Jocelyn goes to Vietnam and experiences Cao Dai, a religion with some three million believers, technocolour temples and a heirarchy of spirits which include William Shakespeare and Joan of Arc.

What sort of person, you might well ask, would establish a religion after a seance and include amongst its saints Shakespeare, Lenin, Joan of Arc and Victor Hugo? The answer lies in Vietnam. In 1919, Ngo Van Chieu, a clerk working in the French colonial administration, had a revelation, during a table moving seance, to found a new faith.

Cao Dai was formally organised in 1926 by Le Van Trung, a wealthy opium smoking mandarin who, overnight, converted to a life of virtue and became its first pope.

Cao Daism combines elements of the world’s major religions and traditional Vietnamese cults of spirits and ancestors. The doctrine embraces the principles of destiny and reincarnation from Buddhism, the ethics of Confucianism and occult practices from Taoism. Islam and Christianity are represented too, and the sect’s organisational structure follows that of the Roman Catholic church with a pope at the head and cardinals and priests. God is represented as an eye in a triangle and this most revered symbol is the dominant feature of all Cao Dai temples.

The faith forbids killing and greed and practises vegetarianism whilst stressing universal peace and brotherhood and kindness towards animals. The followers believe in the use of mediums to communicate with the spiritual world through seances, which accounts for Shakespeare, Joan of Arc, Vladimir Lenin, Victor Hugo and other illustrious figures being included in the August hierarchy of spirits.

Most early followers were Vietnamese civil servants working for the French and the sect had a strong nationalist political character. It spread rapidly in the southern province of Tay Ninh and in the Mekong Delta area. A Cao Dai army was formed in 1943 during the Japanese occupation and after the war the sect became an even more influential and effective force in nationalist politics. It initially supported, but subsequently opposed, Ngo Dinh Diem, premier of South Vietnam, who in 1956 disbanded the Cao Dai army and exiled its pope.

During the Vietnam War, Cao Dais resisted the Viet Cong, resulting in suppression and confiscation of land after renunciation. However, restrictions were lifted in 1985 and now the sect flourishes with around three million adherents and 400 temples.

The Cao Dai headquarters, or Holy See, is in the village of Long Hoa, 95km north west of Saigon near Tay Ninh City. Foremost among the complex of offices and residences is the colourful Great Temple. The two towers at the front of the building are typical of Cao Dai temple design, allowing men and women to enter from different sides.

The portico is supported by columns of entwined dragons, a feature continues inside the flamboyant interior.

Tourist can attend prayers which are held at 6am, 12pm, 6pm and 12am. The midday service is the one you are most likely to attend if you come with a tour group from Ho Chi Minh City. This day tour, organised by the cafés popular with travellers, also includes a visit to the Cu Chi tunnels so you have limited time to look around the Holy See complex.

Being a little cautious as to the behavioural dos and don’ts of an unfamiliar situation, I was relieved when a lay nun explained I should remove my sandals, enter from the left and go to the balcony upstairs where tourists gather to watch the service. I could take photos as long as it didn’t disturb the worshippers.

The temple decor is such a bizarre mix of fantasy and symbolism that it took a while to absorb it all. Two rows of nine garishly coloured columns of twisting dragons went the length of the temple to the sanctuary at the far end. On either side of the hall, blue and white staircases spiralled around two columns up to small pulpits. Above yellow walls, domed ceilings painted blue with white clouds represented the heavens. The tiled floor was a kaleidoscope of patterns and colours. Over each window a metal framework of bright lotus flowers and leaves radiated from the central divine eye.

No less colourful were the priests wearing brilliant red, blue and yellow tunics over white trousers and, depending on seniority, matching turbans, fez-like headwear of triangular hats embroidered with the divine eye. Lay men and women, dressed in white with coloured sashes, sat on the floor between the columns. A group of men plucked stringed instruments to accompany the chanting of the white robed female choir.

It was all a far cry from the sedate and sombre surroundings of my Sunday school days.

Fact File