Amid the noise of firecrackers, cymbals and horns, a team of believers moved through tens of thousands of onlookers as they hoisted a cloth-covered wooden statue of a gentle-faced woman atop a brightly decorated stretcher. I raised it.
As the carrier edged forward, hundreds of people lined up in front of it, kneeling in the road, waiting for the statue to pass overhead.
Some people cried after it was over. Many people smiled and took selfies. “I love Mazu, and Mazu loves me,” the crowd shouted.
Mazu, also known as the sea goddess, is the most widely worshiped of the dozens of folk deities that many people in Taiwan turn to for comfort, guidance, and good fortune. The annual large procession in her honor is noisy and extravagant. But for many, they are also deeply spiritual events, acts of faith that demonstrate that Mazu and other spirits continue to have a vibrant presence here, along with Buddhism and Christianity. there is.
Taiwan’s two major Mazu pilgrimages (called Baishatun and Dajia, after the temples from which pilgrims depart each year) have recently attracted record numbers of participants. And a significant number of them are young Taiwanese in their teens or 20s who are drawn to experiencing Mazu traditions, such as throwing crescent-shaped pieces of wood in rituals to divine one’s future.
“I didn’t expect so many young people to make this pilgrimage,” said Chow Chia-liang, 28, a fashion designer who came from Taipei, the capital of Taiwan, for the Dajia Pilgrimage, which begins in Taichung. Located on the Nishinaka coast. “People used to think that Mazu worship was for old people in the countryside. Look around here, that doesn’t seem to be the case.”
Like many other pilgrims, Mr. Chou paid his respects by pushing a cart carrying his own small statue of Mazu, which is housed at Taipei’s Mazu temple.
“This is a little different from my family’s religion,” he said. “Many Taiwanese people are very tolerant. They don’t have the idea that ‘this is my faith and that is your faith and they can’t act together.'”
Many Taiwanese say they are proud of their right to choose from a wide variety of faiths, especially in contrast to neighboring China’s strict restrictions on religion. Taiwan’s religious diversity and vitality form a kind of subsoil for the self-governing island’s identity and values.
About one-fifth of Taiwan’s 23 million people are Buddhist, another 5 percent are Christian, and more than half participate in Taoism and various related folk religions, such as Mazu worship. In fact, many people combine Buddhist and folk traditions to pray for a healthy birth or a high score on exams.
“Local religion has experienced a strong resurgence since the 1980s and 1990s,” said Ting Jianche, a religion researcher at Academia Sinica, Taiwan’s top research institution. “Previously, they were found more in villages, but now they are also widespread throughout middle-class society.”
The largest shrines to Mazu and other deities are powerful and wealthy institutions that generate revenue from donations and services, including memorializing the dead. During elections, candidates pay homage to Buddhist temples and Christian churches, keeping in mind the influence religious groups have on voters.
The Chinese government is also trying to exert influence.
For decades, the Chinese government, which claims Taiwan as lost territory, has appealed to the Taiwanese people by pointing to shared religious traditions, including Mazu. Mazu also has followers on China’s eastern coast, where stories say she was born in Fujian Province around 960 AD and that she used her special powers to save sailors from drowning.
Whatever the Chinese government’s efforts, many pilgrims say Mazu is a distinctly Taiwanese goddess who just happens to be born across the Strait. Others shrugged off politics and worried that the pilgrimage would be tainted by too much pageantry, including troupes of dancers and pop songs blaring from speakers.
“Many people like the effects of noise, sound, and light,” said Lin Ting-yi, 20, a professional spiritual medium who participated in the Mazu pilgrimage in March. However, he added, “Whenever I want to talk to God, I like to feel alone and quiet and pray.”
For generations, the pilgrimage was attended mainly by farmers and fishermen, who carried the Mazu statue through nearby rice fields and along dirt paths.
Pilgrimage now reflects a richer, more urbanized Taiwan. Mazu processions pass factories and highways, where chants and fireworks compete with the roar of passing trucks.
During the procession, the Mazu statue is known to have stopped at schools, military barracks and, in one year, an exhibition room at a car dealership, where the shipping company said its employees hurriedly removed the vehicle from the location. When they moved the Mazu statue, they said they wanted to take a rest there. .
Along the annual route, local temples, residents, shops, and businesses set up stalls and offer (mostly) free food and drinks (watermelon, tofu stew, cookies, sweet drinks, water, etc.) to pilgrims. Offers.
Despite the hustle and bustle, some pilgrims say that as they fall into a meditative walking rhythm, the noise of firecrackers and loudspeakers subsides, and they sometimes develop deep conversations and friendships with strangers walking next to them. There were also people.
“While walking, you give yourself more time and space to think deeply about things you never thought about before,” said a 40-year-old insurance company employee who was on the Dajia pilgrimage. , Hung Yufan said. 4th year.
While the nine-day Dajia Pilgrimage follows a preset route, the Baishatun Pilgrimage is more fluid. The exact route is not set in advance, and believers must intuitively judge which path the Mazu statue will turn and where it will stop.
When Mazu arrived at the crossroads this year, the atmosphere was tense as pilgrims waited as the image bearers shuffled this way and that, according to their accounts. It is said that they were waiting for Mazu to decide which direction she wanted to take. They cheered as Mazu departed again.
At night, the courier placed the statue of Mazu in the temple, and the more intrepid pilgrims slept in the temple or on the nearby streets. Roll out a thin rubber mattress.
As Taiwan industrialized, it seemed that such rituals might survive only as symbols of the island’s fading rustic roots.
“For a while, it was for the lower classes of society. Only a few hundred people would take part in the pilgrimage,” said religious researcher Professor Ting. “Although it is now popular, many new and younger participants only walk for a few days rather than the entire trip to experience Taiwanese culture.”
In recent years, media attention (Taiwanese television covers the pilgrimage like a major sporting event), online enthusiasts (you can track Mazu’s progress on the temple’s phone app), and ease of travel (by train) have increased the number of participants. The rapid increase in numbers is accelerating. fast and efficient).
The 2010 Baishatun Pilgrimage attracted approximately 5,000 registered participants. Some 180,000 pilgrims have registered this year, but this figure does not include the tens of thousands who joined unofficially along the way.
When the pilgrims arrived at Beigang Chaotian Temple in southern Taiwan, their main destination before returning home, Mazu was greeted by fireworks, gong explosions and an overwhelming crowd. According to organizers, nearly 500,000 people visited that day, breaking records.
Despite the heat and crowds, people squeezed into the temple and lined up for hours to catch a glimpse of Mazu, who wore an embroidered headdress covered in pearls.
“We couldn’t squeeze it into the temple,” said Chow, a clothing designer. He was able to walk parts of both major pilgrimages this year. “But that didn’t matter. This time I also invited my friends to get a taste of a more traditional culture.”
