Tag: Rennyo

A Medieval Buddhist Revolution? The Ikko-Ikki part three

A Japanese mural depicting the Battle of Azukizaka in 1564. In this mural, multiple samurai warriors, carrying banners are combatting one another, so that it is difficult to tell who is who.

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:

  1. 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.
  2. 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.

Amida Buddha in Jodo Shinshu

Recently I had talked about Rennyo and his famous letters, also known as the gobunsho (御文書). These letters are sometimes overlooked by Western Jodo Shinshu Buddhists, but are a core part of the tradition.

6. On Norms of Conduct

If there are any of you who have heard the meaning of our tradition’s other-power faith and become decisively settled, you must store the truth of that faith in the bottom of your hearts; do not talk about it with those of other sects or others [not of our tradition]. Furthermore, you must not praise it openly [in the presence of such people] on byways and main roads and in the villages where you live. Next, do not slight the provincial military governors and local land stewards, claiming that you have attained faith; meet your public obligations in full without fail. Further, do not belittle the various kami and buddhas and bodhisattvas, for they are all encompassed within the six characters na-mu-a-mi-da-butsu [the nembutsu]. Besides this, in particular, take the laws of the state as your outer aspect, store other-power faith deep in your hearts, and take [the principles of] humanity and justice as essential. Bear in mind that these are the rules of conduct that have been established within our tradition.

Respectfully.

Written on the seventeenth day of the second month of Bunmei 6 (1474). [i.e. the 6th year of the Bunmei era]

Source: https://www.georgegatenby.id.au/pdf/gobunsho.pdf

There are three aspects of this letter that I find interesting:

First, is Rennyo’s advice about daily life. Because Rennyo is writing to lay poeple, not monastic renunciants, the advice is simple: be socially responsible, and don’t use your religious faith as an excuse to misbehave. “Render unto Caeser, that which is Caesar’s” in other words. This seems kind of obvious, but the Pure Land movement originally had a number offshoots and communities, and some tended to flout convention on the belief that they were saved by Amida Buddha anyway. In other words: antinomianism.

Second, Rennyo stresses the importance about not bragging about one’s faith. Jodo Shinshu was (comparatively speaking) novel and new within Japanese Buddhism, and somewhat unorthodox due to its entirely lay community. Rennyo’s warning is to avoid taking pride in this, since there was nothing worth bragging about. It was all due to Amida Buddha’s compassion, and not any accomplishment by the disciple.

Finally, Rennyo makes an interesting point about the Amida Buddha in relation to other buddhas, bodhisattvas, and the kami of Shinto. Rather than treating Amida as yet another buddha within the larger Mahayana Buddhist pantheon, Rennyo describes Amida as the source of all such divinities. His ancestor, Shinran, had also hinted at a similar view toward Amida Buddha, and indeed when we look at another buddha named Vairocana, we see that this concept is not new. They are just different names for the same concept.

But it’s interesting to hear that Rennyo, generations later, is reiterating this point: in the Jodo Shinshu interpretation of Amida Buddha, Amida isn’t just another deity, it embodies the Dharma, and all contained within it.

Namu Amida Butsu

A Medieval Buddhist Revolution? The Ikko-Ikki part two

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.

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.

No Working Is True Working: the Tannisho

Writing my recent post about Ikkyu and Rennyo brought back a lot of old memories for me.1 I was also overjoyed when I was recently contacted by another member of my old Jodo Shinshu community. So, I started leafing through the old material I saved, much of it out of print now, and remembered this old quote from the Tannisho (歎異抄), a collection of sayings attributed to the founder, Shinran (1173 – 1263):

10) 念仏ねんぶつには無義むぎをもって義ぎとす。不ふ可か称しょう不ふ可か説せつ不ふ可か思し議ぎのゆゑえにと仰おおせ候そうらひいき。

“In the nembutsu no selfworking is true-working; it is beyond description, explanation, and conception.”

translation by Dr Taitetsu Unno

This cryptic saying is probably the most emblematic of Shinran’s thinking, and what distinguishes Jodo Shinshu from the rest of the vast Pure Land Buddhist tradition.

Since the days of the early Chinese Buddhist Pure Land teachers such as Dao-chuo (道綽, 562–645) and Shan-dao (善導, 613–681), there has been this notion that Buddhism has two general paths:

  • The path of the Sages (i.e. the classic, monastic path), and
  • The path of the Pure Land

This morphed over time into the concepts of Self-Power and Other-Power. In other words, when following the Buddhist path does one rely on one’s own efforts, or fall back and rely on the grace of the Buddhist deities, primarily Amida Buddha? Every Pure Land Buddhist tradition and teacher that has arisen across history has wrestled with these competing approaches, how to find a balance, or where they might overlap. Charles B Jones’s book really explores this in far greater detail and well worth the read.

In any case, on the Self-Power vs. Other-Power spectrum, Jodo Shinshu Buddhism, as taught by Shinran and later Rennyo, really tipped the scales toward Other Power only. It’s not just 95% Other Power, 5% Self-Power; it’s entirely 100% Other Power. The idea arose through a combination of both Dharma Decline: that people were so far removed from the time of the historical Buddha Shakyamuni that any efforts towards one’s own emancipation were no longer possible, and the aforementioned tension between the Pure Land Path vs. Path of the Sages.

Thus, Shinran is saying that regardless of what one does or doesn’t do, the salvation provided by Amida Buddha is entirely due to Amida Buddha. One cannot add or detract from this grace. Once one experiences such grace, they spontaneously recite the nembutsu, rather than as a Buddhist practice.

Astute readers may find that this sounds an awful lot like Calvanism, and Charles B Jones points this out too. He also points out that the while this can provide great comfort to those who sincerely follow yet doubt their abilities, the challenge of Calvinist-type thinking is that it can leave the believer in doubt about whether they ever will be selected. It almost feels like a religious lottery. A person can be a genuine follower all their life, and yet grace might not come. Not every Jodo Shinshu follower experiences shinjin. And if they did, how would they know?

Back then, I wrestled with this issue quite a bit as a Jodo Shinshu follower. Shinshu teachings have a certain internal logic and beauty to them, but I always had this this nagging feeling that there was some “philosophical gymnastics” involved. And, to be frank, I am no longer convinced that this is what the Buddha taught. Even if you read the Larger Sutra of Immeasurable Life, the most important Pure Land Sutra and the source of the Juseige, it’s pretty clear that Shakyamuni intended for people to bend their efforts toward rebirth in the Pure Land, rather than let go and let Amida Buddha handle everything. The sutra is a bit long, and takes about 1-2 hours to finish reading, but if you’re learning about the Pure Land tradition, it’s worth the read.

I already critiqued Dharma Decline in another post so I won’t belabor that here. Suffice to say, it’s too formulaic to be a realistic assessment of human history.

But what about Other Power versus Self Power? In my humble opinion it’s a false dichotomy. You’re not actually forced in Buddhism to choose one or the other. It is possible, and very common, to find a balance of both in one’s practice. If a Buddhist deity inspires you to keep going, great! And since there many deities in Buddhism, it is possible to find someone who inspires you even if it is the historical Buddha himself. It doesn’t have to be a “cosmic” deity and will still be just as Buddhist.

I don’t want to trash on Shinran though, because a spiritual crisis like the one he had can be a very difficult to resolve even after years. Shinran was an accomplished and fascinating figure, and the Tannisho as a document is a valuable insight into his thinking process.

It’s just that I had my own “mini-crisis” in my younger years as a Buddhist and I came to a different conclusion even as a nembutsu devotee. These days I am pretty happy with my practice, small as it is, plus everything I’ve learned along the way.

Maybe I am totally wrong, but the way I figure it:

  • Slow and steady wins the race.
  • With the breadth of teachings and practices Buddhism has to offer there’s something for everyone and there’s nowhere to go but up.
  • Never be complacent. There’s always more to learn, more to try, and more to experience.

Good luck and happy practicing!

1 This is an old selfie I took of myself in 2015, wearing the robes of a minister’s assistant with the Buddhist Churches of America:

I was still in training (certified later in 2016), but I was very proud to wear it nonetheless. My chanting voice was terrible (still is), but I really tried to take my role seriously. I have a lot of happy memories from that time and am always grateful.

P.S. it’s hard to find a good translation of the Tannisho these days, but you find Dr Taitetsu Unno’s translation here on Web Archive.

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.

Liturgy on White Ashes

A while back, I mentioned a well-known liturgy called the Letter on White Ashes (白骨の章, hakkotsu no shō). It is letter that is often read aloud in the Jodo Shinshu tradition, and was originally composed by the 8th head (monshu, 門主) of the order, Rennyo (蓮如, 1415–1499) to a follower.

Some quick backstory about Rennyo first though.

A portrait of Rennyo, courtesy of ブレイズマン, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Rennyo is an interesting, though often controversial figure. Jodo Shinshu is somewhat unusual in Buddhism because it was, from the outset, a strictly lay order and even today the priests do not take any clerical vows. Rennyo reputedly had 28 children by 4 different wives (not at the same time). The ravages of war, famine, and medieval healthcare for pregnant women,1 meant that he remarried 3 times.

Rennyo also presided over a very fractured and divided Jodo Shinshu community. Because the community was lay-oriented and had no political support, it divided into regional sects in rural areas, each developing their own interpretation, and with no oversight.

Further, certain established sects constantly viewed the widespread Jodo Shinshu Buddhism as a threat and, in the case of the Tendai complex on Mount Hiei, would send monastic armies to persecute them.

As if all this wasn’t enough, by Rennyo’s time, the central authority in Kyoto had broken down leaving the country in civil war (the Warring States period).

Rennyo was politically vulnerable against other rival, regional Jodo Shinshu groups and was actively being chased by the armies of Mount Hiei. He fled with his family to a more remote region in Echizen province. Here, Rennyo was finally able to catch his breath and gradually reunite many of the disparate Jodo Shinshu communities under a single organization, with reformed and updated liturgy, ordination and so on. Rennyo’s efforts were greatly successful and today he is remembered as the “Restorer” of Jodo Shinshu.2

Part of Rennyo’s success was his letter-writing. These are collected today in a text called the Gobunsho (御文章) or more colloquially the O-fumi (御文).

The letter below is perhaps the most famous of the collection (emphasis added). There are many translations available, but I tend to like Rev. Hisao Inagaki’s the most.

When I deeply contemplate the transient nature of human life, I realize that, from beginning to end, life is impermanent like an illusion. We have not yet heard of anyone who lived ten thousand years. How fleeting is a lifetime!

Who in this world today can maintain a human form for even a hundred years? There is no knowing whether I will die first or others, whether death will occur today or tomorrow. We depart one after another more quickly than the dewdrops on the roots or the tips of the blades of grasses. So it is said. Hence, we may have radiant faces in the morning, but by evening we may turn into white ashes.

Once the winds of impermanence have blown, our eyes are instantly closed and our breath stops forever. Then, our radiant face changes its color, and the attractive countenance like peach and plum blossoms is lost. Family and relatives will gather and grieve, but all to no avail?

Since there is nothing else that can be done, they carry the deceased out to the fields, and then what is left after the body has been cremated and has turned into the midnight smoke is just white ashes. Words fail to describe the sadness of it all.

Thus the ephemeral nature of human existence is such that death comes to young and old alike without discrimination. So we should all quickly take to heart the matter of the greatest importance of the afterlife, entrust ourselves deeply to Amida Buddha, and recite the nembutsu.

Humbly and respectfully.

Rennyo

Translated by Reverend Hisao Inagaki

Rennyo does a terrific job distilling important Buddhist truths into a single letter, written in a straightforward, accessible manner, with a simple message at the end: do not waste time, settle your affairs in the afterlife and entrust yourself to Amida Buddhia. It is no surprise this is still read aloud even today in Jodo Shinshu funerals, including my mother-in-law’s. Personally I always liked this letter more than something long and droning like the Shōshinge hymn.

Namu Amida Butsu

P.S. This is the first post I started after my medical emergency. Needless to say, I’ve been thinking about this stuff a lot.

1 throughout most of world history, pregnancy and childbirth was extremely dangerous for women everywhere. Each childbirth had an average 10% fatality rate for the mother. And since pre-modern populations had high birth rates and high death rates, a family typically would have 8-10 kids on average. Each one of these was another 10% chance for a woman to die during childbirth. Small wonder that wives often died, and men had to remarry. I think about this sometimes because my wife had a very difficult labor with our firstborn, and I imagine that had we lived in pre-modern times, she would have almost certainly died. Chilling.

2 something I didn’t cover here, and Rennyo’s biggest controversy was his association with the peasant rebellions known as ikko-ikki. Warfare and neglect caused multiple peasant uprisings and even disaffected samurai joined the cause. Some of these rebellions were quite serious and actively threatened the established order. Rennyo’s relationship is somewhat vague and confusing. It doesn’t appear that he advocated rebellion, but many of the rebels were devout followers of Jodo Shinshu Buddhism and looked to Rennyo for support.

Life, Death, Life

Note: I started writing this post way back in December, but have been mulling over it for quite a while. The fact that I post this on the day before Nirvana Day (the death of the Buddha) is serendipity. 😏

The day of my mother-in-law’s 100th day memorial was a very somber day for us all in Japan. My wife had gone back to Japan shortly after her mother passed away, but the kids and I had not, so this was our first real chance to say goodbye. Per Japanese funerary customs, we dressed in somber blacks and dress suits (first time in many years for me), and we carried her ashes from her home to the nearby Buddhist temple where the memorial occurred.

It was a surreal morning: the weather was sunny and pleasant. Overhead, the sky was blue, and winter birds were singing in the trees, while we were quiet and carrying the ashes of our beloved relative, lost in thought. The contrast between life and death was impossible to ignore.

It made me realize that both life and death are all around us. They exist like two sides of the same coin.

Even in the original series, Star Trek, Mr Spock acknowledges this:

Season 2, episode 14, “Wolf in the Fold“

Roger Zelazny in his novella, Creatures of Light and Darkness (1969), also explores the idea that the absolute, most fundamental powers in the Universe are life and death. The usurpers, Anubis (of the House of the Dead) and Osiris (of the House of Life) vie with one another, but also keep the Universe in balance:

Anubis: “Osiris and I are bookkeepers: We credit and we debit. We raise waves, or cause waves to sink back again into the ocean. Can life be counted upon to limit itself? No. It is the mindless striving of two to become infinity. Can death be counted upon to limit itself? Never. It is the equally mindless effort of zero to encompass infinity.…”

Creatures of Light and Darkness, by Roger Zelazny

Buddhism looks at this truth, and extends it one step further by pointing that life does not end with death, and the two blend together so much, and are so closely tied to one another that there really isn’t “death” as separate from “life”. Just one big fluid mess. Consider this verse from the Heart Sutra:

“Listen Sariputra, all phenomena bear the mark of Emptiness; their true nature is the nature of no Birth no Death, no Being no Non-being, no Defilement no Purity, no Increasing no Decreasing….”

Translation by Ven. Thich Nhat Hanh

If we see that life and death are two sides of the same coin, and that one cannot exist without the other, where do we draw the line? That’s the point of this verse, I think. That’s emptiness (shunyatā in Sanskrit) in Buddhism: all things exist in a provisional, contingent way that depends on other things. No separate thing called “life”, nor a separate thing called “death”. It just goes on and on…

In the Analects of Confucius, there is a famous quote that expresses this same sentiment:

子在川上曰。
逝者如斯夫
不舍晝夜。
[9:17] The Master, standing by a river, said, “It goes on like this, never ceasing day or night!”

Analects of Confucius, 9:17, translation by A. Charles Muller

In the same way, life and death dance around one another ad nauseum. In the Buddhist viewpoint, people are reborn again and again without end. Not one life or two, but countless, countless lives stretching back to some distant, unknowable eon, just as we are doomed to repeat this dance of birth, struggles of growing up, struggles of old age, illness and death over and over again into the future. A cosmic “rat race” without end.

In the immediate term, it’s a reminder that we cannot avoid death. We cannot live without it either. All existence is marked by death, and all existence must face it sooner or later.

During my mother-in-law’s memorial service, per tradition of the Jodo Shinshu sect, the famous Letter on White Ashes composed by Rennyo to a follower in the 15th century, was read aloud:

Who in this world today can maintain a human form for even a hundred years? There is no knowing whether I will die first or others, whether death will occur today or tomorrow. We depart one after another more quickly than the dewdrops on the roots or the tips of the blades of grasses. So it is said. Hence, we may have radiant faces in the morning, but by evening we may turn into white ashes.

Translated by Rev. Hisao Inagaki

Thus, only now matters. Enjoy the air you breathe, the life you live (even when work is miserable) and the health you have. Do not squander it.

Namu Amida Butsu

The Five Tone Nembutsu

Lately, I’ve been reading about an important Japanese-Buddhist figure in the Tendai sect named Ennin (円仁 794-864) also called Jikaku Daishi (慈覚大師) posthumously. More on his life in an upcoming posts, but among his many accomplishments was to bring back from Tang-Dynasty China a practice called the five-tone nembutsu, or goé nembutsu (五会念仏).1

I had vaguely heard of this practice before but didn’t know what it was until recently (my recent studies in Japanese language have definitely helped). It turns out that the five tone nembutsu had been under my nose for many years but I had never know what it was!

Years ago, I was a devoted member of Jodo Shinshu and had been a member of my local Buddhist Churches of America temple. My reasons for moving on are here and here, but at the time I was training to be a lay minister and had to practice chanting various liturgies in the Jodo Shinshu tradition. Some can be very straightforward to chant, others are very melodic, such as the wasan hymns:

An example of the wasan (和讃) hymns used in the Jodo Shinshu Buddhist sect. This is from a service book we have at home, but from the Otani-branch, not the more well-known Honganji-branch. Note the line to the right of each Chinese character denoting the tone to use.

But special yearly services, such as Hō-on-kō (報恩講), have more elaborate liturgy, such as this one:

Starting around 3:01, you can see/hear the five tone nembutsu recited (南无阿弥陀佛) in a very long, flowery style. As part of my training, I used to recite this and other hymns with our local minister, who was very good at singing. I am tone-deaf and pretty much butchered it every time. He was a very patient minister and I always enjoyed my time with him.2 But there it was: the five tone nembutsu and I never knew about its history or what it took to get someone like me to chant it centuries later in the Pacific Northwest.

Both the founder of Jodo Shinshu, Shinran, and his descendant Rennyo, the ”restorer” of Jodo Shinshu3 had both been trained as monks in the Tendai sect it makes sense that they inherited this liturgical practice, and since many Japanese-American immigrants had been Jodo Shinshu followers, they brought this practice to the West Coast of the US.

But the history of this melodic, Buddhist liturgy runs deep, going all the way back to the Tang Dynasty in China, which of course inherited the general practice of the nembutsu from India via the Silk Road. A lot can be said in a few phrases.

Namu Amida Butsu

P.S. the “five tones” referred to here are the five tones of music used in the traditional Chinese scale.

1 More on the nembutsu as a Buddhist practice here and here.

2 I really do miss our reverend (who has since retired). He was a great guy.

3 Rennyo, like Ennin, gets overshadowed by the original founder but he made a lot of important innovations that Buddhists in Japan, and overseas benefit from today.

Religion and Politics Don’t Mix: A Cautionary Tale

A scene from the Genpei War, courtesy of Wikipedia

When religion and politics travel in the same cart, the riders believe nothing can stand in their way. Their movements become headlong – faster and faster and faster. They put aside all thoughts of obstacles and forget the precipice does not show itself to the man in a blind rush until it’s too late.

Frank Herbert, Dune

While reading my new book on the Ojoyoshu and its author Genshin, a highly influential Japanese Buddhist monk in the 12th century, I came across the story of two men who were very powerful at the time, and colluded to build the temple of Enryakuji, home of the Tendai sect, to become the most powerful religious institution at the time. This had some very negative unintended side-effects as we shall see, but first let’s see who these two men were.

Enryakuji temple as seen today, rebuilt in the 17th century. 663highland / CC BY-SA, courtesy of Wikipedia.

The first was an ambitious monk named Ryōgen (良源, 912 – 985) who quickly embroiled himself in a generations-long simmering dispute between two rival factions of the Tendai sect: one based on the lineage of the Ennin: the sanmon-ha (山門派), and the other based on the lineage of Enchin: the jimon-ha (寺門派). Both Ennin and Enchin had been direct disciples of founder Saichō (最澄, 767 – 822). Interestingly, neither faction had major doctrinal differences between them, the dispute was entirely over who should run Enryakuji Temple. Ryōgen, who was from the Ennin / sanmon-ha lineage, overtly sought to push out and exclude rivals from the Enchin line from positions of power, until he eventually attained supremacy as the 18th head abbot (zasu, 座主) of Enryakuji Temple in 966.

The other man in this story was a nobleman named Fujiwara no Morosuke, who belonged to one of several competing branches of the Fujiwara clan for control of the Imperial throne. This most common strategy for controlling the throne at the time was through intermarriage with the Imperial family, and controlling the strings as regents for child emperors. In this case, Morosuke wanted to ensure that his pregnant daughter, Anshi (安子, 927-964), the consort of Emperor Murakami, would give birth to a son. He enlisted Ryōgen who had known his father in social circles, and Ryōgen agreed to undertake a lengthy 300-day Buddhist esoteric ritual to ensure safe birth of a son. Sure enough, Anshi gave birth to a son (later Emperor Reizei), and Ryōgen was greatly rewarded by Morosuke with prestigious positions and patronage against rivals at Enryakuji.

This relationship between the two profited both. From Ryōgen, Morosuke got spiritual protection, and influence over the powerful Enryakuji temple, while Ryõgen could further his plans to consolidate power at the temple with blessings from the powerful Fujiwara clan.

Ryōgen paid back Morosuke by appointing one of Morosuke’s junior family relations, Jinzen, to the prominent position of “bishop” within Enryakuji and then archbishop (sōjō 僧正) two years later. Jinzen was far too young to be an archbishop, and lacked past qualifications, but his connection to the Fujiwaran clan and Ryōgen were enough to make the promotion happen. Ryōgen appointed others similarly to his “inner circle” based more on loyalty to the Ennin faction than on qualifications, while pushing out more qualified rivals who belonged to the Enchin faction. This struggle came to a head later in 981 when a member of the rival Enchin line was appointed to an important position by the government. Protests, threats and rumors by monks spread quickly, and monks of the Enchin lineage felt increasingly unsafe and moved further down the mountain. By 991, armed monks (sōhei 僧兵)1 from the Ennin line (Ryōgen’s lineage) openly attacked the Enchin monks’ residences and they fled to a rival Tendai Buddhist temple named Miidera:

The Golden Hall of Miidera temple, rebuilt in the 16th century. 663highland / CC BY-SA courtesy of Wikipedia.

The political/factional rivalry didn’t end there though. Both temple complexes, along with several other major temples in and around the capitol, fielded armies of warrior-monks, and allied themselves with power noble families. Between Enryakuji and Miidera, the violence escalated until Miidera was burned down by warrior monks from Enryakuji 4 times in the 11th century, while Miidera warrior-monks attacked and destroyed places associated with the Ennin lineage.

By the time of the Genpei War in the last 12th century (more on that here), the temples were caught up in the larger struggle between the Taira and Minamoto clans with the Miidera Temple being burned down (yet again) and its monks fleeing with the retreating Minamoto clan.

All of this started with a lineage dispute between two disciples of the founder, Saichō, but gradually escalated as one side sabotaged the other politically and then, starting with Ryōgen, tapped into patronage from power noble families in order to drive out the other faction. This back and forth happened for decades and centuries, until both temples were repeatedly destroyed by warfare. The temporary political gains that Ryōgen received through Morosuke did little to actually solve the issue long-term and worsened things through factionalism. Monks, increasingly drawn into political battles, forgot their monastic training and engaged armed conflicts with other monks (or opposing samurai warriors in some cases) in total contradiction of the Buddha’s firm teachings against taking life, especially in the capacity as a monk.

As the book shows, not all monks at Enryakuji bought into this conflict. Genshin, for example, setup a retreat at the more isolated Yokawa region of Mt. Hiei for monks to focus on the Pure Land teachings and practices. In a sense, he just clocked out. Some monks just openly left to start new Buddhist sects (Honen, Shinran, Dogen, etc) or join them. Others just turned a blind eye to what was happening.

Nevertheless, the monastic system in Japan by the 11th and 12th centuries hadn’t just been plagued by “monks gone wild”; the entire system had totally gone off the rails.

Not surprisingly, although these sects survived the conflict and continued on into the later Kamakura and Muromachi Periods, their reputations were permanently tarnished, and even today enjoy far less prestige that newer, fresher sects that had less political muscle,2 and more mass-appeal. As researchers argue, the political sects at the time hitched their wagons with powerful noble families and profited from this, but when those families declined political, so did the temples.

A cautionary tale for future generations….

P.S. the book also alludes to an “acrimonious debate” in China between two factions of the parent Tiantai sect: the shanjia (山家, “mountain family”) and the shanwai (山外, “outside the mountain”). Unlike Japan, the struggle in China never led to open warfare, but the Tiantai sect suffered paralysis until the debate was resolved.

1 Warrior-monk armies were not exclusive to the Tendai sect, by the way. Other major sects around the capitol got tangled up in a weird kind of religious-political “arms race” with each other. Kōfukuji, the head of the still-powerful Hossō sect, fielded a powerful army and frequently threw their weight around, intimidating followers of the new Pure Land sect, while getting into armed clashes with Enryaku-ji, their rival Miidera, and later with newer Zen temples. The army from Enryakuji was also known for robbing the grave of Pure Land Buddhism founder, Hōnen (ironically a former Tendai monk) later. Centuries later, these warrior-monks were still harassing rival Buddhist sects (for example Rennyo’s community of the Jodo Shinshu sect, and Dōgen’s community of the Sōtō Zen sect) until they were finally wiped out (literally) by the infamous warlord Oda Nobunaga. For more on sohei warrior-monks and how they might look in Dungeons and Dragons role-playing, check out my other blog post.

2 The one prominent exception to this would the Jodo Shinshu sect, which did openly challenge Oda Nobunaga with a peasant army (ikko-ikki) of its own whose relationship to Rennyo was … complicated. Outside of war, Jodo Shinshu has also had a somewhat sketchy history of attacking critics such as the Zen monk Tetsugen through mob-violence.