29: Getting spiritual in Singapore
It's my time to shrine
Every faith has a home in Singapore. While the country is officially secular, public holidays are observed for the holy days of Islam, Christianity, Hinduism and Buddhism. Devotees mark these by eating together, which happens to be the unofficial religion of Singapore anyway.
There are plenty of other religions active here, including Judaism, Jainism and Jediism, with its Singlish slogan force be with you can. Consequently, there are all manner of churches, temples and mosques scattered across the city, but it’s the Buddhist ones that have caught my attention.
It’s a far cry from the Anglian tradition that I grew up in. For my entire childhood, our family attended church in Bedford every week. As a youngster, that meant going to Sunday School to play games about sharing and to tap the pads of a primitive drum machine during the songs. As a teenager, I graduated to the Friday night youth service, which was called something chronically uncool like Faith Factor or Salvation Slam. I remember rehearsing a play about how hands could be used for good things or bad things, which certainly sets the adolescent mind racing.
Speaking of which, every summer I would go to Christian holiday camps, where each morning started with five minutes of earnest praying while the rest of the day was spent trying to get noticed by girls. In fact, that’s what I spent the five minutes praying for.
Anyway, it didn’t work. Whereas the babes at Buddhist temples - no, I’m kidding. My point is that 30 years later, those church days are merely a fond but distant memory, while the eastern religions of Singapore have a different and more immediate appeal.
Take the Buddha Tooth Relic temple, pictured above. This being Singapore, it has a vending machine outside, in deference to the county’s other main religion, shopping (see also A vending machine for everything). But inside, it has a distinct air of calm and reflectiveness. Across multiple floors, there are gold-clad chambers containing towering statues and intricate carvings, the hypnotic scent of incense wafting throughout.
Anyone can stroll in and soak up the atmosphere. At certain times, a congregation gathers to chant in the main hall, led by monks with gongs and bells and me on drum machine. Maybe one day. I have no idea what any of it signifies, but it always feels welcoming, and it has become one of my favourite places to visit. On the roof is a secret garden containing the world’s largest prayer wheel. In one of the upper chambers are cushions where visitors can sit to meditate, and the look of serenity on their faces is enviable.
After six years of growing familiarity with Buddhist culture, I’ve started dipping my toe in. Yes, dear readers, I plucked up my courage and bought a keyring from the vending machine. Even more significantly, I’ve started meditating at home each morning. I’m aware that ‘middle-aged white bloke finds Buddhism’ is toe-curlingly clichéd, but I can’t help myself. I would never actually describe myself as Buddhist, but I am perhaps Buddhish.
Just as welcoming are Hindu temples such as Sri Senpaga Vinayagar, one of Singapore’s oldest, dating from the 1850s. Every surface features elaborate gods that wave down at you with their multiple arms. There’s a pit in front of the door where visitors can smash coconuts, which looks like great fun. Services are gleefully noisy, with raucous drumming and droning strings that accompany holy men as they purify the statues with smoke and water. As the ritual intensifies, so does the allure, and you can picture yourself submitting to the reverie like a businessman dancing at a hippy commune.
The last time I visited with my friend Olly we almost took the plunge when we were invited to share their equivalent of the sacrament, but we demurred, suddenly snapping back to our bumbling English selves. Olly bought a Ganesh statue from their little shop, at least. Maybe we’ll partake properly next time. I’ll bring the drum machine.
Until then, my morning meditation is enough to satisfy my spiritual curiosity. If I find enlightenment, I’ll let you know.