Chion-in |
It was here on the grounds of what is now Chion-in that Honen Shonin (1132-1212), who so popularized the Pure Land sect, originally had his dwelling. And it was here that he died at seventy-nine, in what is now the Seishi-do Hall.
When it became apparent that he was not long for this life his followers gathered and desired him to hold a cord attached to the hands of a statue of Amida, a custom said to assist entry into Paradise, and one which even cloistered emperors insisted upon.
Honen, however, refused, saying that he need no such help. He had already noticed Amida and his attendants on their way, and in any event no cord was needed since he plainly saw awaiting him the grand purple cloud upon which he would ride to the Western Paradise.
This occurred but the earthly remains did not long remain untroubled. The always difficult monks on Mount Hiei jealous at the success of the Jodo sect, took advantage of a series of natural disasters in 1227 to attribute them to the sainted Honen and his teachings. This gave them a reason to burn down his temple. They even wanted to break open his grave located on the hill above the Hondo and throw his bones, like those of a common criminal, into the Kamo River. This plan was thwarted by loyal disciples who removed the master's remains to the suburbs where they cremated them and then, apparently, sent the ashes back to the site of Chion-in.
The temple was rebuilt in 1234 under the sponsorship of the imperial family and by the military, and was thus kept safe from further destruction. In addition, official favors having fallen thick, a whole series of emperors granted Honen ceremonial titles—the last was in 1961 when, upon the occasion of the 750th anniversary of the master's death, the Showa emperor, Hirohito, added yet another.
One of the reasons for the continued imperial interest is that Honen can he seen as an example of filial devotion, something of which paternal rulers have need. But, perhaps even more than to the imperial line this possibility appealed to the shoguns, first the Minamotos from Kamakura, and later the Ashikagas, and then still later the Tokugawas, all of whom desired devoted followers.
Much was made of an anecdote from the early life of Saint Honen. It was said that at a very young age the sage saw his father mortally wounded by bandits. The distraught child at once set out for revenge but the expiring parent in his last breath instructed him rather to stay his hand, to enter a monastery and pray for the afterlife of all. The young saint's filial devotion was apparent.
Such legends are grateful to rulers. As the obedient child to the wise father, so the loyal subject to the benevolent lord. In 1523 Chion-in officially became the head temple of the jodo (Pure Land) sect (now one of the major Buddhist denominations in Japan), and it remains their headquarters—its subordinate temples, over seven thousand of them, are found everywhere in the archipelago.
The place was richly patronized by the powerful Tokugawa family. Ieyasu himself gave land and built the main hall in memory of his modier. His son built the colossal gate and the scripture hall. After the hall itself was once more destroyed by fire in 1633, it was another member of the family, the third shogun, Iemitsu, who rebuilt it—and it is this building which stands today.
It is somewhat cramped on that imposing hilltop which Chion-in occupies. The two main halls lie at right angles to each other—the Amida-do faces east, the Gaei-do faces south—which disrupts the architectural narrative of the place, particularly after the impressive fanfare of the climb and that gate—the Sanmon.
Chion-in has not only the largest temple gate in Japan—the largest surviving structure of its kind and representative of the massive Zen-style temple gateways erected during the early part of the Edo period—it also has one of the biggest bells in the land. Cast in 1633 it is eight feet tall and nine in diameter. It tolls 108 times at New Year for the absolution of the 108 defilements—an event annually broadcast throughout the nation on both radio and television.
Rudyard Kipling was among those many foreigners who admired the giant bell. "A knuckle rapped lightly on the lip of the bell made the great monster breathe heavily," he wrote, "and the blow of a stick started a hundred shrill-voiced echoes round the darkness of its dome."
Chion-in, as befits a major place of pilgrimage, is now a much developed attraction. Not only is admission charged (a custom common enough in most Kyoto temples) but there is a larger than ordinary souvenir shop and each of the buildings is—like a Disneyland—treated as a special attraction.
There is, in the Mie-do, the very image of Amida Buddha that Honen himself venerated. On the western platform are statues of not only Tokugawa Ieyasu but also his mother and his son. And there are, of course, the Seven Wonders of Chion-in.
These do not include the bell, which is truly wonderful, but rather attractions such as the Uryu-seki, a large rock which is said to have, for some reason, given birth to a cucumber; a sliding panel in the O-hojo, mainly empty, which is said to have once been full of sparrows which were painted in such a lively fashion that most of them flew out of the picture; and the famous Uguisubari no Roka.
These are the floorboards along the corridor leading from the Mie-do to the O-hojo. Under the weight of the walker, these sing like nightingales and, though squeaky floors are common to all temples, they excite much wonder. And some suspicion. The philosopher Umehara Takeshi was taken there as a child and remembers that to him the sound created an ominous feeling.
This was because he realized that the noise was "not for the sake of any artistic refinement, but to prevent the intrusion of scoundrels." He would have not found this odd in Nijo Castle (where the floors squeak as well) because it was a center of political intrigue, "but why would the priests of Chion-in, who had supposedly renounced all worldly concerns, need such a stratagem."
Probably because temples, like castles and churches, are also often centers of political intrigue. This certainly was true of Chion-in, which became a stronghold of the Jodo sect against all others, particularly those which departed from the teachings of Saint Honen.
This legacy was originally in the hands of the priest Shinran (1173-1262), a man who at the age of nine had been instructed by Kannon herself to go to Chion-in and meet Honen. This he did and became a disciple. Before long, however, he found the older priest too conservative. Particularly, he distrusted the emphasis upon priesdy celibacy and the endless repetition of the nembutsu.
Born just ten years after the beginning of Notre-Dame Cathedral and the establishment of Oxford University, he was a part of a new order which now seems to have occurred everywhere. Playing Saint Paul to Honen's Jesus, he simplified even further the simplicities of Jodo. He said that salvation was possible for those who had never even read any holy scriptures, and the mercy of Amida was particularly available to the unlettered and the immoral. Since "even the good will be born again in paradise," he wrote: "How much more the wicked!"
Here Shinran unknowingly" echoes Jesus who said, it will be remembered, that those sinners who repent and pray are more righteous in the eyes of God and more deserving of God's forgiveness than the virtuous Pharisees. Perhaps more Pauline was Shinrans preaching "the glad tidings of salvation," which assure us that through the mediation of Jesus Christ (Amida) the Kingdom of God (the Western Paradise) will become a reality.
Shinran also thought that one need mouth the slogan but once, providing one did it sincerely. "And from that time on, there is no necessity for any other good deed... there is no need to fear committing an evil action, for no evil can stand in the way of the original vow of Amida."
He wrote this, not in Chinese, as had been the ecclesiastical habit, but in common Japanese—kana—and defended this practice by saying that country people did not know the meaning of kanji and were so slow-witted that he had written with the one idea of making his meaning clear to stupid people.
Also, it was perfectly all right for priests to get married—which he did. The bride was said to have been a high-born woman, and though styled a nun, she was still his wife—she bore him six children, all of whom became themselves priests or nuns. So, not only was fertility encouraged but celibacy was frowned upon and the incumbency of Shinran's temples is often still hereditary.
All of this, and much more, has became the basis for the Jodo sect's stepchild, the Jodo Shinshu (True Sect of Jodo), Shinran himself, however, met with disfavor for his revolutionary departures and consequently went elsewhere to find a degree of religious freedom, never returning to Chion-in.
His sect also met competition from the other new religions of the period. Among these was the Hokke or Lotus sect, founded by the priest Nichiren (1222-82). This person attacked not only Jodo Shinshu but all other religions as well. He called the revered Kobo Daishi "the greatest liar in Japan," said that Shingon priests were traitors, that Zen was a doctrine of the devil, and that the nembutsu of Jodo and Jodo Shinshu was a hellish practice. When he heard that the enemy Mongol envoys had been executed, he wrote that: "It is a great pity that they should have cut off the heads of innocent Mongols and left unharmed the priests of Jodo, Shingon, and Zen... enemies of Japan."
His reasons for such intemperance was that Nichiren believed that mappo was the result of the propagation of false Buddhist doctrines. These included any but his own. The Tendai sect had once been based upon his sole authority, the Lotus Sutra, but it had deviated. Desiring to reinstate this original belief, he proclaimed that the Lotus Sutra was the sole authority and that his slogan was consequently Namu Myoho Renge Kyo, or "All Praise to the Scripture of the Lotus." Having taken the religious name of Lotus of the Sun (Nichiren), thus establishing preeminence, he set about publicizing the new sect.
One of the ways was to set his converts chanting and drumming about the capital, thereby much disturbing the ceremonies in temples belonging to other sects. Another was to opt the entire country. Nichiren was the first to do so and he consequently became the first nationalist. In his tract Rissho Ankoku Ron (A Treatise on the Establishment of Righteousness and the Safety of the Country) he wrote, "I will be the pillar of Japan. I will be the eyes of Japan, I will be the great vessel of Japan."
This was a new thing. Never before that a priest so openly sought to counter secular power. And never had a man of the church so equated spiritual welfare with the fortunes of the state. His consequent fall from favor with the Hojo regents meant exile and resulted in there being even now very few Nichiren temples in Kyoto. Nonetheless his militant Buddhism has always proved popular as an off-shoot, as that controversial modern sect, Soka Gakkai, indicates.
Such thoughts seem appropriate at enormous, dusty Chion-in. Though the architecture is quite different from the post-mod designer temples of the new religions, one senses here that popularity is a sign of favor and that when religions become institutionalized, they also become political.