(Dear readers, I wanted to try and summarize the Pure Land Buddhist teachings in Ukrainian. There isn’t much information, so I wrote this post for Ukrainian audiences. It summarizes teachings from other posts. Thank you for your patience)
Привіт, я радий мати українських читачів, які цікавляться буддизмом. Тому я хотів написати цей блог саме для українців. Зверніть увагу, я трохи вивчив українську, але точно недостатньо, щоб писати блог. Тому мені доводиться часто користуватися Google Translate. Вибачте за будь-які помилки. Насолоджуйтесь цим постом і слава Україні
Буддизм Чистої Землі є вірною традицією в буддизмі. Багато людей в Азії та світі дотримуються буддизму Чистої Землі. Це просто, легко зрозуміти та легко застосувати на практиці. Для цього не потрібен ні гуру, ні храм. Ви можете почати як зараз.
За словами Будди Шак’ямуні, життя подібне до річки. На цьому березі розбрат, розчарування, невігластво, страх і так далі. На іншому березі — мир, доброзичливість і задоволення. Таким чином, буддизм вчить, як перепливти цю річку на інший берег.
Крім того, Будда Шак’ямуні навчив багатьох методів і «інструментів», щоб перетнути річку. Різні люди вважають за краще використовувати різні інструменти, але всі вони будують плоти, щоб переплисти річку. Буддизм чистої землі є одним із інструментів.
Примітка: Про буддизм Чистої Землі я дізнався через японську секту «Джодо Шу» (じょうどしゅう, 浄土宗). Отже, я використовую японсько-буддійські терміни. Інші буддистські країни використовують інші терміни, але основне вчення те саме.
Аміда Будда — легендарний, або космічний, Будда, який обіцяє допомогти всім істотам дістатися іншого берега. Аміда Будда кличе людей зі своєї Чистої Землі, яка є притулком. Цей притулок доступний для всіх людей, ким би вони не були, якщо вони просто продекламують Нембуцу (ねんぶつ, 念佛).
Що таке нембуцу?
Нембуцу означає такі речі, як «думати про Будду» або «прославляти Будду» тощо. Зазвичай люди декламують нембуцу усно.
Японською мовою це вимовляється як наму аміда буцу (なむあみだぶつ, 南無阿弥陀仏).
У буддизмі існує священний текст під назвою Сутра безмежного життя, також відомий як Велика сутра Сухаватівюха. Ця сутра представляє Аміду Будду та його походження.
Давним-давно Аміда Будда був королем, який зустрів іншого Будду. Вчення Будди справило на нього таке враження, що він зрікся престолу і став буддійським ченцем. Він поклявся допомагати всім живим істотам, створивши безпечну гавань під назвою Сукхаваті («Остання радість»), а також став Буддою.
Це «Мандала Тайма», японсько-буддійський твір мистецтва VIII століття. Він показує Чисту землю Аміди Будди.
Цих обітниць насправді було 48 обітниць. 18-й обітниця є найважливішою. Це простий переклад:
Коли я стану Буддою, розумні істоти в усіх напрямках, які хочуть народитися в моїй Чистій Землі, повинні просто сказати моє ім’я принаймні 10 разів, і вони там народяться. Якщо це неправда, нехай я не стану Буддою.
Таким чином, якщо світ надто складний або людина не може слідувати традиційним буддійським шляхом, можна вибрати переродження в Чистій землі, промовляючи Нембуцу (наму аміда буцу). Це особистий вибір.
Засновник секти «Джодо Шу» Хонен (法然, 1133 – 1212) описав співчуття Аміди Будди як місячне світло. Він сяє скрізь, але лише деякі дивляться вгору:
Японською
Коваленко
Переклад
月かげの
цукі kaґе но
Немає такого села,
いたらぬ里は
ітарану сато ва
де б не світило
なけれども
накередомо
місячне світло,
眺むる人の
наґамуру хіто но
але воно живе в серцях тих,
心にぞすむ
кокоро ні дзосуму
хто його бачить.
Так само в Сутрі безмежного життя є така цитата:
Якщо розумні істоти стикаються зі світлом Аміди Будди, їх три скверни усуваються; вони відчувають ніжність, радість і насолоду; і виникають добрі думки.
Але чим буддизм чистої землі відрізняється від християнства?
Фундаментальне вчення все ще є буддійським: живі істоти повинні «перепливти річку», щоб досягти короткого просвітлення. Аміда Будда просто допомагає на цьому шляху.
У VII столітті в Китаї жив чернець на ім’я Шандао (善導, 613–681). Він написав відому притчу під назвою «Притча про дві річки та білий міст». Ви можете побачити приклад ілюстрації нижче:
Підсумовуючи, притча вчить, що на цьому березі Будда Шак’ямуні вказує на міст. На іншому березі річки Аміда Будда кличе нас перепливти. Шлях вузький, але якщо ви прислухаєтесь до слів Будди Шак’ямуні та заклику Будди Аміди, ви пройдете безпечно.
Це базовий вступ до буддизму Чистої Землі, особливо до секти Джодо Шу. Якщо ви цікавитеся буддизмом, але відчуваєте розгубленість або самотність, просто спробуйте продекламувати Нембуцу. В якості основи використовуйте нембуцу.
У секті Джодо Шу існує традиція декламації нембуцу під назвою цзюнен (じゅうねん, 十念, «десять декламацій»). Звучить так:
наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда бу наму аміда буцу наму аміда бу
Дев’ята декламація має додаткове “цу” в кінці. Крім того, люди зводять руки разом у молитві, коли вимовляють нембуцу. Це називається «гасшо».
Ви можете побачити приклад тут, у храмі Зодзідзі в Токіо, Японія:
Вибачте, що мені довелося скористатися Google Translate, але я сподіваюся, що ви знайшли щось корисне, і я сподіваюся, що побачите світло Аміди Будди.
The Japanese-Buddhist holiday of Ohigan is fast approaching, and I haven’t written about it in years (!), so I felt like posting about it today.
Ohigan (お彼岸, “the other Shore”) started with the pious 8th-century emperor Shomu. The name implies crossing over from this shore, which is comprised of greed, anger, desired, pain, frustration, strife, etc, etc., the usual nonsense. Contrast that with the “other shore” in Buddhism which symbolizes peace, contentment, freedom from harm, fear, conflict, etc. Because Ohigan is observed both at the Spring and Autumnal equinoxes, this is a time when the weather is mild, and so people can slow down and re-commit to the Buddhist path.1 Given how climate change is affecting the weather, this point is not lost on us today either.
Ages and ages ago, quotations of the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni (a.k.a. Siddhartha Gautama) were collected in India in a text called the Dhammapada. Despite the centuries gap between what the Buddha said, and what was recorded later, the Dhammpada probably represents one of the very oldest texts, and the closest to the historical Buddha that we’ll ever get. It’s short, easy to digest, and has lots of little witticisms that even today people can learn from.
One of them is this quote:
371. Meditate, O monk! Do not be heedless. Let not your mind whirl on sensual pleasures. Heedless, do not swallow a red-hot iron ball, lest you cry when burning, “O this is painful!”
In modern American English, I suppose we’d translate this as “don’t shoot yourself in the foot”.
But, of course we do this all the time. My doctor told me pretty bluntly that I should lose weight, and I want to lose weight, and yet when someone in the family offers to buy some bubble tea, I totally forget. What little spare time I have is usually spent playing Fire Emblem2 games instead of doing anything constructive like washing the dishes.
Centuries later, someone asked the Pure Land Buddhist teacher, Honen in the 12th century a series of questions and answers, this is question 57:
一。さけのむは、つみにて候か。 答。ま事にはのむべくもなけれども、この世のならひ。
Q: Is it a sin to drink saké [alcohol]? A: Indeed one ought not to drink, but [you know] it is the way of the world.
This is our normal state of being. Most of the time its benign, but clearly some actions we do are self-destructive even if just a little bit, and it’s hard to break the cycle if we aren’t even aware we’re doing the cycle to begin with.
So, there tends to be a need for both awareness, as well as self-restraint. When one becomes aware of their own habits, they are more capable of stopping self-destructive habits. By moderating or restraining bad habits, one tends to have fewer headaches later, and thereby getting one step closer on the Buddhist path.
There’s no magic formula for this. As we’ve seen in Mahayana Buddhism, there are countless ways to approach this both in the grand sense, but in the little day to day efforts too. Everyone is encouraged to find their own way, or emulate others they find admirable. The latter is why the Sangha, the Buddhist community, is considered one of the Three Treasures by the way. People can’t always see what they’re doing is harmful, and even if they can, they can’t always fix it without support from loved ones and people they trust.
The Buddhist path is long, spanning countless lifetimes, but even tiny little changes we make here and now, even if we falter, will still have big effects in the future. Don’t underestimate your own ability, and don’t be afraid to rely on others if needed. If nothing else, recite the nembutsu.3
Happy Ohigan!
Namo Shakyamuni Buddha
P.S. The featured image is the temple of Todaiji in Nara, Japan, another project by Emperor Shomu.
1 In modern Japanese culture, it is often a holiday time for overworked employees, and a chance to go to their home town, pay respects to their ancestors, etc. Like a smaller scale Obon.
2 After this initial post, I have still been actively playing Three Houses for the past year (!), but I have also branched into other games in the series. I have five games currently and am various stages of each. It’s a terrific series, but Three Houses will always be my favorite. Such a beautiful story, such an emotional rollercoaster. If you own a Nintendo Switch, I hope you get a chance to play it.
3 Question 69 of same letter addressed to Honen:
一。心に妄念のいかにも思はれ候は、いかがし候べき。 答。ただよくよく念仏を申させ給へ。
Q: When bad thoughts keep arising within my mind, what should I do? A: The only thing to do is to repeat Nembutsu.
I alluded in recent posts about my visits to the temple of Sanjūsangendō (三十三間堂, San-ju-san-gen-do) in Kyoto, Japan, but I’ve never really talked about it.
My experiences with Sanjusangendo go all the way back to our first trip to Japan together in 2005. My wife (whose Japanese) and I had married the previous year,1 and we came to Japan to meet the extended family, but also take in many sites. That first trip through Kyoto was a whirlwind, and I have very fuzzy memories of most of it. I couldn’t remember much about Sanjusangendo, and since we couldn’t take photos, I had very little to remind me either.
And yet, something about Sanjusangendo drew us back in recent years. My late mother-in-law really liked Sanjusangendo, and my wife wanted visit again for her mother’s sake, and now with 20 years of experience in Buddhism, the temple made a lot more sense to me. The fact that it’s a Tendai temple (and I like Tendai Buddhism) was icing on the cake. My wife was really inspired by it too, so the following year we visited it again.
…. so, what is Sanjusangendo?
Sanjusangendo is a Buddhist temple, which venerates the bodhisattva Kannon, also known as Avalokiteshvara, Guan-yin, etc. It was founded in the 12th century by the infamous warlord Taira no Kiyomori as a way to impress Emperor Go-Shirakawa (tl;dr it didn’t work). What makes Sanjusangendo so famous is two things:
It’s very long, narrow main hall (本堂, hondō). This is different than most temples which have a more square-shaped main hall. The hondō of Sanjusangendo is a very long rectangle, but there’s a reason for this. The featured photo above is something I took in 2023, and shows the scale of the building. The website also has a nice photo.
The temple’s main attraction is the 1,000 statues of Kannon bodhisattva, centering around a much larger statue of Kannon. These statues are lined up in rows along the main hall, and in front of them are other statues featuring various gods and other divine beings protecting the temple. More on that below.
Since Sanjusangendo doesn’t allow photography inside the main hall,2 you should check out the official website instead. You can see the main hall, and the row upon row of Kannons here. The official website also has photos of each figure.
The main figure of devotion, as i said above, is the bodhisattva Kannon, but since Kannon has many forms, this form is the 1,000-armed Kannon called Senju Kannon (千手観音). This form of Kannon isn’t limited to Japanese Buddhism; I have seen this form expressed at Vietnamese Buddhist temples as well. The idea is that Kannon, according to the Lotus Sutra, uses many different means and methods to help people, and the 1,000 arms, each holding different objects, symbolizes the diverse ways that Kannon helps others.
Something you might also note is that the Kannon statue has 11 heads. Just as the 1,000 arms show Kannon’s efforts to help all beings in a variety of ways, the 11 heads show Kannon’s vigilance in watching out over people.
Not shown in the photos is a small display which teaches a particular mantra associated with the 1,000-armed Kannon:
You can recite this mantra in Japanese or Sanskrit. I am unclear what the translation is, but I’ve been told before that translating mantras is kind of pointless, like giving answers to a Zen koan. So, I left out the translation.
Anyhow, flanking the great big statue of Kannon on either side are 10 rows of smaller, standing statues of Kannon, each with 1,000 arms, which you can see here. The website says that of the one-thousand statues, they were built over time: 124 were from the late Heian period (12th century) and the rest were constructed during the Kamakura period (13th-15th century). There are a total of 1,000 statues, each one slightly different, but generally the same form.
Finally, in front of these statues is a series of mythical figures. Some are originally from India, and traveled the Silk Road, gradually transforming into what we see today. Others are more native Japanese deities who’ve also become Buddhist guardians. You can see the full catalog here.
To give an example of the eclectic nature of these figures, one figure is a Buddhist guardian deity named Vajrapani (Naraenkengō 那羅延堅固 in Japanese), whose imagery was influenced by the Greek hero Herakles at a time when places like Bactria and Gandhara were still part of the Greek world.
On the other hand, you can also see the famous figures of Raijin and Fūjin who are Thunder and Wind gods respectively. As far as I know, these are native deities and did not originate from the Silk Road.
The quality of the artwork is really excellent. When you see any of these figures, Kannon, Vajrapani, Raijin, etc, the life-like quality is really impressive. And, like many examples of Buddhist art, they are full of symbolism and visual meaning beyond words. They impress and inspire those who see them. Since I have now seen Sanjusangendo three times, I found that it continues to impress me every time I see it.
Speaking from experience, Sanjusangendo is a place that requires some context to really appreciate. If you are unfamiliar with Kannon and why they have one-thousand arms, or with the strange but beautiful figures guarding the front row, then some of it will feel like a mystery. It’s a beautiful mystery, but still a mystery. But, hopefully after reading this, you will get a chance to see it someday and really get a feel for why this place is special.
As someone who has an affinity for Kannon since I first became a Buddhist, it is a special place for me. 😊
Edit: fixed a number of typos. Three-day weekend drowsiness. 😅
P.S. Again, apologies for the lack of photos. I know sometimes foreigners will take photos anyway (I have seen people do this), despite the signs clearly saying “photography prohibited”, but I don’t want to be one of those tourists. So, if you want to see more, check out the excellent website.
1 Twenty-year anniversary as of early 2024. 🎉
2 A lot of temples in Japan do this. I don’t fully understand why, and it is frankly a little frustrating.
3 Katakana script is often used to write foreign-imported words in Japanese, as opposed to hiragana script. Since mantras are originally derived from Sanskrit, using katakana makes sense in this context. Sometimes katakana is also used for visual impact (like in manga), so that might explain things too. NHK has a nice website explaining how to read katakana.
I’ve talked a lotrecently about the Jodo Shinshu sect (sometimes called “Shin Buddhism” in some circles) of Japanese Buddhism and its founder Shinran, a former Tendai-Buddhist monk of the 13th century.
Shinran was one of a multitude of disciples of Honen. Honen was crucial in propagating Pure Land Buddhist teachings to the wider Japanese populace through simple recitation of the nembutsu over elaborate death-bed practices. For his part, Honen was building on older teachings from such illustrious monks as Genshin in Japan (also Tendai), and Shandao in China.
Needless to say, Honen’s hugely popular egalitarian movement really rubbed the Buddhist establishment, which had close ties with the Imperial government (especially with the Fujiwara), the wrong way. Although several complaints by powerful temples such as Kofukuji of the Hosso (Yogacara) sect and Enryakuji of the Tendai sect were rejected, Emperor Gotoba1 finally purged the movement after some alleged shenanigans between a couple disciples and some of his ladies in waiting. This is known in history as the Jogen Persecution (jōgen no hōnan, 承元の法難) of 1207.2
I say this because not only were the offending disciples executed, Honen and many of his followers were banished to the provinces, including Shinran, and were stripped of their monastic certification. The latter point is important to this post and worth exploring.
Way back in the day in ancient India, during the time of Shakyamuni (5th c. BCE), people who wished to follow the Buddha full time would renounce worldly life and become monks (bhikkhu) or nuns (bhikkuni). This was voluntary, and people could choose to give it up and return to lay life, assuming of course they weren’t kicked out for committing some offense. Since antiquity, Indian religious culture respected sages, ascetics, and monastics, such sages, ascetics and monks lived by begging for alms and were generally supported by the community. Since they were supposed to devote themselves full time to religious pursuits, it was assumed that the community would handle their day to day needs.
Fast-forward centuries later to Imperial China, where Confucianism was already entrenched in the government. Confucian bureaucrats generally had a suspicious view of Buddhist monks because they did not work, and didn’t contribute toward rearing families, or other such obligations to society. This clash of cultures played out over centuries, and there was even a dramatic purge during the Tang Dynasty in 845 where many monasteries were destroyed. Centuries later, they gradually reconciled, but it was a very bumpy ride.
This tension between Confucian bureaucracy and Buddhists played out in Japan too. Buddhism was eagerly adopted by the early Imperial court in Japan, but it was a tightly regulated extension of the State, intended to help avert calamities, and bring prosperity to the nations. Monks were frequently called on to recite sutra passages, or chant mantras to help ailing members of the aristocracy, or prevent natural disasters. Of course, many people were sincere followers too, but ordinations, regulations and such were all managed by the central government. It was, first and foremost, another organ of the State.
Why do I mention this?
Because when Shinran and other followers of Honen were stripped of monastic certification, they were no longer recognized as monks by the authorities. Sure they might have training, but no official status.
However, Shinran had been a trainee on Mount Hiei, center of the Tendai sect, since he was a small boy. He knew no other life. And yet now he was technically not a monk anymore in the eyes of the law. And yet, he wasn’t really a lay person either.
This led to a fascinating declaration by Shinran who changed his name to Gutoku Shinran (愚禿釋親鸞, “foolish, stubble-headed disciple of Shakyamuni [Buddha], Shinran”) and declaring himself hisō hizoku (非僧非俗) which means “neither priest, nor layman”. This set the trend that became the Jodo Shinshu movement thereafter.
Rather than relying on monastic institutions or monastic structure, Jodo Shinshu followers self-organized into dōjō (道場)3 which were often just people’s houses. Such members would gather periodically, pay dues, discuss issues at the time, shared letters from Shinran, recited the nembutsu together and so on. It was probably the first truly lay-centered Buddhist movement of this size and scale in Japan, possibly in history.
Lay movements are not new to Buddhism, but usually are often centered around a famous teacher (a monk) or a temple. Or, they tended to dissipate after a few generations. The Jodo Shinshu movement had neither monastic teachers, nor temples. They self-organized, trained their own priests, which included both men and women, and these men and women lived as other people did: they married, had families, worked, etc. Shinran for his part also married and had kids. He had no reason at this point not to since he was legally not a monk any more.
It wasn’t always smooth sailing, and Shinran (and later Rennyo) had to frequently deal with bad teachers, who let the power go to their heads, or taught unorthodox ideas purporting that they came from Shinran. Further, in the time of warlord Oda Nobunaga, and later the Zen monk Tetsugen, mob-violence by Jodo Shinshu followers was a genuine threat.
Nevertheless, the fact that such a self-organized lay-focused Buddhist community existed and thrived across medieval Japan is very noteworthy. It’s openness to women priests was revolutionary for the time, as was its lack of monastic standards for priests. It was run by laypeople for laypeople.
Even while I criticize some aspects of Shinran’s thought, I can’t help but deny that the “neither priest nor layman” concept, even if it was lamenting his own fate, ended up being a brilliant innovation and ahead of his time. Lay-Buddhist movements are very common now across Asia and the West, but these are often very modern innovations. Jodo Shinshu was basically doing it centuries earlier, before it was cool. It met the needs of people in a way that “ivory tower” monastic institutions could not, and solved the issue of accessibility of Buddhist teachings in a robust, sustainable way.
Not surprisingly, Jodo Shinshu is overwhelmingly the largest sect in Japan.
P.S. Shinran wasn’t the only one to really propagate Pure Land teachings in the provinces. Another major disciple of Honen, Bencho, was exiled to the island of Kyushu and established a lineage there which is now the main branch (a.k.a. Chinzei-branch) of the Jodo Shu sect we know today. Another disciple, Shoku, developed a second branch called Seizan-branch Jodo Shu. Shinran’s teachings and organization differed enough from Honen’s that later generations treated it as a separated sect entirely. Hence, “Jodo Shinshu”, not “Jodo Shu”. This might feel like splitting hairs, but if you’re a history nerd, now you know.
1 Emperor Gotoba was also the author of poem 99 in the Hyakunin Isshu, and was definitely a larger-than-life figure… for better or for worse.
2 There is also another persecution in 1227 called the Karoku Persecution (karoku no hōnan, 嘉禄の法難). In the latter case, Honen had already passed away, but after followers who remained in Kyoto built a mausoleum for their beloved teacher, the warrior monks of Enryaku-ji temple raided the mausoleum, destroyed it, and killed some disciples. These were tough times.
3 the modern “dojo” as a martial-arts institution gradually derived from this.
Years ago, when I was part of the local Jodo Shinshu Buddhist community, my minister told me a story about how Rennyo and Ikkyu, two famous Buddhist monks from 15th century Japan, were both good friends and would frequently test one another in their grasp of Buddhism. They were an unlikely pair of friends, given that they belonged to two very different Buddhist traditions, and yet they clearly had a rapport that you rarely find in Japanese-Buddhist history.
To be honest, I thought the story of them being friends was embellished, but I got curious recently poked around some Japanese sources on the Interwebs, and sure enough there were a number of famous anecdotes between Ikkyu and Rennyo. These anecdotes aren’t necessarily historically accurate, but they have been passed down through the generations and even show up in Japanese TV today.
But first, let’s introduce Ikkyu and Rennyo.
Ikkyu Sojun (一休宗純, 1394 – 1481) was a monk of the Rinzai Zen tradition,1 which was politically dominant at this time due to the Five Mountains System in Kyoto. He was disillusioned with the pomp and grandeur of the Zen community at that time, and left to live a more “authentic life” among the people. He is famous for his flashes of genius, and his artistic talents, but also his unorthodox behavior, including partying and sleeping with girls. Ikkyu left behind many excellent poems, paintings, and his genius image has made him a popular figure even in modern Japan.
Rennyo (蓮如, 1415–1499) was the eighth head of the ancestral Honganji Temple in Kyoto,2 which ostensibly was the head temple of the Jodo Shinshu sect. Trouble was, the movement was very fractured, with regional groups, rival powers, etc. And then there were the warrior-monks of Mount Hiei (head of Tendai sect) that wanted him dead. Rennyo had to flee Kyoto for a long while to the provinces, but used the time to unify the Jodo Shinshu groups into a more cohesive sect for the first time. His Letter on White Ashes, is a particularly inspired piece of writing.
Ikkyu was 20 years older than Rennyo, but in many anecdotes, they are making jokes with one another, or testing each other’s wisdom.
In one famous story (used in the “Ikkyu-san” cartoon), Ikkyu had put up a sign near a really crooked pine tree. The sign read whoever can see this pine straight, I will give them a kanmon of gold.
People were stumped, and brought this to Rennyo’s attention. Rennyo said, “pfft, more of Ikkyu’s mischief. I see this pine straight. I’ll get the cash.”
When Rennyo confronted Ikkyu about it, Ikkyu said, “Oh, it’s you. You don’t count. Look at the back of the sign.”
Sure enough, on the back of the sign was painted “EXCEPT RENNYO”.
When people ask Rennyo how he was able to see the crooked pine straight, Rennyo said that he saw it for what it was: a crooked pine. By seeing it for what it really was (a crooked pine), he saw it “straight”.
In another anecdote, for which I could find the original Japanese, Ikkyu had read the Amitabha Sutra and commented:
阿弥陀には まことの慈悲はなかりけり たのむ衆生のみぞ助ける
Amida Buddha has no true compassion; he only helps those who ask.
Rennyo is invoking the imagery of Amida Buddha’s compassion as moonlight, which we’ve seen before, and how it shines everywhere. But if water is in a container (has a lid on it), the moonlight will not reflect back.
Ikkyu tested Rennyo again:
極楽は十万億土と説くなれば 足腰立たぬ婆は行けまじ
If the Pure Land of Amida Buddha is indeed 10,000,000,000,000 lands away [as described in the sutras], then an elderly woman who is unable to stand cannot go there.
In another story, Ikkyu attended the 200th memorial of the founder of Jodo Shinshu (and Rennyo’s ancestor), Shinran. Of Shinran, Ikkyu wrote the following verse:
襟巻の あたたかそうな黒坊主 こやつが法は 天下一なり That black[-robed] monk with the warm [as in “kind”] head and scarf, his Dharma teachings are peerless.
There are a lot of other stores too, and I’ll try to share more as I find them, but I thought these were neat. Zen and Pure Land Buddhism are often treated as separated teachings, and separate sects, but I suspect that as with any Buddhist path if you get far enough along, you’ll start to run into people of the same mind.
That, in my humble opinion, is the power of the Lotus Sutra and its many gates.
1 Zen in Japan is divided into 3 schools: Soto, Rinzai and Obaku, all imported from China at various points in history. Rinzai and Obaku both have the same “ancestral lineage” in China, but arrived in Japan at different points. Soto comes from a different lineage entirely in China.
2 A few generations after Rennyo, the Honganji split into two temples: Nishi (West) Honganji, and Higashi (East) Honganji after a family split, plus politics. They are effectively equal, but different sub-sects.
Visiting the city of Tokyo is not complete without taking a stop at the iconic Tokyo Tower. But what a lot of visitors might not know is that right next to Tokyo Tower is a Buddhist temple of great historical and cultural value: Zojoji
The temple of Zōjō-ji (増上寺) was the family temple for the Tokugawa shoguns who ruled Japan from 1600 to 1868 (e.g. the Edo Period), and many of the shoguns are interred here. The temple is also one of two main temples of the Jodo-shu sect of Buddhism. Jodo-shu Buddhism really helped me find my foundation back in the day, so I am more than a little fond of it. I have also visited the other main temple, Chion-in, in Kyoto a couple times. My first visit in 2005 is what really started me on the path to Buddhism back in the day. So, it’s no exaggeration that without the Honen the founder and Jodo Shu sect, I wouldn’t have found my path. I am always grateful.
In any case, wife (who’s Japanese) and I both like to come to Zojoji whenever we can. We joke it’s our “power spot”.1
The prestige and political power of Zojoji meant that it has been a very important temple in the Tokyo area for centuries, probably more so than Sensoji / Asakusa Temple (which I am also quite fond of).
The English website for Zojoji is actually pretty good, but it leaves out some details found in the Japanese version. Every time I go, I see foreign tourists dropping by, but I suspect some of them are unaware of the history and teachings of the temple, which is a shame because it’s actually a pretty neat place. So, this post is a lengthy tour of Zojoji. If you are reading this through email, you may want to visit the link instead. This post is VERY picture-heavy.
The Japanese site has a nice map of temple. I started at the bottom-center, at the Sangédatsu-mon (三解脱門), which might translate into something like the Three Gates of Liberation:
To the left of the gate is a sign that posts a monthly Buddhist teaching.
This month’s (August 2024) teaching is a quote from the very early Buddhist text, the Dhammapada, verse 54:
Not the sweet smell of flowers, not even the fragrance of sandal, tagara, or jasmine blows against the wind. But the fragrance of the virtuous blows against the wind. Truly the virtuous man pervades all directions with the fragrance of his virtue.
From here, I passed through the gate and took a photo of this statue of the Bodhisattva Kannon:
Next, based on the map linked above, I went clockwise around the perimeter of the temple. The next thing I saw was this pagoda (gojū-no-tō 五重塔 in Japanese) which seems to have been built in 1938:
It sits next to the other gate to Zojoji, the Kuro-mon (黒門, “black gate”) which was built in the 1700’s.
Just north of this (still going clockwise), you can see the Sutra Storehouse (kyōzō 経蔵):
This is something major temples often have: a large store house that contains the vast corpus of Buddhist literature (sutras): the Tripitaka. Sadly, I came too early in the day, and so the doors were closed. If you click on the map above, and look in the bottom left for 経蔵 you can see photo of the interior. It contains a full copy of the Taisho Tripitaka, in three different versions, in a rotating shelf.
The left area of the map mostly contained meeting halls and offices, so I kind of skipped past this quickly, and headed toward the main hall (hondō 本堂). This is in the very center of the map. Just to the left of the stairs is a nice statue of the 12th century founder of the Jodo-shu sect, Honen, in his youth:
There are some famous stories about his life (somewhat embellished, I believe), including his piousness at a young age. Hence, you often see Jodo-shu temples with status of young Honen. That said, Honen is a cool guy, and he gets my respect any day.
Next is the main hall itself:
This place is pretty amazing inside. Also, unlike many temples, you do not need to remove your shoes at the door and you are welcome to take photos (except during funeral services, obviously):
The main altar is to Amida Buddha, the Buddha of Infinite Light, and the devotion of all Pure Land Buddhists across traditions. The gold color and lotus artwork are all taken from descriptions of the Pure Land, as described in the Sutras. It is said all beings reborn in the Pure Land will have the color of gold, just like Amida, and will be born from lotus buds. The Taima Mandala, not related to Zojoji, provides a nice visual representation.
To the left and right of the main altar are Honen, mentioned above, and Shan-dao the Chinese Pure Land master who inspired Honen back in the day, respectively. They lived centuries apart, but both are revered for their contributions to the tradition.
To the right of the main hall you have two choices: one you go down the stairs to the Museum. Or go to the Ankokuden Hall:
We’ll talk about the museum a bit later. For now let’s focus on the hall. Inside is both a gift shop and another altar to Amida Buddha:
This statue of Amida Buddha is historically significant though: it was the same statue venerated long ago by Tokugawa Ieyasu, the first Shogun of the Edo Period, and final unifier of Japan. This black-colored Amida statue had been a central devotional figure of the Tokugawa Shoguns for generations, so while it’s not the “main attraction” for tourists, from a historical standpoint, it is. I’ve seen it multiple times, and I never get tired of being here.
As alluded to earlier, there are shrines to the left and right of the Amida Buddha. The one on the left is of the founder of the Tokugawa shoguns,2 Tokugawa Ieyasu described above. The one on the right is less clear. It enshrines someone named Princess Kazunomiya. I had to do a bit of research and it turns out that Kazunomiya was a member of the Imperial family (not the Tokugawa family), but had been wed to Tokugawa Iemochi the 14th Shogun as a political marriage intended to heal the centuries old breach between the two families. The arranged marriage had a rocky start, but in the end proved to be a surprisingly happy and successful marriage at a time when Japan was in the waning days of the Shogunate. So, within the Tokugawa family temple, she is enshrined as an important matriarch.
We’ll see more monuments to Princess Kazunomiya shortly, so remember the name.
Anyhow, after picking up some nice incense and another seal in my pilgrimage book, I left the Ankokuden Hall. To its right is a line of statues.
The statue in the front is Bodhisattva Kannon, similar to what we saw earlier.3 There is a small altar to the right as well with another statue of Kannon that is often overlooked:
This is the “Western-facing Kannon”. The western-direction in Mahayana Buddhism is strongly associated with the Pure Land of Amida Buddha (by contrast, the eastern direction is associated with the Medicine Buddha’s own Lapis Lazuli Pure Land), and since Kannon is an attendant of Amida Buddha, this tracks.
But what about the little statues with red bibs?
These statues represent another Bodhisattva named Jizō. I haven’t talked about Jizo as much in this blog, but he’s very important in Japanese religion as a kind of protector deity, especially of children. Each statue adorned with a bib represent a child that was lost in pregnancy or in childbirth, and so the grieving parents pray to Jizo to protect their child in the life beyond. The clothing is an offering to Jizo, perhaps to pass on to the child?
While the statues are very cute, there is a tragic meaning behind them as well.
The line of statues continues back behind the Ankokuden and Hondo (main hall). It is here that you come upon the mausoleum of the Tokugawa Shoguns.
Not all shoguns are interred here. Some are interred in a shrine called Toshogu up north in Nikko. I would estimate that roughly half of the shoguns are interred here. I won’t show them all, since the map and pamphlet you receive at the ticket booth shows a full list. But to give a few examples…
The second shogun, Tokugawa Hidetada and his wife are interred here. Edo (Tokyo) was greatly expanded during his administration from a tiny fishing village to the city we know today.
From the mausoleum entrance, if you were to go further left you will see this statue:
Without getting too bogged down in details, the four statues here represent four major Bodhisattvas in the Mahayana-Buddhist tradition. From left to right with Sanskrit (and Japanese) names:
Manjushri (Monju)
Avalokitesvara (Kannon)
Ksitigarbha (Jizo)
Samanthabhadra (Fugen)
It’s actually quite rare to see all four arrayed like this. I was kind of impressed. It is said these statues were created in the year 1258 according to the plaque.
Further left:
If you go up the stairs and turn right…
You can find the tea house of Princess Kazunomiya called the Teikyōan (貞恭庵):
Since Princess Kazunomiya took tonsure as a Buddhist nun in her final years, she took the ordination name Teikyo, so the name of the place is basically “Princess Kazunomiya’s hearth”. The sign said that it was refurbished in 1980 and is used for some public functions. It was closed when I came so I didn’t get to see much.
Facing the tea house is another statue of Kannon Bodhisattva in a more motherly form.
Past the tea house and up some stairs is this place, which is the upper part of the map:
It turns out that this is a columbarium: a storage house for the bones of the deceased after cremation. This is common in Buddhist temples. This columbarium in particular houses the bones of those who are somehow connected to the temple across the generations. Beyond that, the website didn’t provide an explanation.
By this point I wanted to see the museum but again I had arrived too early so I stopped by a local McDonald’s for brunch:
On the way out, I also took photos of the Buddhist bell (bonshō 梵鐘) as well:
And a small Shinto shrine to the right of the main entrance:
This Shinto shrine, called the Yuya (熊野) Shrine, was founded in 1624 by the 13th head priest of Zojoji, one Shoyo Kurayama, to protect the north-east corner of the temple from disasters. The north-east is seen as a particularly dangerous direction in Chinese geomancy (a.k.a. feng-shui), so the kami here provide protection. It is not unusual to see small Shinto shrines within Buddhist temples, and many Shinto deities are viewed as manifestations of Buddhist deities (gongen 権現) by Japanese in medieval times. The sign next to the shrine states that 3 kami reside here:
Ketsumiko-no-ōkami
Ōnamura-no-mikoto
Izanagi-no-mikoto (as in Izanagi from early Japanese mythology? I am not sure)
These three kami all seemed to have been imported from a trio of Shinto shrines called the Kumano shrines, which have a strongly syncretic Buddhist-Shinto worship. I didn’t even know the Kumano shrines existed until I wrote this article. Side note: the Chinese characters for Kumano (熊野) can be alternately read as “Yuya”, hence “Yuya Shrine”.
Anyhow, having satiated myself on McD’s, it was time to go back and visit the Museum…
Much of the museum doesn’t allow photography, but showed the history of Zojoji. As it is being restored from earlier destruction, there wasn’t actually that much in the museum.
However, what the museum also had (and OK to photograph) was a genuine relic of the Buddha, as in Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical founder. It also contains relics of Rahula, the Buddha’s son before his enlightenment, and Ananda, his trusted retainer. As the sign shows above, the relics were uncovered at Sanchi, which is an important Buddhist archeological site. The relics were given to Japan as a gift in 1955 and enshrined right under Zojoji. You can see
A display to the right shows the contents, and the letter from India to Japan. In addition to fragments of the bones of Shakyamuni Buddha, Rahula and Ananda, the contents included recovered copies of Buddhist sutras that were inscribed on palm leaf at the time, and a seed descended from the original Bodhi Tree.
In my nearly 20-25 years as a Buddhist, I had never come face to face with a relic of the Buddha before, so I was kind of awestruck. The small wooden plaque just in front of the small statue of the Buddha contained a small prayer that reads:
Recite 3 times: namu shaka muni bu (praise to Shakyamuni Buddha)
I don’t have a translation of this hymn, but after a bit of late night sleuthing, I suspect it’s a verse from a Buddhist text called the Humane King Sutra. I don’t think there’s an English translation anyway.
In any case, I recited the verses of praise to Shakyamuni Buddha and finally went home.4
But that concluded the trip to Zojoji. Usually, I go with the family, and we can’t afford to spend half a day there, but this time I had some free time and was able to really take in all the sites of Zojoji. As a historical site, Zojoji is very dense and fascinating. It’s hard to imagine centuries of history, all closely tied to the Tokugawa shoguns and the Jodo-shu sect all in one place. The relic of the Buddha alone is pretty amazing too.
This post was pretty long, but I hope you enjoyed.
P.S. I didn’t really provide a lot of links to Jodo Shu Buddhism, since I talkaboutitquiteabit in the blog already, and many of the English sites have sadly atrophied or disappeared over time. I would definitely recommend various books such as A Raft from the Other Shore or Traversing the Pure Land Path, but these are mostly out of print now. I have done what I could over the years to distill many of these lost sources into an accessible format here, but there’s still plenty to find if you know where to look.
1 This is actually a slang phrase in Japanese too, taken from English: pawaa supotto (パワースポット), meaning any place that inspires you spiritually.
2 Without getting too bogged down in history, think of a shōgun (将軍) as the Imperial-appointed “General Commander of the Armed Forces”. The role has changed and evolved over generations, but suffice to say if you were the shogun, you were the real, not symbolic, authority in Japan.
3 The astute might be wondering why a temple devoted to Amida Buddha also contains so many statues to another figure like Kannon. In Mahayana Buddhism, the two share a close relationship. It is described in the sutras who Amida Buddha is attended to by two Bodhisattvas: Kannon and another named Seishi. Kannon has an outsized following of their own, but the two are frequently depicted together, as both embody the universal goodwill and compassion that are hallmarks of Mahayana Buddhism. Seishi, admittedly, isn’t described much in the Buddhist texts, and thus isn’t revered much on their own.
4 Actually, I stopped along the way at Akihabara because I had never been there. That place was … not for me. Nerdy, but in a very different way. I did have some good fries at a Turkish cafe in Akihabara for dinner, thanks to Mustafa the chef. Very nice fellow. If you are in Akihabara, stop by his cafe and get some good Turkish food.
Author’s note: I reposted this from the other blog. There’s a lot of overlap here, and it just made sense to post in both blogs (probably the first I’ve ever done that in 11+ years!). If you’ve already read the other post, apologies for posting again.
In a lesser-known Imperial poetry anthology called the Shui Wakashu (拾遺和歌集), poem 1342, is recorded what is believed to be Lady Izumi’s1 final poem:
Japanese
Romanization
Translation
暗きより
Kuraki yori
The way I must enter
暗き道にぞ
Kuraki michi ni zo
leads through darkness to darkness —
入りぬべき
Irinu beki
O moon above the mountains’ rim
はるかに照らせ
Haruka ni terase
please shine a little further
山の端の月
Yama no wa no tsuki
on my path.
Translation by Jane Hirshfield and Mariko Aratani in The Ink Dark Moon.
This poem was addressed to a Buddhist monk named “Shoku” and includes several Buddhist allusions. The most important is the phrase “darkness to darkness”, which comes from chapter seven of the Lotus Sutra:
….from darkness they [living beings] enter into darkness, to the end never hearing the Buddha’s name [hear the Dharma].
This refers to the Buddhist notion of Samsara, the near-infinite, aimless wandering that living beings undergo lifetime after lifetime, like a cosmicrat race. Such beings, who have yet to hear the Dharma [the teachings] of the Buddha, will continue to wander lifetime after lifetime without rest.
Thus, Lady Izumi is asking Shoku to help shine a light in the darkness for her, so that she may find the way [follow the Buddhist path].
I had trouble deciding which blog to put this in, since it covers both themes, but I decided to originally post in the other blog since the poem was introduced in the new historical drama about Lady Murasaki, Izumi’s contemporary.
Lady Izumi was, to put it mildly, a complex woman. She had incredible talent, and found herself in one scandal3 after another as powerful men fell at her feet, plus she earned scorn from other women such as Lady Murasaki. And yet, she was also very kind, devout and struggled to balance both the religious and worldly aspects of her life, while raising her orphaned granddaughter.
Hirshfield and Aratani note that if this poem is indeed her last, the final word she ever wrote was tsuki (月), “moon”.
2 alternate translation by Murano reads: …they go from darkness to darkness, and do not hear of the names of the Buddhas.
3 this was a conservative, narrow, aristocratic society where men frequently had affairs, but it was much more scandalous if women did. The idea that women could want, and enjoy sex, was not something people really accepted at the time.
A little while ago, when talking about Japanese mythology, I alluded to the belief in the divine origins of the Japanese imperial family through their reputed ancestor Amaterasu Ōmikami (Amaterasu for short), kami of the sun. This lineage and how they came to rule Japan is recorded in two very old historical texts: the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki.
Since I have been reading a fun book in Japanese about the Nihon Shoki, we will focus on that one. Just know that the origin story in Kojiki is mostly the same.
The Nihon Shoki begins as a series of myths about the creation of Japan, followed by stories of different generations of kami, culminating in Amaterasu’s grandson, Ninigi-no-Mikoto who descends to earth. Next, Ninigi had a great-grandson, named Kamu-yamato Iware-biko no Sumeramikoto (神日本磐余彦天皇),1 and in time “Iware-biko” became the first emperor of Japan, the legendary Emperor Jimmu (jimmu tennō, 神武天皇).2 We’ll explore later why this is more myth than history, but for now, let’s continue the story as recorded.
In his youth, the future emperor grew up in what later became the province of Hyuga in southern Japan, also called Himuka (日向) in olden times. By the age of 45, he had married, had children, and took care of his brothers. Then one day, he proclaimed to his family that due to his divine lineage, it is his destiny to rule the lands to the east (central Japan) which are rich and verdant, and to establish his capital there.
From here, Iware-biko sets out with his kin to the island of Honshu, the main island of Japan, and begins the invasion of the “Yamato” region, starting at the bay of Naniwa (later Osaka). It is here they come into conflict with the a local chieftain named Naga-sune-hiko. Sadly, Iware-biko’s older brother was killed, and the newcomers were forced to retreat. Iware-biko then reasoned that by fighting eastward, facing the rising sun, they lost the battle. Thus, he decides to sail south around the Kii Peninsula, and then attack from the east (i.e. westward). Upon reaching the region Kumano, they encountered a huge crow named the Yatagarasu (八咫烏) where “ata” 咫 means a hand-span from the thumb to the middle finger, about 18cm. So, the crow was 8 hand-spans long. The Yatagarasu was dispatched by the kami Amaterasu to help her descendant as a guide.
Once again, Iware-biko and his clan battled Nage-sune-hiko long and hard. Then, a golden-colored kite (as in bird), called the kinshi (金鵄), mounted on Iware-biko’s bow (hence the depiction above), and its blazing glare blinded their enemies. They were defeated at last.
From here, Iware-biko pacified the region, and assumed the throne as the first Emperor, Jimmu, and proclaimed that his line would “last 10,000 generations” (lit. mansei ikkei, 万世一系). Further, according to the Nihon Shoki, the first Emperor then proclaimed the phrase hakkō ichi-u (八紘一宇), or more elaborately “all under Heaven [lit. the eight corners of the world] under one roof”. The idea was basically one of universal brotherhood.
Allegedly, this unification of Japan, and its founding by Emperor Jimmu, all happened in the year 660 BCE.
Fast forward to the year 1940, as in 1940 CE.
This period was the height of Japanese militarism in the modern era, and the Youtube show Extra History has a brilliant miniseries on it:
I highly recommend viewing the miniseries if you are curious, but it helps explain a lot.
Anyhow, by 1940, this trend of nationalist fervor reached a crescendo, and it was coincidentally 2,600 years since the mythical founding of Japan. When the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere was promulgated in 1940 by the Prime Minister at the time,3 Prince Konoe Fumimaro, he repeated an ancient phrase said to have been spoken by Emperror Jimmu: hakkō ichi-u (八紘一宇, “Eight corners of the world under one roof”). However, in Fumimaro’s modern interpretation, Asia would be united in a union of brotherhood, with Japan at the center (i.e. under one Japanese roof). This was repeated during war times as a rallying slogan as well, and questioning the historicity of the Nihon Shoki at that time was illegal.
There’s a small problem with the original historical narrative about Emperor Jimmu, though: it’s unlikely he ever existed, and it’s very doubtful that Japan was founded in 660 BC.
There is basically no archeological evidence that the early “Yamato” kingdom existed in Japan during this time. In fact, the earliest emperor that has any reliable archeological evidence is Sujin the 10th emperor, who is thought to have died around 30 BCE, 600 years later. Sovereigns weren’t even called “emperors” (tennō, 天皇) at the time, but “great kings” (dai-ō, 大王) instead. The term Emperor was reputedly used by Prince Shotoku centuries later.
So, why 660 BCE, and why the mythical lineage that probably didn’t exist?
Because the Nihon Shoki was not written for Japanese audiences. It was written for Chinese audiences in order to introduce Japan and its history. The Kojiki, conversely, was written for domestic audiences. Many of the early dates and lineages don’t line up properly, have insufficient historical evidence, or have imperial reigns that are unnaturally long. Yet as a narrative it seamlessly transitions between a divine kami ancestor and the current reigning family, and helped provide legitimacy in the eyes of the much larger and more powerful China. Even the date 660 BCE, 1260 years before the Nihon Shoki was completed, fit seamlessly with the Taoist 60-year calendar cycle to imply an auspicious beginning.
People did live in Japan back then, but we know from archaeological evidence that these were mostly hunter-gatherers, and rulers might be local chieftains at best.
What the Nihon Shoki does tell us though, through its legendary stories, heroes and such, is that pre-historical Japan was a place of many tribes, communities and confederations, and that over time the “Yamato” group came to increasingly dominate or incorporate them. For example, the ancestral kami, Ninigi, had a son in the Nihon Shoki named Yamasachi-hiko whose name includes “mountain”. Yamasachi-hiko married Toyotama-hime, who was a daughter of a sea deity. The fusion of mountains and sea ancestries is not lost on scholars.
Further, my book explaining the Nihon Shoki shows how some myths include subtle allusions to rival confederations who were defeated (or absorbed) by the early Yamato rulers. One noteworthy rival were the people of Izumo, for example. So, the Nihon Shoki can tell us a lot of interesting things about how Japan was founded, but not necessarily in the way we expect.
1 Many early figures in Japanese mythology had extremely long, grandiose names, by the way. My book on the Nihon Shoki likes to give amusing nicknames for ease of reading.
2 Thus, Emperor Jimmu was five generations removed from Amaterasu. The Nihon Shoki coveres stories and myths of each generation in between, but they are too numerous to list here. Needless to say, once Ninigi-no-Mikoto descends to the earth, things got wild.
3 Ostensibly to kick European Colonialism out of Asia, but it mostly ended up replacing European colonialism with Japanese colonialism. Not surprisingly, after WWII, many South East Asian countries fought for independence when the Europeans tried to reassert control. Enough was enough.
I had a bit of free time today, and I finished up another episode of the Japanese historical drama, the Thirteen Lords of the [Kamakura] Shogun (discussed here), the episode where Minamoto no Yoshitsune has been killed at last, which I talked about in a recent post. It was a really heavy, dark episode, but also really moving. I really wish this show was available overseas.
As with every episode, the show has a nice segment at the end showcasing where these events actually took place in Japan, and some extra history as well. It seems that Yoshitsune died at a place called Takadachi (高館) near the village of Hiraizumi (平泉) in the old province of Oshu, but now modern Iwate Prefecture. Evidentially, the famous Haiku poet Matsuo Basho visited there centuries later in 1689 when Yoshitsune, and the Northern Fujiwara clan that protected (then betrayed) him, were nothing more than ancient history.
According to Basho’s own travel diary, the Oku no Hosomichi (おくのほそ道) or “The Narrow Road to the Interior”, when he visited the Takadachi, he composed this haiku:
Japanese
Romanization
My Amateur Translation
夏草や
Natsu kusa ya
Ah summer grass:
兵どもが
Tsuwamono domo ga
fleeting echos of
夢の跡
Yume no ato
great warriors past
Usually this haiku is translated as something like “Summer grass is all that remains of warriors’ ambitions” or something along those lines, and that’s what I first thought. However, then I found this site, which makes a convincing argument that the nuance is a little different. The key is the word yumé (夢) which means “dream”, much like in English. However, in Basho’s time, it was more narrowly used to refer to sleep only, not ambition.
Evidentially it is a common trope in Noh Theater where a character dreams about someone important who died, and their restless spirit is unable to move on to the afterlife. But then the character wakes up, and the spirit disappears. Since Basho was no doubt familiar with Noh drama and its iconic stories, the site above argues that it’s possible that Basho was referring to echoes of the past, not warrior’s ambitions. Maybe he dozed off and dreamt of Yoshitsune, Benkei his stalwart partner, and the lords of the Northern Fujiwara. Or maybe he still felt their lingering presence. Who knows?
That is why I translated it the way I did. The rhyming was coincidental, but kind of catchy so I kept it in there. Apologies for any mistakes or clumsiness of the translation.
Out of all the haiku I’ve read, I find this one particularly moving for some reason especially with the alternate interpretation.
Namu Amida Butsu
P.S. Another of Basho’s haiku, commemorating another slain member of the Genji (Minamoto) Clan.
I’ve talked about the first shogun of Japan’s new Kamakura government, Minamoto no Yoritomo and his betrayal of his vassals here and here, but I also alluded to his execution of his younger half-brother, Minamoto no Yoshitsune. Yoshitsune’s downfall is indeed a sad tale. But as we’ll see, Yoritomo’s own downfall, while slower, wasn’t much better.
Minamoto no Yoshitsune was a military genius and the youngest of nine sons of Minamoto no Yoshitomo (Yoritomo was the oldest). When Yoshitomo was executed by his rival, Taira no Kiyomori, the half brothers were all scattered in exile, but gradually reunited under Yoritomo. Out of these brothers, Yoshitsune was the most talented in warfare. Yoshitsune led the led against the Heike clan and eventually destroyed it in the battle of Dan-no-ura.
Yoshitsune has been celebrated throughout Japanese history as the ultimate warrior, who along with his companion Benkei, went on many adventures and fought many battles. Yoshitsune’s bravery and unconventional strategies, coupled with Benkei’s stalwart strength and loyalty have been the subject of many Noh and Kabuki plays, as well as many works of art.
The famous battle between Benkei and Yoshitsune on the Gojobashi bridge in Kyoto. Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
But one thing Yoshitsune was not good at was politics. Once the Heike were destroyed, tensions rose between the new military commander (shogun 将軍), namely his older half-brother Yoritomo, and the conniving emperor Go-Shirakawa. The Imperial family had lost power due to the Heike clan, and were eager to get it back. The Genji clan defeated the Heike and weren’t keen to hand over their hard-fought power.
Yoshitsune was caught between these two men, and used as a proxy for their struggle for power. The Emperor, grateful for Yoshitsune’s efforts appointed him Kebiishi (検非違使): the Sheriff of Kyoto the capitol. Accepting this position, however, meant that Yoshitune was now working under the Emperor, not his half-brother the Shogun, and Yoritomo was evidentially furious by this. From here on out, he began to suspect his baby brother of plotting to overthrow him. The historical drama, Thirteen Lords of the Shogun, implies that certain retainers, perhaps jealous of Yoshitsune, may have been whispering in Yoritomo’s ear, fanning his paranoia further. When Yoshitsune tried to return to Kamakura to talk to his brother directly, he was refused entry and had to idle in the nearby town of Koshigoé.
While staying at Koshigoe, Yoshitsune wrote the following letter to his older brother:
So here I remain, vainly shedding crimson tears….I have not been permitted to refute the accusations of my slanderers or [even] to set foot in Kamakura, but have been obliged to languish idly these many days with no possibility of declaring the sincerity of my intentions. It is now so long since I have set eyes on His Lordship’s compassionate countenance that the bond of our blood brotherhood seems to have vanished.
Painting of Shizuka from 1825 by Hokusai, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Yoshitsune was unable to ease his older brother’s concerns, nor did he want to be under control of the Emperor either, so he bowed out, and retreated to the province of Ōshū way up north, where he had previously been exiled. It was familiar land, and the ruler of Oshu promised to watch Yoshitsune on behalf of Yoritomo, while also protecting him from Yoritomo. With his mistress, Shizuka,2 they moved there and things were quiet for a time.
However, Yoritomo wasn’t satisfied. When Yoshitsune’s keeper passed away, the keeper’s son hatched a plan with Yoritomo to allow Yoritomo’s troops to attack his Yoshitsune’s house.
Legends hype up this last stand by Yoshitsune (with Benkei defending), but in any case, Yoshitsune the famed military commander was killed by his own half-brother, and his head was preserved in a box with sake. Yoshitsune was later enshrined as a kami at Shirahata Shrine in Fujisawa.3
Yoshitsune died in 1189, and by 1192 Yoritomo was in full control of Japan since the Emperor had died as well. As the shogun, the supreme commander of military forces, no one could oppose Yoritomo any longer, the country had been pacified at last, and he had avenged his father for his wrongful death.
……..but, this came at a steep, steep price. Yoritomo had to dodge other assassination attempts, and spent the remaining years of his life constantly watching his back. He had paid for his power in blood and betrayal, and even after taking tonsure as a Buddhist monk,4 he never really found any peace. When he died at age 51, more than a few probably sighed in relief. Yoritomo was powerful, and crafty, but he was brutal and paranoid, and everyone around him spent their lives in constant fear. One can not help but see the similarities to certain dictators today.
P.S. if you go to Tsurugaoka Hachimangu shrine in Kamakura, Japan, you can see a tiny museum, just to the left of the inner sanctum, which has relics from Yoritomo’s life. It’s easy to miss, but tickets are cheap, and it’s amazing to see. We saw it in December 2022, just after watching the historical drama, and it was pretty amazing. The new, larger museum near the front entrance is also great. A visitor can easily spend half a day at Tsurugaoka Hachimangu, especially if you are a history nerd.
P.P.S. Official website for Shirahata Shrine in Fujisawa. No English, sorry, but it’s close to Fujisawa station if you’re in the neighborhood.
1 I couldn’t find a good translation of Kebiishi in English, but based on the duties, and based on varied definitions of “Sheriff” in English-speaking countries, this seemed the closest equivalent. Needless to say, being the sheriff of the capital city was a prestigious honor, but also comes with plenty of political strings attached.
2 Another revered character in the plays and art about Yoshitsune. Yoshitsune had married another one for political reasons, and Shizuka was technically his concubine, but they seemed to have genuinely loved one another and so she alone stayed with Yoshitsune at Oshu. She is often revered for her sincere, loving devotion, and for their doomed fate.
3 When we visit family friends in Japan, we often go to Fujisawa. It’s a nice seaside town, but I never knew that Yoshitsune was enshrined here. I might try to stop by one of these days and get a stamp for my book.
4 A Buddhist monk, as in an bhikkhu or renunciant. More on the terminology here. The practice of retiring to the monastic life was a common practice among the nobility in pre-modern Japan. His wife, Hojo no Masako, not only retired to the monastic life, but still took the reins of power after Yoritomo’s death becoming the famous “warlord nun“. Go-Shirakawa, the scheming emperor, had technically retired to the monastic life as well, but only as a means of dodging certain constraints on his power by the Fujiwara clan. Politics were…. complicated in those days, and few who retired truly let go of power, despite the Buddhist prohibition for Buddhist monks to be involved in politics. Then again, even now some monks fail to heed this prohibition either. Once again, politics and religion should not mix.
Also, at the risk of being sanctimonious, I wonder if Yoritomo’s Buddhist devotion did him much good in the afterlife, given how many people he had murdered. This is not unlike the ancient king in India, Ajatashatru, who while devoted to the historical Buddha Shakyamuni, had also murdered his way to the top. Because of the weight of his crimes, Ajatashatru’s devotion and progress on the Buddhist path was greatly hindered for many lifetimes to come according to Shakyamuni. I can’t help but think Yoritomo suffered the same fate. In other words, we all pay our debts some time.
Gleanings in Buddha-Fields 
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