Li Yi, 41, is the chief monk at the Shaolong Taoist Temple in southwest China's Chongqing Municipality (Shaanxi). He gained celebrity status when he began treating some of China’s nouveaux riches, people like Jak Ma Yun, founder of Chinese business-to-business provider alibaba.com, singer Faye Wong, Chinese TV drama director Zhang Jizhong and his China Central Television producer wife, Fan Xinman.

In books and statements, the glitterati repaid him heaping praise on the doctor with the “divine” touch and the power to heal from cancer, reduce stress, and offer step-by-step exercise and diet programmes to give peace and longevity. Using savvy communication techniques, the cleric became a master for some 30,000 followers.

However, the Religious Affairs Department in Chongqing discovered that he faked his curriculum vitae, falsely claiming among other things that he had started studying Taoism at the age of three. In reality, Li did not become a Taoist monk until 2000.

According to the authorities, Li lied about his supernatural powers, like his claim that he can stay underwater without breathing for two hours. Equally, they slammed him for claiming that he could do miracles that turned out to be phony and for getting money from his followers for pricey lessons, diets and exercise regimes.

Now, that Li Yi’s star is shining no more, many of the celebrities who touted his wisdom are turning their back. In the same way, the Religious Affairs Ministry is up in arms. Indeed, Wang Zuoan, head of China's State Administration for Religious Affairs for the past year, told Xinhua that the religious should not seek fame and fortune. Instead, they ought to have a detached and tranquil mind, acquire merits and virtues through study and religious practice, and win respect through knowledge, integrity and character.

As good as Wang’s sermonising may have been, it left out one important detail, namely that Li Yi’s rise to fame was partly due to the Religious Affairs Bureau. In fact, the monk is a former official with China’s official Taoist agency.

“Don't forget the monk was deputy director of the Chinese Taoist Association,” Tsinghua University professor Li Dun said. “He couldn't do so much without the backing of authorities, particularly in areas of religion, where official controls are still so tight. How could you expect the public not to trust someone supported by such high authorities?” he added.

If religion became big business, that is the doing of the Religious Affairs Ministry. Following Deng Xiaoping’s economic reforms, temples, churches and monasteries were called upon to build “socialism” by getting into business.

Once known as oases of peace, silence and prayer, many temples and monasteries have now been overrun by masses of shoppers and tourists. Even at the Shaolin, the monks have turned their monastery into a rich and powerful multinational (See “Shaolin, kung fu monks, become a money making brand,” in AsiaNews, 18 December 2009).

In the end comes the sad realisation that too many Chinese are gullible in religious matters. Yet, there is a positive aspect to it as well, because Li Yi’s fall from grace shows that many mainlanders are seeking peace, harmony and spirituality in a country ruled by materialism for decades. Even the search for longevity and better health through diets and exercise is understandable for so many Chinese lack access to proper health care.