The Temple of Heaven

Nixon visiting Temple of Heaven

Before visiting the all-important Temple of Heaven, we took a trip to a train station to buy our ticket for the high speed train to Shanghai. All of China was queued to enter the grand station, putting their bags through x-ray. At length we found a ticket line for foreigners where we chatted with a few (confirming that Facebook and Google don't work in China and the National Holiday is absolutely the most insane time to come to Beijing) and then shouted back and forth with a barking ticket seller (they really do not want to deal with us foreign devils). Ticket in hand we entered the ring again with taxi drivers who refused to take us the relatively short distance for the standard price. We could see the other foreign devils entering the ring after us, arguing, trying to find a taxi that wouldn't rip them off. We finally got into a little aluminum box on wheels (filled with fumes) to take us to the Temple of Heaven for 30 yuan.

Dancing in the park

The Temple of Heaven seemed at first indistinguishable from the railway station: crowds, pollution, blaring music. Even in the enormous green park--273 hectares-- there are no quiet spaces or, as Jacques points out,  where there are, people avoid them. But the dancers in the park, on closer look, were quite elegant.

But down to business, we proceeded with our authoritarian audioguides (operated by GPS) to the temples, vast circles of bright ceramic tiles and blue green painted eaves. But between the droning commentary on the ritualistic details and the mechanical divine names of things and the shoving crowds (impossible to see interiors) I failed to find heaven.

The Temple of Heaven was built in 1420 for ritual sacrifices, where emperors of the Ming and Qing dynasties went to pray for bumper harvests and favorable rain. It comprises several ritual buildings, and a high altar, on which is inscribed: the masses should strictly follow the Emperor like a shadow. People struggled to touch that central stone, a huge crowd pressing into a small place.  One of the building complexes is the Abstinence Palace, where the Emperor prepared himself to perform rituals. Another complex, the Divine Music Office, was used for the rehearsal of ritual music for ceremonies during the Ming and Qing dynasties.

Perhaps a lingering sense of all the suffering animals bothered me---their pathway, beneath the stone pathway called the "road to heaven" was dubbed the "road to hell." It is a mark of this complex society that ritual sacrifices were being performed by Emperors through the 16th c (at least). 1500 years after Lucretius. In this highly sophisticated and technologically innovative society, harvests were assured by animal sacrifices and strict observance of ritual details. At the same time, the audioguide assured us we were looking at architectural masterpies, and pressed us to understand that Western scientists don't dispute the importance of Chinese technological advancements.

The people touching the central altar

The centralized and stratified worship of the ancients is in brusque contrasted with the dense crowds of shoving people who have come to honor them. The experience is one of cognitive dissonance with the elegant systems of the Tao. But Mao gave the country back to the people--while continuing the Mandarin state. Still, with all the intricate geometric and hierarchical calculations based on Taoism, one can see how Buddha's compassion became a welcome and politically charged message.

Perhaps in inverse proportion to the crowd factor, the beautiful Divine Music Administration and Halls of Abstinence had charm and character. We heard a concert of sometimes shrill sometimes entrancing harmonies ad rhythms. Walking through the highly polished wooden hallways of the Music Museum we could play with real instruments. Its history is moving: the Divine Music Administration had been deeply humiliated when the Imperial Powers turned it into an infectious disease hospital. People squatted on the grounds, and the Japanese tested biological weapons there (evidently on the Chinese).

The Halls of Abstinence were nearly empty, beautiful in the mist, and then we toured the gardens to see pavilions and blossoming roses, appreciating the subtle hidden corners of rock and tree. As we left, people were streaming into the gardens for evening exercise. They played the Chinese game of kicking the birdie, they jogged, they practiced tai chi. The park has 60,000 cypress trees, 3600 a hundred years or older.

We re-entered the transportation dilemma. At length a tiny motorized rickshaw agreed on a modest price, but when we arrived at the subway he threw a shrill tantrum so I gave him 50 yuan. He began to throw another tantrum for 100 yuan but we got on the subway, to travel another 2 hours home.