Keeping the spirit alive

VEGETARIAN SHRINES: Vegetarianism has become a trendy thing to do, especially during the recent 10-day Chinese Vegetarian Festival. Curiously though, an opposite fate has befallen the places of worship where the festival is traditonally celebrated

VASANA CHINVARAKORN and SUPARA JANCHITFAH

It was not so long ago that when the Chinese Vegetarian Festival rolled around in October, worshippers would head for the rong jay, or vegetarian shrine, in their neighbourhood or hometown.

For 10 austere days they would chant and meditate, wearing only white garments and eating only vegetables, rice and noodles.

In recent years, though, the shrines, mostly located in old Chinese communities, have suffered a decline in attendance, so much so that many have closed their doors forever. It seems that Chinese as well as Thai believers have opted instead to observe the festival at home.

Ironically, this decline comes alongside the rise in popularity of vegetarianism among Thais. The latter, it seems, has actually contributed to the former. Responding to popular demand, most stores, shops and stalls now carry vegetarian delicacies.

Even herbivores too lazy to wait in line at a shop flying the yellow vegetarian flag can opt for the canned varieties that line supermarket shelves. Lured by the potential of big profits, manufacturers of food products have come up with new lines catering especially to vegetarians. Last year the value of canned vegetable food was estimated at 180 million baht, six times more than in 1993, according to a report conducted by Thai Farmers Bank Research Centre.

"It's so easy now to get vegetarian food. It's no longer necessary to brave the traffic jams to get to the shrine to participate in the festival," reasoned Pia, a Sino-Thai businesswoman and occasional vegetarian.

The changing tastes of vegetarians in Thailand, too, have played a part in the shrines' reversal of fortune. While the typical vegetarian fare available during the festival consisted of simple fermented vegetables, peanuts and boiled rice, modern versions include such innovations as vegetarian "steaks", "chicken", "leg of pork" and "fish maw soup", with most of the "meat" made from a type of chewy starch called gluten, then disguised in all kinds of flavouring and sauces. Vegetarians who prefer these new varieties enjoy them at home rather than be limited to the small menu offered at most vegetarian shrines.

While attendance has always been affected by family and work obligations, the hectic pace of modern urban life has eroded it even further. Too busy to take 10 days off work or school, visitors to the shrines now drop in for an hour of worship just once or twice during the festival. Even that is impossible for some to manage.

"My kids used to go with me for worship, now they all work and don't have time for it anymore," lamented Pia's mother, Somsri, in her 60s, a faithful observer who has been visiting one vegetarian shrine in Ratchawong for 30 years.

"Now the shrine is full of oldies like me. Very few young people go."

CHANGING TIMES

Since many vegetarian shrines are seasonal in nature, drawing visitors only during the 10-day festival and other activities during the year, low attendance during the festival can mean a major drop in the donations they depend on to survive.

To attract visitors and raise funds, some shrines host spirit medium sessions twice a month, offering consultations with deities. Some take to selling amulets or screening open-air movies.

During the festival, some provincial shrines boasting impressive architecture, sculpture or religious art open their doors to worshippers who come on organised tours from Bangkok or other provinces.

Every year during the festival travel agencies organise "pilgrimage" trips to visit such shrines, the most popular in Phuket and Trang having the added attraction of gruesome sideshows of self-torture by believers. In the central region, most tours head for Ratchaburi and Chon Buri, the two provinces with many large vegetarian shrines.

Aside from low attendance and lack of funds, vegetarian shrines also suffer from an inadequate supply of monks to preach and perform religious rites. While Chinese temples have their own resident monks, vegetarian shrines have no monks of their own and must rely on those "on loan" from other temples. These monks must be ordained in the Mahayana sect and need to be able to pray in Chinese, at least passably.

"There are not enough monks for every shrine. We have to wait our turn for a monk to come to us. Some shrines end up getting lay people to conduct the chanting," complained Boonchai Korcharoen, a committee member of a shrine in Ratchaburi.

"Sometimes we even have to teach newly-ordained monks how to properly recite the prayers," sighed the 53-year-old devotee.

Despite the problems plaguing them, vegetarian shrines will survive, albeit in lesser numbers, insist their believers.

One of the shrines' saving graces is the firm belief among devotees that observing the festival at the shrines as well as supporting them financially carry great merit.

The degree of devoutness runs from simple abstinence of meat, milk, eggs and a few veggies (see side story) to full-scale refraining from sex and any form of negative thought. The more austere the observation, the greater the merit to be gained.

"It's like a temporary ordination," observed Boonchai. "You can observe these things at home, but it's much easier and fruitful to do so at a temple, in this case, a vegetarian shrine. For example, the shrine has separate areas for men and women, so husbands and wives, even when they both attend, can't mingle and be tempted."

SOUL CLEANSING

Abstinence, as well as the cleansing of the soul through chanting and meditation, believe the followers, will bring them good luck and prosperity.

"I was just a salesman," recounted a follower of Siang Kheng Tua, a large and active shrine in Talad Phlu. "Now I run my own thread-making factory with many people working for me. My life has improved greatly and I attribute my prosperity to the merit I gained from years of doing charity work for the shrine.

"I could make piles of money in one day, but I leave my work for 10 days a year and help out here for free," he continued, while on his knees scraping candle wax from the shrine's marble floor as the last worshipper celebrating this year's festival leaves the building. "You can't see it (spiritual power), but it's there."

Another thing working in favour of the shrines' survival is their function as a reinforcement of ties among former residents of a community.

At Ratchaburi, for example, one of the 10 days of the festival is devoted to visiting other nearby shrines, by land or water, giving worshippers the chance to return to their roots.

In fact, the Vegetarian Festival seems to be the only Chinese festivity that gives communities an annual opportunity to celebrate together; others are geared more towards outings with one's own family and close relatives.

As an extension of its charitable goal, some vegetarian shrines also try to reach out to the surrounding Thai communities.

"For the past five years, we have kept aside a small amount of money to donate to a Thai temple at the end of the Vegetarian Festival," added Boonchai.

"If we have some cash left over - which doesn't happen often since we usually have to spend every baht to maintain and renovate our own shrine - but if we ever do, we would give it to some charitable cause."

One of the big shrines up the river from Boonchai's organises collective funerals for people without relatives, similar to the Por Teck Tung and Ngi Teck Tung Associations in Bangkok.

In light of the present economic downturn, however, vegetarian shrines may have to look after their own welfare first.

Although some shrines attest that there are more visitors in search of spiritual solace, they seem to come with lighter pockets.

"There are more people coming in this year," noted the Talad Phlu disciple. "However, donations are less than before."

NEW GENERATION

Recognising that youngsters account for fewer and fewer visitors to the shrines, the old hands encourage those who do come to keep coming back.

"To make the youngsters who come with their parents feel a sense of worth, we train them to help at the shrine, like taking lit joss sticks from female worshippers to the pot. Then the following year, we ask them to be responsible for a more mature task," said Boonchai. "That way, they have something to do that fits their age."

Another small shrine, also in Ratchaburi, has set up a prayer chorus consisting of three girls and one boy, who are given the task of chanting auspicious Sutras to bring good luck to visitors.

After the last set of chanting in the evening, the chorus girls and boys and the rest of the children still there, play together, making up games about who is more devout and persevering. In one game, each child is dared to stand up and sit down rapidly in front of the altar 108 times.

Such activities and games bond the youngsters, not only to the shrines, but also to one another. Even after they grow up and move away, the bond can bring them together, to support one another, or it's hoped, to support the shrine.

"Although I don't keep in touch with kids I played with during my shrine visits as a child, when we meet again as adults, we usually share stories of what each of us has done over the year," recounted Wichian Tantikosum, a 24-year-old small entrepreneur from Pranburi who as a teenager first visited the shrine with his mother.

Such bonding, hopes Boonchai, will be essential in keeping Chinese vegetarian shrines alive.

"I just know that these people will come back. They may be busy with their lives, getting married, bringing up kids, but when the responsibilities lessen, they will return and bring their children along. It's a deep-rooted faith."