Alternate title: Confusious say two crazy-happy Vietnamese sisters named Mai will lead you to supreme enlightenment.
During the first weekend that An and I really met and endured great trauma and drama over whethero r not An would be able to come live with our family or would have to return to Vietnam, we made a promise that, if everything worked out all right, we would go to a Buddhist temple. And then to DSW. Tonight, An and I visited the Linh Son Pagoda, a Vietnamese house of worship in Columbus.
I was not sure what to expect, other than to leave my shoes at the door. We arrived as an evening service was starting. There were four women and one man reading from what looked to be a Vietnamese hymnal. They weren't exactly singing - more like chanting. One woman kept a rhythmic beat on a small drum, and another clanged a small bowl at the end of each verse. An said that the words they were chanting told stories. We sat and listened for a few minutes, then we each took several sticks of incense around to different stations where we said prayers and then stuck a lighted incense stick in an urn of ashes.
The inside of the pagoda was impressive - interesting, yet somewhat indescribable. The floor was covered with thick rugs, where we sat behind ornate, carved wooden hymnal holders. At the front were elaborate altars decorated with crystal, fresh flowers, trays of oranges, many ornate Buddhas and other deities, and a bag of Hershey's kisses (I whispered to An, "apparently, the Buddha likes chocolate!") In the middle of it all was a larger than life Buddha, seated in his traditional pose, and behind him stood three "back-up singer" Buddhas, each one in a different pose holding a vase or a bird or some other decorative item. The Buddhas were shiny and appeared gold-plated, but something about the entire arrangement made me think of McDonald's or Disney World: very manufactured, in a Vegas sort of way. When we made the final stop on our pray-and-deliver-incense-tour in front of the main Buddha, I noticed two cordless microphones resting near the bottom of Buddha's alter, and I could just picture Buddha and his back-up singers launching in to an automated performance of "Atomic Dog" like some bizarre take-off of Disney's Country Bear Jamboree.
We stepped out of the main part of the pagoda to speak with two woman greeters - Mai, and her sister Mai. They also mentioned that they have at least one other sister named Mai. I did not ask their last name, but it must be Nguyen, because something like 60-70 % of Vietnamese people share that surname.
Well, Mai and Mai could not have been nicer! They were so overjoyed that we had come to the pagoda, and so proud of An for leaving her family and coming to the U.S. to study at such a young age. Mai Also thanked me profusely for being helpful to the Vietnamese. Then, Mai presented me with a gift - a large bag of oranges like the ones that had been placed on the alter as an offering to Buddha.
We talked more, with An and the two Mais switching back and forth between English and Vietnamese. Mai and Mai have lived in the U.S. since 1975. Having a pagoda in Columbus has been a life-long dream of theirs, realized last year when the Linh Son was completed. I asked them how long it took them to get used to the cold weather here after the moved from Vietnam. Then they and An talked in Vietnamese a little more, and the older Mai went in to the next room to get something, against An's protests. She returned with her and her sister's winter coats, proceeded to empty the pockets, and insisted that An try them on. An tried to explain that she had other coats (I think she has at least 5 now) but the two Mais vehemently insisted that she take their coats. "They are nothing to us - we can get other coats!" After a few awkward rounds of trying to politely refuse the coats, it became clear that An would not be able to leave without taking at least one of the coats, a fact which seemed to overwhelm the two Mais with joy. Then we all hugged, and the Mais again thanked us for coming and said some very meaningful things about An's experience here.
As we were heading for the door, the older Mai again signaled for us to wait while she went to get some food from the kitchen in the basement. After a few moments, we followed her down and the two Mais began rummaging through the freezer, packing up grocery bags and containers full of Asian vegetables and seasonings I have never heard of. Mai offered An a bag of what appeared to be frozen fish fillets that they had ordered from California, but she took it back after we told her that I did not own a hot plate that could be used to cook the fish in the garage, because she did not want to stink up my house with strong fish smell. They also threw in a package of veggie burgers - vegetarianism is big in Buddhism.
Then, I kid you not, Mai took some containers from the refrigerator, set a pan on a small hotplate on the floor, and cooked us a dish right then and there - some sort of veggie - noodle stir fry. The other Mai pulled out a styro-foam "to go" container and wrapped it up for us. All in all, we left the pagoda with two shopping bags of food, a bag of oranges, and a new coat. Again, Mai tried to explain to me the wisdom of Confucius. I can't paraphrase it exactly, but I understood that they wanted to do something that would make our visit to the pagoda meaningful, and that their act of giving us these things meant far more than the things themselves.
Needless to say, we'll be back to visit the pagoda again, next time with empty stomachs!
Recent Comments