Religion: The Gilded Holy Man

Chih Hang was a Chinese Buddhist monk and widely known as a good man, but he feared that he might be unworthy of the faith his disciples placed in him. When, on Formosa, he felt death approaching, he called them together and gave them unusual instructions. “When I die,” he said, “do not bury my body, but seal it in an urn. After three years, open the urn, and if my body has decayed, bury it in the ground. But if it has not, encase it in gold and place it in a pagoda.”

Chih’s disciples dutifully sealed their master’s unembalmed body, seated cross-legged in the position of meditation, in a six-foot concrete urn, enshrined it behind the monastery near Taipei where he had spent his last days, and at once set about collecting money for the gilding they were confident he would deserve.

It took them five years to find the funds. When they had the money at last (about $270), the urn was opened, and there was Chih Hang—his body considerably thinned, but firm and uncorrupted. Last week, in another shrine, guarded by stone lions and surrounded by Buddha figures, Chih sat for his gilding. Throngs of pilgrims came carrying incense sticks, bearing rice offerings, dropping coins in collection boxes. Meanwhile, Chen Lu-kuan, a goldsmith from Taipei, covered the body with a lacquered silk cloth and tenderly began to apply gilt with a brush.