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Thronged by crowds, the palanquin carries Taiwan’s top goddess: Mazu. Based on a Northern Song Dynasty legend about a witch named Lin Mo, the deity was originally only worshipped as a protector of fishermen in coastal Fujian Province. But with a growing list of miracles credited to her over time, she came to be seen as having dominion over everything connected to ­water and became known more generally as the god of water resources and farming. Beginning in the Song Dynasty, several emperors canonized her. When the admiral Shi Lang subjugated Taiwan in the early Qing Dynasty, his success was credited to Mazu’s assistance. Consequently, Emperor Kangxi conferred on her the title “Queen of Heaven.” Backed by imperial approval, Mazu worship rose to new heights, creating a strong platform for its continued presence in Taiwan.

A deeply rooted transplant

Taiwan is an immigrant society, and early settlers strongly identified with Quanzhou, Zhangzhou or other places of origin. As they struggled for survival and competed for resources, these groups fought with each other for a century up until the 1860s when their conflicts eased and they put down roots, coming to identify more generally as Taiwanese. When establishing their communities’ main temples, those early settlers wondered: What deity should we pick? Time and again, they chose Mazu, who was much admired by Qing author­ities. Lu Mei-huan, an associate professor of anthropo­logy at National Tsing Hua University, explains that Mazu transcended ethnicity and locale to become a focus of worship for all immigrants in Taiwan.

According to the Ministry of the Interior, Taiwan has more than 1000 registered temples with Mazu as their main deity. Apart from several official titles, such as Tianfei (Heavenly Consort), Shengfei (Holy Consort) and Tianhou (Heavenly Queen), in Taiwan we also affectionately call her by familial nicknames, such as Mazupo (Granny Mazu) or Gupo (Grand Auntie), which convey the sense that one can confide in her about anything, as if she were an elder family member. In fact, many children undergo “adoption” by Mazu when they are young, explains Lin Mei-rong, an adjunct research fellow in the Academia Sinica’s Institute of Ethnology.
 

An idiosyncratic granny

Lu Mei-huan points out that the activities termed jin­xiang (“presenting incense”) and raojing (“touring the realm”)—both frequently translated as “pilgrimage”—are religious practices that traditionally held quite distinct meanings: In the past jinxiang marches involved devotees from a local temple proceeding to their ­deity’s “ancestral temple” or another temple of historical import­ance, where they would present burning incense as an act of respect to a senior deity. Raojing pilgrimages, on the other hand, conveyed the idea of important deities making tours of the regions over which they held author­ity. But today the meanings of these two religious observances have blurred. Temples no longer stress their relat­ive ranks, taking instead a more egalit­ar­ian approach that emphasizes broad participation and friendship. 

Having gone on the Mazu pilgrimages from both Dajia and Baishatun, Lu has observed how they each have their own quirks. The Jenn Lann Temple in Tai­chung’s Dajia is one of the most eminent Mazu temples in Taiwan. Every year, the deity’s pilgrimage sets off for the Fengtian Temple in Chiayi’s Xingang Township, where the two Mazu deities celebrate together. The 300-­kilometer journey there and back takes nine days.

Lu notes that when the Dajia Mazu goes out on her pilgrimage, scouts (baomazai), temple flag bearers (touqi) and other leaders head up the parade. They are followed by all manner of performance troupes. Mazu’s palanquin, whose bearers wear Qing-style clothing, brings up the rear. There is rich meaning behind the arrangement of the procession, which is full of pomp and circumstance befitting the power and grace of this female deity. 

Although belonging to just a small community temple, the Mazu of Baishatun’s Gongtian Temple has a great fondness for interacting with believers. Every year the deity travels more than 400 kilometers to the Chaotian Temple in Yunlin’s Beigang and back, passing through Miaoli, Taichung, Changhua and Yunlin. The route, moreover, isn’t fixed but rather changes each time, as the Baishatun Mazu directly interacts with ­locals by entering markets, schools, town halls and other places used by people in their daily lives.

Moving to connect

“At their essence, these jinxiang pilgrimages are a way for deities that represent places by name to go ­beyond their own home base to build and strengthen ties to outside religious, political, economic and community resources,” says Lu. In other words, these pilgrim­ages leverage relationships between deities and between a deity and its devotees to highlight con­nections between locales. 

Early on, those taking part in the Baishatun Mazu pilgrimage were all locals, but now more than 90% are outsiders. Due to the uncertain route and timetable, it is not easy to accompany Mazu’s palanquin on foot. Consequently, pilgrims believe that “those who can walk should wait for those who can’t.” The idea is that everyone needs to look out for each other.

Most of the meals and accommodations along the way are provided by fellow believers after Mazu is asked for counsel. The quantities that the deity typically agrees to mean that available resources are distributed in a manner that isn’t wasteful or overly burdensome on anyone in particular. For their part, the pilgrims often offer self-crafted tokens of appreci­ation—such as peace charms, commemorative cards, pendants and so forth—to those providing assistance. These serve as evidence of a connection to the deity. With these relationships and bonds ever expanding, the platform for Mazu to convey her compassion and kindness only grows.

Lin Mei-rong explains that in Han Chinese societies male gods need to display power by attracting pilgrims from far and wide. But Mazu makes use of her jinxiang journeys to softly make connections with the resources of various locales that bring greater influence. It’s something akin to the tradition in Han Chinese society of how “men lead in society and women lead in the household.” But make no mistake: In fostering familial links and connections that bring influence, these women exert real power. “The strength of Mazu worship in Taiwan represents an affirmation of female productivity in patriarchal society.”
 

A path of one’s own

“In Taiwan over the last century, what with modernization and the exaltation of rationality and scientific progress, folk religion came to be regarded as backward, superstitious, and too transactionally utilitarian in comparison to Western religions,” Lu says. But she relates the results of a survey on the Baishatun Mazu pilgrimage conducted in 2001. On the deity’s return trip that year, Mazu didn’t cross the Xiluo Bridge. Instead, and in accordance with her instructions, those bearing her palanquin took her through the river itself. On witnes­sing that moment in history, many wondered, “Are they really going to enter the water?” But the local devotees said, “No need for alarm! With Mazu leading the way, all will be safe!” With that faith, the pilgrims took off their shoes and socks, held hands and helped each other across. The beauty of the scene brought tears to people’s eyes. “It demonstrated how faith had entered into everyone’s hearts and minds,” Lu says.

For the younger generation, going on a Mazu pilgrimage is a once-in-a-lifetime experience to check off one’s bucket list. The young are adept at using images to record every aspect of the pilgrimage. Apart from the tradi­tional rites and ceremonies, students have shared with Lu the local delicacies they have tried at every stop along the route, as well as the ways they handled the blisters on their feet during the eight-day journey. “The focus of these young people is: ‘I’m here—how do I feel?’” Using one’s own body to experience culture and understand society in an effort to learn how other people live is an expression of confidence in one’s own culture.

As a long-time researcher of local Taiwanese culture, Lin points out that this culture had long been suppressed before the Taiwanization movement of the 1980s, when there was an awakening about the import­ance of gaining a better understanding of one’s native land. Mazu is Taiwan’s most prominent female deity, and worship of her is intimately connected to the lives of Taiwanese. By preserving the craftsmanship of an earlier era, many Mazu temples are veritable museums in themselves. Folk arts, such as those practiced by the musical troupes, martial arts troupes and other perform­ing arts troupes that accompany these pilgrimages, have taken on new forms thanks to Mazu worship. Lin invites foreign friends who visit Taiwan to check out some Mazu temples and experience this most Taiwanese of relationships between a deity and her worshipers.

For more pictures, please click《Mazu: Taiwan’s Leading Goddess》