I was only a pace or two behind the monk when my crepe paper lotus lantern burst into flame. Oh good grief! What the devil was I to do with this blazing ball of fire in such a sacred setting — an ancient Buddhist temple in Korea — where reverential silence and solemn tread were the watchwords during this dark night pilgrimage. My Templestay was becoming a hazardous experience.

Templestays are all the rage in South Korea, where locals and tourists alike can tuck up into the forest-shrouded environs of hip-and-gable–roofed temples. These places are storehouses of Korean cultural treasures, as well as bastions of traditional Zen meditation and a 1,600-year-old Buddhist philosophy unique to the Korean Peninsula.

There are an astonishing 73 temples dotted throughout South Korea that offer temple stays for Koreans and foreigners; about 18 of them offer stays for individuals. No less surprising is the program’s prosaic beginnings.

In 2002, when Korea hosted the World Cup soccer matches, housing was at a premium, and some temples, noted for their hospitality to those seeking shelter, put up a number of avid fans. Thus Templestays were born, and they have become quite popular, especially with Koreans.

Foreign visitors are most welcome, too, and that’s what I and my gaggle of fellow travelers were doing at the 1,300-year-old Beomeosa Temple. Located outside the port of Busan, in southeast Korea, it’s situated in a lush wisteria-tree forest north of the city.

Monks instruct visitors on temple etiquette.

The word “temple” is deceptive, for the sprawling grounds house numerous temple buildings, as well as 11 hermitages, perched on the hillsides of Geumjeong Mountain.

After we warily trudged up numerous stone stairs and went through three beautifully carved and painted gates, we were welcomed by a dozen volunteers. They cheerfully guided us along a circuitous route to our sleeping/lecture quarters where we would snooze (not much!), participate in various ceremonies, and converse — with the aid of an interpreter — with Chief Instructor Hye Su, the monk who heads the Templestay program at Beomeosa.

The volunteers helped us into the fine gray broadcloth vests and pants also worn by the monks, giggling as they tied strips of the fabric round our ankles to secure the pants and a larger cloth round our waists, lapping the top of the trousers over the wide band. (Disrobing for a bathroom break was quite an event.)

We were then given an etiquette lesson by one of the novice monks: You always take off your shoes before entering any temple building; walk in single- or double-file, as instructed; try to keep silent, imitating the monks; and male and female guests always sleep apart, in separate buildings.

The monks have several sparse meals a day. Next on the agenda was our own monastic repast, rife with instructions and admonitions from Hyu Su, as we sat on cushions around the sides of a long rectangular room with a few volunteers in the center dispensing the food. The fare was vegetarian and very mild, as spices of any kind could act as an aphrodisiac — obviously not the thing in a Buddhist temple.

We each had four dark-brown plastic bowls of varying sizes into which we placed rice, simmered or fried vegetables and seaweed, soup and water. There was a good deal of ritual about which bowl held which item, whether a spoon or chopsticks should be used, silence — the spoken word and the clanking of utensils against dishes were no-no’s — and how you did your own washing up before the bowls were again placed one inside the other, ready for your next meal.

There was little time for contemplation as we were moved along to our next activity, participating in an evening worship service with the monks.

I found it hard to tear my eyes away from the lustrous gold Buddha seated in the lotus position upon the temple’s altar, surrounded by flowers and flickering candles. And, all around the room were intricately carved and painted flowers — abundant in the decor of many temples because of the belief that flowers fall from heaven when the Buddha instructs.

A gentle jab from a volunteer alerted me that I was to follow the actions of the monk in front of the altar who kneeled, slid forward on his face, raised his arms, palms up, to heaven, slid back on his knees, stood and then clasped hands to breastbone.

This went on a number of times, a sonorous chanting filling the elaborate room with a ringing spiritual accord from the monks, and accompanying creaks and groans from my group’s strained ligaments, backs and knees as the constant bobbing and weaving took their toll.

It was a relief to emerge into the crisp night air, slip feet into shoes and stretch cramped muscles.

We trundled, in the usual two-by-two lineup, back to our assigned abode, where a craft session was to take place which could include prayer-bead making, woodblock-print making, stone rubbings, and — for us — the manufacture of delicate lotus lanterns.