His Holiness Expresses Sadness over Ferry Sinking in South Korea

Teaching Buddhism in the Morning, Secular Ethics in the Afternoon
May 12th 2014
Rotterdam, Holland, 11 May 2014 - His Holiness the Dalai Lama’s second day in Rotterdam began with rain beating against the windows. Before leaving for the Ahoy Stadium he gave three interviews: the first to Floris Harm van Luyn of NOS National News, who asked him about his meeting yesterday with the Dutch Foreign Minister.

His Holiness the Dalai Lama Travels from Oslo to Rotterdam
May 11th 2014

His Holiness the Dalai Lama Visits Norwegian Parliament and Nobel Peace Centre
May 10th 2014

Mind Training & Taking Responsibility for Tomorrow’s World
May 9th 2014

His Holiness the Dalai Lama Arrives in Oslo to Warm Public Welcome
May 8th 2014

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Mayor to seek return of Buddhist statue in South Korea

In an interview Wednesday, Yasunari Takarabe said he will submit a petition seeking the return of the statue of the Kanzeon Bodhisattva to Kannon Temple, and that it will bear the signatures of around 17,000 residents of the Sea of Japan island. It might be submitted to the Cultural Heritage Administration of Korea as soon as July.

?The island?s residents protected the statue for centuries,? Takarabe said. ?My mission is to meet with senior officials of the cultural heritage entity and convey their feelings.?

The Tsushima board of education said Takarabe in late April launched a campaign to collect residents? signatures and that as of Tuesday, more than 16,800, or half the island?s population, had signed the petition.

The seated statue, designated an important cultural property by Nagasaki Prefecture, has remained in South Korea following a provisional ruling by a district court in the city of Daejeon.

An inscription indicates the statue was made in Korea in 1330 at Buseoksa Temple in what is now Yeongju, North Gyeongsang province. The board of education said it may have been sold to Kannon Temple when anti-Buddhism movements began spreading on the Korean Peninsula in the 14th century.

A South Korean temple, however, claims the statue was plundered from the peninsula by Japanese pirates between the 13th and 16th centuries.

Last February, the Daejeon District Court said that the statue should not be returned to Japan until it is confirmed that the temple on Tsushima acquired it lawfully.

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Ajahn Brahm on South Malaysian tour

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JOHOR BARU, Malaysia -- BRAHMAVAMSO Mahathera, popularly known as Ajahn Brahm among the Buddhist community, will be in Johor Baru from April 29 to May 2.

<< ENLIGHTENING: The well-known monk will speak on a variety of topics and also lead a one-day meditation session

Ajahn Brahm, who was born Peter Betts in London in 1951, will be staying at the Metta Lodge Buddhist Centre at No 26 in Jalan Rengas in Melodies Garden here.

He studied theoretical physics at the Cambridge University in the late 1960s. Upon graduation, he taught in a high school for a year before travelling to Thailand to become a monk.

He will give a talk titled "Why Are We Born?" and "What Is The Purpose Of Our Lives?" at the Metta Lodge on April 29 at 8pm.

On April 30, there will be a breakfast dana (an event where devotees contribute food to monks) at the Metta Lodge at 6.30am, followed by a one-day meditation retreat for 50 people.

The meditation session will start at 9am and end at 5pm. This will be followed by a talk titled "What Happens When We Die?" at the Grand BlueWave Hotel in Johor Baru at 8pm.

On May 1, there will be a talk titled "Meditation for Frustrated Yogis" at 9am. There will be another talk titled "Offerings to the Departed and Hungry Ghosts" at 8pm. Both the talks will be held at the Metta Lodge.

On May 2, Ajahn Brahm will head to the Kota Tinggi Forest Meditation Centre and a lunch dana will be held there.

He is scheduled to be back at the Metta Lodge in the evening.

For details , call 07-332 5500.

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"Stolen" Buddhist statue raise friction between Japan and South Korea

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Seoul, South Korea -- In October 2012, a bronze standing statue of Tathagata Buddha, designated an important cultural property by the Japanese government, from Kaijinjinja shrine, and a seated statue of the Kanzeon Bodhisattva, designated a tangible cultural property by Nagasaki Prefecture, from Kannonji temple were stolen by a theft ring of five South Koreans causing further diplomatic dispute between Japan and Korea.

Kaijinjinja shrine and Kannonji temple are located on Tsushima island, Nagasaki prefecture, which is a small island that lies between Japan and Korea.

The monks of Buseok Temple  of Seosan, South Chungcheong Province claims that the statues were made in their temple but stolen by Japanese invaders during the 14th century.  On February 26th, 2013 the Daejeon District Court ruled in favor of the Buseok Temple in South Korea's southwestern province, saying that the Kanzeon Bodhisattva statue should not be returned until it becomes clear through legal proceedings that the Kannonji temple in Tsushima, Nagasaki Prefecture acquired it in a lawful manner.

The Cultural Heritage Administration of South Korea stated that they had planned to return the statues to Japan once it had been confirmed stolen. However, the Jogye Order of Korean Buddhism urged the South Korean government to investigate how the statues were acquired by the temple and shrine in Tsushima in the first place.

The Buddhist community of Seosan, South Chungcheong Province and Buseok monastery have formed an anti-return group of the two statues and had an internal meeting at the Buddhist History and Cultural Memory Hall of Jogye Order of the Korean Buddhism in Seoul. During this meeting, they have decided to voice their opinions on why the statues should remain in Korea.

Ven. Jugyung states that “.. the seated statue of the Kanzeon Bodhisattva has made its difficult journey back to Korea. Although this situation is difficult, we are working hard to turn this situation for the best.”

Ven. Wonwu of Buseok Temple hopes that the statue will not cause further diplomatic dispute between Japan and Korea, but a beginning of a different and innovative relationship between the two countries.

Former lawmaker, Kim Won-ung emphasized that returning the Buseok Temple’s statue should not simply be a Buddhist matter, but a governmental matter. He goes on to state, “I dont think this is simply an issue concerning only the Buddhist community. I believe this includes sentiments from Korea being invaded and plundered in the past.”

Ven Doshin visited the Kannonji temple to find a diplomatic way to resolve this issue however he was unable to meet with the abbot of Kannonji temple.

Ven. Doshin states, “I believe communication is very much necessary in the Religious communities for both countries.”

Asahi shinbun stated that on March 15th, Ven Wonu brought a set of three miniature female figures sold as the temple's mascots along with a bronze Buddha statue made by an artist more than 20 years ago.

"We intended to give them to the temple as souvenirs. We wanted to offer our consolation," Wonu said.

But the visit failed to mend fences, as the Kannonji temple refused to meet the South Korean visitors, saying, "(Their visit is) nothing more than a performance to justify their claim that the statue belongs to them."

The Korean Buddhist community plans to hold various seminars, urge the South Korean government for an official document to Japan for the Buddhist statues to remain in Korea.

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South Korea ‘temple cuisine’ feeds body and soul

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PYEONGTAEK, South Korea -- A centuries-old tradition of Buddhist cuisine, with strict bars on foods linked to lust or anger, is enjoying a revival in South Korea, one of Asia's most high-stress societies.

"Temple food," as it is generally known, is moving out of the temples and monasteries and into mainstream restaurant culture, attracting a loyal following for its deceptive simplicity and health-giving properties.

Among its most skillful practitioners - and ardent promoters - is a 54-year-old monk, Jeokmun, who has devoted several decades to refining what he sees as a meditative diet that feeds both soul and body.

At his modest Sudoksa temple in Pyeongtaek City, about 60 kilometres  south of Seoul, Jeokmun teaches his techniques to an attentive class of a dozen students - mostly middle-aged housewives.

Shaven-headed with a round, tanned face, the monk shows off his knife skills as he dexterously chops cucumbers and bell peppers and cuts delicate slices of soft tofu.

His recipes for the day include tofu sauteed in plum-sauce, mushroom casserole, radish kimchi and noodles mixed in chilli sauce and vegetables.

"Temple cuisine means low-calorie dishes that make your body healthy and your spirit clean," Jeokmun said, as he makes fine diagonal slashes across the tofu slices to allow the plum-and-soy sauce flavour to penetrate.

Apart from a few dairy ingredients, temple food is largely vegan in nature and incorporates an impressive variety of wild roots, herbs and vegetables.

Its new-found popularity is partly attributable to the search for a healthier diet in a country which, like other Asian nations that experienced rapid economic development, has growing levels of obesity and diabetes.

As well as eschewing artificial flavourings and additives, temple cuisine also bans such vegetarian staples as chives, leeks, scallions, garlic and onion — known in the Buddhist traditions the "five pungent vegetables".

"The wisdom is as follows," Jeokmun explained. "Eaten cooked, these vegetable may incite the libido, while eaten raw they can set the mind to anger and greed."

South Korea is the world's third largest producer of garlic and a passionate consumer of the same.

For many Koreans, the absence of garlic from "kimchi" - the iconic national dish most commonly made of fermented cabbage - is unthinkable.

But Jeokmun sees no room for compromise.

Years ago, as a student reporter at a Buddhist college, he had been shocked to see scallion, garlic and even artificial flavour enhancers being widely used in the kitchens of many temples he visited.

Determined to bring the cuisine back to its roots, he set out on a nomadic life, visiting temples with renowned Buddhist chefs and learning their recipes.

In 1992, he launched a Korean temple food institute with like-minded monks and nuns.

In an effort to spread the message, he has taken part in numerous TV cooking programmes, given lectures and written several books, including one with 227 recipes that was published in 2000 and is now in its sixth re-print.

Jeokmun believes his food has wider appeal, including for foreigners who can have difficulties with standard Korean cuisine -- known for its liberal use of salt and spice.

For one of his students, Chang Bong-Suk, 43, the monk's teachings provide a path to bring a healthier diet to her family.

"I've been applying what I've learned here to cooking healthy meals at home, especially for my son who used to suffer from allergic skin problems," Chang said.

Her son's condition has improved as a result, she said, while admitting that her husband was less enamoured of the meatless diet.

"I transform the recipe a bit to make it more palatable for him," she confessed.

"For example, when I make a steamed pumpkin, I put some shrimp inside the hollowed-out pumpkin, together with mushrooms, tofu, ginko seeds and pine seeds demanded in the original recipe," she said.

While South Korean TVs, fridges and mobile phones have been exported with enormous success around the globe, Korea's highly distinctive cuisine remains relatively unknown.

In recent years, the government has invited overseas chefs to special "gourmet weeks," as it seeks to give Korean food the same exposure as Asian cuisines like Chinese, Thai and Japanese.

Some specialist dishes such as the pungent seafood delicacy "hongeo" - skate fermented in its own uric acid - will always be a hard sell, but staples like Korean barbecued beef and pork are already making inroads in the restaurant scene in western countries.

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Pre-dawn calls and hard beds – South Korea’s spiritual tourism

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SEOUL, South Korea -- As a paying guest at Mihwangsa, there’s no need to book a morning wake-up call.
It’s provided well before sunrise, at 4am to be precise... and it isn’t optional.

<< Participants and monks taking meditating sessions during a temple stay at a yard of Mihwangsa temple in Haenam, 350km south of Seoul. – AFP pic

Instead of a phone call - none of the rooms have phones - guests are roused by a monk walking past their rooms, knocking on a wooden block to call them for a round of pre-breakfast chanting and meditation.

The dozen guests who make their sleepy way to the temple’s main hall - clad in identical grey loose-fitting outfits - are all taking part in Mihwangsa’s Templestay programme.

Ranging from middle school students to housewives in their late 30s, and including Koreans and foreigners, they were attracted by what has become a thriving mini-tourist industry in temples across South Korea.

“I wanted to be isolated in the mountains while experiencing the traditional life,” said Helena Ranneberg, a Danish web consultant.

Mihwangsa temple is undoubtedly isolated, located halfway up a mountain in coastal Haenam county around 320km southwest of Seoul.

The Templestay programme has its unlikely origins in the 2002 football World Cup which was co-hosted by South Korea and Japan.

When the government made a general appeal for help in overcoming a shortage of hotel accommodation, the Jogye Order, the country’s largest Buddhism sect, saw an opportunity and began opening its temples to short-term paying guests.

“There were shared voices within Buddhism that we needed to interact with the outside world by opening ourselves to the public,” said Kumgang, the head monk of Mihwangsa.

The rates are relatively cheap, ranging from 50,000-80,000 won (RM138 to RM230) a night, and the amenities are spartan compared to any mainstream hotel.

Guests are obliged to sleep on thin cotton mattresses on a hardwood floor, eat vegetarian food and participate in classes on Buddhism, morning meditation and evening chanting of scriptures — all led by monks.

“The most difficult part for me was to sit and lie on the wooden floor,” confessed Ranneberg.

“I just couldn’t sleep at night.”

In their free time, they can hike in the surrounding area, read books, drink tea and participate in much of the temple’s daily life. Drinking and smoking are forbidden and mobile phone use actively discouraged.

“Other than ceremonies, I can relax, drink tea with the monks and have discussions on life... It’s all I could wish for,” said Park Seung-Kyung, a housewife from Gwangju who had booked in for three days.

None of the monks at Mihwangsa speak English, but a lay Buddhist living in the temple helps interpret for foreign guests.

For Ranneberg, the language barrier was not an issue.

“Before dawn, I had time on my own in complete darkness, just sitting in front of the traditional architecture... And that really was something different, something I would never be able to experience anywhere else,” she said.

Since the programme began a decade ago, the number of participating temples has risen from 33 to 109 and close to two million people have stayed in them.

Last year, the number of Templestay guests was 212,437, of which around 12 per cent were foreigners.

Since 2004 the government has provided subsidies totalling around US$100 million (RM306 million) to the programme which the government sees as a force for promoting traditional Korean culture.

But not everybody is happy.

Last year, the Korean Association of Church Communication issued a statement arguing that there was “room for conflict” in the government subsidising a programme associated with one particular religion.

“There clearly is a problem with financially supporting missionary events by specific religion,” it said.

The official Templestay website stresses that the programme is mainly aimed at providing a cultural experience, rather than an effort to promote religious belief.

Tensions between Buddhism and the Christian Church have deep roots in South Korea.

Historically the dominant religion, Buddhism has been eclipsed by Christianity which grew at an incredible pace in the 20th century, especially after the 1950-53 Korean War.

Thirty percent of the population describe themselves as Christian, making South Korea one of the most Christian countries in Asia, ranking third after the traditionally Catholic Philippines and East Timor.

Buddhists now comprise a little over 20 per cent, and there is some resentment in the Buddhist community over South Korea’s embrace of a particularly evangelical style of Christianity that places a strong emphasis on proselytising and missionary work.

The Jogye Order plans to designate more temples as Templestay hosts next year and head monk Kumgang says Mihwangsa will continue to participate in the programme.

“Templestay can provide people who live a busy life with a place to relax and refresh... like a realm of peace and spiritual growth,” he said.

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South Korea's Buddhists monks tackle modern challenges

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South Korea's Buddhists monks tackle modern challenges

Seoul, South Korea -- Sitting in the study at Seoul's main Jogyesa Temple, the Venerable Sung Jin wraps his wide grey tunic around him, as his round face cracks into a broad smile.

<< South Korean Buddhists march with lanterns during the Lotus Lantern Festival in downtown Seoul, 19 May 2012 Buddhist communities have been holding events to try to engage the public

Twenty years ago, he tells me, he was a student activist in South Korea's turbulent new democracy. Running from police one day after a demonstration, he took refuge in a temple, and began chatting to the Zen master there.

The rest, as they say, is history: Ven Sung Jin is now head of administration at the Jogyesa Temple.

But the question of why people become monks is a pertinent one in South Korea at the moment.

Last month, the country's main Jogye Order was hit by scandal after video footage showed several of its monks drinking, smoking and gambling in a hotel bedroom.

It was a PR disaster for South Korea's ancient national religion, already struggling to remain relevant in the face of thriving Christianity and capitalism.

Allegations of un-Buddhist-like behaviour - gambling, corruption, even paying for sex - have circled the Joyge Order, fuelled by internal divisions over the organisation's leadership.

The man who leaked the recent video footage, Ven Seong-Ho, told me the order was like "a patient with cancer - it's about to die, and we don't have the doctors who can fix it".

Many South Koreans dismiss that as hyperbole. But the recent scandal has raised new questions about the role Buddhist monks play in modern-day Korea.

Interest declining

In an age of sex, smartphones and social freedoms, what motivates people to give up many of life's pleasures and spend their lives isolated from the world in quiet contemplation?

"There's usually a moment," the smiling, accidental Ven Sung Jin told me. "A turning point, when someone decides to become a monk.

"It could be house burning down, the death of a loved one. A moment when they realise that nothing lasts forever. It's a very personal response."

But, he says, the number of people making that choice has declined.

"Compared to when I became a monk," he said, "there's been a reduction of maybe 50-70% in people coming in."

"I mean, look at this!" He holds up his bat-like sleeves.

"When life is so convenient, when there's so much to enjoy in modern life, why would you want to shave your head, wear clothes like this, and spend time with a 70-year-old Zen master in the mountains?"

Ven Sung Jin spend ten years meditating in a temple in South Korea's mountains, before moving to Seoul.

"Few want to bear the great responsibility of being a monk," he says, "when even the smallest mistakes have huge consequences."

Korea's Buddhist monks sign up for life - something that can create added pressures, says Ven Moo-Shim, an American who's lived here as a monk for almost 30 years.

"People have a different attitude about Buddhism in Korea," he told me. "For example, in Thailand, you can go to be a monk for 3-6 months, and then return to society. But in Korea it's not that simple. Korean people believe you have to give your life to it. So when they see monks squabbling over petty things, they feel sad."

'Feisty'

As a result of the recent scandal, the leaders of the Jogye Order announced 100 days of repentance, and a series of reforms designed to bar monks from running the financial or day-to-day affairs of temples without help.

Bringing in financial advisors to do the accounts, they said, would not only prevent wrong-doing, but would confine the monks to their key tasks of meditation and spiritual practice.

But it's not the first time scandal has hit South Korea's main Buddhist order. Just over a decade ago, TV pictures showed monks rioting in Seoul, over internal conflicts within the order itself.

I asked the American Ven Moo-Shim whether Korean monks' reputation for being a bit hot-blooded was deserved.

"They are a bit feisty," he said. "And part of that reputation is that they're willing to fight for what they believe is truly good, and helps the Korean people. But of course if things like this recent scandal carry on, they'll lose that good image."

During earlier Japanese and Chinese invasions of Korea, the monks came out of their monasteries to fight the invaders. But with no military invasion to head off in 21st century South Korea, how does a closeted, meditative order remain relevant now?

"I think it's facing a challenge," says Moo-Shim, "because Buddhism is trying to satisfy a need for scientific learning. But trying to adjust the needs of Buddhism to the needs of this age is not so easy."

There have been attempts, he says, to combine Buddhist teaching with counselling, and to hold street festivals and cultural events to engage the public.

But he says, at the same time "we as monks have to recognise that not everyone's ready to live like we do. And it's the monastic mind that's very interesting to a lot of people."

Ven Sung Jin agrees. Buddhism was banned and repressed in Korea for centuries, and it still survived, he said.

"The decision to become a monk isn't something that can be blown off course too easily," he says. It's about wanting to fill the empty mind.

And for someone to be affected by the recent events? "I don't think they would have been willing to take that decision in the first place."

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South Korea Jogye Buddhist monks launch reforms

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Seoul, South Korea -- Buddhist leaders in South Korea have announced that they will bring in professional managers to run temple finances, following recent "misbehaviour" by several monks.

<< Jogye Order is the representative order of traditional Korean Buddhism with roots that go all the way back 1,200 years

The country's main Jogye Order has been dogged by in-fighting and criticism since the latest scandal.

It has sparked a fresh debate on the role of monks in modern-day Korea.

The reforms mean that monks will focus on "self-discipline" and "missionary work" - not running temple affairs.

Instead, financial managers will be brought in to handle the accounts, and lay people will take over the day-to-day running of temples.

The leader of Korea's Jogye Order said there was no choice but to carry out "far-reaching reform" because "pre-modern" practices had led to disputes, conflicts and scandal.

Last month, several monks were caught on camera smoking, drinking and gambling in a hotel bedroom.

Gambling is illegal in South Korea, apart from in designated places such as casinos catering mostly to tourists. It is also a violation of the code of conduct for monks of the Jogye Order.

The video unleashed a spate of allegations against senior figures in the order - that they too had drunk alcohol, gambled and even paid for sex.

The order says it has more than 10 million followers - about 20% of the population of South Korea. But it has reportedly been hit by feuds and factional in-fighting.

Buddhist leaders have repeatedly said there would be strict penalties for those who tarnished the image of the country's monks.

The BBC's Lucy Williamson in Seoul says that many in South Korea believe that Buddhism is already struggling to remain relevant in the face of Christianity and capitalism.

Local media reports last month said that the footage was thought to have been shot by a monk from the order described as an opponent of its current administration.

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South Korea Buddhist leaders resign over gambling scandal

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Seoul, South Korea -- The leadership of the South Korea's largest Buddhist order resigned en masse after video footage of junior monks playing poker with thousands of dollars at stake emerged.

Prosecutors launched a probe after the footage came to light this week of eight monks from the Jogye Order gambling at a hotel room in southern Jangseong County.

Gambling is illegal in South Korea, except for in special areas such as casinos for foreign tourists, and is also a breach of the Buddhist order's code of discipline.

The gambling, which took place last month, was filmed by another monk and the video footage was given as evidence to the police. The eight monks were also allegedly drinking alcohol and smoking cigarettes in breach of Buddhist rules.

"All the six members of the executive committee of the Jogye Order have tendered their resignations, holding themselves responsible for the incident," a Jogye Order spokesman told Agence France Presse (AFP).

Jaseung, head of the order, said that the monks would face tough punishment and would be required to make an apology to the nation as early as on Friday, Yonhap news agency said.

The gambling controversy is the latest incident in a long-running feud between supporters of the Jogye Order's current administration and its opponents, as the footage was secretly recorded by an opponent and then made public.

One of the opponents, known by his Buddhist name Seongho, sued his eight fellow monks for gambling and betting "hundreds of millions of won."

The Jogye Order, which claims 10 million followers among South Korea's 50 million population, has been plagued by factional feuds. Dozens of monks were injured when rival factions clashed in 1999.

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Ashes to beads: South Koreans try new way to mourn

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ICHEON, South Korea -- The intense grief that Kim II-nam has felt every day since his father died 27 years ago led to a startling decision: He dug up his father's grave, cremated his bones and paid $870 to have the ashes transformed into gem-like beads.

<< In this Wednesday, Oct. 12, 2011 photo, Kim Il-nam, a retired high school principal, displays beads made from his father's ashes during an interview in Icheon, South Korea. Kim dug up his father's grave, cremated his bones and paid $870 to have the ashes transformed into gemlike beads. "Whenever I look at these beads, I consider them to be my father and I remember the good old days with him," Kim said. (AP Photo/Ahn Young-joon)

Kim is not alone in his desire to keep a loved one close — even in death. Changes in traditional South Korean beliefs about cherishing ancestors and a huge increase in cremation have led to a handful of niche businesses that cater to those who see honoring an urn filled with ashes as an imperfect way of mourning.

"Whenever I look at these beads, I consider them to be my father and I remember the good old days with him," a gray-haired Kim, 69, told The Associated Press in a recent interview.

"As a little boy, I often fell asleep while being hugged by my father," he says, sobbing and gazing at the blue-green beads, which sit on a silk cloth in a ceramic pot on a table.

A decade ago, six out of every 10 South Koreans who died were buried, a practice in line with traditional Confucian instructions to respect dead ancestors and visit their graves regularly. Since then there has been a big shift in South Koreans' thinking about the handling of the deceased, in part, officials say, because of Western influence and a strong government push for citizens of this small, densely populated country to consider cremation as a way to save space.

The government cremation campaign included press statements, pamphlets and radio broadcasts. A law passed in 2000 requires anyone burying their dead after 2000 to remove the grave 60 years after burial.

The results have been dramatic: The cremation rate last year was so high that only 3 in 10 were buried.

About 500 people have turned their loved ones' ashes into Buddhist-style beads at Bonhyang, a company based in Icheon, just south of Seoul. It and several other ashes-to-beads companies say they have seen steady growth in their business in recent years.

Bonhyang founder and CEO Bae Jae-yul says the beads allow people to keep their relatives close to them, wherever they go. He also says stored ashes can rot, a claim denied by crematoriums. "Our beads are clean; they don't become moldy and don't go off and smell bad," he says.

Bae uses ultrahigh temperature to melt cremated ashes until they are crystalized and can be turned into beads in a 90-minute process. The colors are mostly blue-green but sometimes pink, purple and black.

The ashes of one person can produce four to five cups of beads, Bae says, although the ashes of young people have a higher bone density that can yield up to eight cups of beads.

Bae isn't the first to use the technology in South Korea.

A meditation organization obtained similar bead-making technology in the late 1990s, but it was imperfect and wasn't long in the public eye, Bae says. He says he saw the potential, bought the technology and spent several years refining the process.

Bae believes his company has an important edge over rivals. His beads are made purely from human remains with no added minerals, which he says other companies blend in.

Bonhyang's chief rival, MiKwang, says added minerals help produce more rounded, gemlike beads in a faster time and at lower temperatures.

Mikwang officials say they have more business than Bonhyang but refuse to disclose their profits. Bae also refused to disclose business details. No special government license is necessary to start an ashes-to-beads business, according to the Health Ministry, which says individuals have the right to determine how to dispose of loved ones' remains.

The fledgling industry has drawn some criticism.

"They are only interested in making business profits," Do Young-hoon, a researcher on South Korea's funeral culture, says. "The highest level of respect for the dearly departed is to let them go back to nature."

Businesses turning the dead into beads were launched in the United States, Europe and Japan in the past, but were mostly unsuccessful because few people regarded it as a normal way to dispose of dead bodies, says Park Tae-ho, chief researcher at the Korea National Council for Cremation Promotion, a Seoul-based civic group.

Bae's customer Kim, a retired high school principal, says it took some time to persuade his family to accept his plan to honor his father "because they thought a ghost could come to our home along with these beads."

Every morning, Kim, a Catholic, prays to his father's beads, which he keeps on a bookshelf. He takes some beads with him in his car and has also given some to his five daughters.

Despite loyal clients like Kim, Bae says he is still years away from seeing a profit, partly because of the emergence of copycats. But he still feels confident about his business when he sees his customers' delighted reaction to the product.

"People are moved," Bae says, "and I feel it's something worthwhile. I'm confident this business will flourish considerably someday."

Bae says seven Buddhist temples and one Catholic church lease his bead-making machines. He is also negotiating deals over his technology with dozens of other religious organizations in South Korea, and with businesses in China, Thailand, Japan and the Philippines.

Ashes-to-beads businesses could also get a boost when South Koreans take advantage of next year's quadrennial leap month in the lunar calendar to conduct cremations. There's a traditional belief that the ghosts that supervise humans go on vacation during a leap month, so many people in South Korea don't feel sinful for relocating graves or digging up their relatives for cremation.

Kim plans to exhume his mother and make beads from her remains next year.

"I've also told my daughters I want my ashes turned into beads," he says.

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For Vietnamese Buddhists in south Alabama a goddess of mercy is a powerful figure

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BAYOU LA BATRE, Alabama (USA) -- Down a gravel road, on the grounds of a Vietnamese Buddhist temple, the statue of a female figure rises 30 feet tall. Her name is Bodhisattva Quan Am.

<< At the Vietnamese Buddhist temple in Bayou la Batre, Al., the Bodhisattva Quan Am rises among the pines. A bodhisattva, says the temple's monk, Thich Thien Thai, is an enlightened being who helps show people the path to understanding and knowledge. Quan Am, found throughout many Asian countries, can be likened to a goddess of mercy, says the monk. (Roy Hoffman/Press-Register)

A bodhisattva is an enlightened being who helps show ordinary people the path to understanding, says the temple’s monk, Thich Thien Thai.

Lighting incense, people kneel before Quan Am, recite prayers, and ask for blessings. Women are especially prone to beseech her favors, he says.

Thai likens her to a goddess of mercy.

"You have no son, you pray for son," Thai says in his basic English. "No daughter, you pray for daughter.

"If there is danger in family, you pray for safety."

While rare in south Alabama, Quan Am’s image is prominent in many parts of the world, including China, where she is called Quan Yin. Other countries that practice Mahayana Buddhism — including Japan and Korea, along with Vietnam — invoke her.

In countries rooted in Theraveda Buddhism, like Cambodia and Laos, Quan Am is rarely found, Thai says. Her name in Sanskrit, Thai explains, is Avalokithesvara, meaning "hearer of cries."

Quan Am, says the monk, "listens to the sounds of the suffering people."

To Thai, who arrived in this coastal fishing community two years ago, Quan Am is a daily presence.

As the monk sits in his residence adjacent to the temple, he looks up at a wooden replica of Quan Am on his kitchen table.

When Thai rises and walks through the sanctuary to the front door, he passes a brightly colored statue of Quan Am sitting next to the Buddha.

On the temple’s landing, at the top of stairs, he looks out at the giant statue of Quan Am across the yard. She stands on a lotus flower with a lotus leaf over her head, symbols of purity and enlightenment.

In her left hand, he points out, is a pitcher. 

"It is filled," he says, "with the water of compassion."

Her right hand, by tradition, makes the sign of the Buddha, palm facing outwards, thumb touched to middle finger.

But this Quan Am’s right hand is missing — a vandal knocked off her hand, he says sadly.

Thai, 44, grew up in the Vietnamese coastal city of Nha Trang, in Khanh Hoa province.

After deciding at age 13 to become a monk, he says, he studied Buddhism, going to India and other places, then returned home.

Prior to south Alabama he was stationed at a Buddhist temple in Houston.

A local Vietnamese association brought him to the bayou area "to teach knowledge," he says.

Ten years ago, the statue of Quan Am was brought to the bayou and erected near the temple. She withstood Hurricane Katrina and other storms, Thai says.

Quan Am will be moved in the near future to a new temple being constructed several miles away. Across the street from the temple is a seafood processing plant; a few blocks away is Alma Bryant High School.

Over a fence are mobile homes and small houses. A block further are shrimp boats and fishing docks.

The encircling property of the temple — named Chua Chanh Giac, meaning, says the monk, "temple of enlightenment" — is like a world apart.

On the wall of a reflecting pool in front of the large Quan Am — the water is muddied by weather — another figure of the bodhisattva sits, small and serene.

To her right is a bowl with sticks of incense burned out.

Thai lifts the small Quan Am gently, moves her back toward the edge of the wall, then situates the incense in front of her. He pauses, regards the arrangement, evens up the statue and the bowl.

Several days have passed without rain, and Thai takes up a garden hose and begins to water the flowers around the pool.

Bamboo acts like a curtain around parts of the pool.

Squinting in the afternoon sun, he peers up at Quan Am.

A person who comes to her feet may look up and implore, he says: "I have hurt. I have pain. I need for bodhisattva to listen."

Then the sun passes behind Quan Am and she gazes down, as though ready.

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Troops outnumber monks at temples in Thai south

With its barbed wire, sandbag bunker and armed guards, Wat Lak Muang in Thailand's strife-torn deep south looks more like a military outpost than a typical Buddhist temple.

Since a deadly insurgency erupted in the Muslim-dominated region seven years ago, the army has become inseparable from religious rituals in the region, where troops live side-by-side with monks in monasteries.

At Wat Lak Muang, a few kilometres from the centre of the city of Pattani, soldiers armed to the teeth return from patrol in pick-up trucks from time to time, while monks in saffron robes busy themselves around a fire inside.

Around the stupa, prefabricated barracks have been set up for soldiers and armoured vehicles and transport lorries are parked nearby.

The eight monks living there are by far outnumbered by the roughly 100 soldiers -- a situation mirrored at other temples in the region.

The army says it is a mainly a matter of convenience.

"Just because soldiers are with monks doesn't mean that it's a religious war," said Major General Acra Tiproach, deputy regional army commander.

"It doesn't mean that we're there to fight. It's only a shelter. There are buildings we can use for accommodation and we can take care of the security of local people."

Since 2004, Thailand's three southernmost provinces of Pattani, Yala and Narathiwat, near the border with Malaysia, have been riven by a complex insurgency that has claimed more than 4,800 lives, both Buddhists and Muslims.

Monks -- seen, like teachers, as a symbol of the Thai state -- are among the targets, sometimes shot or attacked with bombs while out collecting alms.

The militants denounce the Bangkok-based ruling elite and the kingdom's majority Buddhists, in a region where 80 percent of the population is of Malay ethnicity and Muslim religion.

More than ever, the daily religious routines take place under close military surveillance.

In the early morning, monks in pairs go on the traditional collection of alms -- normally gifts of food -- from the Buddhist faithful in the centre of Pattani, reciting prayers as they go.

It could be a scene from anywhere in the country -- apart from the armed bodyguards who closely follow the monks, surveying each doorway, blocking access to each street.

"The situation is bad," said a local shopkeeper who came to take part in the ritual.

But he added: "I don't think it's strange. There's nothing wrong with having soldiers with monks."

Analysts struggle to describe a conflict whose roots can be traced back to the start of the 20th century.

The leaders of the insurgency are difficult to identify, the militants are discreet and the claims of responsibility unclear.

People in the region complain of a long history of perceived discrimination against ethnic Malay Muslims by authorities in the Buddhist-majority nation, including alleged abuses by the armed forces.

While the Muslim militants are not viewed as jihadists, the presence in recent years of troops in the monasteries has brought a new religious dimension to the conflict.

"The militarisation of Buddhist temples is fuelling a sense that this is a clash between religions and that's a problematic direction to move in," said Duncan McCargo, an expert on the conflict with Leeds University in Britain.

In stark contrast to hardcore Islamic militants like Al-Qaeda, the Thai insurgents have not taken their armed struggle out of the deep south.

Moreover, the younger generation of insurgents, said McCargo, is not recruited on the basis of fundamentalist ideology.

But some soldiers have been ordained as monks in recent years. And rumour has it that certain monks are armed.

Officially, the monks do not complain. Most of the superiors approve of a military presence that they can, in any case, do little about.

"It's all right because monks live with monks, soldiers live with soldiers. We live separately," said Pipit Vavakarn Koson, the abbot of Narathiwat's Tung Kha temple.

"There were bombs in some temples, some were burnt down, some monks were killed. So I thought it's a good idea to have soldiers here with us. They can protect the villagers and will make them feel more calm."

But mosques have also been attacked in the past and there are no soldiers guarding those.

Religion is one of the three pillars of the Thai constitution -- along with the nation and the monarchy -- and nobody doubts that Buddhism is the de facto religion of the state.

"The presence of the soldiers in most, if not all, temples in this area makes it appear that temples are representations of the Thai state," said Srisompob Jitpiromsri, director of conflict monitor Deep South Watch.

"When you present yourself as a protector of the temples of the Thai Buddhist, you become the protector of the minority. State mechanism becomes part of the violence."

Wat Tung Kha sits in the middle of an exclusively Buddhist village, an enclave protected by a military roadblock. The main street is covered with yellow flags, symbols of the monarchy, therefore the domination of Bangkok.

Ophat Yenbut, 66, lives with her husband opposite the monastery. She points to the house of her neighbours and explains that the couple were killed in a rubber plantation some years ago.

"I sleep better when I know that the soldiers are here to protect us," she said.

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South Korea's religious harmony put to the test

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SEOUL, South Korea --  Many South Koreans concerned about the country's increasing religious polarisation are haunted by a single image - their president on his knees.

<< President Lee Myung-bak and his wife Kim Yoon-ok say prayers kneeling down at a breakfast prayer meeting for the nation held at Coex Samsungdong, Gangnamku, Seoul, on Thursday, Mar 03, 2011

While attending a national prayer breakfast in March, Lee knelt to pray at the urging of Christian leaders.

Footage of the event shocked many in this pluralist country, where about half the population professes no particular faith and the remainder is split between Buddhists, Christians and homegrown creeds.

The main Buddhist Jogye Order called the scene "unforgiveable," and even right-leaning media outlets generally supportive of the conservative leader expressed reservations.

The Joongang Ilbo daily in an editorial urged Lee, a devout Protestant and an elder at Seoul's Somang Church, to keep his beliefs private and avoid provoking public ire.

"(The prayer breakfast) convinced people how dangerous the current situation really is," said Park Gwang-seo, head of the Korea Institute for Religious Freedom, a civic group that works to promote the separation of religion and state.

"We're at a peak as far as the relationship between politics and religion is concerned."

South Korea's constitution stipulates that there is no official religion and bars the country's leaders from elevating one faith above others, but analysts say Lee's outspoken religious beliefs and strong links with the Christian community have opened the administration to charges of bias.

"We have for the first time very high-level conflicts going on, particularly between the Christian community and the Buddhist community," said Hahm Sung Deuk, a professor of political economy at Korea University. "And most of these conflicts can be attributed to President Lee."

ACCUSATIONS OF BIAS

Buddhists, secularists and even some Christians have bristled at cases that they believe point to a rising Christian influence in the operations of government.

These include its failure to pass legislation supporting Islamic bond, or sukuk, issuances, which was strongly opposed by Christian groups, and a reduction in funding for a program that lodges tourists at Buddhist temples.

Many also believe Lee filled key government positions based on recommendations and advice from the Christian community, Hahm says.

Christian groups say they enjoy good relations with the administration, but deny having any direct influence.

"Some people might say the church and state are too friendly, but it's not favourable for the church to participate in politics," said Kim Woon-tei, executive secretary of the Christian Council of Korea (CCK), which claims to represent around 8 million people under 69 protestant denominations.

"We only give our opinions to the state, to show how Christians view politics and the political process."

The Council's opposition to sukuk laws was not based on religion but because the proposals "(did not serve) the well-being of the economy and Korean people," Kim said.

BUDDHISTS FEEL LEFT BEHIND

A sense they are being left behind has mobilised Buddhists, who are increasingly flexing their political muscle, observers say.

"Buddhists think Christians are getting too much support (from the government)... so are organising more clearly to express themselves through political action and as a political movement," said Yoon Yee-heum, an honorary professor of religious studies and Seoul National University.

In late 2010, the Jogye Order cut off relations with the ruling Grand National Party (GNP) over the temple funding row, barring its officials from attending official temple events even throughout the campaign period for April by-elections, when candidates frequently do the rounds of prominent temples and churches.

The dispute appeared to reach a resolution on June 7, when the head of the order announced that despite the government's "religious favouritism", it would normalise ties with the ruling party and endeavour to resolve any issues through "communication and an open approach."

ELECTIONS LOOM

The timing of the peace with the Jogye Order is fortuitous for the GNP as political parties move to galvanise support ahead of the presidential election next year. In an increasingly charged environment some fear religion could play a bigger role in the results.

Kim of the CCK says while the organisation does not officially endorse specific candidates or parties, its membership is largely conservative and some church leaders "may say they are favourable to certain politicians and candidates."

Park of the Korea Institute for Religious Freedom said: "Most priests speak about politics and many people are affected by their opinions."

Others believe the impact of religious groups on the vote will be minimal and that elections could even ease the tensions that have characterised the Lee administration.

"Voters don't care much about candidates' religion itself, but how it relates to their governing," said Korea University's Hahm.

Hahm said the figures generally tipped as presidential candidates, including apparent front-runner Park Geun-hye, are careful to be circumspect about their religious views. Park aides say she professes no specific faith.

"Because of the Lee experience, many candidates will be very careful about the religious issue or selecting people from a particular religious group," he said. "They know the majority of Koreans support the principle of separating religion and politics and will try to get as much support as possible across religious communities."

Yoon warns candidates who ignore the conflicts that have arisen in recent years and turn to religion to win support may further imperil the harmony that has so far characterised relations among Korea's different faiths.

"If politicians do not look at this change, no one knows where the situation will go," he said. "Politicians see religion as a voting matter, so they're ignoring it ... (it is) clearly rising as a social problem."

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Additional reporting by Seongbin Kang, Editing by Jonathan Thatcher and Sanjeev Miglani

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