Fall Ohigan 2024: Don’t Shoot Yourself In the Foot

Hello readers,

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!”
Translation by Acharya Buddharakkhita

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.
Honen the Buddhist Saint, page 56

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.
Honen the Buddhist Saint, page 56

Sometimes, that’s all you can do.

Hanging Out With Kannon at Sanjusangendo

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.

You can see a photo of the 1,000-armed Kannon here.

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:

Language	Mantra Pronunciation
Sanskrit	Oṃ vajra-dharma hrīḥ svāhā
Japanese, katakana script³	オン　サラバ　ダルマ　キリ　ソワカ
Romaji	On saraba daruma kiri sowaka

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.

Neither Priest Nor Layman

I’ve talked a lot recently 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.

Portrait of Shinran, Nanbokucho-period artist, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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.

Ikkyu and Rennyo: The Odd Couple

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.
Source

To which Rennyo wrote back:

阿弥陀にはへだつる心なけれども　
蓋（ふた）ある水に月は宿らじ

Although my heart is not estranged from Amida Buddha,
the moonlight does not reside where water has a lid.
Source

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.
Source

To which Rennyo replied:

極楽は　十万億土と説くなれど　近道すれば南無のひと声

It is taught that the Pure Land is indeed 10,000,000,000,000 lands away, but if you’re looking for a short-cut, recite the nembutsu.
Source

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.
Source

Ikkyu was referring to a famous portrait of Shinran depicts him as wearing his black clerical robes, and shaved head:

Nanbokucho-period artist, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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.

The Founding of Japan, Sort Of

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.

An illustration of Emperor Jimmu with the Golden Kite (bird) from a 1920’s book. Photo by English: Tsukioka Yoshitoshi (1839–1892), Publisher: Funatsu Chûjirô. 日本語: 月岡芳年（日本人、1839–1892）, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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.

Echoes of the Past

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.

A photo of the fields at Takadachi today, photo by Sen-K, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

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.

The Downfall of Two Brothers

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.

Source: Wikipedia

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.

Saicho: Founder of Tendai in Japan

June 4th is the yearly memorial service in Japan’s Tendai sect of Buddhism called Sangé-é (山家会) for its founder, Saichō (最澄, 767 – 822). I am writing this post a bit late this year, but I wanted to explore the life of Saicho a little bit and why he matters.

Saicho as depicted in a Heian-Period painting.

If you look at the history of Japanese Buddhism, Saicho doesn’t elicit much historical attention and discussion, even compared to contemporary rivals at the time like Kūkai, founder of Shingon-sect Buddhism. Yet, the sect he founded in Japan was overwhelmingly the largest and most influential for centuries (probably too much so), until it finally faded into the background in the late medieval period. This is why you rarely see mention of Saicho or Tendai these days: it’s far smaller now than it was in the past.

Also, to confuse matters further, Saicho is only the founder of the Japanese branch of Tendai. It was the Buddhist monk Zhi-yi (智顗, 538 – 597), who originally started the Tian-tai (天台) sect in China in the 7th century and it remains a very influential sect across many areas of mainland-Buddhist Asia (Korea, Vietnam, etc). Tian-tai in Japan (pronounced as Tendai) reveres Zhiyi as well.

Anyhow, Saicho was a monk at a time when Buddhism had already been established in Japan, primarily around the old capitol of Nara, yet was limited to a very tightly regulated number of schools and monks per school. Besides the Yogacara (Hossō) and Huayan (Kegon) schools, the rest are very obscure today. These schools had all been imported from Tang-Dynasty China, and represent “branch” schools to the mother temples there. The existing schools at that time were obligated to perform rituals on behalf of the Emperor to prevent calamities, cure diseases, bring prosperity to the nation and other political needs. In turn, the government allocated new acolyte monks every year, and allowed them to continue. However, beyond that, Buddhism had very little reach in the rest of Japanese society. This is very different than the bottom-up approach in China.

Mount Hiei today, photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Saicho was ordained as an official monk, but soon left and retreated to Mount Hiei where he underwent ascetic practices, rather than stay in the urban temple complexes. In time, he attracted other like-minded disciples, and a small, informal monastic community developed there on the mountain. Further, he carved an image of the Medicine Buddha, and later lit an oil lamp in reverence to the Buddha, praying that the light would never be extinguished. This lamp, the Fumetsu no Hōtō (不滅の法灯) was the subject of a previous post. By this point, the foundations of the temple of Enryakuji were laid.

Later, by a lucky coincidence, the capitol of Japan was moved away from Nara to Kyoto (back then Heian-kyō) in 795. Since Mount Hiei happened to be to the northeast of Kyoto, and since the northeast was considered an inauspicious direction in classic Chinese geomancy, the presence of a Buddhist temple there (namely Enryakuji) helped protect the new capital from negative influences. The Emperor, for his part, saw this new Buddhist sect has a counterbalance to the old guard sects in Nara. Thus, Saicho’s star quickly rose.

The Eastern Pagoda (Buddhist *stupa*), of Enryakuji Temple, 663highland, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons

Now with sponsorship from the new Imperial court, Saicho was dispatched to sail back to China in 804, gather more resources and help bring Buddhism to a wider audience. On the same diplomatic mission, another promising young monk named Kūkai was also dispatched. More on him later. Of the four ships that sailed out to sea, only 2 survived a storm at sea (Saicho and Kukai were each aboard one of the surviving ships).

Saicho’s had mixed success in China. He did not speak Chinese (he could only read it), but was able to get official permission from the Chinese government to travel to Mount Tiantai. There he stayed for 135 days. Saicho later received limited training in esoteric Buddhism, which was all the rage in Tang-Dynasty China (and Japan at this time). It wasn’t until the second generation of Tendai monks who went to China (Ennin for example) that esoteric training really developed in the Tendai sect in Japan. Saicho also copied many sutras and texts in order to provide fresh copies back in Japan (printing did not come until much later, despite flourishing in China).

Guoqing Temple (*guó qīng sì*, 国清寺) on Mount Tiantai, head of the Tiantai Order. Photo by Joshtinho, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Nonetheless, when Saicho returned to Japan 8 months later, he was feted for his accomplishments. He got to work using his newfound training, and his collection of sutras brought back from China to petition the Emperor to start a new sect derived from the Chinese Tiantai Buddhism he trained under. Saicho’s vision was slightly different than Tiantai Buddhism, particularly because he envisioned a purely “Mahayana” sect, not just a sect with Mahayana Buddhism on top of earlier Buddhist tradition. This meant different ordination platforms, different training, etc. It was a big controversy at the time, and the powerful Yogacara (Hossō in Japanese) school based in Nara really gave him grief over it.²

In Dr Paul Groner’s book on Saicho, he explains Saicho’s vision further:

In his works directed against Tokuitsu and the Hossō [Yogacara] School, Saichō argued that all people had the Buddha-nature [capacity for Enlightenment] and could attain Buddhahood. Receiving the Fan wang [Bodhisattva precepts] ordination and adhering to the precepts were religious practices open to anyone. Anyone could receive a Fan wang ordination and anyone who had been correctly ordained could in turn confer the Fan wang precepts on others….

Saichō envisaged a system in which Tendai monks would be trained for twelve years on Mount Hiei and then go to live in the princes in order to perform good works, to preach, and to confer Fan wang ordinations.
Page 179

Further, Saicho really took the idea of unifying different Buddhist practices and traditions into an “umbrella tradition” to a new level. It wasn’t enough that the Lotus Sutra was the highest teaching (per Tiantai tradition), he wanted to really absorb other practices and traditions toward that end, and diffuse them across the country in a religious community that blurred the traditional lines between monks and laity.

Saicho’s zeal, his rising status in the new Imperial court at Kyoto, and his fresh training gave him a lot of leeway, and the Emperor granted his request. Thus, Tendai Buddhism (the Japanese branch of Tiantai) was born. It has a deep connection with the mother sect in China, but Saicho also added some innovations to it as well.

Saicho’s star was soon eclipsed after the other monk from the same diplomatic mission, Kūkai, who returned some time later and brought an extensive training program in esoteric Buddhism (something Saicho had only a partial training of). Because esoteric Buddhism was all the rage (until the Purge of 845), Kukai’s training and religious material he imported outshone Saicho. Kukai and Saicho tried to maintain a cordial relationship, but Saicho wasn’t willing to train under Kukai, and Kukai kept poaching disciples of Saicho’s so the two groups became somewhat acrimonious over time.

Saicho proved throughout his life that he was dedicated to the Lotus Sutra and the Buddhist path. He was a sincere ascetic in his youth, rather than a “career monk” like many others of his time, and held himself to high standards. The fact that attracted like-minded people around him, shows that he “walked the talk” too. In China, he underwent many trainings, copied many sutras, and didn’t stop learning and improving. It should be noted that Kukai and Saicho were both pioneers for journeying to China to bring back more Buddhist teachings, rather than past schools that relied on foreign monks to make the journey to remote Japan.

If Saicho had any virtue, it was zeal.

If Saicho had any fault, it was that he was perhaps stubborn.

Personally, I like Saicho, flaws and all. Like, I would have loved to sit with him on those early days on Mount Hiei, swap practice tips, get his advice, etc. I really like his enthusiasm and positivity. Much like Honen centuries later, Saicho was bold and motivated by sincere conviction. The Tendai sect morphed into something that I don’t think he anticipated but personally I blame politics more than the founder.

But anyway, this is all just my opinion.

As for me, I did an extra long home service for Saicho this week in his honor.

¹ Devout Buddhists in early Japanese history, such as Prince Shotoku, were devotees of the Lotus Sutra as well, but I don’t think there was any effort in those days to elevate it to the highest teachings, let alone make a new sect out of it. It was just there as part of the larger tradition.

² Acrimony between Tendai and Hosso schools of Buddhism continued for centuries, starting with Saicho’s disagreements with one Tokuitsu of Hossō. Both sects frequently faced off during official Buddhist debates at the Imperial court as well.

Separated by Centuries

This is another cool moment in Japanese history (previous post here) that I wanted to share while re-watching the drama Thirteen Lords of the Shogun. Shortly after the death of Kazusa Hirotsune, the head of the Genji (Minamoto) clan named Minamoto no Yoritomo, sought to finally take the fight to Heike (Taira) clan. The trouble was was that he had a rival within the Genji clan itself.

Yoshinaka as portrayed in woodblock print from 1866, source Wikimedia Commons.

The Genji clan was quite large by this time, going all the way back a few centuries to Emperor Saga in the early 9th century. By the time of the Genpei War (late 11th century), the clan had a number of sub-clans, domains and so on. One such branch was led by Yoritomo’s cousin, Kiso no Yoshinaka.¹ Yoshinaka and Yoritomo initially worked together, and Yoshinaka even sent his son, Yoshitaka (木曽義高), in good faith as a hostage at Yoritomo’s court in the city of Kamakura. However, the relationship quickly became estranged, and they competed for who could get to the capitol of Kyoto first to rescue the Emperor under house-arrest from the Heike clan.

What Yoshinaka didn’t know was that the scheming Emperor, Go-Shirakawa, was already in league with Yoritomo. Go-Shirakawa expressed gratitude to Yoshinaka, and even bestowed the lofty title of Asahi Shogun, or “Asahi” Commander of the Armed Forces, and commanded him to take the fight to the Heike. And yet, Go-Shirakawa still threw in his lot with with Yoshinaka’s cousin Yoritomo. Things quickly went downhill as Yoshinaka, realizing that he was being double-crossed, seized the Emperor briefly, and battled his cousin’s forces. In the end, Yoshinaka and his army were wiped out. His son, Yoshitaka, did not survive much longer despite being wed to Yoritomo’s daughter O-hime. This part of the historical drama is really sad because it was clear that Yoshitaka did nothing wrong, but was simply a victim of politics.

In the historical drama, and in Japanese literature, Yoshinaka is portrayed as sincere and well-meaning, but out of his league compared to the scheming of the Emperor and of Yoritomo. He was a genuine warrior, loved by his vassals, but court politics were beyond his ability, and he was ultimately betrayed by the very forces he sought to help. Seeing a pattern with Yoritomo?

So, why bring this up?

Yoshinaka’s remains were interred at a small Buddhist temple named Gichū-ji² in the city of Otsu, in Shiga Prefecture. Centuries later, the famous haiku poet, Matsuo Basho, visited the temple on one of this pilgrimages. Basho was evidentially an admirer of Yoshinaka and composed a haiku upon visiting the gravesite:

Japanese	Romanized	Rough Translation²
義仲の	Yoshinaka no	Is this not the mountain
寝覚めの山か	Mezame no yama ka	that Yoshinaka woke up on?
月悲し	Tsuki kanashi	The melancholy moon.

² any faults in the translation are my own

According to tradition, it is thought that one night while sleeping on a mountainside, Yoshinaka woke up and gazed at the moon. Here, on that same mountainside, the moon shines melancholy, still reflecting over the demise of Yoshinaka.

Later, when Basho passed away he was, according to his wishes, also interred at Gichū-ji so that he may rest alongside the admired warlord.

There’s a travel blog entry in Japanese that shows the temple grounds and the grave sites, while this page shows the temple.

It’s interesting that such a talented poet was so infatuated by this legendary, though ill-fated warlord that he would be buried alongside him despite the passage of centuries.

P.S. If you thought Yoritomo was a scallywag now, wait until you get to the murder of Yoritomo’s own half-brother, the talented general Yoshitsune.

P.P.S. Yoritomo also punished another branch of the Genji clan, the Genji of Kai province, by executing that lord’s young heir on suspicion of treason as well.

P.P.P.S. Yoritomo was, suffice to say, a cold-blooded ruler. Not surprisingly, the Shogunal military government he founded got off to a rotten foundation and struggled after his death. Unlike the video game character Edelgard, Yoritomo seemed to have no moral conviction. He wanted power and vengeance.

¹ Fun fact: the actor who played Kiso no Yoshinaka in the historical drama was also in Godzilla Minus One. He appears in the opening scene as a runway mechanic, Tachibana, talking to the ensign.

² The kanji characters 義仲 can be read as either “Yoshinaka”, as in Kiso no Yoshinaka’s name, or as “Gichū”, the name of the temple. Clever.

The Death of Kazusa Hirotsune

After finishing the Japanese historical drama, The Thirteen Lords of the Shogun,¹ I managed to buy the Blu-ray from Amazon JP before it was taken off shelves due to controversy with one of the actors. Lately, as life has finally calmed down a little, I have been watching it again. With the benefit of rewatching, and Japanese subtitles, I have picked up a lot more from the show including this tragic bit of history.

One of the climatic turnings points early in the drama is Minamoto no Yoritomo’s execution of one of his vassals, Kazusa Hirotsune in front of everyone. Hirotsune was made the scapegoat for a failed rebellion among local retainers, while the rebellion was appeased, Yoritomo had him killed to teach a lesson. Hirotsune’s innocence was only confirmed after his death.

Apparently, some version of this really happened.

Woodblock print of Kazusa Hirotsune by Utagawa Yoshitora, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

According to the end of the episode, the incident was recorded in a historical record called the Gukanshō (愚管抄). In that document, it states that Hirotsune was a big player of a dice game called Sugoroku and while he was playing with some other vassals, he was suddenly attacked and slain by another vassal, Kajiwa Kagetoki, on Yoritomo’s orders. Later, Kagetoki, was said to have purified and washed the blood off his sword at the waters of a holy spring nearby. Hirotsune was evidentially abrasive and butted heads with Yoritomo at times, but nonetheless he was innocent of provoking the rebellion. Nonetheless, the damage was done: the clan property was broken up and given to other vassals for their loyalty, and the Kazusa clan disappeared from history.

Eight hundred years later the lands of the Kazusa family are now part of a local orchard in Kanagawa Prefecture, Japan called the Juniso Kajuen (十二所果樹園). You can see it on Instagram here. It’s a very nice looking orchard, but visitors walking through that orchard would probably never guess that long ago this was once the domain of a powerful and influential warlord.

I guess what I find fascinating and tragic about all this is how someone powerful and wealthy can be struck down, possibly through no fault of their own, and with the passage of centuries very little trace of their legacy remains.

¹ not to be confused with the American series “Shogun”. The “Thirteen Lords” series was for Japanese TV only, and based on an entirely different historical event. Sadly, there is no English subtitles available which is a shame because I would argue that Thirteen Lords of the Shogun is a really fine drama and would be a huge hit overseas.

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