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Maui Shrine lives on

June 27, 2015 / John D. / 0 Comments

Maui Jinja and torii Ray Tsuchiyama has written in with an article which appeared in an edition of Hana Hou!, the magazine of Hawaiian Airlines. Entitled The Last Jinja, it tells the story of the last standing shrine on the island of Maui. When I visited it some ten years ago, it looked forlorn and largely unused. I knew there was an elderly priestess in charge, but Ray’s article below explains the whole history that lies behind the building. It’s a fascinating story.

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Story By: Ray K. Tsuchiyama Ray Tscuhiyama

In the uneasy summer after the Great Tohoku Earthquake three years ago, tormented by the fear of another quake and anxiety about nuclear contamination, my wife and I left our beloved Tokyo. We relocated to Kihei, Maui, a land of sunshine, windsurfers and retirees. Rather than reveling in a stress-free paradise, though, we felt uprooted—disoriented and discontented, immigrants in an alien land. We had lived in Tokyo for two decades; we missed its lights, its restaurants, our circle of friends. We tried to feel grateful to be surrounded by the natural beauty, but in truth our lives felt meaningless.

On a New Year’s Day ﬁve months after the move, we made our way to a weather-beaten old Shinto shrine—the last one left on Maui—perhaps searching for a link to the life we had left behind. The Maui Jinja Mission was different from the bustling, ornate shrines of central Tokyo: It was serene, almost too quiet. Until we met Torako Arine. The then-97-year-old wheeled herself toward us and in booming Japanese welcomed us to her “country shrine” and apologized for its dilapidated state. She called herself “the caretaker,” but the elderly Japanese entering the shrine addressed her as though she were a priestess—which, I soon found out, she was.

The jinja is a ﬁxture on Maui, completed in 1917 to serve the island’s issei (ﬁrst-generation Japanese immigrants). In the 1930s a nisei (second-generation) named Masao Arine left Maui to study Shintoism in Hiroshima. That’s where he met his future bride, coincidentally also from Hawai‘i: Torako was born in Waipahu. The couple arrived on Maui in 1941 to lead the shrine, but their timing couldn’t have been worse; six months later Japan attacked Pearl Harbor.

The honden (Sanctuary) of Maui Jinja

During the war, Shinto was regarded with suspicion, and not without cause: The Japanese government had co-opted the peaceful religion to serve its imperialist agenda. As a result Shinto priests in Hawai‘i suffered terribly. Though he was an Upcountry Maui boy and an American citizen, Masao endured interrogation and incarceration, the sole occupant of a military prison in Ha‘iku. It was left to Torako to care for their six children. Meanwhile, nisei families continued to visit the shrine, especially at New Year’s—at least until the military police nailed the doors shut. They would remain so until Japan surrendered.

After the war, the jinja’s landlord terminated the lease to make way for Maui’s ﬁrst mall, but Masao had saved up from his night job tending bar at the Wailuku Grand Hotel. The multitasking priest and his spouse bought land in Paukukalo, near Wailuku, and planned a major logistical project: They rented a crane to lift the jinja and had it towed two agonizing miles to its current site on Lipo Place. In November 1954, nisei families gathered at the new location surrounded by curious Native Hawaiian children. The couple had deﬁed the odds and preserved both the shrine and the community.

The Worship Hall has a large wooden ema placed above the entrance

When Masao died in 1972, there was no one to take care of the jinja. So at 58 Torako left for Japan to train in Shinto. After, she returned home to Maui and continued her late husband’s mission—a daunting one, as few ordained Shinto priests (barely 7 percent) are women. When I met her that New Year’s Day, I didn’t know anything about her history, about her determination, about how she had become the venerated, spiritual heart of a vanishing nisei community.

She asked whether we lived on Maui, and she must have sensed, I think, the hesitation in my reply. She smiled knowingly and moved on to perform rituals before a simple altar framed by flowers and faded paintings on the walls. She was so conﬁdent, so sure of every step, supremely placid and perfect in a building literally falling apart from salt winds blowing off the northern sea.

Last spring Torako Arine died at age 100. I think often of her smile that New Year’s Day. As I stood on that strange ground under a creaking roof, wrestling with my desire to be somewhere else, I watched an aged priestess in a crumbling shrine carry out ancient rituals with absolute presence. And I’ve never left.

Inside the shrine East meets West in a mix of chairs and traditional offerings

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Ray reports that the community still holds services in the shrine, but that the building is tottering due to lack of funds. It is listed on a Historic Register for the State of Hawaii.

Maui has some awe-inspiring scenery…

… and plenty to be grateful for too.

The mystery of Oiwa (pt 3)

June 27, 2015 / John D. / 9 Comments

Top part of the Domoto Insho torii with reference to Oiwa Jinja and Koiwa Jinja

Top part of the Domoto Insho torii bearing the names of two kami Oiwa and Koiwa (in reference to the large and small sacred rocks)

At the Fushimi-ku Fukakasa Ward Office, I enquired whether they knew anything about Oiwa Jinja. The offices are not very far away from Oiwa Hill, some fifteen minutes by car, so I presumed they’d know about such a striking abandoned site in their area. Oddly enough, they hadn’t heard of the shrine and had to get out a map to track down where it was. When they did, I asked about whose responsibility it was, but they told me that I’d have to go to the Land Deeds Office, where I’d need to pay money and wait for some time.

House of the Oiwa Jinja owner

Since the name and address of the legally responsible person was posted at the shrine, there didn’t seem any point. So first I tried to find a phone number, but it turned out the person was not listed. So then I tried tracking down the address, and though I was able to locate the house there was no one at home. Vexing.

One other line of enquiry occurred to me, which was the Domoto Insho museum. Surely they would have information concerning the artist’s torii and their present situation. So I rang them up and asked what would happen to the two torii now that the shrine had been abandoned. They told me that they had no control over that since the torii were owned by the shrine. I wondered if they intended to contact the owner about preserving them, but apparently there were no such plans.

They checked in their files to see what information there was, and although they had pictures of the torii at the time of the donation, they had little else and no staff who knew about them. To my disappointment, the museum proved to know even less than myself. However, a visit to the museum not only revealed that Domoto was extremely close to his mother, but that he lived with her as an adult and never married. The museum he built for his works at the end of his life has a similar design to the torii and a prominent relief of his mother.

Domoto designed the Domoto Museum himself, with a relief of his mother prominent in the design

Domoto designed the Domoto Museum himself, with a relief of his mother evident in the middle of the photograph

One of the pillars outside the Domoto Museum, with a similar style of design to the torii at Oiwa jinja

I had by now pieced together what I thought may have happened, for my information suggested that one of the torii was donated after Domoto’s mother beseeched the shrine for a cure. The writer of the brochure I’d spoken to suggested the illness was in the upper half of her body, which would be in keeping with the reputation of the shrine for curing lung diseases. It’s possible then that the donation was intended to back up the petition to the kami, or that the mother had been cured and that the torii was given in thanks.

Rabbits and birds, along with human figures, are the main elements in the Domoto motif

The other and grander torii had been donated after the mother’s death, again perhaps in thanks for her long life. On the lower torii were written the dates of a male (70) and a female (95), presumably the ages at which Domoto’s parents had died. The inscription said they were born in the year of the rabbit, which explained the rabbit motif.

Unusually the torii had square legs and the enigmatic design included birds, presumably in reference to tori-i (bird’s roost) and the notion of flight as a vehicle between this world and that of the kami. On the torii was the name of two kami, Oiwa (Big Rock) as well as Koiwa (Little Rock). They were in the same enclosure behind the Worship Hall.

Big Rock and Little Rock, two sacred objects of worship and spirit-bodies for the kami

From my observation there was only one Sanctuary, where unusually alongside the large sacred rock stood another small sacred rock, ‘like a baby’ as my companion put it.

The notion of rocks having babies is an ancient one that goes back into prehistory long before the time of imperial Shinto. Here was yet another indication of an elemental form of Shinto. And the prevalence of otsuka was fascinating, linking the shrine with Fushimi Inari where the stone altars famously cover the hill.

A fanciful notion formed in my mind. Had the Kii clan been part of the incoming Yamato force that marched across the Kii peninsula at the time of Jimmu? And if so, would they not have had Korean origins and be linked with shamanistic rock worship? The route by which some incomers would have arrived, from northern Kyushu and across the Inland Sea, was characterised by a multitude of sacred rocks. And there are several iwakura (sacred rocks) at Fushimi Inari too.

Perhaps then the Kii had settled in the Fukakusa area, and the Fushimi Hill had been their tutelary kami. Perhaps they were ousted by an expanding Hata clan, who claimed the Fushimi Hill as their own with an invented story about a kami appearing there. Perhaps Oiwa Jinja even represented the original form of rock worship in the Kyoto basin, before the appearance of Inari. My fancies were running riot.

I still had two leads to follow up in an attempt to solve the mystery. One was Fushimi Inari, the other the legally responsible owner. I’d had dealings with Fushimi Inari before, and they’d always been most helpful. There is a large team of priests there, some of whom resemble office workers. I’d already learnt that Oiwa Jinja was not a member of Jinja Honcho (Association of Shrines), and neither was Fushimi Inari. It seemed yet another reason to suspect a connection.

The profusion of ‘otsuka’ stone altars is reminiscent of Fushimi Inari

There’s something about the shrine that lingers in the mind, captured here in a photo by Ken Rodgers showing an eerie black entity in the abandoned compound.

The mystery of Oiwa (pt 2)

June 23, 2015 / John D. / 7 Comments

Disused and untended, the shrine buildings have been abandoned to nature

The main part of Oiwa Jinja is the upper section, for it contains the sanctuary with altar and goshintai (spirit-body) of large and small rock. As far as I could tell, this was elemental Shinto as it used to be in ancient times before the religion was co-opted for imperial purposes. Formless and nameless, the kami is here manifest in a natural object that serves as a focus for worship – or used to serve as focus. It suggests a link with prehistoric practice and makes the shrine all the more fascinating.

To the side of the Sanctuary stands another torii decorated by Domoto Insho, together with an impressive avenue of stone lanterns. There are also many examples of the otsuka characteristic of the Inari faith, whereby stone altars with individualised names of the kami are erected by devotees. The names of donors indicated that many belonged to a fraternity named Osaka Tokki Kouchuu.

A notice in the abandoned shrine office gave prices that seemed to date from the Taisho period

The general impression was of a shrine that until very recently had been a flourishing enterprise. A bright red lacquered torii which looked relatively new was dated 1999. A stone lantern bore an even later date, donated in 2014. How had the shrine fallen into such decay?

The abandoned shrine buildings stood forlorn, and on the shuttered shrine office was a small handwritten notice saying that following the departure of the long-serving priest in Nov. 2014, there were no more rituals or services. It was dated Jan 2015, and an address given for someone called Kubo Yoshio, the ‘shukyou houjin’ (person legally responsible).

Along the main approach were more stone altars, and we exited onto a deserted dead-end road and headed downhill, stopping to make enquiries of some farmers. They knew little of the shrine, but thought there was no ujiko (parishioners group). At the bottom of the hill stood a kindergarten, and I wandered in to ask if they could help us. Again they knew little, but they did have a brochure of the area with a brief account of the shrine.

According to the brochure, the shrine was started by the Kii clan mentioned in the Yamashiro fudoki (accounts of ancient times). They had apparently been pushed out of their original Fukakusa area by the Hata clan, who had established a shrine at Fushimi Inari in 711. The Kii relocated southwards to Oiwa Hill, which became their tutelary guardian (hills overlooking areas where clans lived usually became their holy place of worship).

The upper section has another, smaller Domoto torii

The upper section has another, smaller torii designed by artist Domoto Insho

In the Onin War (1467-1477) the shrine had been destroyed and all the records lost. Apparently it stayed that way until the Meiji Restoration, when the Kubo family restored it (still today there are many Kubo living in the adjacent area).

From ancient times the shrine had been known for its power to heal serious illness (especially TB). Those who had come here to pray included the mother of Kyoto artist, Domoto Insho, and this explained the two torii that he had decorated and donated. One had been donated in 1952 when his mother was still alive, and the other in 1963 after she had died.

(An inscription on the back of the larger torii mentioned a male aged 70 and a female aged 95, both born in the year of the rabbit, presumably a reference to Domoto’s parents. On the smaller and later torii is an eerie depiction of a woman with no legs (Japanese spirits are by tradition legless.)

Because the brochure had been produced a few years earlier, there was no reference to the shrine’s difficulties or abandonment. I was eager to learn more, and so rang the author of the brochure who said his informant had been the priest running the shrine, named Tsuji Shozo. However, he had no contact number and no information about whether he was still alive.

This was all very fascinating, but I was intrigued by what happens to shrines that have been abandoned. How and why had it been abandoned, anyway? Perhaps the local ward office would have some answers for me, I reasoned, and headed off to see what they had to say. But what they told me only served to deepen the mystery….

The path up to the upper section of the shrine was attractive and well structured.

The shrine buildings were in a bad state of decay…

Yet the altar was still in pretty good shape.

Behind the altar is the sacred rock that served as the object of worship, together with fox guardians and a small torii

There was another torii carved by Domoto Insho, but not so grand as the one in the lower section

There was another torii decorated by Domoto Insho, but not so grand as the one in the lower section

In the surrounding woods were stone altars with individualised names of Inari.

There were some appealing Inari subshrines too

Judging by the entrance approach to the shrine you'd have no idea that beyond was an abandoned shrine

Judging by this stone lantern approach you’d have no idea that it leads to an abandoned shrine

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For part 3 of the Oiwa mystery, click here.

The mystery of Oiwa (Pt 1)

June 20, 2015 / John D. / 9 Comments

It’s not often you get to play Indiana Jones, but that’s how it felt on a recent excursion to the overgrown Oiwa Jinja for there is something of the feel of Angkor Wat about the abandoned shrine. Oddly, after more than twenty years in the city I’d never come across this exotic gem before. Or even heard of it.

It was Ken Rogers of Kyoto Journal who first drew my attention to the shrine, when he sent me photos of a highly decorated torii he had come across. It was the work of Kyoto artist Doumoto Insho, he said, and stood on the south eastern stretch of the city, on the trail between Fushimi Inari and Momoyama Castle.

Dragon Pond

Surprisingly there is next to no information about the shrine on the internet, even in Japanese. The location on Oiwa Hill was easy to track down, though, and after locating a torii at the base of the hill my partner and I set off on foot to investigate. The path took us away from civilisation and through a thick bamboo forest, the lushest I’ve seen in Kyoto, then into mixed and overgrown woods.

As we approached Dragon Pond (Shirahime Ryujin Okami), the ground grew increasingly soggy and there were ominous signs saying ‘Beware of mamushi’ (poisonous snake). Then after winding uphill, the path took us round a bend to reveal a striking scene. There before us was a Greek-style torii, totally unexpected in this very Japanese setting. Behind it stood dilapidated wooden buildings, their roofs caved in by fallen trees.

The stone lanterns, rock shrines and guardian statues spoke of a once flourishing shrine. Now, however, the forces of nature had started the laborious task of reclaiming them. Neglect and decay were still in their early stages, but clearly the precincts had not received the attention they badly needed.

Fudo Myoo

Looking around, I could see the typical features of Inari shinko (the Inari faith). There were stone altars called otsuka, which bore individualised names of the kami. There were red torii and guardian foxes too, just as at nearby Fushimi Inari.

In the middle of the buildings was a place for misogi (cold water austerities). The overgrown entrance suggested it was more frequented by snakes than ascetics in recent years. Presiding over it all was the ever vigilant Fudo Myoo, solitary sentinel of the now unused facility.

How and when had this marvellous shrine been abandoned, I wondered? How could somewhere so prestigious as to boast a torii from famed artist Domoto Inshou be now so neglected? As we wound our way further up the hill, we discussed the possibilities. What we hadn’t realised, however, was that the main part of the shrine lay up ahead, unseen through the thick woods. What we discovered there only served to deepen the mystery.

The entrance torii looks typically inviting – a gateway into the realm of kami.

The bamboo surrounds were superb

But soon suggestions of neglect began to appear…

…. then a most unexpected scene

The design of the torii was puzzling, and the name too was intriguing - Big Rock (Oiwa) and Little Rock (Koiwa) Shrine.

The design was puzzling, and the name too was intriguing – Big Rock (Oiwa) and Little Rock (Koiwa) Shrine. (photo Ken Rodgers)

Some serious damage had been done…

… and some of the buildings were barely visible

… and the entrance to the misogi waterfall was overgrown and spooky.

Yet all around was evidence of a once flourishing Inari faith.

Click here for part two of the mystery…

Wolf spirit

June 16, 2015 / John D. / 1 Comment

Okuchimakami: The spirit wolves of the Kanto Mountains
By Kevin Short / Special to The Japan News June 16, 2015

One day last week I was doing some research at a nearby Shinto shrine; mapping and measuring the girth of trees and recording species of insects, birds and wildflowers in the shrine’s sacred grove. This was a typical Chinjusha, a local shrine that watches over a particular village. The shrine building itself was small, but was surrounded by huge specimens of chinquapin, cryptomeria, live oaks and momi firs.As is often the case with these chinjusha, there were a half dozen or so small sub-shrines within the precincts. Each of these honors a different kami deity. One particular sub-shrine was guarded by a pair of stone doglike animals. Without thinking I first assumed this to be just another of the ubiquitous Inari shrines, dedicated to an agricultural goddess that has foxes serving as her familiar spirits.

Up close, however, I was surprised to see that the sacred stone was not dedicated to Inari, but instead commemorated a pilgrimage undertaken to the Mitsumine Mountains. Mitsumine, or “Three-peak Mountain,” is a general term referring to a rugged chain in the Chichibu-Sanchi Range, at the headwaters of the Arakawa river in western Saitama Prefecture.

The Mitsumine Mountains, along with Mt. Takao, Mt. Tsukuba, Mt. Oyama and Mt. Mitake, comprise the Kanto region’s premier Reizan, or “Spirit Mountains.” Since ancient times people have made pilgrimages to these mountains, hoping to obtain special blessings and spiritual contentment. More hard-core ascetics, known as yamabushi or shugenja, often spend long periods in the mountains, praying, fasting, running up and down the slopes, and standing underneath thundering waterfalls.

Fox and komainu guardians are common, but a wolf is a rare sight indeed.

Mitsumine Shrine, located just below Myohogadake at the northern edge of the chain, is the main shrine serving the Mitsumine Mountains. According to legend, this shrine was founded about 2,000 years ago by the great hero Yamato Takeru, a son of Emperor Keiko.

Takeru had been dispatched from the capital in the Nara Basin to subdue the rebellious Emishi tribes in the northern Kanto and Tohoku regions. He had completed his mission and was heading back home when he became ensorcelled and lost his way in the mountains. Some wolves appeared from the forest and guided him to safety. Since then, wolves have been considered to be the familiar spirits of the Mitsumine Mountains.

This meant that the doglike stone guardians in front of the little sub-shrine were not foxes at all, but Japanese wolves. Carvings on the pilgrimage stone indicate a dedication date of 1844. At that time, there were still wolves all over Japan. The Japanese wolf or nihon-okami was long considered to be an endemic species different from the familiar gray wolf of Eurasia and North America (C. lupus). Recent genetic research, however, has shown that the Japanese wolves were actually a subspecies of the gray wolf.

The Japanese wolves probably entered the islands from the Korean Peninsula during the last glacial epoch, when sea levels were lower than today and the Tsushima Strait was much narrower. Later, when sea levels rose, the island populations were isolated from those on the continent. As is the case with black bear, wild boar and many of Japan’s native mammals, the isolated island forms became reduced in size.

Like other island mammals, the Yakushima deer is smaller than on the mainland.

The Japanese wolf was once widespread on the islands of Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku, with a separate subspecies, the ezo-okami on Hokkaido. Unfortunately, the wolves began disappearing rapidly when modern traps and hunting rifles were introduced in the late 19th century. The last confirmed observation of a Japanese wolf was a young male killed by hunters in Nara Prefecture in 1905. The Ezo-okami as well was extinct before the turn of the century.

Only six confirmed taxidermy specimens of the Japanese wolf survive today. Three of these are in Japan. One is on permanent display at the National Science Museum in Ueno Park. This specimen is arranged alongside a North American coyote, and the two canids appear to be of about the same size and build.

The spirit wolves of the Kanto Mountains, known as Okuchimakami, are revered by farmers, who believe that a wolf charm will keep deer, wild boar and other destructive animals out of their fields. A charm placed at the entrance to a home is also thought to ward off burglars and prevent fires. In the past villages would pool their resources to send a delegation on a pilgrimage to Mitsumine to offer prayers and bring back charms. This stone most likely commemorates such a pilgrimage.

Short is a naturalist and cultural anthropology professor at Tokyo University of Information Sciences.

Yamaguchi scenic shrine

June 16, 2015 / John D. / 0 Comments

Entrance way to Motonosumi Inari Shrine in Yamaguchi (photo by Mandy Bartok)

Above and below the Yamaguchi plains

by Mandy Bartok

The Japan Times Jun 13, 2015

Three meters above my head, the rectangular offering box of Motonosumi Inari Shrine seems impossibly out of my reach. For the 23rd time, I wind back my arm and attempt to lob my chosen donation between the narrow slats. For the 23rd time, the coin takes on a trajectory I’m certain I didn’t intend … and soars over the torii gate where the box balances and into the road.

“There’s probably a time limit to the luck, you know,” my husband mumbles from somewhere behind me. He, of course, launched his lucky coin into the offering box on the third or fourth try.

A cutified fox statue at the Motonosumi Inari Shrine (courtesy Bartok)

Despite his calm countenance, I can almost hear the tapping of his toes. My daughter, perched on a rock next to him, gives me a glassy-eyed stare of boredom. Even the stone fox statue beside her, an homage to the animal that allegedly convinced a local fisherman to construct this shrine back in 1956, bears a look that feels slightly condemning. Silently, I once again fling both flimsy coin and a string of unkind words at the offering box. This time, the money lands on top of the torii’s main support beam, a slight improvement in my opinion but not close enough.

Until early 2015, Motonosumi Shrine’s main claim to fame was this offering box, one of the most unusually placed of any shrine in the country. Then a CNN Travel article in late March listed this out-of-the-way location in the Nagato region of northern Yamaguchi Prefecture as one of the most beautiful sights in Japan, showcasing photos of its snake-like torii gate tunnel. The once sleepy byways that lead to the seaside shrine have certainly seen an uptick in traffic (though not yet an increase in useful directional signs), but on this late spring morning, the crowds are light enough to allow me innumerable attempts at my donation.

Around the 45th try, I finally hear the coin rattle into the depths of the offering box and pump my fist in victory. Only the unblinking gaze of the stone fox witnesses my accomplishment. My family has apparently long given up hope, already halfway along the twisting path of torii gates.

For a shrine that is only in its 6oth year, the 123 torii that lead to the ocean are clearly showing signs of severe weathering. A stack of new gates, with a fresh coat of vermilion coloring, sits halfway down the 100-meter-long path, primed to be inserted in the tunnel’s numerous gaps. The initial gates were placed here over the course of a decade. However, with the recent media attention, it seems the upgrades will be finished in much less time.

At the end of the torii tunnel, we pick our way carefully across the rocks to view the water. Pockets of what appear to be pink krill swirl around in the slightly rough seas, their lingering path pierced only by the occasional fisherman’s trawler. In a small cove, a diver makes repeated trips down to the ocean floor. We’re a fair distance away but judging from her long-handled knife and the size of the objects she continuously tosses in her floating basket, I’m willing to bet that she’s harvesting sea urchin. Northern Yamaguchi is known for the creamy delicacy and my stomach gives me a pointed reminder that lunch should be the next stop on the itinerary.

The Yamaguchi caves are part of an impressive underground network (photo Bartok)

To our dismay, meal options are few and far between on the hour-long drive from Nagato’s coast to the Mine region in Yamaguchi’s interior. We eventually settle for a quick lunch at one of the massive gift shops lining the approach to Akiyoshi Cave. The room is packed with tour groups and harried servers but our kawara soba, a local specialty consisting of green-tea flavored noodles topped with shredded beef, egg and green onions served on a hot roof tile, cures our food cravings.

If Yamaguchi’s scenery is captivating above the crust of the Earth, it’s equally impressive below it. A narrow cut in the mountainous landscape, reached by a short covered bridge, is the unassuming entrance to what experts credit as the largest limestone cavern in East Asia. While the entire cave system stretches at least 10 km, only a short section of it is open to the public.

We pause just inside the gaping entrance to let our eyes adjust to the dim light. To our left, a handful of sure-footed visitors opts for the “high road,” a trail that runs near the roof of the cavern. With chains and iron studs embedded in the rock, it’s not the route for a family with a preschooler. Instead, we stick to the main path along the subterranean river, spotlights glinting off the glassy surface.

While Akiyoshi Cave boasts the typical stalactites and stalagmites of other subterranean chambers, the pattern of erosion here has created some highly irregular formations. Water gathers in massive indentations in the Hyakumaizara (Hundred Dinner Plates), a set of saucer-like pools. A large open area of terraced puddles resembles the above-ground hillside rice paddies for which it is named. Near the cave’s far entrance, the 15-meter-tall koganebashira (gold pillar), formed over the course of a millennia, towers over us mere mortals below.

Meiji Shrine wine

June 14, 2015 / John D. / 0 Comments

An article in the Japan News focusses on the display of wine at the Meiji Shrine entrance. Historically Shinto has been characterised by the integration of foreign ways (and kami even) into its practice, and here is a relatively recent example.

A Wealth of Wine at Meiji
June 11, 2015 By Takeshi Okimura

Wine barrels are proudly displayed at the entrance to Meiji Shrine

An array of wine barrels placed at the front approach to Meiji Shrine in a wooded area of Shibuya Ward, Tokyo, serves as tangible proof that the beverage has created strong ties with France and served as a bridge for cultural exchange.

To mark the 10th year this year of wine being sent from France, 10 Meiji Shrine priests and maidens will perform court music and dance in Paris and Burgundy beginning Friday. They usually perform on wind and string instruments and dance in a Shinto ritual.

In connection with Emperor Meiji, who promoted embracing many features of Western culture and, in particular, enjoyed wine, the wineries in Burgundy — the No. 1 wine-producing area in France, rivaling Bordeaux — dedicate their product to the shrine every year.

Copyright Yomiuri Shinbun: Meiji Shrine maidens and others practice court music and dance for a performance in France on Monday at Meiji Shrine in Shibuya Ward, Tokyo.

About 180 bottles of wine are gifted from about 60 wineries every December from Burgundy, with luxury brands such as Romanee-Conti included on some occasions.

Sukehiro Hinonishi, who served as a chamberlain to Emperor Meiji, wrote in a memoir that the Emperor was very fond of wine. During that period’s time of civilization and enlightenment, the Emperor proactively assimilated Western food and clothing, and he often enjoyed drinking wine.

After having food and drink with an Imperial Household minister, the Emperor returned to the Imperial Palace and shared a drink with an aide until around 3 a.m., the memoir states. The Emperor sometimes stopped at several places for a drink.

To celebrate the marriage of his sixth daughter, he urged the Empress to ask to have wine poured into her glass, according to the memoir. Another aide also recorded that the Emperor usually had red wine at supper.

The grand torii of Meiji Jingu, the largest of its style in Japan and rebuilt in 1975 with ‘hinoki’ wood from Taiwan. (photo by John Dougill)

In the Meiji era (1868-1912), wine became popular in the Imperial Court and among high-ranking government officials. At the time of the 1877 Satsuma Rebellion, a samurai revolt also known as the Seinan War, the Imperial Family gifted wine to injured soldiers.

Meiji Shrine welcomed a proposal by Yasuhiko Sata, representative of the House of Burgundy in Tokyo and owner of the Chateau de Chailly Hotel-Golf, who took the initiative to arrange wine donations from French wineries. Donations began in 2006.

Representatives of the Confrerie des Chevaliers du Tastevin, a French historical organization to preserve the culture and history of wine, visit Meiji Shrine every year for the dedication ceremony. The dedicated wine bottles are brought to the main building of the shrine and placed there with solemnity, and then a Shinto ritual is conducted for the dedication.

The wine is offered at the Emperor Meiji Memorial Ceremony on July 30 — the anniversary of the Emperor’s death. And on the day of the Grand Shinto Ceremony commemorating the Anniversary of Emperor Meiji’s Birthday on Nov. 3, the wine is served to guests from abroad.

In front of the wine barrels placed in the precincts of Meiji Shrine, sake barrels are placed across the entrance path. “We’d like to think of Emperor Meiji, who promoted internationalization, and cherish the exchange with France while upholding Japanese tradition,” said the deputy chief priest of the shrine, Shigehiro Miyazaki.

■ Meiji Shrine

The shrine is dedicated to the spirits of Emperor Meiji and his wife, Empress Shoken. In the Edo Period (1603-1867), the site had belonged to the Kato family and Ii family, both feudal lord families. In the Meiji era, the shrine was built in 1920 at the site and the inner garden, or Yoyogi Gyoen, which came under the control of the Department of the Imperial Household. The shrine has received the most visitors of any shrine in Japan on New Year’s Day since 1980. During the first three days of this year, about 3.14 million people visited the shrine.

Click here to read about the Meiji Shrine Forest.