Penghu's Divine Banquet

Penghu at the end of April has sun, wind and rain. During the sea-tour activities of the fourth centenary celebrations of Tien Hou Temple, Matsu invites a host of deities on board ship and visits every one of Penghu's ports and offshore islands to give blessings and expel evil for the local people. As dusk falls, the boat reaches land and is surrounded by a crowd of believers. Matsu and her guests, weary from traveling the whole day, spend the first two evenings resting at Kuan Yin Pavilion and San Tai Tzu Mansion. With the gods playing host, banquets are held to wish Matsu a happy birthday.

A goddess with the body of a woman: Amidst the sound of firecrackers, the front of Kuan-yin Pavilion in Makung township is lit up by lanterns. There is a hasty greeting by the temple as the gods are invited inside to compose them selves, and the people to rest their weary feet. Apart from the offerings of devotees, some bowls of clean water and hay are laid out for the "veterans." A young monk, with the appearance of having not yet lost his innocence, burns incense and rings a bell as he chants and sends out the invisible heavenly steeds and warriors, rewarding them with supplies of water, wine, food and hay.

Inside the palace, the menu for the great feast is already on the wall. The colors, little delicacies, tea and wine are beautiful to behold and tastefully matched. On the table of the gods are arranged cups, plates and fragrant blossoms. The ceremonial attendants and musicians take their positions, donning extravagant ornaments and garbed in cheongsams. By this time the temple has already become clogged up with bystanding devotees, folk culture researchers and journalists.

The ceremonial attendants have always been drawn from middle-school boys in the past, because tradition holds it that females are "impure." Not only were women not allowed to go near the Buddha's gilded image, but they were not even allowed to touch his parasol or sedan chair. In this Matsu procession, however, the responsibilities were taken by females. The deputy manager of Tien Hou Temple, Hsiang Mao-sung, explains: "Firstly, this was because Matsu and Kuanyin are both goddesses, so it should be reasonable for women to take this responsibility. Secondly, housewives have a lot of time."

When the holy eat it is really divine: At 7.30pm, amidst the sound of gongs and drums, the meal begins. A herald first reads out a welcome to, "Respectfully request the divine host to descend and take their places." At the sign of the herald singing out their names, the attendants assist the 26 gods to their positions at the long tables. The first two rows are arranged at the front of the hall, then the guest divinities individually perform rites that express their feelings towards their hosts. Following this, a circuit official leads the guests to their positions where they are placed according to specially made chairs with embroidered covers. This calling out of names and seating takes until 8.30pm.

To the accompaniment of ancient rituals and music, the official in charge of rites sounds the order to "enter and don napkins," and the ceremonial attendants proceed to wrap the gods in napkins. The attendant looking after the god Hsuan Tien puts his napkin in place, then steps back and ponders whether she should put the god's whiskers inside or outside.

At last the toastmaster (a temple committee member and local elder) offers the first course--"the happiness, emoluments and longevity course"; another waiter then carries in the food. The surrounding people are even more curious than the eating gods, putting their heads together and discussing, "Is it fish fins or bird's nest?" "What, fish fins and bird's nest? Kuanyin is a vegetarian! It is fresh vegetables." When the food has been placed on the tables, after three or four minutes it is withdrawn again, just as with most rituals.

Although you cannot see the movement of chopsticks when the gods eat, worldly associations cannot be avoided. With each dish the waiter hurries to supply the gods with wine and raises his cup to make a toast. A plate of good food and a cup of wine--in this way four dishes go down to be replaced by a bowl of "eight treasures soup," small delicacies and tea. There is no more wine, but chrysanthemum tea is the substitute. People say that a smoke after eating makes one as happy as a god, which is perhaps the real significance of these delicacies and the packet of Long Life cigarettes on the table.

Worshipping whose body? Is the meal finished after just these four courses? It is not that simple of course. This is merely one round. A banquet must go through six such rounds before it can be considered complete.

Good wine goes deep, and the food and wine comes and goes until the fifth course, the main dish of vegetarian ingredients made up to look like roast suckling pig. The official in charge of roasting wields his knife, singing loud and clear with each cut: "One heart to protect the country, two for respect, three for a mountain of virtue. . . six for amiable compliance, eight for a festival of rejoicing."

There is no such thing as a free meal. When everyone is nearly full, apart from the host gods, the remainder express their gratitude through a representative from each temple who steps forward with a prepared gift for the assistants and workers who have been toiling so hard behind the scenes, including those who are letting off fireworks, in the kitchens or making tea. In a moment the solemn scene breaks and becomes more relaxed.

Only after six tea dishes are departures announced, and the attendants put the gods away. Now workers tidy up the surroundings and the attendants eat their own divine banquet in a side room. The dainties that have not been touched by the gods are all sacrificed to what the Chinese call "the temple of the five organs." Outside the temple the moon is bright, the stars are sparkling and the crowds have dispersed. In fifteen days, on the last night of the festivities, Matsu will again act as host to the gathered immortals.

Ancient ceremony and new rules: Penghu was developed earlier than Taiwan, but its temples still maintain the solidarity of the community and have completely preserved their ceremonies. In Penghu, the ancient ritual of inviting all comers to feast is carried out with the establishment of every new temple and on the birthdays of important gods. Apart from the wang-chuan boat ceremony, it is something that is hard to see in Taiwan itself.

"The banqueting ceremony preserves the past ritual of officials toasting their guests, and for researchers of ancient rites it is also a very valuable ceremony to consider," says Professor Li Feng-mao of Chengchi University, who has been entrusted to carry out research on these activities for Penghu's tourist industry.

Although the ceremony is an ancient ritual, this occasion of the Matsu banquet has also brought in some modern customs, such as the wrapping of the gods in napkins before they eat and the provision of damp paper towels after the meal, all of which are very well considered ideas.

Yet Li Feng-mao says that this is as undesirable as "drawing legs on a snake." In his view, "Ceremonies are a kind of symbolic activity. They are for the gods, but they are also the cup of belief for devotees. If they become too concrete their atmosphere of solemnity might be destroyed."

The banqueting ritual is also an expression of the relationships between the gods, and if you look carefully you can also see human relationships hidden there. According to Li Yu-chuan, head organizer of the Kuanyin Pavilion rituals, "Organizing the seating arrangements is the most brainsplitting work." The positioning does not only symbolize the hierarchy of the gods but also reflects the relationships between temples and even the intimacy between people.

Take as an example the seating on that day at Kuanyin Pavilion: the host, Matsu, sits in the center and at the head of the temple; Kuanyin sits on her left side but gives up her seat to San Tai Tzu, the god of Lung Te Temple which is holding the other day's activities; the fourth position is for Cheng Huang Yeh, who looks after the local community. There is no problem about this--who comes next, however, is wide open to debate.

Sit, please sit, please sit up: The gods of Penghu are basically arranged according to their greatness, but the feelings between guests must also be taken into account, as well as the age of their temples and the number of devotees.

Take the case of the Temple of the Heavenly Mother in Tainan's Tu Cheng, which once invited Tien Hou Temple to help it make a huge rice turtle, and Keelung's Puhua Ching Shan Hall, which is studying the Tien Hou Temple's banqueting ceremony. These two temples sent a musical troupe and a column of performers to take part in the event this time. Because of this, they were situated respectively at the head of the public and private temples. "With interaction, of course feelings run deep," says Hsiang Mao-sung. It is only with such painstaking attention to detail that the massed followers of the gods can be be satisfied.

The banqueting ceremony mobilizes all the residents oy the temple community, be they male or female, old or young, and direct participation gives them a strong feeling for their locality. Having guests from outside the temple is not only a kind of interaction between temples, but is also a toast between people. When the gods eat, the scene is grand, but the learning involved is also truly no small affair.

Sit, sit; eat, eat: You have to know how to arrange the seats.

Chopsticks, forks and napkins; the mixing of East and West presents difficulties for the gods--should whiskers be inside or out?

When dining at a friend's, you first pay your respects--the gods are no exception.