World Religions Report
First Encounter
You are in Asia, visiting someone you met two years ago at a college dance performance. Lin
was an exchange student then, eager to learn about other cultures, and she invited you to visit her
when you could. That time is now. You are staying with her family.
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“I’ll show you one of my favorite places,” Lin says, as you climb into a taxi. She gives the
address to the driver, who knows the place well. You pass along a street bustling with
motorcycles, bicycles, vendors’ wagons, and people jaywalking between cars. After fifteen
perilous minutes, you pull up in front of a building with three wide stairs and high pillars
supporting the roof. The stone columns are carved with writhing dragons. A large metal brazier
is in front of the temple, and from it rises a cloud of incense.
Your friend buys long sticks of incense from a nearby booth and gives some to you.
“Do the same thing I do,” she says.
Lin goes to the brazier, lights the incense, lifts the sticks several times, bows, and places the
sticks into the brazier. Then she helps you do the same. The people around you watch with great
interest. When you are finished, you walk with Lin into the temple.
Just inside the door are two tall, furious-looking golden statues.
“They are guardian gods,” Lin says. “They are keeping out bad people.”
The interior is amazing. It looks like a golden opera theater. At the back of the sanctuary are
several stories of windows with lighted statues inside. More altars are situated against each of the
interior walls. In the center of the room are about a dozen large tables, all loaded with offerings:
oranges, bananas, watermelons, water lilies, chrysanthemums, and much more. “The main god of
this temple is Mazu,” Lin explains. “She was the daughter of a fisherman’s family, and she
helped her father and brothers when they were in danger of drowning. Mazu has been worshiped
for a thousand years. She’s popular in China, Taiwan, Vietnam, and other places. The Daoists
claim her, but so do others, too.”
Lin points out the statues of many other gods, explaining who they are. You stop in front of a
circle, which appears to have two large commas inside.
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“That is the symbol of the Dao, with yin and yang mixing together,” Lin says.
As you walk around, you see a woman throwing what look like two crescents onto the floor.
“She is asking questions,” Lin says, “and the wooden pieces that she is throwing tell her ‘yes’ or
‘no’ or ‘maybe.’”
At last you emerge from the temple and sit together on the stairs in the sunlight. An old lady
comes by, guiding her little grandson who is on a red tricycle. A man close to you is selling
“spirit money”—paper with gold and silver printing—and three women next to him are selling
water lilies from pots, for offering in the temple. Across the street are restaurants, an electronics
store, and a motorcycle-repair shop. The street is noisy. Out here it is just another day.
You wonder, who is Mazu? Who are Daoists? What is the Dao? What are yin and yang? And
why do the Chinese have so many gods?
Basic Elements of Traditional Chinese Beliefs
Confucianism, Daoism (Taoism*), and Buddhism have been collectively called the Three
Doctrines, and together they have had a profound influence on Chinese culture and history.
Buddhism, as we saw in Chapter 4, was an import to China, with roots in Indian belief.
Confucianism and Daoism, on the other hand, sprouted and grew up side by side in the soil of
indigenous Chinese belief (see Figure 6.1). We thus begin our study of these two Chinese
religious systems by considering some of the features of traditional Chinese belief and practice.
Figure 6.1 Daoist and Confucian religious sites.
Early Chinese belief was a blend of several elements. Some of them, such as a belief in spirits,
can be traced back more than three thousand years. The following elements provided a basis for
later developments in Chinese religion and were especially important to the development of
Confucianism and Daoism.
Spirits Early Chinese belief thought of spirits as active in every aspect of nature and the
human world. Good spirits brought health, wealth, long life, and fertility. Bad spirits
caused accidents and disease. Disturbances of nature, such as droughts and earthquakes,
were punishments from spirits for human failings, but harmony could be restored through
rituals and sacrifice.
* Note: As mentioned earlier, the pinyin system of romanizing Chinese words will be
used in this book, with the older Wade-Giles spellings of important names following their
pinyin versions in parentheses. (Pinyin pronunciation is generally similar to English
usage, except that the pronunciation of c is ts, q is ch, and x is sh.) The pinyin spelling of
all Chinese words is used by the United Nations and is becoming standard in the world of
scholarship and art. The older Wade-Giles spelling of Taoism, Tao, and Tao Te Ching are
still common, but they are now being supplanted by Daoism, Dao, and Daodejing (also
spelled Daode jing, Daode Jing, and Dao De Jing).
Tian During the Shang dynasty (c. 1500–c. 1100 BCE) the omnipotent power that was
believed to rule the world was called Shang Di (Shang Ti) and was thought of as a
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personal god, capable of being contacted by diviners. Perhaps Shang Di was the memory
of an ancestor, and the veneration of Shang Di was part of the ancient practice of
honoring ancestors. In the Zhou (Chou) dynasty (c. 1100–256 BCE), a new political
regime—the Zhou kings—ignored the Shang belief and began explaining life in terms of
a different conception, Tian (T’ien), which is usually translated as “Heaven.” It appears
that Tian was envisioned both as an impersonal divine force that controls events on earth
and as a cosmic moral principle that determines right and wrong.
Veneration of ancestors The same cautious reverence that was shown to spirits was also
naturally felt for ancestors. Ancestors at death became spirits who needed to be placated
to ensure their positive influence on living family members. Veneration of ancestors
provided the soil for the growth of Confucianism.
Seeing patterns in nature China’s long and mighty rivers, high mountain chains, distinct
seasons, and frequent floods, droughts, and earthquakes all influenced the Chinese view
of the natural world. To survive, the Chinese people had to learn that while they could not
often control nature, they could learn to work with it when they understood its underlying
patterns. Some of the patterns were quite easy to discern, such as the progression of the
seasons, the paths of the sun and moon, and the cycle of birth and death. Others were
more subtle, like the motion of waves and the ripple of mountain ranges, as well as the
rhythm of the Dao (which we will discuss shortly) and the alternations of yang and yin.
Daoism may be traced back to this concern for finding—and working within—natural
patterns.
Yang and yin After about 1000 BCE the Chinese commonly thought that the universe
expressed itself in opposite but complementary principles: light and dark, day and night,
hot and cold, sky and earth, summer and winter. The list was virtually infinite: male and
female, right and left, front and back, up and down, out and in, sound and silence, birth
and death. It even came to include “strong foods,” such as meat and ginger, and “weak
foods,” such as fish and rice. The names for the two complementary principles are yang
and yin.
Yang and yin, symbolized by a circle of light and dark, represent the complementary but
opposing forces of the universe that generate all forms of reality.
These principles are not the same as good and evil. Yang is not expected to win over the
force of yin, or vice versa; rather, the ideal is a dynamic balance between the forces. In
fact, the emblem of balance is the yin-yang circle, divided into what look like two
intertwined commas. One half is light, representing yang; the other is dark, representing
yin. Inside each division is a small dot of the contrasting color that represents the seed of
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the opposite. The dot suggests that everything contains its opposite and will eventually
become its opposite. Both forces are dynamic and in perfect balance as they change, just
as day and night are in balance as they progress. We can think of yang and yin as
pulsations or waves of energy, like a heartbeat or like breathing in and out.
At the Temple of Heaven, in Beijing, the emperor performed ceremonies to honor Tian
(“Heaven”).
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© Bilderbuch/Design Pics/Corbis
Divination Divination is a system that is used for looking into the future. It was an
integral part of early Chinese tradition. The oldest technique involved the reading of lines
in bones and tortoise shells. Later, an elaborate practice was developed that involves the
Yijing (I Ching), the Book of Changes. It is an ancient book that interprets life through
an analysis of hexagrams. A hexagram is a figure of six horizontal lines. There are two
kinds of lines: divided (yin) and undivided (yang). A hexagram is made of two
trigrams—figures of three lines each.) A hexagram is “constructed” by tossing sticks or
coins and writing down the results, beginning with the bottom line. Thus sixty-four
different hexagrams are possible. The hexagrams are thought to represent patterns that
can develop in one’s life, and the Yijing gives an interpretation of each hexagram. With
the help of the Yijing, a person can interpret a hexagram as an aid in making decisions
about the future.
This hexagram for “contemplation” is made from two trigrams. The lower trigram means
“earth,” and the upper trigram means “wind.”
We now turn to two great systems of Chinese religious thought, Daoism and Confucianism,
which many consider to be complementary traditions. Daoism is often thought to emphasize the
yin aspects of reality and Confucianism the yang. Together they form a unity of opposites.
Although we’ll discuss these systems separately, one before the other, separate treatment is
something of a fiction. The two systems grew up together and actually, as they developed, helped
generate each other. We must keep this in mind as we study them.
Daoism
Because it incorporated some of the previously mentioned elements and many others from
traditional Chinese belief and practice, Daoism is really like a shopping cart filled with a variety
of items: observations about nature, philosophical insights, guidelines for living, exercises for
health, rituals of protection, and practices for attaining longevity and inner purity. We should
note, however, that Daoism and Chinese folk religion are not exactly the same thing, although
the terms are often used interchangeably, and in some cases the border between the two is not
clear.
Daoism includes ideas and practices from the earliest phases, represented in the Daodejing and
Zhuangzi (Daoist scriptures, which we’ll discuss shortly), as well as innumerable later
developments. It was once common to make a distinction between the earliest phase, which was
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praised for its philosophy, and later ritualistic and religious development, which was less
appreciated. But scholars in recent decades have given great attention to a host of Daoist topics:
liturgy, lineages of masters, religious communities, monasticism, deities, prayers, art, clothing,
and even dance. Scholars see these developments as a part of the organic growth of the early
insights. While continuing to value the ideas espoused in the early documents, scholars today
point out that the “real” Daoism is the entire spectrum of development, from the earliest ideas to
contemporary practices.
The Origins of Daoism
The origins of Daoism, quite appropriately, are mysterious. Its earliest documents contain many
threads—shamanism, appreciation for the hermit’s life, desire for unity with nature, and a
fascination with health, long life, breathing, meditation, and trance. These many threads point to
a multiplicity of possible sources, which seem to have coalesced to produce the movement.
Laozi (Lao Tzu)
Every movement needs a founder, and Daoists trace themselves back to a legendary figure
named Laozi (Lao Tzu), whose name means “old master” or “old child.” Whether Laozi ever
existed is unknown. He may have been a real person, the blending of historical information about
several figures, or a mythic creation.
In the traditional story, Laozi’s birth (c. 600 BCE; Timeline 6.1, p. 212) resulted from a virginal
conception. According to legend, the child was born old—hence the name “old child.” Laozi
became a state archivist, or librarian, in the royal city of Loyang for many years. (Legendary
stories also relate how Confucius came to discuss philosophy with the old man.) Eventually
tiring of his job, Laozi left his post and, carried by an ox, traveled to the far west of China. At the
western border, Laozi was recognized as an esteemed scholar and prohibited from crossing until
he had written down his teachings. The result was the Daodejing, a short book of about five
thousand Chinese characters. After Laozi was finished, he left China, traveling westward. Later
stories about Laozi continued to elaborate his myth. He was said to have taken his teachings to
India, later returned to China, and ascended into the sky. He was soon treated as a deity, the
human incarnation of the Dao. In this capacity he came to be called Lord Lao. Many stories were
told of his apparitions. He continues to be worshiped as divine by many Daoists.
The Daodejing
The Daodejing (Tao Te Ching) is generally seen as one of the world’s greatest books. It is also
the great classic of Daoism, accepted by most Daoists as a central scripture. Its title can be
translated as “the classical book about the Way and its power.” Sometimes the book is also
called the Laozi (Lao Tzu), after its legendary author. Possibly because of its brevity and
succinctness, it has had an enormous influence on Chinese culture.
The book has been linguistically dated to about 350 BCE, but it seems to have circulated in
several earlier forms. In 1972, at the tombs of Mawangdui, archeologists discovered two ancient
copies of the text that differ from the arrangement commonly used. Another shorter ancient
version was found in a tomb at Guodian in 1993. It contains about one-third of the standard text. 1
The version that is commonly known and used is from the third century CE.
In the eighty-one chapters of the Daodejing, we recognize passages that seem to involve early
shamanistic elements, such as reaching trance states and attaining invulnerability (see chapters 1,
16, 50, and 55). The book shows some repetition, has no clear order, and exhibits a deliberate
lack of clarity. In form, each chapter is more poetry than prose. This combination of elements
suggests that the book is not the work of a single author but is rather the assembled work of
many people, gathered over time. It may be a collection of what were once oral proverbs and
sayings.
TimeLine 6.1
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Timeline of significant events in the history of Daoism and Confucianism.
What was the original purpose of the book? One theory holds that its overall purpose was
political, that it was meant as a handbook for rulers; another sees it primarily as a religious
guidebook, meant to lead adherents to spiritual insight; and still another views it as a practical
guide for living in harmony with the universe. It is possible that the Daodejing fulfilled all these
purposes and that its passages can have several meanings at the same time. Part of the genius of
the book is its brevity and use of paradox: its meaning depends on who is interpreting it.
Throughout the Daodejing are references to the Dao. The book speaks of its nature and
operation; it describes the manner in which people will live if they are in harmony with the Dao;
and it gives suggestions for experiencing the Dao. The book also provides images to help
describe all of these things. What, though, is “the Dao”?
The Daodejing begins famously by saying that the Dao is beyond any description. It states that
the Dao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Dao. In other words, we cannot really put into
words exactly what the Dao is—a fact that is ironic because the book itself uses words. Yet the
book goes on to tell us that the Dao is “nameless”; that is, it is not any individual thing that has a
name, such as a door, a tree, a bird, a person. The Dao cannot be named because it has no form.
But the Dao can be experienced and followed by every individual thing that has a name. The
Daodejing says the Dao is the origin of everything and that all individual things are
“manifestations” of the Dao.
Although the Dao is the origin of nature, it is not “God,” because it does not have personality. It
neither cares about human beings nor dislikes them—it only produces them, along with the rest
of nature. Because the Dao makes nature move the way it does, it can be called the way or the
rhythm of nature.
To experience the Dao, we must leave behind our desires for individual things, a concept that
runs counter to everyday concerns—how much something costs, what time it is now, whether
something is big or small. In fact, the Daoist way of seeing things is so odd to some people that
at first it seems like trying to see in the dark, as the end of the first chapter of the Daodejing
describes:
Darkness within darkness.
The gate to all mystery.
The Daoist sees things differently. To illustrate, there is an intriguing example in the twentieth
chapter of the Daodejing: A Daoist is observing a group of people who are in a park, celebrating
a holiday. They all seem happy as they climb up to the top of a terrace where a ceremony will
occur. They appear to know what they are doing and where they are going. Not the Daoist,
though, who feels “formless” and “like the ocean”—adrift. 2 The Daoist is troubled by the
contrast. The others seem happy and sure of themselves, but the Daoist can only watch, and feels
strangely like an outsider. Then the chapter ends with a sudden, extraordinary affirmation. The
Daoist recognizes something intensely personal and difficult but willingly accepts the sense of
separateness from the others and from their conventional way of seeing things. The Daoist
accepts, and concludes,
Laozi, the “father of Daoism,” is here portrayed riding on an ox.
© Burstein Collection/Corbis
I am different.
I am nourished by the great mother.
Thus, the Dao cannot be “known” in the same way that we see a car or hear a sound, for
example. It cannot be perceived directly but rather by intuition. Perhaps it is like the difference
between only hearing musical sounds and recognizing a song.
The Daodejing presents several powerful images wherein the Dao seems most active and visible.
Contemplating them can help us experience the Dao, and by taking on some of the qualities of
these images, we begin to live in harmony with the Dao that inhabits them. Several common
images follow:
Water Water is gentle, ordinary, and lowly, but strong and necessary. It flows around
every obstacle. Chapter eight of the Daodejing praises it: “The highest good is like
water.” 3 It assists all things “and does not compete with them.”
4
Woman The female is sensitive, receptive, yet effective and powerful.
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Child The child is full of energy, wonder, and naturalness.
Valley The valley is yin, and it is mystery.
Darkness Darkness can be safe, full of silence and possibility.
Deeper Insights: The Seasons of Life
A famous story illustrates what it means to live in harmony with nature: Upon hearing of the
death of Zhuangzi’s wife, a friend, Huizi (Hui Tzu), goes to offer sympathy. Although he expects
to find Zhuangzi crying and in ritual mourning, Huizi finds Zhuangzi instead singing and
drumming on a bowl. Huizi is shocked—and says so. Responding in a thoughtful way, Zhuangzi
says that at first his wife’s death saddened him terribly, but then he reflected on the whole cycle
of her existence. Before his wife was a human being, she was without shape or life, and her
original self was a part of the formless substance of the universe. Then she became a human
being. “Now there’s been another change, and she’s dead. It’s just like the progression of the
four seasons, spring, summer, fall, winter.” 5 When winter comes, we do not mourn. That would
be ungrateful. Similarly, a human being goes through seasons. Zhuangzi describes his wife as
now being like someone asleep in a vast room. “If I were to follow after her bawling and
sobbing, it would show that I don’t know anything about fate. So I stopped.” 6
In this story, note that Zhuangzi is singing and playing on a bowl. Rather than mourn passively,
he does something to counteract his sorrow. His singing is a profound human response, quite
believable. And Zhuangzi does not say that as a result of his insight he no longer feels sad.
Rather, he says that as far as mourning is concerned, “I stopped.” In other words, despite his
feelings, he deliberately behaves in a way that seems more grateful to the universe and therefore
more appropriate than mourning.
This tale suggests that to live in harmony with nature means to accept all its transformations. The
great Dao produces both yang and yin, which alternate perpetually. The story says that yin and
yang are our parents and we must obey them. If we cannot embrace the changes, we should at
least observe them with an accepting heart.
Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu)
Daoism was enriched by the work of Zhuangzi (Chuang Tzu), who was active about 300 BCE.
What we know of him comes from the writings he left behind. His personality seems playful,
independent, and in love with the fantastic. The book of his writings, called the Zhuangzi
(Chuang Tzu), is composed of seven “inner chapters,” which are thought to be by the author
himself, and twenty-six “outer chapters,” whose authorship is less certain.
The Zhuangzi, unlike the poetry of the Daodejing, contains many whimsical stories. It continues
the themes of early Daoist thought, such as the need for harmony with nature, the movement of
the Dao in all that happens, and the pleasure that we can gain from simplicity. It underscores the
inevitability of change and the relativity of all human judgments. It also adds to Daoism an
appreciation for humor—something that is quite rare in the scriptures of the world.
Perhaps the most famous of all the stories in the book tells of Zhuangzi’s dream of being a
butterfly. In his dream he was flying around and enjoying life, but he did not know that he was
Zhuangzi. When he woke up he was struck by a question: Am I a person dreaming that I am a
butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a person? This story hints that the boundary
between reality and the imaginary is not really as clear as we might think.
Another story makes fun of people’s judgments and the arbitrariness of their joy and anger. A
trainer gave his monkeys three acorns in the morning and four at night. When the monkeys
conveyed their dissatisfaction with receiving too few acorns in the morning, the trainer obliged,
giving them four acorns in the morning and three at night. As a result, “the monkeys were all
delighted.” 7
The Zhuangzi rejects every barrier, including that between the ordinary and the fantastic,
between the normal and the paranormal, as hinted by the story of the butterfly dream. But the
love of the marvelous really shows itself best in some stories that talk of the supernatural powers
that a wise person can attain. The Zhuangzi tells of an exceptional person who could tell
everything about one’s past and future, another who could ride on the wind, and another who
was invulnerable to heat or pain. The Zhuangzi thus elaborates the potential results of being one
with the Dao.
Basic Early TEACHINGS
The main teachings of the Daodejing and the Zhuangzi can be summarized as follows:
Dao This is the name for whatever mysterious reality makes nature to be what it is and to
act the way it does. The Chinese character for Dao is commonly translated as “way,” but
it has also been translated as “existence,” “pattern,” and “process.” Primarily, the Dao is
the way that nature expresses itself—the natural way. Human beings can unite
themselves with the Dao in the way they live.
Wu wei: the ideal of effortlessness To have stern commandments would go against the
nature of Daoism; but it does offer recommendations about how to live—
recommendations that do not come from a divine voice but from nature, the model of
balance and harmony. The recommendation most often mentioned in the Daodejing is wu
wei, which literally means “no action.” Perhaps a better translation is “no strain” or
“effortlessness.” The ideal implies the avoidance of unnecessary action or action that is
not spontaneous. If we look at nature, we notice that many things happen quietly,
effortlessly: plants grow, birds and animals are born, and nature repairs itself after a
storm. Nature works to accomplish only what is necessary, but no more. Consider the
plain strength of the ordinary bird nest. Birds build homes according to their needs, and
what they make is simple and beautiful; they don’t require circular driveways, pillars, or
marbled entryways. The ideal of “no strain” is the antithesis of all those sweat-loving
mottoes such as “No pain, no gain” and “Onward and upward.”
The boatman who goes with the river’s flow is an example of wu wei in practice.
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Simplicity Daoism has often urged its followers to eliminate whatever is unnecessary and
artificial and to appreciate the simple and the apparently ordinary. In this regard, Daoists
have tended to distrust any highly formal education, owing to its inherent complexity and
artificiality. (This was one of their major complaints against the Confucians, who put so
much trust in education.) In a passage that has delighted students for centuries, the
Daodejing in the twentieth chapter states its opinion: “Give up learning, and put an end to
your troubles.”
Gentleness Because Daoists pursue the gentle way, they hate weapons and war. The wise
person loves peace and restraint and avoids all unnecessary violence. The wise person
“does not regard weapons as lovely things. For to think them lovely means to delight in
them, and to delight in them means to delight in the slaughter of men.” 8
Relativity People see things from a limited point of view that is based on their own
concerns. They see things in terms of divisions: I-you, good-bad, expensive-cheap,
valuable-worthless, beautiful-ugly, and so forth. Daoists believe that it is necessary to
attain a vision of things that goes beyond these apparent opposites.