90-Day Priests

The moon had waned, the seasonal rains had begun to fall, it was time for the planting of rice, and throughout the Far East last week, Buddhists were bowed in prayer. They had flocked to their temples carrying offerings of flowers and incense, and many had journeyed to Nakorn Pathom (meaning First City), 40 miles west of Bangkok, to honor the local temple's huge, pumpkin-colored, glazed stupa (tower) that marks the site of Buddhism's establishment in Thailand 21 centuries ago. The occasion: Purima Pansa, the three-months-long Buddhist Lent that gives many of the devout a chance to live in a monastery and become temporary priests.

In the days of Buddha, this annual retreat had a practical purpose: farmers had complained that the master's disciples, wandering the countryside begging for alms, were trampling the newly sprouting rice plants, and the Lord Buddha ordered his priests to keep out of the way until the crop was full grown. As centuries passed, the practice turned into a kind of spiritual excursion that every Buddhist layman tried to enjoy, and eventually entering the temporary priesthood became a matter of course; laborers, businessmen, monarchs (King Phumiphon in 1956) went through the 90-day ritual. "It's like going to college in the United States," explains a Thai. "Every boy wants to do it."

With Mother's Permission. In Thailand, one who longed many years for the chance to be ordained is Highway Supervisor Jerm Tongkhong-on, 38. To Jerm, the 90-day retreat is a normal occurrence, no different from military service, but until this year he could not spare the time. When he was finally ready, he had his wife's blessing, his mother's permission (a monastery entrance requirement) and a leave of absence from his boss, the Thai government. As is customary, his family gave a lavish party, inviting more than 100 well-wishers on the eve of the journey. Then at 7 a.m. the next day, all began the procession to the temple. A brass band thumped the sendoff, and while Jerm traveled aboard a slow-moving Jeep, young girls carried candles, Jerm's mother brought his saffron robe, an uncle (his father is dead) carried the skull-shaped, cast-iron begging bowl, and his wife followed with the simple bedding he would use during his seclusion.

Arriving at the temple, Jerm first bowed reverently before the enormous statue of Buddha, then led his procession three times around the edifice, finally faced the priests and his teachers. He handed them the required papers, including a certificate of solvency (debtors are not permitted to enter the priesthood unless creditors approve). He was duly warned that beauty is illusory and appearance unimportant; he also learned that his vows would not be strict prohibitions, but he was asked to promise that he "would try" not to kill, steal, touch the opposite sex, lie, get drunk, eat after noontime, dance or sing, use cosmetics, sleep in a comfortable bed, handle money. He was now ready to be ordained.

For a Revitalized Life. With his begging bowl in hand, Jerm was informed that he could eat only what he had collected in one morning and was not allowed to save food. He was assigned to a companion and a tutor from among the professional priests and was told his priestly name--Suwanno, meaning gold. After he stated that he was a human being (because, in the Buddha's time, legend has it that a snake in human form was once ordained), Jerm formally became a priest.

For the next three months he will awaken at 4 a.m., spend mornings begging food, afternoons in meditation. He will try to observe 228 commandments and confess each failure, no matter how small (example: inadvertently killing an insect). And when the 90 days are over, he will return to his worldly occupation --respected and, he hopes, revitalized for the daily toil in the world of appearances.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.