Day 8: Living with Buddhist Monks

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You do it by simply putting one riverbed stone on top of another. I saw some that reached three feet or more, but I was only good enough to go half that distance. The idea is to think about your life as you build. Searching for stones, I saw dozens of other visitors doing the same thing. Temple programs have grown in popularity in Korea, re-energizing the faithful and combating an onslaught of Protestant evangelism. I asked about the number of monks here, and was told there were about 50. I did not see that many, but the nun said some were living in a special houses of denial and contemplation. They receive one meal a day through a small slot in a door of an isolated room, and it goes on for months.

While some thought it sounded extreme, it's important to remember that this is a concept that stretches across many faiths. Our dinner was simple, and we were instructed to start by taking a little. There is always more, said the monk, but it's important to not eat what we do not need. Our menu: seaweed soup, rice, marinated cabbage, sliced carrots and bean sprouts.

Afterwards, we washed our serving dishes by swirling fresh water in each of our four wooden bowls. The final act was to drink the remains, which was essentially our beverage for the evening. Outside, the monks were playing four instruments in prayer.

A large, multicolored drum represented all of the living things of the world with skin. A bell, struck with a log secured by overhead chains, is for those who are in hell and need our prayerful help. A wooden fish, hung from the ceiling, is in praise of all sea creatures. And a metal cloud, hit with drum sticks, symbolizes all that fly. As the evening concluded and the Buddhist Television Network cameras were turned off, we went back to our rooms.

But we sent one of our party on a clandestine mission: Find some fried chicken.

Our happy hour was short. We had an early morning wake-up call for worship.

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