Decoding Asia’s Most Symbolic Temple Designs ｜ FULL DOCUMENTARY

Part of the Hindu Meenakshi Temple in Madurai, in the region of Tamil Nadu, gods of stone have always been a part of people's daily lives. Each day, over 15,000 believers come here to visit and worship them. Everyone maintains a close personal relationship with the god of their choice. With almost a billion followers, Hinduism is the third largest religion in the world. The temple is home for us Brahmins, but also for everybody. Even if everyone has their own home, the temple is everyone's home. Until India's independence in 1947 and the end of the caste system, temples were reserved for Brahmins and kings. Built in the 10th century, Meenakshi was among the first temples to open its doors to all worshippers. It has become one of the most popular. The temple ought to be a place where a man can face himself. Once a man discovers the true state of his soul, he can only want to improve himself. A mirror of mankind, the gods reflect every human emotion. They fill each recess of the temple with their infinite transformations. They have a thousand names and a thousand faces. Outside, the pantheon of Hindu gods is displayed in a joyous Baroque disorder. It is said there are 33,000 divinities in Meenakshi temple, representing the 33,000 manifestations of the three major Hindu deities. Brahma, the creator, Vishnu, the preserver, and Shiva, the destroyer, who renews life. Each god has taken on a human form. Perched on the stucco walls, they participate in the great cycle of life. Every 15 years, they get a fresh coat of paint, because in India, color is a symbol of vitality. Color is the light emanating from the deities' bodies to illuminate the world of man. During the Vedic age in India, there weren't any temples. People merely recited mantras and prayers. All living beings were considered temples, since each living being has a soul, and each soul is a representation of God. And then temples came about. The very first temples were inspired by the form of Buddhist temples. Each temple was based on the human body, because the human body was considered to be a holy temple. The temple is not merely the dwelling place of gods, but the symbolic representation of a sacred body in human form. The temple is a living being, and the labyrinth of its courtyards, pillared halls, and corridors are its entrails. From the granite pillared ceilings to the floors of sculpted stone, all its surfaces are holy. Visible from far off on the horizon, the huge gopuram gateway towers mark the borders of the Meenakshi compound. The temple sprawls over a surface of six hectares in the heart of Madurai, the city built around it. The temple has a total of twelve gopurams, or gateway towers. Of the twelve towers, eight of them were built when the temple was first constructed. Subsequent kings always wanted to make something bigger. And the last ones built the four great towers we see today. Positioned at the four cardinal points, the gopurams surround the shrine at the center of the temple. Beneath its golden roof lies the most sacred spot, the realm of Shiva. From the start, the builders of Meenakshi adopted and adapted the principles of Buddhist architecture. The shrine where Shiva resides is built within concentric walls that represent the cosmos. The degree of holiness decreases as one moves away from the center. But a few centuries later, this perfect order was thrown off by the construction of a second shrine devoted to Shiva's wife. Ever since, the holy complex has developed around two centers rather than just one. An architectural exception, unique in India, engendered from the unlikely love of the god Shiva for a woman-turned-goddess. A woman who gave her name to the temple, Meenakshi. The temple owes its huge popularity to the legend that joins a woman to a god. She's popular in Madurai because people here in Madurai think of her not only as their goddess, but also as the daughter or the queen, the Pandyan queen, which is a dynasty that had its origins and its center here in Madurai. According to legend, the king and queen of Madurai were unable to produce a son and heir. So the gods gave them a little girl as a gift. She was born with three breasts. They named her Meenakshi and raised her like a boy. She became an invincible warrior with perfect mastery of weapons. One day, she headed into battle on Mount Kailash, the home of Shiva. And when she gets there and faces Shiva, her third breast falls. And she realizes at that moment that he is to be her husband. Meenakshi, now an accomplished goddess of love, femininity and fertility, watches over her fellow women. People will refer to gods in the present. There's a belief or this feeling that gods are not only part of their daily lives, but alive. In Madurai, the gods live like people. And people can become gods. The sacred space is not circumscribed. It's very porous. It's very permeable. It's very flexible as well. The sacred is not just in the temple. It extends and becomes part of one's daily life. Meenakshi is a very example of the living temple that never stops evolving and changing over time. But 200 kilometers north of Madurai, the temples of Tanjavur have kept their original perfection. Over a thousand years old, Brahadisvara temple is one of the most beautiful architectural gems of South India. The purity of its style, harmony of its proportions and profusion of its granite sculptures make it an incomparable monument. It's devoted to Shiva, the most popular deity in the Tamil Nadu region. But what makes it particularly interesting is that the building principles inherited from Buddhism have remained visible and intact. In the ancient Vedic hymns at the origin of Hinduism, gods are elements of nature. All Hindus share this respect for nature and believe in a higher consciousness called Brahman, considered to be the supreme god, creator of the universe. So in the old days, in some of the Vedic hymns, for example, they conceptualized and gave this Brahman a form called the Vastu Purusha or the eternal human being. When we see that eternal human being in the earth and we build a structure around that human being, that becomes a temple. Like Meenakshi, this temple represents the divine body in human form. It fits in the center of a square divided into multiples of nine, corresponding to the nine planets of Indian astrology. And this point over here, the center point, will actually be the navel. And in fact, even in Sanskrit, this is called the Garbha Griha, which means literally the womb. And that's where the main deity is. So the focus of the attention is towards the center point. Rising directly from the navel of God, the Vimana, a hollow pyramidal tower, houses the god Shiva. The heavenly palace, the most sacred place in the temple, towers above the other buildings. The temple's proportions are based on precise measurements that connect the different buildings. The outer wall is composed of two squares, each with sides 140 meters long. The 70 meter tall Vimana corresponds to exactly half of one square. The layout of the buildings forms a combination of squares representing the earth and circles representing the sky nested into one another. A perfectly symmetrical design that is none other than the Buddhist representation of the cosmos found throughout Asia, the mandala. In Sanskrit, mandala means design, circle, or else center and periphery. It is the diagram that represents the order of the universe. It's all there, man and his body, the elements of nature, the sun and the planets. The Kalashakra Mandala, called Wheel of Time, is the most complete portrayal of the cosmos. It comes from the Buddha's final teachings, laying out his path toward enlightenment. Mandala is actually an alternative universe, really. But then the center of that universe is a kind of divine palace, or a royal palace. And we are used to seeing mandalas in two dimensions, like a geometric diagram. Usually a square, or maybe circles in the square, or maybe sometimes several squares, one within another. But actually, that's the blueprint of a three-dimensional building, or sometimes several buildings, one inside another. When meditating, one must visualize the mandala in its entirety, as well as in its tiniest details. Each cardinal direction corresponds to a color, a facet of the mind, and qualities of being. Through the power of concentration, one can conjure the ideal heavenly palace from the blueprint on the floor, where all the qualities of an enlightened Buddha are gathered. One can then move about freely inside and explore it mentally. This technique consists of creating a mental space where one feels safe and where the mind can blossom. It provides a basis for building principles of sacred architecture in Asia. Bodh Gaya, in North India, is the most important Buddhist pilgrimage site in the world. This is a place where 2,500 years ago, a man named Gotama, after a long spiritual apprenticeship, managed to reach enlightenment. Seated beneath a tree, he became Buddha, the Enlightened One. For the first time, an ordinary human had broken the cycle of death and rebirth and achieved the state of omniscience reserved for gods. It was a political and spiritual that anyone could also become a Buddha. 300 years after the Buddha's death, one of the first stone Buddhist monuments was built around the holy tree. Mahabodhi Temple is a stupa, a mausoleum that houses the relics associated with the Buddha. Sacred architecture in Asia developed with the emergence of the stupa, the emblematic monument of Buddhism, and a sign of recognition for its worshippers. Its form would change in accordance with various countries, schools of thought, and cultures. Because Buddhism developed outside India, where it was born, and spread across the Asian continent in three directions. Circling around the Himalaya Mountains toward China and Korea, all the way to Japan. Toward the Tibetan Plateau, all the way to Mongolia. Toward Myanmar, the gateway to Southeast Asia. When Buddhist missionaries reached Myanmar, the former kingdom of Burma was renowned for its gold and precious gems. Yangon, today's capital of Myanmar, is home to a giant stupa, the world's largest, entirely covered in gold. The stupa is shaped like an upside-down bowl, in memory of the wandering monks who introduced Buddhism to the kingdom. It sits amid a forest of 64 small pagodas that form a sacred enclosure. One of the reasons the Shwedagon is the most important stupa in Myanmar, and so important in the Buddhist world, is tied up in its histories, which are both legendary and also have some foundation in more in historical fact. But the legend here is that the Shwedagon Pagoda houses hair relics of the Buddha. According to legend, the Buddha himself gave two Burmese merchants traveling in India eight strands of his own hair. The hair was carefully brought back to Rangoon by sea, then over land, where it was placed in a specially built stupa. At the time, Burma's capital wasn't Rangoon, but Bagan in the north. In no time, the reputation of the stupa, with its exceptional relics, spread throughout the country. The kings of Bagan offered gifts of massive gold to fund the construction of the small pagodas around the Shwedagon. If we come back and look at the architecture itself and the form of this building, as it stands today, it's very much a representation of some of the core aspects of Buddhist cosmology. So we have a foundational base, the classic sort of eight-sided form, four main sides aligned with the cardinal directions. And as we move up the layers, we move also through a spiritual journey. The different levels of the octagonal base represent the earthly kingdom. Above it, the heavenly kingdom with its different stages of wisdom, which leads to the second-to-top level that corresponds to the accomplishment of the Dharma. And right up at the very top, as we reach the spire, to the final goal which is represented here by all Buddhists, which is actually the void, a final attainment of enlightenment, as we reach that peak at the top of the building. Everywhere you look, there is gold and precious glass. The fact that Buddhism advocates salvation through the renouncement of the material world makes such splendor even more surprising. In Theravada, this branch of Buddhism prevalent in Southeast Asia, the notion of karma is essential. One accumulates merit through acts of giving, including the giving of one's time, and with this, the possibility for better karma in future reincarnations. As we get right to the top, you can see this other decorative element, which is actually called the tea, which is an umbrella. And the umbrella is a symbol also associated with the Buddha, one that is also well recognized throughout Asia as a symbol of royalty, and an umbrella is something that is always seen atop of a royal personage or, in this case, a great spiritual leader. For the tea's most recent renovation, the Burmese donated jewelry, silver, gold and gemstones that were incorporated into the top of the umbrella, composed of 1,065 gold bells. So everywhere we look here, we see everything here is a result of these acts of donation, and all of that has come together in this living environment, which is continually changing as people are renewing not just their own cycles of rebirth, but it's like a physical rebirth of this environment as well. The donations that, in the Shwedagon, are concentrated in one single monument, have taken on a completely different dimension in contact with forceful nature. North of Yongon, Bagan, Burma's ancient royal capital, was the kingdom of Buddha, a fabulous and yet very real vision of the divine world. On this immense plain, inspired architects built over 3,000 sacred edifices, making it the most important site of Buddhist architecture in the world. For us, the inhabitants of Bagan, we've always believed this site was protected by the stupas, which contain relics of the Buddha. They have kept us safe from any danger. Like the kings, common people over the centuries built temples and stupas of all shapes and sizes until they filled the entire plain. On August 24, 2016, there was an earthquake of magnitude 6.8 in Bagan. Around 389 religious edifices were damaged. Earthquakes are a frequent occurrence on this 40-square-kilometer plain. Ancient architects built their monuments with clay bricks, structures that may look fragile but have weathered the test of time. Only the delicately pointed roofs didn't survive the elements. Multiple earthquakes have damaged one of the site's most beautiful architectural gems, the Ananda Temple. But once again, people have restored the monument's original splendor. With its succession of sculpted ornaments depicting the mythical Burmese lion, guardian of the site, Ananda Temple is an architectural synthesis of several beliefs. It was inspired by an Indian temple with its chiseled doors shaped like lotus petals, a symbol of purity. Its six consecutive terraces that represent the mythical peaks of Mount Meru point upward to the Shikara, the tower shrine rising at the top of the monument. From each of the four cardinal points, a hall leads to the center, the holiest spot of the temple. Its design is perfectly symmetrical, a cross in the center of a square, like a mandala. Though today, Bagan is a fragile and priceless archaeological site, it has continued to remain a place of worship that bears witness to the omnipresence of Buddhism in the daily lives of the Burmese. The people and kings of Bagan understood the essential element of Buddhism. They knew everything was ephemeral, and that we must grow old and finally die. A great deal of effort went into building these monuments. But they knew, with all the earthquakes here, that everything would be destroyed sooner or later. Man grappling with unpredictable and destructive nature is also part of the eternal cycle of rebirth. And this seismic plane has become sacred over time. But what happens when Buddhism reaches a land without architecture? North of China in Central Asia lies a huge expanse of Mongolia with its untouched nature. This is the land of nomads. Over the centuries, Buddhism gradually spread across the vast Central Asian steppes, in the wake of merchant caravans carrying silk and spice to the kingdom of the legendary emperor and conqueror, Genghis Khan. This is where he chose to set up his base camp and build the first capital of the Mongol Empire, Karakorum. One hundred and eight immaculate stupas, silent witnesses of a tormented history, trace a square in the middle of the steppe. They encircle the Erdeney Zoo Monastery, the first Buddhist center in Mongolia. The site where Erdeney Zoo is, even before other temples were built, a big, huge gyer was built for the founder, Abbot Aykham, who is the descendant of Genghis Khan. And when he met with Dalai Lama in 1586, he was already stationed in that big gyer. And it was so huge that a regular gyer of nomadic people looked like a toy next to it. Around his gyer, Abbot Aykham built the Erdeney Zoo Monastery, marking the establishment of Buddhism in Mongolia. His huge tent of canvas and wood became a portable monastery that moved across the steppe to spread the word of Buddha. All that's left of Abbot Aykham's gyer are the marks from its foundations, a huge stone circle inside the square enclosure walls, like a mandala. Erdeney Zoo was a very living organism. It really never stopped building. It began with its foundational gyer, followed by building temples. And because it was never really stopped building, it built throughout 16th century, 17th century, 18th century, 19th century, and so on. It has a very variety of interesting architecture, all blended within the compound, enclosed by 108 stupas. Erdeney Zoo owes its name to three jewels. The three zu offered by the Tibetan spiritual leader at the time. Three sacred images depicting the Buddha, for which it was customary to build a temple. In a land with no architectural tradition, Abbot Aykham had to call upon the expertise of renowned artisans from China to provide a home for the priceless treasure. A non-vision in the midst of the steppe, these three temples fashioned upon the model of Chinese palaces line up in perfect symmetry. They proclaim the omnipotence of Khan. In the 18th century, the Khan, now both spiritual and political leader, built the Lavran temple in homage to his Tibetan counterpart. The temple evokes the spiritual and political influence of Tibet through its architecture, derived from the mountain temples of the Himalayan foothills. Unlike the stone temples of Tibet, Lavran temple is built of fired brick and wood. A stupa rises in the center of the monastery. In these northern lands, the stupa is now called a chorten. Its form and its function evolved considerably during the long journey from India to Mongolia. The stupa is usually for lamas, teachers, saints, and for Buddha relics. Here in Mongolia, they also worshiped the patrons of Buddhism and the Khans, who were very important to bring Buddhism to Mongolia. So, Abbot Khan, his grandson, and their queen, they were all enshrined in stupa in this compound. At the start of the 20th century, nearly 1,500 monks prayed in the 65 temples within the walls of Erdene Zu. Mongolia had become a theocracy modeled on Tibet. But in 1939, the Russian invasion of Mongolia sounded the death knell for the monastery. Erdene Zu was the first victim of the unprecedented purge led by communists to eradicate Buddhism. The majority of the monastery's temples were destroyed and the monks executed. In the end, throughout Mongolia, the Soviets would execute 17,000 monks and lamas and would destroy almost every single one of the country's 2,000 temples. Seventy years later, the monastery reopened its doors. The monks and people had found their religion again. The ritual of circumambulation takes place around the 108 stupas enclosing the sacred fortress of Erdene Zu. We're the younger generation, and we've taken over the pursuit of religious activities. Every day for 70 years, the old monks officiated, read sacred texts, prayed and carried out their rituals in secret. Now, we no longer need to hide, and we pray openly every day, especially on holy days. Like every year, the villagers come carrying a priceless bundle. The sacred texts each family hid in their gear during the communist purge to save them from destruction. Rooted for centuries in the Mongolian land, Erdene Zu managed to survive the brutalities of history and the attempt to wipe out the sacred. When Buddhism reached the Far East, its architecture attained a degree of perfection in harmony with the elements. In Japan, people have always communicated with the kami, powerful nature spirits. The encounter between the world of kami and Buddhism gave rise to an unprecedented syncretic architecture. Mount Miwa has always been venerated as the dwelling place of the divinity Okuninushi, the great land master. At the foot of the mountain, the presence of kami is marked by a torii, a symbolic gateway that separates the physical world from the spirit world. Here, in Omiwa Shrine, kami are omnipresent. There are millions of them throughout the archipelago, and they've always been part of the Japanese people's lives. Shinto, or the way of the gods, represents the ensemble of these beliefs and animistic cults. In Japanese beliefs, the mountains, rivers, and sea are all hallowed. We believe the mountains, grass, and trees are filled with life. When we look at the legends, human beings, like nature, are born divinities. And that is why nature and human beings are considered brothers and sisters. In the early days of Shinto beliefs, architecture was limited to small temporary shrines scattered on the mountain. They housed nature spirits that people could visit to worship. When Buddhism reached Japan, the spirit cult transformed into a formal religion, Shintoism. Because it's located on one of the great mountains where kami dwell, Omiwa Shrine has the architectural feature, unlike other shrines, of not having a main building as its central focus. The compound here just has smaller buildings for those who come to pray to the mountain. There is no center building in Omiwa. The mountain itself serves as a sacred shrine. Shintoism has borrowed Buddhist architecture's structures, massive forms, and interconnected volumes. But it invented a new aesthetic style. The buildings are made entirely of natural wood and require constant upkeep and restoration. As in India, the Japanese deities don't like things to look run down. When Japanese people are face to face with nature, they feel everything is alive. They have a keen sense of the cycle of life, being born, growing old, and dying. While Shinto is the pantheistic world of nature spirits, Buddhism places man within the cycle of time. Further north, in Kyoto, former imperial capital of Japan, the thousands of temples built over the centuries have been incorporated into the urban landscape. On the hills north of the city, Daitoku-ji is the most secretive temple in Japan. Its name means Dragon Treasure Mountain. It's a timeless monastic complex built around three large buildings. The only ones open to the public. Around these, 22 private temples form a sort of Buddhist village that sprawls over 23 hectares. Daitoku-ji is a Zen monastery. Zen is the most radical branch of Buddhism. It's a return to basics, getting back to the teachings of Buddha. Here, practice is what matters, and what leads to self-discovery in complete harmony with nature and the divine. Each daily action becomes an active meditation that focuses on the present moment. Zen practices consist of directly attaining the final stage of enlightenment, the gateway to the absolute. In this quest, sound is a primordial tool. The white sand represents the flow of water. And when we reach the ocean, the white sand with an undulating pattern represents waves. Everyone who sees the garden feels something different. But the most important thing is to truly feel it. Because in reality, since it's a dry garden with no flowing water or waterfalls, one must nevertheless be able to hear the sound of water. To do so, one must quiet the heart. Only then can one hear the sound. I've often been told, hear with your eyes and see with your ears. Nature and its observation lie at the heart of Zen practice. The garden is a primordial element in temple design. It's an integral part of the architecture, a meditation aid that must constantly be visible. Nature is reconstructed and enhanced. For Zen monks, the garden is a microcosm. While gravel represents a sea, rocks represent mountains. In the most secluded recesses of Daitoku-ji lies Shinjuan Temple. This late 15th century hermitage was home to great Zen masters who developed the art of tea. Heir to this tradition, Master Yamada Sosho, senior monk of Shinjuan, receives Yoshiaki Nakamura, an architect specialized in tea houses. In Zen, the religious background is purity. That's why we use white wood for the lattices and entirely molded posts. Through an interplay of several modular openings, the temple creates a series of passages between the inside and outside, as if symbolizing the passage between life and death. The architecture is truly splendid. But the question is, what purpose does it serve? It is there to teach future generations. First, so that masters can teach their disciples in young bonzes. For that, we need the best environment. The tea house is the quintessence of Zen-inspired architecture. It must display humility. Ideally, the edifice ought to evoke a simple fisherman's hut. The Shinjuan tea house is an exceptional place, which has welcomed countless famous tea masters. As the path of Zen evolved, the room became more cramped. As we venture deeper inside, we reach a space no bigger than just one or two tatamis in terms of a surface area. This explains why these places put us in an emotional state suitable for Zazen meditation. We are what is most sacred. If we manage to detach ourselves, we attain the sacred. If we cannot detach ourselves, we live in doubt. And that is why we say that the sacred is not something outside, but that we must all become aware of what is sacred within us. We are the sanctuary. I don't know where exactly, maybe it's the heart, or here, or here. I don't know, but in myself, and in you, Mr. Nakamura, there is a sanctuary. Throughout its long journey across Asia, sacred architecture continued to change as it encountered other beliefs, becoming the incarnation of man himself, of nature, and gods, just like the concept of the endless cycle of life and eternal rebirth.