favor with his quick intelligence, cultivation, and ingenuity. Nonetheless, he was exiled several times for finding himself on the wrong side of such seemingly small conflicts as the proper period of mourning for a deceased queen. Finally, in 1689, he was banished to Namhae, a bleak island far from the capital. Under those constricted circumstances, his imagination flourished. There he wrote this novel and, soon after, died. Folklore has it that he wrote the book to entertain his mother, who was distraught that her son was so far away. No one knows whether she enjoyed The Nine Cloud Dream, but it has delighted readers ever since.

To read is to find oneself, at least partially, disembodied and reborn, to live not exactly in this world but in a different realm. In this altered dimension, the senses still function and the mind is engaged. But here we can move from place to place, time to time, being to being. In the domain of reading, we can explore what is unknown, what is frightening, what is desirable. We can identify with the longings we hold most enduring. Yet we, the readers, do not experience much that is inescapable. In books we ourselves cannot die. The Nine Cloud Dream plays on all of this.

To read is to find oneself partially reborn, to live not exactly in this world but in a different realm.

The outlook and aspirations prevalent in Korea in Kim Man-jung’s time were an amalgam of three traditions. The social outlook was Confucian and emphasized the need for strict hierarchical relations between heaven and monarch, monarch and subject, husband and wife, parent and child, elder and younger. The view of the cosmos was derived from Taoism, which focuses on finding the human place in the wordless unfolding of nature. Gods and goddesses, shamanesses, immortals, spirits of mountains and streams are the living embodiments of this way. Thoughts and practices relating to the spiritual world were articulated in the Buddhist teachings, most especially those concerned with compassion and freedom from the endless transitory illusions brought about by cause and effect (karma) and conflicting emotions.

In Korea at that time, and in The Nine Cloud Dream, the Hwaeom (Huayan) school, whose doctrines emerged from the Avatamsaka Sutra, was particularly influential. Here, it is said that the practitioner-bodhisattva “passes through as many eons as dust motes in ineffable Buddha-lands, reaching all places throughout the ten directions without going anywhere. Nonetheless, he travels to every land . . . to inquire about the Path without pausing, giving up, resting, or growing weary.” This is a vast view of worlds simultaneously unfolding within worlds and of beings changing and moving freely between them.

The novel begins in Tang dynasty China, as a monk finds himself distracted from his vows by eight transcendent beauties who visit the monastery. His discipline has failed, and his teacher, bitter and disappointed, expels him. Lost in the mountains, he dies and is brought before the King of Death, as are the fairy-women who entranced him. All nine are hurled and dispersed into the world of the living. The monk is reborn into the family of a poor scholar who soon dies. The former monk is now Shao-yu, a young man of great intelligence, good looks, and charm. He moves upward in the world, absorbing wisdom he receives from various immortals and assisted by eight women who fall in love with him.

His extraordinary gifts for poetry, music, and strategy enable Shao-yu to charm and master the world. These arts serve as portals to unsuspected dimensions, and with each partner he seduces, he inhabits a different and dreamlike bliss. Thus, many times over, he experiences life as “a dream, and yet not a dream; real and yet not reality.” He ascends to the highest level of society, finally becoming the emperor’s brother-in-law. His mother joins him in the capital, where he lives happily with all eight wives together with con-sorts. The family’s reputation is now secure: Shao-yu inhabits a world of complete domestic and social harmony. And perhaps if it were the only world, it would remain in harmony. But it is not.

The life of the monk resumes as he suddenly wakes. “You went seeking your desires, and now you have returned, for they have faded,” says the monk’s teacher. The monk resumes his practices. The teacher dies. The monk becomes his successor. We have reached the book’s conclusion and return to our own lives. In the instant when Kim’s story of marvels has ended, our engagement in our usual life resumes. And perhaps, if only in that unsettled moment of transition, we sense we are, as it says in the Avatamsaka Sutra, “devoid of substance, unmoving” but encompassing all.

The post Going Everywhere While Staying Put appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

As Tricycle’s executive editor, I was recently invited to Korea by the Won Buddhist order to  attend the inauguration of their new head dharma master, Master Jeonsan. Unlike most Buddhist organizations, Won Buddhists elect their leaders, who serve for up to two six-year terms. So the fourth and fifth dharma masters were there to support Master Jeonsan as he took up the title. (Look out for our upcoming interview with him.)

Korea is both traditional and progressive, and the Buddhists I met there were no exception to this sometimes striking mix. Son (Zen) Buddhism came to the country in the 7th century from China and is by far the most widely practiced form of Buddhism in Korea. But now there is also Won Buddhism, which presents itself as a “modernized” form of the religion and is only 100 years old. While the two are doctrinally very different, the practitioners I encountered from both schools held a commitment to engaging with the world, a commitment that most certainly comes from the same core values and generosity of heart.  

Among the Buddhists I met  was Haemin Sunim, the famous Zen “Twitter monk”—he has over a million followers and a bestselling book (his second comes out in December)—who three years ago founded a very unusual center in Seoul. He calls it the School for Broken Hearts. You might mistake it for a YMCA if not for the stone carving of the Medicine Buddha that sits on one wall. At the school, Haemin Sunim teaches meditation and conducts traditional Buddhist ceremonies, but the bulk of his time is devoted to programs set up to relieve suffering at a very practical level: there are cancer support groups, art therapy classes, and even matchmaking meetups. (We’ll have more on Haenim Sunim’s efforts in the coming weeks.)

More traditional but no less inspiring was Jeong Wok Lee, a former bank president. After retirement, he spent his entire life’s savings building the Wongak (Enlightened to the Truth) Meditation Center in Jeonju, a city in southwestern Korea, where he now lives as a lay teacher. He returns to his apartment once weekly to see his wife, who I was told supports his passion for religious life.

And there were all the many endeavors of the Won Buddhists, who emphasize that practice and service are one. And they walk the talk: among their many national and international initiatives, they run a hospital, a hospice care center, an acupuncture school, and a university in Iksan, all of which are open to the public. Their founding master, Sotaesan (1891–1943), is remembered for being impressively productive and practically minded. As the story goes, the first thing he did after attaining enlightenment was create a tideland reclamation project.

In Won Buddhism, mornings and evenings are for training the mind, and the day is for beneficial action, driven by the desire to help sentient beings. It’s a timely and perhaps useful teaching for Americans weathering the current political climate. To carry out convictions with compassion is no easy feat—but there are at least a few Buddhists in Korea living by example.

The post Dispatch from South Korea appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Renowned Buddhist studies professor Donald S. Lopez Jr. cites Italo Calvino’s novel Invisible Cities as one inspiration for the book Hyecho’s Journey: The World of Buddhism. However, unlike Calvino’s masterpiece, which imagines Marco Polo describing fictitious cities to Kublai Khan, Hyecho’s Journey shows us how real cities might have appeared to an 18-year-old Korean monk on pilgrimage to the major Buddhist sites of the 8th century. The book draws on traditional Buddhist imagination, as expressed in depictions of the Buddha’s life and world in narrative and art.

Hyecho’s Journey, which stands alone as a gorgeously produced scholarly excursion through Buddhist story and image-craft, is also an artifact in a multimedia project that features an extensive exhibition at the Freer|Sackler Galleries in Washington, DC, and includes an iPhone app developed by students. The book was created by the Humanites Collaboratory, a team of scholars led by Lopez at the University of Michigan. (Their work was funded by the Provost of the University of Michigan, who has encouraged teamwork in the humanities along a model frequently used in the sciences.) The Hyecho’s Journey team was made up of professors and scholars in the fields of art history (Kevin Carr, Rebecca Bloom, Chun Wa Chan); South Asian archaeology (Carla Sinopoli); and Korean Buddhism (Ha Nul Jun), and from the university’s Asia Library (Keiko Yokota-Carter). Lopez called their project “an exercise in collective imagination.”

Hyecho’s Journey follows the young monk on his journey from Korea by sea to China and India, and then to Central Asia, before returning overland to China. Pilgrimages to the land of the Buddha’s birth were common among Buddhists then as now, though travel in the 8th century was far more treacherous than it is today. Remarkably, Hyecho completed his journey in only three years, covering more ground in less time than any other early Asian pilgrim who left a record. Unlike the diaries and records of the famous monk-pilgrims Xuanzang (c. 602–664 CE) and Yijing (635–713 CE), who left a legacy of knowledge about their visits and hundreds of translated Buddhist texts, Hyecho’s travel notes and poems, written in poor Chinese, were found in 1908 in Dunhuang in the form of fragments. Hyecho’s writings offer few details about his experience, and leave more questions than answers. As Lopez told Tricycle, it’s that very lack of detail that allows Hyecho to act as an “avatar” that readers can inhabit, imagining, with the book’s help, what a Buddhist pilgrimage might have been like over a thousand years ago.

Each self-contained chapter begins with a story drawn from the vast store of Buddhist lore about one of the places Hyecho is known to have visited. A brief scholarly commentary follows, then two works of art are described and reproduced, each connected tangibly or conceptually to the journey site. One chapter, for instance, begins in Bodhgaya, where the Buddha is said to have attained enlightenment. Hyecho’s journal entry is described, including a brief poem written by the pilgrim. Then the traditional story of the Buddha’s enlightenment follows. The commentary looks at depictions of the Buddha over time, from the early absence of images to the emergence of venerated artworks and statues showing the Buddha’s form. Finally, two artworks are discussed and shown: the first, a stone relief depicting the Buddha’s defeat of Mara the tempter from 2nd- or 3rd- century Pakistan or Afghanistan; the second, a scene drawn on a single leaf from the Bodhi tree in Bodhgaya by a Chinese artist in the Qing dynasty that shows a luohan, a disciple of the Buddha (Skt., arhat), taming a tiger.

The book’s authors do not stop at imagining the way Buddhist Asia appeared to an 8th-century pilgrim, however; rather, the goal is to think about Buddhism differently: “What we aimed to do was show Buddhism on the ground,” Rebecca Bloom, a collaborator on the book and doctoral candidate in Buddhist Studies under Lopez, explained to Tricycle. “We also wanted to show an international, nonevolutionary picture of Buddhism that avoided the linear story of how Buddhism developed in India and then spread north, gradually developing into various schools and so on. Instead, Hyecho’s Journey shows a snapshot of a transnational tradition at one point in time, viewed vertically across borders and lineages.”

The post Ancient Tradition Gets a New Look appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Shin Kim is teaching “Korean Buddhist Cooking,” a four-week Tricycle Online Course. To learn more and sign up, visit learn.tricycle.org.

If you’ve ever dined at a Korean restaurant, you know that every main course is served alongside a shareable spread of side dishes, known as banchan. In the spring of 2015, Shin Kim, a Seoul native and New York transplant, decided to bring these sides to center stage by launching Banchan Story, a culinary studio in lower Manhattan. Out of her kitchen start-up, she teaches the creation of traditional Korean dishes to home cooks at all skill levels, from fumbling beginners to second-generation Korean Americans eager to recover lost family recipes.

In 2008, a career switch from finance to food led Kim to enroll in New York City’s Institute of Culinary Education. Armed with her new degree, she refined her craft at several of the city’s finest French restaurants, where butter, cream, and salt abound. As for her path to becoming a small business owner, Kim says, “There are other ways of cooking that don’t sacrifice flavor or health”—which is why she returned to her roots for a little inspiration.

The seasonal ingredients Kim incorporates in her menus for hands-on classes are just as hearty and flavorful as they are steeped in Korea’s cultural heritage. Last spring, Kim shadowed Jeong Kwan—a virtuoso chef and longtime Buddhist nun—at her Chunjinam hermitage in South Korea. Under Kwan’s tutelage, Kim received a crash course in Buddhist temple cuisine, age-old fermenting techniques, and the merits of a plant-based diet. “As we foraged for spring herbs and planted vegetables in the fields,” Kim recalls, “it became clear that we were one step of a much larger process.”

Related: Cooking Your Way to Enlightenment with Beop Song

CAULIFLOWER POPCORN IN SWEET GOCHUJANG GLAZE

Makes 4 side servings
Recipe from Vegetarian Dishes from My Korean Home, by Shin Kim

Sweet Gochujang Glaze

1⁄4 cup (60 g) Korean fermented red pepper paste (gochujang)
2 tablespoons Japanese apricot syrup (maesil aek) or agave syrup
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon soy sauce 1 tablespoon water

Batter and Cauliflower

1⁄2 cup (90 g) potato starch
1⁄2 cup (80 g) all-purpose flour
3⁄4 cup (180 ml) water
1⁄2 teaspoon kosher salt
Pinch ground black pepper
Neutral vegetable oil, such as sunflower or canola oil, for deep-frying
1 (1 pound/450 g) head cauliflower, cut into bite-size florets
1 tablespoon toasted pumpkin seeds, for garnish (optional)

Cooking Instructions 

1. To make the gochujang glaze: In a large skillet, heat the gochujang, apricot syrup, sugar, soy sauce, and water over low heat, stirring often to combine thoroughly. Remove from the heat when it comes to a boil. Set aside.

2. To make the batter: In a large bowl, whisk together the potato starch, our, water, salt, and pepper to a smooth consistency.

3. Fill a deep, heavy pot about halfway with oil and heat over medium heat. Add a drop of the batter to see if the oil is hot enough for frying: when it is ready, the batter piece will sizzle and start floating right away.

4. To fry the cauliflower: Mix the florets into the batter to coat completely. In batches, without crowding, gently shake off excess batter from the cauliflower and carefully add to the pot. The battered cauliflower will drop to the bottom first, then float to the surface as it fries. When the florets look crispy all around, about 5 minutes, transfer to a plate. Repeat with the rest of the cauliflower.

5. Before serving, fry the cauliflower one more time in batches for about 3 minutes, until the pieces have a crispy texture and golden color.

6. Transfer the cauliflower to the skillet with the gochujang glaze. Over low heat, fold gently with a wooden spoon to nicely coat the cauliflower in the glaze.

7. Transfer the glazed cauliflower to a plate and garnish with toasted pumpkin seeds, if desired. Serve warm.

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What can decades-old fermented sauce, soybean paste, and ginger grain syrup tell us about Buddhist teachings on nonattachment, mental discipline, interdependence, and gratitude? As it turns out, a whole lot.

These ABCs of Korean ingredients were used to flavor dishes served during this year’s Korean Cultural Week, held from September 26–28 in New York City. The event, now in its fifth iteration, gave New Yorkers an insightful glimpse into South Korea’s culinary arts and rich Buddhist history.

Crafting the program’s menu was Beop Song, a Korean Buddhist nun and internationally acclaimed chef, though she winces at the latter title. But don’t let her pearl grey robes deceive you—Song can command a kitchen on a par with any top chef. (It may have something to do with the 20 years of meditation practice she has under her belt.)

Although temple food has a reputation for being tasteless and unimaginative, more than 55,000 foreigners flock to South Korea’s remote mountain temples every year to experience monastic life and dining, according to the Cultural Corps of Korean Buddhism.

Below, Song, a cookbook author, food columnist, and culinary instructor who splits her time between Yeongseonsa Temple in the foothills of Daejeon City, South Korea, and traveling the world, explains why the Korean Buddhist diet is so appealing to the Western palate. Behind the scenes at Korean Cultural Week, Tricycle spoke with Song through a translator to hear how the ancient art of Korean temple food can nourish our minds and bodies—and clean up our eating habits.

How did you discover your love for cooking? When I first started out as a Buddhist nun, I couldn’t really do much else outside the temple walls. During my first three years, the only thing I could do was go into the kitchen to watch others prepare food and help clean the dishes. Sometimes I would go into the backyard to wash lettuce and cook rice.

I spent the following four years studying Buddhist teachings more intensively. It was within that period that we had an opportunity to cook for other monks and nuns. I realized then how much I enjoyed it. The food I make today is the food I learned from watching my teachers and senior monks. Nowadays when I train young nuns in temple cooking I emphasize learning by doing.

It’s been over 20 years since you became a nun. What drew you to monastic life? I grew up in Uljin, a very small remote town in the mountains. It was a real no-man’s land and lacked a central temple. There was a monastery in a neighboring town, and I remember holding my grandmother’s hand, walking with her whenever she would go. Long before I became a nun I read Be As You Are, a collection of teachings by Sri Ramana Maharshi, and realized there was a completely different world out there that valued non-possession.

I’d like to share with you a verse from a song written by Naong Hyegeun, a 14th-century Seon Master [Seon is the Korean variant of Chan Buddhism]:

The green mountain asks me to live in silence
The blue sky asks me to live without dust
Letting go of anger and letting go of greed
They ask me to live and go away
Just like the stream and like the wind

To live like flowing water, like wind—this is why I shaved my head and put on these robes.

It seems like you are straddling two very different vocations. How have these two practices—the spiritual and culinary—informed one another? The eyes feed you by seeing, the nose by smelling, the ears by hearing, touch by feeling, and the mind by thinking. Everything in your body is doing its part to feed you. To meditate, work, and do just about anything, you have to eat, which is why food is very important for most people.

The words for Buddhist monk and nun are bhikkhu and bhikkhuni, which translate as “one who receives food” or “beggar.” In the larger Buddhist picture—and especially for monastics—food is a lesser concern. It allows us to survive so we can continue meditating. Its purpose is to sustain us.

For me, temple cooking is an exercise in gratitude and goes hand-in-hand with prayer. We make a lot of rice cakes in temples across Korea and always pour prayers into the food. Sometimes I’ll concentrate solely on studying, meditating, and strengthening my devotion. Other times, I’ll return to the kitchen. It is through cooking—something I deeply care about—that I’m able to introduce others to Buddhism. As temple food spreads globally, it has become a larger priority of mine, but when I’m at my temple eating and cooking with other nuns, it’s only a small part of my life. This is why I don’t consider myself a chef—I prefer to see myself as a Buddhist nun-in-training.

There are many fad diets that come and go, but the Buddhist diet, like the religion itself, has been popular in Korea for 1,700 years. It seems like today’s chefs, foodies, and a handful of scholars are starting to take note. Why the sudden wave in interest? The temple diet is mainly plant-based, with a focus on eating seasonal, locally grown foods. One reason could simply be that there are a growing number of vegans and vegetarians today who value these things. Although temple food has always existed in Korea, it hasn’t taken center stage because Koreans really love their meat and fish.

What can aspiring or well-established chefs, as well as those of us who dabble in the kitchen from time-to-time, learn from Korean Buddhist principles and traditional cooking methods? When monks and nuns first learn how to cook, they are taught to abide by three guidelines. The first is cleanliness. Your environment, ingredients, and most important, your mind, should all be clean. Once, I got scolded by a teacher of mine and went into the backyard to kick something a couple of times before returning to the kitchen. My teacher refused to eat the food I prepared because it had been poisoned by my anger.

The second guideline involves flexibility, moderation, and harmony. There are five pungent vegetables that are forbidden in temple cooking: scallion, garlic, chive, wild garlic, and onion. These five ingredients can change the taste of an entire dish. It is believed that when cooked, these components inspire lust, and when raw, incite anger. Monks should always be cautious and avoid foods that are stimulating. In Buddhism, anger and greed are considered part of food. You can choose whether or not you consume them.

Harmony comes from balancing six fundamental flavors: spicy, sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and bland. I like to think about whether the meals I’m preparing will help practitioners meditate, because that’s what monks are supposed to be doing in temples, right? You should try to keep those who will be eating your food in mind when you’re cooking. 

Once, I got scolded by a teacher of mine and went into the backyard to kick something a couple of times before returning to the kitchen. My teacher refused to eat the food I prepared because it had been poisoned by my anger.

Last, you should follow the natural order. You shouldn’t have to force anything to taste good. I was taught that only when you cook with your whole mind will the food’s natural flavor come out.

Your recipes and cooking style are incredibly inventive. When it comes to food, how important is creativity and personal expression?
There are certain foods that Koreans never get bored of: doenjang [fermented soybean paste] and bap [cooked rice] for starters. If you cook in the same way every day, people get bored. Eating the same foods over and over is tiring, too. If you give the same eggplant to a group of people, they’ll all come back with different dishes. The outcome will always change a little bit—it’s human nature. Since we have limited ingredients to work with, creativity is a natural part of everyday temple cooking.

At its heart, your philosophy of food is about transformation. During last week’s cooking demonstration, you showed us how to create something entirely new from ordinary, everyday ingredients.
One of my favorite dishes to make is gamja-gui, or pan-fried potato slices topped with a Korean red date (jujube) and chestnut garnish. This dish is not so much a recipe as it is something I learned by watching one of my teachers. Red dates and fresh chestnuts are commonly used in temple cooking and happen to be celebratory ingredients in Korea. They signify bountiful harvests and prosperity for families, which is why they often appear in wedding ceremonies.

At the end of February, we remove and shave the sprouts from the potatoes we’ve stored over the winter. Then, we plant them to grow a new harvest. We peel and slice the leftovers to make this dish. In our temples, we try not to waste a single drop of water or grain of rice. At the end of the day, it may look like a fancy presentation, but I’m cooking with one of the most universal ingredients. By dressing potatoes up with soy sauce, grain syrup, and all of these traditional Korean flavors, you get a unique, nutritious dish out of something that others would usually throw away.

You’ve likely heard the popular saying you are what you eat. Buddhists might amend this to  you are how you eat. How do our eating habits relate to the quality of our minds? Food—and the way we eat it—can be medicinal or poisonous for spiritual progress. Oftentimes, people worry too much about what they’re eating. Going back-and-forth worrying about whether to eat something is worse than actually just eating what you are given. What’s more important than what you eat is when and how much you’re eating. Whatever you’re consuming, if you’re eating lots of it, it can be hard to concentrate afterwards. Monks eat in small amounts and tend to satiate only 70 percent of their hunger. Even to this day, they will stop eating after noon to maintain a clear mind. Reducing the amount you consume and not eating to your heart’s content are two things anyone can incorporate into their lives.

Today, it is becoming more and more popular to eat late at night. There’s a saying in Korea: mealtime for the gods spans from 3 a.m. to 5 a.m.; humans eat from 9 a.m. to 12 p.m; animals eat in the evening around 5 p.m.; and ghosts eat after 9 p.m.

That definitely makes me a hungry ghost. [Laughs.] Not me, I go to bed at 9 in the evening and wake up at half past 3 to chant my morning prayers!

Learn about the guiding values, principles, and history of traditional Korean temple cuisine through quick, easy, and delicious recipes in “Korean Buddhist Cooking,” our new four-week Tricycle Online Course set to run on April 23. To learn more and sign up, visit learn.tricycle.org.

The post Cooking Your Way to Enlightenment with Korean Buddhist Nun and Chef Beop Song appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.

Buddhist cooking is beginning to make a big splash on the international culinary stage. And apparently, New York foodies are hungry for this niche cuisine.

Over 330 New Yorkers have signed up to taste Korean Buddhist temple fare and receive hands-on cooking instruction from Korean Buddhist nun, renowned chef, and author Beop Song this fall. From September 26-28, the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism—the largest Buddhist order in Korea—is hosting its fourth annual Korean Temple Cultural Week. Held at the Astor Center in Manhattan, gastronauts of all faiths will gather to learn about Korean monastic culture and taste flavors from 1,700 years of the country’s culinary heritage.

Song will be making a special trip from her home monastery in Daejeon City, South Korea, to oversee workshops, lectures, cooking demonstrations, and tastings.

The three-day cultural event sold out in record time, according to event organizers. (There is a waitlist.)

Those still interested in Korean culinary arts, meditation, and traditional monastic life can participate in an overnight stay at six regional temples around New York and New Jersey as part of the 2017 Korean Templestay program. 

In Korea, temple food is considered part of a wider meditative practice known as baru gongyang, which involves a way of eating suffused with gratitude. During meals, practitioners reflect upon where their food has come from and all beings involved in the preparatory process. Before taking their first bite, monks and nuns will chant:

Where has this food come from?

My virtues are so few that I am hardly worthy to receive it. I will take it as medicine to get rid of greed in my mind and to maintain my physical being in order to achieve enlightenment.

Song, who has authored several cookbooks, teaches traditional Korean temple cooking at culinary institutions all over the world. She will be serving several of her famed signature dishes during Cultural Week.

Using fresh ingredients from Korea’s Gangwon Province, Song will prepare a four-course dinner each night for select guests inspired by “monastic dining” and the landscape of her native country. The first course emulates breakfast served in a mountain temple, with gamja on-sim-e juk, or a potato dumpling porridge with sweet pumpkin, zucchini, and shiitake mushrooms, accompanied by miyeok-gui tuigak, or crispy sea mustard, foraged from the East Sea of Korea. Seaweed holds special significance for Korean monastics, as it is the first food eaten after monks shave their heads during an ordination ceremony. Song’s second dish, bae-naengmyeon, is a chilled pear noodle soup paired with a buckwheat crepe filled with aged kimchi.

When your taste buds tire, you can try your hand at woodblock printing—a centuries-old method used in East Asia and China to assemble and bind Buddhist texts by carving letters on woodblocks and pressing them onto paper.

Related: The Buddhist History of Moveable Type

There will also be guided workshops on making lotus lanterns out of traditional Korean paper hanji and decorative hand fans. Once you’ve satiated your arts-and-crafts fix, you’ll have the chance to share a cup of tea with a Korean monk and ask any Buddhist- or practice-related questions you’ve had on your mind.

Whether you’re a seasoned Buddhist practitioner or an enlightened epicurean, you won’t need to use your airline miles to “Seoulsearch.”

Korean Templestay & Temple Food Cultural Week will be held from September 26-28 at Astor Center in New York City. For more information on the Korean Templestay program, click here.

Learn about the guiding values, principles, and history of traditional Korean temple cuisine through quick, easy, and delicious recipes in “Korean Buddhist Cooking,” our new four-week Tricycle Online Course set to run on April 23. To learn more and sign up, visit learn.tricycle.org.

The post Taste 1,700 Years of Traditional Buddhist Cooking at New York City’s Korean Cultural Week appeared first on Tricycle: The Buddhist Review.