Chapter 11
Blue Heaven, Yellow Heaven: The Belief in a New Age
In This Chapter
Introducing millenarian movements
Exploring Taoist millenarianism
Relating Taoist millenarianism to the New Age Movement
I’ll bet you dollars to doughnuts that when you first think of Taoism, you’ll probably come up with things like returning to simplicity or balancing yin and yang before you finally get around to the end of the world and an apocalyptic vision of a new age. And that’s quite understandable. When you read the Tao Te Ching and Chuang Tzu, you have no way of knowing that when the first Taoist communities arose several hundred years after those texts were written, they were organized around a common belief that they’d be leading humankind into a new cosmic era. And even modern Chinese people who visit Taoist temples, hire Taoist priests to preside over family funerals, and attend dramatic public Taoist rituals may not know (or have readily in mind) the utopian, new age roots of the tradition.
Chang Tao-ling’s Way of the Celestial Masters and the kindred Way of Great Peace exemplified a kind of religious movement called millenarianism, which you can actually find in many different traditions all over the world. In this chapter, I discuss “new age” religion in general, and give you a sense of how Taoism fits into the overall “new age” picture. I fill you in on the basic features of millenarian movements, the unique qualities of Taoist millenarianism, and the coincidental adoption of Taoism by the modern Western New Age Movement.
Millenarian Religious Movements
Before we talk about Taoist millenarianism, it would help to have something of a global perspective on the subject. You may see some similarities between Taoist millenarianism and your own tradition or traditions you know well. On the other hand, you may see some significant differences, too.
In this section, I set the stage by talking about millenarianism as a recurring theme in the history of religion. You hear a more precise definition of millenarianism and get to know some of its basic features, learn to recognize millennial traditions that have popped up in the West, and discover the “new age” roots of the modern New Age Movement.
What is millenarianism?
A millennium is a period of a thousand years. You may remember a lot of excitement when the new millennium started in 2000 (even though technically it didn’t really start until 2001!). But in some ways, it doesn’t really matter how long a millennium is and when it starts — if humans only had eight fingers, we’d be less than 30 years away from the fifth millennium c.e. — because when we use the term millennium religiously, it really refers to any extended period of cosmic or divine time. In other words, a religious millennium is a significant era, age, or epoch in the turning of human history.
A millenarian (or millennial) organization (or philosopher or theologian, for that matter) is one that has some version of the belief that a new millennium is about to replace (or has just replaced) an old one, and that its followers have some important role to play in the new era. Millennial beliefs can take a lot of different forms, because what these groups actually mean when they say one age is ending and a new age is coming can have several variations. Here are some of the most common ways of understanding the new millennium:
A literal end of the world: Some traditions teach that the physical world is coming to an end, which they expect will be foreshadowed by major physical catastrophes (like earthquakes or floods) and social upheavals. In many Western traditions, they call this the eschaton or apocalypse. If you watch movies about a “zombie apocalypse,” the description is a good one. They portray an era when the world we know no longer exists and has been replaced by an age of flesh-eating reanimated humans. All zombies aside, apocalyptic millenarians usually believe a new cosmos will eventually be created or that the faithful will experience Rapture and be rewarded in Heaven or some other type of paradise-like existence.
A figurative “end of the world” and a beginning of a new cosmic age: Some traditions teach that the world is about to undergo (or has undergone) a change of such major cosmic significance that the “world as we know it” is, in effect, coming to an end and being replaced by a new cosmic era. They may understand this as precipitated by the second coming of a deity, a transformation of the elements, or even a realignment of the stars. Did you ever hear someone sing that “this is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius”? That was actually a pop version of a common millenarian belief at that time: that a new astrological era was about to begin.
A major social transformation that figuratively creates a “new world”: Some traditions don’t believe that the world is coming to a literal end or that the cosmos is shifting in some earthshaking way, but they do believe that humankind — perhaps because of divine decree, perhaps out of its own natural evolution — is collectively undergoing a transformation of consciousness so momentous that what lies ahead will mark a radical shift from what came before. Sometimes what separates a millennial from a more generic radical reformer is the gravity of the change he imagines and the enthusiasm he brings to that change.
Familiar (and unfamiliar) millenary traditions in the West
One way to help get a handle on Taoist millenarianism is to keep an eye out for millennial tendencies in traditions you already know something about. In its most basic sense, Christianity is a millenary tradition through and through; in fact, any messianic religion, any tradition that is awaiting the arrival or return of a savior, is an example of millenarianism. And then, there are different variants of Christian millenarianism. For example, premillennials believe that the second coming of Jesus will occur before the new age; his presence may serve as a sign that the apocalypse is imminent. On the other hand, postmillennials believe that humans have a divine mandate to transform and reform the world, to prepare it for the second coming. What’s more, some postmillennials call themselves “optimillennialists,” reflecting their optimism that humans will inevitably defeat the forces of evil and prepare the world for the second coming — they view the supposedly pessimistic premillennials as “pessimillennials.” There are even Christian amillennials, who believe that we’re already in the new millennium — it began with the gift of the Holy Spirit at the first Pentecost — and so there’s no need to wait for any new age. Obviously, there can be plenty of competition for the same audience.
And because Christianity picked up its messianism from Judaism — Jews originally imagined a messiah not as a son of God, but as a descendant of King David who would restore the kingdom of Israel — you can also think of Judaism as a millennial tradition, though many Jews have departed significantly from the messianic aspects in recent centuries. Although some branches, like Hasidism, maintain more literal interpretations of the messiah, others think more symbolically about the idea of a “messianic age.” Jewish messianism shows up in some unexpected and creative places, too. For instance, an innovative New York–based Jewish playwright and performance artist, Deb Margolin, performed a touching and funny one-woman monologue titled O Wholly Night and Other Jewish Solecisms, where she related the concept of “waiting for the messiah” to a range of ordinary (but somehow extra-ordinary) life events, from an exhausted couple experiencing an intimate New Year’s moment with a tender jazz dance, to a distraught mother anxiously anticipating her newborn child’s first smile.
As you may imagine or already know, some Christians and Jews are more millennial than others. Here’s a list of some denominations that have an especially millenarian outlook:
Seventh Day Adventists: Non-Adventists know little about this group, which began in the 19th century, beyond that their dietary restrictions and recognized Sabbath day look very Jewish. But Adventists also believe that most of the prophecies about Christ’s “Second Advent” have already come true, which means that his return must also be happening soon.
Jehovah’s Witnesses: Another late 19th-century denomination, the Witnesses believe that the “final days” began about 100 years ago (because of Satan’s presence on Earth), that the world faces imminent destruction, and that God will eventually restore it to a kind of paradise for those who worship correctly.
Unification Church: Known pejoratively for many years as “Moonies,” the Holy Spirit Association for the Unification of World Christianity has gotten more attention for its missionary activity and widely reported group marriages than for any of its particular beliefs. Regardless, they believe that Christ’s second coming will occur during the current era, and that he and his human bride will become parents for all humankind, which will eliminate all traces of original sin.
The People’s Temple: Founded in the 1950s by religious leader and political activist Jim Jones, the People’s Temple was a multiracial community that formed an agricultural commune in Guyana, which was supposed to be the beginning of a new utopian world. The People’s Temple ended tragically in 1978, with mass suicides killing more than 900 people, including many children. The followers swallowed poison mixed with a sweet instant drink — since then, “drinking the Kool-Aid” has become a popular metaphor for being deluded by a charismatic leader.
The Branch Davidians: This small group is primarily known for its nearly two-month standoff with the federal government in 1993, which ultimately left more than 80 people dead, including their leader, David Koresh. What people don’t usually remember is that the group was a breakaway sect from the Seventh Day Adventists, and shared the Adventists’ millennial beliefs. The Davidians still exist today, though they’re still a small group, and there have been repeated struggles over leadership and control of property.
Christian Identity: This is an umbrella term for several American white supremacist groups, whose understanding of armageddon (the final battle between good and evil that will occur during the “end times”) is that it will be a “race war” for control of the United States.
As you may have noticed, many millenarian groups are controversial in the broader community. This actually makes a lot of sense, because such groups usually emerge during trying times, interpret the times as unstable, prophesy the coming of difficult times, or long to return to an imagined golden age of the past, all of which can pose a serious challenge to those who are more invested in the status quo and finding stability in their lives. And although it’s certainly not true of all of them, many millenarian groups do anticipate some type of violent struggle, which also has a tendency to make others get a little nervous. As a result, millenarian groups sometimes try to separate themselves from the mainstream, developing independent, closely knit communities. On the other hand, most millenarians simply don’t last too long or develop ways to “domesticate” their teachings so they can adapt themselves to mainstream culture, perhaps thinking of the new age more as coming sometime in the indefinite future.
More than crystals, incense, and aromatherapy
Because we’re talking about new age movements, maybe we ought to talk for a minute about something in the modern West called the New Age Movement. Perhaps you’ve been to a new age bookstore, or have some friends you think of as kind of “new age-y,” or like to listen to those repetitive (or hypnotic) new age musicians like Enya or the Paul Winter Consort. Mention the New Age Movement to your friends, and they’ll probably think about any or all of the following:
Eclectic spiritual beliefs, perhaps drawn from Native American or Asian traditions, mysticism, goddess worship, astrology, and so forth
Holistic health techniques, like acupuncture, massage, aromatherapy, homeopathy, reflexology, and macrobiotics, among others
Asian-based physical-spiritual practices, like yoga, transcendental meditation, Buddhist Zen or Insight Meditation, t’ai-chi, and ch’i-kung
Exotic objects, like crystals, incense, rock gardens, sand sculpture, glass hummingbirds, and so on
General nonconformity, like alternative dress, liberal (especially feminist) politics, vegetarianism, and suspicion of organized religion
But if you look at this list, there doesn’t seem to be anything really “new age” about it. What most people don’t know is that what we call the New Age Movement actually began in the early 1960s (though its roots go back substantially earlier) as an explicitly millenarian movement, with lots of literature discussing some imminent transformation of human consciousness, sometimes linked to anticipated technological breakthroughs. Some thinkers who are deeply steeped in the movement still think in terms of a coming new age, but most people who have a passing familiarity with the movement — or even dabble in it from time to time — never think of it as millenarian. That’s really quite the irony; the New Age Movement is barely a “new age” movement these days.
The Peaks and Valleys of Taoist Millenarianism
As is the case with many Western traditions, Taoism goes through periods where the millenarian element dominates, and others where you’d scarcely know it was ever a new age movement. So, does that mean that Taoism is or is not a millenarian religion? That’s hard to say. If you talk about the early Way of the Celestial Masters and the Way of Great Peace, you’ll never really understand their social organizations or trademark practices — the healing techniques, the public confession of sins, the priestly hierarchy, the military rebellions — unless you consider the millenarian motivations behind it all. On the other hand, when you look today at monks practicing variations of inner alchemy or priests performing rituals to cajole the protection of a particular spirit, it’s hard to find how those fit with new age ideas. But to some extent, it doesn’t really matter. Just as the idea of the uncarved block might apply to classical Taoist philosophy but not to later Taoist liturgical practices, millenarianism permeates some aspects of religious Taoism but not others (and certainly not the classical texts).
In this section, I take you through the peaks and valleys of Taoist millenarianism, keeping an eye out for moments when it really defined the tradition, but also noting when its role and influence were more subtle. You’ll get a feel for the basic characteristics of Taoist millenarianism, the messianic aspects of that millenarianism, and the marks that it eventually left on Chinese religion in general.
The earmarks of Taoist new age beliefs
The Way of the Celestial Masters and the Way of Great Peace (also known as the Yellow Turbans) shared a basic belief that the prevailing Han Dynasty was beyond moral repair and that the entire social structure needed to be replaced with a radically new one. They didn’t have exactly the same vision — the Celestial Masters imagined the new world as governed by the Covenant of Orthodox Unity, while the Way of Great Peace conceived of it as the human parallel to the cosmic transition from the old “Blue Heaven” period to the new “Yellow Heaven” period — but their general ideas about the new age’s causes, timing, and communal organizations had much in common.
Though the original Celestial Masters community lasted only a couple of generations, and the Yellow Turbans Rebellion ultimately failed (after causing turmoil in much of China), for several hundred years, millenarian ideas and literature still influenced the scattered and regrouped Taoist remnants (occasionally popping up in short-lived rebellions), as well as some of the newly formed self-cultivation cliques. The following themes seem to be the most important and recur most often:
A millenarian calendar: Taoist millennial thinkers envisioned a cycle of eons, each one rising, falling, and giving way to the next in line. Texts from the Highest Purity and Numinous Treasure revelations even give names to the earlier cosmic eras: Draconian Magnificence, Extended Vigor, Vermilion Brilliance, Opening Luminary, and Higher Luminary. Of course, they thought the current one was about to end.
Natural disasters: Taoist millenarian texts warned that the beginning of the end would be marked by disruptions in the weather, floods, massive fires, drought and famine, and widespread illness. The Tao Te Ching may sound may sound like a peaceful plea for returning to simpler times, but the later Taoist millennials really imagined an apocalypse.
Political and social disasters: The millenarians imagined that all the natural disasters would be accompanied by human disasters as well. For every flood or fire, there would also be family collapse, crime, government oppression of the people, unfair trials and punishments, war, and invasions by barbarians.
Dangerous spirits: Taoist millenarians didn’t think all these disasters just happened to spring up out of the blue. They thought that the moral decline of humankind triggered restless, violent actions from spirits of the dead and titanic armies of malevolent demons. This may have been the medieval Taoist equivalent of a zombie apocalypse!
The Kingdom of Great Peace: Most of the Taoist millenarian literature spends more time warning of the apocalypse than describing the new age, but the texts do use the “Great Peace” terminology (that both the Celestial Masters and Yellow Turbans used) to describe the new world. The bits and pieces they offer is that it will contain an egalitarian community of healthy people who had followed the appropriate liturgies, rejected corrupt unorthodox cults, and recruited followers to join the cause.
Traces of Taoist messianism
One aspect of Taoist millenarianism that you probably didn’t anticipate — or maybe you did by this point — is the belief in a messiah, a saving figure who will emerge either just before or at the beginning of the age of Great Peace, to lead the new earthly kingdom. And who was the messiah described in the millenarian literature and awaited by various and sundry Taoists? The name you hear most often is one Li Hung (or Li Chen-chün, Perfected Lord Li). Doesn’t sound familiar? His mythology may or may not have started out this way, but fairly early on, the Taoists identified him with — you guessed it — another form of the deified Lao Tzu. Or more accurately, they equated him with Lord Lao, the personification of the Tao, creator god, and source of many revealed scriptures.
As a messianic figure, Li Hung takes on many of Lao Tzu’s and Lord Lao’s qualities, but it’s especially interesting how some Taoist texts imagine him as having undergone a series of incarnations for the purpose of imparting a sequence of revelations, all of which are supposed to lead up to the final appearance and new age. Though this doesn’t match up particularly well with actual chronology, some texts specify that Li Hung — that is, the upgraded deified Lao Tzu — not only facilitated the beginnings of the universe, but also manifested on Earth at the following times and for the following reasons:
At the end of the Chou Dynasty, in the late 3rd century b.c.e., he appeared on Earth to reveal the Scripture of Great Peace. It’s not clear if the text they meant is the same one (actually two) that exists in the Taoist Canon, but it was almost certainly a new age manifesto.
Sometime after this, he appeared again to reveal the Tao Te Ching. Because we know most of the Tao Te Ching goes back at least a bit earlier, this is one place where we know the chronology to be a little mangled.
In the middle of the 2nd century c.e., he revealed the Orthodox Unity covenant to Chang Tao-ling, officially kicking off the Way of the Celestial Masters Movement.
After this, he became the Buddha, but explained through the Taoist language of postmortem immortality. This didn’t seem to do much for the story, except to take a dig at Buddhism at a time when the two traditions were in competition. Some versions of this story have Li Hung instructing the gatekeeper (the guy who urged him to write the Tao Te Ching) to become the Buddha.
The next rebirth of Li Hung is supposed to occur at the beginning of the new era, in the aftermath of all the disasters (which he himself had supposedly prophesied). And how will Li Hung rule the theocracy, as the manifest Tao and reincarnation of Lao Tzu? Well, they don’t talk much about that. But just when you think this Taoist millenarianism couldn’t be farther from classical Taoism, records seem to indicate that people expecting the Taoist apocalypse believed that Li would govern by non-doing (wu-wei), and that the people would be able to follow through a kind of effortless naturalness, regardless of whatever rules they had to observe and rituals they had to perform.
The legacy of Taoist millenarianism
I think you’d be hard-pressed to say that either of the two existing branches of Chinese Taoism — Orthodox Unity and Complete Perfection — has especially pronounced millenarian aspects. Part of that is that you really need a whole community of followers for any millenarian beliefs to matter much. And with Chinese syncretism, most people simply pick and choose which Taoist resources they find helpful, and that doesn’t usually entail digging into the Canon and pulling out millenarian scriptures! But Taoist millenarianism left its mark on Chinese religion more broadly — some scholars even think that the Chinese have such a natural penchant for thinking in those terms that it will keep coming back in one form or another sooner or later. Regardless, there are some specific ways that you can see the Taoist millenarian or messianic legacy over time:
Imperial legitimacy: Some Chinese dynasties, or individual emperors, justified their rule by claiming messianic authority. Some of them capitalized on having the surname Li, which they could use to assert that they were themselves living incarnations (or descendants) of Li Hong.
Millenarian societies and rebellions: Several later secret societies and rebellions may not have been Taoist per se, but they made some use of ideas from Taoist millenarian texts. Although something like Sun En’s 4th-century rebellion is an obvious example, you may also want to take a look at the 19th-century T’ai-p’ing Rebellion, which actually espoused a garbled version of Christian doctrine and took a highly anti-Taoist (and anti-Buddhist) posture. And yet, they yanked the name Great Peace (t’ai-p’ing) and the whole idea of a new age from Taoism.
Popular (or false) messiahs: Just as Christianity and Judaism have had several times in their respective histories when people claimed to be the messiah, sometimes with the support of many followers (but always rejected by the religious authority at the time), Taoism had its share of Li Hungs showing up within grassroots movements. Many of these self-proclaimed prophets earned both mistrust from the government and scorn from the Celestial Masters leadership, which together could result in execution. Most of these self-styled Li Hungs arose during the first millennium c.e., but one was executed as recently as about 900 years ago.
Absorption into Buddhism millenarianism: In some ways, Taoist millenarianism found expression in Buddhist beliefs and movements, which already had a ready-made messiah built into their doctrine. The Buddhists believed in the coming of the “future Buddha,” a Buddha named Maitreya (Mi-lo, in Chinese) who would come to Earth at a time of moral decline when the Buddha’s wisdom wasn’t being well transmitted. The image of Mi-lo combines with another folk figure, to form an image you’ve probably seen countless times in Chinese restaurants: the pot-bellied laughing Buddha!
From Millenarian Movements to the New Age Movement
Taoism often influenced and was influenced by other Chinese religious traditions, but it hasn’t quite played that same role in America. Although Taoism has prompted Western fascination for at least a century, it’s hard to make a case that it’s had any noticeable influence on the major Western religious traditions. Truth be told, you don’t find many Taoist deities influencing the representations of angels and Catholic saints, or the Taoist concept of Tao changing the way Christian theologians understand God, or much reading of the Tao Te Ching in a Muslim mosque. But if there’s one tradition — using the term loosely — that has been hospitable to Taoism, it would have to be the New Age Movement, which has eagerly gobbled up all sorts of Eastern wisdom, often mixing the ingredients together into a lively spiritual stew. One really fascinating coincidence, which you may not pick up on at first glance, is that the New Age Movement embraced a tradition that began in China as — what else? — a new age movement.
In this section, I talk about Taoism’s place in the contemporary New Age Movement, explaining which Taoist features and practices have (and haven’t) become popular in New Age circles and pointing out an amusing irony about this particular meeting of different traditions.
The place of Taoism and Taoist millenarianism in New Age thought
Because the New Age Movement is more an umbrella catch-all than a specific organized tradition, there isn’t one New Age creed, practice, or service that we can check out to look for Taoist influences. A better approach would simply be to “follow the money” — that is, to look at popular New Age literature or New Age retreat centers and communities (like the Esalen Institute and Breitenbush Hot Springs), and see what sorts of Taoist elements show up with any regularity. Here’s a list of some common New Age Taoist (not Taoist New Age!) themes:
Philosophy of Tao: Many New Age sources embrace the notion of the Tao, though they’ll usually interchange it pretty easily with other “big” ideas like Buddha or brahman (from Hinduism) or “ultimate concern.” They especially seem to like the vague, wordless quality of the Tao, and the way that knowing the Tao translates into a kind of humble simplicity. Gia-fu Feng and Jane English’s popular translation of the Tao Te Ching reflects a New Age reading of the text.
T’ai-chi, chi-kung, and similar practices: If you’re lucky, you can probably find someone at your local church, synagogue, or recreation center to teach you t’ai-chi, but you can pretty much guarantee success if you look at a bulletin board at a New Age bookstore or check the event schedule at a New Age retreat center.
Other vaguely Taoist health practices: Many New Age-ers find the basic philosophy and health-based practice simpatico with a range of Chinese practices that aren’t necessarily (or particularly) Taoist, like acupuncture, feng-shui, and herbalism. They tend to understand all these practices as bound up in a Taoist worldview.
Taoist self-help: New Age workshops often repackage Taoist (and other) teachings into various self-help programs, often borrowing resources from disciplines as far afield as Jungian psychology and physics. One West Coast teacher markets this combination under the name “process work.”
Taoist sex: Well, if not exactly sexual encounter groups, some workshops have a kind of touchy-feely approach, integrating massage and other body work with theories of ch’i or inner alchemy.
In short, the New Age embraces much of what passes as Taoism in the West, mainly a mix of spiritualized classical philosophy, health practices, and variants of t’ai-chi or meditation. It pretty much ignores the more “ethnic” aspects of Taoism, like deities in the Taoist pantheon, rituals on behalf of the dead, and most of the thousand-plus texts in the Taoist Canon. If New Age thinkers know about Taoist millenarian beliefs and cults, those don’t seem to have penetrated into the New Age Taoist consciousness at all.
Two New Age movements without any new age
So why are we even talking about Taoist millenarianism and the New Age Movement if they have nothing to do with each other? Not a bad question. It’s really because the irony is quite delicious. On the one hand, the New Age Movement began as a new age movement, a millenarian philosophy that anticipated a radical transformation of human consciousness, which perhaps might be expressed or symbolized by all the crystals, goddesses, and astrological imagery. But most people, probably even most New Age dabblers and enthusiasts, have no idea — or don’t really care — about the new age history of the movement. Instead, they know the spiritual philosophy, the literature, and the trappings.
And on the other hand, the social history of Taoism in China also began as a new age movement. The successful spread of both the Celestial Masters and the Way of Great Peace owed mainly to their millenarian appeal (and also to their track record on healing, to be fair), and they understood both Lao Tzu and the Tao Te Ching in purely millenarian terms. But similarly, few Chinese, and even fewer Americans, know about these communities and the millennial legacies they left behind.
But somehow, these two de-millennialized (if that’s even a word) phenomena found each other. A loose Western alliance of spiritual thinkers and seekers with largely forgotten millenarian roots has taken an extensive interest in a Chinese tradition with millenarian roots, without knowing about those roots. The New Age Movement and religious Taoism both began as millennialists, but both have mostly left their millennialism behind.