Urban Echoes:

I grew up in Bongwon-dong,[1] a small residential hamlet located in the middle of Seoul, Korea. Its name, Bongwon, meaning “serving chiefly,” takes after Bongwonsa, a Buddhist monastery located at the foot of Mt. Ahn, a popular hiking destination for locals. The monastery is a part of my everyday memories of childhood. It greeted me on my weekly hike to the summit of Mt. Ahn. It served as a playground for my schoolmates, as many of them were children of the monastic community. Sometimes the 5 a.m. tolling of the large temple bell would wake me from my early morning slumber. The most exciting day of the year was undoubtedly the birthday celebration of the Buddha on April 4th (according to the lunar calendar). The rituals at Bongwonsa attracted participants and spectators from all over the country, as the town transformed into a bustling cultural center jam-packed with interesting street vendors of all kinds. As I walked up the road leading to the monastery, fascinated by these visitors and spectacles, I would hear the enthralling voices of chanting monks reverberating across the town, enacting a complex, melodic chant with what seemed to be words from the sutra. Following these sounds, in an almost trance-like state, I would soon find myself standing under thousands of colorful lotus lanterns. Many people, regardless of their religious background, enjoyed this yearly town festival. However, much has changed since the 1980s and 90s. The festival seems to live in a distant past, remaining only in my memories.

Bongwonsa is still there, but the social and urban milieu surrounding the monastery has changed drastically over the years. The real estate market has boomed in the last 20 years, and multi-story condominiums have replaced stand-alone houses in most parts of the area. Its proximity to neighboring universities and commercial districts, along with an increase in younger, short-term inhabitants over the years due to neighboring universities, are some of the contributing factors to changes in the area’s sense of community. The monastery still holds large events throughout the year, but they are no longer town-wide festivals. The streets remain the same as on any regular day, with only one or two banners hanging on the monastery entrance that signal the events. The small crowd that now gathers at the monastery is a testament to its declining appeal, making me reminisce all the more about its bustling past.

Beompae, a Korean Buddhist chant, is one of the oldest surviving musical repertoires in Korea today. The early records of beompae suggest that it was introduced with the advent of Buddhism around the 4th century CE, developing rapidly into a traditional Korean style by syncretizing elements of local music (Kim 2012, 25–29). As an essential part of various Buddhist rituals, this orally transmitted vocal music has persevered throughout Korean history. In the modern era, it was none other than Bongwonsa that played a major role in preserving and transmitting beompae, its effort officially recognized when beompae was designated a national intangible cultural asset in 1973.[2] Venerable Park Song-am, one of the three original asset holders and the most important figure in modern beompae, established Okchun Buddhist Music School at the monastery, the first modern beompae institution. His legacy continues in the transmission of beompae at this school.

When I decided to investigate the tradition of beompae for my dissertation, I was well aware of current struggles that beompae faced against the contemporary development of Korean society. Arguably the most notable change is the prevalent shortening of Buddhist rituals in Korea. Yeongsanjae—the largest, longest, and most involved memorial ritual in Korean Buddhism—is conducted at Bongwonsa annually on June 6, as a public demonstration of the intangible cultural asset. Few are aware that it was originally a three-day ritual and that the last time it was conducted in full was in 1968 (Han 1990, 38). This may be due partly to the lack of resources, but more important, it is the lack of demand for such a lengthy and elaborate ritual that drives these changes (Koo 2009, 217). The current asset holder, Venerable Kim Gu-hae, reminisces in an interview: “When I was younger, there was not much excitement in everyday life. Events like Yeongsanjae became a spectacle for the public. Things are much different now.”

A corollary to these changes was the decline of long chants, or jitsori. Primarily executed in larger outdoor settings, jitsori requires advanced vocal techniques distinct from short chants, or hotsori. The written records show that there were 72 jitsori repertoires, of which only 15 songs survive owing to the recordings of late Park Song-am. Even though 12 of the 15 jitsori songs were performed in the 1968 Yeongsanjae, only a handful are used in today’s compressed setting (Chae 2011, 161). Most of the jitsori repertoires are not being actively transmitted due to their limited use in current rituals. 

Reflecting on beompae, my scholarly focus was initially set on addressing concerns resulting from the diminishing prevalence of the tradition. But as I delved into my fieldwork at Bongwonsa, closely observing the practice and its practitioners through a researcher’s lens and doing my best to set aside personal attachments, I realized that the long tradition was undergoing a multitude of progressive developments in order to adapt to the contemporary social context. This was a perfect example of the “situated evolution,” a concept suggested by Matthew Rahaim to emphasize ecological adaptation rather than development toward complexity (2006, 35). 

First, Bongwonsa is keen on the conservation of its community. The monastery site consists of not only the temple buildings for sacred rituals, but also the expansive housing quarters for the priests and their family members. As a main monastery of the Taego Order, Bongwonsa allows its priests conjugal rights and the raising of children; consequently, many families have resided there for generations. The community is strictly administered by the monastery to prevent misuse of the land. Bongwonsa is unusual among Korean urban temples and thus provides an ideal environment for the transmission of beompae, allowing a smooth transition of the household practice.

Second, Bongwonsa actively and systematically promotes the transmission of beompae, mainly through Okchun Buddhist Music School. The school accepts all priests and laypersons regardless of their religious background or sect, as its sole purpose lies in disseminating the tradition and helping students gain the skills to participate and ultimately conduct various Buddhist rituals. The school is closely connected to the Yeongsanjae Conservation Society, which manages the affairs of the intangible cultural asset, and all its instructors are active practitioners. Furthermore, qualified graduates can apply for admission into the society. Along with transmission of the practical musical techniques, it also offers classes on Buddhist theory and rituals through the study of various Buddhist sutras.

Third, in the late twentieth century, the other Buddhist sects in Korea, including the largest order of Jogye, started to draw their attention to the traditional practice of Buddhist rituals. This awareness within the Korean Buddhist community escalated further when Yeongsanjae was recognized as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity by UNESCO in 2009. Previously, the Jogye Order had sought to modernize the traditionally complex rituals by translating the original texts into the Korean language and removing the artistic components, such as chanting and dancing. Its main purpose was to incite direct participation from followers and to focus on the meditative aspect of Zen Buddhism, but those changes were not devoid of factional politics as well (Kim 2008). Moreover, a recent study shows the rising popularity of Sasipgujae, a memorial ritual conducted on the forty-ninth day after an individual’s death, as the concluding ceremony for the bereaved (Koo 2009, 63). During my research, I noticed that Sasipgujae was the most commonly conducted ritual at Bongwonsa—other than the daily invocations—and its priests were often hired to conduct Sasipgujae at other Buddhist temples. Eventually, every Buddhist sect came to acknowledge the significance of the traditional rituals, spurred by the need to fulfill their clients’ specific requests which often specificed elaborate procedures. The Jogye Order established their own Buddhist music and dance school in 1997, and in 2003, the headquarters at Jogye Temple successfully conducted the Yeongsanjae ritual solely on their own (ibid., 216).

Finally, there is clear evidence of rising academic interest in beompae and Buddhist rituals in general, demonstrated by newly published books and articles on the subject.[3] The last two decades of a liberal social environment indirectly promoted academic pursuits in previously less-studied areas, especially in the subject of religion. Furthermore, there is an increasing number of opportunities for younger priests to pursue an academic career, as evidenced by young scholars coming from Bongwonsa who are already producing valuable studies on Buddhist rituals. Today, it is quite common to sponsor and organize academic seminars on beompae and Buddhist rituals at Buddhist temples, including Bongwonsa, which fosters a deeper understanding and awareness of the tradition from within the community that sustains it.

It is evident that beompae and Buddhist rituals in Korea have faced real challenges to adjust to the rapidly changing society. Yet, contrary to my earlier concerns, I have come to realize that the changes I see in this living tradition should be regarded as a progressive development that is a part of reshaping beompae’s sustainability, “the ability of a music genre to endure, without in any way implying that it should be preserved unchanging” (Grant 2014, 12). On the subject of sustainability, Jeff Todd Titon states, “sustaining music means sustaining people making music” (2009, 6), emphasizing “more partnerships among community scholars, practitioners, and culture workers” (2020, 170). To this list, I would also add the community “followers” of the Buddhist faith, since, after all, it is their beliefs that constitute the religious practice which sustains the ritual and musical tradition. While I grew up as a local resident and enjoyed everything that Bongwonsa had to offer—shelter along my daily hiking, childhood friends from the monastic community, regular festivals and spectacles that dotted the seasons—I never, in fact, considered myself a follower of the Buddhist faith. Both sides of my grandparents and extended family were all devout Christians, while my parents were self-proclaimed atheists. And now, as a graduate of the Okchun Buddhist Music School, I am finding myself for the first time a strange kind of “insider,” having bypassed the thorny issue of personal faith, and realizing anew the whole gamut of what it really means to be a “community.” As my findings suggest, the approaches of Bongwonsa concentrate on all of the people in the community who are involved, and they are adapting to ways in which these ritual practices gain further meaning in the current social fabric. My earlier, wistful reminiscence about its past glory has now shifted to a hopeful focus on the bright future that lies ahead of these young beompae priests and the broader Bongwon-dong community. 

References

Chae, Hye-ryeon. 2011. Yeongsanjaewa Beompae. [Yeongsanjae and Beompae.] Goyang: Kookhak.

Grant, Catherine. 2014. Music Endangerment: How Language Maintenance Can Help. New York: Oxford University Press.

Han, Man-yeong. 1990. Hangukbulgyoeumagyeongu. [A Study of Korean Buddhist Music.] Seoul: Seoul National University Press.

Howard, Keith. 2006. Preserving Korean Music: Intangible Cultural Properties as Icons of Identity. Farnham, UK: Ashgate.

Kim, Eung-ki. 1997. Yeongsanjae Yeongu. [A Study of Yeongsanjae.] Seoul: Unjusa.

———. 2012. Studies of Buddhist Ritual Music. Seoul: Unjusa.

Kim, Soon-seok. 2008. “The Establishment Process of the Jogye Order and the Taego Order of Korean Buddhism.” Soonchunhyang Journal of Humanities 22: 143–174.

Kim, Yeong-ryeol. 2009. Yeongsanjaeui Munhwa Keontencheu Mandeulgi. [Creating the Cultural Contents of Yeongsanjae.] Seoul: Unjusa.

Koo, Mee-rae. 2009. Hanguginui Jugeumgwa Sasipgujae. [Death and Sasipgujae of Korea People]. Seoul: Minsokwon.

Rahaim, Matthew. 2006. “What Else Do We Say When We Say ‘Music Evolves?’” The World of Music 48 (3): 29–41.

Seo, Jeong-mae. 2017. Yeongjebeompaeui Jeonseunggwa Byeonhwayangsang. [Transmission and Development of Beompae in Yeongnam Province.] Seoul: Minsokwon.

Sim, Sang-hyeon. 2006. Bulgyoeuisik Gakron I-IX. [A Study of Buddhist Ritual 1-9.] Seoul: Hanguk Bulgyo Chulpanbu.

Son, In-ae. 2013. Gyeongsanjae Bulgyoeumak. [Buddhist Music of Gyeonggi Province.] Seoul: Minsokwon.

Titon, Jeff Todd. 2009. “Economy, Ecology, and Music: An Introduction.” The World of Music 51 (1): 5–15.

———. 2020. Toward a Sound Ecology: New and Selected Essays. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.

Yoon, So-hee. 2016. Beompaeui Yeoksawa Jiyeokbyeol Tuekjing. [A Study on the Regional Features of Korean Buddhist Chant Beompae.] Seoul: Minsokwon.