Buddhistdoor International Buddhistdoor View
2015-04-17
Practitioner Bernard of Clairvaux
(1090–1153) was an astute observer of the psychology of religious
donors. He saw how they found churches or cathedrals of splendid
design and beauty irresistible and how they scrambled to offer them
their money. Conversely, poorer, humbler, and less illustrious
churches weren’t seen as attractive repositories for donations.
This resulted in a vicious cycle of declining revenue for the
luckless chapels, which led to deteriorating architecture and
failing repairs, and therefore even less attention from desperately
needed donors.
“In this way wealth is derived from wealth, in this
way money attracts money,” St. Bernard noted irritably, “because by
I know not what law, wherever the more riches are seen, there
the more willingly are offerings made” (Rudolph 1990,
280–81).
St. Bernard’s
observations couldn’t be
more relevant to the latest Buddhist developments in Hong Kong. On
15 April, Tsz Shan Monastery in Tai Po opened to the public after
much excitement in the press. Easily one of the grandest Buddhist
projects in recent memory, it is notable for its massive budget,
some of it spent on the lobby’s marble tiles, bathrooms befitting a
hotel, and bulletproof windows for the dormitories. The temple
complex boasts the elegant majesty of Tang dynasty architecture,
covers 500,000 square feet, and boasts a 249-foot bronze-forged
statue of Guanyin. Magnate Li Ka-shing contributed over HK$1.5
billion from his foundation to this project. There have been
numerous private visits by foreign dignitaries, businessmen, and
influential members of the Hong Kong community. It is beyond doubt
that Tsz Shan will attract favor and donations for years to
come.
We should wholeheartedly celebrate the
philanthropists who are assisting the resurgence of Buddhism in
Hong Kong. It is nevertheless difficult not to notice the stark
difference between Tsz Shan’s fortunes and those of the monasteries
in the rural “enclave” of Luk Wu. According to the Geography
Department of The University of Hong
Kong, Luk Wu is home to 38
Buddhist temples. One, Luk Wu Ching She, was built in 1883 as a
Daoist establishment before being given to the Caodong school of
Chan Buddhism, and is listed as a Grade II Historical
Building. Most of the
temples, however, are derelict. Many are home to aging monastic
residents. Barely able to walk, these monks and nuns depend on the
goodwill of lay hikers to go “temple-hopping” across the hills with
bags of rice, vegetables, and packaged drinks, unloading as much as
possible at the temples (which otherwise have no access to wet
markets or supermarkets).
Green and tranquil, Luk Wu has always been
recognized as an ideal place for meditation. One unusual phenomenon
here is the small community of unmarried middle-aged to elderly
laywomen who engage in Buddhist practice and meditation, supporting
each other in a spiritual network that can’t be boxed within
traditional definitions. They aren’t female monastics, yet they
effectively practice as such.
The monasteries of Luk Wu have no consistent private
sponsor to sustain their meager upkeep. A discussion
paper (published on 10 October 2014 by the Planning and Conservation
Sub-committee of the Lantau Development Advisory
Committee) noted that after its 2010-11 Policy Address, the Hong Kong
government covered Luk Wu (among
other enclaves) with statutory plans
for the purpose
of conservation and social
development needs. The government has also graded several temples
(both Buddhist and Daoist) in the area as sites needing
preservation. Most notably, the Policy Address made note of
“incompatible developments” that needed to be prohibited for the
long-term well-being of the sites.
But Ho Pui Han, chairperson of the Association of
Tai O Environment and Development (Tai O is a village on Lantau
Island near Luk Wu),* is not convinced that the government is being
proactive enough in enforcing these commitments. “The government
has no coherent methodology to enforce its policies on Luk Wu’s
conservation. Nor does it recognize the importance of many of its
landmarks as sites of religious culture,” she said. “In recent
years there has been a fall in monastic numbers due to wider
demographic factors, and the lack of practical care for these
places is compounded by the fact that no individual or institution
is willing to take over the administration of these
structures. There
are issues of
disrepairplaguing many structures.”
Worse yet are the reports about missing items from the
temples and creeping attempts to commercialize the area. The
association is concerned that the government is passive in the face
of challenges to its conservation policy, which in turn has led to
a sense of insecurity and disempowerment among locals. Some
temples have suffered from
visible human intervention, such as Buddhist statues being moved
outdoors by unknown parties. Also of
great concern is the threat to
the religiously significant
and endangered tree, aquilaria sinensis, which is endemic to
China. Aquilaria sinensis has had a long and influential history among the
temples in Luk Wu and in China. It is used to make the
incense tu chen
xiang, or
eaglewood, as well as
medicines. I-Cable has
reported 134 cases in Hong Kong for 2014 alone
where these trees were
vandalized orcut down for their sap and wood,
and 21 cases from January to March this year
already. With aquilaria
sinensis becoming a protected species and the use
of tu chen
xiang dying
out in Hong Kong, it is becoming an ever more
attractive item to sell and
export.
“The humble and politically
uninvolved monastics don’t wish to highlight their plight via the press
or media outlets,” said
Ho. “We’re severely handicapped in our cultural conservation efforts
without active government assistance. Monastics and institutions of
note and prestige need to be more open to the problems these women
are facing.”
Tsz Shan Monastery and the Luk Wu enclave represent
different faces of the Buddhist inheritance. One is imperial and
magnificent; the other is as dilapidated as it is irreplaceable.
Both faces, the beautiful and the decrepit, are part of Hong Kong’s
heritage. But extra action needs to be taken for the benefit of the
practitioners and temples in Luk Wu, especially when the future of
their homes is more precarious than government papers would
suggest. Cultural preservation is not glamorous work, but it is
crucial. The philanthropists that understand this are of an
especially noble stripe.