Some years ago, I received a tenugui (手ぬぐい), a kind of cotton cloth traditdionally used in Japan, with the following calligraphy on it:
我逢人 gahōjin
“self meets person”
I have briefly mentioned here this notion, but today I wanted to delve into it more. I have struggled to find a clear reference, but according to one story I found, these were the words uttered by founder of Soto Zen in Japan, Dogen, after first encountering his new teacher Rújìng (如淨, 1163–1228) in China.1 Dogen had studied under the Tendai sect in Japan for years, but he was dissatisfied with the lack of rigor, and journeyed with his mentor to Song-dynasty China to learn more there. At the Tiantong Temple (天童寺, Tiāntóngsì) he met Rujing, and after their first meeting, Dogen was said to have uttered these words meaning “At last, I have met someone”.
The sentiment here is that even though we might be physically in a room full of people, we may not really connect with them. We all go through this feeling. In modern society, that sense of isolation in a crowded room may feel even more acute. It is indeed a noisy yet lonely world we live in, and as the Buddha described it, a world of aimless wandering.
Only when you connect with someone does it really feel like you meet them. This could be someone romantic, or someone like a mentor, or just a really good friend. When you connect with that person, you can speak your mind 100%, and they will understand you. Such encounters are indeed rare (I can probably think of maybe 10-15 people in my own life), but it’s an example of how karma can work in mysterious ways, maybe across many lifetimes.
It is also why, in my opinion, when one encounters the light of Amida Buddha, or the Dharma in general, it subtly alters one’s aimless trajectory. Imagine an asteroid hurtling through the void of space for eons, then one day it’s finally caught within the gravity of a star. It’s still moving, but now its trajectory gradually bends more and more toward the star. I like to think of encountering the Dharma like that.
It’s also a great example of how Zen phrases and idioms proliferate Japanese language.
Namu Shakamuni Butsu
P.S. Please enjoy the Maha Santa Claus Sutra, an old classic I wrote 6 years old (!). Happy Holidays!
1 In Chinese, he is known better is Tiāntóng Rújìng (天童如净, “Rujing of Tiantong [temple]”).
This is just another small, bonus post. A little while back, I was looking into the Obaku school of Zen, but even in Japanese information is pretty hard to find. However, I was able to find this sound clip from the NHK. This is a sound clip of a morning service at Manpuku-ji Temple, the head temple of the sect.
What distinguishes Obaku Zen (ōbaku-shū, 黄檗宗) from other Zen sects, and Japanese Buddhism in general is how late it was imported into Japan from China. Most sects imported during the Tang or Song dynasties, namely 8th or 11th centuries. But Obaku Zen came to Japan during the Ming Dynasty (14th century). It shares the same common lineage as Japanese Rinzai Zen, so they’re sibling sects. Yet, across centuries some things had diverged, and Obaku imports a lot more Ming-era Buddhist aspects, such as a fusion of Pure Land and Zen teachings (which came later in Chinese-Buddhist history), and changes to liturgy and pronunciation.1
So, if you ever see Obaku Zen liturgy (I’ve only seen a few screenshots), it sounds somewhat different even when it’s the same liturgy, because pronunciation changed over time in China.
Anyhow, just a minor nerd moment. Please enjoy!
1 Languages change and shift, including Chinese. Chinese-Buddhist liturgy imported to Japan from the Tang Dynasty would sound different than the same imported into Japan during the Ming. If that seems far-fetched, look at English language.
A while back, I talked about the history of Zen [particularly Rinzai Zen] and the samurai class in pre-modern Japan. Rinzai has a particularly convoluted history compared to other Buddhist sects in Japan due to its multiple waves of immigration from China, each unrelated to one another. Soto Zen’s history is notably different, but fairly convoluted in its own way, since it has two founders.
This concept of two founders started in the 19th century, after certain Soto Zen temples got into a spat about who was the actual founder of Soto Zen. If you’re reading this and know something about Japanese Buddhism, you might think that the answer is obvious: duh, it’s Dogen since he was the one who went to Song-dynasty China, and brought the tradition back. That was Eiheiji temple’s position at the time.
Conversely, Sojiji Temple took the position that it was Keizan’s influence a couple generations later that actually allowed it to flourish in Japan, establishing it as a proper sect, and not just an isolated temple. Further, until the 19th century, Dogen’s writings were kept secret, so very few Soto priests and students ever read it. So Dogen’s actual influence in the sect would be thus smaller than expected. Or so the argument goes.
Needless to say, eventually the two groups came to a compromise and agreed that both monks contributed to the growth of Soto Zen in Japan, each in their own way. Thus, in the Soto Zen tradition since, they are known as:
Dogen – “high founder” (高祖, kōsō)
Keizan – “great founder” (太祖, taisō)
Thus every 29th of September the Soto Zen liturgical calendar holds a memorial service for both founders known as Ryōsoki (両祖忌, lit. “dual founders memorial).
Even today, if you look at a Soto Zen obutsudan in Japan, you often see altar images like the ones linked here and here: namely an image of Shakyamuni Buddha in the middle, and Keizan on the left (facing right), and Dogen on the right (facing left). This is not an entirely unusual arrangement, by the way: in the Jodo Shinshu tradition, the Buddha Amida is in the middle, and often flanked by Shinran the founder, and Rennyo the restorer. Sometimes in Tendai Buddhism, you also see Shakyamuni Buddha flanked by Saicho the Japanese founder, and Zhi-yi the original Chinese founder.
The concept of “trinities” often appear in Buddhism, though not in the Western-Christian sense.
In any case, I am glad to see that Soto Zen was able to reconcile this dispute in a way that feels harmonious to me. I have visited Sojiji a couple times over the years (since it is thankfully pretty close to my wife’s house),1 and it is a pretty neat temple. I haven’t visited Eiheiji yet as it is in a remote prefecture in Japan, but I am sure it’s quite a nice place to visit. Just like Keizan and Dogen, each temple enriches the Soto Zen community in its own way, and this helps broaden the community and make it more inclusive.
It is tempting to look at Japanese-Buddhist history and assign one sect to one founder, etc, but both Soto Zen and Rinzai Zen have histories that tend to defy this mold, and it’s important to recognize that religious history is organic and complicated, but also quite fascinating.
Namu Shakamuni Butsu
P.S. Moving back to two posts a week, now that the backlog is caught up.
P.P.S. Posting late, sorry! Made a scheduling mistake. 😅
1 The present location of Sojiji is actually fairly recent. It was in Fukui Prefecture (same as Eiheiji) for many centuries, and was a branch temple of Keizan’s main temple of Yōkōji (永光寺). Ironically, as Yokoji declined, Sojiji gained in prominence. But, history is funny this way.
I have been following the excellent Hellenistic Age Podcast as far back as the beginning of the Pandemic, and I always enjoy when Buddhist history overlaps with the Hellenistic Age of history.
Recently, the podcast featured a fascinating episode that covers the interaction between Buddhist India and the Roman Empire, particularly Roman Egypt.
Dr William Dalrymple shows how Roman and Indian cultural interaction was much more broad and influenced Buddhist art and culture, and vice-versa. It covers a lot of details that I definitely was unaware.
The podcast in general is great, but for readers here, definitely recommend.
This post is part four of four exploring the Ikko-Ikki Rebellions in 15th and 16th century Japan. You can find part one, part two and part three here.
The Ikko-Ikki Rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, and not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko-Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This is the final part of this series. I wanted to go into more depth on some parts, but I wanted to keep a good, easy pace, so summarized some parts a little, while focusing on others. The history Ikko-Ikki was far more extensive and complicated than I expected originally, and I didn’t want to turn this into an eight part series. 😙
If you want to know, please Dr Carol Tsang’s good. It’s quite a good read.
Simmering Tensions after 1488
The defeat of Togashi Masachika in 1488 by a coalition of rebellious retainers and ikko-ikki armies of Jodo Shinshu-sect followers was a watershed for the rebellions, but things settled for a time in a tense balance of powers in the province of Kaga. This balance of powers meant that there was no sole ruler of Kaga, and whenever trouble arose, the central Shogunate authorities had to rely on whomever might be able to help settle a dispute locally. Sometimes ikko-ikki were enlisted to help keep the peace, other times, local samurai were tasked with defeating an ikko-ikki army.
As stated in part three the reputation of Rennyo, the 8th Caretaker of the Honganji Mausoleum, suffered even though he was not part of the rebellions, and was not even in the province. By 1489, he resigned as Caretaker (monshu, 門主) and Rennyo spent his final years proselytizing while his son Jitsunyo (実如, 1458 – 1525) carried on as the 9th Caretaker. Rennyo passed away at Yamashina Honganji temple in 1499.
Dr Tsang shows that Jitsunyo was pretty quiet and conservative for his first decade as Caretaker, carefully compiling Rennyo’s notes and letters, maintaining his reforms to liturgy and so on. Primarily ecclesiastical affairs, in other words.
Then 1506 happened.
Uprisings and Crackdowns
Without getting too embroiled in politics at the time, let me summarize. The Ashikaga shogunate by 1506 was getting weaker and weaker after the Onin War, and their deputy shoguns, the Hosokawa and Hatakeyama clans, were increasingly manipulating the succession process for the Ashikaga.1 This led to disputes by other retainers, and a power struggle increasingly spilled over to the provinces.
Jitsunyo, the ninth Caretaker (monshu, 門主) of the Honganji was forcefully approached by deputy-shogun Hosokawa Masamoto who strong-armed Jitsunyo (literally) to lend him ikko-ikki troops to help his cause. Jitsunyo refused saying he was only a peaceful monk, and tried to escape Masamoto, but Masamoto caught up to him and he finally relented.
It’s noteworthy that this was the first time in Jodo Shinshu history that the monshu directly ordered his followers to battle (even if hesitatingly), but it set the pattern for the next few generations.
This also proved to be a huge problems for the Ikko-ikki . Different Jodo Shinshu communities owed allegiance to members of the Hatakeyama, others the Hosokawa. Some refused Jitsunyo, others came flocking to his banner, but in the end, enough Ikko-ikki came to Masamoto’s assistance to turn the tide of battle. This also set a pattern that continued in later generations when Jitsunyo’s grandson Shōnyo (証如, 1516 – 1554)2 became the tenth monshu.
The Tenbun War
Unlike Jitsunyo, Shōnyo was much less hesitant to mobilize Jodo Shinshu followers into fighting forces to accomplish aims. During a civil between temples in Kaga province in 1531, Dai-shō (大小) Ikki War, Shōnyo decisively defeated the rebel temples and their armies, reasserting Honganji control.
The following year, the Tenbun War (天分の乱, 1532-1536) involved yet another generation of Hosokawa clan members fighting for control of Japan, and Shōnyo actively helped Hosokawa Harumoto (Masamoto’s grandson). The Honganji armies carried the day with Ikko-ikki members turning their wrath on Kōfukuji Temple and burning it down, while also looting Kasuga Shrine next door. This really shocked the establishment.
In the constantly switching alliances of the time, Harumoto turned on them and enlisted NichirenIkki for help. Yes, Nichiren Buddhism had it’s own ikki societes, that destroyed Yamashina Honganji in 1532, and briefly administered the capitol of Kyoto for a time. Despite the series of losses, the Honganji’s mobilization efforts meant that they were more firmly in control of Kaga Province and could muster future armies if needed.
Further, in other provinces, Jodo Shinshu temples in the Hongaji hierarchy created by Jitsunyo wielded considerable influence throughout Japan. Starting with Rennyo, many temples organized jinaichō (寺内町, “temple towns”) that were fortified and exempt from taxation to military authorities. Samurai were not even allowed in these towns, a policy called funyū (不入, “no entry”). This was a problem for local warlords who needed revenue, but also had to constantly deal with fortified temple towns in their own province. A young Tokugawa Ieyasu (future Shogun of Japan) had to contend with his local Ikko-ikki garrisons in order to assert dominance over his domain in the early 1560’s.
But finally, the Ikko-Ikki met their match. Sort of.
War with Oda Nobunaga and Downfall
(A screenshot of the classic strategy game Nobunaga’s Ambition (taken from Nintendo Switch). This shows the Kaga province in the hands of the “Honganji”, more correctly the Ikko-Ikki. Western kids like me who grew up playing this game had no idea who “Honganji” was. 😝)
For the last 100 years, the Ikko-Ikki had gradually grown from disparate, rag-tag bands of rebels to mass-armies mobilized by the Honganji (and its lineage of monshu Caretakers) that warlords would court for military favors. However, the Ikko-Ikki finally met their match with Oda Nobunaga (織田 信長, 1534 – 1582). Nobunaga, star of the Nintendo game Nobunaga’s Ambition (screenshot above), would briefly unify Japan by the 1580’s, but he did so through brutal warfare and centralizing power. This meant destroying any opposition: not just the Ikko-Ikki, but other religious powers such as the sohei warrior-monks of the Tendai Sect. There could be only one sun in the sky, and Nobunaga wanted tl be it.
Despite some initial friendly overtures by the 11th monshu Caretaker of the Honganji, Kennyo (顕如, 1543 – 1592), son of Shōnyo, Oda held a low opinion of the Honganji and it soon became clear that war was inevitable. The Honganji authorities rallied the Ikko-Ikki and fortified their position at temple complex of Ishiyama Honganji. According to one tradition, partially debunked by Dr Carol Tsang, the Ikko-Ikki by this era carried a banner that read:3
進者往生極楽 Advance and be reborn in the Pure Land 退者無間地獄 Retreat and be immediately reborn in Hell.
Nobunaga underestimated the Ikko-Ikki and sent a token force that was soon crushed. A similar, second attempt met the same fate. Finally, Nobunaga had enough and sent a much larger force, with his best generals, but the Ikko-Ikki were well-supplied and well-fortified. Thus began the 10-year long Siege of Ishiyama Honganji.
The end result of this massive and complicated siege was that eventually both sides tired, and ended in a truce, but the Honganji was definitely on the losing side of this truce. Nobunaga agreed to not execute its leadership, but the Honganji was totally burned down and later replaced with Osaka Castle. The Honganji also submitted to Nobunaga’s authority, though grudgingly. Some diehards tried to keep fighting but were destroyed.
Final Thoughts
Once Oda Nobunaga gained authority over all of Japan, the Ikko-Ikki as a phenomenon rapidly wound down and never appeared again. But, who were they?
The usual assumption in English was they they were religious fanatics, willing to die at the command of the monshu. And yet, Dr Tsang shows many examples where they disregarded the the monshu, and either didn’t fight, or sometimes they fight without the monshu’s approval. On the other hand, they had elements of millenarianism too: a deep desire not just to get better taxation, but as seen in Kaga province, to transform society.
Further complicating this was the widespread belief at the time that the monshu, in particular Shōnyo and Kennyo, did have the power to grant or deny rebirth in the Pure Land of Amida Buddha, vaguely similar to indulgences in medieval Christianity. Neither monshu promoted this idea, but they didn’t explicitly deny it either.
Thus, they were not just another peasant rebellion either. The shared religious identity that was Jodo Shinshu-sect Buddhism, in particular the Honganji lineage, gave them a sense of community that transcended the usual shifting alliances of the Warring States period. They weren’t just peasants either. Many urban merchants, artisans, rural jizamurai warriors, and others comprised the Ikko-Ikki in large numbers.
Were the rebellions a form of pre-modern democratic or Marxist revolution? No, they still submitted to authorities (secular and religious) and never reformed the local government in any way we would recognize as a democracy.
Thus, as Dr Tsang writes, the Ikko-Ikki defy easy explanation, but their impact on Japanese politics for the next few centuries, including how military authorities handled the arrival of Christian Europeans (i.e. zero-tolerance) and how the Edo Period reformed and brought all religious groups to heel, is undeniable.
P.S. posting this as a Friday bonus. Enjoy!
1 A pattern similar to previous eras of Japanese history, such as the Fujiwara manipulating the Imperial family, or the Hojo manipulating the succession of the Minamoto/Kamakura shoguns. Of course, this is not limited to Japanese history either, or even Asian history. Anytime there was a non-optimal family succession, it didn’t take long for retainers and advisors to weigh in…
2 Rennyo’s great-great-grandson, in other words.
3 The ikko-ikki at the Siege of Ishiyama did not carry this banner, but rather the allied Mōri clan in western Honshu, according to Dr Tsang.
This post is part three of three four exploring the Ikko Ikki. You can find part one and part two here. We have seen in part two Rennyo’s involvement in the rapidly growing Jodo Shinshu community, and how the seeds of conflict first began as a succession dispute between local samurai warlords. In this post we’ll see how things go off the rails…
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, and not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
Now on with the show…
Succession Crises and Retirement
The beginnings of organized conflict by the Ikko-Ikki began when the succession crisis between the Togashi brothers began in part two. As neither side could decisively destroy the other, and began to enlist more and more locals to help.
Masachika, as we saw previously, recruited from the Jodo Shinshu followers (a.k.a. the Honganji sect) of Yoshizaki, while his brother, Kōchiyo, recruited elements of the local rival Takada sect of Jodo Shinshu. Both communities formed ikki societies vowing to fight and help their preferred claimant to succeed.
Needless to say, in 1474 Masachika was ultimately victorious, but as Dr Carol Tsang notes, he did little to reward the Honganji ikko-ikki for their support. This did not go well with the Honganji followers. Dr Tsang shows that documents while somewhat scarce, and confusing, demonstrate how Honganji followers protested the ungrateful military rule, but were then brutally suppressed in 1475. It’s unclear if the uprising had any approval, let alone knowledge, by Rennyo the 8th Caretaker. There is evidence however, that his advisor Rensō had some involvement, and was expelled by the Honganji later. Being expelled or shunned by the sect was a virtual death-sentence for such a person because of the loss of community support.
Rennyo had worked hard to avoid a violent image to the Jodo Shinshu sect, yet the uprising in 1475 cemented the image of the ikko-Ikki as violent religious fanatics. Rennyo for his part left Yoshizaki that same year, reportedly under the cover of night, and travelled to nearby provinces such as the town of Deguchi in Kawachi Province, and then later returning to Ōmi Province of his youth at a place called Yamashina. By 1480 he settled at Yamashina and lodging was built there for him. Soon after a new Honganji temple, called Yamashina Honganji (official homepage here) was built and completed by 1483. It is noteworthy that this temple was designed to be militarily secure, with earthworks, moats and so on. Such where the times they lived in.
While this happened Rennyo chose his firstborn son by his second wife, Jitsunyo (実如, 1458-1525), as the next Caretaker of the mausoleum after his firstborn son (Junnyo) by his first wife had died that year. We will meet Jitsunyo again in a later post.
Overthrow
Meanwhile, after 1475 the ikko-ikki of Kaga Province not only rebelled and refused to send tax revenues, other neighboring communities started doing the same. In Etchū and Hida Provinces next door, refugees from the 1475 uprising had setup communities, and several uprisings are recorded at this time, though documents are pretty thin on what happened. The Honganji followers were able to resist crackdowns by samurai overlords because the local ikko-ikki groups formed powerful alliances that assisted one another in times of need. The sense of shared religious identity, plus religious belief they were only doing what was right, set them apart from other mundane peasant uprisings.
As the ikko-ikki groups took over and divided up territory amongst themselves, they took on increasing administrative responsibility, often county (gun 群) by county. Until the year 1530, these ikko-ikki groups did not answer to the Honganji, and acted semi-autonomously. One of these ikko-ikki might seize land from the landowners in Kyoto, another neighboring ikko-ikki might settle tax disputes between its landowner and local peasants. It was all over the map. The military establishment would sometimes lean on the Honganji leadership (i.e. Rennyo then later Caretakers) to exert pressure on these groups if needed, but otherwise the local ikko-ikki groups ruled as they pleased, independent of one another, sometimes they even threatened the Honganji for interfering. There was essentially no functional central authority in Kaga Province.
In any case, the conflict in Kaga came to a head by 1488, Togashi Masachika had burned enough bridges with supporters that they rose up and overthrew him. This included members of the Jodo Shinshu Honganji sect (ikko-ikki), but also his samurai retainers and other non-religious ikki groups. He was widely unpopular, and people had enough. Masachika had been away for a time helping the Ashikaga shoguns on a campaign (i.e. currying favor with the central authorities), when a full-blown rebellion erupted. Masachika, hurried home, but was besieged at Takao (高尾城, takōjō) Castle.1 Try as he might, Masachika was unable break the siege, and within days, Masachika’s remaining forces were overwhelmed and destroyed. Masachika was no more.
Once the dust settled, Masachika’s uncle, Togashi Yasutaka, was installed as the governor.
Dr Tsang explains that there are two noteworthy things about the downfall of Togashi Masachika:
The rebel army wasn’t comprised of peasants, but large section of the province’s population, from lowly social outcast communities (tanners and such), to Masachika’s own family and retainers. It wasn’t a “peasant rebellion”, but a broad coalition.
During the wars in 1473 and in 1488, the Ikko-Ikki played a major influence in deciding who would govern the province. This kind of popular sovereignty (or at least popular influence on sovereignty) had never really existed in Japan before. In the classical period (aka the Heian Period) it was a bureaucratic aristocracy. Under military rule of the Shoguns, it was a feudal system based on grants and titles. Now, for the first time lower class people in the province were actively weighing in on who should govern.
However, this was only the first phase of the Ikko-Ikki. As we’ll see in part four (yes, series keeps growing…), the ragtag groups would grow even stronger in later generations.
Aftermath
Something to note here is that Rennyo had very little to do with these uprisings in Kaga province. Although his proselytizing efforts greatly increased the popularity of Jodo Shinshu-sect Buddhism in the countryside, and in so doing, helped forge a common identity that allowed the ikko-ikki to form such large communities, he was never involved in these uprisings, and would find out about it later since he was in a different province. Further, when chastised by Rennyo, the ikko-ikki paid little heed. They were fed up, and going to rebel anyway. The genie was out of the bottle, in other words, and Rennyo couldn’t put it back.
Nevertheless, the central authorities in Kyoto didn’t see it that way. Rennyo took a lot of blame for his “unruly followers” and was pressured to write a letter castigating them for their actions. The letter did little to change the situation, and by 1489, Rennyo retired as the Caretaker of the Honganji mausoleum, allowing his son Jitsunyo to take over. It was an ignominious ending for someone who had otherwise made huge contributions to Jodo Shinshu Buddhism and Japanese Buddhism as a whole.
P.S. I couldn’t find any cool historical photos from this particular era. Historical documents and evidence seem to be pretty thin based on Dr Carol Tsang’s book, so there isn’t much media or art. There would be plenty of artwork depicting the Ikko-Ikki in later generations.
1 The castle is no more, but you can see photos of the park here. I am also a bit confused by the name as it should be read as Takao (高尾), but the pronunciation, as listed in Japanese sources is Takō. Call it a quirk of Japanese language, I guess.
Lately, I’ve been enjoying a fantastic history podcast called Grey History, covering the French Revolution in detail. While enjoying this show I started thinking about a famous peasant uprising in medieval Japanese history called the Ikko-Ikki rebellions of the 16th century.
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This post is part two of three exploring the Ikko Ikki, of which part one is here. We can’t talk about the Ikko-Ikki until we cover the life of the 8th-generation Caretaker (monshu, 門主) of the Honganji mausoleum: Rennyo.
I originally intended to do only two posts, but as I wrote this one I realized there was too much interesting detail, and now it has split into three.
Enter Rennyo
As we saw in part one, Jodo Shinshu had somewhat unorthodox origins as a fully lay-oriented sect of Buddhism, through the work of Shinran in the 12th century. Shinran like many disciples of Honen, had been exiled and defrocked. Shinran took this in stride, married, and continued to spread the Pure Land Buddhist teachings he had learned from Honen to provincial people until we returned from exile and died in Kyoto.
His mausoleum (later called the Honganji temple) was managed by his descendants for generations. Like other families in medieval Japan (and other medieval societies), marriages by Shinran’s descendants were arranged to help benefit the family political, economically, etc. These descendants managed the mausoleum, while also building powerful alliances with samurai clans, or influential disciple families in the provinces. Some even married into the aristocracy in Kyoto. Shinran’s various disciples in the provinces went on to found various sects of Jodo Shinshu, while the Honganji remained significant, but not very influential.
By the time of the disastrous Onin War in the 15th century, Rennyo (蓮如, 1415–1499) had been born to the 7th generation caretaker Zonnyō (存如, 1396–1457).1 His mother was of unknown origin, but it is thought that she was a maidservant of Zonnyō, and thus politically risky. She was sent away, and Zonnyō married a woman named Nyoen from an influential family. Rennyo and his step mother did not get along well, and suffice to say, there was a succession struggle between him and Nyoen’s son, but Rennyo won out in the end thanks to the powerful Hino clan (the same clan that married into the reigning Ashikaga Shoguns). Rennyo had also, as per tradition in the family, spent time training at Kofukuji temple in Nara, and could claim some tenuous connections to the prestigious Fujiwara clan through the Kujō cadet branch.
As Jodo Shinshu grew in influence, problems between the community in his native province of Ōmi, near Kyoto, and the powerful Tendai sect arose. Ostensibly, this was due to perceived heresies by the Jodo Shinshu sect, but there’s plenty of evidence that the Tendai sect viewed the growth of Jodo Shinshu as an impact to their fiefdom revenue. Before long, armed conflict with the Tendai sects warrior-monks arose, and the Jodo Shinshu community suffered greatly. The community attempted to fight back, organizing defenses (a forerunner to later Ikko-Ikki armies), bribing the Tendai sect to back off, etc, but the Tendai persisted.
Ministry At Yoshizaki
Bronze statue of Rennyo at the remains of Yoshizaki Gobō temple. Photo by 藤谷良秀, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Rennyo decided it was safer for everyone involved for him to leave, and eventually he retreated to a remote village named Yoshizaki (吉崎) in the province of Echizen in the year 1471. Yoshizaki had a number of advantages, including a large, existent community of Jodo Shinshu followers, distance from Tendai-sect centers of power, and political remoteness, and yet it was on a coastal trade route so it was prosperous too. Soon a temple, now known as Yoshizaki Gobō (吉崎御坊) was founded the same year. The official website (Japanese only) for Yoshizaki Gobō has some neat photos and illustrations, though bear in mind that the original temple was destroyed 1506, and reconstructed centuries later.
It was here that Rennyo and his proselytizing work really took off.
For context, Shinran the founder (and Rennyo’s ancestor) had lived in exile in the eastern provinces and spent much time there teaching the Pure Land am faith as he understood it. Even after he was pardoned and returned to Kyoto in his final years, the communities out in the principles (i.e. his disciples) continued for generations, each in isolated pockets. These communities grew and diverged gradually, but were always more numerous and influential than the Honganji branch under Rennyo’s ancestors.
Thus, when Rennyo showed up, things were a little tense. A major regional sect was the Takada sect (shinshū takadaha, 真宗高田派) which still exists today. I spent a weekend trying to figure out how the Takada sect’s version of Jodo Shinshu differed from the Honganji sect, but couldn’t really find any “ah ha” moments. They both revere Shinran, both recite the nembutsu, both revere Amida Buddha, etc., so the differences feel like they are mostly administrative and liturgical. Jodo Shinshu without the Honganji, in other words. The question, it seems, was basically who had the final say on doctrinal matters.
Rennyo’s Letters
Rennyo was a very active letter writer and these letters (ofumi, 御文) were instrumental in helping to strengthen and clarify the message and build relationships with local communities. I’ve talked about the most famous letter, the Letter on White Ashes, before, but I can say with personal experience that Rennyo’s letters overall are quite good and helpful in clarifying Jodo Shinshu teachings. You can find a collection of them here. I highly recommend reading the letter On Pilgrimage in the Snow (number 6 in the link above).
Side note: these letters (formally called the gobunsho 御文書), were compiled by later generations and are now an important part of Jodo Shinshu liturgy. When my mother-in-law passed away, and we attended her first year memorial in Japan, our local priest (a family friend) recited the Letter on White Ashes, after we recited Shinran’s hymn, the Shoshinge. That’s how important they are. You can see an excellent example of this here on Youtube:2
Within years, Yoshizaki grew to a much larger community, and Rennyo clashed with other existing Jodo Shinshu sects, while also reforming liturgy and standardizing aspects of the faith. Much of these power struggles at the time had as much to do with politics as they did doctrine.
For example, the aforementioned Takada-sect was allied with one Togashi Kōchiyo warlord who was in a bitter feud with his brother Togashi Masachika. The battles for rulership of Echizen and Kaga provinces spilled over into Yoshizaki when the defeated Masachika showed up to recruit members and rebuild his forces. Thus a local ikkō-ikki was formed to assist him.
As we’ll see, this was only the beginning …
P.S. I posted this too early on accident. Please enjoy, and apologies for any typos.
1 random and useless factoid – Rennyo was alive during the final days of the Eastern Roman Empire, and roughly contemporary with its final ruler, Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos. Of course, Japan and Constantinople didn’t really know of one another. Still, it’s weird to think how both historical events were going on roughly at the same time.
2 The language of the gobunsho letters feels archaic now to a native Japanese speaker (or a language nerd like me), but at the time, this was how people spoke, and thus it was very accessible compared to more formal texts that monks in monasteries wrote.
April 8th in the Japanese-Buddhist tradition is the birthday of Shakyamuni Buddha, also known as “the Buddha”, “Siddhartha Gautama”, and so on. Many other countries celebrate on the 8th day of the 4th lunar month, so traditions vary.1
But I digress.
In Buddhism, a Buddha is a being who, across many lifetimes of hard work, religious discipline, and great compassion towards others fulfills the quest for Enlightenment. Not only that, a Buddha then teaches and awakens others rather than hoarding the joys all to themselves.
This altar, which is in the basement of Zojoji Temple in Tokyo, Japan, contains a tiny relic of the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni. It was donated in the 1950’s by India as a goodwill gesture after being discovered in an archeological site after countless centuries. Pretty neat story, actually, though not available in English.
So, within our tradition Shakyamuni Buddha (i.e. “the Buddha of the Shakya clan”) is what we call the historical Buddha who around 500 BCE fulfilled his path and taught others the Dharma: the principle of existence (think: “Law of Gravity” kind of stuff).
Thus, today is his 🙏🏼 birthday. Was he really born on the 8th day of the 4th month? Who knows.
The message of the story is more important than historical details: any sentient being, given enough time and dedication can fully liberate themselves, and then through awakened compassion, liberate others as well. Even someone who is totally rotten now can, given enough time and the right circumstances, accomplish great good.
The Dharma taught by the Buddha is for all. The Dharma is free, beneficial, and illuminating.
A joyous Buddha’s Birthday to you all! 🙏🏼
Namu Shakamuni Butsu (南無釈迦牟尼仏)
P.S. April 7th is the birthday of my favorite Japanese-Buddhist monk, Honen.
1 The Theravada tradition of South East Asia celebrates Buddhist holidays according to an entirely different calendar than the Mahayana tradition described here. As far as I am concerned, none of these holidays have reliable historicity, so just like Jesus’s birthday not actually taking place in December (taxes were not collected that time of year), the date is kind of artificial, and frankly doesn’t really matter. One date is as good as another.
I wrote about visiting a couple major Zen temples in Kyoto last summer: Tenryuji and Kenninji, but I realized that I totally forgot to post photos from Kenninji Temple. Of the two, we liked Kenninji more, and I am excited to share some of the history and art of this temple.
Both temples belonged to the Five Mountains temple network of the Muromachi Period of Japanese history, so they were very elite temples of the Rinzai Zen sect. However, Kenninji, like many famous Buddhist temples, has burned down a number of time over the centuries, including the disastrous Onin War, and reconstructed again. Many of the structures today are relatively new, or were granted from nearby temples to help consolidate.
While Tenryuji is on the western outskirts of Kyoto, near the iconic Arashiyama district, Kenninji is in eastern Higashiyama district of Kyoto. The official website of Kenninji is here, but I don’t think there is an English version. There is a nice overhead visual tour of the temple from the official tourism channel here (close captioning does work):
Another aerial tour here:
In terms of size, Kennin-ji feels smaller than Tenryuji which had a large park around it. Kennin-ji is firmly inside a busy neighborhood in Kyoto, and thus tends to feel a bit more cramped at first. There is a soba shop next to Kenninji I highly recommend by the way, to the right of the abbot’s quarters near the back exit.
If you go through the main entrance, you’ll see this gate, which is normally closed, so you are supposed to walk around it toward the main building.
The same gate, but as seen from its left as you walk around…
The pathway takes you to a scenic building called the Hojo Teien (方丈庭園, “10-foot garden”?) which is apparently the former Abbot’s quarters,1 but now includes many scenic sites. The website includes a nice gallery of the different rooms, including some I forgot to photograph here.
Within the abbot’s quarters are a series of rooms where you can find galleries of famous works stored at Kennin-ji. One of the most famous of all are the Raijin and Fujin screens shown below (gold screens on the left) painted by the famous Tawaraya Sōtatsu (c. 1570 – c. 1640):
As well as various ink paintings called shōheki-ga (障壁画):
I know I’ve seen these paintings before in college, when I was taking a course on Japanese art, but unfortunately, I don’t have any information about them now. From what I can figure out, this painting was called the Chikurin-shichiken-zu (竹林七賢図), or the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Forest“. It was painted by Kaiho Yusho (海北友松, 1533–1615) in his 60’s. The painting depicts seven sages famous of the Western Jin Dynasty of China, who retreated to a bamboo forest and engaged in a mixture of refined conversation, heavy drinking, and lively music. These bohemian Seven Sages are apparently subjects of other works of art at the time.
Also, as I was writing this, I also realized that the calligraphy in the back (second image) is a another work of art: it’s a highly stylized calligraphy of the words 風神 (fūjin, the wind god), and 雷神 (raijin, the thunder god) by Kanazawa Shoko (金澤翔子, 1985 – present) an artist with Down’s Syndrome. Pretty amazing.
Facing out from the abbot’s quarters, you can see a nice sand garden called the Dai-on-en (大雄苑):
The abbot’s quarters also surrounds another sculpted garden called the Cho-on-tei (潮音庭):
We also saw lotus paintings like these:
Finally, the quarters connects to an altar room which contains a gorgeous ceiling mural of two dragons overlooking an altar:
The mural was painted in 2002 to commemorate the 800th anniversary of the temple, by one Koizumi Junsaku (1924–2012), and the altar itself (shown at the bottom) depicts Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical founder of Buddhism, flanked by his disciples.
We picked up a lot of goods at Kenninji: my son liked the twin dragons, and got a pilgrimage book with that image on the cover, and my wife got an incense holder with the image of Raijin and Fujin (based on the gold screen above). I picked up a miniature copy of the Kannon Sutra which I think was meant as an omamori charm.2
As temples go, Kenninji was something we knew nothing about, but it was quite a treat to visit. Foreigners who visit famous temples in Japan often remark that Buddhism feels like a museum piece, and while it is true that the Five Mountains temple system in Japan (including Kenninji and Tenryuji) is somewhat defunct now, it was clear that people really still cared about these temples, but it’s not always in ways obvious to Westerners.2 That said, Kenninji looks like a well-loved temple, and a credit to the Rinzai Zen tradition and it’s flowering culture of the era.
1 Apparently, 方丈庭園 was a common, poetic term used for major temples that had a scenic abbot’s quarters like the one showed above. Chion-in was another such example.
2 Language barrier is a big part of this, plus various unrealistic expectations that Western Buddhists have of what they expect temples to be like in Asia, compared to how people who grew up Buddhist practice. But that’s a story for another rant…
Having travelled in a westerly direction for a long time, and finally turning south at Samarkand, the 8th century Buddhist monk Xuan-zang is finally approaches the hinterlands of India, birthplace of the Buddha.
A map of northern India including the Gandhara region in the northwest (modern Pakistan and Afghanistan). Created using Inkarnate, apologies for any mistakes.
In our last episode, Xuan-zang had gone as far as the city of Balkh (modern Afghanistan) and was deep in “Buddhist country” northwest of India. Times are very different now, but it was a major bastion of Buddhist learning at the time. From here, Xuan-zang moves to Bamiyan and the famous statues there.
Journey to Bamiyan
While staying in Balkh (part 4), Xuan-zang befriended a local monk named Prajñakara. Prajñakara was, according to Xuan-zang, a follower of Hinayana Buddhism (instead of Mayahana Buddhism), and yet Xuan-zang respected him so much they decided to journey the next leg together to India: Bamiyan.
These two besties, along with their caravan, had to traverse the Hindu Kush mountains to reach Bamiyan.
Not unlike the crossing of the Tian Shan mountains (part 2), the overload route was extremely dangerous. Xuan-zang reported snow drifts up to 20-30 feet tall, and the weather was a constant blizzard:
These mountains are lofty and their defiles deep, with peaks and precipices fraught with peril. Wind and snow alternate incessantly and at midsummer it is still cold. Piled up snow fils the valleys and the mountain tracks are hard to follow. There are gods of the mountains and impish sprites which in their anger send forth monstrous apparitions, and the mountains are infested by troops of robbers who make murder their occupation.
page 45, The Silk Road Journey with Xuanzang by Sally Hovey Wriggins
Thankfully the more experienced Xuan-zang and his team crossed safely and with fewer casualties than past mountain crossings. In time they reached Bamiyan (بامیان in Dari language).
Bamiyan and the Great Buddhas
Bamiyan, since antiquity, has been an oasis town residing where the Hindu Kush and Koh-i-Baba mountain ranges meet, and is a high-altitude, cold-desert climate. Nonetheless, Xuan-zang described Bamiyan as producing wheat, fruit and flowers, as well as pasturage for cattle and such. Due to the climate, Xuan-zang stated that people wore fur and coarse wool, and their personality was similarly coarse and uncultivated. Yet he praised their sincere religious faith.
Up until 2001, the town of Bamiyan was dominated by several sites, including two massive Buddha statues which were built during the reign of the so-called “White Huns” or Hephathalites. The Huns themselves were not Buddhist, but allowed Buddhist worship to continue and devout local patrons helped fund the statues perhaps as an act of piety. Interspersed between the statues were monasteries and grottoes carved into the cliffside.
Of the two “great Buddha” statues, the “eastern” statue depicts Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical founder, measuring 38-meters, while the western statue depicts Vairocana Buddha1 measuring 55-meters. Sadly these no longer exist, as they were destroyed by the Taliban in 2001. In Xuanzang’s time, the status were painted and decorated. The western statue was painted red, while the eastern was white. Both had blue-orange robes, and adorned with gold. This coloration lasted at least until the 12th century.
Interestingly, Xuan-zang described a third, reclining statue of the Buddha at Bamiyan, but no evidence has been found yet of this statue.
In any case, Xuan-zang was greeted by the king of Bamiyan and the local monks, adherents to an obscure sect of “Hinayana Buddhism” that taught that the Buddhas transcended “earthly laws”, took Xuan-zang and his party on a tour of the monastery and valley. My book and online research doesn’t clarify which sect or what this means.
Despite the warm reception, it doesn’t appear that Xuan-zang stayed all that long, and eventually moved on through the Hindu-Kush mountains to Kapisi next.
Kapisi and the Chinese Prince
Next through the Hindu Kush mountains was the city of Kapisi (also known as Kapisa, Chinese: 迦畢試 Jiapishi), which was the capitol of the local Kapisi Kingdom near the modern city of Bagram. Xuan-zang reports that once again, the weather was very difficult, and they even got lost at one point, but some locals helped guide them safely to Kapisi.
Storm clouds part, offering a rare glimpse through the crisp air at Bagram Air Field, Afghanistan, Dec. 18, 2008. The high altitude of the Hindu Kush mountain range creates a harsh climate ranging from more than 100 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer to below-freezing temperatures in the winter. Photo by U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Samuel Morse (Released), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
As with Bamiyan, Xuan-zang received a cold reception from the people, but was greeted by the local king whom he described as “intelligent and courageous”, and ruled over the neighboring areas.
Bamiyan and Kapisi are both places that have seen countless historical events. Alexander the Greats army marched through Kapisi in the spring of 329 BCE, and the Kushan Empire established Kapisi at its first capital in the first century CE. It was the Kushans in particular who were instrumental in helping Buddhism spread to East Asia (and now the world) especially under the great Emperor Kanishka (reigned 127 – 150 CE).
During the reign of Kanishka, a Chinese prince had resided in a monastery in Kapisi as a political hostage. When the prince returned home, he sent gifts and offerings to the monastery in gratitude. Centuries later during the 7th century CE, Xuan-zang paid homage to this prince at the monastery (called the “Hostage Monastery”), where it as thought that the prince’s treasure was buried. According to Xuan-zang’s account, he suggested they dig under a statue of the Buddhist deity Vaiśravaṇa,2 and after a time, the treasure was discovered. Because Xuan-zang was also Chinese, like the prince, it was assumed that his fellow countrymen from the past helped guide them to the treasure.
Later, Xuan-zang was invited by the king of Kapisi to preside over a religious debate amongst the Buddhist clergy, and (again based on Xuan-zang’s account) he was well-versed in the Buddhist doctrines and won, while his opponents only knew their own limited doctrine. One cannot help but roll their eyes slightly. 🙄
Finally, Xuan-zang ran into Hindu ascetics for the first time. Hinduism as we know it, arose roughly the same time as Buddhism and developed in parallel, not one from the other. A common and incorrect statement is that Buddhism descended from Hinduism; they drew from the same cultural and religious well, but arrived at different conclusions. At this time in history, Hinduism was on the rise as Buddhism began a slow decline. Since Hinduism had never reached China, Xuan-zang was not aware of it and spoke ill of the ascetics he encountered, describing them as decadent, untrustworthy, and selfish. It’s unclear why he had such a negative first impression though. Later, in India, he would invest much time debating against them in philosophical contests.
However, Xuan-zang’s joruney was not done. He needed to reach the next destination before crossing into India: Jalalabad.
…. which we’ll talk about in our next post. Thanks for reading!
1 Vairocana is a “cosmic Buddha” that first appears in a Mahayana version of the “Brahma Net Sutra” (the Pali Canon/Theravada version is unrelated). Vairocana, the “Buddha of the Sun” is also the great Buddha statue at Nara, Japan, and is particularly important in the esoteric Buddhist tradition where it is called Maha-Vairocana.
A photo taken by me in 2010 of the central image of the great hall at Todaiji Temple in Nara, Japan: Vairocana Buddha.
2 Vaiśravaṇa, known in Japanese Buddhism as Bishamonten (毘沙門天), can be seen at the famous temple of Todaiji in Nara. I took this photo back in 2010 when visiting there.
A photo of a statue of the Buddhist deity Vaiśravaṇa, known as either Bishamonten, or Tamonten, in Japanese Buddhism. Photo taken at main hall at Todaiji Temple in Nara, Japan.
Indeed, what we see today of Buddhism in Japan and beyond is directly related to the things that Xuan-zang saw along the Silk Road, even if the connection is not obvious at first sight.
Gleanings in Buddha-Fields 
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