uwyoabroad
聖天宮 — Xien Ten Gong and the Taiwanese Diaspora by Zachary Hunt
I'm in the middle of nowhere. The train station is a 30 minute hike away, if you walk fast. Looking back, I see skyscrapers in the far distance, seeming no taller than the nearby orange trees. I had just made the 30 mile bike ride from Tokyo to Middle of Nowhere, Saitama, Japan. Here, giant letters loomed before me: 聖天宮. In Japanese, it’s read as Seitenkyū. However, the Chinese reading is more appropriate here: Xien Ten Gong. The Holy Celestial Palace. I had arrived at Japan’s largest Daoist temple. Bluntly, it's shocking that this place exists, let alone in this strange, out-of-the-way location. To use a Wyoming analogy, it's akin to driving 30 miles east of Cheyenne on I-80, taking the exit at Burns, Wyoming (population 301), stopping to the Antelope Truck Stop to refuel, and discovering an authentic Sikh Indian restaurant inside. And yet, improbable as it is, both these places exist. To appreciate the long odds Daoism had to survive, it's necessary to briefly discuss Daoism history. In the mid-17th century, the Ming Dynasty fell. Chinese intellectuals in the 17th century partially laid the blame on Daoism. The government, in addition to reemphasizing Confucian teachings, actively rejected Daosim. Following centuries of religious persecution, only a single copy of the Daozang, the core Daoist religious canon, had survived. It was against this backdrop that the Cultural Revolution began in the 1960s, damaging and destroying many of the surviving temples and sites. The government forced many of the remaining Daoist clergy to disavow their religion, then sent them to labor camps. In short, recent Daoism history is one of struggle and strife, with few opportunities to spread. And now, here in Japan, a thousand miles from Daoism’s ancestral homeland, stands one of their largest temples in Asia, defiantly holding firm despite centuries of oppression. Now, when I think of my own struggles when studying abroad—trying to speak a foreign language I don’t fully understand, adjusting to cultural norms completely alien to my own, struggling to complete even the basic paperwork to move into my new home—I think of this temple. I consider that they faced the same kinds of struggles, but also life-or-death struggles that completely surpass what I face as a student studying abroad. They survived the centuries of persecution, a civil war, and relocation to multiple different countries. When I feel like my own spirit is flagging in the face of my challenges abroad, it reminds me of how strong the human spirit really is. It’s a reminder how much the human spirit can endure. And sometimes, I need that reminder. They built this temple against all odds. It’s a testament to their resilience, fortitude, and audacity. And it’s absolutely beautiful.
聖天宮 — Xien Ten Gong and the Taiwanese Diaspora by Zachary Hunt
I'm in the middle of nowhere. The train station is a 30 minute hike away, if you walk fast. Looking back, I see skyscrapers in the far distance, seeming no taller than the nearby orange trees. I had just made the 30 mile bike ride from Tokyo to Middle of Nowhere, Saitama, Japan. Here, giant letters loomed before me: 聖天宮. In Japanese, it’s read as Seitenkyū. However, the Chinese reading is more appropriate here: Xien Ten Gong. The Holy Celestial Palace. I had arrived at Japan’s largest Daoist temple. Bluntly, it's shocking that this place exists, let alone in this strange, out-of-the-way location. To use a Wyoming analogy, it's akin to driving 30 miles east of Cheyenne on I-80, taking the exit at Burns, Wyoming (population 301), stopping to the Antelope Truck Stop to refuel, and discovering an authentic Sikh Indian restaurant inside. And yet, improbable as it is, both these places exist. To appreciate the long odds Daoism had to survive, it's necessary to briefly discuss Daoism history. In the mid-17th century, the Ming Dynasty fell. Chinese intellectuals in the 17th century partially laid the blame on Daoism. The government, in addition to reemphasizing Confucian teachings, actively rejected Daosim. Following centuries of religious persecution, only a single copy of the Daozang, the core Daoist religious canon, had survived. It was against this backdrop that the Cultural Revolution began in the 1960s, damaging and destroying many of the surviving temples and sites. The government forced many of the remaining Daoist clergy to disavow their religion, then sent them to labor camps. In short, recent Daoism history is one of struggle and strife, with few opportunities to spread. And now, here in Japan, a thousand miles from Daoism’s ancestral homeland, stands one of their largest temples in Asia, defiantly holding firm despite centuries of oppression. Now, when I think of my own struggles when studying abroad—trying to speak a foreign language I don’t fully understand, adjusting to cultural norms completely alien to my own, struggling to complete even the basic paperwork to move into my new home—I think of this temple. I consider that they faced the same kinds of struggles, but also life-or-death struggles that completely surpass what I face as a student studying abroad. They survived the centuries of persecution, a civil war, and relocation to multiple different countries. When I feel like my own spirit is flagging in the face of my challenges abroad, it reminds me of how strong the human spirit really is. It’s a reminder how much the human spirit can endure. And sometimes, I need that reminder. They built this temple against all odds. It’s a testament to their resilience, fortitude, and audacity. And it’s absolutely beautiful.