Sunday Shamanism

A few weeks ago, some friends-of-friends living in Seoul came to visit us over President's Day weekend (as a civilian working at the Air Force base, he gets all the US holidays plus the two big Korean ones). So, we visited some of our favorite places around Pohang, including the Dragon Ball Temple (my name for it), the Bouncy House (the kids' name for an inflated house of trampolines), and the beach. We also had an unplanned experience with shamanism after church on Sunday.

David poses for my after-church picture.

Now, our small congregation of internationals (teachers, profs, armed forces) holds services in a fancy 10th floor restaurant across the street from Bukbu Beach (ok, dear Pohang readers, I know it's now called Yongildae Beach). During our service, we could hear loud, traditional-sounding drumming all the way from the beach, which says something about how hard someone was whaling on those things.

The restaurant's "romantic" theme includes some statues,
leading my dad to call this "The Church of the Naked Ladies."  :)

Bukbu Beach from the window of our church.  Jealous?  :)

A look out the window showed the source of the drumming: a small stage with colorful banners and women dancing in traditional hanboks.  Our Korean pastor rolled his eyes when we pointed it out, describing it as a pagan ritual about the god of the sea. Weird. But well worth checking into.

Three drummers drumming, many banners flying, piles of fruit a-waiting,

and a bald shaman lady... shamaning. 

So, after descending the glass elevator and crossing to the beach, we stood alongside the gathering of curious Koreans. I snuck closer to take pictures, envying my friend her telephoto lens. 

Video man and a rub-down lady.

I then saw a traditionally-dressed Korean man taking extensive video with his smartphone, which gave me the confidence to creep closer (and hey, I'm a curious American and it's a public place, so what're they gonna do?). During one part of the ritual, two women in bright robes used long strips of white cloth to vigorously rub down women in line for such treatment. After every few people, the ladies shook out the cloths, perhaps to get rid of the accumulated illness or evil spirits.

I was especially fascinated by the 100 or so women attending the ritual; nearly all were middle-aged or elderly and none were particularly dressed up - their colors were decidedly dull relative to the festive display

This was clearly a religious ritual given all the fruit offerings, candles, chants
and praying hands, but folks were dressed pretty casually.

Later research (ok, mostly Wikipedia) told me that these women hoped for healing and for good fortune during the upcoming fishing season.  This shamanism "dates back to pre-historic times and centers on the belief that all things in the universe have a soul" (Guile, 2004) The shamen/priests, usually women, are called mudang.

The last people in line were men: perhaps fishermen?
They also got the rub-down, but tended to laugh a lot more than
the women receiving the treatment.

I snuck behind the hanging dragon/boat thing to get a picture of women in line
for the rub-down.  I believe the dragon symbolizes the spirit of the sea.
Which I think is the "good guy" in this whole deal.

Upon reflection, I started to wonder about the contrasts and similarities of the shamanism to the Christian worship service we had just left.  I suppose a snapshot view of our own church rituals would befuddle outsiders, too; I can only imagine how the early customers at the restaurant last week viewed our congregation's songs, prayers, and other elements of worship (against the backdrop of the cushy couches, months-old balloons, and naked ladies, of course).  Our mixed group of people from North America, Asia, the Middle East, and Africa would be puzzling, too (and far less easy to research on Wikipedia). I also wondered what gave these shamen rituals such staying power, but given the lack of young people present, I sense this is a dying religion that will become a quaint memory of the olden days.  And that makes me sad, somehow, though I feel somewhat guilty for not rejoicing in the dying of a pagan religion.