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Gion Festival (July)

Gion Festival – month long activities through the whole of July

It’s festival time in Kyoto and the city is in full festive mode.  Gion Festival is one of the country’s grandest affairs, lasting a month in all, but at its heart is the procession of floats on July 17th, and the three evenings beforehand when the floats are on display and the streets crowded with onlookers.  Shops put on special displays for the occasion and the atmosphere is like one huge street party.  Tradition mixes with modernity as ‘Gion bayashi’ music pervades the air while girls in yukata shout into their mobile phones and snack on fast food.  This year male yukata seemed more prevalent than previously, and as the weather was good the streets were packed.  The atmosphere is wonderful, with everyone friendly and in good spirits.  Along with the traditonal fare are a few wild surprises….

 

Bikkuri man

The festival started out in the early Heian Period (794-1185) to stop a series of plagues.  It was put on as an entertainment for the kami, to ask for prevention of the pestilence.  Over time it developed into a way for the city’s merchant families and craft guilds to exhibit their goods, with the development of large floats decorated with tapestries, bands of musicians and the opening up of private houses to show their artistic treasures.  Large wheels were added to the floats so that they could be moved, and in the fourteenth century a second storey was added for musicians.  With the development of overseas commerce in the sixteenth century, artworks from China, Persian and even Europe were added.  There are two types of floats: yama consist of pine trees, mikoshi and mannequins, with scenes from Chinese and Japanese history.  Hoko are massive structures, nearly ten tons in weight, which are dragged by teams of up to fifty people.  Getting them round corners is a matter of some skill…

Hoko at the crossroads (Aerial shot on tv in 2010)

The festival is all about fun and displaying Kyoto’s heritage to the world, but the Shinto rituals operating out of Yasaka Shrine remain at its heart.  Buying protection from evil is a vital component, and teams of neighbourhood locals compete to attract customers….

Talisman to ward off evil

Friendly sales staff

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Away from the crowds, the side streets offer amazing displays which make for a quiet festival of their own.  Here are some of the displays one comes across….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shinto on the rise

Jolyon B. Thomas in a review of Shinto books for H-Japan notes the amazing upturn in scholarly and popular interest in Shinto during recent decades. I remember when I first came to Japan, there was one solitary book available in the bookshops – Shinto: The Kami Way by Sokyo Ono, first published in 1962. Now there are numerous books on all aspects of the religion, together with a wealth of material on the internet.

If in a previous generation it was an interest in Zen that brought students to classes on Japanese religions, today that topic is often Shinto. Two major sources of information put Shinto in the minds of our students. On the one hand, Japanese popular culture products pique student curiosity about shrines, kami, and associated myths and rituals. The 2016 anime smash hit Your Name (Kimi no na wa.), for example, features a female protagonist who works as a shrine maiden (miko) in a rural shrine, and several recent televised anime series, such as Red Data Girl and Noragami, feature shrines and kami. Entertainment websites report on tidbits related to shrines and popular media, including a job advertisement for a shrine maiden who will perform memorial services for used plastic figurines in geek Mecca Akihabara, a feature on shrine maiden bikinis, and the promotion of a January 2016 visit of Star Wars: The Force Awakens voice actors and droid star BB-8 to Akagi Shrine in Tokyo to celebrate the box office success of that film. Online fan communities discuss how particular anime series might be related to Shinto, with all of the inaccurate claims and stereotyped depictions one might expect.

On the other hand, Shinto is very much in the news. Regional and domestic debates over the controversial Yasukuni Shrine, proposed changes in protocol regarding imperial succession, and the prospect of constitutional revision have ensured that Shinto has stayed in popular consciousness, especially in East Asia but also farther afield. Prime Minister Abe Shinzō hosted the May 2016 G7 summit at Ise-Shima and had world leaders participate in a tree-planting ceremony near the Ise Shrines. Reportage on the scandals swirling around Abe’s administration (particularly the controversial land deal to Osaka-based education company Moritomo Gakuen) and on the political lobbies supporting his initiatives has often made obligatory reference to Shinto, describing it as “a polytheistic and animist religion native to Japan.”

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See Michael Hoffman’s article for the Japan Times: ‘Is Abe attempting to fuse the church and state?

Prime minister Shinzo Abe visits Ise Jingu on Jan 4 last year.  Photo by Kyodo.

Rock of ages

Opening Amaterasu’s rock cave to let out the light, symbolic of rock’s numinous power

The Shinto shrines I love best are those that originated with sacred rocks. Some are kept out of view, hidden from public gaze as their numinous power might be eroded by human contact. Sometimes the rock is a ‘spirit-body’, visible but fenced off. Some rocks are associated with ancient legends, and some have the ability to heal. Some are given special names, and some are known as ‘mirror rocks’ which reflect the sacred spirit of the sun. Some are distinguished by their striking shape or size. There are rocks too of great physical presence.

Kamikura Jinja with the sacred Gotobiki rock onto which the Kumano kami descended

At Tarobu-gu in Shiga Prefecture a narrow passage leads between two sheer rockfaces, walking through which is said to bring good luck. Kamikura Jinja in Shingu, Wakayama Prefecture, is tucked beneath a huge overhanging rock. At Iwafune Jinja near Osaka there is a whole outcrop of tumbled rocks around which a trail leads to an opening inside which, in yin-yang fashion, stands a sacred phallus.

Opening in the rocks at Okinawa’s most sacred spot, Sefa Utaki

Worship of rocks predates even the most ancient of shrines, yet nowadays they are often overlooked for the formal trappings of imperial Shinto. Worshippers are expected to head for the Haiden (Worship Hall), make a monetary offering, then go to the shrine office and buy an amulet or keepsake. Myself, I head for the sacred rock. Invariably it exudes a sense of spirituality greater than the man-made places of worship. Power spots in Japan resonate with earth energy and are subversive of the established order.

All around the world rock has had the power to move people. Stone circles, pyramids, Easter Island statues, the Black Stone at Mecca, sacred rocks – it seems that ancient people found spiritual power in the apparently inanimate. Something other than synchronicity was clearly at work.

In hippie days it was fashionable in the UK to embrace stone circles such as the magnificent standing stones at Avebury and feel the energy that emanates from them. To those immersed in earth mysteries, they represented geological acupuncture needles which had been carefully placed on ley lines. They radiated with the pulse of a living earth, as if the very vibrations of existence could be felt through their touch. The Druid rites at Stonehenge were similarly concocted in terms of megalithic magic. Clearly the generations who in the past devoted whole lifetimes to putting up such monuments had been inspired by something special, something unseen, and it was only through the solidity of rock that they could express it.

Dowsing for electro-magnetic energy emanating from Avebury rocks

Alan Watts in one of his talks speaks of visitors from outer space revisiting Earth after an interval of millions of years and being astonished to find that the little rock rolling about in space had ‘peopled’. Just as a tree bears fruit and a plant produces flowers, so Earth had given birth to humans – indeed, to all life as we know it. It’s a striking thought, but perhaps it explains why people so often find a spiritual home in rock. We are after all lost little creatures propelled through space in a universe beyond our comprehension, and for comfort we cling for all we’re worth to the rock which is our home.

Mother Earth.

Hawk rock on Shiraishi Island, keeping an eye on the living world

Something about rocks speaks to the eternal and is suggestive of primal origins

Fushimi Inari update

Izumi Hasegawa of Matsue City’s Shusse Inari pays respects at Fushimi Inari

It’s some time since I visited Fushimi Inari, for much as I love it the tourist hordes of recent times are rather off-putting. But when Izumi Hasegawa, priestess of Matsue City’s Shusse Inari, invited me to join her on a visit, I couldn’t let the opportunity slip. It was a delightful occasion and the tourists not too numerous except on the lower slopes where the torii could barely cope with the pressure of those squeezing through.

The main aspects of the wonderful Fushimi Inari have been covered in previous posts, but what caught my attention this time was the very strong outreach by the shrine to cater for foreigners. Ten years ago you wouldn’t have seen a single sign in English. Now they’re everywhere. On the one hand, there are very informative explanations, on the other are attempts to prevent disrespectful and destructive behaviour. As is clear from the picture portrait below, the outing proved very instructive about the effects of mass tourism on sacred space.

The entrance board now gives a clear overview of the five-in-one Inari deity as well as three of the shrine’s festivals (in winter, spring and autumn).

Finding one’s way around has been simplified by bilingual signposts

There are useful bilingual maps too covering the whole hillside

Remarkably there’s even an open invitation to explain things in English. Some can’t wait to get to hear it….

Worshippers are more colourful than they used to be…

…. though posing rather than worshipping is the name of the game for some

The shrine office was doing such brisk business it felt under siege.

For some a fox mask was a necessary accessory

Filing up the torii tunnel was a bit of a squeeze…

It used to be you had to choose the right way for yourself. ‘Which way is the right way,’ asked Bilbo. ‘All ways are the right way,’ answered Gandalf.

These days ema have an International touch…

…. some with a pagan feel as well

Things that once were puzzling are now fiscally clear…

… and here are the wish papers bound on the fence and cheaper than the usual ema

Other notices were more terse and reflected unwanted behaviour…

…no shoes on tatami…

… and no sitting on steps meant for worshippers

One of the many subshrines had some interesting ofuda hanging from a bamboo torii. Foreign influence?

Up at the top there were plenty of fox statues, but this sign suggested other animals were worshipping here too

Some of the sub shrines went out of their way to explain themselves, a far cry from the insular attitude of twenty years ago. The sacred rock, the shrine’s main object of worship, can be seen below…

The subshrine’s main object of worship, the Kaminari Ishi (Lightning Rock), clearly cleft in two by a sanctifying bolt from the heavens

Without this notice, foreign visitors would have completely missed the point of the dolls in the next picture…

the match-making dolls come in a set of three: husband, wife and attendant. It makes for a harmonious match!

By the time we got back down, it was near dusk and tourist crowds had already headed home. Here Izumi celebrates having visited the ‘top tourist landmark in Japan’, according to TripAdvisor

Mark Teeuwen on Ise Jingu

The main shrine at Ise, known as Naiku

Leading Shinto scholar Mark Teeuwen, has written several influential books on matters related to Japan’s indigenous faith. He’s known in particular for disputing the idea that there was such a thing as ‘Shinto’ in Japan’s ancient past, but that it was a later construct. His new publication, A Social History of the Ise Shrines, co-written with John Breen, has proved ground-breaking in terms of English language works on the subject. It was a great delight therefore to hear him talk last Sunday on the changes Ise has been through in its long history.

The Dutch scholar Mark Teeuwen, currently professor at the University of Oslo

First some interesting statistics. The Ise complex comprises 125 shrines. There are 120 priests (nearly ten times more than at other major shrines) and 500 auxiliary staff. The shrine owns forests as far away as Kyushu, has four museums as well as offices, educational facilities and residences, in addition to which it hosts facilities to produce rice, salt, timber etc. In short, this is a major enterprise, which moreover is committed to a twenty-year rebuilding cycle estimated to cost 57 billion yen. Small wonder that it needs substantial income, for since the end of World War Two it has been stripped of state support. It comes as little surprise then to learn that the Association of Ise Worshippers is headed by the ex-president of Toyota and that the top ranks are filled with big business magnates.Visitors to Ise may think it’s all about trees and wood, but money is a major concern!

The twenty year rebuilding cycle brings with it renewed focus and a surge of tourism. A comparison of 1993 and 2013 is instructive in this respect. Given that 9 million visitors in 2014 descended on a town of only 130,000, the management of shrine visitors and tourism is a consideration for local residents, and in 1993 much attention was given to a new motorway to the area. At the same time there were protests and even bombs against the imperial trappings and reenforcement of state ties. These were much more evident in 2013, when prime minister Shinzo Abe and eight of his cabinet ministers attended the sengyo no gi rite, in which the sacred mirror of Amaterasu is transferred from the old shrine to the new. The last time a prime minister had attended was in 1929 during the time of State Shinto, yet this won almost no attention in the mass media or from the populace at large. One wonders if it reflects political apathy, or perhaps it is simply an illustration of the drift to the right which has happened under Abe.

A Jinja Honcho campaign to go and worship at Ise

Standard descriptions of Ise like to suggest it has always been supreme and a centre of imperial worship. Mark T. however showed that this was far from the truth, and he identified six major historical periods with quite different values and business models. The shrine dates back to the late seventh century when an angry deity named Amateru (sic) disrupted the imperial household and was ejected, ending up at Ise. Mark T. believes that at this time the deity was male, and that it was only under the influence of Empress Jito (r.686-697) that the deity was feminised by Kojiki mythologisers in her honour (there are parallels between Amaterasu’s son and grandson with those of Jito).

During its subsequent history Ise took many guises. It came as a surprise to learn that at one time it was the seat of Enma, lord of the underworld, and indulgences were sold so as to avoid going to hell. At another time it was closely associated with the samurai (the court made pilgrimages to Kumano instead). Shop councils and inn keepers promoted the pilgrimage business through prayer masters called oshi, and the millions of Edo-era pilgrims who headed for the Outer Shrine were concerned with enjoyment and praying for agricultural success. There was little if any awareness of the emperor at the time, for the Tokugawa were all-powerful (and Ieyasu deified). Only with the development of the Kokugaku movement in the later Edo Period was there a revival in sentiment for the emperor.

It was the Meiji Period which brought major changes to Ise. The era is associated now with ‘the invention of tradition’, and Ise provides a striking example as it was transformed into the ancestral shrine of the emperor and given primacy in religious terms. For a start the oshi business, which had long sustained Ise, was banned. Hereditary priests were ousted and appointees installed. Fences were put up and shrines rearranged in a more rational and imperial manner. The Outer Shrine, for example whose deity was Amenonakanushi, lord of creation, was recast as sanctuary of a food deity serving Amaterasu,

Part of the rebranding was to have the emperor make personal visits to Ise as his ancestral shrine and  Emperor Meiji is said to have visited four times. Far from following tradition, he was in fact starting a new ‘tradition’ for no emperor had ever visited the shrine before (Empress Jito in the eighth century is said in the Kojiki to have visited ‘Ise Province’). At the same time throughout Japan shrines were amalgamated, mirrors added, and imperial ancestors installed as kami to replace the old gods. In this way Ise came to take its present form as head of an emperor-centred ideology, and despite the change from nationalised institution to private after WW2, essentially nothing has changed. Still today most of the resources of the Association of Shrines (Jinja Honcho) go into supporting Ise’s primacy, even to the extent of passing on money from poorer shrines (some close to bankrupt).

There is no dogma in Shinto, noted Mark, though Jinja Honcho has one clear dogma: Ise is supreme.

Mark (right) putting over a point in his fact-filled overview of Ise’s many historical guises

In contrast to the solemnity nowadays, Edo-era pilgrims were bent on enjoying themselves and even took pets along, if this officially sanctioned picture is to be believed. The humorous saying, ‘You should take advantage of the Ise pilgrimage to drop in at Ise too’ shows that other matters held priority.

Myth and Near Myth

Izanagi and Izanami stirring the primordial liquid to create Japan. In one version of the myth, Izanami dies and her corpse decays, in another version she mothers Amaterasu and her two brothers.

Last Monday David Lurie of Columbia University gave a talk in Kyoto about ‘Dead Goddesses and Living Narratives’. It centred around the differences between the Kojiki (712) and Nihon Shoki (720). As is well-known, the two books cover similar myths but in different ways. The Kojiki is more of a straightforward official narrative, whereas the Nihon Shoki attempts to be more historical by providing alternative versions of the same story. These variants are only given for the first two books of the Nihon Shoki dealing with the Age of the Gods, following which the narrative takes a more historical tone with annal-style dates and records.

One important point the speaker pointed out is that the myths were written in a Buddhist age about a pre-Buddhist past. One needs therefore to view them through that prism. In the Kojiki, the narrative is strung together by genealogy, and the structure is broken into three different parts. The first deals with Japan’s creation, the birth of gods, the struggle with Earthly deities who finally yield, and the descent of Ninigi no mikoto (an event known as tenson korin). The second part deals with the exploits of legendary Emperor Jimmu, Japan’s first human emperor, and the third part with his successors.

Susanoo slaying the eight-headed serpent

The Kojiki narrative is in places at variance with the Nihon Shoki, which is odd considering they were both apparently court sanctioned. The death of Izanami provides an example. In the Kojiki the decay of her corpse gives rise to all kinds of new deities and creativity. In the Nihon Shoki there is no such death (and there is no afterworld, or yomi, either). Moreover, in the former Amaterasu and her two brothers, Tsukuyomi and Susanoo no mikoto are born by pathogenesis from Izanagi’s eyes and nose after he does misogi. In the latter they are born through straightforward copulation, since Izanami has not died. In this respect you could say the Kojiki version is magical, the Nihon Shoki more rational.

Another big difference comes in the Izumo cycle, where in Kojiki Susanoo slays Ogetsuhime (Lady Great Sustenance) when he realises that she has made food for him from her bodily cavities, including from her rear. It’s a mythic story that not only explains the origin of foodstuff through the cycle of decay and rebirth but the beginnings of silkworm, which emanate from her head after she dies. (The higher the cultural value, the higher the part of the body from which it emerges.)

In Nihon Shoki there is instead Ukemochi (Food Provider) who is killed by Tsukuyomi, the moon god. This enrages Amaterasu, who exiles him to nighttime and darkness. In this story the silkworm derive from Ukemochi’s eyebrows, following which Amaterasu fosters them in her mouth and initiates the practice of sericulture, which was an important part of Japanese culture right into modern times (silk was the number one export of Meiji Japan).

How does one explain these discrepancies? The standard line is that Kojiki was written as a narrative myth to legitimate the ruling family, while Nihon Shoki was more of a Chinese-style history for official purposes. In other words, the former was a private family affair, the latter a public national record. David Lurie suggested too that in contrast to Nihon Shoki with its team of workers, the Kojiki may have been a private project of O no Yasunoro, who only won official recognition after its completion. Since it was written before Nihon Shoki, the court historians made use of it in their own compilation, and it is usually included as one of the several variants for each story (usually variant no. 6).

Izanagi undergoes the primal misogi which led to the birth of Amaterasu, Susanoo and Tsukuyomi in the Kojiki version of the myth

One postscript from this. I’ve long been puzzled by the relative absence of the moon god Tsukuyomi from Japan’s shrine deities. Given the significance of the moon in Japanese culture, one might imagine he would play an important balancing role to the sun goddess. One theory I’ve come across to explain his obscurity is that he may have been the deity of a rival clan to the Yamato, and was therefore suppressed. However, David Lurie mentioned two other interesting possibilities. One was that Susanoo was in fact originally the moon god but was later split off as a separate character. The other was that the moon-god was simply an invention for yin-yang purposes and that he was inserted into the text to take over part of Susanoo’s role.

All in all, one came away from the evening thinking there is more to myth than one might think. Those clever historians of the late seventh and early eighth centuries had great talent and vivid imaginations!

Early Shinto

Kami worship in a woodland clearing is believed to have been the origins of today’s Munakata Taisha

Travel around modern Japan, and the shaping of the country’s spirituality is still very much evident in the villages that nestle in the valley basins. Fertile land is at a premium, so houses tend to be packed together. A system of channels and conduits steer the clear flowing water down through the rice fields. Graves are set apart from the houses, edging up the lower slopes of the hillsides. Above them hovers a dark and unseen world, hidden by a canopy of trees.

Model depicting the rice-growing communities of Yayoi times

The rice-farming communities of Yayoi times (300 BC–250 AD) settled along these river basins, and the abundance of life-sustaining water which gushed down from the mountains must have seemed truly a gift from heaven. Wet-rice production necessitated village cooperation at planting and harvesting times, and the collaborative effort was reflected in communal rites and festivals. Since rice was susceptible to the elements, requests were made for protection as the agricultural cycle began and gratitude offered as it came to an end. The sultry climate with its fetid humidity encouraged too an emphasis on cleanliness, which was made into an article of faith.

Around the settlements, on the lower slopes of the hillsides, lay an area for the dead. Ancestral spirits thus became an intermediary between human settlements and the wooded hilltops in which loomed monsters, tengu and terrifying animals. In this way the Japanese mind became imbued with a legion of otherworldly spirits, a legacy that still evident in the popular culture of today’s secular society.

Over 70% of the archipelago is covered in mountains, and even today a remarkable 67% of the country comprises woodland. The beauty of the natural features inspired a sense of divinity, together with an acute awareness of its volatility for Japan is a land of earthquakes, typhoons and tsunami. On top of that, about one-third of its 188 volcanoes remain active and likely to erupt at any time. In the face of such destructive forces, placating the spirits that govern them became a matter of vital importance.

The mountain peaks which spoke of other worlds gave rise to the notion of a sacred realm off-limits to ordinary humans. Certain sites such as Mt Fuji which resonated with a numinous presence became the objects of local lore and places of ritual. Waterfalls for instance embody the universal energy which emanates from them. Particular rocks and trees, especially those with striking features, were singled out as vessels into which spirits descend, symbolic entities which represent the life-force. Shinto in this sense can be said to be more kami worship than nature worship. It’s not the sun that’s worshipped. It’s the spirit in the sun.

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The above is an extract from a work in progress, tentatively titled Within the Mirror.

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