Imagine, if you will, a weary monk pausing atop the dike of the Duong River. Shading his eyes he looks to the West, across the flood plain. It has taken him three long days to walk from Hanoi, chanting mantras and brushing away mosquitos with an ornate fan. But then yesterday…yesterday he had startled a water buffalo. Angrily it had chased him lickety – split through several rice paddies and across a fetid drainage ditch. By the time he regained dry land he he had lost his sandals! “This would make even the Buddha angry!” he exclaimed. Now, a day later, his dusty footprints left traces of blood. Never Mind. He could see Chua But Thap through the palm trees, scarcely a Li away.
Taking his monk staff in hand, he descended the dike. A little dog ran ahead of him, and he followed through cabbage patches and vegetable gardens until he stood before the Three Entrance Gate. Sighing, he dropped his pack and squatted, tiredly holding his head in his hands.
A buffalo cart pulled up beside him. A nun of great virtue, impeccably dressed in formal robes, stepped down and carefully paid the driver a copper from her purse. But before she could turn the the monk jumped up, grabbed his pack and rudely pushed by. “Master Chuyet Chuyet,” he muttered, “I must see Master Chuyet Chuyet!” The nun smiled sadly.
The monk hurried through the The Entrance Gate and the Drum Tower. Turning to avoid the forecourt and the shrine itself he began searching the perimeter gallery.
The nun entered the pagoda at a more considered pace. She remembered in the sutra where it says: “The bodhisattvas always speak gently. Standing, walking, lying down, sitting. They are fully conscious of what they are doing.” She stepped over the threshold of the Lower Hall, the tien duong, and bowed to the two towering gate keeper gods.
Then the nun stepped through the connecting Hall of Censers into the main shrine room- The Hall of the Main Altars. She lit incense and performed a slow 108 prostrations before gracefully rearranging her grey robes.
Buddhism came to Vietnam in the late 1st millennium, CE. Theravadan missionaries crept north from Cham, today’s Cambodia, while Zen monks walked the steep paths of the Red River valley into North Vietnam. In the process, Zen Buddhism become the Vietnamese Tien. Then the Vietnamese changed Zen Buddhism even more, by adding the Pure Land teachings of Buddha Amitabha to Tien meditation.
After searching through the perimeter gallery the monk located Chuyet’s orange-robed personal attendant quietly slipping out a louvered door. “I must speak with Master Chuyet Chuyet! It’s a matter of heaven and earth!” “Really?,” asked the attendant. “Yes, my life depends on it!”. “Ah”, said the attendant, “The master is ill today. It would be better if you came back tomorrow.” “No, I wont!,” the monk exclaimed, stamping his foot. But the attendant gently took the monk’s arm. “Let me show you to your room.!”
Sometime in the late 13th century Huyen Quang, the third patriarch of the Bamboo Grove Tien lineage and abbot at Wat But Thap, purposely built the Hall of the Nine Degrees Mountain as the shrine of an enormous three-story high prayer wheel. To access the shrine the nun walked over an ornamented stone bridge and stepped over the low sill. Inside, large Buddha Amitabha statues flanked the prayer wheel. It is said that one turning of the wheel liberates 3, 542, 400 Amitabha mantras, “Namo, A Di Da Phat,” or, “I pay homage to the Buddha of Boundless Light!”
Without further ado the nun got to work. The wheel is very heavy, and currently it doesn’t turn at all. But in the nun’s day it turned easily. Once it was started it slowly trundled along, squeeking softly.
Sometimes the nun would walk beside it, holding the handles. Otherwise she would push it as it rotated past. The day was very hot, and the sound of the wheel, the muted squeeking of the oiled base, along with her whispered evocation of the mantra, lulled her into a hypnagogic state. Her concepts dissolved and she gazed upon the face of Great Emptiness.
Almost all Tran era wooden pagodas display a similar building style. Even the relatively recent reconstruction of the Imperial Academy at the Temple of Literature in Hanoi, for example, bear a similar open Post and Beam construction. In the Hall of the Nine Degrees Mountain wooden columns sit atop lotus shaped stone pedestals. Wooden columns then support the primary truss. In the photograph above, the primary truss runs directly above the Buddha’s head. The bearing piles are stacked atop the primary truss, supporting the roof.
Just as most pagodas were built on the same pattern the routine of daily life in monasteries likewise followed a similar repetitive round. Monasteries are built on routine. The nun’s routine was simple. A famous Zen dictum from China said, “No work, no food!” The nun took this to heart. Every morning she rose at dawn and dressed in a faded brown work shirt and trousers. Tying the strings from a sweat-stained non la hat under her chin she headed for the garden.
The nun worked in the garden until the heat of the day grew oppressive. She loaded her harvest – broccoli and cabbage – into a bamboo basket and carried it into the kitchen. There she helped the lay cooks prepare lunch. After eating she returned to her frugal cell. While the other monks dozed in the heat of the day she sat cross-legged in meditation, chanting the name of Buddha Amitabha while trying to maintain Tien meditation. It was difficult. The heat was stifling and she wanted to sleep. Taking three deep breaths she raised her eyes and practiced “wall gazing”. Eventually the mantra died away and the world opened up before her.
Some weeks later the nun rose to attend her tasks in the garden. The monk rushed past. He had failed to arrange an audience with Master Chuyet and so he was traveling to yet another monastery. The nun watched him go
In the garden the nun fell to her knees to remove a cabbage caterpillar from a leaf. Carefully she carried it out of the garden. When she returned she noticed Master Chuyet Chuyet, supported by his attendant, laboriously walking towards her. Standing, she took off her conical hat and wiped her brow. “This is the nun of which I spoke,” said the attendant. “I see,” said Master Chuyet Chuyet. He gently lifted her face so he could see into her eyes. “And what have you learned, my child?” he asked. “Nothing!” she exclaimed! “I haven’t learned anything at all!” “Good, good,” he replied. He placed a dry and feverish hand on her shaven head. “Your mind and mine are one!” The Master and his attendant moved off through the garden. The nun watched them go for some time, then she returned to her hoeing.
Master Chuyet Chuyet died in 1644. In 1647 his successor built the Bao Nghiem Stupa, a Chinese influenced five story pagoda, to commemorate Master Chuyet Chuyet.
When Emperor Tu Doc visited the Bao Nghiem Stupa in 1876 he famously said ‘it looks like the top of a pen’ or ‘But Thap’. Wat But Thap, (or Chua But Thap in Vietnamese), has been the name ever since.
Today, there are few monks at Wat But Thap. The monastery has been turned into a museum. When we visited it was early morning and no one was about. So we circled the shrine, the Hall of the Main Alters, and admired the carving on the balustrade. There still wasn’t anyone about, so after shouting repeatedly we climbed through the high sill into the Shrine Room itself. We found the light switch and turned on the lights! Amazing!
On the Main Altar, behind the ever present name of Buddha Amitabha is a Quan Yin statue, flanked by her two attendants. On the rear altar are three Buddhas representing the three buddha qualities and against the rear of the shrine are the Buddhas of the past, the present, and the future: Buddha Amitabha, Buddha Shakyamuni, and Buddha Maitreya.
Surrounding the main alter are a plethora of wooden, stone and plaster statues.
What many visitor come to see however is considered a national treasure of Vietnam; the thousand arm Avolekitshavara statue. According to legend, Avalekiteshvara vowed not to attain final Nirvana until all other beings were saved before him. After striving for countless eons he considered himself done. But when he looked behind himself there were even more beings than before! In frustration and horror he exploded! The Buddha, in his infinite wisdom, reassembled Avalekiteshvara but with even more heads – eleven, to see more beings, and even more arms, 1,000 to help more beings.
Like the nun, my partner and I lit incense and prostrated before the thousand armed Avalokiteshavra. Outside the main shrine, tourists were starting to arrive. Not foreigners, but local people. Like us they come to appreciate the beauty of Wat But Thap, and to hopefully to see what the nun saw when she looked upon the face Great Emptiness.
I would like to thank orentialarchitecture.com for the use of their delightful schematic of Wat But Thap.