Daoist Identity Read online

  While presenting the confession ritual as a unique contribution of Daoism to Chinese culture, Tsuchiya shows that the penitents’ identities as persons are transformed into ones as Daoists as they come to see themselves first as sinners, then as entities inhabited by gods and demons. By gaining Daoist identities, their very bodies are transformed from physical mechanisms and networks of vital energy into power-houses of the Dao. They are healed because they become more one with the Dao, believing the Dao to pervade them and reside in them in the form of body divinities. The key to identity is their individual acceptance of a distinctive set of beliefs about the divine order of the Dao, activated further through commitment and ritual.

  Also focusing on the early movements, and specifically on their mortuary rituals, is Peter Nickerson’s chapter, “Opening the Way: Exorcism, Travel, and Soteriology in Early Daoist Mortuary Practice and

  Introduction

  13

  Its Antecedents.” The rites were established at the end of the Han dynasty on the basis of an already existing mortuary practice used in folk religious culture, while adding a Daoist soteriological dimension.

  Later-Han tomb contracts and “grave-securing writs” served to secure the release of the dead from the underworld ruled by the Yellow Monarch to eternal repose in the tomb. Nickerson demonstrates that Daoists grafted their own soteriology onto this burial practice and adapted the writs to a new use: aiding the spirits of the deceased on a journey (with origins in early Chinese shamanism) from the tomb into a better life in Heaven. As Mark Csikszentmihàlyi also argues in the following chapter, this provides clear evidence that the organized Daoist movements of the late Han dynasty did not emerge ex nihilo but had their origins in pre-existing social institutions and practices.

  Also, the belief in a heavenly source of retribution for sin evident in the daotan communities studied by Shiga and in the Taiping jing, as analyzed by Tsuchiya, can be seen again in the form of a heavenly judgment of the spirit of the deceased. Activating the belief in an all-powerful cosmic rule of the Dao, mortuary practices in the early movements reconfirmed the Daoists’ sense of order and belonging and reinforced their commitment to the religion.

  Moving away from the early movements and to the discussion of specific modes of identity formation, three contributors discuss the process of objectivation or the establishment of identity through belief systems, cosmology, and sacred texts. Csikszentmihàlyi’s chapter,

  “Traditional Taxonomies and Revealed Texts in the Han,” addresses the issue of Han antecedents of Daoism and its various religious institutions. Arguing that it is not reasonable to assume, as many scholars have, that Daoist institutions arose ex nihilo, he demonstrates the existence of earlier Han-dynasty social institutions that showed close parallels with those of the early Daoist communities.

  Of particular interest to him is the transmission of esoteric texts—

  associated with mantic practices, medicine, and self-cultivation, reasonably labeled as “Huang-Lao”—and their associated techniques in lines of masters and disciples that were outside officially sanctioned circles. Such committed master–disciple communities often centered on specific locations, “salons,” and there is considerable evidence that their social forms and the texts they transmitted played important roles in the origins of later Han Daoism. That these may have been overlooked, he argues, is due to a lack of clarity about earlier forms of textual taxonomies, such as the classifications of philosophers in several pre-Han sources and those provided by the Han historians in the Shiji

  14

  L. Kohn and H. D. Roth

  and Hanshu. Csikszentmihàlyi shows how each had a specific ideological purpose that often obscured the sociological bases of these thinkers and caused scholars to assume there were none. This, in turn, has prevented scholars from seeing the sociological and ideological background of the late-Han Daoist movements that he points out here.

  Next, Suzanne Cahill’s chapter, “Material Culture and the Dao,” describes a similar search for personal yet Daoist identity in the case of the Tang poetess Yu Xuanji (844–868), intellectual, courtesan, and Daoist nun. For her, the religion offered a haven of security after she suffered in the world of marriage and politics. She was ordained and formally established in the organization, yet her self-understanding came from her embracing of a key set of Daoist beliefs and a sense of divine order rather than from her official status or performance of rituals. Once removed from the society that had wounded her, she could vent her anger against it in an aggressive poetry, finding herself and her own true voice, while at the same time emphasizing the value of Daoist ideas as a venue for self-expression. This self-expression appeared in many symbolic images that revolved around three areas: textiles, which often symbolized her limitations as a woman; the boat, which often symbolized her freedom in wandering with the Dao; and the zither, which often symbolized her longing to find a true friend who could really understand her, “one who recognizes my sound.”

  Cahill finds in Yu Xuanji an extremely intelligent, well-read, and passionate woman who was unable to realize her deepest nature in conventional society because of the limiting roles it inflicted on women.

  Only through Daoist literature and practice was she able to put aside her bitter feelings over her lot and discover her freedom, expressed through imaginative wanderings and passionate poetry and in the tranquility of remote mountain hermitages.

  A different case of Daoist identity created through the objectivation of cosmological beliefs is that of the philosopher Wang Dao (1487–1547), a student of both Wang Yangming and Zhan Ruoshui, who forged his own unique synthesis of the harmony of the three teachings. As presented by Mabuchi Masaya in his chapter, “A Mid-Ming Reappraisal of the Laozi, ” Wang Dao took from the Laozi the message that to be truly moral beings, humans must look to the ultimate source of benevolence and rightness. It was not to be found in Wang Yangming’s “innate knowledge of the good,” which he felt was contaminated by selfish thought, but rather in the pure and tranquil substance of the mind, the Dao. Mabuchi finds that Wang Dao was more a literati,

  Introduction

  15

  or intellectual, than a practicing, or ordained, Daoist, who was not committed to a specific group following a set of ritual practices. Still, he found a Daoist identity for himself as a Ming-dynasty thinker, mediated entirely through the written word of the Laozi. The text provided him with a truth and a sense of order, more so than the more commonly preferred Confucian classics. The key to his thinking was the concept of the Dao and its expression in the ancient scripture, the way it was activated in the context of his particular lifetime and personal experience. Was he a Daoist? By his own definition, most certainly. And he did, in his own way, contribute to the later development and expansion of the Daoist tradition.

  Moving away from the more intellectual pursuit of divine order and toward emotional commitment in the formation of Daoist identity, three studies look at modern Daoist lineages in relation to local and popular cults. First, Edward Davis, in his “Arms and the Dao, 2: The Xu Brothers in Tea Country,” deals with the local temple cult of the Xu brothers that began in south China in the tenth century and later grew into a widely popular sect, investigating its historical origins, sociological role, and religious activities. The Xu brothers were worshiped in life as local heroes and in death as Daoist transcendents, and their ancestral cult was given imperial recognition by the Ming Yongle emperor, resulting in the inclusion of its text in the Daoist canon of 1445.

  Despite these obvious links with Daoism, Davis demonstrates that very few of the cult’s religious beliefs and cultural activities, centered in its main temple, Lingji gong, can be labeled “Daoist.” While cultic practices included spirit-writing and mediumism, they also involved a variety of local seasonal ceremonies, Buddhist-inspired rituals, and the promotion of a major local teaching academy. Taken together, these seem as much expressions of the social and political aims of local literati famili
es as forms of religious aspirations. Commitment to locality and lineage, as it were, was expressed through objectified beliefs and formal rituals, showing the close interconnection between religion and local culture.

  Mori Yuria, in his chapter on the Jinhua zongzhi (known in the West as The Secret of the Golden Flower), discusses problems of identity and lineage, showing how different redactions of the text were used for lineage construction and membership identification in the early and middle Qing dynasty. Identifying six distinct redactions of the text printed between 1775 and 1921, he concentrates his analysis on three of them, those by Shao Zhilin (1775), Jiang Yupu (1803), and Min Yide (1835).

  16

  L. Kohn and H. D. Roth

  He shows how each redactor, by textual editing and through the addition or deletion of prefaces, claims the text as an authentication of his or her lineage and his or her own membership in it.

  The principal reason for this lies in the putative origins of the text at a Daoist altar in Jiangsu province, where it was produced through spirit-writing that communicated the ideas of “Patriarch Lü.” It was originally produced in the Jingming (Pure Brightness) lineage of the Quanzhen (Complete Perfection) school, and its later redactors were able to remove it from its lineal origins and claim it as proof of their own by reworking the connection from Patriarch Lü directly to themselves and their lineage. Thus, though a Jingming text for Shao, the Jinhua zongzhi was used as a Tianxian (Heavenly Immortal) lineage text by Jiang and a Longmen (Dragon Gate) lineage text by Min. The case presents an illuminating example of commitment to a deity linked creatively with commitment to specific masters and lineages and the continuous overlap between the two.

  Shiga Ichiko, next, in her “Manifestations of Lüzu in Modern Guangdong and Hong Kong,” takes up the same issue in the context of the origins and development of daotan, or Daoist temple societies, in nineteenth- and twentieth-century south China. She shows that contrary to accepted scholarly opinion, daotan are genuinely lay movements that originated with the gentry but over the course of time spread to include people from all walks of life. Many maintain close ties with the official Quanzhen school, but they are not sanctioned or sponsored by it. They have been involved in a wide variety of social activities, from providing retreat facilities through charitable relief to the promulgation of morality books. Their focus of commitment is based on locality and the social and cultural ties already present, yet reinforced through the manifestation and communication of the deity. Yet again, Daoist identity appears in close interaction with cultural, local, and ethnic patterns.

  The last part of this volume concentrates on identity formation and reinforcement through ritual, focusing on the delimitation of boundaries vis-à-vis Buddhist and popular practices. First, Charles Orzech compares two similar rituals in his chapter, “Fang Yankou and Pudu.”

  The esoteric Buddhist fang yankou, or “release of the flaming souls,”

  is a form of saving the dead from the punishments of hell. It has, at first glance, many striking parallels with the Daoist pudu, or “rite of universal salvation,” in terms of material details, technical terminology, the use of “Brahma-language,” mantras, and mudras, and also in terms of the overall ritual structure and conception.

  Introduction

  17

  However, questioning the very notion of “syncretism,” and replacing it with the analytical tools of translation theory, Orzech demonstrates not that the two rituals are a combination of elements that should be separated as parts of two distinct systems, but rather that the Daoist rite can properly be understood as a “translation,” in which the multilayered South Asian metaphoric complex of the fang yankou is mapped onto a different multilayered East Asian metaphoric complex. As such, it represents, in Tony K. Stewart’s terms, an example of

  “metaphorical equivalence” rather than one of “syncretism.” In other words, the pudu does not represent an appropriation of the fang yankou but rather a translation of its ritual program into a distinctly Daoist performance based on its own cosmology and metaphors. Though boundaries are clearly established, the ritual, however Buddhist in appearance, emerges as ultimately Daoist.

  Mitamura Keiko reaches similar conclusions in her chapter, “Daoist Hand Signs and Buddhist Mudras,” in which she provides an inven-tory of Daoist hand signs and shows how they developed between the Tang and Ming dynasties. She then compares them to esoteric Buddhist mudras and examines their indigenous origins. She argues that there are two general types of signs, those developed in apparent imitation of Buddhist mudras and those that are uniquely Daoist, both used in rituals for protection from disasters, exorcising demons, and healing diseases.

  Mitamura traces the origins of Daoist hand signs to early shamanistic rituals continued in the practices of the fangshi and transmitted through them into Daoism. She shows evidence of their use in conjunction with incantations and talismans to ward off evil influences (recorded by Ge Hong) and shows possible evidence of their use in Lingbao texts and Tang works. Under the influence of esoteric Zhenyan Buddhism in the eighth century, Daoists combined the symbols and styles of Buddhist mudras with their own finger techniques. At first thoroughly imitating Buddhist terminology, they gradually translated it into their own distinctive cosmology and metaphors, yielding a more dynamic system of hand signs. Again, the ritual reinforces the specific Daoist sense of order and commitment, however apparently Buddhist it may appear.

  Another dimension of Daoist ritual uniqueness is the extensive use of written documents, discussed by Maruyama Hiroshi in his “Documents Used in Rituals of Merit in Taiwanese Daoism.” Concentrating on the “ritual of merit” of a modern successor of the pudu, as practiced in southern Taiwan, he analyzes three complementary sets of

  18

  L. Kohn and H. D. Roth

  texts collected locally. They present five sets of ritual documents, including, among others, the Announcement, the Writ of Pardon, and the Precious Litany to the Rulers of Darkness. Comparing these contemporary ritual presentations with Song-dynasty sources, Maruyama demonstrates a lineage continuity among some of them and points out certain patterns of historical development. He documents the remarkable continuity of rituals while also showing the impact of cultural and historical changes on their expression.

  The last chapter, Asano Haruji’s “Offerings in Daoist Ritual,” presents a comprehensive list of offerings used in both zhai (purification ceremonies) and jiao (sacrifical offerings). They include incense, flowers, candles, tea, wine, fruit, grain products, baked goods, writing utensils, and meat. Most are common to all Chinese traditions. The notable exception is writing utensils, which are not offered elsewhere but in Daoism symbolize the strong emphasis placed on written communication with the otherworld. The other unusual feature is the presence of meat offerings at Daoist rituals, which were proscribed in the early Daoist religion, partly because the pure Dao does not feed on blood, partly to distinguish Daoist rites from those of popular religion.

  Today, to accommodate folk religious beliefs and maintain a clientele among popular practitioners, meat is offered in rites directed to the Jade Emperor, to appease recently deceased souls and hungry ghosts, and at the specific request of the family that sponsors the ritual.

  Nonetheless, it is never placed in a central position in the ritual space but always set up on a side table. Although compromising with current popular culture and the practical demands of the people, Taiwanese Daoists yet maintain their boundaries and conserve the integrity and unique identity of their rituals.

  Notes

  1. Mol describes these elements variously in his writings. For objectivation, see Mol 1976, 202–215, and Mol 1983, 18–31; for commitment, see Mol 1976, 216–232, and Mol 1983, 32–47; for ritual, see Mol 1976, 233–245, and Mol 1983, 48–60; for myths, see Mol 1976, 246–261, and Mol 1983, 61–73. The elements also appear in case studies and theoretical evaluations by various scholars convened at a conference on the subject and published in Mol 1978.


  2. For a study of another segregated group in this context, see Shaffir 1978.

  3. For a documentation of the formalized cultivation practices of the early Daoists that are most commonly regarded as mere “thinkers,” see Roth 1999.

  4. A study of these patterns in the case of specific Daoists and lineages of the Yuan and Ming dynasties is found in Reiter 1988.

  Introduction

  19

  Bibliography

  Berger, Peter L., and Thomas Luckmann. 1967. The Social Construction of Reality. London: Penguin Press.

  Borras, Alphonse. 1994. “The Canonical Limits of Catholic Identity: Some Problematical Situations.” In Catholic Identity, ed. by James Provost and Knut Walf, 47–59. London: SMC Press.

  Erikson, Erik. 1960. “The Problem of Ego Identity.” In Identity and Anxiety, ed.

  by Maurice R. Stein, Arthur J. Vidich, and David M. White, 37–87. Glencoe, Ill.: Free Press.

  ———. 1964. Insight and Responsibility. New York: Norton.

  Greinacher, Norbert. 1994. “Catholic Identity in the Third Epoch of Church History.” In Catholic Identity, ed. by James Provost and Knut Walf, 3–14. London: SMC Press.

  Hardin, Bert L., and Guenter Kehrer. 1978. “Identity and Commitment.” In Identity and Religion, ed. by Hans Mol, 83–96. Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage Publications.

  James, William, 1890. Principles of Psychology. New York: Holt.

  King, Geoffrey. 1994. “Identity, Law, and Culture.” In Catholic Identity, ed. by James Provost and Knut Walf, 38–46. London: SMC Press.