That is, of course, luncheon at the monastery and temple of the Order of Buddha's Light Mountain. --- Where have you heard that term before? Would it help if I told you that the Chinese translation is Fo Guang Shan? --- Very good! That'll be five extra credit points for whoever remembered that this is the same order that has built the massive temple complex in the Los Angeles area. In terms of size, if I were to rate the Hsi Lai Temple in LA as large, this one would easily be double-X. It claims to be the largest Buddhist temple in Taiwan, and I wouldn't dispute it, though it must be a close call in competition with Chung Tai Chan and Dharma Drum.

Just to remind ourselves, this order was started in 1967 by Master Hsing Yun. Similar to Wei Chueh, the founder of the Chung Tai Temple, he stands in the direct succession of Chan Zen masters along the branch called Linji Chan, which in Japan eventually issued in Rinzai Zen.

The Buddhist professor whom I'm calling Wa-ta-wa in this blog (see the entry of Nov. 10) saw to it that we would be able to participate in the daily lunch at this monastery. This was supposed to be quite a ceremony, to which we looked forward. We were told ahead of time that it would be vegetarian, but that had been true for quite a few meals already, so that prospect didn't bother us at all. When we heard that we needed to receive instructions for lunch, I, for one, thought that such training should be unnecessary. I was wrong.

Our guide on this day was a nun who had been in the order for twenty-six years. Once again I need to confess to striking out on catching the name; my best reconstruction is "Ijir" or something similar-sounding. The first thing she did was to give us directions on how we were to eat lunch when the time came: to maintain complete silence, to finish any food once we had started it, to place the dishes into the correct positions on the table in front of us to indicate a) whether we were still eating of it, b) finished with it, or c)  wanted more, etc. She used a set of paper dishes that could be moved around various transparent pockets on an easel to give us visual illustrations. After she had finished the long and complicated set of instructions, she assured us with a twinkle in her eye that, if we made a mistake, we would surely be forgiven.

There was only about an hour or so left before the procedure would begin. Remember that one of the ten precpts of Buddhism holds that monks should not eat too much and not after noon; so, the meal would have to be over by that hour. We spent the time beforehand touring through a museum-like exhibition hall, most of which was given over to to exalting the spiritual qualities of the Venerable Hsing Yun. (I shall come back to that phenomenon of the person-cult in a future entry). When it got to be surprisingly close to noon, the monks, nuns, faculty and students of the adjoining university, and lay workers hired by the temple, filed into the huge dining hall. While we were watching, I casually asked Ijir, "This is the last meal of the day for you, right?"

To my surprise she answered, "No. We take dinner also. It is considered 'medicine': 'medicine' for hunger."

I said nothing, but my thoughts immediately turned to the several students over the years who, as a project for the Eastern Religions class, had attempted to follow the ten precepts for a week, and how hard it had been on them not to eat anything after luch. They didn't realize that a late night trip to Ivanhoe's (an ice cream restaurant in Upland, Indiana) could perhaps be construed as taking medicine. Let me assure you, though, that there are many Buddhist orders, particularly in the Theravada tradition, that do not make use of such an interpretation.

We visitors entered last. The room was divided into halves with the tables and chairs on each side facing the other. Each place had empty dishes in place already. There was complete silence until from nowhere there came the sound of a gong and someone chanting "AUM" just one time. It was so unexpected and loud, it almost startled me out of my seat. Then, as the deep silence resumed, a great number of food workers, reminding me somewhat of house-elves at Hogwart's, bustled around and provided everyone with their portions of the day's repast. I'm afraid, I cannot remember everything that they set before me. I can recall two items that looked like variations on the theme of boiled cabbage, chestnuts, something big, dark, and fungioid, chestnut soup, and a large dumpling wrapped in green leaves, but I'm sure I'm leaving out one or two other things.

Rice, of course, for one thing. How could I forget about the rice? It's a hungry person's life-line if everything else on the table looks like it needs a lot of explanation.

Now, the key for my decisions on what to try was the rule that if you start an item, you must finish it (though I had already decided that if something would turn out to be utterly impossible to get down, I would bank on the forgiveness that had been promised earlier).

• So, did I dig into the dumpling whose real identity was hidden by the leaves? Obviously not.
• Did I sample the fungioid-looking substance? I know that all things made by God are good and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with prayer and thanksgiving, but I have never been able to receive anything from the fungus group as food with thanksgiving. (Penicillin is a different story, assuming we're reverting to the traditional distinction between food and medicine.)
• I started and finished the cabbage-like entities and the chestnuts. To be honest, I like boiled cabbage.
• I had not yet finished the chestnut soup (and was wishing I didn't have to), when suddenly there was that gong and the "AUM" again; the meal was over; I was off the hook; and everyone filed out again, still maintaing the same silence. The whole procedure had lasted only about ten minutes.

Ijir had sat two seats down from me, and I assumed that I had been out of her line of sight, but apparently Buddhist nuns have x-ray vision, just as mothers do. When our little group reassembled, she came up to me and expressed her concern that I might not have eaten enough to keep up my strength. She may very well have been right, but I felt fine and told her so. Then the real tour of the temple premises began, and I shall tell you what I learned about meditation, calligraphy, and temple gift shops, and how I had the opportunity to share the gospel, the next time or two.

By the way, I have felt really awful since coming back from Michigan (though I'm sure Michigan is not to blame) Sunday evening. There was a change in medication, which apparently has taken me in the wrong direction. When I called Dr. B's office early this morning to be reminded of what time today my appointment would be, the office lady disclosed to me that it had been yesterday. I really dislike it when I do things like that, but I'm not sure I could have driven to the doctor's yesterday anyway. The lady was nice about it, but couldn't find another slot for me until February. Well, I'm scheduled for several appointments with other doctors before then, so I'm sure someone will put me back on the right track fairly soon. I will also mention that the stress caused by the precariousness of the material side of our lives is not helping. As always, June and I appreciate your prayers.