The Little Buddhas Are Off to School

Abbot Chih-hao of Taipei's Tsukuang Temple brought a young novice with the Buddhist name of Yi-hsin (one-heart) to be interviewed on radio. When the show's host asked Yi-hsin, "Why did you want to become a monk?" he responded with great sincerity: "One becomes a monk to transcend the cycle of life and death." The call-in response was polarized. Many listeners were incredulous, doubting that a child this age could really understand the full implications of phrases like "leaving the mundane world of mankind" and "the cycle of life and death." They argued that adults ought not to encourage children to leave home. Yet many others held that children were better off learning Buddhist ways in a temple than being led into trouble out in a world beset with social ills.

Not age but spiritual fiber

During the Tang dynasty, the famous poet Li Shangyin heard Wuda lecture on the sutras when Wuda was only 13. Li was so impressed with the youngster, who would later become the highest ranking monk in China, that he wrote: "When a novice delivers a sermon and his elders listen, then wisdom must not derive from age but from spirit."

A Buddhist teaching thus describes four things that are small but powerful: "A crown prince can ascend the throne no matter how young. A snake can kill no matter how short. A spark can light the prairie ablaze no matter how tiny. And a monk can become a saint no matter how young."

Since ancient times there have always been some who have chosen to become monks as children, but as times have changed, so too have their reasons for doing so.

The Chungtai Zen temple in Puli has more than 50 young novice monks and nuns, more than any other monastery in Taiwan.

Shih Chien-lu, who is principal of the academy for youngsters at the monastery, explains that in accordance with laws set by Buddha himself, monks can range in age from seven to 120. As a result, the temple accepts monks and nuns from the age of seven. They live at the temple, and during the day they receive compulsory education. The academy's lower school corresponds to the six grades of regular elementary school, and its middle school corresponds to regular junior high school. Currently, there are more than 10 novice monks and nuns in the academy's lower school, and 17 in its middle school.

Benevolent roots

Why does someone become a monk or nun? "They've got to have benevolent roots," says the monastery's Abbot Wei-chueh. The kids have got to show willingness, and have the requisite ideals, confidence and spiritual fiber. To prevent disputes, the monastery only accepts children whose parents write letters of consent and who personally bring them to the school.

The abbot notes that the monastery used to be more passive about taking on novices. With the educational environment in Taiwan deteriorating, children have often been left to drift without any sense of focus or direction, and many Buddhist lay devotees who believe that studying the sutras is good for children started years ago to ask the monks to accept their children as novices. The monastery gradually took in more and more of these youngsters, until in 1994 it established an academy for novice monks and nuns, with the purpose of training its future leaders. The monastery provides everything for the novices free of charge, relieving their parents of all financial responsibility.

The Tsukuang Monastery in Taipei began accepting young novice monks and nuns more than a year ago. Yet, in contrast with Chungtai Temple, it aims not to cultivate its future leaders but rather to provide children with an education and ameliorate social ills, explains Abbot Chih-hao.

"The kids here who come from reform school have had a big impact on me," says the abbot, who gives classes in Buddhist doctrines at the school. One-third of its students are still in elementary school. "Some kids get released but then have nowhere to go," he notes. By taking them in as novice monks, the monastery is giving them space to grow. At first there were five or six kids who had individually been referred to him, and recently the number has risen to 13.

Li Hsu-neng, whose name as a monk is "Yi-kung" (the empty one), says he enjoys living at the Tsukuang Temple. When asked why, he responds, "When I go home, my father drinks alcohol and curses, and he forces me to eat meat."

Mostly from dysfunctional families, the children at the Tsukuang Temple feel more at home in the temple than with their parents. Most of the young novices at the Chungtai Zen monastery, on the other hand, come from the families of Buddhist devotees. As young children they went to monasteries with their parents and attended Buddhist courses and summer camps, and these experiences planted the seeds of Buddhism in their hearts.

"Some children become monks because of the good deeds they did in their last life," affirms Abbot Wei-chueh.

Shih Chien-fu, who is now in the sixth grade, first came in contact with Buddhism when he was five. Every week, even during typhoons, he would get up early, put on his clothes and wait for his father to take him to the monastery.

Shih Chien-lu, principal of the academy for the novice monks, recalls that when Chien-fu's dad came to visit, the boy at first refused to see him, saying that he was a monk now. Shih Chien-jung, the elder monk responsible for guiding Chien-fu, had to intervene before he would consent to meet his father. (Shih, by the way, is a surname the Chungtai temple gives its monks.)

A devout family

After attending the "Little Star Summer Camp" in 1994, Shih Chien-kuang felt as if his heart and soul had been cleansed, so he told his parents that he wanted to try out life as a monk.

Five years have passed since he became a monk in third grade. Remarkably, his three brothers and sisters have become monks or nuns as well. Their parents now serve as lay support staff and plan to take their own vows when the Little Chungtai Monastery is finished.

Shih Chien-kuang's performance has earned praise from the monk responsible for the young novices. Shih Chien-lu says that Shih Chien-kuang, despite his youth, can deliver sermons in public, is generous and natural, and has a commanding presence.

"Where we live there is constant Buddhist chanting, so that even from far off one feels calm and merciful." This is how Shih Chien-jang, who is now in junior high, describes his home at the Chungtai Zen Monastery.

While it may be that the young novices themselves seem happy with their lives, many people hold that they are too young to have a true understanding of even their own minds and are at a time of life when they need their parents' care most. These critics regard the parents' decision to let them live at a monastery as irresponsible. An even more relevant question is this: How can a monastery serve as a family?

"People are even better provided for here than with their original families," says Abbot Wei-chueh, who points out that the monastery is indeed like one big family where there is no need to have fears about birth, old age, sickness, death, clothing, food, shelter and transportation. "Only by dwelling in Buddhism does one find a true home," says the old monk.

Cut off from parental love

Most of the parents of the young monks at the Chungtai Zen Monastery supported-or even encouraged-their children's decision to don their robes and shave their heads. But a few parents, whose children made the decision quite suddenly after participating at some Buddhist activity, have found it difficult to let go.

A Mrs. Mou, whose son became a novice at Chungtai last August, moved from Taipei to Puli at the end of last year.

Mrs. Mou explains that she and her son had long had conflicts and communication problems. To improve their relationship she brought him to a Zen cultivation class. She never expected that Buddhism would have such a pull on her son, and that when he arrived at the Chungtai Monastery everything would feel very familiar to him, as if he were coming home. He decided on his own to become a vegetarian and his attitude improved greatly.

Yet, as soon as her child joined the monastery, Mrs. Mou found her own state of mind taking a turn for the worse: "I felt that when he became everyone's I had lost him, and I couldn't stop from dwelling on it." Mrs. Mou returned to Taipei and mulled it over for two months before adopting a more positive outlook and once again returning to Puli. "Outsiders may think that it's cruel to leave a child at a Zen monastery," acknowledges Mrs. Mou, who says that her change of heart is impossible to explain. "But I truly feel that even I myself have gained a goal and direction in life."

"Someone becomes a monk or nun as a reward for good deeds in past lives," explains Chiu Pi-ling, associate editor-in-chief at The Great News, whose son Shih Chien-wei became a novice at Chungtai three-and-a-half years ago. There's no point in just passing some mediocre existence in society, she argues. "As long as it's what my child wants, I'm willing to let him try out a different sort of life."

Different youth

Many people wonder what life is like for the young novice monks and nuns. What kind of rules and prohibitions do they have to abide by? At 5:15, a.m. when most people are still fast asleep, the novices at the Chungtai Zen Monastery have already awoken and made their beds. At 5:30 they go for early prayers, and at 6:00 they have breakfast and tidy up. After 7:00 the bus comes to take them to school. At noon the temple sends vegetarian meals to the school. After they've come home, at about 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon, they change and wash and start practicing their Chinese characters by themselves. At 5:30 they have dinner, at 6:30 evening prayers, at 7:00 they do their homework and memorize sutras, and at 9:00 they have a snack and tidy up again. With what remains of the day, they meditate and sleep. The lives of these novices are so simple and regular that there's really nothing interesting to say about them.

But the children don't complain. "I had originally thought that a monk's life would be a hard one, but now that I've become one, I've discovered that it isn't so tough," says Yi Chien-fu, who became a novice when he was just seven. He was surprised to find that not only was there no bucket-lugging and wood-chopping, but that even their laundry was done for them.

The young novices are no different than their elders when it comes to obeying the Buddhist laws and prohibitions. All monks must observe these rules. The prohibitions, ten altogether, include those against taking any form of life; stealing; having sex; lying or speaking rashly; drinking alcohol; wearing flowers or ornamentation on their clothing or in their hair; using perfume, makeup or nail polish; singing, dancing, or patronizing prostitutes or dancing girls; sleeping in high, large or wide beds; eating between meals; and desiring money or valuables.

Shih Chien-huo, who is in second grade, says that he hasn't been able, strictly speaking, to observe perfectly the ten prohibitions. In particular, he finds it hard to comply with the prohibition against speaking rashly. As soon as he lets down his guard, something untoward slips out of his mouth.

Ancient monks are their idols

"Not taking life," sounds easy, but does in fact pose quite a test for the young novices. Many of them can describe being overcome by a desire to kill when mosquitoes bite them in the summer.

"It's hard to prevent these urges, but you've got to turn around and repent," says Yi Chien-kuang. Just by looking at his clothes and rubbing his scalp, a novice can remind himself that he is different from other people.

"At first, I missed eating at McDonald's, but after seeing the video Screams of Life I lost my appetite for flesh," says novice Chien Ang. In school he urges his classmates not to eat meat. "But the Buddhist laws don't apply to them, so I don't push it too hard."

Besides the 10 prohibitions, there are also the 24 dignities of demeanor. Whether walking, standing, sitting or lying down, whether talking or silent, moving or still, monks should acquit themselves with dignity.

Children, of course, will be children, and even if they are monks, at times they will create a ruckus. "Some people say that these kids haven't a shred of dignity," says the monk Chih-hao, "but they are children after all, and to expect them to observe the rules at every moment would be cruel." As a result, the instructors at the monastery school try to calm the children down by putting stress on prayer memorization, meditation, and the copying of Chinese characters.

"From their calligraphy, you can see a child's psychological changes," says Shih Chien-lu, the principal of the monastery's academy for novices. When the teachers see that a child's writing is messy, then they know that he is unsettled and that they need to show a little more understanding and concern.

The young novices' lives are not entirely lacking in spice. Zen landscape architecture, tales of virtuous magistrates, and story-telling are all subjects that the young monks particularly enjoy. During summer vacation Chih-hao takes the Tsukuang novices to Penghu, where they both have fun and learn Buddhist doctrines. The kids always enjoy the trip.

Off to school

What's more, the novices have their heroes too-not movie stars or politicians, but rather legendary monks. Shih Chien-lu says that young novices look up to Dizangwang Pusa for his statements that bear witness to his devotion to duty: "You can't become a Buddha unless you've converted everyone," and "If a single person remains in hell, then you can't become a Buddha yourself."

There are some moments when the prohibitions interfere with life at regular school. Abbot Chih-hao recalls that once at the elementary school he saw a novice standing outside a classroom. He assumed that the child must have done something wrong and been sent outside as punishment. Yet when Chih-hao walked over, the novice said, "Master, they're killing living things inside." It turned out that they were dissecting animals for a lesson in anatomy. So as not to break his monk's vows, the boy had left.

Chih-hao says that he completely respects the right of the school authorities to set the curriculum and has never tried to interfere.

So that the novices won't have problems fitting in, Chih-hao lets them change out of their cassocks when they go to regular school. Yet, with their gleaming pates, there is no mistaking them. After school, when the novices line up to take the bus back to the monastery, other children sometimes gather around and make fun, shouting something like, "A monk is the last thing I want to be!" But the novices get used to this sort of thing, and these comments go in one ear and come out the other.

The young novices at the Chungtai Zen Monastery, on the other hand, wear their long robes and luohan socks and slippers, even during gym class.

After consultation between the monastery and the school authorities, the young monks have been exempted from parts of the curriculum, including dissecting animals (which would break their vows against killing), running long distances, and swimming (which would require them to wear bathing suits). None of the novices take part in these activities.

While the school has had to make adjustments to meet the needs of the young monks, Principal Chiang Hsu-kang holds that these changes are necessary: "If the school weren't tolerant and flexible and denied the young monks a chance to study here, then it would be unfair to the monks."

"The school is in fact being enriched by them," says Principal Chiang. Abbot Wei-chueh is very concerned about education, and the temple has made contributions of time and materials to the school, helping to paint the walls and providing equipment for the school's audio-visual lab.

Principal Chiang points out that the monks who teach at the monastery's academy have always maintained close ties to the school, serving as volunteers. They show even more concern than regular faculty. "Parents don't care for children as well as these monks do for their novices. They're really quite remarkable!"

Does school conflict with Buddhism?

Liao Chih-chin, a teacher at Shuiwei Elementary School, notes that generally speaking the young novices are good students, but in most ways behave much like other children. "Nevertheless," she notes, "comparatively speaking, the young novices are better able to concentrate."

Shih Chien-fu, who is now in the sixth grade, sometimes doesn't want to go to school. His reason: "There a lot of girls at school. What a pain! . . . And everybody eats meat. It stinks!" Liao Chih-chin, who teaches at the elementary school, teases him about being so square: "He's already an old fogy!" But a teacher at the Chungtai Monastery's academy says, "For someone trying to observe the Buddhist laws, his attitude is a good one!"

There is a big difference between the schools' and monasteries' approach to education. Shih Chien-lu points out that society's values color the education at elementary school, which to some degree conveys the allure of wealth and physical beauty. Buddhism on the other hand, stresses inner cultivation and transcendence, so that one can leave the cycle of suffering that is life and death and become a Buddha. They are fundamentally quite different, and it is hard to prevent young novices at regular school from absorbing society's influences. During summer and winter vacations, when the children are away from school, they are steadier and more focused in their pursuit of inner cultivation.

While the old monks acknowledge that it is necessary for the young monks and nuns to go to school, Principal Chiang of the Shuiwei School goes further, arguing that novices have not settled on their paths in life and that some may well want to return to secular life. With a complete citizen's education and basic knowledge, they will have the ability to return to secular life if they so choose: "Their activities in school can make up for experiences missing from monastery life."

In fact, only one-fourth of the monastery's novices who graduate from junior high school elect to stay at the monastery for the upper school of its academy. The other three-fourths choose to take the joint entrance exam for high schools. Their Buddhist teachers allow them to retain their names as monks to leave the door open to their return, but these defections no doubt influence elder monks' willingness to accept young novices.

"A child deciding to become a monk or nun is no easy matter," says Abbot Wei-chueh. Children are like blank slates and can easily be tarnished if exposed to filth. It is best that they wait until they have graduated from junior high, he argues. If they're not wild, and their hearts and minds are pure, they can then talk about joining a monastery.

Planting the roots and reaping the fruit

Shih Chien-wei was at the monastery for three and a half years before recently deciding to leave and take the exams for high school this spring. As for whether he will return to monastery life in the future, his mother, The Great News associate editor-in-chief Chiu Pi-ling, says that they will have to leave that up to fate. "Even if my child doesn't want to be a monk again, he has at least experienced a monk's purity for three-and-a-half years."

Shih Chien-yun, assistant abbot for boys at the Chungtai Zen Monastery academy, notes, "When even adult monks can waver about their chosen path, how can we expect children not to?"

"The greater the expectation, the greater the disappointment," says Abbot Chih-hao. Since one can't make decisions for a child for the rest of his life, he suggests adopting a more indulgent attitude. While the novices may not end up as monks, Chih-hao believes that by teaching them he and his fellow monks can at least plant seeds of mercy and roots of benevolence in their hearts. With an understanding of Buddhist teaching and the chain of cause and effect, the children won't be a public menace.

Lin Ku-fang, a professor at Nanhua Management College, believes that coming in contact with Buddhism is a rare opportunity for children, but he reminds both the Buddhist community and parents that they shouldn't try to steer them too much, because individuals have to make their own decisions in life.

p.97

Can a monk become a saint no matter how young? Having left the mundane world at so tender an age to abide by the Buddha's laws and a monk's prohibitions, these youngsters know how to sit still and carry themselves with dignity, but what are they thinking inside? How have they gone about seeing through the "grime and glitter" of secular life?

p.98

Only by shaving their heads about once every two weeks can novice monks maintain their pates' gleam. On Sunday afternoon the monk Chih-hao shaves the young novices himself.

p.99

In the eyes of Abbot Wei-chueh, the purpose of the monastery's academy for novices is to cultivate its future leaders. Yet because the youngsters are still uncertain of their direction in life, many abandon their training halfway through and return to the secular world.

p.100

It may or may not be a result of their Buddhist training, but novice monks do appear to be much more at peace than other children the same age.

p.101

The novices at the Tsukuang Monastery attend the Wanfang elementary school. When school lets out, they wait at the gate to the school for their master to pick them up. If he is busy, they walk back to the monastery by themselves in a single file.

p.102

Is a monk's life too boring for a young child? Besides reading and observing the various prohibitions, the youngsters are also assigned chores, such as sweeping the grounds or lighting the oil lamps.

p.102

"Sweep the ground, sweep the ground, sweep the mind. Sweeping the ground without sweeping the mind is sweeping for naught." Sweeping fallen leaves in the early morning thus becomes an exercise to train the mind.

p.103

The monks of Shaolin and the Taoist priests of Wudang have illustrious martial arts traditions. Here the novices of the Chungtai Monastery practice a little qigong with Master Chien-lu.

p.105

Students in cassocks are a special feature of the Shuiwei Elementary School in Puli. In the photograph of last year's graduating class, half are novice monks and nuns. (rephotographed by Vincent Chang)