Jikjisa Temple, Gimcheon, South Korea
118-50, Jikjisa-gil,
Daehang-myeon, Gimcheon-si, Gyeongsangbuk-do, Republic of Korea
Those who have heard of Jikjisa but
never visited sometimes assume the temple must be connected to the Jikji
— the world's oldest surviving book printed with movable metal type. In fact,
Jikjisa Temple in Gimcheon, nestled in the Hwaksan Mountain range of North
Gyeongsang Province, has no connection to that famous text. The name is
coincidence, nothing more. Jikjisa was founded in 418 CE, the second year of
King Nulji's reign during the Silla Dynasty, by the monk Ado, in accordance
with the teachings of the Seon school of Buddhism. It was restored twice during
the Silla period, and its fortunes held steady into the Confucian era of
Joseon, in part because the temple was designated as the repository for the
placenta vessel of Joseon's second king, Jeongjong — a mark of royal favor that
helped preserve its standing in an age less sympathetic to Buddhism. The temple
is also celebrated as the place where the monk Samyeong, one of the most
revered figures of the mid-Joseon period, took his vows, became a disciple of
the master Sinmuk, and was appointed head monk at the age of thirty.
When Koreans think of the great Buddhist canon, the mind goes almost automatically to the Goryeo Tripitaka housed at Haeinsa. But Jikjisa's own historical records contain a remarkable claim: that a Geunja Daejanggyeong — a Buddhist canon transcribed in gold ink — was produced during the Silla period, long before the Goryeo work was undertaken. No physical evidence of this canon survives, so its existence cannot be confirmed. Yet there is circumstantial reason to take the account seriously. During the turbulent final years of the Later Three Kingdoms period, the Goryeo founder Wang Geon is said to have secured a crucial military victory over Later Baekje with the help of Neungyeo, a senior monk at Jikjisa. In gratitude, Wang Geon extended royal patronage to the temple at the very moment his new dynasty was taking shape. It is plausible, then, that the gold-ink canon from Silla was preserved at Jikjisa precisely because of the temple's status, and that the record of its existence survived there for the same reason.
The layout of Jikjisa follows a horizontal plan, in the manner of Seonunsa in Gochang or Tongdosa in Yangsan, rather than the vertical, stepped arrangement more commonly seen in mountain temples. The two principal halls — Daeungjeon and Birojeon — sit side by side on level ground. Passing through the Iljumun gate, you proceed in turn through the Daehangmun, Geumgangmun, and Sacheonwangmun gates, following a gently curving path that eventually delivers you to the front of Daeungjeon. Once inside the main precinct, the principal halls extend along a ridge to the right in a single line. Daeungjeon itself, the oldest surviving structure within the precinct, was rebuilt in 1735 during the reign of King Yeongjo. The large devotional painting behind the main altar has been designated a national treasure and is among the most significant cultural artifacts the temple holds.
My first visit to Jikjisa came in the
transitional weeks between late spring and early summer. Although the temple
does not sit deep in the mountains, I was struck by an overwhelming sense of
being inside a dense, ancient forest. Thinking back on it now, I believe the
feeling came from the combination of the horizontally arranged halls, the low
garden walls that quietly divide the precinct into distinct rooms, and the
carefully tended gardens visible beyond them. There is also a small waterway —
a channel drawing water from a stream near Birojeon — that has been routed
through the grounds, and this modest addition does something remarkable to the
atmosphere. Water moving through a space changes it. The broad, flat precinct,
which might otherwise have felt featureless and bare, is given shape and rhythm
by the sound and presence of this gentle current. It is one of those details
that seems simple and yet proves, on reflection, to have been thought through
with real care.
At its height, Jikjisa once controlled
landholdings stretching from what is now the Gimcheon courthouse all the way to
the vicinity of the cattle market in Sangju — an enormous domain for a
religious institution. During the Japanese colonial period, temple ordinances
briefly reduced it to a sub-temple of Haeinsa, but Jikjisa recovered its
standing after liberation and today serves as the head temple of the eighth
district among Korea's twenty-five main Buddhist administrative centers. Its
precinct alone covers thirty thousand pyeong, and the forested land
under its stewardship extends to six hundred jeongbo. It is, by any
measure, one of the wealthiest temples in the country.
Perhaps this explains what caught my
eye as I moved through the grounds: the brilliance of the roof tiles, the
vividness of the painted decorations on the eaves and beams. More recent
additions — a modern museum of Buddhist art, a large dharma hall, and the
Mandeokjeon — occupy considerable space within the precinct. These contemporary
buildings could easily have felt intrusive, but they have been handled with
enough restraint that the character of the older temple survives largely intact
around them. For someone like me, who tends to seek out ancient wooden
architecture above all else, Jikjisa is a place I would return to without
hesitation — and that, given my usual preferences, is no small thing.
If you would like to experience a unique side of Korea, the "Land of the Morning Calm," please feel free to reach out. I host small, private guided tours tailored for international visitors.
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