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Nikko: Toshogu

September 25, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Polychromed detail at Toshogu Shrine

A syncretic mausoleum
As the centrepiece of Nikko, Toshogu is one of the most famed destinations in Japan. Ornate, colourful, elaborate, it acts as mausoleum for Tokugawa Ieyasu (1543-1616), founder of Japan’s most successful shogunate dynasty,.

Unfortunately for me, my visit happened to coincide with a holiday weekend, so that the shrine was overrun with daytrippers. On the other hand, I was fortunate to have with me the entry from Joseph Cali’s forthcoming book on Shinto Shrines. It not only provides a guide to the physical features, but explains the historical and spiritual background.

“The area is rightly famous for its natural beauty, and long before Ieyasu was enshrined at Toshogu, Nikko was an important center of shugendo mountain asceticism. The origin of the shrine-and-temple complex is the area around Mount Nantai. Together with Mounts Nyoho and Taro, it became one of the three holy mountains of Nikko.”

The original shrine and temple, founded in the eighth century, have evolved into the present-day Futarasan Jinja and Rinno-ji, which stand just next to Toshogu in the woods. Together the three institutions make up the World Heritage Site of Nikko. It’s a must-see for anyone visiting Japan.

Ieyasu's grave, visited by climbing a few hundred steps

Deification of a shogun
Ieyasu’s wish to be enshrined here came at an interesting time in Japan’s religious development, as Cali makes clear. Yoshida Shinto was making an attempt at primacy by denigrating Buddhism as a foreign religion. But Tendai Buddhism based on Mt Hiei came up with a strong counter-theory….

A wish-fulfilling tree at Ieyasu's grave

‘Around the time of Ieyasu’s death,’ writes Cali, ‘the monk Tenkai (1536-1643) devised the doctrine of Ichiijitsu Shinto…. According to this doctrine, Ieyasu is a manifestation of the Buddha in the form of Tosho Daigongen.’ [Gongen is an avatar, in this case a Shinto avatar of a deeper Buddhist reality.]

The first Japanese leader to be posthumously apotheosised was Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-98), at his own command. But with the defeat of his Toyotomi clan at the battle of Sekigahara in 1600, his cult soon fell into desuetude. It was supplanted by the Great Avatar, Illumination of the East, as Ieyasu was posthumously titled ~ Toshu Daigongen.

Work started in earnest in 1634, with a small army of 15,000 people. Two years later, in time for the twentieth anniversary of Ieyasu’s death, the project was completed. Toshogu alone has 42 buildings, while Futarasan Jinja has 23 and Rinno-ji 16 (with a further 22 at the mausoleum of Ieyasu’s grandson, Iemitsu). ‘It represents the greatest expression of power and wealth of any group of structures in Japan,’ comments Cali.

Real elephants or imaginary animals?

Meiji separation
In its desire to differentiate itself from Tokugawa Buddhism, the Meiji government of 1868 decided to artificially make Shinto into a distinct religion. At the syncretic complex of Nikko, they faced a hard task. The temple of Rinno-ji was physically relocated to enforce its separateness, but nonetheless some striking examples of syncretism remain, as Cali’s guide makes clear.

Inside the Shinto torii marking the approach to Toshogu stands a five-storey Buddhist pagoda. Both represent examples of Edo engineering skills. The torii has joints in its crossbeams to allow for movement in case of earthquakes, while the pagoda has a central pillar to provide stability (a feature deployed in the recently constructed Tokyo Skytree, tallest tower in the world and second only in height to Dubai’s Burj Khalifa).

A fearsome Nio guards the gateway

At the entrance to Toshogu is another striking example of syncretism. In place of the usual guardians is a Niomon gate housing the two terrifying figures that guard Buddhist temples. Cali tells us that these were removed to Rinno-ji by the Meiji government, but intriguingly made their way back here in 1897.

Inside is a veritable treasure house of imagery and polychromed patterns. One single gate – the Yomeimon – has more than 500 statues. Taken overall, the shrine has an interesting menagerie of real and imaginary creatures. There’s an elephant done by someone who had clearly never seen a real one. There’s the life cycle of a monkey, which includes the trio of ‘see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil’. And there’s a cat sleeping near some sparrows, which famously symbolises the peace and harmony Ieyasu brought to the realm.

The Tokugawa legacy is exemplified in the sumptuous display of arts that even today continues to draw gasps of astonishment from those who come to visit. Shinto could be said to centre around the ancestral cult of the imperial family, founded by Amaterasu the sun-goddess. Here however is an alternative vision, raised to the founding figure of a shogunate dynasty. Nothing could be further removed from the simplicity of the wooden structures at Ise!

As the saying goes, ‘Never say kekko (wonderful) until you’ve been to Nikko.’

One of the grandest hand-washing basins you're ever likely to see!

Sleeping cat, one of the shrine's famous symbols

Tokugawa splendour: you can't get more sumptuous than that!

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For Cali and Dougill’s guide to Shinto Shrines, see http://www.uhpress.hawaii.edu/p-8926-9780824837136.aspx

Eto (Chinese zodiac)

September 24, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Shrines for the Chinese zodiac at Hakusan Jinja, Hiraizumi

Over the past fortnight I happen to have come across the Chinese zodiac in various guises. A set of 12 small shrines (hokora) for each zodiac year at Hakusan Jinja in Hiraizumi. A full set of 12 zodiac ema (votive tablets) at Toshugu Shrine in Nikko. A set of eight protective Buddhas for the 12 zodiac years at a temple near Utsunomiya. And now back in Kyoto, seven protective kami at my local shrine of Shimogamo.

Now here’s an odd thing: why do the Buddhists have eight protectors, whereas Shimogamo Shrine has seven protective kami? Eight is a number which traditionally signifies limitlessness (as in ‘eight myriad kami’). Seven on the other hand is a magical number, much treasured in Daoism (as in the 7-5-3 festival). Could the numbers have something to do with it?

For an understanding of the Buddhist situation I turned to Mark Schumacher’s excellent onmark website. “The Zodiac’s popularity in Japan peaked during the Edo Era (1600-1868 AD), by which time each of the 12 animals were commonly associated with one of eight Buddhist patron protector deities (four guarding the four cardinal directions and four guarding the four semi-directions; the latter four are each associated with two animals, thus covering all 12 animals). At many Japanese temples even today, visitors can purchase small protective amulets or carvings of their patron Buddhist-Zodiac deity.”

Buddhas for the four directions and four sub-directions cover the 12 different zodiac years (Illustration taken from the onmark website)

The Seven Shinto kami
Given Japan’s syncretic tradition, one might assume that Shinto would simply have eight kami equivalents of the Buddhist deities. However, at Shimogamo that is not the case and the shrine boasts seven ‘hokora’ (small shrines) in front of the main shrine. I’ve been visiting mine (Ushidoshi) for the past fifteen years. Recently I’ve noticed that, following major renovation at Shimogamo, the diagram below has been pinned up to guide worshippers to their relevant birth sign.

The chart tells us that the seven protective kami are as follows;

1) Shikoo no kami (Rabbit and Rooster)                             5) Ookunitama no kami (Snake and Sheep)
2) Oonamuchi no kami (Tiger and Dog)                              6) Oomononushi no kami (Ox and Wild Boar)
3) Yachihako no kami (Dragon and Monkey)                       7) Ookuninushi no kami (Rat)
4) Utsushikunitama no kami (Horse)

Layout of the seven guardian kami

Now it’s difficult to see much rhyme or reason to this. Why do the rat and horse get a kami to themselves? What joins the rabbit and rooster together? And what kind of kami are these figures anyway?

If one looks at the traditional order of the Chinese zodiac, it begins with the rat, followed by ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog and wild boar (pig in the original Chinese). Applying the order to the Shimogamo shrines, as I’ve done in the pictures below shows an interesting paired sequence that runs 2 – 12; 3 – 11; 4 – 10; 5 – 9; 6 – 8. Number 1 and number 7 are singled out, perhaps because they mark the beginning of a half-cycle? Intriguing… or is this simply a red herring?

Puzzled, I made enquiries at the shrine where a miko shrine attendant told me that there were various theories, but no one knew for sure. Later a priest told me over the telephone that the shrines were thought to date back to Heian times, and that the division into seven guardians likely derived from Chinese yin-yang and the 5 elements. The seven protectors were in fact seven different names for one and the same kami: Okuninushii. Perhaps as guardian of the unseen world, he was seen as responsible for whatever spirits guide the zodiac.

Like much else in the Shinto tradition, the original rationale has been lost in the mists of time, but the custom of lives on regardless. After all, only a foreigner would ever think to question it!

The year of the rat (traditionally No. 1)

Ox and Wild boar (nos. 2 + 12)

Tiger and dog (nos. 3 + 11)

Rabbit and rooster (nos. 4 + 11)

Dragon and monkey (nos. 5 + 9)

Snake and sheep (nos. 6 + 8)

Horse (no. 7)

Shimogamo festival (insho kigan)

September 23, 2012 / John D. / 1 Comment

Priests leaving the inner compound where the religious ritual took place

My local shrine in Kyoto, Shimogamo Jinja, happens to be one of the city’s 17 World Heritage ‘properties’. Today it held a festival for used hanko seals at which there was a ritual of some thirty minutes for priests and parishioners followed by a demonstration of how to put on the traditional Junihitoe (12 layered kimono). The elaborate costume was only worn by court ladies, and in this case the wearer was dressed up by two attendants in front of an audience of about 100 people.

The whole session lasted some twenty minutes, and the wearer stood so still with her painted white face that a group of Japanese behind me thought she was a doll and gasped in amazement when she moved.

On goes the first layer...

The arrangement started with thin layers and faint colours, gradually adding thicker and more striking colours. The woman at the front doing the arrangement remained on her knees the whole time, because it would be disrespectful to the aristocrat to stand up before her.

In former ages the number of layers was a signifier of status, and the more one could afford the higher the prestige. At one time the number rose as high as forty, but was later codified with the maximum being 12. Altogether the layers weighed 16 kilos, which when you consider Japanese women even today weigh as little as 45 kilos is a huge weight to be carrying around in 30 degrees of heat!

Intaro, a hanko 'character'

Afterwards there followed one of those curious Japanese incongruities. Inside the precincts was all the courtly elegance of a former age, with gagaku music, layered kimono and shrine aesthetics. The audience then came out to be greeted by one of those annoying cute ‘characters’ that appear at baseball games and other events. I’ve noticed that Shimogamo like other shrines has been trying in recent years to appeal to tourists in diverse manner, but I can’t help feeling that turning to Disney-type tactics in this way is most definitely ‘out of character’!

In contrast to the Disney-style character, the courtly elegance of an earlier age

Putting on one of the underlayers

On goes the final layer

The show is over, unusually in a shrine drawing a round of applause from the audience

Followed by a short dance, complete with fan

A New History of Shinto

September 21, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

The following book review by John Dougill first appeared this summer in Japan Review vol. 24…

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Books on Shinto used to be scarce. Walk into a bookshop and you were lucky to find one at all. If you did, it would be Sokyo Ono’s Shinto (1962). The view it put forward was of a uniquely Japanese tradition that had existed in one form or another since time immemorial and which in Meiji times had been liberated from its Buddhist yoke to return to its original independent role. It’s a view Breen and Teeuwen are eager to challenge in this thought-provoking book. The agenda is made clear in the opening chapter, in which the term ‘Shinto’ is said to have been retrospectively and falsely applied to the distant past. The modern religion is, in short, an invented tradition dating from the 19th century when building national consciousness was a prime concern. ‘The crux of the matter is that kami shrines, myths, and rituals are a great deal older than their conceptualisation as components of Shinto,’ write the authors.

The book impresses throughout for the wealth of detail and depth of research. Much of the information is unavailable elsewhere in English, and the extensive use of primary material enables those without Japanese ability to gain insight into scholarly work in the field. Influential figures are introduced such as folklorist Yanagita Kunio (1875-1962) and scholar Kuroda Toshio (1926-93). The latter argued that there was no such thing as ‘ancient Shinto’ in the sense of an independent religion, since kami worship was subsumed into esoteric Buddhism until Meiji times. Breen and Teeuwen follow in his footsteps but with a difference, since they identify the roots of modern Shinto in the medieval period, particularly the 15th-century thinking of Yoshida Kanetomo. ‘Before Kanetomo’s time, Shinto had no currency in a sense at all recognizable today,’ the authors emphasise.

The Daigengu at Yoshida Shrine, part of the legacy of the 15th century push for dominance

So how about ancient times? How does one explain, for instance, the usage of ‘shintō’ in the Nihon shoki of 720? The argument put forward is that the term was borrowed from the Chinese to refer to such activities as the placation of kami. Practitioners would have had no sense of identification with anything called Shinto; furthermore, the authors suggest, pronunciation at the time was probably jindō and denoted the Buddhist worship of kami. Along with this went a jingi court cult that sought to bolster the emperor and his allies by incorporating shrines and manipulating the mythology. For the authors neither jindō nor jingi can be considered an indigenous tradition, since both inventions were largely based on imported notions. In order to demonstrate this, there then follow historical case studies of a shrine (Hie Taisha), a myth (Amaterasu’s Rock Cave), and a ritual (Daijōsai). These form the heart of the book, and collectively they illustrate how such items have been constantly reinterpreted over time.

The chapter on Hie Shrine forms almost a third of the book, and for all the fascinations (at one time it was the biggest in Japan), one wonders about its selection over Ise given the obvious match with the imperial themes that underlie the other chapters. The authors respond by saying Ise is unrepresentative, though the charge could be more tellingly laid against the choice of ritual which is used only at the time of the emperor’s inauguration. The murky origins and development of Ise offer material well suited to the book’s ‘Alternative Approach’, and with the shikinen sengu rebuilding due for completion in 2013 it would seem an opportunity lost to capitalise on the attention the shrine will get. It would have allowed too for discussion of Watarai Shinto, which is strangely missing from the book.

But this is in no way to detract from the many strengths of the book. Curiously for a history, it provides a particularly useful survey of the contemporary scene, in which the reader learns about such matters as the financing of shrines, the number of visitors, and the percentage of the population that partake in Shinto rites. There’s talk too of the shortcomings of the Jinja Honchō (abbreviated by the authors as NAS – National Association of Shrines), which include a relative lack of concern with environmental matters and an Ise campaign that causes friction with local shrines. The suggestion is of a disconnect between policy makers and ordinary practitioners. Non-mainstream Shinto is also featured, with illuminating sections on Fushimi Inari, the Yasukuni controversy, and Sectarian Shinto. There are important matters discussed here that feature in no other book in English of which I know.

The Golden Rock at Hie Shrine, where worship probably originated

It’s a credit to the New History that it leaves one pondering so many questions. How to explain the Nihon shoki focus on Takami-musubi rather than Amaterasu as instigator of the Descent from Heaven? How come there is a mirror in the imperial palace said to be that of Amaterasu, when the general understanding is that this acts as the goshintai (spirit-body) of Ise? Why do the authors presume ancient usage was jindō rather than shintō? Why aren’t imperial themes celebrated at Fushimi Inari? What is the significance of the ‘golden rock’ at Hie, where worship originated? Why, intriguingly, did a junior member of the shrine set about the chief priest with a metal pipe in the 1990s? And how about Yoshida Kanetomo, who emerges from the book as the virtual founder of Shinto? He comes over as a somewhat dubious figure who drew on esoteric Buddhism and Daoism to promote the Yoshida shrine as pre-eminent in the country at large. He even had the gall to claim that the holy relics of Ise Jingu had miraculously flown to Yoshida hill, then duped an emperor into certifying them.

At the end one can’t help wondering what exactly is this puzzling thing called Shinto. Traditionalists see it in terms of continuity, but for Breen and Teeuwen it’s characterised by change, conflict and construct. ‘Shinto in our view, appears not as the unchanging core of Japan’s national essence, but rather as the unpredictable outcome of an erratic history,’ they write. As such this revisionist book is much in keeping with the work of leading scholars such as Allan Grapard, who has suggested the need to talk of ‘Shintos’ rather than a unified Shinto. It’s a measure of the book’s achievement that it has managed to introduce such scholarly notions in a way that is at once accessible and instructive. Even those sceptical about its claims would have to admit the solidity of the research, and the book renders valuable service by opening up debate about Shinto’s origins to a general readership. Its influence is likely to be long-lasting.

At the end one is left pondering what exactly is this puzzling thing called Shinto?

Sacred trees

September 20, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

This huge sacred ginkgo tree stands in the grounds of a Shingon temple in the middle of Ashikaga City

A.J. Dickinson has kindly drawn attention to the inspiring thoughts below from Shepherd Bliss of the Dominican University of California. They are extracted from a longer article on the nature of trees,
which can be found here….

Shepherd Bliss writes: Years ago I made a promise to try to plant as many trees as I have consumed. That would be a lot of trees, since I have read many books, lived in wooden houses, and used nearly seventy years of toilet paper. Though I have planted hundreds of trees, I may never achieve that goal. Some goals are worthy, even if never achieved. How many trees do you think you have consumed? How many have you planted?

Sacred tree at Kurama, north of Kyoto

The ancient Greek god Pan is one of the divinities who offers blessings to trees. While at the Findhorn Foundation in Scotland I once sat without voice or movement beneath a tree in the woods for hours with the intention of seeing one of the little people. And see one I did…

Have you ever seen a sick forest? It is not a pretty sight. I recently walked in one with forty members of my Veterans’ Writing Group. A blight had struck the eucalyptus forest.

Imagine a world without trees. The Amazon is the Earth’s lungs, along with all the other trees. They make the oxygen we need to survive. Without trees, there would be no humans. Trees bring more than fruit and beauty. They create the oxygen we need to survive.

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Afternoon: Gratitude

Trees protect and provide habitat and comfort. Blessings to them for all that they do.

This unconditional ground on which I recline, looking upward into the sky, always provides.

May we listen to the forest guardians – like poison oak – and keep our human selves and our pollution out of certain areas.

Your ancient air, beneath the infinite sky, infuses all our cells.

Sacred split tree at Omiwa Jinja

May we honor the winged-ones, the four-leggeds, and the crawling ones, including the maligned skunks, vultures, snails, and bats.

Thank you for these outreached branches, strong enough for us to climb and swing from, receiving us. After a day out among the trees, I think that when I get back home I will climb up a couple of my favorite trees. A sturdy wind has bent them downhill and made them even easy for an elder like me to climb into them.

You have not abandoned us. May we not abandon you. You keep us alive, alive, so alive. May we realize that by walking in the woods we are walking in beauty.

Thank you for your perpetual embraces. You give so much – nutrition, cover, beauty, protection, paper, firewood.
Trees are so hardy, yet so fragile.

We eat of your plenty. May we learn to give back more, and take less.

A long, long time ago, after crawling from the sea onto the shore and then moving deeper within the woods, we climbed down from you. We swinging four-leggeds then stood up and became two-leggeds. May we remember the long-ago homes you provided us, and still provide.

Praying to a sacred tree in front of Omiwa haiden

In awe of a sacred tree at Ise

Hiraizumi 2: Mt Kinkei

September 19, 2012 / John D. / 0 Comments

Entrance to Mt Kinkeisan. The grave of Yoshitsune's wife and children stands to the right of the torii.

Tiny Mt Kinkei is a sacred mount and a World Heritage Site. Yet it’s only 96 meters tall and barely noticeable on the Hiraizumi skyline. So why is it so special?

In The Sacred and the Profane, Mircea Eliade writes of the importance of the link between Heaven and Earth, and how the true world is always at the centre – right here, right now. The axis mondi can be erected anywhere and represented by a tree, a mountain, a pole. As the tallest structures on earth, mountains come closest to touching heaven and are therefore often privileged for their sacred quality. For the Pure Land community of Hiraizumi, Mt Kinkei was their sacred focal point.

A sutra container (courtesy of Tokyo National Museum). Sutras were buried so as to preserve them during the age of Mappo, when it was thought teaching would be corrupted.

Mythology grew up around the hill, the most ancient legend being that a golden chicken had been buried as an offering at its summit (hence the name Kin -gold, kei – chicken or cockerel). There were also mounds where Buddhist sutras were buried, and a container made of copper was unearthed in excavations and is displayed at the Tokyo National Museum.

At least one of Hiraizumi’s buildings was purposely aligned to the hill, that being a villa-temple at Muryoku-in. Twice a year the sun sets just behind Kinkeisan, setting it ablaze with colours.

When Basho visited Hiraizumi in ‘The Narrow Road to the Deep North’, he found most of the sites in ruins but the hill remained intact. “I came upon Lord Hidehira’s mansion, which had been utterly reduced to rice-paddies. Mount Kinkeisan alone retained its original shape,” he wrote. It still stands untouched today, away from the bustle of tourists and quietly neglected. When I visited, a lone cicada sang plaintively in the lingering summer heat.

Sacred summit

Believe in the kami!

September 19, 2012 / John D. / 2 Comments

I was driving along a road near Shirakami Sanchi, the mountainous beech forests that straddle Aomori and Akita prefectures, when I happened to notice the above banner by the roadside saying ‘Believe in the kami from your heart’. I’d been thinking to myself how rich the area was in shrines and how this reflected the evident blessings of nature, so my first reaction was to marvel at a most unlikely piece of Shinto propaganda. Almost immediately, however, I realised this must refer to the Christian kami – God.

I’ve raised before the question of why Christians came up with the confusing translation of Kami for God, and remember learning that it was something to do with the Protestant Church after the post-Meiji influx. Historically, the Catholics of the sixteenth and seventeenth century tried a number of terms, which started with Dainichi (causing them to be confused with Buddhists) and moving on to the more reasonable Deus or Dios.

Given the lack of distinction between singular and plural in Japanese, it’s a most curious state of affairs to have two different types of gods/God referred to by the same word. Once a newspaper headline caught my eye saying that Japan should be a ‘kami no kuni’. Since prime minister Mori was forced to resign for using such prewar language, I wondered who had made the headlines in similar manner, only to find out it was a Christian bishop in Kobe – and he certainly wasn’t advocating prewar State Shinto!