Michael Naparstek, University of Tennessee

Daoism, China’s indigenous religion, is one of the country’s five officially recognized religions today. Practiced by millions of people in China and around the world, Daoism takes on many forms, stretching back from ancient roots to the modern world.

It challenges the conventions of how people often define religion. Unlike many other faiths, Daoism does not necessarily center on a deity, though there are many Daoist deities. Nor does it have a unified system of beliefs or follow a singular authoritative doctrine.

In fact, followers say the Dao, which literally means the “way,” cannot be truly explained. Rather, it is often viewed as something like a mysterious, balanced cosmic force. Daoist practices, then, are based on the premise that everything that makes up the world emanates from the Dao.

Daoism approaches the world not from the perspective that the world is broken or needs to be saved, but rather that it is naturally balanced. When things go wrong, Daoist, also referred to as Taoist, practice seeks to bring the world back into harmony with the Dao.

As a scholar of Daoist ritual, I am interested in the diversity of Daoism’s ideas and practices. These include rituals related to cosmic realms, guidance for navigating the challenges of daily life and even the worship of powerful deities. Many of these practices stretch back thousands of years, offering a window into China’s religious and cultural past.

The Dao

Early textual sources describe the Dao not in terms of what it is but rather what it does.

The Daodejing – “The Classic of the Way and its Power” – is the first known text to articulate the Dao as the source of all things. Composed sometime during the fourth century B.C.E. by the legendary figure Laozi, it states, “The Dao begets the One, the One begets the Two, the Two begets the Three, the Three begets the 10,000 things.” In other words, everything we can see and know can be traced back to the Dao.

Intentionally vague and obscure, the Daodejing would go on to inspire various interpretations ranging from philosophical reflections to how to realize the Dao in everyday practice.

Other early texts describe the Dao through illustrative anecdotes. For example, the fourth century B.C.E. author Zhuangzi describes the Dao through often humorous anecdotes. One of the most well-known vignettes asks whether a dozing Zhuangzi dreams that he is a butterfly or whether he is a butterfly dreaming that he’s Zhuangzi.

Through deceptively simple illustrations, the book attributed to Zhuangzi, which is also known as the “Zhuangzi,” artfully raises complicated questions on the relationship between our world and how we know what we think we know.

Balancing with the Dao

While Daoism asserts that the world is naturally balanced, it recognizes that sometimes it gets out of order. This is where Daoist practice steps in to help.

Daoist practice includes sophisticated rituals and visualization techniques to align one’s own body with the rhythms of the world. Practitioners understand their own bodies to be a microcosm of the entire cosmos based on the idea that everything stems from the same Dao.

Daoists believe these practices help their own longevity and also rebalance the world at large through their connection to the Dao.

Daoist ideas of alchemy play an important role in this relationship. In general, Daosist alchemy is understood as distilling elements of the world into potent spiritual essences. Daoist specialized practices aim to recombine those essences – known as “jing” – into spiritual potency.

In its earliest forms, beginning in the second century B.C.E., Daoist alchemical practices would mix rare ingredients from the earth to transform them into what they believed to be “elixirs of immortality.”

Subsequent centuries witnessed these practices moving away from physical ingredients, such as rare plants and minerals, to become more focused on visualization techniques. This form of “inner alchemy,” or “neidan,” does not use actual ingredients but rather focuses on distilling the spiritual essences within one’s own body to achieve immortality.

To do so, practitioners of “inner alchemy” would call upon new hosts of Daoist deities to aid them in their internal processes.

Daoist figures – deities and masters

There is no single, authoritative Daoist collection of deities. Rather, various Daoist traditions have their own preferred deities they revere based on their own particular histories and practices.

Still, some figures appear across pantheons. The Three Pure Ones, known as the Sanqing, are understood to be the most pure representation of the Dao. They consist of three figures, including Laozi, who often appear in rituals on painted ritual scrolls as Daoists seated on imperial thrones.

These three deities are thought to be personifications of the Dao who inhabit the highest realms of the Daoist cosmos, far from the dust of day-to-day life. To reach them, Daoists perform rituals to take the long journey all the way to the court of the Three Pure Ones in order to have an audience and report on the merits of the community.

Some Daoist communities refer to Laozi as “Lord Lao Most High,” or “Taishang Laojun.” The earliest Daoist community, known as the Celestial Masters, believed that their founder, Zhang Daoling, had made a special contract with the deified Laozi that would protect them through a cataclysmic end of times.

As the influence of the Daoism of Celestial Masters spread, Zhang Daoling would also come to be seen as a powerful deity in his own right, often depicted with bulging eyes and wearing a red robe, accompanied by a tiger.

One of the most mysterious Daoist deities is the popular Perfect Warrior, or Zhenwu. Zhenwu’s roots stretch back to ancient days as the god of the North, when he was often depicted as a turtle entwined with a snake.

Later on, Zhenwu took a human form, often shown wearing robes or armor, with long black hair flowing behind him, bare feet, and holding a sword or banner emblazoned with the Big Dipper.

By the Ming dynasty, which ruled from 1368 to 1644, Zhenwu had become the patron deity of the imperial household. Known for his command of ferocious demon-quelling deities, Zhenwu remains a popular deity in Daoist exorcist rituals in places such as Taiwan.

Daoism also incorporates many deities from Chinese mythology and other religious traditions, such as Buddhism. Among the most prominent are the popular Eight Immortals, whose wild adventures often culminate with a lesson on the natural order.

Other ubiquitous Chinese deities, such as the regal Jade Emperor, the faithful warrior Guan Yu, the wondrous savior Mazu, and the demon-quelling Zhong Kui, fill both the popular imagination and the stuff of Daoist ritual.

Many of these figures can now be found in movies, books and even video games, but they have their roots in the rituals and myths of Daoism.

The various forms of Daoism today

Throughout its history, Daoism never lost touch with the local traditions. Local gods and even vengeful ghosts come to be incorporated into Daoist pantheons, where they now serve to keep troublesome spirits from upsetting the community. As a result, Daoism continues to be an integral part of everyday life.

In places such as Taiwan, Daoist priests can be seen today conducting rituals at community temples and annual festivals. In mainland China, Daoism continues to be practiced in some of the most important and ancient sites of Chinese culture, such as the eighth-century “White Cloud Abbey” in Beijing.

Meanwhile, those outside China remain fascinated by Daoism, as well, with new translations of the Daodejing hitting the market every year.

As such, Daoism maintains its complex and diverse nature well into the modern era, still striving to bring it all back into balance with the Dao.

Michael Naparstek, Associate Teaching Professor Religious Studies, University of Tennessee

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Megan Bryson, University of Tennessee

In many religions and cultures, women who are menstruating or who just gave birth are not allowed to enter sacred sites, such as temples, or participate in religious rituals. This is because they are often seen as ritually impure.

Early Christians cited menstruation as the reason for not allowing female deacons or priests. Modern Catholic teachings do not express this attitude directly, but some Catholic feminists argue that views of women’s blood pollution still influence the church’s position against women’s ordination.

According to certain Hindu texts, menstruating women should be cut off from the rest of the household and avoid participating in ritual life. In Hinduism, as well as other religions and cultures, traditional taboos related to menstruation and childbirth are, however, no longer practiced widely.

An extreme attitude toward the ritual pollution of menstruation and childbirth appears in a Chinese Buddhist text called the “Blood Bowl Scripture,” which I have studied in my research on East Asian Buddhism.

This text, written in China by the 13th century, spread to Japan soon after. It describes a complicated chain of events in which a woman gives birth at home, then washes her bloody clothes in a nearby river. People downriver don’t realize that the water has been polluted with the blood of childbirth, and they use the water to make tea that they offer to the gods. As punishment for offending the gods with tainted water, the woman who gave birth is condemned to fall into the “Blood Pond Hell” after she dies.

Rebirth in the hells is one possible form of reincarnation in Buddhism, which teaches that the quality of people’s karma in their present life determines where they are reborn in their next life. The “Blood Pond Hell” is one of many kinds of hells found in traditional Buddhism. According to Buddhist worldviews, people are reborn in the hells when their bad karma severely outweighs their good karma. However, after people serve their time in the hells, they can be reborn in other realms.

Japanese Buddhists expanded on this idea to claim that the pollution of menstrual blood alone led to rebirth in the Blood Pond Hell, which condemns all menstruating women to this kind of suffering.

Most educated Buddhist monks in premodern China rejected the Blood Bowl Scripture because it didn’t come from India. Buddhism originated in India, and Buddhist scriptures are supposed to be the words of the Buddha, so the Blood Bowl Scripture was not included in official scriptural catalogs. But the text and its practices became an important part of popular Chinese Buddhism.

For example, a famous Chinese novel from the 17th century, “The Plum in the Golden Vase,” describes its female characters practicing rituals based on the Blood Bowl Scripture.

Blood Pond Hell beliefs and practices still exist today. However, they are not as common as they used to be – and women have developed new interpretations.

Beliefs in modern China

For most women in human history, giving birth has been a requirement, not a choice. Yet, for women in premodern China and Japan, fulfilling the social obligation to have children simultaneously condemned them to “Blood Pond Hell.”

The “Blood Bowl Scripture” encourages adult children to hire Buddhist monks to perform rituals that will save their mothers from this unpleasant fate.

Though not all Buddhists today believe in the hells, including the “Blood Pond Hell,” some do. Visitors to temples and Buddhist theme parks in Asia may find paintings or three-dimensional dioramas of women in a bloody pond.

People who do not believe in the hells may still perform the rituals to save their mothers from the “Blood Pond Hell” to show love and gratitude. In some parts of China, women preemptively save themselves from the “Blood Pond Hell” by performing their own rituals, usually as part of women’s religious associations.

Emphasizing mothers’ self-sacrifice

In many parts of China, middle-aged and older women form voluntary religious associations. The religious associations get together twice a month and on holidays to recite scriptures, make offerings to the gods and go on pilgrimages to sacred sites.

Most women who participate are already menopausal, with grown children. Pre-menopausal women are allowed to participate if they aren’t menstruating.

In the religious associations of southeast China’s Fujian province, women perform a ritual called “Returning to the Buddha” that aims to purify them of bad karma before they die. In this ritual, women atone for different kinds of bad karma, which includes spilling the polluted water they used to clean up after childbirth.

Women’s religious associations across China also recite scriptures to repay mothers’ kindness. Reciting scriptures is seen as creating good karma, which the women dedicate to their mothers. These scriptures still portray uterine blood as polluting, but they also recognize the sacrifices mothers make in bringing their children into the world.

One such scripture describes how mothers sacrifice for their children first in life, then in death when they fall into the “Blood Pond Hell.” The women who recite these texts both express gratitude for their mothers’ sacrifices and recognize their own sacrifices as mothers.

Reframing the female body

In addition to reinterpreting the “Blood Pond Hell” through the lens of mothers’ sacrifice, women in modern China have developed new interpretations of how female bodies are portrayed in “Blood Pond Hell” beliefs and practices.

Buddhist texts often claim that being reborn as a woman is a karmic punishment, and some texts describe female bodies with disgust. For example, a repentance text for saving women from the “Blood Pond Hell” claims that menstruation is caused by 12-headed worms living in the birth canal that vomit blood and pus once a month.

However, in my research I encountered a sermon about this repentance text by the Taiwanese nun Venerable Shi Changyin. She claims that “worms” really meant “bacteria” or “cells,” but premodern people lacked the biomedical terminology to express this properly.

Changyin’s reinterpretation of worms as cells reflects other ways for women to think about the blood of menstruation and childbirth. The negative views of female bodies expressed in the “Blood Bowl Scripture” are one perspective among many in contemporary Chinese culture.

Buddhist teachings that downplay the importance of gender, traditional Chinese medicine, and biomedicine offer other perspectives on reproduction and female bodies. Many scholars and practitioners of Chinese Buddhism reject “Blood Pond Hell” beliefs as remnants of negative attitudes toward female bodies in early Buddhism.

They see Mahayana Buddhism, the main form practiced in China, as promoting gender equality. In traditional Chinese medicine, blood is an important part of women’s health as a source of vitality rather than impurity. And biomedicine avoids concepts like purity and pollution when treating issues related to menstruation and childbirth.

A narrative of empowerment

The “Blood Bowl Scripture” demonizes the blood of menstruation and childbirth and, by extension, reproductive female bodies in general. Yet many women, past and present, have participated in the scripture’s rituals to save their mothers or themselves from this fate.

It is important not to just dismiss women’s participation as internalized misogyny, but to understand what women get out of these practices.

Women in Chinese Buddhism have taken the initiative in emphasizing maternal self-sacrifice over ritual pollution and in using other frameworks to make sense of menstruation and childbirth.

Megan Bryson, Associate Professor of Religious Studies, University of Tennessee

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Michael Naparstek, University of Tennessee

Uncommon Courses is an occasional series from The Conversation U.S. highlighting unconventional approaches to teaching.

Title of the course

Religion and Gameworlds

What prompted the idea for the course?

Most of my research is in Chinese religions, and I find it fascinating that popular video games – like many popular films before them – draw from the mythologies, cosmologies, unseen powers and heroic narratives found across the world’s religious traditions.

Recent examples such as “Black Myth: Wukong” and “Raji: an Ancient Epic” draw explicitly from mythologies and religious narratives of China and India, respectively, putting the player in direct contest against pantheons of gods. Meanwhile, games such as “Sid Meier’s CIV VI,” where players develop an historical civilization from the Stone Age to Space Age in a quest for global domination, explicitly utilize religion as ways to develop and conquer the world.

At the same time, the interactive experience of a video game makes it an especially interesting place to study religion. When your character uses magic, interacts with powerful deities, or even achieves godlike status themselves, the player also shares such experiences on some level as well. Sometimes, viewers’ experiences blur the lines between “real life” and on-screen.

Some churches have even used the game “Second Life” to offer worshippers the option of getting baptized using their digital avatar in the game. This kind of practice raises poignant questions about how we understand religion in our modern world.

What does the course explore?

What makes this course different from many others that utilize video games is that the student experience of playing the games influences how we frame our investigation of religion. Students wrestle with questions about how religion helps build the worlds they are experiencing.

We meet in the game lab as a class once a week to observe and analyze each other’s experiences playing different kinds of games.

We start the week with relevant theoretical and historical framing in the traditional classroom. For example, in our investigation of “Black Myth: Wukong,” a game inspired by the 16th-century novel “Journey to the West,” students first read selections from the work as they learn about its protagonist, the trickster monkey god Sun Wukong.

In the novel, Wukong picks fights with all the gods in an attempt to overthrow the cosmic order, only to eventually be violently put in his place by the highest gods of the Chinese pantheon. Our class discussions thus serve as a general introduction to Chinese religions, while we also get to discuss the theoretical basis for culturally defined ideas such as what makes a hero.

Playing as a descendant of Sun Wukong, students explore enchanted landscapes, interact with local spirits and engage in magical combat against the very gods that we learned about in class.

Each week, students note their observations, carefully detailing their experience playing the game, as well as the experience of watching others do the same. Students are also asked to analyze the ways in which religious themes, narratives and practices played a role in the game world they experienced.

We conclude the class with weekly reflections on the overall experience.

What will the course prepare students to do?

In 2024, the video game industry boasted over US$184 billion generated in market value. The global reach of games allows new audiences to experience and learn about religious narratives and practices in new ways.

Popular media has long been a powerful mode of cultural exchange. Video games are just a recent example, but the scale to which gamers around the world connect with each other through playing demands more attention.

The wild popularity following the 2024 release of the game “Black Myth: Wukong,” the first premier produced game out of China for an international audience, suggests that this kind of experience is truly a global phenomenon that will only continue to grow. It only makes sense that video games can serve as powerful pedagogical tools as well.

The goal of the course is to prepare students to better understand the broader contexts in which their shared experience of enjoying video games derives. Learning about the role of religion in shaping that experience allows students to better understand how religion shapes our modern world.

Michael Naparstek, Associate Teaching Professor Religious Studies, University of Tennessee

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Megan Bryson, University of Tennessee

Mother’s Day offers an opportunity to reflect on what motherhood means in different religions and cultures. As a scholar of Buddhism and gender, I know how complicated Buddhist attitudes toward mothers can be.

The historical Buddha, Siddhartha Gautama, taught that family ties were obstacles to enlightenment. According to the Buddha, attachment to family causes suffering because family relationships eventually end and cannot offer lasting contentment. The main goal of Buddhism is to break the cycle of rebirth, which is characterized by suffering.

However, one family tie remained important for the Buddha – his relationship with his mother. Even after the Buddha left home, he continued to honor two mother figures – his biological mother, Maya, and his foster mother, known as Mahaprajapati Gautami in Sanskrit and Mahapajapati Gotami in the Pali language, which was used for early Buddhist scriptures in ancient India. These women played key roles in the Buddha’s life story, and they continue to inspire Buddhists today. Mahaprajapati specifically inspires women as the first Buddhist nun.

Many Buddhist scriptures describe reproduction and pregnancy in negative terms because they continue the cycle of rebirth. But Buddhist scriptures also express love and gratitude for mothers, especially the Buddha’s two mother figures.

Maya, the birth mother

Maya and Mahaprajapati were sisters who both married the Buddha’s father, Suddhodana, who ruled the region of Kapilavastu along the India-Nepal border. Maya’s name means “illusion,” which refers to a Hindu and Buddhist concept that the material world conceals the true nature of reality.

Miracles related to Maya appear throughout stories of the future Buddha Siddhartha’s conception, gestation and delivery. Siddhartha is the Buddha of the current world cycle, but in Buddhist tradition there were other Buddhas in the past and there will be more Buddhas in the future. Each one goes through many rebirths before they attain Buddhahood, and each Buddha’s final rebirth follows the same pattern. According to Buddhist texts, Buddhas-to-be wait for the right time to be born, they choose their own parents, and they are not conceived through sexual intercourse.

Early Buddhist texts claim that Siddhartha chose Maya as his mother because of her purity and entered her right side in the form of an elephant while she was sleeping. According to some Buddhist scriptures, during Maya’s pregnancy the future Buddha never actually touched her womb, which was considered impure in early Indian Buddhism. When Siddhartha was born, he is said to have emerged from Maya’s right side as she stood, holding onto a tree branch.

Maya died seven days after her son’s birth, meaning that she did not live to see him become an enlightened Buddha. As the Buddha, even though Siddhartha encouraged his followers to leave domestic life and cut family ties, he never forgot his birth mother.

Thanks to her good karma, Maya had been reborn in the heavens as a god, but in Buddhism gods are not as spiritually advanced as Buddhas. The Buddha used his spiritual powers to travel to the heavens, where he preached to Maya and encouraged her progress on the Buddhist path.

One Chinese text claims that Maya spontaneously lactated upon hearing her son’s words, showing that the bond between mother and son remained strong even after her death.

Mahaprajapati, the foster mother

Siddhartha’s aunt Mahaprajapati became his foster mother after Maya died. She cared for the young Siddhartha and breastfed him, having just given birth to her own biological son, Nanda.

When Siddhartha was preparing to leave home to follow a spiritual path, the chariot driver tried to convince him to stay by reminding Siddhartha how Mahaprajapati nursed him and telling Siddhartha he should be grateful for her motherly kindness.

Siddhartha left home anyway, which caused Mahaprajapati to collapse out of grief. According to the Mahavastu, the earliest Sanskrit biography of the Buddha, her “eyes, as a result of her tears and grief, had become covered as with scales, and she had become blind.” It was only after Siddhartha returned as the Buddha that her sight was restored.

At around the same time as the Buddha’s return to his kingdom of Kapilavastu, his father Suddhodana died, making Mahaprajapati a widow. The books with rules for Buddhist monks and nuns, known as the Vinaya, report that Mahaprajapati approached the Buddha to ask whether women like her, as well as women whose husbands had become monks, could leave home to join the Buddha’s monastic order.

The Buddha eventually agreed to this request but warned that including women as nuns would cut short the lifespan of Buddhist teachings in the world from 1,000 years to 500 years. Mahaprajapati became the first Buddhist nun, reaching enlightenment before passing away at the age of 120.

Scholars of Buddhism do not necessarily treat this episode as literally true, but instead see it as a reflection of mixed attitudes toward admitting women as nuns in the early Buddhist community. These mixed attitudes can still be seen today – for example, in the unwillingness to reinstate the order of nuns in Southeast Asia, which died out centuries ago.

In Buddhism, nuns must be ordained by a group of 10 fully ordained monks and fully ordained nuns. An order of nuns still survives in China, Japan, Korea and Vietnam, where Mahayana Buddhism is practiced. However, the monastic leaders in Southeast Asia, where Theravada Buddhism is practiced, decided that Mahayana nuns could not ordain Theravada nuns, leaving countries such as Thailand, Laos, Cambodia and Myanmar without fully ordained nuns.

Legacies of the Buddha’s mothers

Both Maya and Mahaprajapati were loving mothers in the Buddha’s life story, but it is Mahaprajapati who has remained more of an inspiration for Buddhist women.

Reiko Ohnuma, a scholar of South Asian Buddhism, argues that Maya is remembered in Buddhist tradition as an idealized, if passive, maternal figure. Her death shortly after the future Buddha’s birth serves as a reminder that life is impermanent and characterized by suffering.

In contrast, Mahaprajapati lived a full life and played an active role in both raising the future Buddha and in advocating for women to join the monastic community. Early Buddhists may not have fully supported the inclusion of women in the Buddhist monastic community, but the nuns’ order was established nonetheless.

Mahaprajapati made this opportunity possible thanks to her unique position as the Buddha’s foster mother.

Megan Bryson, Associate Professor of Religious Studies, University of Tennessee

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.