Clang! Bing! Bang! Bong! In the sixth lunar month, traditional music and theater troupes from across Taiwan make their festive way through an outdoor market in Lukang with "birthday noodles" and "birthday peaches," screeching away on their high-pitched suona (a traditional Chinese wind instrument) and beating on gongs and drums as they head toward Yuchu Temple, located in the middle of an old outdoor market. They come here to pay their respects to Marshal Tiandu, honored by many thespians in Taiwan as their patron god.

Suckled by a crab

Marshal Tiandu is typically portrayed as a youth wearing a scholar's cap and gown and sporting a pair of long braided queues hanging down from the back of his head. And oddly enough, his statues always have a crab painted over his mouth or on the forehead.

On Marshal Tiandu's birthday, worshippers lay out a table full of offerings, including cakes, vegetables, and various items that always come in pairs: chicken, goose, fish, and pork tripe. The big spread serves as a show of esteem for the Marshal. On either side of the main offering table are two long, narrow tables laid out with birthday noodles, red eggs, and birthday peaches donated by affiliated temples and individuals. The atmosphere at Yuchu Temple fairly crackles with excitement on Marshal Tiandu's birthday.

But the cornucopia never includes crab or duck. The former chairman of Yuchu Temple, Shih Chao-hsing, explains: "That's because Marshal Tiandu was abandoned as a infant, and he was just lucky that a big crab came and suckled him with a sort of foam, and a duck protected him under its wing. That's how he survived." Stage performers especially devoted to Marshal Tiandu will abstain their whole lives from crabmeat to show their gratitude to the crab for saving their patron god.

There are many variants on the legend of Marshal Tiandu, but the basic story is that he was born during the golden years of the Tang dynasty (618-907). His mother became pregnant with him after going into the fields to harvest rice. Because the boy was born out of wedlock, his mother had no choice but to abandon him in the fields. A crab and duck nursed the infant until he was adopted by a farmer, who named him Lei Haiqing.

Lei Haiqing acquired great musical skill as a boy growing up in the countryside, but throughout his childhood he never uttered a single word. He was eventually appointed by the Minghuang Emperor as a court official in charge of music. One night the emperor journeyed in a dream to the Moon Palace, where he came into possession of a most peculiar book. He brought it back to the court, but none of the civilian or military officials there could decipher it. Suddenly Lei Haiqing spoke the first words of his life: "It's a musical score." He taught the court musicians how to play from the score, and the music they made was the very same celestial music that the emperor had heard in the Moon Palace. The pleased emperor dubbed Lei "Great Scholar of the Stage." The empress, noting Lei's unusually delicate features, became worried that he might not live to old age, so she took a brush and wrote the Chinese characters for "eighty" (§K§Q) between his eyebrows to ensure longevity. But as soon as Lei rose to his feet, the two characters on his forehead became transposed to read "eighteen." And so Lei Haiqing died at the tender age of 18, still young and handsome. His fame rose thereafter to such heights that stage performers came to honor him as the patron god of theater.

Another legend draws a different connection between Marshal Tiandu and the stage. As the story goes, uncivilized hordes were making trouble on China's borders, and the Marshal was dispatched to deal with them, whereupon he invented the art of shadow puppetry (some versions say it was marionettes). The newfangled entertainment enthralled the barbarian troops, who were caught off guard and thoroughly routed.

No mention of Marshal Tiandu is found in any officially authorized history, but the 9th-century Tang official Zheng Chuhui wrote in Anecdotes from the Reign of the Minghuang Emperor that when the rebel leader An Lushan sacked the capital of Chang'an, he ordered the court musicians to play for him, but Lei Haiqing threw his instrument to the ground in refusal, for which he was executed. This seems the likely origin of the legend of Lei Haiqing as patron god of the theater.

Royal rooster, heavenly hound

Temples dedicated to Marshal Tiandu usually have statues of two military deities, one with the head of a rooster, the other with the head of a hound. Or in some cases the deities themselves are anthropomorphic, but wear caps adorned with rooster and hound figures. Yuchu Temple in Lukang features two giant parade figures representing the golden rooster and jade hound (so called not because they were made of gold or jade, but simply to denote that they are really special). They are the only pair of giant puppets in Taiwan that represent this particular duo. The two giant puppets made a special trip up from Lukang to take part in a parade in the big open square in front of the Presidential Palace to celebrate National Day in 1991.

Shih Chao-hsing explains: "The golden rooster and jade hound once saved the emperor's life." According to popular legend, the Minghuang Emperor beat a hasty retreat from the capital during the An Lushan Rebellion and during his flight became surrounded by a hostile barbarian army. Lei Haiqing, who had already passed away and become a celestial deity by that time, swooped in together with the golden rooster and jade hound to protect the emperor. Lei's battle flag was emblazoned with his name (πp), but clouds and fog obscured the top half of the character, leaving only the •- (tian) visible. The Minghuang Emperor was moved to dub Lei "Marshal Tiandu." This is the origin of the legend about Marshal Tiandu ascending to Heaven along with a rooster and a hound. Because the golden rooster and jade hound helped to save the emperor, the emperor designated them as lieutenants to Marshal Tiandu.

Actual written records concerning the patron gods of Chinese theater date from the Ming dynasty (1368-1644). After professional actors appeared on the scene and organized into actors' guilds, performers across China cast about among the figures of legend and settled upon this or that one as the patron god of their profession. But in such a big country, people in different places naturally chose different deities. In addition to Marshal Tiandu, stage performers have also worshipped the legendary Erlang (said to excel in both acting and singing), and the emperors Minghuang (of the Tang dynasty) and Zhuangzong (of the Later Tang dynasty), both excellent musicians. And there were more besides. Marshal Tiandu was widely revered in the provinces of Fujian and Guangdong, and has made his way to Taiwan, where Lord Xiqin also has a following.

In Taiwan, the type of music a troupe plays generally determines which of these two gods they will revere as their patron deity. Marshal Tiandu is the patron for most types of theater in Taiwan, including Taiwanese Opera, shadow puppet theater, marionette theater, Song Jiang martial arts troupes, puppet theater troupes that play nanguan music, and beiguan troupes of the xipi school. He was also the patron god for yidan (the Chinese counterpart to Japan's high-class geisha entertainers). One can see in old newspapers from the Japanese colonial period that yidan used to dress up as celestial goddesses on Marshal Tiandu's birthday as an expression of gratitude to their patron deity. Lord Xiqin is the patron god only for beiguan troupes of the fulu school, and for troupes that perform luantan theater (which always features beiguan music) or puppet theater where beiguan music is played.

No one knows for certain how Lord Xiqin came to be revered as a patron deity by some troupes in Taiwan, but Hsu Ya-hsiang, an associate professor of theater at Chinese Culture University, notes a strong tie between beiguan music and the Xiqin theater of Guangdong Province, and surmises that perhaps it became common parlance in Taiwan to speak of a "Lord Xiqin" in connection with beiguan music as a means of emphasizing the origins of the music, thus leading to the "canonization" of Lord Xiqin in Taiwan (and nowhere else) as a patron god of the theater.

According to legend, Lord Xiqin's skill with the pipa (a type of Chinese lute) prompted the Minghuang Emperor to appoint him as a court musician. On his way to the capital, Lord Xiqin was almost done in by a snake spirit, but a tiger saved his life. That is why the bearded statue of Lord Xiqin is always accompanied by a tiger.

Watching over the faithful

The encounter with the snake spirit has earned the snake the enduring enmity of all troupes that revere Lord Xiqin. This even applies to the Chou school (also known as the Wu-chou school) of pili-style puppet theater, which owns its own television channel and incorporates high-tech pizzazz into its performances. Huang Chiang-hua, third-generation master of the Chou school, says that his performers aren't supposed to use the word "snake" in daily conversation, but speak instead of a "slithering one" or a "rope." And not surprisingly, you'll never find The Tale of the White Snake in their repertoire. Performers believe that if they accidentally use the "s" word in conversation, something unfortunate will soon befall their troupe, and their performances are sure to go poorly. If they see a snake at a time when they are engaged for performances, they have to make an offering of incense right away.

Professor Hsu, who wrote a master's thesis on the worship of patron gods of theater, opines: "The worship of theater gods lends stability to a theatrical troupe." From the day one joins a theatrical troupe and swears an oath on bended knee before a statue of the patron deity, an intimate link to that deity is formed. A sincerely held faith provides a performer with spiritual sustenance, and the customs and prohibitions that come with the faith play a positive role in helping to reinforce the sanctity of the theatrical vocation.

Stage performers, who depend on the good graces of the patron deity for their daily rice, place statues of the deity in their homes, and back in the days when troupes traveled from town to town performing on outdoor stages, they would take a statue of their deity with them wherever they went. After arriving at a new venue and setting up the stage, they would place the statue backstage and offer it incense prior to each performance. Before a new performer took to the stage, the master would first have him drink a cup of tea that had been blessed by the patron deity; it was said that drinking this tea would keep the rookie from getting stage fright and pulling a major blooper. "This was not so much about showing respect to the deity as it was about getting the inexperienced performer into the right frame of mind," says Hsu.

There was once a deep divide between followers of Marshal Tiandu and Lord Xiqin. The relationship between them was intensely competitive, and each would badmouth the other's patron deity. In the northern coastal area running from Ilan County to Keelung and Juifang, in fact, there was once open warfare within the ranks of beiguan performers, with the Lord Xiqin-worshipping fulu school pitted against the Marshal Tiandu-worshipping xipi school. Members were often injured in fights, and mass melees would occasionally erupt, with both sides armed to the teeth. Ilan resident Lin Chueh-tai wrote in 1916: "A good 80 to 90 percent of the assault-and-battery cases handled by the Ilan prosecutor's office result from fights between the xipi and the fulu.... The authorities have tried to clamp down on all the violence stemming from competitions between the two types of theater, but it's so deeply rooted that not much can be done."

But as times changed and traditional Chinese theater declined in popularity, the followers of Marshal Tiandu and Lord Xiqin forgot their differences. In 1990, the puppet theater community of Taipei decided to hold a big festival in honor of both gods. There were ceremonies and celebrations dedicated especially to Marshal Tiandu and Lord Xiqin, and participants also paid their respects to performers of earlier generations. It was a big event, and they repeated it annually for several years. It is now discontinued, but in the meantime a new theater god association has appeared down south. Established five years ago, it counts over 120 members in central and southern Taiwan. The group's membership includes followers of each of the two patron deities, and all have been working together in harmony to organize theater workshops and establish a museum. They now have their sights set on eventually establishing a permanent activity center.

More than just a theater god

According to a study by Hsu Ya-hsiang, there are 13 temples dedicated to Marshal Tiandu and 11 to Lord Xiqin in Taiwan. Records indicate that in 1873 there was a temple in Taipei's Wanhua District dedicated to Lord Xiqin. The temple had been built with donations from performers, and it served as a big community center for them. Luantan and beiguan fulu troupes would often perform there, and the performers usually took lodgings in the temple, showing just how important a protective role the patron deity played. But traditional Chinese theater has lost its popular appeal, and the old temple in Wanhua District has long since disappeared. At the remaining temples dedicated to Marshal Tiandu and Lord Xiqin, the two deities have assumed new roles totally unrelated to theater; they are now seen by residents as protectors of the local community. The oldest of these temples is Yuchu Temple in Lukang.

Temple-goers in Lukang usually head for the famous Tienhou Temple; few realize that old Yuchu Temple in the outdoor market is dedicated to the patron god of theater, or that this patron god is also worshipped as the protector of the local populace.

According to the inscription on a stone tablet there, Yuchu Temple was built in 1736 as a sub-temple of another Yuchu Temple in Fujian Province. From the very start it was clearly dedicated not only to the theater, but also to the protection of women and children, for it says so right on a big inscribed couplet outside one of the doorways. The traveling theatrical troupes of an earlier time would usually stop in first at Yuchu Temple upon their arrival in Lukang, and they might invite Marshal Tiandu to their stage to chase away the evil spirits. Yuchu Temple likely qualifies as foremost among the temples in Taiwan dedicated to Marshal Tiandu.

Back when Lukang was a bustling seaport, Yuchu Temple had two different theaters, and one performance followed another all night long for three or four consecutive nights on both stages every time Marshal Tiandu's birthday rolled around. Old folks look back with nostalgia on the good old days. An old gent named Nien Ko laments: "To have strong theater troupes, you have to have a strong local economy." Unfortunately, Lukang has gone from big apple to backwater, and the theaters have fallen silent.

But that doesn't stop Marshal Tiandu from being worshipped by people in Lukang's Checheng district as the protector of mothers in labor. It is generally believed that the gods cannot go into the delivery room because it is defiled by blood, but the baby-faced Marshal Tiandu is not subject to this taboo. It used to be that pregnant women in the Checheng area would always make sure to invite Marshal Tiandu into the delivery room just before they gave birth. Shih Chao-hsing declares with emphasis: "There's never any problem as long as he's in that delivery room!"

In the open square out in front of Yuchu Temple, the faithful lay out a feast of a dozen or so tables on the evening of the 16th day of the 6th lunar month, and on the offering tables inside the temple are placed ten sets of wine cups, bowls, and chopsticks. On two long benches are ten stacks of spirit money, symbolizing that these places have been laid out for gods to come to the birthday celebration.

Amidst the banging and beating of the gongs and drums, a spirit medium begins the yan wang ritual (feasting of the gods) outside the main entrance to the temple. In this ritual, the spirit medium acts as the representative of Marshal Tiandu, throwing a feast for all the various gods that have come to wish the Marshal a happy birthday. One item at a time, the spirit medium calls for each of the offerings in the temple to be brought out, and the spread is every bit as mouthwatering as anything we mortals have ever indulged in.

The final act of the ritual is to set out basins and towels for the gods to wash their faces and hands. As one celestial course after another is brought out for the gods, believers sit at tables, chatting away and chowing down on a separate feast that has been prepared for the mortals. In years past, a theater troupe would have been performing up on stage at this point, but racy song-and-dance routines have since become the norm; scantily clad young girls prance about, and pole dancers rev up the crowd. Not exactly your granddaddy's old-time religion!

The fun continues until past 11 o'clock in the evening. After the sexy babes finish their performance, it's time to throw the divination blocks to determine who will be this year's "keeper of the incense burner" (i.e. the person in charge of the temple's religious ceremonies during the coming year). Selection of a new keeper is the last sacred act that this year's keeper will perform. Candidates for keeper all throw a pair of crescent-shaped divination blocks the same number of times. The blocks are rounded on one face and flat on the other; if they come to rest with one flat face up and one flat face down, it's called a "sacred throw." Whoever comes up with the most sacred throws becomes the next keeper.

As the candidates throw the divination blocks, the keeper calls out the results. The faithful gather around in excitement and anticipation, waiting to see who will be the next keeper of the incense. This year's keeper Li Cheng-chih says: "It's up to the gods to choose. You can have all the money in the world, but the position of keeper of the incense can't be bought." After the new keeper has been selected, a messenger bearing a giant joss stick heads off on a motor scooter for the home of the new keeper to deliver the good news and bring Marshal Tiandu's birthday party to a happy conclusion.

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Young Marshal Tiandu is easy to recognize with his scholar's cap, two long braids, and a crab painted over his mouth.

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Long-bearded Lord Xiqin is worshipped as a theater god only in Taiwan, by most beiguan theater troupes.

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Marshal Tiandu is always accompanied by a rooster and hound. Shown here are the only giant parade figures in Taiwan that represent the marshal's two trusty lieutenants.

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Before worshipping the temple's main deity, the faithful must first throw a feast for the celestial army, which includes laying out water plants on the ground for the celestial warhorses to eat.

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A table is laid out with all sorts of food and ten sets of eating utensils so that Marshal Tiandu can play the proper host to deities who come to wish him a long life. But the meat of crab and duck are never served, for their ancestors saved the marshal's life when he was abandoned as an infant. This is one of many ways the Chinese people demonstrate their strong emphasis on showing gratitude to one's benefactors.

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Marshal Tiandu is never more pleased than when the faithful hire a nanguan theater troupe to perform on his birthday.

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Traditional puppetry is gradually losing its popularity in modern Taiwan. Does Marshal Tiandu himself still care for it?

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Almost all traditional theater troupes have a statue of their patron deity that they worship. Hsu Wang-tien, head of Hsiao Hsi Yuan Puppet Theater, is shown here at home offering incense to a statue of Lord Xiqin.

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With traditional theater declining in popularity, sexy girls performing racy song-and-dance routines are becoming the main attraction at Marshal Tiandu's birthday parties.

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Traditional theater troupes and affiliated temples flock to old Yuchu Temple in Lukang to worship the god of theater on his birthday.

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The times being what they are, could it be that these daring young pole dancers are no less the followers of Marshal Tiandu than the more traditional stage performers?