Buddhism and Modernity: Sources from Nineteenth-Century Japan 9780824888121

Citation preview

Buddhism and Modernity

B uddhism and M odernity Sources from Nineteenth-Century Japan

E dited

by

Orion Klautau and

Hans Martin Krämer

University of Hawai‘i Press Honolulu

© 2021 University of Hawai‘i Press All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America 26  25  24  23  22  21   

6  5  4  3  2  1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Klautau, Orion, editor. | Krämer, Hans Martin, editor. Title: Buddhism and modernity : sources from nineteenth-century Japan / Orion Klautau, Hans Martin Krämer. Description: Honolulu : University of Hawai‘i Press, 2021. | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020030496 | ISBN 9780824884581 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780824888138 (epub) | ISBN 9780824888145 (kindle edition) | ISBN 9780824888121 (adobe pdf) Subjects: LCSH: Buddhism—Japan—History—19th century—Sources— Translations into English. Classification: LCC BQ674 .B83 2021 | DDC 294.30952/09034—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020030496

University of Hawai‘i Press books are printed on acid-free paper and meet the guidelines for permanence and durability of the Council on Library Resources.

Cover art: Félix Régamey, Émile Guimet devant un bonze avec comme interprète Kondo à Niko, ca. 1876–1877. Paris, Musée national des arts asiatiques– Guimet (courtesy of bpk / RMN-Grand Palais / Mathieu Rabeau). In 1876, the French art collector Émile Guimet (1836–1918) and the painter Félix Régamey (1844–1907) traveled through Japan. In this painting, Régamey depicts Guimet exchanging information on religion with a Buddhist priest, most likely Hikosaka Jinkō (1833–1897), deacon of the Tendai temple Manganji, in a hotel room in Nikkō. In the center, Kondō Tokutarō (1856–1920) acts as interpreter.

Contents

Buddhism and Modernity in Japan: An Introduction    Orion Klautau and Hans Martin Krämer

1

Part I  Sectarian Reform 1 Questions and Answers from Beneath a Snowy Window (1876) by Fukuda Gyōkai    Micah Auerback

39

2  On Religious Revolution (1889) by Nakanishi Ushirō    Hoshino Seiji

51

3 “Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists: Our Manifesto” (1900) by Anonymous    Jolyon Baraka Thomas

64

4 “Discussing the Kanrenkai” (1897) by Kyōkai Jigensha (attrib. Kiyozawa Manshi)    Jeff Schroeder

73

Part II  The Nation 1 On Protecting the Nation through Buddhism (1856) by Gesshō    Orion Klautau

87

2  “Upholding Faith in the Buddhadharma and Repaying the Nation” (1863) by Ogawa Taidō    Jacqueline I. Stone

97

3 “Lectures on the Three Articles of Instruction” (1873) by Higuchi Ryūon    Hans Martin Krämer

109

vi

Contents

4  Laughing at Christianity (1869) by Kiyū Dōjin    James Baskind

120

5 On the National Doctrine of Greater Japan (1882) by Shaku Unshō    Kameyama Mitsuhiro and Nathaniel Gallant

131

Part III  Science and Philosophy 1 A Buddhist Book of Genesis (1879) by Sada Kaiseki    Fabio Rambelli

143

2 “The Gist of Indian Philosophy” (1887) by Hara Tanzan    Dylan Luers Toda

155

3 Prolegomena to an Argument for the Revival of Buddhism (1887) by Inoue Enryō    Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm

163

4 Discourse on Buddhist Unity (1901) by Murakami Senshō    Ryan Ward

172

Part IV  Social Reform 1  “On Civilization” (1876) by Ōuchi Seiran    Orion Klautau

183

2 “Publishing Goals of Hanseikai zasshi” (1887) and “Living the Pure Life” (1887) by Hanseikai zasshi    James Mark Shields

192

3 “On the Relationship Between Man and Woman” (1888) by Shimaji Mokurai Iwata Mami and Stephan Kigensan Licha

200

4  On Buddhist Marriage (1894) by Tanaka Chigaku G. Clinton Godart

212

5  The Problem of Faith (1904) by Chikazumi Jōkan    Garrett L. Washington

221

Contents

vii

Part V  Japan and Asia 1 “A Plan to Protect the Dharma” (1874/1903) by Ogurusu Kōchō    Erik Schicketanz

231

2  “A Record of Niuzhuang” (1895) by Yamagata Genjō    Micah Auerback

241

3  “The Japanese People’s Spirit” (1912) by Shaku Sōen    Michel Mohr

253

4  A Travelogue in Tibet (1904) by Kawaguchi Ekai    Nathaniel Gallant

266

About the Editors and Contributors

277

Index

283

Buddhism and Modernity in Japan An Introduction Orion Klautau and Hans Martin Krämer

The challenges faced by Japanese Buddhists since the middle of the nineteenth century were in many respects homegrown. The iconoclastic movement to “abolish the Buddha and smash Śākyamuni” (haibutsu kishaku 廃仏毀釈) was certainly a local phenomenon, as was the particular configuration of state and religion during the early Meiji period, when the new government still grappled with a religious policy for the young nation-state. Yet, Japanese Buddhism also shared many of the difficulties modernity brought to religions worldwide. Perhaps the most fundamental of these was the new type of secularism that went along with Enlightenment. This was not necessarily an objective process of secularization, but certainly brought with it a change in attitudes toward and expectations from religion(s), primarily from the modern natural sciences and philosophical materialism. None of the major religious traditions around the world remained unaffected by this new challenge. The type of reaction that took place in each religion—internal reform, conservative reassertion, creation of eclectic new religions, or religious universalism1—varied, as did its timing. While this new secularism may be seen as an indirect effect of the ascent of industrial capitalism, another of its consequences, the imperialist encroachment upon the rest of the world by the West, made possible a new solution to the threat felt by Christianity at home: reaching out globally through missionary efforts. It was through this—mainly Protestant—mission that Asian countries including Japan first met religious modernity head-on. Asian religions such as Japanese Buddhism had to react to the competition posed by Protestant Christianity, which came with the market advantage of representing modernity. Debates

1

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Introduction

about the reconfiguration of the relations between state and religion were heavily tinged by the question of what to do with Christianity. Japanese Buddhists—or at least some of them—were acutely aware of the changes around them. Since the 1850s, Buddhist authors had addressed the new threat posed by Christianity, and some sects even introduced “enemy studies” into the curricula of their academies. Buddhist authors were among the first in Japan to write about evolutionary theory and the particular problems this new scientific theory implied for revealed religion. Buddhist authors also introduced modern historiographic methods into the writing of religious history. Although different sects adjusted in different ways, there was a general mood of readiness for reform almost unparalleled in other major religious traditions around the world, where conservative attempts at reassertion usually played a much larger role—be it in South Asian Hinduism and Islam, Southeast Asian Islam, European Christianity, or Middle Eastern and North African Islam—where reform attempts frequently entailed a split from the mainstream religious institutions and the creation of new religious movements. In contrast to these cases, Japanese Buddhists enthusiastically embraced the changes necessitated by the modern age, which they interpreted as new possibilities. Japanese Buddhism as we know it today was formed in this era of tremendous change. The modern period, largely the decades between the middle of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century, has nonetheless received scant attention in historical research on Japanese Buddhism. In Japan, it has been dwarfed by doctrinally oriented sectarian studies and the towering attention devoted to the late ancient and medieval periods, supposedly the time when Buddhism in Japan flourished and engendered its most original innovations under the great reformers of the Heian (Saichō 最澄 and Kūkai 空海, the founders of the Tendai 天台 and Shingon 真言 sects, respectively) and Kamakura periods (Hōnen 法然, Shinran 親鸞, Dōgen 道元, and Nichiren 日蓮, the founders of the Jōdo 浄土, Jōdo Shinshū 浄土真宗, Sōtō Zen 曹洞禅, and Nichiren 日蓮 sects, respectively). Together with the niche subjects of early modern Buddhism (i.e., that of the Tokugawa period) and contemporary Buddhism (since 1945), modern Buddhism has only slowly taken ground as an accepted field within Buddhist Studies since Yoshida Kyūichi 吉田久一 (1915–2005) pioneered work on the Meiji period, emphasizing its “modernity,” in the late 1950s. In Westernlanguage scholarship on Japan, the transformative era of the nineteenth



Introduction

3

century has taken even longer to catch on, despite the importance of the Meiji period more generally in European and North American scholarship on Japan since the early postwar period.2 In the following sections, we will first trace the major transformations Buddhism underwent at an institutional level in nineteenth-century Japan, especially in connection with the broader religious policy of the Meiji state. With those factors in mind, we will move to an overview of how scholarship on the topic developed in both the West and in Japan, before identifying the major issues that Japanese Buddhists faced in the nineteenth century, which will also inform the makeup of this volume.

Buddhism in Nineteenth-Century Japan: An Overview Before we enter into the history of scholarship on modern Japanese Buddhism proper, it will be useful to gain a general insight into the main institutional changes experienced by the Japanese schools of Buddhism after the Meiji restoration of 1868. Historian of religion Hayashi Makoto 林淳 (b. 1953) has recently proposed, in response to an earlier division by Yoshida Kyūichi, a new periodization for the history of modern Buddhism in Japan. Diverging from the more Marxist-influenced classification of Yoshida, Hayashi asserts the need to understand the history of nineteenth-century Japanese Buddhism not only as the making of something new—or in other words, of the “modern” itself—but also as the gradual process of dismantling a centuries-old religious system with its own intrinsic rationale.3 That is, we can only begin to comprehend the “modernization” of Buddhism in Japan if we take into consideration the adaptational struggles that came with the sudden abolishment of Tokugawa institutions, then indissociable from the Buddhist establishment itself. From that perspective Hayashi divides the history of post-Restoration Buddhism into three periods, which will function as a guide for the brief historical overview below.

The Age of Negotiation (1868–1872) In 1868, after over a decade of complicated internal debates among the political elites and a few years of actual military conflict, the young Mutsuhito 睦仁 (1852–1912) was crowned emperor of Japan. Although fighting against Tokugawa forces would continue in northern Japan well into the following year, in areas already under Imperial

4

Introduction

authority the process of “restoring” institutions of the ancient ritsuryō 律令 state—or rather, idealized versions thereof—had begun. This meant, of course, the abolition of social and legal structures then considered by different factions within the new government as being both impediments to the “restoration” of Imperial power and “former evil practices” associated with the Tokugawa regime. The Buddhist institution was, unmistakably, one such structure, and for Meiji ideologues it had to be dealt with accordingly.4 The government thus issued the many individual directives that became known in later historiography as the shinbutsu bunri 神仏分離 edicts. These, as John Breen explains, were aimed at putting “an end to all state privileges” enjoyed by Buddhism and transferring those social functions to “Shinto.”5 While their most immediate objective seems to have been to prompt all involved parties to “clarify” (hanzen 判然, i.e., distinguish between the worship of buddhas and kami at a mostly material and ritual level), they eventually led to the sometimes violent outbursts known as the haibutsu kishaku movement.6 However, the foremost preoccupation of Buddhists was that the Meiji state, seeking friendly relations with Western countries, would now allow the free practice of Christianity in Japan.7 The social role of keeping Japan a “Jesus-free” land was perceived by many late-Edo Buddhists as the main raison d’être of their institution, a trend readers can verify in several texts included in this sourcebook. The way Buddhists reacted to these policies was, however, not as one would at first expect: although some of the government actions could be read as unmistakably anti-Buddhist, the most representative part of the clergy did not act with contempt nor did it engage in direct protest. Rather, they proceeded to acknowledge their “past mistakes” and proposed a renewed relationship with their new secular leaders. During the early months of 1869, clerics representing different Buddhist schools— a number of them included in this volume—came together and founded the League of United Buddhist Sects (Shoshū dōtoku kaimei 諸宗同徳 会盟), the first supra-sectarian Buddhist association of modern Japan. They drafted a joint document in which they declared the “inseparability of secular law and Buddhist law,” the “critique and proscription of heresies” and, most significantly, the “sweeping away of the past evils of each sect,” among other items.8 The proposal set forth by the League of United Buddhist Sects was not to set themselves against the new government, but to assert that the Buddhist institution, despite its numerous problems, could still be useful



Introduction

5

in the years to come—for instance in keeping away the “heresy” of Christianity, still forbidden in Japan at the time. Between 1869 and 1872, however, state policies aimed at disestablishing the Tokugawa regime would continue to shake the very foundations of Buddhist institutions: in early 1871, in preparation for the abolition of the domain system that would take place a few months later, the Meiji state confiscated all land that had been granted to both Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines by the shogun and daimyo.9 Although this remains an understudied topic, the confiscation had a far larger material impact on the Buddhist institution than any of the isolated haibutsu kishaku events. By mid-1871 the government had also issued a new state-centered family registration system. This led, a few months later, to the official abolition of the Buddhist-controlled religious census that had formed the basis of the danka 檀家 system, a feature characteristic of Tokugawa Japan. In 1872, a law was issued decriminalizing clerical marriage and meat eating, both of which had been considered illegal in the Tokugawa context. Later that year members of the clergy were also made to take surnames, and were now, in essence, no different from commoners (heimin 平民).10 By the end of 1872, Buddhism had been stripped of both its main sources of income and of its social status. It was also on the verge of seeing the decriminalization of Christianity, perceived as its great enemy. Indeed, in the beginning of 1873, the Meiji state decided to withdraw the centuries-long prohibition against the “heretic teaching.” Although by this point many a cleric was convinced that the government was truly setting out to “eradicate” Buddhism, others continued to seek state approval, emphasizing the myriad ways the dharma could contribute to the national goal of enriching the country and strengthening the army (fukoku kyōhei 富国強兵) and, as we will see below, to the emperor-centered national promulgation campaign.

The Age of Kyōdōshoku (1872–1884) In order to eliminate Buddhism from the public sphere and transfer its social functions to Shinto, the government had promulgated, in early 1870, the Imperial decree on the Great Promulgation Campaign (Taikyō senpu no mikotonori 大教宣布詔). This edict asserted the unity of ritual and government (saisei itchi 祭政一致), and established the office of senkyōshi 宣教使 (propagandists), who were supposed to elucidate to the nation the “Great Way of obedience to the gods.” Nativist and

6

Introduction

Confucian scholars were recruited for the position, while Buddhist priests were deliberately excluded from participating. However, for a number of reasons, which included lack of consensus regarding what these officials should in fact “propagate,” by mid-1872 the senkyōshi had been abolished; now under a different ministry, the Kyōbushō 教部省, their role was reformulated and incorporated into the newly created office of doctrinal instructor (kyōdōshoku 教導職).11 The latter now included not only Nativist and Confucian scholars, but also Buddhist priests and whoever else was considered to have experience with audiences, such as haiku poets and rakugo storytellers. The main role of the kyōdōshoku was to preach to the population based on the “Three Standards of Instruction” (sanjō kyōsoku 三条教則), which were as follows: “To embody reverence for the deities and love of the country,” “To clarify the principles of heaven and the way of humanity,” and last, “To revere and assist the emperor and obey the will of the court.”12 These aimed at inculcating into the population the ideal of a new tennō-centered Japan. With a few notable exceptions, most of the Buddhist world revealed a rather positive attitude toward these standards, even contributing to the formation of an entire exegetical genre surrounding them. This national proselytization plan focused on the Three Standards was further expanded in the following year, with the opening of the Great Teaching Institute (Daikyōin 大教院), set up on the grounds of Zōjōji 増上寺 temple in Tokyo. One should note that 1872 was also the year of the promulgation of Japan’s first Code of Education (gakusei 学制). At this early stage, there was not yet a clear differentiation between kyōka 教化, which would be a duty of the Kyōbushō, and kyōiku 教育, which would be the responsibility of the Monbushō 文 部省 (Ministry of Education). Nevertheless, this relationship did become an issue after 1873, when Monbushō officials returned from Europe at least partly convinced of the ideal of separating religion and education.13 From around this time, Monbushō bureaucrats began advocating a clear distinction between the roles of proselytizers and schoolteachers, which eventually led to the exclusion of Buddhist priests from public education. This ban was later relaxed, and then ultimately lifted in 1879, when it became clear that the Buddhist clergy was essential in terms of personnel for the Monbushō enterprise. Note that although the Daikyōin had been dissolved in 1875 (and the Kyōbushō itself abolished in 1877), the kyōdōshoku system itself continued well into the following decade. This meant that the time



Introduction

7

between the late 1870s and early 1880s was one of accommodation for Buddhists, who now had to find their role amid this new division between “education” and “religion.” In fact, while kyōdōshoku members of the Buddhist clergy still had a public role, the office also increasingly lost importance, making it clear that it was just a matter of time until it was abolished altogether. In the “enlightened” environment of Meiji Japan, asserting themselves vis-à-vis the old “enemy” of Christianity as a positive force for the state became the highest commitment for most Buddhists. From the early 1880s, as Japan embarked on the journey to become a constitutional state, Buddhists strove at the intellectual level to adapt to the myriad new discourses required by current times. Besides the abovementioned concept of “education,” the concepts of “science” and “religion” also posed their challenges, as did those of “individual” and “faith.” Another important development at this time was the rise of lay Buddhist movements. Whereas until the early Meiji years nonclerical persons in positions of leadership in Buddhist institutions were virtually unheard of, laypeople began playing a major role around this time, as we can observe in the work of individuals such as Ōuchi Seiran 大内青 巒 (1845–1918) and Nakanishi Ushirō 中西牛郎 (1859–1930). Their less directly engaged position—or in other words, the fact that they were not as committed to institutional demands—was also important in overcoming, when necessary, the sectarianism so characteristic of Japanese Buddhist schools. This in turn became an essential tool for reframing Buddhism as a “religion.”

Establishing the Modern Buddhist Institution (1884–1900) Between the late 1870s and early 1880s, as the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement (Jiyū minken undō 自由民権運動) gained strength, so did the demand for a constitution. The idea of a constitutional environment—and the possibility of Japan adopting a state religion— provided Buddhists with a new type of awareness, which can be observed, for instance, in the work of Shaku Unshō 釈雲照 (1827–1909) included in this sourcebook. At the same time, the realm of religious policy also experienced its own crisis. With the demise of the Daikyōin in 1875— due mainly to the lack of cooperation by Jōdo Shin priests prompted by Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷 (1838–1911)14—a new Shinto-centered bureau took over much of its role. A dispute arose between the chief

8

Introduction

priest of the Ise Shrines, who had been appointed the head of this new Office of Shinto Affairs (Shintō jimukyoku 神道事務局), and the chief priest of Izumo Shrine over which deities to enshrine in the office. As a consequence of this “Pantheon Dispute” (saijin ronsō 祭神論争), which could only be solved by the arbitration of the Imperial court, in 1882 the government forbade priests working in national and Imperial shrines (kankoku heisha 官国幣社) from serving as kyōdōshoku. They were also forbidden to perform funerals. The dissatisfied factions went on to establish their own institutions, giving rise to the distinction between “Shrine Shinto” and “Sect Shinto.”15 This internal dispute, intrinsically related to the very issue of Imperial authority, constituted the final blow to the already moribund kyōdōshoku system. Between March and April 1884, Inoue Kowashi 井上毅 (1844–1895), one of the architects of the Meiji Constitution, proposed the elimination of the office. He emphasized the ideal of religious freedom alongside a legal framework for regulating religious corporations.16 Indeed, a few months later in August 1884, the Council of State promulgated a directive abolishing the position of kyōdōshoku, an event of utmost importance for Buddhism. The proclamation not only ended the twelveyear existence of the office, but also reformulated the sectarian administrator system (kanchō seido 管長制度), giving religious institutions the autonomy to appoint and dismiss their own clergy. Furthermore, it also stipulated that Buddhist schools had to prepare, according to the principles of their own foundational doctrines (rikkyō kaishū no shugi 立教開 宗ノ主義), a sectarian constitution (shūsei 宗制), laws for governing temples (jihō 寺法), and rules for appointing clerics for various positions. These would be submitted to the minister of home affairs (naimukyō 内務卿), who would then authorize the sects’ provisions.17 This right to self-determination affected Buddhist sects in very different ways. Some sects had to come up with solutions for long-term internal rivalries, such as the centuries-old friction between the Sōjiji 総 持寺 and Eiheiji 永平寺 temples in Sōtō Zen, or even give consideration to what would, in essence, be their “foundational doctrine.” Others had relatively little trouble developing a centralized administration based on the tenets of modern bureaucracy. This newly gained autonomy, albeit limited by the boundaries set by the home minister, introduced yet another sense of crisis for Buddhists—they needed a clear “doctrine,” which, as per contemporary requirements, had to accord with ideals such as “science” and “rationality.” That is, in a context in



Introduction

9

which the influence of Christianity grew each day, Buddhists emphasized that their “religion,” despite its many flaws, was still in harmony with the moral goals of the Japanese nation and could, therefore, contribute to uniting people’s spirits. Buddhism, they held, was a better aid than Christianity for the national enterprise not only because it had been in Japan for longer, but because “rationally,” it made sense. The 1890s, however, brought yet new developments. The Meiji Constitution of 1889 and Imperial Rescript on Education in 1890 both settled the idea of religious freedom alongside the understanding of emperor worship as civic duty. The 1891 lèse-majesté incident involving Uchimura Kanzō 内村鑑三 (1861–1930), who as a Christian had hesitated to fully bow during a ritual reading of the Rescript, provided the Buddhist world with further ammunition to question the role of their old enemy in the new constitutional framework. Could Christians uphold their beliefs without compromising their duties as subjects? The Buddhist answer was obviously “no.”18 This became a still more pressing issue in 1894, when the government signed, just before the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War, the Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Commerce and Navigation (Nichiei tsūshō kōkai jōyaku 日英通商航海条約). By the terms of the agreement, scheduled to come into force five years later in July 1899, British nationals in Japan would be subject to local laws, which implied an end to the system of extraterritoriality and the enactment of what the Japanese referred to as “mixed residence” (naichi zakkyo 内地 雑居). At a time when Japan was becoming more aggressive in its colonial enterprises, the new system meant that foreigners were no longer limited to inhabiting specific settlements such as Kobe or Yokohama, but could now live anywhere in Japanese territory as long as they complied with the law. The idea of Christians roaming around as they wished felt like a threat to many, which prompted the government to begin considering a law of religions.19

Into the Twentieth Century Such a law of religions was proposed in 1899, the same year in which the mixed-residence system was scheduled to begin. It established somewhat equal regulations for Sect Shinto, Buddhism, and Christianity, but as scholars have pointed out, failed to satisfy any of the representatives of the different groups. While it did find some advocates among Buddhists, most schools united against the law,20 claiming that Buddhism, as

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Introduction

the religion of the majority of the Japanese, should be granted a special legal status, akin to what Catholic and Protestant churches experienced in France and Germany, respectively. They were successful in their lobbying efforts, as in early 1900 the law, which had been approved by the (lower) House of Representatives, was rejected by the (upper) House of Peers. This caused the government to revise its plans and establish, in April 1900, two new offices within the Home Ministry: the Shrine and Religion Bureaus. The latter was supposed to oversee all “religions” (including Sect Shinto), whereas the former would be in charge of official “Shrine Shinto” (jinja shintō 神社神道) affairs. This division, which in a sense formalized the influential discourse of Shrine Shinto as “nonreligious,” is considered by scholars as a major turning point in the establishment of what we now refer to as “State Shinto” (kokka shintō 国家神道).21 The late nineteenth century was, as seen above, a time of rapid change not only for Buddhism, but for the entire Japanese religious landscape. For Buddhist schools, in particular, it was a time of adaptation and negotiation, a time of finding new justifications for their existence vis-à-vis the state and in relation to each other. Indeed, although Hayashi Makoto mentions the years between 1900 and 1945 as the last stage of his periodization, he does imply that the impact of the above challenges continued to influence the way Buddhists acted and thought well into the twentieth century, a point readers can confirm in several of the texts included here. In the following section, we will provide a brief history of how scholarship has dealt with this complicated period, after which we will provide an overview of how this volume relates to some of these questions.

The History of Research on Modern Japanese Buddhism in Western Languages Although the question of modernity was in a way one of the defining issues in postwar Western-language scholarship on Japan, religion was conspicuously absent from research in modern Japanese history long after 1945. The paradigm of modernization theory that dominated the field well into the 1970s implied that secularization had rendered religion more or less obsolete in the modern age. The Japanese case seemed to bear out this assumption particularly well, given the aggressively secularist stance of Japanese elites.



Introduction

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The role of religious institutions or religious thought within modern Japanese history was not entirely absent in Western scholarship, but it did not become a main focus of studies until around 1980. The first important monographic study, Kathleen Staggs’s 1979 dissertation In Defense of Japanese Buddhism remains unpublished, yet it is still often cited.22 It was not until 1990 that a landmark study of Meiji Buddhism with a legitimate claim to present a comprehensive picture introduced the importance of this subject into English-language scholarship with force. James Ketelaar’s Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan23 to this day remains the point of departure for anyone dealing with Meiji Buddhism in the English language, given that it effectively covers central aspects including Tokugawa-period preconditions, the haibutsu kishaku narrative central to the book’s title, attempts of intra-Buddhist reform in response to the crisis of the first years of the Meiji period, and the early years of the global spread of Japanese Buddhism. This groundbreaking work has since then been complemented by more specialized studies in a number of important subfields. One of these has been the introduction of individuals important to the story of modern Buddhism. In 2002, Peter Kleinen contributed to this genre with a study on the bakumatsu priest Gesshō 月性 (1817–1858), including a full German translation of his Buppō gokoku ron 仏法護国論.24 The same author had already penned a monograph on Tanaka Chigaku 田中智学 earlier, although this was written more within the context of the Japanese ultranationalism and fascism of the 1930s.25 More recently, Hans Martin Krämer has produced a study of the early Shimaji Mokurai, a pioneer of many modernist innovations, particularly in the field of the relationship of religion and the state. Mokurai’s contributions were to characterize modern Buddhism, and especially the modern Jōdo Shinshū institutions, throughout the last decades of the nineteenth century.26 Even before Ketelaar’s study, interest in the history of Christianity in modern Japan had led to the publication of Notto Thelle’s Buddhism and Christianity in Japan in 1987.27 For the bakumatsu and the late Meiji period, Thelle offers a comprehensive account of the changing character of the relationship between the two religions, introducing a plethora of historical actors and texts from both sides. A work of similar character was written by Monika Schrimpf in German, extending the time frame somewhat up to the end of the Meiji period.28 More recently, Michel Mohr has complicated the picture of Buddhist-Christian relations by looking beyond the mainline denominations and focusing on the

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Introduction

cooperation between Unitarians and Japanese Buddhists toward the end of the Meiji period.29 Another focus of Western-language studies has been the internal institutional changes of Buddhist sects in the Meiji period. Two dramatic changes stand out, especially when viewed in comparison to the preceding Tokugawa period. One concerned the way of dealing with death. While Buddhism had had a virtual monopoly on entombing the dead and conducting funeral rites up to 1868, this was now challenged by competition from Shinto shrines. The challenge was more than symbolic, as the livelihood of priests largely depended on the funerary business. In his 2006 Modern Passings, Andrew Bernstein has looked into how Buddhism weathered these difficulties in the early Meiji period.30 Richard Jaffe has researched the other great change imposed upon Buddhist priests by the new government in 1868, namely the rescission of the prohibition of marriage that had been upheld by the state until then.31 This is also one of the few works in English that has taken up the question of monastic rules, the future of which was a hotly contested issue in Buddhist circles in the last decades of the nineteenth century. One of the major topics pioneered by Ketelaar’s Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan was the beginnings of the propagation of Japanese Buddhism in Europe and North America, especially through the participation of Japanese priests in the 1893 World Parliament of Religions in Chicago. The Japanese activities at the Parliament have been the subject of two monographic studies, Presenting Japanese Buddhism to the West by Judith Snodgrass32 and Mahayana Phoenix by John Harding.33 In contrast, the introduction of Japanese Buddhism to Europe has not been a central object of scholarship so far and has mostly been treated either marginally within the framework of the introduction of Buddhism overall or within Japanese religions more broadly, such as in the case of Frédéric Girard’s book on Émile Guimet and Japanese religions.34 Surprisingly, despite the groundwork laid by Kathleen Staggs, the vicissitudes Buddhist thought underwent in modern Japan have not been the central subject of monographic studies, although they do play some role in many of the studies mentioned already. Galen Amstutz’s diachronic study of Pure Land thought in Japan includes a substantial chapter on the modern period.35 Similarly, Clinton Godart’s recent study of evolutionary theory in modern Japan includes an in-depth consideration of how Buddhists situated themselves vis-à-vis this specific challenge of the modern natural sciences.36



Introduction

13

Another subject that until very recently was marginal is the connection that emerged, since the 1890s, between Buddhism and progressive politics. While some scholarship on the later twentieth-century movement of Engaged Buddhism had been available for some time, two recent English-language monographs have now advanced our understanding of this movement’s Meiji-period precedents. While Melissa Curley’s Pure Land, Real World 37 focuses on the Jōdo Shinshū, James Mark Shields’s Against Harmony38 casts a slightly wider net to include Zen as well as Nichiren Buddhism. Both works only partially deal with the Meiji period and include events up to 1945 and even the early postwar period. Equally marginal, but perhaps even more important, is the subject of Japanese Buddhism in relation to “Asia.” Although, as we will see in the section below, a number of volumes on that subject have been published in Japanese in recent years, there is still very little work on it in other languages. Notable exceptions are Micah L. Auerback’s unpublished PhD dissertation39 and Hwansoo I. Kim’s Empire of the Dharma,40 both focusing on the role of Japanese Buddhism in colonial Korea. Although Richard Jaffe’s recent Seeking Śākyamuni addresses the issue of Japanese connections with South and Southeast Asia,41 there is, other than in Japanese, still no monograph-length study in English (or any other European language) of the position of Japanese Buddhist schools in either continental China or colonial Taiwan, for instance. Lastly, a number of recent studies are already beginning to have great impact on the field of the history of modern Japanese Buddhism, despite being of a more synthetic character. The most important to mention in this context is Jason Ā. Josephson’s 2012 monograph The Invention of Religion in Japan, the first work to take up the question of how the concept of religion was “invented” in modern Japan and what consequences its appropriation yielded, including its effects on modernizing Buddhism.42 A similar work with a greater focus on the relationship between religious groups and the state is Trent Maxey’s 2014 monograph The “Greatest Problem.” 43 Finally, there is Isomae Jun’ichi’s Religious Discourse in Modern Japan of the same year, which also sets its main focus on the complicated consequences of the introduction of the modern concept of “religion” into Japan, but this time with a focus on its effects within the academy, especially the emerging field of religious studies in Japan.44 Almost all of the studies mentioned above stand in close relationship to Japanese scholarship on the same subject, in that they were

14

Introduction

prompted by or developed in close cooperation with Japanese scholars of modern Buddhism. In fact, although relatively marginal within Japan, Japanese scholarship on the history of modern Buddhism predates that in Western languages by several decades and may be thought crucial for the agenda setting of the latter.

History of Research of Modern Japanese Buddhism in Japanese Domestic considerations of the post-Restoration development of Buddhist history began during the 1890s and became both more frequent and robust around 1930. For instance, in 1894 the journal Bukkyō 仏教 (Buddhism) published a call for papers on historical sources of “Meiji Buddhism,”45 which was followed, from the next issue, with contemporary accounts by important figures such as Nanjō Bun’yū 南条文雄 (1849–1927) and Maeda Eun 前田慧雲 (1855–1930). Ten years after this early attempt, Ōuchi Seiran would publish, in the pages of the journal Shin Bukkyō 新仏教 (New Buddhism), an article titled “Lectures on the History of Meiji Buddhism,” which in a vein similar to the papers mentioned above, relied on the contemporary eyewitness character of its author.46 The establishment of the journal Bukkyō shigaku 仏教史学 (Studies in Buddhist history) in 1911 meant yet another important step in the historical study of Buddhism, and served as a catalyst to the gathering of sources that would, in the following decade, culminate in the Meiji ishin shinbutsu bunri shiryō 明治維新神仏分離史料 (Historical sources on the separation of Shinto and Buddhism during the Meiji Restoration), a true tour de force in five volumes published between 1926 and 1929. Although important works on the Restoration’s impact on Buddhism were published from the mid-1920s, the following decade saw far more important developments in terms of monographic studies on the topic. For instance in 1933, Tomomatsu Entai 友松円諦 (1895–1973), encouraged by French orientalist Sylvain Lévi (1863–1935), established in Tokyo the Historiographical Institute for Meiji Buddhism (Meiji bukkyōshi hensanjo 明治仏教史編纂所), which, despite being only a minor influence at the time, did help pave the way for a whole generation of scholars focusing on the modern history of Buddhism, and revealed the then increasing preoccupation to save as many primary sources from the Meiji period as possible. After 1945, the postwar generation would build upon this documentary groundwork and, based on a new interpretation of the meaning of



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15

“modernity,” turn the study of “Meiji Buddhism” on its head. The generation of scholars represented by Yoshida Kyūichi and Kashiwahara Yūsen 柏原祐泉 (1916–2003), who had lived through the Pacific War as male adults in their late twenties and were influenced by Marxism, presented a narrative of modern Japanese Buddhism critical to the role of religious institutions in the formation of the so-called Emperor System (tennōsei 天皇制). This group of scholars, active mostly between the 1950s and 1980s, understood the collaborationist attitude of Buddhist schools in the modern war efforts as marks of a “feudal character” that somehow survived into the Meiji period. They saw an exception to this affirmative position only in the few instances when Buddhists openly defied the state or, rather and more frequently, proposed alternatives to what these postwar scholars perceived as a totalitarian system. In this sense, to the point that they served to affirm state ideology, the majority of Buddhist activities was criticized as “feudal,” whereas innovative and sometimes “anti-establishment” movements such as Kiyozawa Manshi’s 清沢満之 (1863–1903) Seishinshugi 精神主義 (Spiritualism) or Sakaino Kōyō’s 境野黄洋 (1871–1933) Shin Bukkyō 新仏教 (New Buddhism) were deemed worthy of the rubric “modern,” or kindaiteki 近代的. These early postwar scholars followed the mainstream of non-Marxist social science and historiography in Japan. Associated with names such as Maruyama Masao 丸山真男 (1914–1996) or Ōtsuka Hisao 大塚久雄 (1907–1996), the concern with Japan’s modernity—or rather its lack thereof—dominated those disciplines well into the 1970s and even 1980s. Despite this modernist view of history, scholars such as Yoshida and Kashiwahara, alongside their junior Ikeda Eishun 池田英俊 (1929– 2004), produced important works that remain authoritative in the field to this day,47 and were responsible for encouraging a new generation of younger students of modern Buddhism. Indeed, while these earlier scholars saw the history of modern Japanese Buddhism as the process of the realization of their own postwar ideal of modernism—and criticized everything that was not part thereof as “feudal”—the following generation, represented by Okada Masahiko 岡田正彦 (b. 1962),48 Fukushima Eiju 福島栄寿 (b. 1965),49 Moriya Tomoe 守屋友江 (b. 1968),50 and Ōtani Eiichi 大谷栄一 (b. 1968),51 would take yet a different stance. Influenced by the discursive approach that had a decisive impact upon the Japanese humanities from the 1990s onward, this generation of scholars was less interested in the issue of war responsibility and more focused on understanding the strategic self-styling of the historical

16

Introduction

actors—that is: what did it mean, in the context of modern Japan, to be a “Buddhist”? The research results presented by those younger scholars need to be understood in connection with the handful of studies on the establishment of the modern concept of “religion” (shūkyō 宗教) published after the mid-1990s. Despite some earlier works on the topic, monographs such as those by Haga Shōji,52 Yamaguchi Teruomi,53 and Isomae Jun’ichi,54 as well as the edited volume Reconsidering “Religion” by Shimazono Susumu and Tsuruoka Yoshio,55 showed that issues of self-identification were as much at the core of the so-called modernization process as were institutional changes. The attention to identity formation included a new focus on how Japanese national identity was shaped vis-à-vis Asia, and this translated into new studies focusing on cultural aspects of Buddhist proselytization in China and Korea. Moreover, research into the activities of Japanese Buddhists on the mainland, and other aspects of accommodation of sectarian institutions with the wartime state, now aimed less at facile criticism of these instances of “collaboration,” but rather at identifying the inner logic behind it.56 By the end of the first decade of the twenty-first century, enough works had been published that the first critiques of the field itself started to appear. Spearheaded by the abovementioned Hayashi Makoto—who also served for several years as president of the Society for the Study of Modern Japanese Buddhist History (Nihon Kindai Bukkyōshi Kenkyūkai 日本近代 仏教史研究会, the main hub for scholars in the field)—these critiques sometimes pointed to how the field had changed in terms of self-identification, in the course of the 1950s and 1960s, from Meiji Buddhism to Modern Buddhism, and how the actual contents of these studies had shifted along with our very understanding of “modernity.” He alluded, for instance, to the lack of studies on the transition between the Edo and Meiji periods, on the early Shōwa period, and on the transition into the postwar period.57 Consciously or not, more recent scholars have produced studies that, in many ways, fill in at least some of the gaps pointed out by Hayashi. Having experienced graduate education in an environment where the dialogue with non-Japanese scholarship was already the norm, studies by Tanigawa Yutaka 谷川穣 (b. 1973), Hoshino Seiji 星野靖二 (b. 1973), Ōsawa Kōji 大澤広嗣 (b. 1975), Iwata Mami 岩田真美 (b. 1980), Shigeta Shinji 繁田真爾 (b. 1980), Kondō Shuntarō 近藤俊太郎 (b. 1980), and Ōmi Toshihiro 碧海寿広 (b. 1981) have more explicitly connected Buddhism and its institutions with other areas of social activities, thus



Introduction

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expanding the narrower traditional “History of Buddhism” into broader historiographical inquiries. For instance, what was the role of Buddhism in the development of modern education or the modern disciplinary institutions?58 How did the idea of “Buddhism” function in the establishment of “religion” or “art” as modern discourses?59 What was the ideological and practical role of Buddhism in the formation of panAsianism?60 How did Buddhism connect with the reception of Marxist theory in modern Japan?61 How did Japanese Buddhism negotiate the role of women within the emerging modern gender relations?62 These are, obviously, not simple questions to be answered in a single monograph; nonetheless, they show us that in terms of both perspective and scope, the field is now thriving as never before.

Major Issues of Modern Japanese Buddhism As already emphasized, during the nineteenth century Japanese Buddhists faced a number of challenges, ranging from their identity as Buddhists (i.e., the very reconception of Buddhism as a “religion”) to their role as subjects of an increasingly larger empire. With that in mind, and for the purposes of this volume, we have divided the voices of nineteenthcentury Japanese Buddhists, represented by the twenty-two chapters of this book, into five sections. These sections reflect major issues they faced, as identified in the scholarship summarized above, namely: 1) sectarian reform; 2) the nation; 3) science and philosophy; 4) social reform; and 5) Japan and Asia. The bulk of non-doctrinal writing by Japanese Buddhist authors was in one way or the other devoted to one or several of these themes, which also came to inform their identity, be it primarily sectarian or more integrally Buddhist. Furthermore, none of these issues can be analyzed in a national vacuum; the role of Western precedent, competition, or cooperation is prominent throughout.

Sectarian Reform The role of comparisons to the West is clear even with regard to the most inward of the five themes, that of sectarian reform. Undoubtedly, the most important trigger of inner reform was the severe criticism Japanese Buddhism faced from a variety of quarters. Confucian-inspired critique had been a mainstay of Tokugawa-period elite discourses since the early seventeenth century. Confucianists attacked the clergy as corrupt

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Introduction

and the Buddhist teaching as otherworldly, a distraction from the paramount concerns of real life, that is, ethics. From the eighteenth century onward, the Nativist school of Kokugaku 国学 added to the mix with its vitriolic emphasis on the foreignness of Buddhism, supposedly unsuited for Japan. There was not much that was substantially new in the movements of the Late Mito School and Restoration Shinto, which sprang up in the first half of the nineteenth century. They were, however, important conduits for transporting and amplifying older critiques of Buddhism and translating them into action, such as the anti-Buddhist policies of the late Edo period.63 A number of these points of criticism were grudgingly accepted by members of the Buddhist clergy, and a precept revival movement, aimed at rooting out the most widespread degenerations that had become the target of criticism, emerged from the mid-eighteenth century, associated with the names of Jiun Onkō 慈雲飲光 (1718–1804) and Fujaku 普寂 (1707–1781), among others. This movement was prominently continued in the Meiji era by the Pure Land priest Fukuda Gyōkai 福田行誡 (1809– 1888). Indeed, the concern with monastic rules and the interference of the government into priestly life is the main concern of the first text introduced in this volume, Gyōkai’s 1876 “Questions and Answers from Beneath a Snowy Window” (part I, chapter 1), which includes a pointed critique of the contemporary focus of Buddhist priests on conducting funerals for securing their livelihood, a very appropriate object for reform in his eyes. Institutional reforms were spurred on by the haibutsu kishaku policies and the disestablishment of Buddhism immediately following the Meiji Revolution of 1868. An early example was the establishment of a new regional school for priests by a reform group of the Jōdo Shinshū in Yamaguchi in 1866.64 The older academies also slowly took up the cause of reform, such as the Takakura Gakuryō 高倉学寮 of the Ōtani branch of the same sect, which established a Department for the Protection of the Dharma (gohōjō 護法場) in 1868, where for the first time texts from other religions, especially Christianity, were studied. These early reform initiatives, however, were dwarfed by the inner changes the sects underwent during the course of the Meiji period, which some observers have called a “Protestantization” of Japanese Buddhism.65 Among the observable transformations were standardizations and unifications (such as of the Zen rituals for school founders or of koan phrasebooks) and simplifications and abridgements (such as those rituals in the esoteric schools now deemed too superstitious, or making Shugendō into



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a distinct institution). Many of these concrete reforms were notionally based on a new understanding of Buddhism as a “religion,” that is, a social system of action fairly clearly delimited, no longer encompassing all walks of life, but restricted to the spiritual dimension. It was by living up to its full potential as an “ideal religion” that Japanese Buddhism might also prove its superiority to the rival Christianity, as Nakanishi Ushirō argued in his 1889 On Religious Revolution (part I, chapter 2). While this rethinking of the nature of Buddhism by Buddhists themselves began in the early Meiji period, it gained considerable momentum with the formation of the The Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists (Bukkyō Seito Dōshikai 仏 教清徒同志会) in 1899 and establishment of its journal Shin Bukkyō in the following year. As the editorial from the inaugural issue of that journal introduced in this volume (part I, chapter 3) shows, the “New Buddhists” literally derided the “Old Buddhism” as superstitious, while calling for the “improvement of inner character through religious faith.” A genuinely new element of anti-Buddhism had come into play when Christian missionaries began proselytizing and publishing in Japan. They mainly took aim at Buddhist cosmology, rituals, and elements of faith that they viewed as superstitions. A potent weapon they employed in doing so was the historicization of what used to be elements of revelatory religion, following recent trends of liberal theology in Europe and North America.66 It took Japanese Buddhists until the 1890s to come to grips with this challenge,67 and only then did a historical approach to scriptural commentary and interpretation begin to take hold. As the authors—it is attributed to Kiyozawa Manshi—of an 1897 editorial for the journal Kyōkai jigen 教界時言 argued (introduced in this volume as part I, chapter 4), the independent study of scripture, unmediated by traditional commentaries, actually aided in understanding the core meaning of sacred texts. In this way, Japanese Buddhist reform in the Meiji period pervaded both form and content. Institutional reform, educational reform, and the reform of the idea of and scholarship on Buddhism were intimately intertwined. Reform also had from the very beginning an eminently political dimension, which will be explored in the next section.

The Nation The early modern period in Japan has been characterized as an era of budding nationalism. First articulated as the call for emancipation from

20

Introduction

Japan’s “unforgettable other,” China, the incursions by Russia and other Western powers into Japanese territory from the late eighteenth century onward markedly accelerated articulations of proto-nationalism. From the 1830s onward, tracts on national defense appeared, and religion also became a prominent topic in writings on national independence, as a Christian infiltration was seen as a first step toward conquest by the Western nations. Japanese Buddhists were not part of this discourse until the 1850s, when some of them began portraying Buddhism as the ideal bulwark against the spiritual onslaught of Christianity. More than anyone else, it is the Jōdo Shinshū priest Gesshō who is associated with this movement that sought to protect both the dharma (gohō 護法) and the nation (gokoku 護国). In his On Protecting the Nation through Buddhism, posthumously published in 1858 and introduced in this volume (part II, chapter 1), Gesshō explained how Buddhism, and the Jōdo Shinshū in particular, was the best means to provide spiritual guidance in order to repel the Westerners whose strategy it was to weaken Japan spiritually through the introduction of Christianity. Efforts at proving the utility of Buddhism in the face of national crisis were prominent in, but not limited to, the Jōdo Shinshū. Given its historically strong rhetorical emphasis on saving the nation, it is no wonder that similar positions could be found in the Nichiren sect in the years immediately preceding the Meiji Revolution. A good example of this is the tract “Upholding Faith in the Buddhadharma and Repaying the Nation” penned by the layman Ogawa Taidō 小川泰堂 (1814–1878) in 1863 (part II, chapter 2). He traced the origins of the contemporary political crisis in Japan, its existence threatened by foreign powers, to a “neglect of the Buddhadharma.” Tellingly, the way to protect the nation for Ogawa lay in correct practice, which first meant internal reform. This was necessary given the dismal situation Ogawa thought much of current Buddhism to be in. However, as we have seen above, much to the chagrin of the Japanese Buddhist establishment it was to Shinto that the young government turned as the main building block of post-Restoration religious policy. The separation of the Tokugawa-era link between state and temples and the turmoil in religious policy in the first few years of the Meiji period prompted some of the more perceptive among the clergy to fundamentally rethink the relationship between religion and state, or indeed, to think through this relationship in those terms for the very first time, given that the conceptual framework to do so was just emerging in the



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Japanese language. It was in particular the Three Articles of Instruction that prompted debate and invited criticism by Buddhists who felt that it was time that Buddhism was recognized as a vital force by the new Meiji state. An already very senior scholar priest joining the debate over the Three Articles of Instruction was Higuchi Ryūon 樋口竜温 (1800–1885) of the Jōdo Shinshū. In his 1873 “Lectures on the Three Articles of Instruction” (part II, chapter 3), he argues that the hearts of the people need to unite in order to form a strong nation. Just as the Western nations were built on Christianity, the Japanese nation needed a religious foundation. Concurrently with Higuchi, the idea that Shinto is unsuitable for this task was spelled out most aggressively and most prominently by his fellow Jōdo Shinshū cleric Shimaji Mokurai. This mostly intra-Buddhist discussion coincided in the early 1870s with the debates among the secular intellectuals of the Meiji Six Society (Meirokusha 明六社). Although these intellectuals agreed in principle that religion might be useful for uniting the nation, they also saw that a situation of religious plurality might best be dealt with by establishing the separation of religion and state and the freedom of religion. Given the tendency of the early Meiji state to prefer Shinto, this position was attractive to Buddhists, since it promised the protection of their creed, if not as a state cult, then at least as a private religion. This status came to be enshrined in the Meiji Constitution of 1889. Throughout these early years of the Meiji period, the other predominant political issue that religious groups in Japan were faced with was the question of Christianity. Pressure by the Western imperialist nations to lift the ban against Christianity had grown since the first unequal treaties had been signed beginning in 1854. Finally, its practice was permitted generally since 1873. For most Buddhists, the question was not whether to repel Christianity or not, but how to do so most effectively. A prominent representative of Buddhist intellectuals devoted to the antiChristian cause was Ugai Tetsujō 養鸕徹定 (1814–1891), who (under the pseudonym Kiyū Dōjin 杞憂道人) published his textbook for Buddhist priests Laughing at Christianity in 1869 (part II, chapter 4). Ugai largely relies on the old Sino-Japanese tradition of anti-Christian pamphlets dating back to the seventeenth century, which is visible both in the items of Christian doctrine he singles out for attack as well as in his positive advocacy of a cooperation between Buddhism, Shinto, and Confucianism, which would soon be replaced by a more self-confident stance arguing on the basis of the strength of Buddhism alone.

22

Introduction

Refutations of Christianity remained acute for Buddhist scholars well into the Meiji period. They were frequently articulated within a political argument for the predominance of Buddhism, especially before the compromise of the Meiji Constitution. The Shingon priest Shaku Unshō 釈雲照 (1827–1909), for instance, argued that Buddhism had always been the main religion of the Imperial house and was thus fit to be the national doctrine of Japan. In his 1882 work “On the National Doctrine of Greater Japan” (part II, chapter 5), Unshō, like many of his contemporaries, stressed the need for moral reform of Buddhists themselves before Buddhism could serve as the religion of the nation. The emphasis on the need for inner reform receded somewhat after the 1880s and was replaced by a more openly articulated support of the new nation-state. A further self-confident Buddhism also began to engage in social reform of society at large. The most pressing concern of Buddhist intellectuals in the 1880s, however, was the commensurability of Buddhism with modern forms of thought, especially modern academic philosophy. This ushered in a debate that was to dominate Buddhist writing in Japan in the 1880s and 1890s, which will be taken up in the next section.

Science and Philosophy No scholar of religion is a stranger to the old adage that “Buddhism” is a religion compatible with “Science.” As Donald S. Lopez Jr. has repeatedly pointed out, the history of this relationship overlaps, in many ways, with the very story of how we came to understand ourselves as “modern.”68 In Japan, in particular, this is certainly the case, as both concepts of “science” and “philosophy” were only established in the archipelago through the mediation of a type of “Buddhism” that was, more than a mere “religion,” also both “scientific” and “philosophic.” As explained in the previous section, the nineteenth-century (re-) encounter with Christianity functioned for Buddhists everywhere in Japan as a call to arms of sorts. Although earlier critiques such as those by Ugai Tetsujō had been based on late medieval anti-Christian tracts, and even later works by the likes of Shaku Unshō still grounded themselves on a highly idealized primeval relationship between Buddhism and the Imperial court, several Buddhists began dabbling in what they regarded as far more sophisticated methods for criticizing Christianity, which in the mid-Meiji context now “threatened” Japan in yet a different way.



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With the establishment of European-inspired political institutions in the 1870s and into the 1880s, the question was always present as to which religion Japan should adopt as a nation—or whether it should do so at all. Japanese Christians emphasized that if Japan were to follow in the footsteps of Euro-American nations, it needed Christianity, which was the very ethical cornerstone of those regions. Buddhists, on the other hand, naturally rejected this idea, but the gist of their argument now was no longer Christianity’s belligerent character, but its philosophical unsoundness in terms of “science.” Sada Kaiseki 佐田介石 (1818–1882) (in part III, chapter 1), argued for a uniquely Japanese idea of progress that did not rely on things Western, which led him to dispute the very core of Christian cosmology, suggesting it presented a demiurgical idea of God. Although in some respects disparate even for contemporary eyes, Sada’s text does pose questions related to theodicy that, in essence, are meant to convince the reader of the usefulness of Buddhist science as an alternative to the Christian paradigm of modernization. Although not yet explicitly present in Sada, the recurrent issue of whether Buddhism is a “religion” or “philosophy” was considered in depth by one of his contemporaries, fellow cleric and University of Tokyo instructor Hara Tanzan 原坦山 (1819–1892) (see part III, chapter 2). In the late 1880s this author would claim that, to the extent it cares little about the existence of “ghostly realms” and rather focuses on the elimination of affliction and sickness, Buddhism is not a “religion” but a “philosophy.” Influenced by the Japanese translation of Henry S. Olcott’s Buddhist Catechism (orig. 1881), Tanzan’s statement was a clear reaction against the type of faith-centered concept of “religion” that was starting to take root at the time. That is, in the sense that it is essentially a scientific endeavor, Buddhism was not supposed to be even considered in the same framework as Christianity, a system based entirely on what he regarded as blind belief. Having attended Tanzan’s classes at the University of Tokyo, Inoue Enryō 井上円了 (1858–1919) (see part III, chapter 3), would take the above discussion one step further and claim that Buddhism was indeed a “religion,” albeit a “philosophical” one. In a context in which it was common knowledge that a constitution was in the works—and it was still unknown whether a political system with a state religion would be adopted—attempts to assert Buddhism as superior to Christianity became all the more frequent. The latter was but a “religion” based on emotion, whereas Buddhism, in turn, did share that aspect but went

24

Introduction

beyond, also constituting what Enryō dubbed an “intellectual religion” (chiryokuteki shūkyō 智力的宗教). He did acknowledge, however, that the Buddhism present in his time was not Buddhism as it should be, and for it to actually function as the true religion of Japan, it needed to be appropriately “revived.” What Enryō argued for, then, was the (re)construction of a Buddhism rooted in reason, which unlike Christianity could guide the nation on the path of modernity. The issue of constructing Buddhism as a sound “religion” was, therefore, one of the most pressing of Meiji Japan. However, the question also arose of what was, precisely, the scope of this religion: while Christianity was, in the late nineteenth century, presented to the Japanese as a more or less well-defined system, Buddhists still struggled in that regard. Amid the myriad schools and sects of Buddhism, there was no historical consensus as to what should be the core of their teachings, a fact that prompted Meiji Buddhists to distill their canon(s) and produce textual compilations reminiscent of the Christian Bible.69 This contemporary demand to present Buddhism as a single religion was, however, not a struggle solely devoted to finding common doctrinal grounds, but also in terms of convincingly presenting the internal consistency of these teachings. It is precisely this issue that Murakami Senshō 村上専精 (1851–1929), professor of Buddhist Studies at the then Tokyo Imperial University, attempted to address in the intended five volumes of his Discourse on Buddhist Unity, published from 1901. Murakami’s work is also, in many senses, a response to contemporary European Buddhologists who presented as most authoritative a version of Buddhism centered on the Pali Canon, dismissing Mahāyāna developments as latter-day corruptions. Murakami, therefore, not only endeavored to produce a synthesis of Buddhist thought, explicating the connection between contemporary Japanese forms and their purported Indian past, but also, as the text translated in this volume (part III, chapter 4) reveals, strove to show the meaning of this unified doctrine in terms of a sound “faith.” From the turn of the century, as Christianity settled in Japan, discussions over the legal status of religion moved toward a consensus. Moreover, European scholars became more receptive to the Mahāyāna as a form of Buddhism worthy of respect, and thus the need to present (Japanese) Buddhism as a philosophical religion in accordance with the principles of science decreased. The new idea of a reformed, “unified” Buddhism was connected, as seen in the previous section, not only to



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the rise of harsh critiques of sectarian identity, but also led, ultimately, to the ways in which Buddhists related to society as a whole.

Social Reform As explained above, internal sectarian reform was a crucial element in the modernization of Japanese Buddhism. Even statements challenging Christianity or Shinto were frequently accompanied by the caveat that only a reformed, modern Buddhism would be able to wield a superiority over other religions. This reformist zeal, however, also affected Buddhist attitudes toward the broader society. Although endeavors in social reform can be seen as reactions to conventional critiques of Buddhism as of a purely otherworldly orientation, they were certainly also driven by genuine religious convictions. Social engagement by Meiji-period Buddhists took many shapes. One of the earliest, and somewhat less explicit, was their involvement in the movement now referred to as “civilization and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika 文明開化). The Meiji Six Society included in its ranks important sectarian leaders such as Ishikawa Shuntai 石川舜台 (1842–1931) and Shimaji Mokurai, the latter of whom established, with Ōuchi Seiran, the journal Hōshi sōdan 報四叢談, one of the first dedicated Buddhist periodicals of modern Japan. Seiran was also the editor of important publications such as the Kyōzon zasshi 共存雑誌 and the Meikyō shinshi 明教新誌, as well as an active performer of the enzetsu 演説 type of public lecture characteristic of the bunmei kaika era. The translation in part IV, chapter 1 is an example of one such speech by Seiran, in which he emphasizes, from the perspective of a Buddhist, the “spiritual” values of “Eastern Civilization” vis-à-vis its then overestimated “Western” counterpart. Another early form of social engagement was the establishment of schools. Building on both the early modern heritage of running temple schools and experiences with institutions of priest training, individual Buddhist clerics as well as sects started establishing general schools, as opposed to schools geared toward training the clergy, from as early as the 1870s.70 As in so many other instances in Meiji-period Buddhist history, the Christian challenge again looms large in the background: Christian missionaries in Japan had founded general purpose non-theological schools since the 1870s. Many of these were schools for instruction in English at first (such as Channing Moore Williams’s [1829–1910]

26

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English School in Osaka [1870] and Niijima Jō’s 新島襄 [1843–1890] Dōshisha English School in Kyoto [Dōshisha eigakkō 同志社英学校, 1875]), but the net was soon cast wider. Women’s education, perceived as lacking by Christian missionaries and converts, was targeted especially. Schools such as Meiji jogakkō 明治女学校 (1885) were set up with Protestant backing, albeit without Christian ceremonies on campus or even overtly Christian educational content. Given the experience of Buddhist institutions in the field of education, it did not take long before similar institutions with a Buddhist background appeared, such as in the field of women’s higher schools. An early example of the latter was Joshi bungei gakusha 女子文芸学舎, founded in 1888 by Shimaji Mokurai. The former Buddhist academies were gradually transformed into modern universities, many of which are still in existence today. Their role for training the future clergy diminished while an increasing majority of students enrolled in general degree programs. Another Jōdo Shinshū school, the Futsū kyōkō 普通教校, had opened in 1885 and would be, through new media in general, the breeding ground for several other influential Buddhist social reform organizations in the realms of temperance and outreach to society. Indeed, the proliferation of Buddhist journals—in the 1890s, over a hundred of them existed—points toward the trend of Buddhism interacting with society in this era. Created by Futsū kyōkō members, one of these journals, the Hanseikai zasshi 反省会雑誌 (see part IV, chapter 2), made temperance, but also a more general humanism, its goal. Avoiding alcohol was just one step toward moral improvement, this time not aimed at priests, but rather as a movement aimed at society broadly defined. The conceptual—and practical—jump from reforms of the clergy, to those of laypeople, and eventually those of society at large had to include a reconsideration of the role of women within Buddhism. In a time when universal education became the norm, a number of Buddhists felt the need to address the issue of (in)equality between the sexes, a phenomenon of which the 1888 text by Shimaji Mokurai included in this volume is a clear example (see part IV, chapter 3). Also intended as a critique of the idea that the type of equality between men and women observed in the West was a result of Christian values, Shimaji’s text asserted that for Buddhism (and Confucianism) true equality lay in accepting the different roles of both genders. The question of women was also addressed by Tanaka Chigaku, himself a lay follower of Nichiren Buddhism who developed his own organization after having broken



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with orthodoxy. Tanaka’s 1894 On Buddhist Marriage (part IV, chapter 4) not only argues for the marriage of clerics, but more broadly aimed at “correcting the image of Buddhism as unworldly, emphasizing its connectedness to life, society, and the modern state.” By the turn of the century, Buddhist social outreach had multiplied. In theoretical terms, Buddhist thinkers began to grapple seriously with the profound social change wrought by industrialization and with the major political schools already developed in reaction to this in Europe, such as social democracy or state socialism. The Western-educated Shinshū priest Chikazumi Jōkan 近角常観 (1870–1941) situated Buddhism within these trends in his 1904 text The Problem of Faith (part IV, chapter 5). He argued that the historical Buddha had been a social reformer, preaching the equality of people regardless of caste. Among the Buddhists of contemporary Japan, Chikazumi continued, social justice should not remain theoretical but translate into social activism, and he clearly enumerated “workers’ education, illness insurance, family assistance, and so on” as fields of action. Indeed, by the turn of the century, Buddhists had reached out to society in numerous ways. They had founded hospitals and other welfare institutions, employed prison chaplains, sent out military chaplains (see also part V, chapter 2), and engaged heavily in mission work in (mostly) other Asian countries, especially China and Korea. This was part of a more general turn toward Asia, as will be taken up in the next section.

Japan and Asia Since the Heian period (794–1185), people on the main islands of the Japanese archipelago understood the world as being constituted of three “nations” or “realms.” This cosmology is obviously connected to a narrative of how Buddhism reached Japan and can be traced back at least as far as to the works of Saichō (767–822). This idea was, for the inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago, an essential element in the ingraining of traditional Buddhist cosmology that placed Mt. Sumeru (Shumisen 須弥山) at the center of the universe. Humankind would reside on a continent located in the southern part of this mountain, of which Tenjiku 天竺 (which included, but was not necessarily limited to, the Indian subcontinent) occupied the center. Neighboring Tenjiku was Shintan 震旦 (that is, China) and far in the periphery, almost falling off the edge of the world, was the realm of Japan, or Honchō 本朝. The

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story of Buddhism, which had its origins in Tenjiku, spread through Shintan, and was then propagated into Honchō, was itself, in this sense, a narrative of global history. Although the arrival of the Portuguese in the sixteenth century— and consequently of modern European cartographic knowledge—did bring new developments to this cosmology, the essential narrative of Buddhist history remained. That is, far before the Western idea of “Asia” spread throughout Japan in the course of the Edo period, the story of how Buddhism came to the Japanese islands was already intrinsically connected to imagined versions of the continental mainland. The bakufu’s isolationist policy meant, however, that Buddhists in Japan were not allowed more than the imagining of India and China, save perhaps for sporadic contact with visitors from the continent in limited quarters of cities such as Nagasaki. With the “reopening” of the country in the 1850s, along with the easier access to transoceanic transportation, however, Buddhists could now experience the mainland themselves, without the textual filter imposed thus far. That is, besides the encounter with “religion” and a new sense of their role within society, Japan’s relationship with “Asia” was one of the issues that would (re)define the character of Buddhism in modern Japan. The first case of a Japanese Buddhist priest visiting China was that of Ogurusu Kōchō 小栗栖香頂 (1831–1905), who traveled not long after the ratification of the Sino-Japanese Amity Treaty in June 1873. However, contrary to the vigorous practice he might have expected, he found Chinese Buddhism to be decadent, a reality that prompted him to draft the text partially translated here (part V, chapter 1), meant to revive Chinese Buddhism on his terms. Calling for cooperation against the common Western enemy, On Protecting the Dharma in Beijing is an essential text that represents the transformation of a theretofore subservient relationship: Japan is no longer the student, but now the teacher, who can save the Chinese dharma from its downfall. This self-representation as the leader of East Asia was ideologically fundamental for the colonial enterprise, in which Buddhists were to play an important role. With the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War in 1894, Buddhist priests were sent to the continent in order to serve as chaplains, an activity they would continue to perform over the course of all Japan’s modern wars. Yamagata Genjō 山県玄浄 (1866–1903), whose The Iron Scepter is partly translated here (part V, chapter 2), was one such chaplain. A scholar-priest within the Shingon tradition, Yamagata recorded



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his accounts of the battlefield in diary form, which reveal cooperation with Chinese Buddhists in what he then regarded as “new Japanese territory.” A clearer picture of how Buddhist rhetoric was used in order to justify Japan’s colonial enterprise can be seen in Shaku Sōen’s 釈宗演 (1860–1919) “The Japanese People’s Spirit,” a talk given in Manchuria but two years after Japan’s 1910 annexation of Korea (see part V, chapter 3). The lecture, obviously aimed at a Japanese audience, presents Japanese superiority in racial overtones that would become all the more frequent over the course of the following decade, alongside discourses on the nation’s kokutai 国体. Yet, the Asian experience was also important in a doctrinal sense. The appropriation of European buddhological knowledge during the late nineteenth century helped to conclusively establish in Japan the idea that Chinese was not the “original” language of Buddhism, and that Śākyamuni’s “golden words” were to be found elsewhere. This led Rinzai priest Kawaguchi Ekai 河口慧海 (1866–1945) to leave Kobe in 1897 in search of these authentic texts, becoming the first Japanese to enter the “hermit nation” of Tibet in 1901. He recorded his impressions in A Travelogue in Tibet, partly translated in part V, chapter 4. A widely popular text at the time, it shows that, besides his will to garner the “sacred texts” of his tradition, Kawaguchi also saw Tibet as a somewhat inferior nation in terms of civilization, which could again be “illuminated” by the wisdom of his native Japan. The increasing contact with the Asian reality ultimately changed the way Japanese clergymen and laypeople alike understood their own selves as “Buddhists,” in terms not only of their role as leaders of an imagined Asian coalition, but also in the sense of refashioning “Buddhism” as the most essential Pan-Asian construct. *** Many of the chapters below actually concern several of the five dimensions that we have presented and which inform the structure of the book. Anxiety about the nation could fuel sectarian reform; social reform measures were taken up within the framework of the mission in mainland Asia; through educational efforts, the pursuit of new trends in science and philosophy were thought to contribute to sectarian reform. Moreover, the challenge posed by the encounter with the (Christian) West was a contributing factor in all of the instances discussed here, so it will be treated as present within and throughout the five chapters

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instead of dealing with it separately. We hope that the diversity of the challenges of modernity and of Japanese Buddhists’ answers to these challenges becomes palpable in the volume, thus leading to a better understanding of where Japanese Buddhism stands today and how it arrived there.

Notes 1.  This typology is examined in greater detail in Hans Martin Krämer, “Introduction to Section 3,” in Religious Dynamics under the Impact of Imperialism and Colonialism: A Sourcebook, ed. Björn Bentlage et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2017), 369–376, and Hans Martin Krämer, “The Transcultural Turn in the Study of ‘Religion,’ ” in Engaging Transculturality: Concepts, Key Terms, Case Studies, ed. Laila Abu-Er-Rub et al. (London: Routledge, 2018), 373–385. 2.  Even in 2011, one still finds in an authoritative handbook on esoteric Buddhism nine chapters on the Nara and Heian periods, twelve chapters on medieval Japanese Buddhism, and eight chapters on “Early Modern, Modern and Contemporary” Buddhism in Japan—only that four of those are on the Edo period and the other four on contemporary phenomena, thus skipping over the modern period entirely. See Charles D. Orzech, Henrik H. Sørensen, Richard K. Payne, eds., Esoteric Buddhism and the Tantras in East Asia (Handbook of Oriental Studies, vol. IV, 24) (Leiden: Brill, 2011). 3.  Hayashi Makoto 林淳, “Kindai bukkyō no jiki kubun” 近代仏教の時 期区分, Kikan Nihon shisōshi 季刊日本思想史 75 (2009): 3–13. 4.  See Orion Klautau, “Against the Ghosts of Recent Past: Meiji Scholarship and the Discourse on Edo-Period Buddhist Decadence,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 35, no. 2 (2008): 274–280. 5.  John Breen, “Ideologues, Bureaucrats and Priests: On ‘Shinto’ and ‘Buddhism’ in Early Meiji Japan,” in Shinto in History: Ways of the Kami, ed. Breen and Mark Teeuwen (Richmond: Curzon, 2000), 237. 6.  The variety of Tokugawa-era critiques and the implementation of the haibutsu kishaku policies are treated in some detail in the first two chapters of James E. Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan: Buddhism and Its Persecution (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 3–86. For an overview of the historiography on the movement, see Orion Klautau, “Nihon shūkyō shigaku ni okeru haibutsu kishaku no isō” 日本宗教史学における廃 仏毀釈の位相, in Kami to hotoke no bakumatsu ishin カミとホトケの幕末維新, ed. Iwata Mami 岩田真美 and Kirihara Kenshin 桐原健真 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2018), 51–73.



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7.  For an English-language overview of the topic, see Notto Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan: From Conflict to Dialogue, 1854–1899 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1987). 8.  “Shoshū Dōtoku Kaimei Kiyaku” 諸宗同徳会盟規約 (1869), in Tsuji Zennosuke 辻善之助, Nihon Bukkyōshi no kenkyū, zoku hen 日本仏教史之研 究・続編 (Tokyo: Kinkōdō, 1931), 839 (trans. in Klautau, “Against the Ghosts of Recent Past,” 277). 9.  Hayashi Makoto, “Shajiryō jōchirei [agechirei] no eikyō: ‘Keidai’ no Meiji ishin” 社寺領上知令の影響：「境内」の明治維新, in Kami to hotoke no bakumatsu ishin, ed. Iwata and Kirihara, 349–369. 10.  See Richard M. Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman: Clerical Marriage in Modern Japanese Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), 58–94. 11.  On the development and demise of the senkyōshi office, see Trent E. Maxey, The “Greatest Problem”: Religion and State Formation in Meiji Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2014), 18–54. 12.  Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015), 53. 13.  On the relationship of Buddhism and education in early Meiji Japan, see Tanigawa Yutaka (trans. Jon Morris), “No Separation, No Clashes: An Aspect of Buddhism and Education in the Meiji Period,” The Eastern Buddhist (New Series) 42, no. 1 (2011): 55–73, and ibid. (trans. Jessica Starling), “The Age of Teaching: Buddhism, the Proselytization of Citizens, the Cultivation of Monks, and the Education of Laypeople during the Formative Period of Modern Japan,” in Modern Buddhism in Japan, ed. Hayashi Makoto, Ōtani Eiichi, and Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, 2014), 85–110. 14.  For the classic study of the topic, see Yoshida Kyūichi 吉田久一, Nihon kindai bukkyōshi kenkyū 日本近代仏教史研究 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1959), 81–149. 15.  Helen Hardacre, Shinto: A History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017), 380–381. For a further analysis of the Pantheon Dispute and its repercussions in the context of modern religious and political history, see Yijiang Zhong, The Origin of Modern Shinto in Japan: The Vanquished Gods of Izumo (London: Bloomsbury, 2018), 185–199. 16.  Cf. Inoue Kowashi, “Kyōdōshoku haishi iken an” 教導職廃止意見 案, in Inoue Kowashi den: Shiryōhen dai ichi 井上毅伝：史料編第一, ed. Inoue Kowashi denki hensan iinkai 井上毅伝記篇纂委員会 (Tokyo: Kokugakuin Daigaku Toshokan, 1966), 386–393.

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17.  Council of State Notification n.19 (Dajōkan futatsu dai jūkyūgō 太 政官布達第十九号), August 11, 1884. See also Ikeda Eishun 池田英俊 (trans. Clark Chilson), “Teaching Assemblies and Lay Societies in the Formation of Modern Sectarian Buddhism,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 25, no. 1–2 (1998): 16–18. 18.  For a Japanese-language survey of Buddhist views of the Uchimura Incident, see Yamamoto Tetsuo 山本哲生, “ ‘Kyōiku to shūkyō no shōtotsu’ ronsō o meguru bukkyō gawa no taiō: Bukkyō kankei zasshi o chūshin ni” 「教 育と宗教の衝突」論争をめぐる仏教側の対応：仏教関係雑誌を中心に, Kyōikugaku zasshi 教育学雑誌 11 (1977): 12–24. 19.  Maxey, The “Greatest Problem,” 209–234. 20.  Jolyon B. Thomas, Faking Liberties: Religious Freedom in American-Occupied Japan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019), 49–73. 21.  Cf. Sakamoto Koremaru, “The Structure of State Shinto: Its Creation, Development and Demise,” in Shinto in History, ed. Breen and Teeuwen (London: Routledge, 2001), 272–294. 22.  Kathleen M. Staggs, “In Defense of Japanese Buddhism: Essays from the Meiji Period by Inoue Enryō and Murakami Senshō,” PhD diss., Princeton University, 1979. 23.  Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan. 24.  Peter Kleinen, Im Tode ein Buddha: Buddhistisch-nationale Identitätsbildung in Japan am Beispiel der Traktate Gesshōs (Münster: LIT, 2002). 25.  Peter Kleinen, Nichiren-Shugi: Zum Verhältnis von Nichiren-Buddhismus und japanischem Nationalismus am Beispiel von Tanaka Chigaku (1861–1939) (Tokyo: Deutsches Institut für Japanstudien, 1994). 26.  Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai. 27.  Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan. 28.  Monika Schrimpf, Zur Begegnung des japanischen Buddhismus mit dem Christentum in der Meiji-Zeit (1868–1912) (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2000). 29.  Michel Mohr, Buddhism, Unitarianism, and the Meiji Competition for Universality (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2014). 30.  Andrew Bernstein, Modern Passings: Death Rites, Politics, and Social Change in Imperial Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2006). 31.  Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman. 32.  Judith Snodgrass, Presenting Japanese Buddhism to the West: Orientalism, Occidentalism, and the Columbian Exposition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003). 33.  John Sheldon Harding, Mahayana Phoenix: Japan’s Buddhists at the 1893 World Parliament of Religions (Bern: Peter Lang, 2008).



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34.  Frédéric Girard, Émile Guimet: Dialogues avec les religieux japonais (Suilly-la-Tour: Findakly, 2012). 35.  Galen Amstutz, Interpreting Amida: History and Orientalism in the Study of Pure Land Buddhism (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997). 36.  G. Clinton Godart, Darwin, Dharma, and the Divine: Evolutionary Theory and Religion in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2017). 37.  Melissa Anne-Marie Curley, Pure Land, Real World: Modern Buddhism, Japanese Leftists, and the Utopian Imagination (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2017). 38.  James Mark Shields, Against Harmony: Progressive and Radical Buddhism in Modern Japan (New York: Oxford University Press, 2017). 39.  Micah L. Auerback, “Japanese Buddhism in an Age of Empire: Mission and Reform in Colonial Korea, 1877–1931,” PhD diss., Princeton University, 2007. 40.  Hwansoo Ilmee Kim, Empire of the Dharma: Korean and Japanese Buddhism, 1877–1912 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Asia Center, 2012). 41.  Richard M. Jaffe, Seeking Śākyamuni: South Asia in the Formation of Modern Japanese Buddhism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2019). 42.  Jason Ānanda Josephson, The Invention of Religion in Japan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012). 43.  Maxey, The “Greatest Problem.” 44.  Isomae Jun’ichi, Religious Discourse in Modern Japan: Religion, State, and Shintō, trans. Galen Amstutz and Lynne E. Riggs (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2014). 45.  “Tōsho boshū” 投書募集, Bukkyō 仏教 97 (December 1894): inside cover. 46.  Ōuchi Seiran 大内青巒, “Meiji bukkyō shiwa” 明治仏教史話, Shin bukkyō 新仏教 5, no. 2 (February 1904): 129–134. 47.  Cf. Yoshida Kyūichi, Nihon kindai bukkyōshi kenkyū; Kashiwahara Yūsen 柏原祐泉, Nihon kinsei kindai bukkyōshi no kenkyū 日本近世近代仏教史 の研究 (Kyoto: Heirakuji Shoten, 1969); Ikeda Eishun 池田英俊, Meiji no shin bukkyō undo 明治の新仏教運動 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1976). The same authors have also published versions of their works aimed at a more general public. 48.  Okada Masahiko 岡田正彦, Wasurerareta bukkyō tenmongaku: Jūkyū seiki no Nihon ni okeru bukkyō sekaizō 忘れられた仏教天文学：十九世紀の日 本における仏教世界像 (Nagoya: V2 Solution, 2010). 49.  Fukushima Eiju 福島栄寿, Shisōshi to shite no “Seishin-shugi” 思想史と しての「精神主義」 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2003).

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50.  Moriya Tomoe 守屋友江, Amerika bukkyō no tanjō: Nijū seiki shotō ni okeru nikkei shūkyō no bunka hen’yō アメリカ仏教の誕生：二〇世紀初頭にお ける日系宗教の文化変容 (Tokyo: Gendai Shiryō Shuppan, 2001). 51.  Ōtani Eiichi 大谷栄一, Kindai Nihon no Nichiren shugi undō 近代日本 の日蓮主義運動 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2001). 52.  Haga Shōji 羽賀祥二, Meiji ishin to shūkyō 明治維新と宗教 (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 1994). 53.  Yamaguchi Teruomi 山口輝臣, Meiji kokka to shūkyō 明治国家と宗教 (Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1999). 54.  Isomae Jun’ichi 磯前順一, Kindai Nihon no shūkyō gensetsu to sono keifu 近代日本の宗教言説とその系譜 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2003). 55.  Shimazono Susumu 島薗進 and Tsuruoka Yoshio 鶴岡賀雄, eds., “Shūkyō” saikō 〈宗教〉再考 (Tokyo: Perikansha, 2004). 56.  See, for instance, Chen Jidong 陳継東, Shinmatsu bukkyō no kenkyū: Yang Wenhui o chūshin to shite 清末仏教の研究：楊文会を中心として (Tokyo: Sankibō Busshorin, 2003) and Ogurusu Kōchō no shinmatsu Chūgoku taiken: Kindai nitchū bukkyō kōryū no kaitan 小栗栖香頂の清末中国体験：近代日中仏教 交流の開端 (Tokyo: Sankibō Busshorin, 2016); Kiba Akeshi 木場明志 and Cheng Shuwei 程舒偉, eds., Shokuminchi ki Manshū no shūkyō 植民地期満洲の 宗教 (Tokyo: Kashiwa Shobō, 2007); Niino Kazunobu 新野和暢, Kōdō bukkyō to tairiku fukyō 皇道仏教と大陸布教 (Tokyo: Shakai Hyōronsha, 2014); Erik Schicketanz, Daraku to fukkō no kindai Chūgoku bukkyō: Nihon bukkyō to no kaiko to sono rekishizō no kōchiku 堕落と復興の近代中国仏教：日本仏教との邂逅と その歴史像の構築 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2016); Je Jum-Suk 諸点淑, Shokuminchi kindai to iu keiken: Shokuminchi Chōsen to Nihon kindai bukkyō 植民地近代という 経験：植民地朝鮮と日本近代仏教 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2018), among others. 57.  Hayashi Makoto 林淳, “Kindai bukkyō to kokka shintō: Kenkyūshi no sobyō to mondaiten no seiri” 近代仏教と国家神道：研究史の素描と問 題点の整理, Zen kenkyūjo kiyō 禅研究所紀要 34 (2006): 85–103; and ibid., “Kindai bukkyō no jiki kubun.” 58.  See Tanigawa Yutaka 谷川穣, Meiji zenki no kyōiku, kyōka, bukkyō 明治 前期の教育・教化・仏教 (Kyoto: Shibunkaku, 2008); and Shigeta Shinji 繁田真爾, “Aku” to tōchi no Nihon kindai: Dōtoku, shūkyō, kangoku kyōkai 「悪」と 統治の日本近代：道徳・宗教・監獄教誨 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2019). 59.  See Hoshino Seiji 星野靖二, Kindai Nihon no shūkyō gainen: Shūkyōsha no kotoba to kindai 近代日本の宗教概念：宗教者の言葉と近代 (Tokyo: Yūshisha, 2012); and Ōmi Toshihiro 碧海寿広, Butsuzō to Nihonjin: Shūkyō to bi no kingendai 仏像と日本人：宗教と美の近現代 (Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Shinsha, 2018).



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60.  Ōsawa Kōji 大澤広嗣, Senjika no Nihon bukkyō to nanpō chiiki 戦時下 の日本仏教と南方地域 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2015). 61.  See Kondō Shuntarō 近藤俊太郎, “Sengo Shinranron e no dōtei: Marukusu-shugi to iu keiken o chūshin ni” 戦後親鸞論への道程：マルクス 主義という経験を中心に, Ryūkoku daigaku bukkyō bunka kenkyūjo kiyō 龍谷 大学仏教文化研究所紀要 52 (2013): 99–159; and ibid., “Kindai Nihon ni okeru marukusu-shugi to bukkyō: Hanshūkyō undō o megutte” 近代日本に おけるマルクス主義と仏教：反宗教運動をめぐって (parts one and two), Bukkyōshi kenkyū 佛教史研究 53 (2015): 53–86, and 54 (2016): 55–80. 62.  Iwata Mami 岩田真美 and Nakanishi Naoki 中西直樹, eds., Bukkyō fujin zasshi no sōkan 仏教婦人雑誌の創刊 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2019). 63.  On these pre-Meiji anti-Buddhist policies, see Tamamuro Fumio 圭 室文雄, Shinbutsu bunri 神仏分離 (Tokyo: Kyōikusha, 1977). 64.  See Murakami Mamoru 村上護, Shimaji Mokurai den: Ken o taishita itan no hijiri 島地黙雷伝：剣を帯した異端の聖 (Kyoto: Minerva Shobō, 2011), 130–132. 65.  Sueki Fumihiko 末木文美士, “Bukkyōshi o koete” 仏教史を超えて, in Kindai Nihon no shisō, saikō 近代日本の思想・再考, vol. 2: Kindai Nihon to bukkyō 近代日本と仏教 (Tokyo: Toransubyū, 2004), 175 (chapter originally published in 2000). 66.  See, for instance, the abovementioned work by Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai, esp. pp. 88–113. For an overview of Christian missionary strategies in Japan, see Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan, 37–77. 67.  On the chronology, see Micah Auerback, A Storied Sage: Canon and Creation in the Making of a Japanese Buddha (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2016), 180–182. 68.  Donald S. Lopez Jr., Buddhism & Science: A Guide for the Perplexed (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008). 69.  See Greg Wilkinson, “Taishō Canon: Devotion, Scholarship, and Nationalism in the Creation of the Modern Buddhist Canon in Japan,” in Spreading Buddha’s Word in East Asia: The Formation and Transformation of the Chinese Buddhist Canon, ed. Jiang Wu and Lucille Chia (New York: Columbia University Press, 2016), 284–310. 70.  See, for instance, the abovementioned work by Tanigawa Yutaka, Meiji zenki no kyōiku, kyōka, bukkyō, especially chapter 5, “Sōryo yōsei gakkō to zokujin kyōiku” 僧侶養成学校と俗人教育, 221–259.

chapter 1

Questions and Answers from Beneath a Snowy Window (1876) Fukuda Gyōkai Translated by Micah Auerback

Translator’s Introduction Although one of the most celebrated and influential Buddhist clerics of the early Meiji years, Fukuda Gyōkai 福田行誡 (1809–1888) was in some senses distinctly unrepresentative of broader tendencies in Meiji Buddhism. While most prominent clerics and many of their institutions shifted their allegiance and sought to receive protection and patronage from the new national government, Gyōkai instead urged Buddhist clerics to govern themselves in a spirit of autonomy and critical self-reflection. The present translation, excerpted from a work that Gyōkai composed in 1876, exemplifies his singular response to the challenges facing Buddhism in a new era. A short discussion of the disestablishment of Japanese Buddhism, and of Gyōkai’s personal history, will aid readers’ comprehension of these excerpts. The Meiji Restoration of 1868 disestablished Japan’s Buddhist institutions. First, it closed down existing avenues of support: the shogun and the various great lords or daimyo—who, with exceptions, had for centuries patronized various Buddhist institutions—rapidly lost their political and economic standing. Nor did the new prominence of the emperor, to whom power had been theoretically “restored,” prove an adequate replacement. Instead, the new government abolished centuries-old Buddhist rituals in the Imperial palace, divested the palace of Buddhist images and implements, and compelled the laicization of the members of the Imperial family who had taken the tonsure. It put an

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end to all further official patronage of Buddhist institutions, and canceled the required temple affiliations by common people. In 1872, the new government further abrogated the traditional prerogative of monitoring and enforcing monastic discipline by instructing monks (and later, nuns) that they would now be officially “free” to eat meat, to marry, to let their hair grow, and to dress like laypersons. To be sure, Buddhist monastics had suffered compulsory laicization in earlier, continental persecutions of Buddhism: in China as early as the Northern Wei dynasty (386–584), and in Korea as early as the first decades of the Chosǒn (1392–1910). Even Gyōkai observed parallels between the great Chinese persecutions of Buddhism and the designs of the Meiji state. In the case of Japan, however, the state as such did not attempt to disrobe all the Buddhist clergy; it simply withdrew the supervision of monks from its purview.1 This unilateral annulment of a long-standing reciprocal relationship between the ruler and the Buddhist community is reminiscent of the gradual disestablishment of the saṅgha by British colonial rulers in Ceylon after 1815, or in Burma after 1886.2 Indeed, in its relations with Buddhist institutions, the early Meiji regime acted not unlike a hostile colonizing power. The sobriquet “Gyōkai” means “one who practices the precepts,” and its selection suggests just how central the practice of monastic precepts was to Gyōkai throughout his maturity. Even in his twenties, Gyōkai was already recognized as an outstanding scholar, and he lectured on texts related to the monastic precepts into his thirties. Although formally affiliated with—and briefly the head (kanchō 管長) of—the Pure Land denomination of Japanese Buddhism (Jōdoshū 浄土宗), Gyōkai was unusually interested in the totality of received Buddhist traditions in Japan. In this sense, he carried on the traditions of his (nominally) Pure Land predecessor Fujaku 普寂 (1707–1781), and of the Shingon vinaya master Jiun Onkō 慈雲飲光 (1718–1804).3 In the 1880s, shortly before his death, Gyōkai was also instrumental in inspiring and supporting the republication of a biography of the Buddha by a disciple of Jiun, the nun Kōgetsu Sōgi 皓月宗顗 (1756–1833).4 While written using Japanese grammar, Questions and Answers from Beneath a Snowy Window (Sessō tōmon 雪窓答問) owes a great deal to classical Chinese prose for its use of parallelism, stock language, and exaggeration for rhetorical value. We should, for instance, not take at face value the assertion that all laypeople actually were eating meat by 1876. At that time in Japan, the open and public consumption of such large



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animals as cows, sheep, and pigs had only just become possible. Gyōkai’s admonition that Buddhist clerics were originally unconcerned with the life of the laity also seems ill-suited to describe the realities of Japan, where Buddhist institutions had been a continuous part of urban life for well over a millennium. Also problematic is Gyōkai’s insistence that the Meiji government’s 1872 order was actually intended to set free persons unsuited to the monastic life. Whether from optimism or mere expediency, Gyōkai’s argument implicitly frames the Meiji government as a benefactor to the Buddhist institutional life of Japan. The text is written as a dialogue between Gyōkai and an unnamed disciple. Recorded by a third disciple, it begins with a quotation from the unnamed figure. These excerpts may be profitably read in conjunction with existing scholarship about Gyōkai in English.5

Translation [. . .] At this point, I changed the topic and further asked: “From what I hear these days in the secular world (tōsezoku 当世俗), in debating any matter and discussing any thing, there are two types of explanation: one being to debate that thing according to morality (dōtoku 道徳), the second being to decide it based on politics (seiji 政治). What you have just said is all moral debate, and naturally, people who seek morality will be unable to find fault with the principle of being like this, but what I am speaking of is a debate in political terms. That is to say, there is official permission for doing as one likes in growing hair, eating meat, and keeping a wife. Now, at a time of revolution in heaven and on earth, the royal government is not the royal government of old, but is [now only one more] among those of the countries in the five continents; Buddhist temples are not Buddhist temples of old, but instead rank among the houses of laypeople; and monks are not the monks of old, but rank among the laity. “Among that laity, there are none who fail to keep wives and grow their hair; among the houses of laypeople, there is none that does not broil, braise, and roast cows, sheep, chicken, and pigs; they claim that to rest alone in hard bedding and that for cow and sheep not to pass through one’s lips, is essentially a betrayal of human nature. This [eating of meat] has long been restrained and suppressed by the teachings of the Buddha, and only barbarous and stubborn people happened to obey this injunction. But now, the lenient measures of the Restoration

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have loosened this restraint and shattered this suppression, allowing our kind to range freely in the realm of truth. The sacred wisdom of our emperor has illuminated this darkness; cranes dance, sparrows flit about, and everyone jumps for joy. While in all great nations there have been emperors for three thousand years, not one has been unrestrained by the institutions of the Buddha; how could our sacred Emperor not be the only one to be sagely and indomitable? Therefore, we ought to be called loyal subjects of the state because of our obedience to the Imperial edict. What do you, master, make of such ideas?” [Gyōkai] responded, saying, “How fortunate that you lot are smart enough to clarify the orientation of our responsibility! Compared with people who are unclear and befuddled about this matter, you must be thirty miles ahead. You nearly put me to shame. But I have my own way of justifying myself. So calm your feelings and focus your mind, and listen closely to what I say. You lot have just reproached me through the two challenges of politics and morality. First, I shall discuss and explain the general outline in political terms. That is to say, in establishing government within a country, there are general principles and there are minutiae. In general, at the time of the Restoration, matters beginning with the decisive judgment to abolish the domains and to replace them with prefectures, and continuing to the establishment of Ministries of the Army and Navy, and to the creation of Ministries of Education, Doctrine, and so on, should be deemed the general principles of the state.6 Within each of these are hundreds and thousands of rules and orders, which together are called minutiae. Thus, the general principles are weighty and are not altered arbitrarily, while the minutiae are less important; they are abolished or established, adopted or discarded, in keeping with the times. In these matters, what was right yesterday is wrong today, and what today is wrong will tomorrow be right. When ministers apply their ideas in politics, it is hazardous and bitter; looking up, they must reflect [the will of the Emperor]; looking down, they must observe [the situation of the people]. “As I see it, such institutions as the Ministry of Doctrine are the general principles of government by the Emperor: That is to say, the Ministry uses the teaching of the gods to uphold Shinto, and the teaching of the buddhas to uphold Buddhism; unless both teachings are firm, the National Teaching will waver. How could the principles of the teachings be confused and fractured? They must grow without distortion; they must be straight and not bent; and if in fact they are bent, fractured,



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and confused, then both general principles and minutiae will lose their validity. The general principles must be strictly kept and carefully guarded; neglect of the main things in religion (kyōhō 教法) is the seed at the root of the abandonment of a teaching, preventing the state from insuring its safety.7 However, such matters as the official order concerning eating meat, taking wives, and growing one’s hair belong to the minutiae among the hundreds and thousands of orders, and should not be ranked among the great principles of the Ministry of Doctrine. And then, within the order is the word ‘free,’ not the word ‘required,’ which means that people who do not enact this freedom do not inevitably need to uphold this order; therefore, even if this order is disobeyed, no one will have committed a crime. However, to be ignorant that this order has emerged from inevitable necessity, and instead to think that once the order was issued, it was like the bestowal of a wish-granting gem, or to rejoice as if one has seen an udumbara flower, or to jump for joy and dare publicly to eat meat, grow hair, or take a wife, and not to regard that as a disgrace among monks—I do not know whether to call that person [merely] useless to the saṅgha, or a corpse in the ocean of dharma.8 “But you lot might doubt me and say, ‘scolding someone who obeys an official order resembles slander of the order itself.’ To this I reply: Do you lot understand the intention that gave rise to this order? Since the order was first issued, various people have made their own private evaluations of it. Let me show what they have written: Party A says, ‘The former government enforced the monastic rules, and that government went to extreme trouble to do so, but in general, the monastic rules are not a matter for politicians, so it is best that they have issued the order [that permits monks to do] as they like, and thus that they have saved themselves the wasted effort.’ [Party A thinks that] this is likely the purpose for this order. Party B says, ‘The purpose is to select those who do not follow the order [that permits monks to do] as they like, so that one can employ them in the teaching.’ Party C says, ‘The purpose is to please the monks with this new order and to have them praise the virtues of the [new] government.’ Party D says, ‘Eating meat and taking wives are unavoidable parts of human nature, and to limit them forcibly is an excessive restriction. Therefore, the order loosens this restraint and fulfills the policy [of the emperor’s] universal benevolence toward all.’ Party E says, ‘The Way depends on people to disseminate it, and as humans are humans, they might eventually come to the extreme of

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burning each other’s books,’ etc. How utterly astonishing! They are just groping in the dark, making explanations in such small pieces. As I see it, Party A’s explanation is close to debauchery, and Party B’s explanation appears to discard people. Party C’s explanation resembles a sellout of virtue, Party D’s explanation throws out the baby with the bathwater, and Party E’s explanation attempts to abolish [the Buddhist Way] out of spite. [But] in general, to evaluate [our] uniformly sage administration by opportunities for fame, profit, laziness, or envy, would appear to miss the mark. “Having mused on this issue from early on, I have chanced to come across an explanation. Let me try to elucidate it to you. The present day is a time in which sagely ministers, specially selected by our wise emperor, jostle day and night. As for monks, although they may not be considered as such, they are, indeed, still subjects of the Imperial Land. Therefore, how could there be an order that pointlessly harms their chastity and forces them to defile their conduct? However, the existence of this order is [something] unheard-of in previous ages, from antiquity to the present. In general, as the emperors and kings of bygone days were all fond of the solemnity of Buddhist institutions, they extended them to the gentry and the commoners. There is absolutely no principle by which the present holy Emperor could be said to enjoy cutting down the conduct of the monks alone. In the past, when I read through the Sūtra of the Heap of Jewels (Hōshaku kyō 宝積経), I saw that at the end of its eightyeighth chapter, ‘Mahākāśyapa,’ it says that five hundred bhikṣus returned to lay life because they feared that they could no longer consume offerings. Mañjuśrī praises this and preaches that they have acted in accordance with the dharma.9 Also, according to the one hundred and thirteenth chapter of the same scripture, [titled] the ‘Caṇḍālā Monk,’ five hundred bhikṣus said that, as they could not endure their practice, they wished to abandon their precepts and return to lay life.10 The Buddha said to them, ‘For you to return to lay life and not to accept alms is called “following the dharma.” ’ That is, if one returns to lay life on account of being unable to uphold the precepts, then one does not again accept alms, and this is a dharma in accordance with the Path, so it is explained that ‘this is called “following the dharma.” ’ To return to lay life means to go back to one’s former home, and to grow one’s hair, and to eat meat, and to take a wife. Thus, if we contemplate this, then we must understand that the present official order means only that all those who wish to return to lay life may do so freely. It is by no means



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commanding those within the monastic community to eat meat and take wives. “That is to say, when those who would be monks first leave their homes and shave their hair, they follow in the sacred footsteps of [the Buddha Śākyamuni, who renounced lay life and ascended] Mt. Daṇḍaloka; when they restrict their consumption of meat, they obey the restriction of the Laṅkāvatāra Assembly, and manifest the form of the great compassion of the bodhisattva.11 This is called the way of being in the monastic assembly. The thirty-first chapter of the Great Treatise on the Perfection of Wisdom (Daichidoron 大智度論) says, ‘[Monastics] make the maintenance of the precepts their [inner] nature, and shaving their hair and wearing dyed robes their [outward] appearance.’12 But it must be understood that the present official order is completely clear in its significance, and requires no debate, in wholly manifesting the outward aspect of returning to lay life. That is, we know that something with horns is a deer; we know that something with a mane is a horse; we know that someone with shaved head and dyed robes is a monk; we know that someone who eats meat and keeps a wife is a layman. There are no horses that have horns, or deer with manes; there are no laymen who shave their heads and wear dyed robes, and there are no monks who eat meat and take wives. To point to a man who grows his hair, eats meat, and takes a wife and to say that he is a monk, is no different from pointing to a horse and saying that it is a deer. “Now, in the sacred age of enlightenment, above, there is no more deceit by Zhao Gao; below, there is no sorrow at the burning of books.13 Public deliberation is [as bright] as the sun; how could such things as governmental orders be seen with any ambiguity? It is at last understood: The [reference to] returning to lay life in the Sūtra of the Heap of Jewels accords perfectly with the present order regarding eating meat and taking wives; those who are incapable [of obeying the precept] are not unreasonably bound. Mañjuśrī praised [returning to lay life] and permitted it as in accordance with the dharma; the Buddha indicated it and preached that it is following the dharma. In antiquity or the present, there is no difference in the channels taken by sagely rule; both the former and later emperors may be said to employ the same methods. That is, the government forbids men to dress as women, or women to dress as men. This is because arrogance throws customs into disorder and destroys propriety.14 For one to say that he will obey the official order, and then as a monk to display the appearance of a layman, is no

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different from men and women wearing the wrong clothing. If it is wrong for them, then it cannot be right for us; if it is right for us, then it cannot be wrong for them. This is my explanation. If you lot speak ill of me and accuse me of gilding the lily, then what more would there be for me to say? I have completed my explanation of your challenge in political terms. [. . .] “Next, when it comes to the challenge concerning the performance of funerary rites for a living [. . .]. This is a minor detail, not worth discussing, but it is not the true intention of a teacher to waste such kindly accusatory questions, so I will add a brief explanation. You lot should calm your minds and listen attentively. In the first of four parts of the final book of the Guide to the Practice of the Four-Part Vinaya (Shibunritsu gyōjishō 四分律行事抄), there is a chapter on funerals and mourning. The text says, ‘The rituals of the saṅgha and the dharma are far removed from the lay world; final send-offs and fancy burials are matters that derive from common custom,’ etc.15 It also adduces text in which the bhikṣus scattered incense and flowers upon the corpse of Maudgalyāyana, but these all refer to final send-offs within the monastic community.16 In the precepts, there is [recorded] absolutely no method for the burial and funerary rites of a layman. In all the teachings during the first generation of Buddhism, there is absolutely no exposition of a mode of burial or rites (for now, I shall leave aside the matter of making merit for the dead, which has been discussed separately). Therefore, it should be understood that the teachings of our Buddha, from antiquity to the present, ought not to have any connection to the funerals of [regular] persons.17 Ultimately, the manifestation of the Eight Phases of the Buddha, the World-Honored One, was for the sake of turning the delusions of living persons into awakening; thus, for fifty years, he turned the wheel of the dharma for the sake of our kind, who are not dead.18 Therefore, even though the Buddha knew that the two wizards Ārāḍa and Kālāma had died the night before he attained the Way, we can find no account of his conducting merit making for their sake.19 “In the first place, monks originally resided in mountains and dwelt in valleys, staying away from laypeople as a matter of course; they certainly did not conduct funeral rites for laypersons. Except for their parents, the previous regulation held for monks not to have any rites for final send-offs. Only in later years, in China and in other lands, did it become common to invite monks and have them chant sutras to make



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merit, or to pray for the deliverance of the spirits [of the dead]. From the particular depth of reverence in our Imperial Land, there are many precedents for both the highborn and the lowborn to practice meritmaking. The Literary Essence of Our Land (Honchō monzui 本朝文粋) includes many of those texts.20 The [practice of] making merit on the anniversary of a death date seems to be based upon the ‘Original Chronicle of the Category of Propriety,’ but when it comes to the matter of employing it or not, originally this was not something with which monks had a connection.21 That monks became entirely linked to funerary rites for laypeople was in order to eliminate [the Catholic converts’] evil customs and to forestall their wicked ways, thus correcting the evil of the [Catholic] foreign teaching in the eras of Keichō (1596–1615) and Genna (1615–1624).22 “This had never been the normal ambition of monks, but in the several centuries since, because that practice has become a custom, it is now almost the entirety of the office of a monk. It further developed into something like their regular occupation, and changed again, so that one can now call it their very livelihood. Eventually, monks forgot to await their own deaths, but began to wait for the deaths of their parishioners; they forgot to practice merit themselves, and instead made [others] think of making merit for the dead. Their situation has come to resemble precisely the disgraceful conduct of the man of [the state of] Qi, who went to the sacrificial offerings among the tombs in the east of the [capital] fortress, and begged for their leftovers.23 How could the times have changed so drastically, and [monks] have reached this nadir, heedless of their own shame?” [. . .] Gyōkai

Notes This translation is based on Fukuda Gyōkai, ed., “Sessō tōmon” 雪窓答問, in Meiji shūkyō bungakushū 明治宗教文学集 (1), vol. 87 of Meiji bungaku zenshū 明治文学全集, ed. Yoshida Kyūichi 吉田久一 (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobō, 1968), 9–12. 1.  The new government did order the “clarification” of religious sites that venerated both Buddhist and Shinto deities. In cases of the “Shintoization” of many celebrated religious centers, monks either were forced to laicize, or to take up new positions as shrine priests in the Shinto style.

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Concerning one example of this phenomenon in English, see Sarah Thal, Rearranging the Landscape of the Gods: The Politics of a Pilgrimage Site in Japan, 1573–1912 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005). In Japanese, see chapter 5 of Yasumaru Yoshio 安丸良夫, Kamigami no Meiji ishin: Shinbutsu bunri to haibutsu kishaku 神々の明治維新:神仏分離と廃仏毀釈 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1979). 2.  For a capsule discussion of the disestablishment of the sangha in colonial Ceylon, see Richard F. Gombrich, Theravāda Buddhism: A Social History from Ancient Benares to Modern Colombo (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1988), 174–177. For a discussion of the British authorities’ refusal to fulfill the role of royal patrons of the sangha in colonial Burma, see Bruce Matthews, “The Legacy of Tradition and Authority: Buddhism and the Nation in Myanmar,” in Buddhism and Politics in Twentieth-Century Asia, ed. Ian Harris (London: Pinter, 1999), 27–33. 3.  For a scholarly treatment of Fujaku, see Nishimura Ryō 西村玲, Kinsei bukkyō shisō no dokusō: Sōryo Fujaku no shisō to jissen 近世仏教思想の独創: 僧侶普寂の思想と実践 (Tokyo: Toransubyū, 2008). Concerning Jiun in English, see Paul Brooks Watt, “Jiun Sonja (1718–1804): Life and Thought,” PhD diss., Columbia University, 1982. 4.  See the discussion in Kinami Takuichi 木南卓一, ed., Miyo no hikari: Shakuson den 三世乃光:釈尊伝 (Osaka: Kinami Takuichi, 1980), 367–368. 5.  See the discussion of Questions and Answers in chapter 6 of Richard Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman: Clerical Marriage in Modern Japanese Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2001), as well as the discussion of Gyōkai in Kathleen Staggs, “In Defense of Japanese Buddhism: Essays from the Meiji Period by Inoue Enryō and Murakami Senshō,” PhD diss., Prince­ ton University, 1979, 82–94. 6.  Gyōkai here refers first to the abolition of the domains and their replacement with prefectures, whose governors were chosen by the new central government, in the seventh month of 1871 (haihan chiken 廃藩置 県). Within days of that decree, the Ministry of Education (Monbushō 文部 省) was also established. The Ministries of the Army (Rikugunshō 陸軍省) and Navy (Kaigunshō 海軍省), as well as the Ministry of Doctrine (Kyōbushō 教部省) were established in 1872. Among these, only the Ministry of Education has survived uninterrupted, becoming in 2001 the Ministry of Education, Culture, Sports, Science, and Technology. Concerning the short-lived Ministry of Doctrine, see James Edward Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan: Buddhism and Its Persecution (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), especially chapter 3.



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7.  Kyōhō is one of a number of terms used in the early Meiji years to translate the English word “religion” and its cognates in other European languages. It was eventually superseded by shūkyō 宗教. 8.  The “wish-granting gem” is a cintāmaṇi (J. nyoiju 如意珠); the udumbara (J. udonge 優曇華) is a flower “said to bloom only once every one thousand or three thousand years. Because it blossoms so infrequently, Buddhist texts often use the udumbara in similes to indicate something exceedingly rare.” Robert E. Buswell Jr. and Donald S. Lopez Jr., eds., The Princeton Dictionary of Buddhism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2014), 934. 9.  The Chinese text of the passage to which Gyōkai refers may be found in T 310:507a. 10.  The Chinese text of the passage to which Gyōkai refers may be found in T 310:643a. A caṇḍālā is a member of the so-called untouchable population in Brahmanical India. 11.  The replacement of the site of the renunciation and austerities of the Buddha-to-be in Mt. Daṇḍaloka (J. Dandokusen 檀特山), instead of a forest, is an innovation of the Chinese Buddhist tradition. This change derives from a Chinese conflation of accounts of the life of Prince Siddhartha (the Buddha-to-be) with accounts of his former existence as Prince Sudāna. While South Asian sources typically send the renunciant Siddhartha to a forest and Sudāna to Mt. Daṇḍaloka, the Chinese Buddhist tradition applied Sudāna’s mountain site of exile to Siddhartha as well. On this point, see Kurobe Michiyoshi 黒部通善, Nihon butsuden bungaku no kenkyū 日本仏 伝文学の研究 (Ōsaka: Izumi Shoin, 1989), 18–24. 12.  The Chinese text of the passage to which Gyōkai refers may be found in T 1509:293b. The edition for which Gyōkai supplies the pagination remains to be determined. 13.  Zhao Gao 趙高 (d. 207 BCE) was a eunuch of ancient China who conspired, unsuccessfully, to usurp the throne after the death of the first emperor (Shihuangdi 始皇帝) of the short-lived Qin dynasty in 210 BCE. In 213 BCE, the first emperor reportedly ordered that almost all books held outside the Imperial library be burned, an infamous act considered by intellectuals of later dynasties to be emblematic of anti-Confucian tyranny. 14.  For a brief discussion of regulations newly forbidding cross-dressing in the Japan of the 1870s, see Gregory M. Pflugfelder, Cartographies of Desire: Male-Male Sexuality in Japanese Discourse, 1600–1950 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 151–154. 15.  The Chinese text of the passage to which Gyōkai refers may be found in T 1804:145a.

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16.  The Chinese text of the passage to which Gyōkai refers may be found in T 1804:145b. 17.  Unlike the characteristically Japanese (and historically late) clerical practice of funerals for laypersons, the practice of transferring merit to aid the dead seems to have been a part of Buddhism even in its South Asian form. With such a long and well-documented history, this practice would have been difficult for Gyōkai to decry. See John C. Holt, “Assisting the Dead by Venerating the Living: Merit Transfer in the Early Buddhist Tradition,” Numen 28, no. 1 (June 1981): 1–28. 18.  Here, “the Eight Phases” translates hassō 八相, a conventional designation for eight important events in the life of the historical Buddha, a phrase often used as shorthand to refer to the life as a whole. 19.  Gyōkai specifically refers to the “two wizards Ārāḍa and Kālāma” (Arara Karan ni sennin 阿羅々迦藍二仙人). Scriptural accounts of the life of the Buddha typically claim that after his renunciation, Siddhartha studied under, and quickly bested, an ascetic by the name of Ārāḍa Kālāma. However, the Sūtra of Past and Present Cause and Effect (Ch. Guoqu xianzai yinguo jing 過去現在因果経, T 189) is representative of a variant tradition in the scriptural canon of Chinese Buddhism, which separates the single Ārāḍa Kālāma into two different ascetics, Ārāḍa and Kālāma. Gyōkai has apparently followed this variant tradition here. 20.  Here, Gyōkai is referring to the Honchō monzui, a collection of poems in Chinese compiled by Fujiwara no Akihira 藤原明衡 (989–1066) around 1060, based on Chinese precedents. 21.  The Original Chronicle of the Category of Propriety (Reikō hongi 礼綱本 紀) is part of a collection of purportedly ancient sources, the Great Compendium of the Original Chronicle of Ancient Matters in Previous Generations (Sendai kuji hongi taiseikyō 先代旧事本紀大成経, seventy-two fascicles), which is in fact a forgery dating to the late seventeenth century. 22.  Gyōkai here refers to the “temple registration” (terauke 寺請) system, which developed and spread across Japan during the seventeenth century, and which compelled even lowly villagers to affiliate with Buddhist temples to secure certification to the effect that they were not Christians. 23.  Gyōkai here refers to a famous episode that concludes book 4 of the Mencius (Mengzi 孟子). For an English translation of this episode, see D. C. Lau, trans., Mencius (London: Penguin Books, 1970), 137.

chapter 2

On Religious Revolution (1889) Nakanishi Ushirō Translated by Hoshino Seiji

Translator’s Introduction In the context of early modern Japan (1600–1868), Buddhism, supported by the Tokugawa Shogunate, enjoyed a relatively stable position in society. At the beginning of the Meiji era, however, this position was lost. The new government attempted to distinguish between Shinto and Buddhism, relishing the former and, to an extent, persecuting the latter. At the same time, it was, thus, forced to seek a new position in society, Buddhism was also thrown into open competition with Christianity, which the Meiji government had reluctantly accepted. About a decade later, in the 1880s, Japanese Christians were already actively engaging in missionary work, which made the presence of their religion far more visible in society. Even more than before, countering Christianity became a critical issue among the Buddhist clergy as well as laypeople.1 At this point, the proselytization of the learned classes became a major concern for Christians and Buddhists alike, as both attempted to win intellectuals over to their sides. To address these issues, Buddhists felt they needed a new type of apologetics. In this context, the likes of Inoue Enryō 井上円了 (1858–1919), for instance, explained Buddhism through their knowledge of Western thought, popularizing, among contemporary apologists, the idea of Buddhism as a “philosophical religion.” It was precisely this type of Buddhist, interested in emphasizing their religion’s superiority vis-à-vis Christianity, that showed interest in the text translated below, authored by Nakanishi Ushirō 中西 牛郎 (1859–1930).2

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Nakanishi was born in 1859, as the first son of a scholar of Chinese classics who served the Kumamoto clan, in the southern island of Kyūshū. During his youth, he studied, besides the Chinese classics, also English and Christianity; according to some records, he even studied for some time at Dōshisha 同志社, one of the first Christian schools in Japan, which would later develop into the eponymous university. It was this knowledge of Christianity that would, eventually, distinguish Nakani­ shi from other Buddhist intellectuals of his time. During the mid-1880s, he taught in Kumamoto at a private school he established, while serving as editor and writer at the Shimeikai 紫溟会, a local nationalist society. He was also acquainted with important local priests, such as Yatsubuchi Banryū 八淵蟠竜 (1848–1926).3 In 1887, he finished the first draft of his On Religious Revolution (Shūkyō kakumeiron 宗教革命論), which was highly praised by Akamatsu Renjō 赤松連城 (1841–1919), then a central figure in the Honganji branch of Jōdo Shinshū. Akamatsu invited Nakanishi to Kyoto, and introduced him to Ōtani Kōson 大谷光尊 (1850–1903), the twenty-first Chief Abbot of Nishi Honganji. The denomination decided to support Nakanishi for a six-month study visit to the United States,4 and upon his return to Japan in 1890, offered him a position as assistant principal (kyōtō 教頭) at its school, the Bungakuryō 文学寮. During this period, Nakanishi contributed several articles to a number of Buddhist venues, in addition to publishing On Religious Revolution in 1889, as well as other books. Nakanishi’s writings were widely read among young Buddhist intellectuals of the time and had a significant impact on them. His argument for a “New Buddhism” (shin bukkyō 新仏教) was in many ways inherited by following generations of reformist movements in modern Japan.5 Nakanishi begins the argument of On Religious Revolution by explaining the essence of “religion.”6 Then, based on the understanding that both Buddhism and Christianity belong to this category, he juxtaposes the history of these two “religions” in the Japan of his time. His argument here was strongly influenced by evolutionary theory, as he observed that religions were, throughout the course of history, gradually evolving toward their ideal form.7 In this sense, he asserted that the sixteenthcentury Protestant Reformation should be seen as an important stage in the evolution of religion, and that contemporary Buddhism also needed to undergo a similar process. Therefore, in this work, Nakanishi makes a twofold claim: First, he insists on the supremacy of Buddhism over all other religions, especially Christianity, an argument he supports with



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the idea of the evolution of religion. Second, he strongly calls for reform—namely, he proposes the transformation of “Old Buddhism” into “New Buddhism.” While convinced that Buddhism had the potential to surpass other religions, Nakanishi also thought that Buddhism, in its current state, had not yet completely realized its full capability, and stressed that the two abovementioned goals—of proving Buddhism’s supremacy and then reforming it—must be pursued simultaneously. While Nakanishi argued that Buddhism should be transformed into a new form of Buddhism, a form that would be a manifestation of ideal “religion,” this latter concept was, in itself, a contemporary historical construct influenced by Protestant Christianity.8 Therefore, regardless of the author’s intention, Nakanishi’s arguments for Buddhist reform, explicitly or implicitly, end regarding as a model the very “religion” that he aims at criticizing, that is, Christianity. The text below is, in this sense, a fine example of this ambivalence in Buddhist reform arguments in modern Japan.

Translation Chapter 12 Old Buddhism Must Be Transformed into New Buddhism In the world of the nineteenth century, it is New Buddhism that grows quickly, spreads across numerous countries with astonishing progress, and could be the sole religion in the universe by surpassing monotheistic Christianity. In the Japan of the year 1889, it is Old Buddhism that never prospers, yields its own territory to the foreign religion [i.e., Christianity], and awaits its collapse while being more dead than alive and gradually losing power. Put succinctly, Old Buddhism is on the verge of decline while New Buddhism is rising. Yet I wonder why our nation’s Buddhism is still Old Buddhism and not New Buddhism. Alas, the Buddhism of our nation! Will you become declining or rising Buddhism? There will be no change with the former. If you choose the latter, Old Buddhism must be transformed into New Buddhism. Primarily, Buddhism is Buddhism—either New or Old. In that they are Buddhism, the two should differ not in the slightest. However, various evils that human weakness and social situations cause, such as stubbornness, narrow-mindedness, lust, corruption, ostentation, blind belief, and

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hypocrisy, adulterate the essence of Old Buddhism. In contrast, New Buddhism manifests the pure truth and genuine morality of Buddhism, not by adhering to its form, but by realizing its essence. If, therefore, the transformation of Old Buddhism into New Buddhism in Japan is to be achieved, it requires nothing short of a drastic revolution among people and society, which I will explain at another opportunity. Instead, I will conclude this book9 by humbly comparing Old Buddhism and New Buddhism and explaining their differences. First, New Buddhism is progressive (shinpoteki 進歩的) while Old Buddhism is conservative. If there were anything within the spirit of Buddhism that cannot match progress, I could not criticize the lack of progressiveness in our nation’s current Buddhism. However, is there anything within Buddhist principles or morals that is not progressive? Yet, if one observes contemporary Buddhism in our nation, one can neither find a single activity nor any progress, as if it were a fallen dead horse. Even a dead thing would move if stimulated by electricity; accordingly, society and its trends cannot avoid affecting Buddhism, for it is already situated in them. In particular, those two organizations, the Higashi and Nishi [Honganji],10 are bent on imitating all of our government’s actions. [. . .] Yet, why have those leaders not yet granted lay Buddhists the right to form a congregation, while our government has already provided its subjects with rights of political participation?11 Why have those leaders not yet reformed the old custom of hereditary priesthood while our government has already abolished the feudal custom of hereditary succession?12 Compare this to Christian churches. It is true that they are destined for self-destruction in the long run. However, even with their small number of adherents, which is less than three-tenths of all Buddhists in Japan, by sending dozens of missionaries abroad, publishing books, and establishing schools, are Christians not eager to maintain and propagate their religion? Currently, the number of Buddhist priests in Japan is enormous—about one hundred thousand—while there are only a few thousand foreign and Japanese Christian missionaries in Japan. However, Buddhist priests only fear losing their nominal followers, while Christian missionaries make every effort to obtain new believers, not only in the three capitals and five ports,13 but also in remote areas. The former cannot even examine their own traditional doctrines,14 while the latter study advanced knowledge and theories, adopt any ideas that are consistent with their teachings, and refute ideas that



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are inconsistent with their own. The former hesitate to act outside of religion (shūkyō 宗教) and do not have enough courage to use their influence in areas like politics, society, literature, education, or moral inspiration (kanka 感化), while the latter take the initiative in any actions that could improve society and propagate Christianity through such actions. Alas, what is the purpose of those one hundred thousand Buddhist priests? What will remain when tens of millions of lay Buddhists leave this world? Lay Buddhists are led by priests, priests by the head temple leaders, and those leaders by the chief abbot (hossu 法主). Thus, if the chief abbot takes action, the leaders must follow. If the leaders take action, priests must follow. If priests take action, lay Buddhists must follow. But what should be the basis for the chief abbot’s action? Self-interest, honor, or administrative necessity? It is faith (shinkō 信仰)15 that should be the basis for action. The word faith (shin 信), with its magnificent power, is itself enough to move the world.. Then where does this faith come from? It is the infinite love of Buddha (Budda mugen no ai 仏陀無限の愛) that could save all living creatures. Thus, if one does not believe in such love, one does not believe in Buddhism. If one already follows Buddhism, one does not fear sacrificing oneself through dedication. Thus, the progress of New Buddhism comes from such faith. There is no progress in Old Buddhism, for it does not follow such faith. Second, New Buddhism is open to the common people (heimin 平民),16 while Old Buddhism is aristocratic. There is no aristocracy in the eye of Buddhism. Thus, Śākyamuni criticized the Brahmin class in his time. When viewing the Buddhism of our nation, however, one wonders why so many phenomena are related to the aristocracy while so few are related to the common people. Those Buddhist priests have already established their own small world. Thus, while Buddhist scriptures are written in classical Chinese, which is difficult for common people to comprehend, no one has translated them into Japanese.17 Furthermore, while what they call Buddhist Studies (butsugaku 仏学) is too specialized, there is no institution that teaches it to common people. It parallels the days of the Roman Catholic Church’s exclusive use of the Latin Bible before the Reformation and their prohibition of common people from reading the Bible. Are these not aristocratic phenomena, again? The chief abbots of both Honganji sects should return their noble rank (kazoku ikai 華族位階) to the court. They should be proud of the everlasting crown instead of being satisfied with worldly wealth and prosperity. [. . .]. By this, one

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transforms aristocratic Buddhism into a Buddhism of the common people. One should have faith only in Buddha himself, not in grand buildings, solemn temples, or quiet mountains. One should spend for spiritual purposes rather than material ones, [. . .] Sutras in difficult to read Chinese should be translated into plain Japanese; the splendor of Buddhism should light up a humble hut with trails of cooking smoke rather than a temple with its private black carriage. This would transform aristocratic Buddhism into one of the common people. In summary, New Buddhism arises because it is for the common people; Old Buddhism declines because it is aristocratic. Thus, if one wishes to transform an already declining Buddhism into a newly rising Buddhism, aristocratic Buddhism must be totally changed into that of the common people. Third, New Buddhism is spiritual (seishinteki 精神的) while Old Buddhism is materialistic. Indeed, true, genuine religion does not exclude materialistic civilization. However, genuine religion tries to advance materialistic civilization into a spiritual one. Genuine religion must therefore be spiritual, and thus Buddhism must be especially spiritual. Now then, is our nation’s Buddhism spiritual or materialistic? There is a certain grandness in those temples in terms of materiality. Is there comparable grandness in terms of morality? [. . .] There are Buddhist priests leading lay Buddhists in reciting sutras and ceremonies. Do those priests cry, repent, and feel the love of Buddha? [. . .] If one is not touched, one cannot touch others. If one is not moved to tears, one cannot move others to tears. Those priests might talk about tathatā (shinnyo 真如),18 but cannot understand it philosophically. They might argue about Pure Land, but cannot explain ideal Pure Land intellectually (risōteki 理想的). [. . .] They might just say the name of Amitābha [Amida], and the Primal Vow (hongan 本願) and other-power (tariki 他力).19 However, it is so enormous and strong that it attacks the evils in one’s mind. As lightning strikes and destroys everything, this vow sweeps away disappointment, depression, suffering, kleśa (bonnō 煩悩), and avidyā (mumyō 無明) from one’s mind.20 As the sun melts the snow and hastens the growth of plants, the Primal Vow nurtures one’s conscience. Yet how many priests actually realize the weight of the Primal Vow today? How many lay Buddhists feel the weight of this Vow? In summary, true religion does not lie in knowledge, but rather in experience—not skin but nerves, not form but life, not theory but practice, not comedy but tragedy, and not fine clothes but fresh blood. [. . .] Fourth, while Old Buddhism is based on learning (gakumon 学問), New Buddhism is based on faith (shinkō 信仰). Here, learning means



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knowledge and faith means practice. Thus, learning can make people doubt but cannot make them believe. It can make them know but cannot make them act. It can make them discuss but cannot make them feel. It can make people judge but cannot make people contemplate. While true faith thus requires learning, learning is merely a means for faith. Since the aim of New Buddhism is faith rather than learning, knowledge in New Buddhism must not be satisfied in itself, but advance into faith—and faith in New Buddhism must not be satisfied in itself but advance into practice. On the other hand, it seems that the aim of Old Buddhism is learning rather than faith. For example, if you see renowned priests among their society, they are appreciated because of their study of the teachings of the eight sects, their repeated perusal of the complete Buddhist scriptures (issaikyō 一切経), or their great learning and profound knowledge. It is their learning that is esteemed, but there is little concern about their faith. The harmful influence of such tendencies has reached its zenith now. Among famous Buddhist priests there are scholars, debaters, orators, and writers. Yet we have among our priests not yet seen a single one who would serve as a soaring iron pillar of global Buddhism against such corruptions and who would support the entire spiritual energy of Japan with his adamant faith. A Buddhist sutra says that faith allows people to enter the ocean of Buddhism.21 [. . .] Fifth, New Buddhism is social while Old Buddhism is individualistic. It is true that the nature of religionists could be described as individualistic. However, it could also be described as social. Religion partakes of the human liberty of conscience. Therefore, if one believes in a certain religion based on one’s conscience, no one can ever interfere. At this point, religion is individualistic. However, if one believes in a certain religion, it is inevitable that one will be urged to serve others, propagate those beliefs, and spiritually communicate with those who share the same faith. At this point, religion is also social. In our Buddhism, this is taught as self-satisfaction and the benefit of others ( jiri rita 自 利利他), which means love for self and others. However, the Buddhism of our nation is currently individualistic and, to our disappointment, cannot advance to the social level. There are lay Buddhists, for example, who sit calmly while witnessing the rampancy of the foreign religion. There are priests who still have no idea whether Buddhism arises in Western countries.22 There are urgent issues affecting Buddhism, such as how to decide matters related to the management of the head

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temple, how to promote social propagation, how to take measures against the degeneration of our religion, and how to defend against the invasion of the foreign religion. If one were to ask head priests of temples about such issues today, however, they would never be able to say even a single word. Going one step further, if one posed questions such as about the relationship between politics and religion or education and religion, or how Buddhism should engage in nineteenth-century social issues, those priests will probably behave as if they were deaf and dumb and run away. [. . .] Sixth, New Buddhism is historical while Old Buddhism is dogmatic (kyōriteki 教理的). Religion must be based on nothing but unshakable dogma, but such dogma is formed through the induction or deduction of a revelation that the founder received. On the other hand, history is recorded through the birth, education, language, morals, wisdom, hardships, experiences, achievements, and circumstances of those who receive revelation. Thus, dogma is abstract, history is concrete. Dogma is theoretical, history is practical; the former is intellectual and the latter is emotional. [. . .] While dogma makes people understand, history makes people believe. Dogma appeals to reason, and history appeals to emotion. While dogma impresses people, history inspires them. Mr. SaintHilaire23 pointed out that the biography of Śākyamuni, namely its history, is a perfect model of the morality he taught. Mr. Edward24 wrote that if one eagerly pursues the simple morals explained in holy teachings and The Light of Asia,25 one does not need elaborate philosophy or transcendental speculation. I am not abandoning dogma here at all. However, The Light of Asia carries beautiful lessons, noble morals, profound thoughts, and ambitious philosophies. Even those who are usually opposed to Buddhism would admire and revere Śākyamuni after reading this poetry. Thus, International Review evaluated the book as follows: it uses lucid, graceful, touching, and melodious language to express noble ideas and emotions, and there is nothing comparable in its majestic tone except for the New Testament. It is true that Sir Arnold is an exceptional writer. However, without the biography of Śākyamuni, the book would not be like this. Old Buddhism, on the other hand, has neglected such important history up to this day. It is thus no wonder that they turned the Buddhism of faith into a Buddhism of learning. Among those who are not yet interested in this religion, some came to know about Buddhism and often stated that its philosophy is sophisticated but its morality is coarse—that Buddhism is indifferent to worldly matters and



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thus cannot reform society; that Buddhism pursues extinction (jakumetsu 寂滅) and is inclined toward pessimism (enseishugi 厭世主義). Have such people even glanced at The Light of Asia? What impressions would they have after reading it? Indeed, Buddhism aims at spiritual development. To achieve spiritual development, however, it is necessary to promote material development in the first place. Buddhism also aims at infinite well-being, but to achieve infinite well-being, finite well-being must be accomplished. Then, we must consider by what means such aims would be achieved. There is no better choice but to rely on genuine morality. And by what means would such morality be practiced? There is no better choice than to urge and encourage people to pursue infinite well-being. What kind of person would be exemplary? While Śākyamuni was born thousands of years ago, his history today is hundreds or thousands of times more valuable than other morals or philosophies in terms of influence on the morality of human beings. Mr. Olcott26 wrote that the history of Śākyamuni’s life is the strongest bulwark of his religion; as long as the human heart is capable of being touched by tales of heroic self-sacrifice, accompanied by purity and celestial benevolence of motive, it will cherish his memory.27 Thus, those who intend to transform Old Buddhism into New Buddhism must promote dogma and history side by side. Seventh, New Buddhism is rational (dōriteki 道理的) while Old Buddhism is superstitious (mōsōteki 妄想的). Essentially, our Buddhism can neither be thoroughly explained by science (rigaku 理学) nor philosophy, for it has something transcendent that is beyond these fields. However, those parts of Buddhism that are related to science must be interpreted in scientific terms, and those parts of Buddhism that are related to philosophy must be interpreted in philosophical terms. Regarding that in Buddhism, which is transcendent, it is indeed beyond the scope of science and philosophy. While some of it might rely on human nature, other parts would appeal to emotions, and some might be derived from experience. However, Buddhism would never be opposed to the principles of science or philosophy. While the ocean of Buddhism is thus magnificent and boundless, it never allows for a single wave of superstition. Yet conventional Buddhists, when propagating Buddhism, might present phenomena without demonstrating their causes, or they might demonstrate causes without proving them. At this point, people come to regard Buddhism as superstitious even though it is filled with truth. This is due to the fact that people are not interested in pursuing or admiring truth. However, this happens solely because Buddhists fail to explain Buddhism

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properly and thoroughly. Even worse, Buddhist sects swiftly lapse into unorthodox ways by abandoning and neglecting spiritual development and moral influence. For example, they may tell fortunes, etc., [. . .] and confuse ignorant people. Although those sects use the word Buddhism, it is quite obvious that what they call Buddhism is not what Śākyamuni taught; it is their own Buddhism. Even among our nation’s current Buddhism, all but a few sects in the realm habitually follow their own Buddhism. With whom can I discuss the promotion of New Buddhism? In the civilized world, as the age of monotheism has already gone, the age of pantheism is about to come, because superstition is losing its power and the truth is winning. Although science and philosophy have already excluded superstitions, as the truth becomes a clear winner, both count on Buddhism in some way—for our Buddhism is the world’s genuine religion. It is therefore inevitable that this religion will be propagated in accordance with the tide of civilization. Such as the strong wind that blows and the sea currents that run, this truth is beyond our efforts. Fortunately, this is the religion that all Japanese worship. If there are those among the Buddhists of our nation who dare to reform this religion, it will certainly promote the morality of our people and the prosperity of our nation. This is a rare opportunity that we should rejoice about and praise. Yet, to my utter disappointment, our one hundred thousand priests and tens of millions of lay Buddhists fail to notice. Sadly, opportunity gives its advantages only to those who can discern and utilize it; while all emerging Buddhists in the West yearn for Japan as the center of Eastern Buddhism, our priests have not awakened and are still wasting their days. If they do nothing but live idly, this rare opportunity will eventually pass. I cannot help but deplore the Buddhism of our nation with sighs and tears.

Notes This translation is based on Nakanishi Ushirō, “Kyū bukkyō o ippen shite shin bukkyō to nasazaru bekarazu,” 旧仏教ヲ一変シテ新仏教トナサヾル可 ラズ, chapter 12 of Shūkyō kakumeiron 宗教革命論 (On religious revolution) (Tōkyō: Hakubundō 1889), 169–192. 1.  Cf. Notto R. Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan: From Conflict to Dialogue, 1854–1899 (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1987). 2.  In previous works, his first name can be found read as “Ushio.” The pronunciation of his name is not yet confirmed. On Inoue, see part III, chapter 3 in this volume.



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3.  Yatsubuchi was a priest of the Honganji branch of Jōdo Shinshū who later took part in the World Parliament of Religions held in Chicago in 1893. 4.  This was from June 1889 to January 1890. Nakanishi intended to visit the Theosophical Society in New York, but he was ultimately unable to do so. 5.  Note that the concept of shūkyō 宗教, which was a new coinage in modern Japan as a translation of the word “religion,” was being constructed and established at that time. Nakanishi’s argument can be understood as part of the dynamic process rather than a description of established ideas. Cf. Hoshino Seiji, “Reconfiguring Buddhism as a Religion: Nakanishi Ushirō and His Shin Bukkyō,” Japanese Religions 34, no. 2 (July 2009): 133–154. 6.  Cf. Ōtani Ei’ichi 大谷栄一, Kindai bukkyō to iu shiza 近代仏教という視 座 (Tokyo: Perikansha, 2012). 7.  For example, Nakanishi argues that religion would evolve from polytheism through monotheism to pantheism; Buddhism was, for him, a manifestation of the latter. 8.  On the influence of the Christian prototype on the formation of other modern religions, see Talal Asad, Genealogies of Religion: Discipline and Reasons of Power in Christianity and Islam (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993). 9.  This is the final chapter of the book. 10.  The head temples of the two largest sub-denominations of the Jōdo Shinshū, respectively. Together representing close to 15 percent of all Japanese Buddhists, they were known to have been close to the conservative Meiji government. 11.  In 1889, the year that Nakanishi published this text, the new Constitution of the Empire of Japan was promulgated. It established a Diet with a lower house whose members were elected (although the franchise was at first very narrowly limited). 12.  Nakanishi is referring to the abolition of the four-estate system in 1872, although a division into nobility and commoners was maintained until 1947. 13.  Sanpu gokō 三府五港 (Tokyo, Kyoto, Osaka; Hakodate, Yokohama, Kōbe, Nagasaki, Niigata, respectively). The five port cities, along with Shimoda near modern Tokyo, had been opened as treaty ports through the unequal treaties Japan concluded with the United States in 1854 and 1858. The Netherlands, Russia, United Kingdom, and France followed with similar unequal treaties with Japan in 1858.

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14.  Although efforts to improve the quality of priest training had picked up in most sects by 1889, minimum qualifications for entering into the priesthood had not been rigidly established yet. 15.  In the first edition of On Religious Revolution, this is misprinted as fushinkō 不信仰 (unfaith). In the second edition, it is corrected as shinkō; thus I use the latter. 16.  Nakanishi uses the term introduced after the abolition of the old hereditary feudal system in the early 1870s (see above) to designate the vast majority of the population. 17.  To be fair, Nanjō Bun’yū 南条文雄 (1849–1927) had in fact published a Japanese translation of the Smaller Sukhāvatīvyūha Sūtra (J. Amidakyō 阿弥陀経) just one year prior to Nakanishi’s book, in 1888, but Nakanishi’s point is justified in that such translations remained rare exceptions. 18.  Literally “thusness,” a central concept in Mahāyāna Buddhism referring to the form of true reality beyond words, frequently also described as emptiness. 19.  “Other-power,” as opposed to “self-power” ( jiriki 自力), is a central concept in Pure Land Buddhism, referring to the idea that salvation cannot be achieved through efforts of the practitioners themselves, but only through relying upon the intervention of Amida Buddha. The Primal Vow is Amida’s promise to save all those who believe in him. 20.  Kleśa are the afflictions of the mind that prevent beings from escaping the circle of reincarnation. Avidyā, that is, ignorance, is the first link in the chain of dependent causation that upholds the karmic cycle. 21.  This perhaps indicates Daichidoron 大智度論, Nāgārjuna’s Mahāprajñāpāramitā-śāstra translated into Chinese by Kumārajīva. 22.  Japanese reform Buddhists like Nakanishi were obsessed with the success of Buddhism in Europe and North America. In fact, around the time of Nakanishi’s writing, a whole monthly journal was created to that effect, regaling its readers with fanciful accounts of tens of thousands of converts in France alone. This Kaigai bukkyō jijō 海外仏教事情 (The situation of Buddhism abroad) was published between 1888 and 1893. See also part IV, chapter 2 in this volume. 23.  Jules Barthélemy-Saint-Hilaire (1805–1895), author of Le Bouddha et sa religion (1860). 24.  Theodore Gustavus Edward Wolleb (life dates unknown). At that time, he was the head of the Golden Gate Lodge of the Theosophical Society (cf. Hanseikai zasshi 反省会雑誌 20 [July 1889]).



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25.  The Light of Asia is a narrative poem on the life of Siddhartha Gautama written by Edwin Arnold (first published in 1879). 26.  Henry Steel Olcott (1832–1907), one of the founders of the Theosophical Society. 27.  Henry Steel Olcott, “The Life of Buddha and Its Lessons,” in A Collection of Lectures on Theosophy and Archaic Religions (Madras: A. Theyaga Rajier, 1883), 43. Lecture originally delivered in 1880.

chapter 3

“Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists: Our Manifesto” (1900) Anonymous Translated by Jolyon Baraka Thomas

Translator’s Introduction The Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists (Bukkyō Seito Dōshikai 仏教清徒同 志会) was a small group of disaffected clerics and lay Buddhist intellectuals that coalesced in Tokyo in the last year of the nineteenth century. Better known by the group’s later name, “The Fraternity of New Buddhists” (Shin Bukkyōto Dōshikai 新仏教徒同志会, adopted 1903), the organization is more or less synonymous with the “New Buddhism movement” that was primarily active during the first two decades of the twentieth century.1 This small group had two main objectives: the promotion of “sound faith” and the practice of “free inquiry” into religious doctrines. These objectives spurred Fraternity members’ interest in clerical reform, anti-superstition campaigns, reform of public morals, and evidentiary nonsectarian scholarship. The Fraternity’s focus on “New Buddhism” as an antidote for the excesses of “Old Buddhism” originated in the reformist writings of prominent Buddhist intellectuals such as Nakanishi Ushirō 中西牛郎 (1859–1930) and Inoue Enryō 井上円了 (1858–1919).2 The relatively youthful membership had come of age at a time of exploding media, including special-interest magazines targeting a trans-sectarian Buddhist audience and the rise of a new style of oratory called enzetsu 演説. In this flourishing Buddhist youth culture, speeches and magazines served as ways for young Buddhists to bond over topics of shared concern.3 64



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These intellectual trends and social circumstances provided a hospitable environment for the emergence of the New Buddhism movement. It actually came into being, however, in response to three interrelated political issues that galvanized Buddhist clerics and their lay sympathizers. The first was the revision of unequal treaties with foreign powers that took place at the behest of the Japanese government in 1898 and 1899. These long-sought treaty revisions came at the expense of “mixed residence” (naichi zakkyo 内地雑居) with foreigners, eliciting Buddhist concern that the sudden influx of foreign Christian missionaries would erode support among the populace. As the Fraternity’s original name suggests, some young Buddhists actually admired Christianity and hoped to adopt elements of the foreign religion for the purpose of improving what they saw as a degenerate Buddhist tradition.4 The second historical factor that contributed to the rise of the New Buddhism movement was a political furor that erupted in the last two years of the nineteenth century over the government’s official treatment of Christianity. Buddhists vehemently protested the summary dismissal of four hardworking Buddhist chaplains at the Sugamo Prison 巣 鴨監獄 in northern Tokyo by the Christian warden Arima Shirōsuke 有 馬四郎助 (1864–1934). Buddhists developed trans-sectarian lobbies capable of exerting pressure on politicians and policy makers in response to the incident; they also began formulating sophisticated theories about ideal religion–state relations. When Prime Minister Yamagata Aritomo 山県有朋 (1838–1922) advanced a bill in December 1899 that would have imposed onerous restrictions on religions, the same Buddhist political organizations that had developed in response to the Sugamo issue mounted a vociferous resistance effort.5 The ensuing debates over comprehensive religion legislation were a crucial third factor in galvanizing the individuals who formed the Fraternity. The sixth point in the Fraternity platform, “We reject all sorts of political protection and interference,” was a direct reflection of Fraternity members’ critique of this perceived governmental intrusion into Buddhist affairs. Importantly, Fraternity rejection of political protection was also a response to contemporaneous calls to establish an “officially recognized religion system” (kōninkyō seido 公認教 制度), exemplified by the militancy of Jōdo Shinshū 浄土真宗 activists such as Chikazumi Jōkan 近角常観 (1870–1941)6 and Ishikawa Shuntai 石川俊台 (1842–1931). A brief reference to this kōninkyō activism appears in the translation here, just before the Fraternity platform.

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The Fraternity Membership Fraternity members came to know each other through earlier Buddhist movements such as the Hanseikai 反省会 or the Keiikai 経緯会 (Warp and Woof Society). Many of them were readers of, or contributors to, the Keiikai journal Buddhism (Bukkyō 仏教, published 1889–1902). While the early Fraternity practice of using code names and passwords was shortlived, contributors to the journal often published pseudonymously for fear that affiliation with the Fraternity would jeopardize their standing in the clerical world or other professional circles. In general, an inner circle edited the journal and served as the public face of the Fraternity, while an outer circle of supporters attended lecture meetings, subscribed to the journal, and paid dues. Many Fraternity members went on to have illustrious careers as academics or public servants.

New Buddhism (Shin Bukkyō 新仏教) The existence of the Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists was first announced in the journal Buddhism on March 15, 1899, roughly a month after the Keiikai voted to disband over differences of opinion regarding the aforementioned Yamagata Religions Bill.7 The Fraternity’s own journal New Buddhism (Shin Bukkyō) did not begin publication until July 1900. Once in press, New Buddhism featured anonymous editorials, articles explaining specific aspects of the Fraternity platform, disquisitions on Buddhist reform, exhortations to remove “superstitious” elements from popular theater, and advertisements for cutting-edge publications in the field of Buddhist Studies. It remained in publication until August 1915. Ōtani Eiichi 大谷栄一 places the maximum distribution of New Buddhism at only about four hundred copies in 1906, although he acknowledges that despite its limited distribution the journal had considerable influence in the Japanese Buddhist world.8 We can assume that shared subscriptions and the practice of circulating texts among acquaintances (mawashiyomi 回し読み) gave the journal an audience that at least doubled what the official subscription numbers suggest. Despite its relatively small print runs, the journal was taken seriously enough by political authorities that it was banned from publication three times for controversial content (September 1910, October 1913, and May 1914). Today, the entirety of the journal is available as a three-disc CD-ROM set.



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The manifesto translated below is clearly the product of several hands. The abrupt transitions from one topic to the next and the rather inconsistent nature of some of the claims seem to reflect Fraternity members’ unresolved internal debates about the group’s mission. Indeed, later retrospectives authored by Fraternity members confirm that the founders had serious points of disagreement about the Fraternity’s aims during the period between the initial formation of the group in February 1899 and this announcement in July 1900. The language here also reflects members’ academic training in its use of sophisticated terminology and somewhat ponderous grammar. I have slightly modified the text by breaking very long sentences into more manageable units and by adopting approximations for unconventional terms. I capitalized the terms “old” and “new” Buddhism because it seemed to match the tone of the piece.

Translation Moral decadence has already permeated the foundations of society, and the great materialistic wave has truly experienced a groundswell, overflowing high and low. Is it not the case that the influence of religion— which should dispel this darkness and bring peace of mind to life—retreats month by month and year by year? Although from the beginning we have not presumed to have the aptitude to rescue [society] from error, none of us can tolerate merely withdrawing in silence. This is the reason we established the Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists. There are temples, and there are priests; they read the sutras, they deliver sermons. With tens of thousands of parishioners surrounding them, they turn tears of joy into stately temple halls and make [parishioners’] thirst [for knowledge] into robes of embroidered brocade. If we are to call this by the name of Buddhism, then without a doubt it is a rotten, inveterate Old Buddhism. They know how to venerate wooden buddhas and illustrated idols; they know how to file in front of priests and lend ears to their sermons. They fixate on the biased views of each sect, and they only know how to be boastful toward one another. They know well how to chant the name [of the buddhas] and the titles [of the sutras]; they know well how to take prayer beads and sutra fascicles into their hands. And yet have they not already lost the life of faith? If we really had to call this sort of thing Buddhism, then without a doubt this is a moribund, formalistic Old Buddhism. There are those who worship

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Fudō to succeed in the rice market, there are those who make offerings before Inari to pray for recovery from an illness. There are those who beg nāgas for the safety of their boats and ships, and there are those who pray to Shō Kangiten 聖歓喜天9 for a lifetime of fortune and fame. Such types do not think that [their] sincere feelings can move in the slightest in order to awaken to the true significance and true mission of life, so we call this superstitious Old Buddhism. They [priests] must teach the impermanence of the world, but they do not explain the true flavor of the activities of life. They must point to the lofty and distant supernatural, but they do not state that which should be truly enjoyed in this life. They recommend future rebirth and the pleasures of the other world, but they do not at all exhibit the duties and righteousness of humankind and the true value of morality. We call this pessimistic Old Buddhism. They say the 84,000 gates of the dharma, they say the eighty-eight declivities, they say the eighty-one kinds of illusion, they say the mental disturbances of dealing with innumerable details, the disturbance of nescience, they say the fourteen types of delusion, the forty-two types of ignorance, they say the thirty-seven factors of enlightenment, they say the fifty-two stages—all of these things that they raise are the dreams of a fool; they are merely words that have no use in reality. And yet they say that all that is vast and grand in Buddhism is just like this. Are these not the words of fanciful Old Buddhism? We have already professed New Buddhism, and our attitude toward these types of Old Buddhism is naturally clear. New Buddhists certainly oppose Old Buddhists, but ultimately that is not to say that we oppose them, but rather that we hope to save them from their delusion. So while we are opposed to Old Buddhists in this way, in fundamentally rescuing society from decadence, we firmly believe there is no path aside from encouraging a strong improvement of inner character through religious faith (shūkyō no shinkō 宗教の信仰). There may be some in the world who claim that religious faith is identical to superstition. While there are some who claim there is no demand for religion in a refined life, as long as they are not extreme materialists, they only look at the stagnant, corrupt superstitious religion of the past and treat that as religion, treat that as faith, and therefore evaluate and judge all religion and faith based on a mistaken interpretation. In [the space of] a trifling life span, truly faith is the fundamental principle in accomplishing a significant and interesting lifestyle that achieves personal unity. And what could grant faith if not religion alone?



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Although we oppose Old Buddhism and call ourselves reformers of Old Buddhism, this does not at all mean that we aim for the utter destruction of Old Buddhism; rather, we are merely the builders and advocates of a new faith. Some may say that those who claim to have the new thought that has advanced society will have barely scratched the surface even as they claim to have revealed reason and justice. [They will say] that when it comes to such sincere and forthright faith, it should be found among the elderly. That to rush to intellect and distance oneself from sentiment is already to lose the true quality of religion. That many of the progressive religionists of the present fall into this folly. That youths go so far as to say they have no faith, and furthermore dare to say that this is a good thing. While it is true that such statements frequently highlight the evil customs of our age, because they still apply the name “faith” to the old faith, they fail to search for the meaning of faith within new [broader] parameters. Come to think of it, is it not the case that faith is necessarily irrational and gets its very name from [that irrationality]? Some arrive at the same conclusion by saying that religion cannot, in the end, serve to satisfy the demands of life in general, and that it is only within the realm of undeveloped reason that it becomes essential. However, must this indeed be the case? As a method for fundamentally reforming society, we expect the unification of sound faith and sound intellect, and this is why we hope to construct a fresh and new moral conduct and demeanor upon [that foundation]. We truly proclaim this gospel; we are solemn and reserved Puritan Buddhists who live according to this faith. However, we are not the same as those who would take a stance of extreme ascetic austerity. We designate ourselves as Buddhists, and we firmly believe in the singular reality that pervades the universe as shown by the teachings of Buddhism. However, it would be a great mistake to therefore look at us and assume that we apply the language of heresy and depravity (itan gedō 異端 外道) to others because we obsess about the transmission of Buddhism. The free inquiry into all religious doctrines is the flag planted in our camp, one of our most conspicuous objectives. [. . .] On the one hand we clarify through scholarship (gakurijō 学理上) the historical formation of religion (Buddhism) and, on the other, we eradicate, through actual practice, superstition and fallacious legends within it, thus trying to establish the cornerstone of a new religion (a New Buddhism). That is, we broadly seek truth and virtue. The synthesis of the two teachings of Buddhism and Christianity is also one of our ideals, and one of our aspirations.

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In addition to the construction and advocacy of sound faith, we anticipate the utter extermination of sick superstition, and this has been our main objective from the start. It is therefore not only enough to annihilate the dubious creeds (yōkyō 妖教) of the populace and those who would delude the public; we especially take as our duty and our work [the task of] sweeping out the blind faith and weak confusion of Old Buddhists. Yet in response to such base and mistaken beliefs we absolutely must not hate them; we must not look down on them; we must not smirk. Ultimately when we look at faith holistically, at the degree and types thereof, although there may be variations in the details, we desire to have respect and tears of sympathy for [each] one [of these types]. [People may] worship birds and beasts, venerate the sun or moon, or [engage in] all of the inferior types of faith large and small, but if we search deep in the hidden recesses of the universe, we acknowledge that in the foundations of their true hearts they must know the bright and glittering suffusion of a properly solemn eternal and unvarnished spiritual light. [. . .] We have already long ago cut our ties with Old Buddhists, and to reconstruct [those ties] and lend them new life is something that we cannot at all imagine. If we were to put it in a word, we do not intend in the least to help Old Buddhism or to depend on it. Counting ourselves as bearers of a new mode of thought for today, we believe and do not doubt that by promoting religious faith and fundamentally reforming society, those who recognize that this is an exigent present need will gather together and create a collective influence, and this will do nothing other than to open a new trend in a corner of the intellectual world and grant [it] new life. Because of this, we have from the outset not necessarily recognized the necessity of preserving existing ceremonies or maintaining [existing] systems. We are not the same as those types who attempt to understand sacred faith (shinsei naru shinkō 神聖なる信 仰) through superficial means. Rather, we cast away all such hypocrisy and falsehood, and we furthermore hope to gain a new appropriate form that befits New Buddhism. [. . .] As we do not doubt that we will only be given what we have worked for, through our pure and unsullied activities we commit to the judgments of natural competition, and we shall absolutely not attempt to extend our lives by a few short days through the narrow [method of seeking] special state protection. Although it is obvious that a religion that is established within the state cannot escape state oversight, we support the independence of religion, we develop freedom of thought, and



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because we thereby hope for natural development through competition, we keenly eschew political interference and we also reject biased protection and have no need for a system of state religion (kokkyō 国教). Even in the case of the so-called officially recognized religion system, we must state clearly here that we greatly differ in our perspective from the majority of Old Buddhists. Whatever may happen [in the future], this must form one of the points of our platform as our eternal stance regarding religion–state relations: Platform of the Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists: 1. We take sound faith in Buddhism as our fundamental principle. 2. We strive for fundamental reform of society through the arousal and spread of sound faith, knowledge, and morals. 3. We proclaim the free inquiry into Buddhism and other religions. 4. We anticipate the utter extermination of all superstitions. 5. We do not acknowledge the necessity of preserving existing religious systems or ceremonies. 6. We reject all sorts of political protection and interference. Looking back, in March of last year [1899] our Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists had already been created and our six-point platform was already publicized. However, although it might have been thought natural at the time [to do so], we dared not wait [to publicize the existence of the Fraternity] until all of our facilities were in place. We have felt shame at ultimately being targets of laughter for making our voices loud in vain, as arrogant youths who were doing nothing more than gobbling up the momentary pleasure of imprudently crafting a grand plan, and therefore instead of seeking the uncommitted murmurs of assent from our comrades in the world—because we did not [immediately] get a chance to join hands with a great number of sympathetic sincere truth seekers—we rather retreated and maintained our silence now for almost a year and a half, and now we have realized that things may have finally come to a small start. Here we once again adjust the wording of the six principles of our platform and rearrange their order, and standing before the public we humbly seek to appeal to your sympathy. Although it will not be the case that we do not occasionally receive the criticism that we have abandoned common sense and norms in believing in our path, we are truly humble and we expect to receive innumerable [points of] direction and guidance from the public; our broad quest for friends

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in the ten directions is therefore extremely urgent. In our estimation, if we can expect that the reform of the intellectual world cannot be avoided in the coming decades and centuries, we happily pour one tiny drop into the spring that feeds the great ocean and wait to see what effect it will have. For to seek its accomplishment now would be something [only] for the great, and that is not at all what we plan.

Notes This translation is based on an anonymous editorial in Shin Bukkyō 1, no. 1 (1900): 1–5. 1.  Ōtani Eiichi, “The Movement Called ‘New Buddhism’ in Meiji Japan,” in Modern Buddhism in Japan, ed. Hayashi Makoto, Ōtani Eiichi, and Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, 2014), 52–84. 2.  See the chapters on Nakanishi by Hoshino Seiji (part I, chapter 2) and on Inoue by Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm (part III, chapter 3) in this volume. 3.  See Hoshino Seiji, “Reconfiguring Buddhism as a Religion: Nakanishi Ushirō and His Shin Bukkyō,” Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, ed., “Special Issue: The New Buddhism of the Meiji Period: Modernization through Internationalization,” Japanese Religions 34, no. 2 (2009): 133–154; Hoshino Seiji 星野靖 二, “Meiji chūki ni okeru ‘bukkyō’ to ‘shinkō’: Nakanishi Ushirō no ‘Shin Bukkyō’ ron o chūshin ni” 明治中期における「仏教」と「信仰」:中西牛 郎の「新仏教」論を中心に, Shūkyōgaku ronshū 宗教学論集 29 (2010): 33–60; Ōtani Eiichi 大谷栄一, Kindai Bukkyō to iu shiza: Sensō, Ajia, shakai shugi 近代仏教という視座:戦争・アジア・社会主義 (Tokyo: Perikansha, 2012); Ōtani, “The Movement.” 4.  See the chapter on Hanseikai zasshi by James Mark Shields in this volume (part IV, chapter 2). 5.  See Trent E. Maxey, The “Greatest Problem”: Religion and State Formation in Meiji Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014); Jolyon Baraka Thomas, “Varieties of Religious Freedom in Japanese Buddhist Responses to the 1899 Religions Bill,” Asian Journal of Law and Society 3, no. 1 (2016): 49–70. 6.  See the chapter on Chikazumi by Garrett L. Washington in this volume (part IV, chapter 5). 7.  Thomas, “Varieties of Religious Freedom.” 8.  Ōtani, Kindai bukkyō to iu shiza, 60. 9.  Shō Kangiten is the Japanese name of the elephant-headed deity Vināyaka.

chapter 4

“Discussing the Kanrenkai” (1897) Kyōkai Jigensha (attrib. Kiyozawa Manshi) Translated by Jeff Schroeder

Translator’s Introduction In October of 1896, six young priests of the Ōtani denomination of the Jōdo Shin (hereafter Shin) sect published the first issue of the journal Kyōkai jigen 教界時言 (Timely words for the religious world), announcing their visions for sect reform. They highlighted three main concerns: the administration’s failure to protect the reputation of their denomination’s chief abbot (hossu 法主), who had been accused in the press of moral improprieties; the administration’s mismanagement of finances and poverty-inducing fundraising campaigns; and most importantly, its neglect of education and missionary work. By way of solutions, they demanded the resignation of the chief administrator, the establishment of an elected assembly of priests with legislative and budgetary powers, and expanded educational and missionary programs. Students of the denomination’s new university, Shinshū Daigaku 真宗大学, expressed solidarity with the reformers, took leaves of absence from school, and traveled the country to drum up support. Leading Ōtani scholars like Murakami Senshō 村上専精 and Inoue Enryō 井上円了 also joined the cause. By February of 1897, a national reform organization was created, and a petition was drafted and signed by over 20,000 Ōtani members. Thus arose the Shirakawa 白川 sect reform movement, named for the neighborhood in north Kyoto where the reformers’ headquarters was located. The most well known of the Shirakawa leaders was Kiyozawa Manshi 清沢満之 (1863–1903), a pioneering philosopher of religion who later

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became the figurehead of the popular Seishinshugi 精神主義 movement.1 Kiyozawa’s career was launched when Ōtani authorities elected to sponsor his higher education in Tokyo. Earlier in 1876, Kasahara Kenju 笠原研寿 and Nanjō Bun’yū 南条文雄 had been sent by Ōtani authorities to England to study Sanskrit at Oxford University, and from 1880, Inoue Enryō, Kiyozawa, fellow Shirakawa leaders Imagawa Kakushin 今川覚神 and Inaba Masamaru 稲葉昌丸, and others were sent to study at Tokyo University, entrusted with the task of defending Pure Land Buddhism against the onslaught of Western philology, philosophy, science, and religion. After graduating, Kiyozawa and his associates set to work reforming their denomination’s educational system, trying to incorporate philosophy, science, and foreign languages. However, the reformers’ initiatives were continually frustrated by financial and political obstacles. Financially, the Ōtani organization was struggling to repay enormous debts while rebuilding the main halls of Higashi Honganji Temple. Politically, it had come under the near-autocratic control of Chief Administrator Atsumi Kaien 渥美契縁, who was undermining the reformers’ efforts. Furthermore, during the course of the Shirakawa movement, the emergence of a counter-reform group known as the Kanrenkai 貫練会 (Society of penetrating mastery) revealed an even more fundamental conflict. “Discussing the Kanrenkai” (Kanrenkai o ronzu 貫練会を論す) is an editorial published in Kyōkai jigen in October 1897 at the tail end of the movement.2 It first describes the Kanrenkai’s mission to protect Shin studies from the novel interpretations of scholars like Kiyozawa. Alluding to Kiyozawa’s philosophical works and Inaba’s zoological experiments, critics had accused the reformers of trying to turn Shin into a “philosophy sect or an animal sect.”3 The Kanrenkai insisted that the study of Shin scriptures, particularly sect founder Shinran’s Kyōgyōshinshō 教行信証, be based in the sect’s long commentarial tradition, which stretched back to Zonkaku’s 存覚 authoritative fourteenth-century Rokuyōshō 六要鈔. In response, the Kyōkai jigen editors confidently assert their tradition’s “sectarian principles” (shūgi 宗義) to be fixed and unchanging, totally unaffected by the “sectarian studies” (shūgaku 宗学) of later scholars.4 They argue that the free study of Pure Land teachings in connection with philosophy and science is not a threat; rather, it is a necessary aspect of Buddhism’s constant adaptation to social change—in this



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case to the new forms of Western knowledge and concerns for nation building prevailing in Meiji Japan. The authors also promote individual, unmediated study of scripture. Traditional reliance on commentaries, they argue, was actually inhibiting understanding. These modernist impulses to question tradition, approach Buddhist scriptures anew, and bring Buddhism into conversation with foreign idea systems had already permeated the world of Japanese Buddhism a decade prior, owing to popular works by Inoue Enryō, Nakanishi Ushirō 中西牛郎,5 Furukawa Rōsen 古川老川, and others.6 In the case of the Shirakawa movement, one witnesses the drama that ensued when attempts were made to actualize those ideals within the realm of institutional Buddhism. The results of the movement were mixed. The chief administrator was forced to resign, the legislative assembly was expanded to include some elected members, and educational reforms were promised. However, the reform leaders were temporarily stripped of their priestly credentials, and the national movement disbanded without achieving most of its aims. As for freedom of study, the stage was set for a protracted battle that stretched into the post–World War II period. The doctrinal investigations referred to near the end of “Discussing the Kanrenkai” persisted, many of them targeting disciples of Kiyozawa. Most sensational was the Kaneko Daiei 金子大栄 heresy trial of 1928.7 Ultimately, the distinction laid out here between “sectarian principles” and “sectarian studies,” along with the ideal of free inquiry, were accepted within the Ōtani denomination, but the extent to which Kiyozawa’s intellectual descendants actually implemented that ideal is another matter.

Translation The Kanrenkai’s Origins and Goals For what purpose did the Kanrenkai arise? Looking at Article Three of its provisional regulations, its purpose seems extremely admirable: “Our goals are to protect the received teachings and to clarify the sectarian principles.” However, when one seeks out its origins by delving into its internal workings, one finds unsightly, almost unspeakable things. We are not ones to take pleasure in intentionally exposing secrets. We merely want to clarify the Kanrenkai’s origins and goals on the basis of its own publicly presented mission statement. That mission statement

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contains detailed explanation of the meaning of Article Three of its provisional regulations, so it is most useful for clarifying its origins and goals. Thus, we will first quote its main points below: Although there are many kinds of factors that account for the rise or fall of this sect, none is more essential than minds at peace (anjin 安心) with respect to the sectarian principles. . . . We must now bow down and look up to the past. Reverently, we must rely upon the interpretations passed down from masters to disciples and follow the instructions transmitted by past scholars. Not mixing any of our own hasty conclusions, we must determine truth and falsity and distinguish heretical from correct, thereby avoiding mistaken views about the great matter of self and others escaping [from saṃsāra]. . . . However, tempted by recent social trends, [there are now those] who recklessly aim to tamper with the sectarian principles. Seeking to establish their own speculative teachings, they present them as the teachings of our predecessors, “hanging cow head but selling dog meat.” They bring confusion to the classification of the Saintly Path Gate and Pure Land Gate (shōjō nimon 聖浄二門) and fail to distinguish between true and provisional. Having the blind lead the blind, they descend into a great pit of heresy and error ( jagi fushō 邪義不正). . . . Thus, we now establish the Kanrenkai, rallying those with the same aspirations from throughout the land, destroying monstrous heresies without, and defending the dharma castle within. [. . .] On the basis of the above analysis, we understand this mission statement to include at least the following four points: 1) The Kanrenkai holds that among today’s Shin followers, there are those who aim to tamper with the sectarian principles. 2) The Kanrenkai deems sectarian studies interpretations that are not in accord with the so-called track of the predecessors (senpai no kitetsu 先輩の軌轍) to be heretical and unorthodox ( jagi fushōgi 邪 義不正義). 3) The Kanrenkai claims to be able to make judgments of heresy and orthodoxy toward the views of sectarian studies scholars. 4) The Kanrenkai seeks to “rally those with the same aspirations” and thereby destroy so-called heresy and unorthodoxy.



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The first point surely arises from a mistaken confusion of sectarian principles with sectarian studies. The second and third points issue from a mistaken interpretation based on the aforementioned misunderstanding. And the fourth point is nothing but a wish to act upon a spirit of narrow partisanship. We would like to investigate these misunderstandings, discuss the harms of narrow partisanship, and take measures toward some unity for the sake of our sect’s future.

Sectarian Principles and Sectarian Studies Sectarian principles and sectarian studies are clearly distinct. One certainly must not confuse the two. The sectarian principles were established by the sect founder [Shinran]. Sectarian studies are the inquiries of later scholars. One is the dharma gate that is to be interpreted. The other is the words of the interpreters. Therefore, although the sectarian principles are fixed and unchanging, that does not stop sectarian studies from developing and changing. The sectarian principles of our Shin sect are found within the six chapters of the Broad Book [kōhon 広本; i.e., the Kyōgyōshinshō], which is the holy scripture that established the teachings and founded the sect. Its words are bright like the sun and stars. How could anyone disturb them? On the other hand, sectarian studies are inquiries into those sectarian principles from an academic perspective. Thus, regardless of how deep, shallow, excellent, or inferior such interpretations are, they are all nothing more than the personal views of later scholars. Even when it comes to the erudition and subtleties of Master Jinrei 深励 of Kōgatsuin 香月院 (1749–1817), or the depth and clarity of Master Senmyō 宣明 of Enjōin 円乗院 (1750– 1821), they are still nothing more than the sectarian studies views of individual scholars. Therefore, one can uphold this view and oppose that one, or uphold that view and contradict this one, without opposing the sectarian principles. This is clearly because sectarian studies interpretations cannot enter the realm of the sectarian principles. Truly, the Broad Book’s holy phrases are bright, but its meanings are obscure. Its words are near, yet its significance is far away. Later scholars can only peer into places where the founder’s intent is manifest. They cannot definitively say what the founder’s intent was. In the realm of sectarian studies, the intelligence and discernment of scholars differ; the directions of their research differ; and various other aspects differ. Thus, various different interpretations arise, yet between them, there are only differences of depth and shallowness or excellence and inferiority. So

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long as they do not oppose the clear words of the Broad Book, one certainly cannot separate them into true and false or orthodox and heretical. Therefore, determination of whether one is a Shin follower or not hinges on whether one faithfully reveres the sectarian principles; it does not hinge on whether one adheres to a certain track of sectarian studies. [. . .]

The So-Called Track of the Academy A person might say, I respectfully accept your statement that there is a difference between sectarian principles and sectarian studies. However, while there are differences between these two, they are also inseparably related. Although the Shin sect’s sectarian principles are fully laid out in the Broad Book, if one does not attain the correct way of viewing them, one cannot reach true faith. Therefore, if one wants to reach true faith, one must clarify the correct intent (shōi 正意) of the sectarian principles. And if one wants to clarify the correct intent of the sectarian principles, one must cast off one’s own speculations and follow the predecessors’ track of study (gakutetsu 学轍).8 This is what the Kanrenkai group is always saying. Although this may seem reasonable at first hearing, deeper investigation shows these to be empty words with no basis at all. After all, what kind of thing is this track of study that this group speaks of? From the time of Master Ekū 恵空 (1644–1721), our denomination has seen scholars arising one after another, and sectarian studies have gradually grown and prospered. By the time of Kansei (1789–1801) and Bunka (1804–1818) when the two masters Jinrei and Senmyō appeared together, [sectarian studies] had largely reached its height. Yet these masters each expressed their own views, together demonstrating the deep intent of the sectarian principles. They did not vainly follow the explanations of their forebears. Did there exist any consistent track of study throughout this period? The two masters Jinrei and Senmyō had extreme differences in their views, yet both are revered by scholars as great authorities of sectarian studies. [. . .] But that is not all. Even looking at one individual, is it not the case that a person often revises his own explanations, yielding great differences between earlier and later? [. . .] Let us now provisionally concede that among past sectarian studies scholars of our denomination, there have existed tracks of study, however vague, upheld by various groups. If that were so, which should be taken up and followed? Some



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will declare Master Senmyō’s track of study to be the true lineage (seitō 正統). Some will take Master Jinrei’s track of study to be the true lineage. Others will cast these aside and take up other tracks of study. But what standard is used in this picking and choosing? On what basis can one know that only Master Senmyō’s teachings have grasped the true intent of the sectarian principles? On what basis can one know that only Master Jinrei’s teachings have grasped the true intent of the sectarian principles? In the end, to make judgments of correct and incorrect in this way toward these various masters, one could neither depend upon Master Jinrei nor upon Master Senmyō. Would it not first be necessary to have an understanding of the correct intent of the sectarian principles for oneself, and on that basis, make judgments of correct and incorrect? [. . .] In short, the standard for correct and incorrect lies in the clear words of the Broad Book and not in the lectures of the predecessors. Suppose one needed to rely upon the lectures of the predecessors before approaching the Holy Teachings. To understand the lectures of the predecessors, one would need to rely upon other lectures. And to understand those other lectures, one would need still more lectures. Piling commentary upon commentary and adding interpretation upon interpretation in this way, one runs after the branch, casting away the root; one follows the stream, forgetting the spring. One increasingly moves further away from the correct intent of the Holy Teachings. This is actually a common error of Buddhist scholars. Particularly misunderstood is that although the Holy Teachings’ meanings are obscure and distant, their words are bright and clear. If one just looks at the text, grasping its correct intent is not necessarily a task of extreme difficulty. Thus, most of the predecessors (at the very least, those who came first) examined the Holy Teachings directly without relying on the guidance of others. If one condemns the practice of not relying on others’ instructions, does this not mean condemning the very predecessors one reveres?

The Meaning of Free Inquiry In short, for the Kanrenkai group to delineate a single track of study by the predecessors and use that as a standard for making judgments of correct and incorrect is totally out of accord with the dharma and thus utterly without reason. That they wander in a cave of confusion, belittling themselves, unable to go forth into the broad expanse of free

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inquiry and propound the sectarian principles broadly, must be due to their mistaken view that confuses sectarian principles with sectarian studies. I think this mistaken view is the root of the sickness in their sectarian studies. [. . .] In sectarian studies research, there is the inner-directed gateway and the outer-directed gateway (kōnai kōgai nimon 向内向外二問). One must produce interpretations by following each of these gateways properly. The inner-directed gateway does not necessarily require new terminology or new modes of interpretations. It is enough to expound [the doctrines] just as they are presented in the Holy Teachings. However, the outer-directed gateway requires changing the interpretation in accordance with the audience type. Classifying the outer-directed gateway by audience type yields a division into three general types: the outerdirected gateway for other sects (tashū 他宗), the outer-directed gateway for other religions (takyō 他教), and the outer-directed gateway for the worldly realm (seken 世間). For the outer-directed gateway for other sects, one must interpret using dharma gateways (hōmon 法門) common to all sects. For the outer-directed gateway for other religions, one must interpret on the basis of doctrines (kyōgi 教義) shared by all religions. For the outer-directed gateway for the worldly realm, one must interpret on the basis of that which is commonly accepted in the worldly realm. Moreover, this outer-directed gateway for the worldly realm is further divided into two types: theoretical (science and philosophy) and practical (politics, law, morality, education, and so forth). For the former, one should interpret entirely on the basis of reason. For the latter, one must explain chiefly on the basis of benefits and harms for society and the nation. [. . .] If they presume to distinguish orthodoxy and heresy on the basis of various similarities or differences in terminology or course of interpretation, how do they address the derivation of many Buddhist terms and methods of interpretation from Brahmanism? Do they not know that even the names used to express fundamental Buddhist doctrines like saṃsāra and nirvāṇa, ignorance and awakening, and afflictions and liberation come from Brahmanism, which predated Buddhism? And it is not just the names. Various theories such as that of heavens and hells, samsaric rebirth, and karmic recompense were also equally already expounded in that religion. In short, it is no exaggeration to say that the great edifice of Buddhism took nearly all its materials from Brahmanism. And this does not diminish the value of Buddhism



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in the least. After all, the essence of Buddhism is not there; it lies elsewhere. Such materials were nothing more than tools used to open its dharma gateways to another religion. [. . .] Nowadays, what after all is the situation of our nation’s theoretical world? What after all is the state of our nation’s practical world? Western science and philosophy have greatly changed the thought of our nation’s people. Western politics, law, morality, education, and so on have greatly reformed the circumstances of our nation. The world surrounding Buddhism does not still persist in old viewpoints. Can Buddhism fail to adapt? Buddhism’s world-weary tendency is harmful to social development, and Buddhism’s viewpoint of equality is destructive of our people’s national spirit—are these not the condemnations coming from the practical world? Buddhism’s explanation of karmic recompense is delusional; Buddhism’s teachings on the world’s composition are at odds with empirical evidence; and Mahāyāna was not expounded by the Buddha— are these not the attacks arising from the theoretical world? In short, what we need to pursue in today’s sectarian studies is not the outerdirected gateway for other sects, but the outer-directed gateway for other religions; [nay, we need to pursue] not the outer-directed gateway for other religions, but the outer-directed gateway for the worldly realm. [. . .] The meaning of free inquiry here ought to be clear. That is, what we refer to as freedom of inquiry is not absolute but relative. It is freedom of inquiry within the scope of the Broad Book’s statements. To say that even this is unacceptable would be to deny the establishment of sectarian studies altogether.

Our Denomination’s Peace of Mind Examinations The harmful effects resulting from confusing sectarian principles with sectarian studies do not stop there. The Kanrenkai falsely believes itself able to make judgments of heresy and orthodoxy with regard to the views of sectarian studies scholars. In its so-called sectarian principle investigations (shūgi torishirabe 宗義取調), or peace of mind examinations (anjin chōri 安心調理), we observe it falling into great error.9 [. . .] As one of the important duties of the denominational administration, hearings in regard to such matters are under the exclusive authority of the chief abbot who leads the sect. So-called peace of mind examinations must be conducted accordingly. In what sense is the Kanrenkai claiming to be able to make judgments of heresy and orthodoxy? Is it presuming to make judgments through the

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hearings referred to above? Such would be to usurp the exclusive authority of the chief abbot. Is it presuming to judge views that do not contradict the clear words of the Holy Teachings? Such would be not only extremely unreasonable but also simply indeterminable. Thus, if the Kanrenkai’s aims are not usurpatory, they must be delusional. [. . .]

Conclusion [. . .] Talented people who are in touch with the trends of the contemporary intellectual world, investigating the currents of the practical world, responding ably, and devising plans to preserve the sect, must not neglect the development of the denomination. Those who do not rest content like slaves of the predecessors, but rather devise new explanations of lofty insight and refined thinking, thereby exalting the deep intent of the sectarian principles, should be treated favorably and employed for important purposes. However, the Kanrenkai views all such people as enemies, deeming them destroyers of the sect. What if the Kanrenkai attains even a little power? The former could not possibly avoid being swept aside. Those who stubbornly stick to old ways would rise up while their capable peers would be unable to attain positions worthy of their talent and education. The denomination’s doctrinal studies would increasingly fall behind social trends, finally becoming unsavable. This makes one’s heart turn cold. [. . .] There is an even deeper issue than this. This group has dispatched people in all directions, and we hear that the substance of their appeal in recruiting new Kanrenkai members is to say that those who want to know the correct intent of the sectarian principles ought to quickly join this society. What false words! The sectarian principles of the Shin Ōtani denomination are set out within the Broad Book. As for who governs their preservation, above it is the chief abbot and below it is the thousands of priests. How can it be the monopoly of the private Kanrenkai? They now take themselves to be the sole transmitters of the correct intent of Shin sectarian principles. Those who do not join their society they hope to slander as mistaken and lacking minds at peace. Is this not an attempt to divide up the sect and usurp the chief abbot’s exclusive authority as their own? We hear that the Kanrenkai has requested official recognition from the temple administration. Among the authorities, some want to approve



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official recognition while others do not. Even now, the matter is undecided. How is it that the authorities are even considering its official recognition? Such would be an immeasurable disaster for the denomination. We are watching to see what steps are taken by the authorities. Based on the appropriateness of such actions, we will have much more to discuss.

Notes This is a translation of excerpts from “Kanrenkai o ronzu,” in Kiyozawa Manshi 清沢満之, Kiyozawa Manshi zenshū 清沢満之全集, vol. 7, ed. Ōtani Daigaku 大谷大学 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2003), 111–123. Ellipses within brackets denote omissions made by the translator; ellipses without brackets appear in the original text. Italics denote emphasis found in the original text. 1.  For an introduction to Kiyozawa and his writings in English, see Mark L. Blum and Robert F. Rhodes, eds., Cultivating Spirituality: A Modern Shin Buddhist Anthology (Albany: State University of New York Press, 2011), 55–98. For a biography, including discussion of the Shirakawa movement, see Yoshida Kyūichi 吉田久一, Kiyozawa Manshi 清沢満之 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1986). 2.  The article appears without any author’s name. It has traditionally been attributed to Kiyozawa. However, according to Yamamoto Nobuhiro, based on this essay’s writing style and word choice, there is a high likelihood that Kiyozawa did not pen it himself (personal communication). As one of the journal’s editors, however, we can assume that at the very least, Kiyozawa reviewed and approved of its contents. Regarding Kiyozawa’s writing style and works falsely attributed to him, see Yamamoto Nobuhiro 山本伸裕, “Seishin-shugi” wa dare no shisō ka 「精神主義」は誰の思想か (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2011). 3.  “Tōrosha tai kakushin shudan” 当路者対革新手段, Kyōkai jigen 3 (1896), quoted in Shinshū kyōdan no kindaika 真宗教団の近代化, ed. Mori Ryūkichi 森龍吉, vol. 12 of Shinshū shiryō shūsei 真宗史料集成 (Kyoto: Dōhōsha, 1983), 464–465. 4.  In a Shin context, these terms refer specifically to “Shin sectarian principles” and “Shin sectarian studies.” 5.  See, in this volume, chapters on Nakanishi by Hoshino Seiji (part I, chapter 2) and on Inoue by Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm (part III, chapter 3). 6.  Ōtani Eiichi, “The Movement Called ‘New Buddhism’ in Meiji Japan,” in Modern Buddhism in Japan, ed. Hayashi Makoto, Ōtani Eiichi, and Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and Culture, 2014), 52–84.

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7.  Jeff Schroeder, “The Insect in the Lion’s Body: Kaneko Daiei and the Question of Authority in Modern Buddhism,” in Modern Buddhism in Japan, ed. Hayashi et al., 194–222. 8.  In the section heading above, the authors associate the “predecessors’ track of study” with the “Academy,” referring to the Takakura Academy (Takakura Gakuryō 高倉学寮), the Ōtani denomination’s traditional center of doctrinal studies. By contrast, the authors implicitly associate themselves with Shinshū University, which had been established in 1896 as a complementary institution offering a broader education. A conflict between the two institutions would be settled in 1911 with their merger into Shinshū Ōtani University. See Ōtani daigaku hyakunenshi henshū iinkai 大谷大学百年史編集委員会, ed., Ōtani Daigaku hyakunenshi 大谷大学百年 史, vol. 1 (Kyoto: Ōtani Daigaku, 2001). 9.  Later in this section of the article, the authors speak specifically of “investigations of sectarian principles that have arisen one after another since last fall [1896].” Among those targeted were Shirakawa movement leader Inoue Bunchū 井上豊忠 and Shinshū University president Urabe Kanjun 占部観順. The latter would be expelled from the sect in 1899. Regarding the Urabe incident, see ibid., 125–129.

chapter 1

On Protecting the Nation through Buddhism (1856) Gesshō Translated by Orion Klautau

Translator’s Introduction On July 8, 1853, a fleet of four American vessels—including two steampowered warships—reached Uraga, at the entrance of Edo Bay. Commanded by Commodore Matthew C. Perry (1794–1858), himself under orders from President Millard Fillmore (1800–1874), this expedition aimed to, among other things, establish diplomatic relations with Japan. This expedition, which would ultimately become a watershed event for the archipelago’s sociopolitical history, was also the climax of a long process of foreign incursions into Japanese coastal areas. Although attempts to circumvent the Tokugawa policy of seclusion did take place during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in the nineteenth century they had become both increasingly common and, in the eyes of bakufu authorities, far more audacious. One of these incursions, in 1824, prompted both the issuing of the Edict to Repel Foreign Vessels (Ikokusen uchiharairei 異国船打払令), and the drafting of Aizawa Seishisai’s (1782–1863) Shinron 新論 (New theses), a work that would provide inspiration to the movement to “revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians” (sonnō jōi 尊皇攘夷) of the late Tokugawa years, in the following year. News of the Chinese defeat in the First Opium War (1839–1842) prompted Japanese military specialists to reconsider their traditional perspectives on coastal defense. Around this time, for instance, the techniques used in Napoleonic warfare became a serious topic of study, evidenced by the completion in

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1852 of Sanpei Takuchiiki 三兵答古知幾, a translation initiated by renowned rangaku scholar Takano Chōei 高野長英 (1804–1850) of Prussian general Heinrich von Brandt’s (1789–1868) Grundzüge der Taktik der drei Waffen (Foundations for the tactics of the three arms, 1833) from the Dutch version of J. J. van Mulken (1796–1879). It was precisely in this context of an increasing “foreign threat” and reconsideration of traditional defense techniques that the text below was first imagined. Its author, Gesshō 月性 (1817–1858), was a Honganji priest born in the village of Tōzaki, in Suō Province (present-day Yanai City, Yamaguchi Prefecture).1 In 1831, he entered the Zōshun’en 蔵春 園, a private academy in the nearby province of Buzen, where he learned the Chinese classics under Tsunetō Seisō 恒遠醒窓 (1803–1863).2 The latter had previously been a student of Takashima Shūhan 高島秋帆 (1798–1866), a prominent late-Edo military engineer responsible for introducing Dutch flintlock guns into Japan.3 In 1836 Gesshō moved to the province of Bizen, entering the Shōkyoryō 精居寮 Academy at Zenjōji 善定寺, where he studied Buddhism under Fugyū 不及 (1785– 1846). Around this time, at Nagasaki, Gesshō purportedly witnessed Dutch ships for the first time, which is said to have influenced his interest in matters of coastal defense. He also studied in Hiroshima under Sakai Kozan 坂井虎山 (1798– 1850), and in Osaka, at Shinozaki Shōchiku’s 篠崎小竹 (1781–1851) famous Baikasha Academy 梅花社, where he met and developed lifelong friendships with Confucian scholars such as Umeda Unpin 梅田雲 浜 (1815–1859) and Rai Mikisaburō 頼三樹三郎 (1825–1859), the son of Rai San’yō 頼山陽 (1780–1832). Although with all of these connections he could have easily stayed in Osaka as an instructor, Gesshō chose to return to his native village of Tōzaki, where in the spring of 1848 he started the Jishūkan 時習館, his own private academy, on the grounds of his Myōenji Temple 妙円寺. Many important local priests were educated at this institution, some of whom went on to hold central positions in the Honganji administration, such as Ōzu Tetsunen 大洲鉄然 (1831– 1902) and Akamatsu Renjō 赤松連城 (1841–1919). It was also around this time that he developed ties with Yoshida Shōin 吉田松陰 (1830– 1859), on whom Gesshō’s work had a deep influence. In late 1853, directly prompted by the arrival of Perry’s expedition, Gesshō submitted a petition to Mōri Takachika 毛利敬親 (1819–1871), lord of Chōshū domain. Titled Naikai Kiyū 内海杞憂 (Concerns about [this] sea-enclosed [area]), this memorandum proposed five strategies



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to improve coastal defenses, all of which reveal a clear influence from post-Napoleonic ideas on weaponry and warfare.4 A few months later he drafted the Hansei kaikaku iken fūji 藩政改革意見封事 (A sealed statement with my views on domainal reforms), where he asserted that, if the bakufu was unable to ward off the “barbarians,” it was then the responsibility of Chōshū domain to lead the nation into a new political system with the emperor at its center. Gesshō was, in short, proposing the idea of “revering the sovereign and overthrowing the bakufu” (sonnō tōbaku 尊王討幕). Although critical of domainal policies, Gesshō did gain the respect of local authorities, and his sermons on the topic soon became a success. In the eighth month of Ansei 3 (1856) he was summoned to his sect’s Head Temple, most probably by Kōnyo 広如 (1798–1871), the twentieth abbot of Nishi Honganji. While in Kyoto he finished drafting a memorandum summarizing his ideas, which he presented to Kōnyo. In his Gohō iken fūji 護法意見封事 (A sealed statement with my views on protecting the dharma), he emphasized the ways Buddhism could aid in national defense. Since the Western powers seemed to use Christianity as part of their tactics to invade foreign lands, Gesshō suggests that the Japanese combat “religion with religion.” The idea was that Buddhism— his own Jōdo Shinshū in particular—could provide the proper moral and spiritual grounds for the population to expel the barbarians. In order to do so, however, the Buddhist institution also had to be reformed to an extent. In the spring of Ansei 5 (1858), as the bakufu was about to sign its first “unequal” treaty with the United States, Gesshō was once again summoned by Kōnyo, who intended to send him to Edo as an official Honganji envoy. Gesshō, however, fell ill, suddenly passing away around age 40. After his unexpected death, the Nishi Honganji decided to publish his Gohō iken fūji, but not without first making alterations to the original memorandum, suppressing, for instance, most parts on institutional reform. A few months later in the same year, an edited form of the text was then put out as Buppō gokokuron 仏法護国論 (On protecting the nation through Buddhism), part of which is translated below.5 This work, which made him famous throughout the nation as the “coastal defense priest” (kaibōsō 海防僧), was distributed to temples around Japan, and read by Buddhists as well as others. Yoshida Shōin, for instance, in his final work before being executed, recommends that his followers read the Buppō gokokuron.

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It is also noteworthy that Takasugi Shinsaku 高杉晋作 (1839–1867), the central figure behind the establishment of the kiheitai 奇兵隊 militias that dominated the Chōshū war effort in bakumatsu Japan, had also been influenced by Gesshō. However, the impact of his work was perhaps more directly felt among closer disciples, such as Dairaku Gentarō 大楽源太郎 (d. 1871) and the aforementioned Ōzu Tetsunen, who were also pivotal in the establishment of several of the militias that were to a great extent responsible for the domain’s eventual victory. Besides the clear character of Gesshō’s text as a literal call-to-arms to his fellow Buddhists, it also conveys a traditional understanding of Christianity that would change greatly in the next two decades with the establishment in Japan of the first Protestant missions and consequent introduction of an understanding of “religion” that was, to the Japanese, alien at the time Gesshō wrote this work. It was in this process of (re)defining Christianity as the “evil other” that we can find, however, the seeds for a shift toward a type of Buddhist identity which, as one can observe below, cannot be understood separately from the “nation.”

Translation I believe that this indeed is a time of distress for our country (tenka 天下). Filled with ambitious feelings, the barbarians of America, Russia, England, and France come one after the other making demands. It is not only up to [government] officials and bureaucrats (yo no shitaifu 世ノ士大夫) to deal with this distress; we too, as Buddhists, are to take responsibility for this. Although there are differences between the many kinds of barbarians, they all believe in the same evil teaching ( jakyō 邪教), and a calendar based on the birth of their savior is commonly used in each of their countries. It goes without saying that this is true for England and France. But in the letter recently sent to the bakufu by the American barbarian Captain Perry, it also says that: “all people high and low in Western countries, including America, understand the way of Christianity in their ethics.”6 Also, the Russian ships that came to Nagasaki and Settsu hoisted flags with the cross, which symbolizes Christ’s punishment of crucifixion. Everyone in those ships is determined, to the death, to spread everywhere their teachings. If our people come into daily contact with such teachings, if they are seduced and lured by them and this doctrine (kyōhō 教法) ends up contaminating the people, then our Buddhism (buppō 仏法) will inevitably fall into decline.



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Should we not do something about this? It is, therefore, my opinion that now is the time for restoring our nation (kokka 国家). Indeed, in this very moment, Buddhism should become prosperous once again. Is it not a matter of concern that Buddhism may fall into decline when our Land of the Gods (shinshū 神州) collapses? In olden days, the Worldhonored One preached thusly in the Sūtra for Humane Kings (Nin’ōgyō 仁王経): “This dharma belongs to the King; it belongs not to the bhikkhu and bhikkhuni, upāsaka, and upāsikā. This is because without sovereign authority, [the dharma] cannot flourish.” Although Buddhism is supreme, it cannot stand independently. The dharma is established due to the existence of the nation. Where there is no skin, there can grow no hair. We still have not seen a place where the nation has collapsed but the dharma alone survives. I shall provide proof for what I am saying. In Eishō 11 (1514), that is, three hundred and forty-three years ago [sic], the Portuguese captured a coastal area in India and, from that base, educated the local folk through Christianity. At last they took control of the region, and destroyed the image of the Buddha enshrined at the Vulture Peak, turning it into over seven hundred thousand gold pieces. With this, [India’s] native Buddhism was eventually destroyed. A hundred and forty-three years later [sic], in Jōō 3 (1654), England fought and won against Portugal, expelling the latter and gaining control of their land. They too promoted the heretical teaching, proselytizing to the locals and throwing both that country and Buddhism into barbarism. Being the birthplace of the World-Honored One, India is the fundamental nation of Buddhism. And yet, it finds itself in such a situation. How much worse will it be in other lands? [. . .] As we have seen, [the Portuguese] are artful in using religion (kyō 教) for stealing lands; we should know that they are indeed formidable in doing so. In order to steal people’s lands, they have thus far relied upon both religion and warfare (kyō to sen to 教ト戦ト). Therefore, in order to protect ourselves against them, we also have to use both religion and warfare. Regarding the protection [of Japan] through warfare, there is no shortage of those who are capable of taking up this responsibility. Who are they? The shogun, the daimyo, and the bakufu leaders in the various domains. In order to [protect our nation], we have in recent years been constructing artillery batteries, building warships, forging cannons, and learning gunnery formations, including

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techniques such as the use of rifles. All [levels of administration] under the bakufu have been providing training and conducting general exercises in order to defend, through military preparation, [our nation] against the barbarians. Let those whose duty is to do so take up this responsibility. However, some aspects of the nation’s situation are rather urgent: the bakufu refuses to promptly engage into the decisive battle that would dispatch [the barbarians] once and for all, and has instead relented to their requests, allowing for negotiations, opening up common markets, leasing them land, and authorizing the residence of their officials. I am indeed concerned that even now, the ignorant people in coastal areas have already befriended the barbarians and grow closer to them every day. Enticed by fat profits, crawling like worms to the corruption of the heretical teachings, they willfully debase themselves to the level of groveling beasts (ken’yō no yakko 犬羊ノ奴). That is why, in regard to the primary task of coastal defense, there is no other alternative but warding off religion with religion (kyō o motte kyō o fusegu 教ヲ以テ教ヲ防ク). Yet who is to be responsible for that? The answer is the priests of the eight sects [of Buddhism]. Here is my view: In the past, the heretical teachings have spread before, and although [bakufu] officials eliminated it through the penalty of crucifixion, thus executing two hundred and eighty thousand souls, the poison was still left deep in people’s bones.7 It is thus only through religion that we can eradicate delusion by its roots. To do so, public officials should deliberate [on this matter], and, because Buddhism, in its Uprightness and Greatness, can indeed stop the heresy, [they should] command the priests of the eight sects and have all people in the nation follow them. Through the privilege of sectarian registry, the authorities had [priests] enlighten those who were mistakenly attached to the heretical teachings, and turned them back into people of the Land of the Gods (shinshū no tami 神州ノ民). This way, from the domain lords above to the entire people below, all in this nation firmly embraced their own sects, and the harm of the barbarians’ heretical teaching perished at last. When based on the above [history] we consider [the issue of coastal defense], [we conclude that] the task of averting religion with religion is indeed to be commanded by government officials; Buddhist priests, however, taking this up as their own mission, must [also] strive to perform in this capacity.



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By protecting the dharma in this manner, one is defending the nation through the dharma. To protect the nation through the dharma, religion must be improved, and to do so people’s hearts must be seized and their morale boosted. By seizing people’s hearts, we shall protect the nation; by boosting their morale, we shall drive away the barbarians. But how to improve religion? Well, in order to enlighten the followers, we rely entirely upon the regulations written down by the sectarian restorer8—we expound the meaning of faith in the other-power and, further, that this is the same faith that inspired the holy founder’s conversion (shūso shōnin kange 宗祖聖人勧化); [this faith] is, through the karmic powers of the great vow of Amida Buddha, the predominant condition (zōjōen 増上縁). It is the pure mind that accomplishes the Buddha’s vows, just the opposite of the deluded mind of the easily perplexed fool. Since this faith is the direct cause of salvation for all sentient beings, and the pure karma through which fools accomplish Buddhahood, you should all carefully hear the dharma and store it deep within your hearts. You will thus, needless to say, in the next life attain rebirth in the Pure Land and realize the ultimate and perfect results (gokuka 極果). In this world too, you will become focused and firm, much like the vajra. Would there be anyone in the country able to truly deceive, or antagonize, this kind of person? As stated in the Letters [by Rennyo], “[n]ext, 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.”9 That is, it is a matter of course that all commoners, even if they have not obtained faith, must fulfill their public duties and show their gratitude to the nation. This is even truer for the followers of our school, who understand this faith and have obtained so-called retribution in both this and the next world. Whereas they do so as a result of the salvific merits of the buddhas and patriarchs, this also certainly depends on the power of external protectors such as kings and ministers. Such a person, in comparison to someone who does not yet believe, should know without question the size and weight of their obligation (on no taishō keichō 恩ノ大小軽重). This is why [our] abbot (hossu 法主) should strive even further to fulfill his public duties. [. . .] Therefore, you should consider the hearing and keeping of the faith in the other-power that I have just mentioned an urgent matter. This faith is the one-mind [referred to] in the Buddhist vow of the

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other-power, just the opposite of the billions of other unfocused [states of] mind, its steadfastness being like that of the vajra. So, what are we to do about the millions of barbarians who at once approach, and who by the millions attempt to lead us astray? According to the Analects, “[t]he commander of the forces of a large state may be carried off, but the will of even a common man cannot be taken from him.”10 In terms of the great matters of death and life, facing death without any doubts has always been a constant for Buddhists, and at this point in particular, the followers of our school truly excel. Based on this [sentiment], many years ago during the Ishiyama Campaign (1570–1580), crowds of followers battled against the experienced generals of Oda Nobunaga 織田信長 (1534–1582), repeatedly frustrating his incursions and protecting their temples for over a decade. However, this was a battle that was fought out of necessity, and should not really be considered a praiseworthy aspect of our school (shūmon 宗門). Such will not be the case this time. The [act of] fending off foreign invaders—thus protecting the nation—is both public duty and holy war. Hence it is natural that, should trouble arise on our shores you shall rise up together, and without fearing for your lives, kill all barbarians amid the waves of the sea. Death is the same for everyone. Rather than collapsing into one’s bed and uselessly withering away together with the grasses and trees, one may fall under bullets in the battlefield, living [in death] as a loyal subject. To have your name continue to shine on after a thousand years, while you are reborn as a Buddha in the Pure Land: is this not akin to preserving life for a boundless eternity? If, holding on to such a doctrine, the priests of our land enlighten the country, then the followers of our school and practitioners of our faith will follow them like the wind that trails; it is easy to imagine billions together in one mind, united in truth against the enemy, advancing in great numbers out of loyalty to the ruler (kinnō no gi 勤王ノ義). That is why we should ward off the barbarians and protect the Land of the Emperor (kōkoku 皇国). It is by doing so that Buddhism will subsist alongside the nation. Hence I say: now is the time for restoring our nation. Indeed, in this very moment, Buddhism should become prosperous once again. Is it not a matter of concern that Buddhism may fall into decline when our Land of the Gods collapses? Brothers of my school, I earnestly ask that you consider and heed my thoughts. Ansei 3 (1856), Tenth Month



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Notes I would like to thank Iwata Mami (Ryukoku University) and Kirihara Kenshin (Kinjo Gakuin University) for clarifying parts of the Buppō gokokuron. This translation is based on the version included in Shūkyō to kokka 宗教 と国家, ed. Yasumaru Yoshio 安丸良夫 and Miyachi Masato 宮地正人 (Nihon kindai shisō taikei 日本近代思想大系, vol. 5) (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1988), 215–222. 1.  Biographical information on Gesshō such as that presented here can be found, for instance, in Umihara Tōru 海原徹, Gesshō: Ningen itaru tokoro seizan ari 月性：人間到る処青山有り (Kyoto: Mineruva Shobō, 2005). 2.  Margaret Mehl describes in detail the curriculum and historical context of the Zōshun’en. See her Private Academies of Chinese Learning in Meiji Japan: The Decline and Transformation of the Kangaku Juku (Copenhagen: NIAS Press, 2003), 99–104. 3.  On Takashima’s influence on late-Edo heigaku 兵学, see D. Colin Jaundrill, Samurai to Soldier: Remaking Military Service in Nineteenth-Century Japan (Ithaca, NY, and London: Cornell University Press, 2016), 20–38. 4.  Namely, inculcating the people with moral laws; changing the bushicentered military system; developing military units comprised of farmers; cutting back on extravagances and investing in artillery; enabling the manufacturing of gunpowder. See Murakami Iwatarō 村上磐太郎, “Gesshō to Akira Atsunosuke” 月性と秋良敦之助, in Ishin no senkaku: Gesshō no kenkyū 維新の先覚：月性の研究, ed. Misaka Keiji 三坂圭治 (Tokushima: Gesshō Kenshōkai [Matsuno Shoten], 1979), 241. 5.  On the differences between the two texts, see Iwata Mami 岩田真美, “Bakumatsuki Nishi Honganji to Buppō gokokuron o megutte: Gesshō ‘Gohō iken fūji’ to no sōi ni tsuite” 幕末期西本願寺と『仏法護国論』をめぐっ て：月性「護法意見封事」との相違について, Bukkyō shigaku kenkyū 佛教 史學研究 53, no. 2 (2011): 41–61. 6.  In the original: “saikoku hongoku no kanmin ni oite wa, subete jinrin yaso no michi o shiru to” 於西国本国官民、都知人倫耶蘇之道ト. Although the Japanese translation of Perry’s letter to the “emperor” (or rather, the shogun) is certainly not entirely faithful to the original, this sentence appears in the context of it being the universal way of Western nations to succor whoever, in the words of the commodore, “may be cast upon their shores.” Gesshō, however, interprets this as a testament to the fact that all Westerners are indeed Christians. For the original English, see Matthew C. Perry (comp. Francis L. Hawks), Narrative of the Expedition of an American Squadron

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to the China Seas and Japan, Performed in the Years 1852, 1853 and 1854, Under the Command of Commodore M.C. Perry, United States Navy (Washington, DC: A. O. P. Nicholson, 1856), 258–259. 7.  This is a probable reference to the number of Christians persecuted and killed after 1612, including the Shimabara Rebellion, an uprising involving mostly Catholics that took place in what is now Nagasaki Prefecture between December 1637 and April 1638. 8.  Orig. “chūkō hossu tsukuru tokoro no okite no fumi” 中興法主作ルトコロ ノ掟ノ文. Gesshō refers here to the “pastoral letters” (gobunsho 御文書 or ofumi 御文) by Honganji Patriarch Rennyo 蓮如 (1415–1499). 9.  This is a direct quotation from one of the abovementioned “pastoral letters” by Rennyo, written in Bunmei 6 (1474). See Ann T. Rogers and Minor L. Rogers, trans., Rennyo Shōnin Ofumi: The Letters of Rennyo (Berkeley, CA: Numata Center for Buddhist Translation and Research, 1996), 68 (T 2668:781b). 10.  Analects 9.26. Here I have relied on James Legge’s version. Note, however, that in his original translation this sentence appears as 9.25. See James Legge, The Life and Teachings of Confucius (London: N. Trübner & Co, 1867), 173.

chapter 2

“Upholding Faith in the Buddhadharma and Repaying the Nation” (1863) Ogawa Taidō Translated by Jacqueline I. Stone

Translator’s Introduction Ogawa Taidō 小川泰堂 (1814–1878) began his career as a scholar and physician in Edo (present-day Tokyo).1 A chance encounter in 1838 with a work by the Buddhist teacher Nichiren日蓮 (1222–1282) led him to embrace the Lotus sect (Hokkeshū 法華宗, now called Nichirenshū 日蓮宗) and commit himself to studying its doctrines. Ogawa found himself frustrated by the many transcription errors, missing characters, and other textual problems that he found in published versions of Nichi­ ren’s writings, and he vowed to produce a complete and accurate edition. The task would consume the next four decades. Ogawa traveled to temples throughout the country to compare variant transcriptions of individual writings and, where possible, consult originals. The resulting compilation, the monumental Kōso ibunroku 高祖遺文録 (Record of the founder’s writings), represents the first text-critical edition of Nichiren’s corpus and laid the groundwork for its modern scholarly study. Eager to reach ordinary people as well as scholars, Ogawa also authored the immensely popular vernacular biography Nichiren Daishi shinjitsu den日蓮大士真実伝 (True account of the Great Bodhisattva Nichiren), which helped shape modern representations of Nichiren as a patriot and protector of Japan. Nichiren, who had trained in the Tendai sect, taught a doctrine of exclusive devotion to the Lotus Sūtra, revered for its promise of universal

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Buddhahood. Tendai teachers regarded it as the Buddha’s highest and final teaching; all other sutras were provisional and incomplete. Unlike Tendai, however, which sought to encompass multiple forms of practice as expedients for persons of different capacities, Nichiren’s stance was exclusivistic. Now in the degenerate, Final Dharma Age (mappō 末法), he asserted, only the Lotus Sūtra could lead all men and women to liberation; other, provisional teachings had lost their efficacy and should be set aside. He himself taught a broadly accessible form of Lotus practice: chanting the daimoku 題目 or title of the sutra in the formula Namu Myōhō-renge-kyō 南無妙法蓮華経 (devotion to the sutra of the lotus blossom of the Wonderful Dharma). Nichiren saw the disasters confronting Japan in his day—including famines, epidemics, and the Mongol threat—as karmic retribution for widespread rejection of the Lotus Sūtra in favor of “inferior,” provisional teachings such as Pure Land and Zen. By spreading faith in the Lotus Sūtra, he taught, this world would become an ideal Buddha land. Believing that the country faced a crisis, Nichiren, in traditional Buddhist terms, rejected shōju 摂受, an inoffensive method of proselytizing by leading others gradually without initially correcting their misconceptions, and instead embraced shakubuku 折伏, an aggressively polemical approach that directly rebukes attachment to false views.2 Ogawa wrote “Upholding Faith in the Buddhadharma and Repaying the Nation” (Shinbutsu hōkoku ron 信仏報国論), excerpts from which are translated here, in 1863, five years before the Meiji Restoration, as an open letter of admonition to the Hokkeshū. Under the restraints of Tokugawa bakufu religious policy, Nichiren’s style of confrontational shakubuku had not been possible. By this point, however, the Tokugawa bakufu was clearly unable to cope with pervasive social unrest generated by domestic political tensions, economic instability, and the demands of foreign powers. Leaders of the Hokkeshū debated how Nichiren’s message should be taught in a changing world. In this essay, Ogawa argues, as had Nichiren, that the shakubuku approach suits Japan at the present time, but he interprets “shakubuku” in a novel way: not as proselytizing others, but as rigorously purifying and solidifying one’s own Lotus Sūtra practice. Otherwise, he argues, the Hokkeshū will be unable to overcome its present laxity and meet the challenges of the coming era. A sense of impending crisis infuses the work. Interpreting recent calamities as omens in a manner reminiscent of Nichiren’s own writings, Ogawa draws on cosmological notions from Buddhist and other, Chinese sources to



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predict that either an awakened priest or a sage ruler will soon appear to rectify the world. If a holy priest appears, he will excoriate the Hokkeshū for its inertia; if a sage ruler appears, he will laicize superfluous priests. Ogawa personally delivered copies of Shinbutsu hōkoku ron to head temples and leading clerics of the various Nichiren denominations. No response is recorded. Ogawa’s tract could be seen simply as one of many efforts within Buddhist communities to argue the utility of Buddhism for an emerging modern Japan and to preempt discourses of Buddhist corruption for their own programs of internal reform. But Ogawa proved prescient in foreseeing the early Meiji-period attacks on Buddhism (haibutsu kishaku 廃仏毀釈), and his efforts ultimately helped to revive an impetus toward shakubuku within the Nichiren sect. As a devotee active outside the Hokkeshū seminaries, Ogawa also exemplified a new breed of lay Buddhist scholars whose voices would become increasingly influential in Japan’s modern period.

Translation Now the country has enjoyed peace for more than two hundred years, bathed in the blessings of sagely rule. And yet we forget the debt we owe for that peace. Carried away by pride, overcome by indolence, we lament when matters do not go as we desire, resenting the heavens and maligning the world. The crazed and foolish fill the country. Though food and clothing are sufficient, miseries are many; amid an abundance of pleasures, griefs arise. Troubles began around the inauspicious year of Tenpō 7 (1836) [. . .]. In Kaei 6 (1853), a great earthquake occurred in Sagami, and in the first year of the Ansei era (1854), American warships entered Edo Bay. That year, major earthquakes occurred in several provinces, and in Ansei 2 (1855), a particularly severe one devastated Edo.3 In Ansei 3 (1856), violent rainstorms struck the Kantō region. In Ansei 5 (1858), a comet appeared, and many people perished in epidemics. In Ansei 6 (1859), there was flooding in the Kantō area. Foreigners from five countries set up trading posts in Yokohama; they prowled about at will in Musashi and Sagami. Since then the price of rice and other commodities has doubled or tripled yearly. The disasters of these past twenty-four years are too many to record. Everyone can see with their own eyes how the world’s troubles have now reached an extreme. In addition, exaggerated rumors have leaked out, reaching even the common people, that plans are afoot to unify the country and expel

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foreigners. The commoners, once peaceful and compliant, believe we stand on the verge of a crisis; distressing though it is to say­, they criticize the government and abuse officials. In the end they will revile even the ruler and despise their own country [. . .]. It is said that the country’s safety depends on the flourishing of the Buddhadharma (buppō 仏法). The great dharma of the Buddhist teaching from the outset encompasses all ten realms of existence throughout past, present, and future; it is a teaching (kyōhō 教法) that sets forth the karmic recompense for good and evil deeds without the slightest error. What can we say, then, when we consider the current state of Japan in its light? How can the country achieve peace, and how can we make its people enjoy security? If the Buddhist Way were correctly established and the country were still in disorder, then what use would the Buddhadharma be? I will set aside the other sects. I have understood that, among buddhas, Śākyamuni is the most venerable, and among teachings, the Lotus Sūtra is supreme. But what is the essential principle of the Lotus sect? In the summer of Kenchō 5 (1253), the great dharma general Nichiren first raised the banner of the five characters [Myō hō ren ge kyō 妙法 蓮華経] on the peak behind Kiyosumi temple in Awa Province.4 From that time on, he asserted that the country’s prosperity or decline, its very survival or destruction, depends on distinguishing truth from error in the reception of the Buddhist teachings. Sounding his golden drum, he rebuked the other sects for their attachment to provisional doctrines (gonmon 権門). Although in principle error should not prevail over truth, it was an age when evil flourished and good was slight, so he often suffered at the hands of the misguided followers of sects based on provisional teachings. On two occasions he was nearly put to death by the sword, and twice he was exiled. Just when it seemed that his teaching had no hope of prospering and that Śākyamuni Buddha’s mandate delivered [at the Lotus assembly] on Eagle Peak and the predictions made by all the other assembled buddhas [that the Lotus Sūtra would one day spread] would amount to no more than foam on the waters, a great earthquake struck Kamakura on the first day of the eighth month of Shōka 1 (1257), followed by another on the twenty-third. [. . .] From the Shōgen era (1259–1260), serious famine and epidemics spread throughout the realm, and in Bun’ei 1 (1264), a huge comet crossed the sky. Along with battles within the [ruling] Hōjō house and attacks by Mongol barbarians, the troubles facing the country were too many to count. They occurred solely because the deities of heaven and earth



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were furious that the true dharma had not been established and visited disaster upon the country to punish it. All this is clearly explained in the Risshō ankoku ron 立正安国論 (Establishing the true dharma and bringing peace to the realm).5 More than five hundred years have passed since then, and yet the disasters facing the country in the founder’s time and the misfortunes of recent eras do not seem all that different. If the nationwide crises of the past stemmed from neglect of the true dharma, then the disasters of the present must arise for the same reason. [. . .] The practice for protecting the nation has two forms. To practice the true and provisional together is called shōju. To discard the provisional and cultivate only the true is called shakubuku. In general, the 2,000 years of the True and Semblance Dharma ages following the Buddha’s nirvāṇa were the time for shōju, while the 10,000 years of the Final Dharma Age are defined as the time for shakubuku.6 This is a chief principle of our sect. The Shōka through Bun’ei eras (1257–1275), when our teacher Nichiren was propagating the dharma, correspond to the beginning of the 10,000 years of the Final Dharma Age and the middle of the fifth 500-year period.7 Because this was the beginning of the time when the single truth of the Lotus Sūtra was to be spread worldwide, he established shakubuku alone as his practice. The last of the five 500-year periods mentioned in the Buddhist teachings came to an end in Tenbun 2 (1533). From that time until the present year of Bunkyū 3 (1863), some 320 years [sic] have passed. Uneducated followers put forth varying opinions: Some say that because Nichiren’s time was the founding period, it was natural that he embraced shakubuku, but since now the great dharma has already spread throughout the country, shōju should be practiced. Others say that because ours is an age when many provisional teachings still flourish, shōju and shakubuku should be practiced concurrently, both being essential, like the two wheels of a cart. Still others say that one should practice shakubuku inwardly but outwardly engage in shōju, or that one should accord with the capacity of individuals, practicing shōju some seventy percent of the time and shakubuku the remaining thirty. Thus they differ only superficially and fail to reach a proper conclusion. [. . .] Our founder wrote: “In terms of practice, there are both shōju and shakubuku. It is wrong to practice shakubuku when shōju is appropriate. It is likewise mistaken to practice shōju at a time suited to shakubuku. Is our present age a time for shōju or for shakubuku? One should

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determine this first of all. [. . .]8 Those who, ignorant of this principle, err in choosing between the shōju and shakubuku paths cannot expect to attain the Way [. . .].”9 If one wishes to know which method to adopt, one should understand the doctrine of sowing, cultivating, and harvesting (shu juku datsu 種熟脱). Beings who lived during the two thousand years of the True and Semblance Dharma ages had already received the seed of the Wonderful Dharma during the Buddha’s lifetime.10 Thus their case is like nurturing sprouts of barley or millet that have been planted in a field. One protects those seeds, adding fertilizer and shielding them from the wind, and waits until they bear grain. Since these individuals can be led to Buddhahood without discriminating between provisional and true teachings, for their sake one employs nenbutsu 念仏, Zen, or whatever means will foster the Buddha-seed until it has matured. Their capacity belongs to the categories of cultivating and harvesting; the method employed with them is shōju; and the time for its practice is the True and Semblance Dharma ages. But now we are in the third period, at the beginning of the Final Dharma Age, when the seed of Buddhahood, the cause of wondrous awakening, must be planted in the minds of those beings who have never before received it. One must therefore take care not to mix the [seeds of the] provisional teachings of other sects, which are like useless weeds, with the rice that is the seed of the Wonderful Dharma. The Lotus Sūtra states, “Throughout the Buddha lands of the ten directions, there is the dharma of only one vehicle,” and, “There are not two, nor are there three.”11 Upholding this one great vehicle alone must be established as the practice for the ten thousand years of the Final Dharma Age. The capacity of persons to whom it is suited corresponds to the category called sowing (geshu 下種); its method is shakubuku; and its time is the Final Dharma Age. The two approaches are as far apart as heaven and earth and should be clearly differentiated, like front and back, or water and fire. This being so, when one looks upward toward signs in the heavens or casts one’s eyes down to omens upon the earth and reflects on the disorder within our country and the threat of enemies from abroad, then one might think that the time has come when, just like our founder Nichiren, we should directly admonish the ruler, raising high the banner of subjugating the provisional teachings and engaging in a great dharma battle, ready to give our lives for the spread of the true teaching. But this would be mistaken. The reason is that, even though this great dharma



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has not yet spread to all other countries, there is no place in the [more than] sixty provinces of Japan, however remote, where the profound title of the Lotus Sūtra has not reached, no corner to which it has not spread. Whether they have taken faith in it or not, all persons without exception have formed an auspicious connection with it. This is something unprecedented. Hasn’t it come about precisely because this is a wondrous land with a connection to the Mahāyāna, the [Buddha’s] “original land” (hongoku 本国) where Bodhisattva Superior Conduct (Jōgyō bosatsu 上行菩薩)12 manifested his traces? [. . .] Or one might think that in this age one should discard shakubuku and practice shōju, but that is not correct either. Now is precisely the time for shakubuku. [Nichiren’s] Opening of the Eyes says that [even in mappō], shōju is to be used in countries that are evil [merely out of ignorance of the dharma], while shakubuku should be used in countries where the dharma is actively maligned, and that one should determine which category now applies.13 At present, the followers of sects based on provisional teachings outnumber us ten to one, and they have vigorously spread the sutras on which they rely. Therefore, there is not a hairbreadth’s room for compromise in establishing shakubuku as the appropriate method. Nonetheless, there is a difference between the founder Nichiren’s age and our own in terms of how shakubuku should be practiced. I refer to the distinction between self-cultivation ( jigyō 自行) and teaching others (keta 化他). To insist absolutely on the single truth, broadly admonishing the world against the confusion of true and provisional as our founder Nichiren did, is shakubuku for the purpose of teaching others. To embrace only the Lotus Sūtra oneself, not mixing it with the practices of other, provisional teachings, but upholding it firmly just as it prescribes, is the shakubuku of self-cultivation. Thus within the single practice of shakubuku there are these two approaches, and one should choose between them according to the time and the people’s capacity. [. . .] The thousands and tens of thousands of our sects’ priests and lay supporters should together devote themselves to the shakubuku of selfcultivation as the practice meeting the needs of our time and country. Now is precisely the time to protect and foster the great dharma, not for a moment leaving cause for regret. One should be diligent in chanting the daimoku and reciting the Lotus Sūtra and also cultivate good deeds and Buddhist works. If one still has energy to spare, one should read books, listen to the Way, teach it in the world and guide others, single-mindedly promoting the Buddhist Way so that no harm will come to the ruler’s

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law (ōbō 王法). If our many tens of thousands of priests and lay believers unite the power of their pure and firm faith to protect the realm, then the power of the sutra and the power of the Buddha will surely respond. The calamities in the heavens and on earth will naturally be rectified; the sun and moon will shine bright and clear, and the wind and rain will not deviate from their proper season. The people’s hearts will become tractable, and thus they will gradually abandon evil ways. Without coercion, they will yield; without being taught, they will transform. Peace will prevail throughout the four seas, as in the days of [the ideal Chinese sage kings] Yao and Shun. Though this approach differs outwardly from that of our founder Nichiren when in the past he admonished high and low with his Risshō ankoku ron, there is not the slightest disparity in terms of its benefit as the practice of the Buddha’s original disciples (honge 本化) that befits the time. How lamentable that as the world declines, priests exert themselves in study [solely] to become abbots of leading temples. Those of the upper ranks seek as the honor of a lifetime to shine resplendently at court or in the shogun’s palace, while those of the middle and lower ranks indulge in women and liquor; they chant the daimoku and recite the sutra only to make a living, ignoring the purpose of renunciation. Their adorning of halls and stūpas and performances of rituals and ceremonies are in the end no more than baiting hooks to pull in donations. As for their sermons and displays of rare temple images (kaichō 開 帳): when generously construed, one could say that such activities serve to instruct others and enable them to form good karmic connections, but when viewed more strictly, they are no different from drumming up patronage for wrestling matches or theatrical performances.14 And all this is to say nothing of the laity, who, ignorant of the original meaning of the Buddhist Way, pray solely to prosper in the present world. They do not know what the Buddhadharma is; they do not understand what the Lotus Sūtra teaches. Even if such priests and laypersons were to fill the country, one could not equate that with the spread of the Lotus Sūtra. It would be like millet and barley withering in the autumn fields without reaching fruition. Though the leaves might rustle loudly, there would be nothing to harvest; it would be impossible for the Buddha­ dharma to benefit the country [. . .]. Now we have reached the turn of another five-hundred-year period, when the ruler’s law and the Buddhadharma must undergo great change. Surely it is time for either a wise leader or a holy priest to make an



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appearance and rectify the worldly and Buddhist realms. While the priests and laity of the Lotus sect cling in vain to the outmoded ways of the last five hundred years, lacking the humility to reflect and heedlessly passing the months and years, a great transformation will occur. If a sage priest appears within the dharma, then, just as the ninety-five heterodox teachers were toppled by Śākyamuni Buddha; the three southern and seven northern schools were rebuked by [the Chinese Tiantai founder] Zhiyi 智顗 (538–597); the six sects and seven great temples [of Nara] were attacked by [the Japanese Tendai founder] Saichō 最澄 (766/767– 822); and the eight sects were refuted by our founder Nichiren, the priests and laity of our present Lotus sect will be reduced to dust. Or if a wise ruler appears within the worldly realm, he will act [. . .] like Emperor Wuzong of the Tang, who in the eighth month of the fifth year of Huichang (845) seized and demolished more than 4,600 major temples and 40,000 smaller ones, returning 260,500 priests and nuns to lay life. [. . .] From the standpoint of the clerics, such actions were an evil that destroyed the Buddhadharma, but from the ruler’s standpoint, one could say they were sound policy that brought order to the world and security to the people. From the outset, is it not better for the prosperity of both Buddhism and the worldly law that one uproot weeds that resemble seedlings, and remove traitors who resemble priests? [. . .] Suppose there were even one person in a hundred million able to understand [the Buddha and Nichiren’s admonitions] and grasp the essence of the great dharma, practice self-discipline, pursue his profession without becoming defiled by either the three poisons [of greed, anger, and ignorance] or slander of the dharma, and carry out shakubuku as self-cultivation without slackening. While the minute power of that single person’s faith might be inadequate to protect the realm, such a Buddhist practitioner knows his indebtedness and repays the nation, thus standing in the true lineage of the Lotus Sūtra. Have you heard the popular tale about the country of the one-eyed?15 In the southern sea, there is a solitary island whose inhabitants have but one eye each. [. . .] A certain man thought that if only he could capture one of those people and exhibit him at a fair, he could make his fortune. Setting sail, he at length arrived at the island, intent on somehow abducting one of the inhabitants. But before he could do so, he was spotted by the island’s residents, who, struck by the rarity of a two-eyed man, immediately seized him, dragged him to the marketplace, and displayed him at a fair for their entertainment. People of the Lotus sect

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today are like that man. They obsess about converting the people of other sects but do not discard the provisional and uphold the true in their own practice. Merely chanting the daimoku mindlessly, they have not the slightest resolve. When beguiled by others, they are easily drawn into slander of the true dharma. [. . .] Rather than trying to steal another’s single eye, one should take care not to lose the two one has! When King Wu of the Zhou dynasty (r. ca. 1046–1043 BCE) passed away, his son, King Cheng, was not yet of age, so Wu’s younger brother, Duke Dan of the Zhou, acted as regent. He said, “I do not strive to make King Cheng into King Wu. I strive only to make King Cheng into King Cheng.”16 These words of the sage duke are truly admirable and apply to the Lotus sect today. Rather than trying to make other sects into our own, we should make the Lotus sect worthy of its name [. . .].

Notes This translation is based on excerpts from Ogawa Taidō zenshū 小川泰堂全 集, Rongi hen 論義篇 (Tokyo: Tendensha, 1991), 131–140. 1.  For more on Ogawa Taidō, see Ogawa Yukio 小川雪夫, Ogawa Taidō den 小川泰堂伝 (Tokyo: Kinseisha, 1967); Ishikawa Kōmei 石川康明, “Ogawa Taidō: Nichiren Daishizō no shōdōsha” 小川泰堂：日蓮大士像の唱導者, in Kindai Nichiren kyōdan no shisōka 近代日蓮教団の思想家, ed. Nakano Kyōtoku 中濃教篤 (Tokyo: Kokusho Kankōkai, 1977), 71–114; and Jacqueline Stone ジ ャクリーン・ストーン, “Ishin zengo no Nichirenshū ni miru kokka to Hokekyō: Ogawa Taidō o chūshin ni” 維新前後の日蓮宗に見る国家と法華 経：小川泰堂を中心に, trans. Kirihara Kenshin 桐原健真, in Kami to hotoke no bakumatsu ishin: Kōsaku suru shūkyō sekai カミとホトケの幕末維新：交錯 する宗教世界, ed. Iwata Mami 岩田真美 and Kirihara Kenshin (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2018), 197–223. 2.  For the role of shakubuku in the Lotus sect throughout its history, see Jacqueline Stone, “Rebuking the Enemies of the Lotus: Nichirenist Exclusivism in Historical Perspective,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 21, no. 2–3 (1994): 231–259. 3.  As a physician, Ogawa personally treated victims of the 1853 and 1855 earthquakes. 4.  A reference to Nichiren’s first chanting of the daimoku. The temple name Kiyosumidera 清澄寺 is also pronounced Seichōji. 5.  Nichiren submitted this admonitory treatise to the shogunate in 1260. It represents his first public remonstration with the authorities to cease



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support for priests espousing provisional doctrines and to embrace the Lotus Sūtra alone, in order to restore tranquility to the realm. He was prompted to write it by the sufferings he witnessed following the Shōka earthquake. 6.  The True, Semblance, and Final Dharma ages represent three successive stages in the decline of human receptivity to the Buddha’s teachings after his final nirvāṇa. Ogawa follows Nichiren in identifying the True and Semblance Dharma ages as a time for shōju, and the Final Dharma Age, for shakubuku. 7.  The last of five 500-year periods following the Buddha’s nirvāṇa and a time of dissension among his followers, as predicted in the Yuezang fen 月 蔵分 section of the Daji jing 大集経 (T 397, 13:363a29–b5). It corresponds to the beginning of mappō, which in Japan was said to have commenced in 1052. Nichiren believed that he was living in the last of the five 500-year periods. Ogawa calculates that period as ending in 1533, which would be 330 years before 1863, when he wrote Upholding Faith in the Buddhadharma and Repaying the Nation. The mention below of “320 years” appears to be an error in the printed text. 8.  Abridgement of Nichiren quote by Ogawa. 9.  Shōgu mondō shō 聖愚問答鈔, Shōwa teihon Nichiren Shōnin ibun 昭和定 本日蓮聖人遺文 (hereafter Teihon), ed. Risshō Daigaku Nichiren Kyōgaku Kenkyūjo 立正大学日蓮教学研究所 (Minobu-chō, Yamanashi Prefecture: Minobusan Kuonji, 1952–1959; rev. ed. 1988), vol. 1, 381, 382. 10.  The Chinese Tiantai patriarch Zhiyi (538–597) likened the Buddha’s teaching process to sowing the seed of awakening, cultivating it through subsequent teachings, and finally reaping the harvest of liberation. Ogawa follows Nichiren’s interpretation, which sees the Lotus Sūtra as planting the initial seed of Buddhahood. 11.  T 262, 9:8a17–18.　 12.  Bodhisattva Superior Conduct is the leader of the Buddha’s “original disciples” referred to below, those bodhisattvas entrusted by Śākyamuni with propagating the Lotus Sūtra in an evil age after his nirvāṇa. Nichiren tradition identifies him with this bodhisattva. 13.  Kaimoku shō 開目抄, Teihon 1: 606. 14.  Kaichō were also singled out as a harmful practice incompatible with modernity by the Jōdo Shinshū priest Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷 in 1872. See Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015), 106. 15.  “Ichigankoku” 一眼国, a well-known title in the repertoire of rakugo 落語, a traditional form of Japanese storytelling performance.

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16.  Source unidentified. The Duke of Zhou is celebrated as a Chinese cultural hero and exemplary ruler who helped solidify the kingdom of Zhou established by his elder brother King Wu. Some early Chinese accounts say that, after Wu’s death, the Duke ascended the throne in place of Wu’s underage son, in order to forestall rebellions and consolidate the realm. Other versions represent him as a loyal regent who fostered the young prince without taking the throne himself. Inoue Gengo 井上源吾 suggests that the divergence stems from the differing historical circumstances and political ideals of early commentators in the fourth and third centuries BCE (“Shūkō sessei setsuwa no seiritsu” 周公摂政説話の成立, Jinbun kagaku kenkyū hōkoku 人文科学研究報告 7 [1957]: 8–25). In Japan, images of the Duke as a sage minister were well established. Ogawa’s point is to show him as encouraging the young prince’s own latent strengths rather than attempting to force him into his father’s mold.

chapter 3

“Lectures on the Three Articles of Instruction” (1873) Higuchi Ryūon Translated by Hans Martin Krämer

Translator’s Introduction Religious policy making in the Meiji period began with the decrees to separate Shinto and Buddhism in April 1868, which resulted in the widespread destruction of Buddhist buildings and artifacts and the persecution of Buddhist priests. It was still within this atmosphere that religious policy was institutionalized under the leadership of the restoration Shintoists in the new government, starting with the establishment of the Department of Divinity (Jingikan 神祇官) in June 1868.1 The department provided for “missionaries” (senkyōshi 宣教師), whose task was to explain the ideological background of the new regime to the people and to prevent Christianity from making inroads in the country. Four years later, when the anti-Buddhist wave of the first months of the Meiji period had abated, the department was first demoted and then abolished, and a Ministry of Instruction (Kyōbushō 教部省) installed, initially with the express support of Buddhists. Although this ministry was dissolved in 1877, the Great Promulgation Campaign (daikyō senpu undō 大教宣布運動), which the ministry had started in 1872, continued to live on until 1884. The campaign was conducted by national proselytizers (kyōdōshoku 教導職), an office limited to those who could pass an examination and divided into clearly defined ranks. The Great Teaching Institute (Daikyōin, also pronounced Taikyōin 大教院), specifically created for the task, supervised around seven thousand national

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proselytizers in 1874, a number that swelled to one hundred thousand in 1880, of which about 20 percent were Shinto priests.2 Within this campaign the Three Articles of Instruction (sanjō kyōsoku 三条教則) were formulated in 1872, to be used as maxims to enlighten and guide the populace. Although Buddhists had helped the Ministry of Instruction to come about, the Three Articles had no direct Buddhist content; instead, they could be read as openly Shintoist: Art. 1: To embody reverence for the deities and love of the country Art. 2: To clarify the principles of heaven and the way of humanity Art. 3: To revere and assist the emperor and obey the will of the court Authors from all Buddhist sects produced “creative, or desperate Buddhistic renditions”3 of the clearly Shintoist elements, especially those of the first article. Among those who contributed to this genre was Higuchi Ryūon 樋口竜温 (1800–1885) of the Ōtani branch of Jōdo Shinshū, “one of the premier scholar-priests deeply versed in doctrine during the time when consciousness to protect the dharma [gohō 護法] was strong.”4 Ryūon was born in 1800 in Aizu, as the son of a priest, and studied under Tokuryū 徳竜 (1772–1858) at Muishinji Temple 無為信寺 in Echigo as well as at the Higashi Honganji’s Kyoto academy Takakura Gakuryō 高倉学寮, before becoming the resident priest of Enkōji 円光 寺 in Kyoto.5 From the age of fifty, he started lecturing at the Takakura Gakuryō, where he rose to the rank of a permanent lecturer (kōji 講師) in 1865. As the text translated here also reveals, Ryūon was enlisted as a national proselytizer in the Great Teaching Campaign, originally ranked as a middle lecturer (chūkōgi 中講義), but eventually rising to the sixth highest rank of an extraordinary lower instructor (gon-shōkyōsei 権少教 正). Ryūon died in 1885, shortly after the Great Teaching Campaign had been stopped, having authored more than forty works during his lifetime, among which those on refuting “heresies” (Christianity as well as certain brands of Shinto and Confucianism) figure prominently. Indeed, the refutation of Christianity and the radical type of Shintoism inspired by kokugaku 国学 scholars is also at the heart of the text translated here, an early contribution to the body of texts interpreting the Three Articles of Instruction from a Buddhist point of view. The text translated below was not published at its time, but is rather a collection of notes taken during lectures by Ryūon directed at fellow Buddhist



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priests in January 1873. Given its audience, the text “is a rare work, having value as a fine document from which we can hear the raw voice of the true colors of the Buddhist world as it was just eight months after the promulgation of the Three Articles of Instruction.”6 The text is also noteworthy as an attempt by a high-ranking Shinshū scholar to come to terms with the new conditions placed upon institutionalized Buddhism in early 1870s Japan. Ryūon recalibrates the position of Buddhism within the traditional model of the three teachings (sankyō 三教), as well as vis-à-vis Christianity, and struggles with the new concept of “religion” (kyōhō 教法, in his translation). Thus, while Ryūon remains firmly within older conceptions of protecting the dharma, he is also in his confrontation with early Meiji religious policy staking out new ground, such as when he argues for the utility of religion for the nation, drawing his inspiration from knowledge about the West.

Translation The Three Articles of Instruction by the Ministry of Instruction 13 January 1873 at Takakura Okunenji7 As dictated by the eminent priest Kōzan’in Ryūon, middle lecturer8

First Meeting Article 1: To embody reverence for the deities (kami 神) and love of the country. Since the Ministry of Instruction (Kyōbushō) was established at the Imperial court9 in the third month of the last year,10 the Three Articles of Instruction (sankajō no gokyōsoku 三ヶ条の御教則) were proclaimed and, taking these as the fundament of religion (kyōhō no kihon 教法ノ基 本), they shall be spread widely not only into the four corners and among all people of our Imperial nation, but they shall also be made known to the various inhabitants of all the countries across the seas. [As for] these Great Rules, know that they are not necessarily easy to understand. Through the Ministry of Instruction, Shinto and Buddhist priests have been summoned and by Imperial command ordered into fourteen ranks of national proselytizers (kyōdōshoku). Regarding Buddhist priests, temple heads of all sects as well as those learned in their sectarian doctrines, men of high moral standing, and those steeped in administrative

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affairs have been selected and made to proselytize widely, based on those three articles. Yet these articles have been compressed into just three sentences, and while the words seem accessible, their sense is remote; while the text seems shallow, its meaning is profound. There is the saying “brevity is the soul of wit”11—indeed, how could one give out these articles to the common people far and wide, men and women, young and old, and thus direct their hearts, if one were to employ long-winded empty talk? I shall explain later on why one should loathe cumbersome talk without substance. Yet today, in the time of the restoration of Imperial rule and renewal of the one hundred ways, these three articles show the correct path to all nations, [as] their meaning is indeed profound. Therefore, although some speak without considering the Imperial meaning, producing commentaries and expounding [upon the Three Articles] based on their own speculations, there must be no mistakes when doing so. Our Shinshū, in particular, must be attentive to this issue in a way different from that in other sects.12 It is for this reason that I, desiring to spell out a general outline of the Three Articles, have divided my explanation into two parts. The first is a general summary, the second a commentary along the text. [. . .] In explaining them, I will distinguish between a general and three particular aspects. As for the general aspect: to govern a nation, one must necessarily rely upon a religion (kyōhō). If there is no teaching (oshie 教),13 government (matsurigoto 政) cannot be conducted, and the people have nowhere to settle: this is like taming a horse without a bridle. Therefore, a teaching is the foundation for governing a country. Currently, all countries of the West have their respective teachings. One says that a country prospers only if its teaching prospers. China and India, for instance, also have their respective teachings. In [ancient] India there were, even before the appearance of the Buddha, moral prescriptions for virtuous rulers (rinnō jūzen 輪王十善). After the Buddha’s appearance, however, the kings of the sixteen great kingdoms all ruled after receiving the Buddhist teachings. For this reason, the Buddha frequently taught the royal law (ōbō 王法).14 This is the correct religion for India. In China, the teachings of the sages were divided between dozens of houses and currents, but Confucianism ( judō 儒道) was considered to be the religion whereby to properly govern the nation. As the correct religion, Confucianism was transmitted by the sages and handed down to them by the Three Sovereigns and Five



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Emperors, who, following Heaven, erected the center of the universe, as well as to the Duke of Zhou and Confucius. Yet, the countries of the West have now all risen and are spreading their respective religions. Presently, since the times are thus that our Imperial nation is conducting traffic with all countries and civilization is progressing, a religion must be newly conceived for our nation. Although it is clear that this should be the Imperial teaching (kōkyō 皇教) springing forth from the great way that is unique to our Imperial nation, it is these Three Articles of Instruction that put this [i.e., the Imperial teaching] into practice and lead the myriad people of our nation on the correct path to pursue. You should therefore know that these rules do not only hand down a teaching, but also form the basis of a religion. Question: In our Imperial nation, up to now the three teachings of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism have moved along together in aiding the nation. Royal law has been wielded by employing these three. Is this not precisely the religion of our Imperial nation? How is this different from the Three Articles that have now been decreed? Answer: Since olden times in our Imperial nation, three ways have been used together in governing the nation. The source of this is clearly Shōtoku Taishi, who morally cultivated (kyōka 教化) the hearts of the people not only by wholly supporting Shinto, but also by setting rituals using Confucianism and by respecting Buddhism. This has been unwaveringly the case for the over 1,000 years since then. Yet, now that is has come to today’s renewal of civilization, it should not be strange that we can no longer make use of these same old rites (kyūgi 旧儀). Neither, however, can they be disposed of. There are some things that should not be used even after having discarded their shortcomings and kept their strengths, because in the end they turn out to be cumbersome and convoluted. If one still extols such things, will they not cause mischief, giving rise to evil customs and skewed theories? Should one not rather let go of them entirely, as they will only create harm for the nation? Question: Is not Shinto the teaching of our Imperial nation? If so, this should mean that the Articles are decidedly about Shinto. How can there exist two different teachings for our Imperial nation? Answer: Well, since the Imperial nation of the Imperial teaching is straightforwardly the nation of the gods (shinkoku 神国), one could also

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call these Articles Shinto. Yet, there is a reason why they are not the same as that teaching that we commonly call Shinto, which is as follows. What we conventionally call Shinto is really one of three blended ways of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism, and only called Shinto when juxtaposed to Confucianism and Buddhism. Since one establishes Shinto as a separate entity only when blending it with Buddhism or mixing it with Confucianism, the Three Articles are not the same as Shinto. If that is so, then the recent followers of Motoori [Norinaga] 本居宣長 (1730–1801) and Hirata [Atsutane] 平田篤胤 (1776–1843) are simply wrong when they claim that the Three Articles are entirely the same as that which they refer to as the study of the Imperial nation (kōkoku no gaku 皇国の学). Even though these fellows believe they have attained the true meaning of the way of our Imperial nation by flaunting their study of the Imperial court (kōchōgaku 皇朝学), theirs is an extremely skewed theory, not a balanced one we could utter toward other nations (bankoku 万国). Also, the “restoration” ( fukko 復古) that they have been talking about is not the same as the current so-called restoration. Theirs is simply the desire to go back to those times of old when Confucianism and Buddhism had not yet made their way to our Imperial nation, loathing, as they do, these two like poison, and they do not even want it [Shinto] to become something like a teaching. In the olden times of our Imperial nation, we did not even have a word for “way.” Thus, although a way certainly existed, there was no name for it. And since they say a good country does not need a teaching, how much more is the teaching that has been set up by the Ministry of Instruction inconsistent with their argument! Since it is a skewed theory to begin with, it goes without saying that one cannot rely upon it in the open and fair climate of enlightenment and renewal of today. There is thus no need to loathe them [the restoration Shintoists], but they will engineer their own defeat. Since the Three Articles are the teaching of our Imperial nation, it is therefore impossible to rule the nation without this teaching. With the above, I end the general aspect of my explanation on the deep significance of religion.

Second Meeting If we explain the deep significance of religion separately and in detail, we can identify three intentions to the first article: 1) endorsing the



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substance [of the teachings], 2) maintaining the hearts of the people, and 3) confronting the foreign teaching [of Christianity] face-to-face. These three intentions are the ground upon which the Three Articles have been established. First, in relation to endorsing the substance: as the fundament upon which we can expand the Imperial way and endorse the nation, leading the myriad people, religion needs to be explained. Religion, which can guide and admonish the people, must therefore be vast. Yet, these articles have now been handed down upon us putting forth only the most crucial points. The text is thus brief and compressed into merely three articles. One knows this also from noticeboards the prefectures set up: if the articles are complicated, it becomes easier to break them. There have been examples of this in the past. Accordingly, as these Three Articles of Instruction were handed down, the text was abbreviated, although their meaning remains complete. Yet clever people, especially those styling themselves Confucianists, think that there is something lacking in the articles promulgated by the Ministry of Instruction, or find them shallow. There are those who think the articles are much too brief to reach foreign countries as well. This is a mistake. In this text there is no need for further embellishment: it communicates the essence, that is, the magnificent plan for the renewal of Imperial rule. These Three Articles, used [by our government] for proselytizing, were cleansed of everything that was complicated in Confucianism, and also of all that has come to be called Shinto in our country.15 You should know that if one does not pay attention to this but instead sees deficits in these items of instruction, or if one thinks of them lightly, this means that one still clings to the old evils (kyūhei 旧弊).16 You should therefore know that these Three Articles serve the goal to make known just the most important points. Second, as for maintaining the hearts of the people: among the populace there are rich and poor, wise and ignorant—their qualities are not the same. Yet there is no denying that the majority of the common people are ignorant and foolish, and that these ignorant people form the base of the country. The people are like water, the ruler is like a boat: the boat goes forward through the water. Yet, if the water is unruly, the boat topples over.17 Therefore, one must fear the water. There is nothing a ruler must be more worried about than unsettling the direction of people’s minds. The will of even a common man cannot be taken from him.18

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It is therefore of utmost importance to maintain the people’s hearts. Especially since we now live in times of international exchange, the goal of a rich nation and a strong army19 will not be attained if the hearts of the people are not unified. You should therefore know that the Three Articles of Instruction have the goal to persuade the common folk that civilization and enlightenment issue forth from the principles of nature, first by making their minds converge on revering the deities and loving the nation,20 then by clarifying the principles of Heaven and the way of man.21 Recently, Shinto and Buddhist priests have been ordered to proselytize. Through this, you should know, the hearts of the people are to be maintained. There is nothing the people honor more than the deities and buddhas. It goes without saying that the deities are honorable. As for the buddhas, for over a thousand years they have deeply entered into the hearts of the people and are thus honored. It is clear from our national history that since olden times, generations of emperors have worshipped them.22 Deities and buddhas are also the object of honor in proverbs, and one also turns to them when praying for luck or to ward off disasters. Accordingly, even if one does not discard Confucianism wholly, it is Shinto and Buddhist priests that are employed to convey the teaching to the common folk. You should know that the goal of this is entirely to maintain the hearts of the people. Third, as for confronting the foreign teaching face-to-face: Each Western country has its religion, and if its teaching is appropriate to the hearts of the common folk, that country prospers. Therefore, we must also from now on have in our Imperial nation a religion responding to the hearts of the common folk. Now, there exist in our Imperial nation traditionally three teachings, but in today’s world of civilization and enlightenment, this is not appropriate, because it is too complicated and indirect. This is why those Three Articles have been newly handed down upon us in order to expound on the way of our Imperial nation. It is here that the words “revere the deities and love the nation” are valuable beyond price. Even though I said above that the various Western countries each had their respective religion, everyone today knows about the god they worship: it is a single true god, indeed to be feared. Now, we daily advance our knowledge anew and progress toward civilization, and we sustain our Imperial government by selecting the strengths of European systems. Yet, there are deep reasons why we must not employ their religion in our country. This is why “revere the deities



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and love the nation” has been made the fundament of our teaching. Furthermore, you should know that another reason for making Shinto and Buddhist priests proselytize is the idea that we should confront the foreign countries face-to-face. Originally, that foreign teaching sent shock waves through India, having come into being in western India23 and established its teaching by plagiarizing Buddhism, and only later did it spread to the West. Since it turns the hearts of the people by speaking of nothing but Hell and Heaven, Confucianism is by no means able to confront it. You should therefore know that it is truly important to confront the foreign countries with those Three Articles. I cannot talk about this in detail now. With this, the explanation of the origins of the Three Articles, both the general and the particular aspects, comes to a close.

Notes This translation is based on Higuchi Ryūon 樋口竜温, “Kyōsoku sanjō kōjutsu” 教則三条講述, in Sanjō kyōsoku engisho shiryō shū 三条教則衍義書資 料集, vol. 2 (Tokyo: Meiji Seitoku Kinen Gakkai, 2007), 72–107. Original from 1873. The translated passages were taken from pp. 72–76. 1.  The Department had started out as the Jingi Jimuka 神祇事務科 in February 1868 and been briefly reorganized as the Jingi Jimukyoku 神祇事 務局 before becoming the Jingikan in June 1868. 2.  General information on the Great Promulgation Campaign may be gleaned from Helen Hardacre, Shintō and the State: 1868–1988 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989), 42–48. The figures are from Yasumaru Yoshio, Kamigami no Meiji ishin (Tokyo: Iwanami, 1979), 183. 3.  James Edward Ketelaar, Of Heretics and Martyrs in Meiji Japan: Buddhism and Its Persecution (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990), 122. 4.  Miyake Moritsune 三宅守常, ed., Sanjō kyōsoku engisho shiryō shū 三条 教則衍義書資料集, vol. 2, 1090. 5.  More biographical information may be gleaned from “Higuchi Ryūon” 樋口龍温, in Shinshū daijiten 真宗大辞典, vol. 3, ed. Okamura Shūsatsu 岡村周薩 (Kainan: Shinshū daijiten kankōkai, 1937), 1817–1818. 6.  Miyake, Sanjō, 1093. 7.  Okunenji 憶念寺 is a Shinshū Ōtani-ha temple in Kyōto, on Takakura-dōri. 8.  Ninth out of 14 kyōdōshoku ranks. 9.  Metonymously used to refer to the new central government.

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10.  The Ministry of Instruction was established on the 14th day of the 3rd month of the 5th year of Meiji, according to the lunar calendar, i.e., on April 21, 1872. 11.  Literally: “The necessary words should not become convoluted.” 12.  Ryūon does not specify why that would be the case, but one can surmise that it is because of the history of the rejection of Shinto deity worship in the Shinshū. See Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015), 46–50. 13.  Throughout the text, Ryūon distinguishes between kyōhō and oshie (or kyō), although the precise nature of the distinction is not always clear, as in the passage here. In this translation, kyōhō is rendered as “religion(s),” while oshie/kyō is given as “teaching(s).” 14.  Within the dichotomous formula ōbō buppō 王法仏法 (Royal Law and Buddhadharma), ōbō stands for the secular authority or the worldly realm. See Krämer, Shimaji, 124–129. 15.  This is a somewhat surprising statement, given the overtly Shinto nature of the Three Articles of Instruction. What Ryūon might be saying is that all of those things that have (to his mind) falsely been claimed in the name of Shinto, such as the national learning established by the Hirata School mentioned above, have been ignored when the government formulated the Three Articles. 16.  This is the same term used in the Edict to Restore Imperial Rule (Ōsei fukko no daigōrei 王政復古の大号令), promulgated on January 3, 1868, to refer to the “evil customs of old” that need to be swept away. 17.  Paraphrased from the original Xunzi quote Jun zhe zhou ye shuren zhe shui ye. Shui ze zai zhou, shui ze fu zhou 君者舟也庶人者水也。水則載舟水則 覆舟 (Xunzi IX:5). 18.  Pifu zhi buke duo 匹夫志不可奪. Slightly changed word order from original Lunyu quote Sanjun ke duo shuai ye. Pifu buke duo zhi ye 三軍可奪帥 也。匹夫不可奪志也 (Lunyu IX:26). In James Legge’s translation: “The commander of the forces of a large state may be carried off, but the will of even a common man cannot be taken from him.” 19.  Fukoku kyōhei 富国強兵. The origins of the slogan precede the modern period, but it was used by the new Meiji government to rally support for its policies. 20.  Keishin aikoku 敬神愛国 (i.e., the first of the Three Articles). 21.  Tenri jindō o akiraka ni shite 天理人道を明にして (i.e., the second of the Three Articles). 22.  The grammatical object is not explicitly given in this sentence, so it is unclear whether Ryūon refers to Buddhism and Shinto (the context of the passage), or just to Buddhism (the context of the immediately



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preceding sentence). The question is relevant because of the conscious separation of the Imperial house from Buddhism the government pursued just at the time of Ryūon’s writing. See Ogura Shigeji 小倉慈司 and Yamaguchi Teruomi 山口輝臣, Tennō to shūkyō 天皇と宗教 (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 2011), 198–204. 23.  “India” (Tenjiku 天竺) is here not used as a precise geographic name, but as a vague reference to all land between China and Europe.

Chapter 4

Laughing at Christianity (1869) Kiyū Dōjin Translated by James Baskind

Translator’s Introduction From the time that Christianity first appeared in Japan with the arrival of St. Francis Xavier (1506–1552) and the Jesuits in the mid-sixteenth century, its tension with Buddhism in large part came to define this cultural encounter. Both systems were highly organized, possessed a clear and defined corpus of sacred scripture, and each had its own elaborate soteriological framework within which fundamental questions such as the nature of the soul/mind and postmortem existence were neatly subsumed. Although what is termed Japan’s “Christian Century” (1549– 1650) is often held up as a startling example of mission success, in point of fact, even a few decades before the end of this period the exceedingly harsh governmental suppression of Christianity had all but effectively eradicated it in Japan, and for the most part it only continued to exist and find engagement as a polemical foil within the tumult of forging a new national identity.1 After two centuries of isolation, with the opening of the country and the influx of missionaries during the Meiji period (1868–1912), Christianity returned in full force, their mission facilitated by the lifting of Christianity’s proscription in 1873. This time, Christianity was not only represented by the Jesuits and the Catholic Church, but the Orthodox Church, Protestantism, Unitarianism, and other streams of Christianity flooded into Japan, reflecting the subsequent evolution of the religious landscape and demographics in the West. Just like it was three centuries earlier, Buddhism again found itself threatened by the arrival of Christian missionaries as well as the vitality and success of its early 120



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endeavors. In addition to this, Buddhism was also facing an internal enemy with the rise of a new type of Shinto and the nationalist government that intended to erase all vestiges of “foreign influences,” which included Buddhism. This phenomenon resulted in the haibutsu kishaku 廃仏毀釈 campaign (abolish Buddhism and destroy Śākyamuni), and although by 1872 the harshest part of this movement had ended, Buddhism was left in a debilitated and demoralized state from which it never fully recovered. It was in this anti-Buddhist milieu of the late bakumatsu and early Meiji periods that Kiyū Dōjin 杞憂道人, the pseudonym of Ugai Tetsujō 養鸕徹定 (1814–1891), worked with equal vigor in both the propagation of Buddhism and in the polemics against Christianity. He spent almost his whole life as a priest of the Pure Land School (Jōdoshū 浄土 宗), having entered as a novice at six years of age, only later to become head of the school (kanchō 管長). During his early training in Kyoto he immersed himself in Buddhist and Confucian studies, the latter imparting an influence on his subsequent anti-Christian works, which echo Confucian-inspired arguments reminiscent of the Mito school.2 He was also a formidable scholar of Buddhist scriptures, making a comparative study of the Ōbaku Canon (Ōbakuban daizōkyō 黄檗版大蔵経) and the Korean Canon, or Tripitaka Koreana (Kōrai daizōkyō 高麗大蔵経), in order to correct errors in the former text.3 Ugai’s scholarly trajectory would take a sudden turn when he came across the writings of Joseph Edkins (1823–1905), a British Protestant missionary who spent nearly sixty years in China. While there, Edkins made a considerable name for himself as a translator, linguist, philologist, and scholar of Chinese religions. In 1866 he published a twentychapter book entitled Correcting the Mistakes of Śākyamuni (釈教正謬; J. Shakkyō shōmyū; Ch. Shijiao zhengmiu) written for the Chinese intelligent­ sia in order to demonstrate the superiority of Christianity over Chinese religions. The next year, at fifty-five years of age, Ugai wrote a two-volume refutation of this work, Shakkyō shōmyū shoha 釈教正謬初破 (Correcting the mistakes of Śākyamuni: First refutation), and Shakkyō shōmyū saiha 釈教正謬再破 (Correcting the mistakes of Śākyamuni: Refutation revisited). These volumes represented his first authored works of antiChristian polemics, a field upon which he would leave his mark. It should be mentioned that even before he produced these works, as early as 1861 he had published two collections of anti-Christian works, Byakujashū 闢邪集 (Ch. Pixieji) and the Byakuja kanken roku 闢邪管見録. The

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former is a collection of late-Ming (1368–1644) Buddhist anti-Christian polemical tracts, while the latter is predominantly a collection of Japanese anti-Christian writings with a smattering of Ming and Qing ones included as well. The work translated in part here is Shōyaron 笑耶論 (Laughing at Christianity), a textbook composed for Buddhist priests who had little to no knowledge of Christianity. While Ugai’s two-volume refutation of Edkins’s work was a Buddhist defense against Christianity as Edkins envisioned it, Shōyaron is in a dialogue format, wherein the two traditions engage each other head-on. Also, whereas Ugai’s two former works treated Protestant Christianity, this work discusses Catholic doctrine.4 The work itself was written in response to a tract entitled Musei shinron 夢醒真論 (On truth after waking from a dream) by Kisei Chishi 帰正痴士 (Abe Shinzō 阿部真造, 1831–1888) a onetime Christian convert—he later apostatized—who published pro-Christian texts. The text of Musei shinron includes fifteen topics, each one relating to a different aspect of Christian doctrine. Ugai’s text follows this pattern, and provides a refutation for each of the Christians’ claims. In order the fifteen topics are: (1) law (hō 法), religion (kyō 教), and Original Sin; (2) true teachings; (3) human nature and the true path; (4) Christianity and the three teachings (of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism); (5) the Lord of Heaven’s creation of heaven, earth, man, and all things; (6) the immortality of the Lord of Heaven and man’s soul; (7) the Devil’s temptations and Original Sin; (8) the transmission of Original Sin and the saints; (9) the birth of Jesus; (10) the virgin birth, miracles, and the resurrection; (11) the seven sacraments and the Trinity; (12) the Ten Commandments; (13) ancestor offerings; (14) the singular true path; and (15) creation and the fate of man’s soul. When we read Ugai’s refutations to the above doctrinal points we will see that he employs predominantly the same arguments offered by Buddhists over two centuries earlier. A prominent example is that of Fukansai Habian 不干斎ハビアン (b. 1565) the well-known convertapostate who respectively authored the pro-Christian text Myōtei Mondō 妙貞問答 (1605) and later the anti-Christian text Hadaiusu 破提宇子 (1620).5 In the latter work, Habian’s main focus of attack is the Christian premise of a loving, just, omnipotent god who allows Original Sin and the fall of man to occur. He also criticizes its related doctrine of an eternal hell. These represented thorny issues in the Japanese reception of Christianity, and remain so to the present.



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Translation (1) Law, Religion, and Original Sin According to Musei Shinron 夢醒新〔真〕論, […] [Christians say that] Long ago, religion (kyō) and law (hō)6 were not separate [entities]. Religion included within itself the means for governing the country, but in later ages religion and the law were treated as separate from each other. In accordance with the urgency of the times, in this treatise [we need] to establish set terms. Also, clerics must not fail to display the proper reverence to the august sovereign. When the laws of a country are not grounded on the principles of religion, it leads to despotic government in which the people below fear those above, and those above merely tolerate those below. Ultimately this leads to insurrection. When the law is in accord with religious principle it leads to benevolent government where those above and those below are in harmony and the country long endures. Religious principle is for leading people back to their original nature. Our nature is to turn toward the spiritual and delight in the performance of good deeds, just as water flows to low places and flames rise. The difference is, even without instruction but simply by following their original nature water will always flow and flames will always rise to where they should. With people, however, unless they are instructed, they fall into evil ways and ultimately lose themselves in suffering. This propensity to prefer evil is due to the taint of Original Sin. In refutation I say that to hold up the teachings and laws of this deviant sect [of Christianity] and honor it as some kind of religion higher than the way of the sovereign is the height of perversity. The accord between government and religion (sei to kyō 政ト教) is like both wings of a bird or both wheels of a cart, and cannot be separated. The function of government is to set the correct example from above. Religion brings benefits. That is, it provides [spiritual] laws for the people to live by. When government and religion are in opposition, the people lose their direction, which results in the quick deterioration of public morality. The harmony of government and religion was first established by sagely

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men who set down the rules [governing] heaven and earth. Therefore, when one breaks these rules it means one is also violating the heavenly principle (tenri 天理), which invites punishment from the temporal powers and censure from the ancestral spirits (kishin 鬼神). This is a natural principle. The Five Constants (gojō 五常) of Confucianism and the Five Precepts [of Buddhism] (gokai 五戒) are based on this.7 By means of this principle the teachings of Confucianism and Buddhism spread throughout the land, and while above the structure of government is maintained, below the people’s hearts are united, and in this way several hundreds or thousands of years passed as if a single day. However, the “holy and wise” adherents of the deviant sect [of Christianity] disparage the Way, and say that the three teachings of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism are all merely man-made and false. They establish their own rules and place them above the Imperial government, and also say that the principles of our religions run contrary to our true nature. We already have a felicitous tradition of reverence toward our ruler and parents, but in the deviant teaching in order to [appropriately] serve the [Christian God] one must abandon one’s ruler and parents. In addition, there is that doctrine they call “Original Sin” where it is said that one’s heart is cleansed through the spilling of blood and the tearing of flesh. If Original Sin actually adheres in our nature, even if we were to smash our bones and burn our flesh, how could we ever erase that sin? In this way, by means of various absurd remarks they try to do away with the three teachings. Is this something that should be tolerated? Can somebody who is really serious in endeavoring in the way possibly believe this deceptive teaching? As Zhuangzi says, it is like “the owl holding onto his decaying rat as he screeches at a phoenix.”8 Is this not laughable? […]

(4) Christianity and the Three Teachings [of Shinto, Confucianism, and Buddhism] […] [E]ven babies are inherently possessed of correct knowledge and ability, and know the difference between good and bad, black and white. This spiritual substance then gets attracted by personal desires, and like spots on a mirror, it gets obscured. Thus, waves stir up on the surface of the mind just like they do on [still] water. In Confucianism this is called “losing the bright virtue,” and in my Buddhism is called “being submerged in deluded thought.” In Shinto it is called “clouding the mind



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of the heavenly deities” (amatsumikami 天津御神).9 As seen here, the three teachings are in accord. If one clarifies the nature of mind and polishes it, one can attain the mind of the kami and buddhas. One attains understanding of the mind by these principles and establishes faith and virtue, and therefore the meaning of the past and present will be clear. Is this not a teaching that looks equally upon heaven and earth, the sun and the moon? These three teachings, like the three generative forces of heaven, earth, and man, are like the three [kinds of] light of the sun, moon, and stars. Their virtues cannot be contained in a single principle. The sages of old have explained this in great detail. The evil adherents of Christianity intend to throw the world into confusion by means of their teaching, to destroy the sacred scriptures of the three teachings, calling them empty theories on paper. An old saying goes: “If you try to spit on the heavens, it will merely fall back on your face” (that is to say, their attempt to harm others will only come back as harm to themselves). Is this not truly laughable? […]

(5) The Lord of Heaven’s Creation of Heaven, Earth, Man, and All Things The Christians also say that heaven, earth, and man are not born from nature. They are without beginning and end, infinite in expanse, and that the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-good, all-beneficent Lord of Heaven (tenshu 天主) first produced the heavens, then produced the earth, then the sun, moon, and stars, and all for the sake of man. Then came the beasts, the flora, and after that the insects, reaching all the way to the sand and stones. It goes on to say that all of them were produced for mankind’s benefit and needs. In addition, the formless, angelic beings beyond number exist in their various functions only in order to protect man [. . .]

(6) The Immortality of the Lord of Heaven and Mankind’s Soul [. . .] The Christians also say that this Lord of Heaven is not merely the creator, but also is eternal, and although without sound or smell, since he is the one great, august ruler, he directs everything without exception— not only the destiny of man, but also everything from the flourishing and fall, war and peace of nations, to the matter of [human] spirits. In

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regard to the sentient and nonsentient creatures of creation, [the Lord of Heaven] endowed man with a moral [dimension] that is separate from the body that is born and decays. This is the imperishable soul of man. [They also say that] In flora there is a living force (ikumusubi 生魂) and in the animals there is a sentient force (kakkon 覚魂), both of which perish with the death of the body. Only in people is the spirit imperishable. Since it has the same nature of ghosts it is also called spirit (seishin 精神), and since man has this spirit, is he not the spiritual [leader] of the myriad things [of creation]? When this spirit is housed in a body it vivifies the person, and when it leaves it causes the death of the body. While the body decays the spirit is without end. Its powers of perception and wisdom are the same as it possesses in this world. In refutation I say that when distinguishing between these three [types of] souls (sankon 三魂), if we return to the principle that all things in heaven and earth are constantly undergoing change, the meaning of the saying that all things are one is like a painting of rice cakes.10 How can this be called the teaching of universal equality? If everything from beasts, insects, fish, flora, all the way to sand and stones only exists for mankind’s use, when one wants to catch a horse it shouldn’t run away and when one wants to catch a fish it shouldn’t swim away, but rather should come forth [by its own accord]. So why is it that they escape in fright, avoiding the dangers of lines and sinkers? Furthermore, if it is the will of heaven that animals should serve as food for man, then that would mean that mice are born for the purpose of feeding cats, pigeons are born for feeding hawks, and humans are born for feeding tigers and wolves. This makes absolutely no sense. If the followers of the deviant sect do exactly as they say and think, [it means] they will joyfully kill and harm all manner [of sentient beings]. Since they do not read the Confucian and Buddhist texts they come up with these nonsensical arguments. It is just as Zhuangzi said: “At night, although an owl can catch a flea and distinguish between individual hairs [of their prey], no matter how much they strain their eyes during the day they are unable to see the hills and mountains.”11 Is this not laughable?



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(7) The Devil’s Temptations and Original Sin Also, the Christians go on to say that this soul has the power of discernment and memory, and that it was given free will to choose to worship the Lord of Heaven. However, since the first ancestor [Adam] fell for the Devil’s ploy, he turned his back on the Lord of Heaven, left behind his holy favor, and confused by the knowledge of good and evil, was moved by the personal and worldly desires before him, clouding his true nature and causing him to lose the vision of the Lord of Heaven. This is what is called Original Sin, and because of it the suffering of sickness and death, and all other manner of calamity befell mankind. [They also say:] If mankind had not fallen for the Devil’s temptation and there was no Original Sin, mankind would have remained the Lord of Heaven’s beloved, forever enjoying the well-being and joys of heaven. But instead, due to Original Sin he has fallen under the dominion of the Devil, and is forced to sink in eternal torment. However, after the Lord of Heaven was born [in flesh as Jesus Christ], by merit of that great favor (on 恩) he is able to save people from the clutches of the Devil, wash away their Original Sin, and return them to their original [pristine] nature. Although this cannot be seen with the physical eye, when seen through the eyes of faith, it is clear that the spirit of justice and the mercy of the Lord of Heaven has come down to rest on us. In refutation I say […] that if the Lord of Heaven had the power to create the heavens and earth as well as mankind, how can you assert that the Devil was the one being he was unable to control? Why is it that the highest, most august Ruler [of the Universe] is made out to be so weak like this? If there is going to be something like Original Sin, why does he [the Lord of Heaven] not cleanse mankind of it, rather than causing so much trouble to man, extending to the furthest descendants? This [does] not demonstrate a love for mankind. On the contrary, he causes mankind to suffer for the sins of the first ancestor. Why does the Lord of Heaven create man only to burden him with the debt [of sin]? It is like leaving my unpaid debt to my children who must pay it [in my place]. It is like the Jingwei bird trying to fill up the ocean with stones.12 Truly this is laughable.

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(8) The Transmission of Original Sin and Sages […] [The Christians say:] No matter how learned and talented one may be, no one is possessed of the ability to free one’s own mind. The reason is because all people are tainted by Original Sin. It is just like how a sick patient is unable to treat his own illness or look after himself. If he is to make a full recovery, he follows the doctor’s orders, and only then is he able to attend to the illnesses of others. The Lord of Heaven is like a great physician, and since human beings are all exiled children, they are unable to return on their own. If they wish to return, they must demonstrate regret over their earlier transgression, they must inquire as to the ruler’s secret directives with the relevant authorities, and pay a fine, but in the end, the authority to forgive rests solely in the hands of the ruler, and the great ministers’ and other officials’ role is only to transmit the will of the ruler. And if upon request the pardon is not granted, then there is no one else to appeal to. In refutation I say […] that if everyone cultivated their minds and bodies [according to] the teachings of Confucianism and Buddhism, there would be nobody who could not reach their source. However [the way Christians] quote their scriptures, administer their medicines, pray to the heavens, and quell their demons, they are almost like the ramblings of a worthless witch doctor. They are unable to treat either the mind or body. If they happen to discuss the fundamental nature or mind, they attribute them to the Lord of Heaven, they mock the sages and ignore the kami and buddhas, confuse and delude [the people], and confound the norms of society.

Notes This translation is based on the text of Shōyaron 笑耶論 appears in Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei 明治仏教思想資料集成, ed. Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei henshū iinkai 明治仏教思想資料集成委員会, vol. 2 (Kyoto: Dōhōsha, 1980), 15–30. The subdivisions used to set off the different topics treated in this translation are not so delineated in the original, but I have opted to include them for ease of reference and to maintain clarity as this is only a partial translation of the original. 1.  The issue of anti-Christian discourse in the forging of modern national ideology has been felicitously treated in Kiri Paramore, Ideology and



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Christianity in Japan (London: Routledge, 2006). See in particular chapter five, “Mid- and late Tokugawa Anti-Christian Discourse: Continuity and Change,” 103–130, and chapter six, “Meiji Anti-Christian Discourse: Modern National Ideology and Conservatism,” 131–160. 2.  Paramore, Ideology and Christianity, 124. 3.  Tsunemitsu Kōnen 常光浩然, Meiji no bukkyōsha 明治の仏教者, vol. 2 (Tokyo: Bukkyō bunka kōryū sentā, 1974), 316. 4.  Serikawa Hiromichi 芹川博通, Bukkyō to kirisutokyō I: Hikaku shisōron 仏教とキリスト教 I：比較思想論, in Serikawa Hiromichi chosakushū 芹川博 通著作集, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Hokuju shuppan, 2007), 253. 5.  Habian is a fascinating figure in his own right. No other character has left such an indelible mark upon both pro- and anti-Christian polemics in early modern Japan. For a treatment of Habian, his intellectual milieu, and translations of both of the above works, see James Baskind and Richard Bowring, eds., The Myōtei Dialogues: A Japanese Christian Critique of Native Traditions (Leiden: Brill, 2015), and George Elison, Deus Destroyed: The Image of Christianity in Early Modern Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1973). 6.  Throughout this chapter, “religion” is the English translation for the word kyō 教 (Ch. jiao), which in modern Japanese is usually rendered “teaching.” It has been pointed out that kyō is the dominant hypernym for religious traditions in both China and Japan, although in the former it usually is associated with Confucianism, while in the latter, Buddhism. See Hans Martin Krämer, “ ‘This Deus Is a Fool’s Cap Buddha’: ‘The Christian Sect’ as Seen by Early Modern Japanese Buddhists,” Comparativ: Zeitschrift für Globalgeschichte und Vergleichende Gesellschaftsforschung 20, no. 4 (2010): 77. “Law” (hō 法) is often used in the context of “Buddhist law” or Buddhadharma (buppō 仏法), the premodern appellation for Buddhism, but based on the juxtaposition with “religion” in this context, it is clearly used by means of contrast, highlighting the legalistic dimension of the term. 7.  The Five Constants are the five moral precepts that one should constantly hold to according to Confucianism. They are comprised of: (1) humaneness ( jin 仁); (2) due-giving (gi 義); (3) propriety (rei 礼); (4) wisdom (chi 智); and (5) trust (shin 信). The Five Precepts are the minimal set of ethical restrictions to be observed by practicing Buddhist householders and include: (1) not killing ( fusesshō 不殺生); (2) not stealing ( fuchūtō 不偸 盗); (3) no illicit sexual relations ( fujain 不邪淫); (4) no false speech ( fumōgō 不妄語); and (5) no consumption of alcohol ( fuonju 不飲酒). 8.  This proverb is based on an episode of the Zhuangzi 荘子 (XVII:12), “Autumnal Floods” (Qiushui 秋水), in which an official from the state of

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Liang came to Zhuangzi, paranoid that the latter wanted to usurp his position in the government. In response, Zhuangzi related the story of a phoenix, who only alights on sacred trees, eats only the most exquisite fruits and drinks from the purest springs, and happened one day to pass over an owl that thereupon screeched in fear, thinking that the phoenix was after its meal of a half-decayed rat. From Zhuangzi’s allegory we can surmise that he found the idea of a government position less than appetizing. Interestingly, Habian uses the same allegory in defense of Christianity in Myōtei Mondō when he has his mouthpiece for the religion, Yūtei, assure his interlocutor, Myōshū, that the Christian padres are not in fact interested in using religion as a means of conquering Japan. This allegory is found throughout classical and early modern texts for describing something of little value. See Baskind and Bowring, The Myōtei Dialogues, 192. 9.  Amatsukami 天津神 refers to the gods that live and descend from “the Plain of High Heaven” 高天原 (Takamanohara). They can be contrasted with the gods of the land (Kunitsukami 国つ神). 10.  The expression “a painting of rice cakes” (画餅; J. gabei; Ch. huabing) is used to express something that is of no practical use, just as rice cakes in a painting are unable to satisfy hunger. The locus classicus for this term can be found in the “Book of Wei” (魏書; J. Gisho; Ch. Weishu) in the Records of the Three Kingdoms (三国志; J. Sangokushi; Ch. Sanguozhi), a Chinese history that covers the period of the end of the Han dynasty (189–220) and the Three Kingdoms period (220–280). 11.  This passage, chixiu ye cuozao, cha haomo, zhouchu chenmu er bujian qiushan 鴟鵂夜撮蚤，察毫末，昼出瞋目而不見丘山, appears in the “Autumnal Floods” chapter of the Zhuangzi (XVII:5), which Legge translates as: “The White horned owl collects its fleas in the night-time, and can discern the point of a hair, but in a bright day it stares with its eyes and cannot see a mound or a hill.” 12.  The expression jingwei tianhai 精衛填海 (J. seiei tenkai) appears in the Classic of Mountains and Seas (Shanhai jing 山海経), a second-century BCE compilation of Chinese myth and mythic geography. It derives from the story of Yandi’s 炎帝 (another name for Shennong 神農, a mythical sage ruler of prehistoric China) daughter Nüwa 女娃, who drowned in the Eastern Sea, thereupon metamorphosing into a bird called the Jingwei. In this almost Sisyphean myth, due to her drowning, the bird attempts to fill up the sea by means of dropping rocks and twigs—an impossible task. This expression thereby came to refer to the planning of an endeavor that from the start is clearly impossible, and that inevitably ends in frustration.

chapter 5

On the National Doctrine of Greater Japan (1882) Shaku Unshō Translated by Kameyama Mitsuhiro and Nathaniel Gallant

Translators’ Introduction “Discipline” (kai 戒) has a complicated history within the context of Japanese Buddhism. For instance, precept practice among monastics during the Edo period extended far beyond the regulations of monastic life within religious communities and into the territory of what we now understand as secular law. Within the social structures of early modern Japan, the breaking of precepts by a renunciate who occupied the social stratum of “priest” would not only merit excommunication from the religious body, but result in legal retribution in the form of exile, among other punishments. In other words, the disciplinary practices of early modern monastics functioned as a signifier for the social class of Buddhist priests, from their conduct to their dress and length of their hair. Yet, as a result of the Meiji Restoration, that tradition developed in a new direction. In this period, when the place of individual sects under the new state institutions was being debated, the government aimed as well at dismantling the early modern system of social class under the banner of “equality of the four classes” (shimin byōdō 四民平等). Monks naturally became a target in this push, were converted into “common people” (heimin 平民), and became the object of registry law.1 In this context, the Meiji government also issued the so-called nikujiki saitai 肉 食妻帯 edict, which deregulated the monitoring of monastic discipline by the government.2 By this point, another debate had begun to rage as

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a result of this movement about the practices of monks, who were now no longer subject to secular law. Shaku Unshō 釈雲照 (1827–1909), treated here, is a “precept-protecting monk” ( jikaisō 持戒僧) representative of this chapter of Meiji religious history. Having undergone monastic training in the Edo period and lived through the latter half of Meiji, Unshō spent his life as part of the movement to promote more rigorous monastic precepts. Although he later lost support from the Buddhist institution for his ideas, he continued to espouse the centrality of the precepts to monastic life, developing his own independent movement, in which he sought to make use of the precepts within various discourses, including those of “National Doctrine” (kokkyō 国教), morality (dōtoku 道徳), and education (kyōiku 教育). In this sense his movement can be regarded as having given shape to the modern conception and history of the monastic precepts. Unshō was born in 1827, in the village of Higashizono, in the Kandō district of Izumo (present-day Shimane Prefecture), taking the tonsure at age ten in the Shingon tradition. At age forty-two, in the midst of the shinbutsu bunri 神仏分離 movement, legally separating spaces of worship into Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines, he participated in the foundation of the League of United Buddhist Sects (Shoshū dōtoku kaimei 諸宗同徳会盟), and in this capacity submitted to the government several petitions explaining the essential link between precept revival, Imperial rule, and Buddhism. He as well possessed a strong sense of obligation to his own religious community, the Shingon establishment, and advocated a return to “the three disciplines”—morality, meditation, and wisdom (kai jō e 戒定慧)—as a major proponent of denominational reform. The Society for the Ten Virtuous Precepts (Jūzenkai 十善会), with which his name became synonymous, gradually transformed its mission toward ministering to laypeople. However, these activities came to be criticized for their rigid adherence to outdated values, and he locked horns with the leaders of a new, doctrinally centered faction on Mount Kōya who advocated for the construction of a more scholastic form of Buddhism. A disappointed Unshō returned to the capital and began independent work with the aid of lay benefactors, such as bureaucrat Aoki Teizō 青木貞三 (1858–1889) and educator Sawayanagi Masatarō 沢 柳政太郎 (1865–1927). Central to these activities was the Mejiro Monastic Academy (Mejiro sōen 目白僧園), built in 1885, where the education of vinaya priests was conducted on the basis of a strict curriculum.



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In turn, at the Society for the Ten Virtuous Precepts he enacted a popular campaign to spread the eponymous rules put forward by the late-Edo Shingon monk Jiun Onkō 慈雲飮光 (1718–1804). In addition, the significance of this society was explicitly justified in terms of its nationalist commitments, rooted in both the protection of Japan and reverence for the kami. A year before his death, Unshō made plans for the lifelong project of establishing the Tokkyō Academy (Tokkyō gakkō 徳教学校), out of a desire to unite Confucian, Buddhist, and Shinto teachings. The project was, however, left incomplete by his sudden death in 1909. The work translated here, Unshō’s On the National Doctrine of Greater Japan (Dainippon kokkyōron 大日本国教論, National Doctrine below), was first published in 1882. His approach is, in his own words, “first [to] parse the meaning of the term religion (shūkyō 宗教); second, [to] consider the original school of the Imperial House; and third, with reverence to the Imperial Dynasty, [to] speak of its deeds.” Based on the idea that Buddhism is the “essential sect of the Imperial house,” Unshō’s goal in this work is to fix his own “religion” as the national doctrine of Japan. Unshō’s concerns are, in this sense, a response to contemporary debates on the topic, in which the new category and function of “religion” became the means by which to articulate the place of Buddhism within Japan’s history and the variety of “Buddhisms” it contained. Unshō’s use of interpretive tropes from Shingon discourse, which place its teachings at the center of a hierarchy of different forms and sects of Buddhism, is therefore directly translated in this text into the terms of an emergent and deeply contested plurality of religions. With the establishment in 1876 of a Bureau to Research Constitutional Governance (Kenpō torishirabe kyoku 憲法取調局) and the issuance, a few years later in 1881, of an Imperial rescript to convene a National Diet (Kokkai kaisetsu no mikotonori 国会開設の詔), people were aware that a constitutional system was in the works. This was, as Yamaguchi Teruomi explains, followed by a debate on the necessity and role of a national doctrine.3 That is, the question of which should, in the end, be Japan’s “future religion,” became a matter of popular interest. The National Doctrine is simultaneously, as the name suggests, a theory of Buddhism promulgated as a national religion and an anti-Christian text. Although the ban on Christianity inherited from the Edo-era government was lifted in 1873, the existing view that Christianity was a “heretical school” ( jashū 邪宗) remained strong, and those in the

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Buddhist camp attempted to prove their relevance through a specific form of anti-Christian discourse (haiyaron 排耶論). In turn, in the rhetoric used by Christians of the period to oppose Buddhism, Christianity was a religion of “scholarship,” which occurred in civilized countries and with a highly useful morality for state building. Those in the Buddhist camp responded within the same discursive framework—often said to be exemplified in The Golden Needle of Truth (Shinri konshin 真理金針; 1886– 1887), by Inoue Enryō 井上円了 (1858–1919), which explained Buddhism’s superior nature as a “philosophy” (tetsugaku 哲学).4 Among the three abovementioned topics, it was “morality” to which Unshō dedicated himself the most. In comparing the morality contained within Buddhism and Christianity, Unshō took the latter to be a religion constituted out of blind adherence to an all-powerful god, in other words, out of “passive obedience,” and therefore inferior as an active or functional system of morality. Buddhism, which he defined by the principle of karmic retribution, was taken to be a superior religion in moral terms from its regulation of desire, everyday actions, and speech. Since within Buddhism there is no kind of adherence other than to the dharma, he also understood it to be a religion suitable to the “independent spirit” chiefly valued in Japan during the “Civilization and Enlightenment” (bunmei kaika 文明開化) movement of the time. The particularity of Unshō’s ideas lies in his application of the “ten virtuous precepts” to the issue of popular morality. Against the critical view of Neo-Confucian and nativist scholars, which understood Buddhism as denying filial ties and negating worldly matters, Unshō took Buddhism as the religion of morality. He also held the practice of precepts by the people to have value to society beyond simple, individual benefit, for instance in the reduction of civil litigation in the precept of “not being covetous,” or in the observance of various laws based on the precept of not stealing, among others. Here, it is then possible to see the attempted sublimation of universal moral precepts beyond Buddhism by Unshō in his vinaya philosophy. Buddhists since the Meiji period, while pledging fundamental allegiance to the state, albeit to different degrees, have displayed a variety of stances within the context of nationalism. As shown in this text, Unshō’s particularity lies within a historical view of moral decay in which an idealized form of ancient Buddhism, which had maintained the precepts under the protection of the Imperial court and aristocracy, was replaced by various Buddhist communities of the medieval period, which rose with



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the warrior class and eventually were unable to maintain their adherence to the precepts. As such, Unshō thought it possible to return a corrupted Buddhism to its discipline-oriented origins through a connection to its severed, ancient bond with the emperor, especially at the very moment of the shogunate’s fall and return of power to the Imperial court.

Translation A question of clarification: Since Imperial Law and religion are distinct in nature, religion is not to be mixed with Imperial Law, nor is Imperial Law to interfere with religion.5 Of what use then is it to go out of your way to discuss the religion of the Imperial House? Answer: Oh, but isn’t what you are saying quite unreasonable? The Imperial Law is chiefly the governance of physical matters, while what we call religion is essentially the rectification of hearts and minds. Although these two should originally not have been mixed, it is true that in the mutual function of inner and outer they are still inseparable, just like blood and life force (ki 気) combine to nourish the body, and box and lid work together to make a vessel. If there were a person who in their outer appearance did not break the rules of law and was accomplished in both speech and action, but in their mind were not faithful and virtuous, who could then mistake them for a good person? Therefore, if you desire the people within today’s realm to have virtuous and faithful hearts and minds and to not have the least bit of illicit intention, then morality (dōgi 道義) must be considered essential and engendering a mind of repentance and cooperation of utmost importance. If one wishes for there to be no breaking of laws without making use of morality to develop minds, it would be like boring a hole in the root of a tree and still expecting its flowers and leaves to flourish. In the end nothing will come to fruition. The Imperial Law is just like a beautiful fruit-bearing tree, and religion is like that which provides water for its fertile soil. If one does not water the soil at its base, and instead pours water directly onto the flowers and leaves, then not only will the flowers and leaves not flourish, but the whole tree will wither away. As such, for the flowers and fruits to flourish the roots must be cultivated, and for the roots to be cultivated, there must be something with which to water. It is as well like this for Imperial Rule and religion. It is true that the rules of religion (shūkyōhō 宗教法) must not be mixed with the rules of law (hōritsu 法律) and the rules of law must not get in the way of

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religion. However, improving people’s minds and easing the way for obedience to the Imperial Law is impossible without morals (dōtoku 道 徳), and the cultivation of morals unachievable without religion. Therefore, the two work together and are inseparable, just like watering and flowers and fruits. To speak of the religion of the Imperial House is not to say that religion is to be mixed with Imperial Rule, only to clarify the reason that, despite the distinct territories of religion and the state (seikyō 政教), both are still mutually cooperative and inseparable. A question is asked: Through the ingenious explanation of otherworldly realms (yūmei no sakai 幽冥ノ境), that which we call religion causes fear and awe and arouses passive obedience in ignorant people. Now, the civilized gentleman is supposed to value the cultivation of an atmosphere of independence (dokuritsu no kishō 独立の気象). Why should he take up the wicked customs of these barbarians? If the nation must have a religion and we have, at the moment, been reforming state affairs with methods adopted from the West, then in the case of religion too should we not start over by embracing the Western teaching [of Christianity]? Answer: In our Buddhism, we examine the origin of the soul (reikon no hongen 霊魂ノ本原) and thoroughly investigate the cause for why things arise; we cultivate an atmosphere of independence and have no fear facing death. Buddhism holds becoming free in all things (datsuzen jiyū 脱然自由) to be the fruit of liberation (gedatsu 解脱). As for your opinion that one should develop a fearful mind and blindly follow a given entity: this is what constitutes the Western teachings, and such an idea parallels, so to speak, the ancient heretical path of Brahmā, which has been profoundly denounced by Śākyamuni as an evil teaching. Our True Dharma is not like this: therefore, it is practiced in the civilized world, and not in barbarian countries. The light of civilization, therefore, flourished in Our Empire in ancient times, and the True Dharma pervaded widely. Nevertheless, in a later period the True Dharma faded, and along with it the Kingly Law, which is clear from the sacred words of the Imperial decrees sent to this [Shingon] sect.6 The Western teaching was practiced in barbarian lands, and not in civilized countries. Therefore, as the light of civilization unfolds, [that] religion should decline, and this has also been the case with the various Western countries both in the past and in the present. There is a great difference between those doctrines true and false. Who would confuse a jewel and a pebble? If, as in your opinion, one wished to take up within our own Imperial Land



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the teaching of blind obedience of those foreign countries, it would be a wish for darkness to pervade among our Imperial subjects (kōmin 皇民), something that learned men of virtue (yūshiki no kunshi 有識ノ君子) shall leave behind. Question: We have already heard that there is a distinction within religion between faithful and heretical, true and false (shōja shingi 正邪 真偽). However, among the religions of the [Japanese] Empire, the Esoteric School (misshū 密宗) is said to be the most sublime (mujō daigo 無 上醍醐),7 and Tōji to be the highest temple. Nevertheless, since olden times, various other schools such as Zen have also achieved renown all around, and there were no few emperors and ministers who took refuge in these other schools. Therefore, why do you now say that the Esoteric School is superior and that it should be established as the religion of the Imperial Household? Answer: Since capacities [for cultivating the path of Buddhism] differ, there is no one religion that applies to all, just as medicines are given in response to illnesses. In the case of a good fit for the capacity, there should really be no room for doubt. However, as we have previously explained, the utmost superiority of the doctrines of the School of Mantras and Dharanis (shingon daranishū 真言陀羅尼宗) was determined, beyond a doubt, in Nagarjuna’s direct explanation of the dharma-body, in On the Mind of Awakening (Putixin lun 菩提心論). This religion covers not only the entirety of Buddhism (issai bukkyō 一切仏 教),8 but also encompasses the essentials of all religions, leaving nothing out. Further, the single gate is itself the universal gate; two yet not two, identity and difference are not confused. As a result there is nothing, even in the finest exoteric schools, that can be said to have not been ultimately attained at the source of the secret ocean of fruition, nothing that one cannot reach or attain through the breadth of meaning of the three equal gates of the dharma.9 As such, our great founder [Kūkai] has said of this topic: “at the moment a light is lit in a dark room full of holes, if you see this from outside the room, you would be able to perceive the light as it is released from the various punctures of different sizes. Therefore, although you do see the lights in different sizes, these forms are unrelated to the torch inside the room, and even to the light that it releases, but is something perceived only provisionally by the person who sits outside.”10 This applies to us: if one sees the gates of various schools based on the tenets of Buddhism as a consolidated whole, then

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one will see that they are all one, originally unrisen, unified wisdom, and that the dharma gate of wisdom is originally without forms of distinction. Since those particularities of Great and Small [Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna] and Expedient and True [Exoteric vs. Esoteric] are distinct only when seen in accordance with each individual’s capacities, one’s own original dharma-natures are fundamentally separated by the forms of being true or expedient. […] Even more then, within Buddhism, the Great and Small or Expedient and True, Zen or Pure Land, are all dharma gates that are non-dual. We should revere and venerate the fact that this eternally unchanging religion was determined for the national body of our land (waga kuni no kokutai 吾国ノ国体), incomparable among the myriad nations. Without having encountered this most profound of secret treasuries, who could blindly criticize the religion of the Empire? If they all understood this meaning, how could they not be able to refute [the truth] of inferior and superior capacities, and the expedient and true? Moreover, this is what makes our Imperial land what it is, and does not extend to China or other nations. This is due to the natural advent of the divine Imperial regalia, prior to the creation of man itself.11 As the descendant of the Great Kami pronounced: “The Middle Country of Reed Beds12 is the place where my descendants will become sovereign, their ascendance will occasion the eternal unity of heaven and earth.”13 Among all the world’s lands, after India, China is the vastest in territory, oldest in terms of creation, and has the largest number of people. That is why rather than India one praises China as the “Civilized Land” (bunbutsukoku 文物国). […] However, in two Imperial reigns [Yao and Shun]14 there was merely rhetoric by which to discipline, and no particularly permanent regalia with which to inherit the country. It was only later in the Xia era (2070–1600 BCE) that the Nine Tripod Cauldrons were cast and taken as the Heirloom Seal of the Realm. Though in the non-Buddhist teachings there is a man who magnifies himself as the descendant of the heavenly sovereign (tenshu 天主),15 I have never heard that he possesses any kind of Imperial seal. This is not the case in our Imperial Land. From the time of our nation’s creation there was already an Imperial seal for bequeathing the country and the Divine Command [mentioned in the Nihon shoki 日本書紀]. Our Esoteric Buddhist tradition as well passed on its inheritance from the dharmakāya itself generation after generation, and was complete with both esoteric regalia for the secret yoga altars and the rhetoric of discipline. Nothing was lacking. It is not merely in [these] one or two



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instances where the venerability of the Imperial Way and the utmost wondrousness of our Esoteric School naturally coincide with each other in perfect harmony. The reason the Imperial Land is the Imperial Land, and Our Temple is Our Temple,16 truly lies in the Word of the Emperor.17

Notes The authors would like to thank Kirihara Kenshin, Bruce Winkelman, as well as the editors for their help revising the translation of some of the more difficult parts of this text. This translation is based on Unshō 雲照, Dainippon kokkyōron 大日本国 教論 (Tokyo: Morie Shoten, 1882), 97a–102a. 1.  This decree was issued on the 25th day of the 4th month of Meiji 5 (1872). 2.  See the chapter by Micah Auerback on Fukuda Gyōkai in this volume (part I, chapter 1). 3.  Yamaguchi Teruomi 山口輝臣, Meiji kokka to shūkyō 明治国家と宗教 (Tokyo: Tōkyō Daigaku Shuppankai, 1999), 29–55. 4.  On Inoue, see the chapter by Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm in this volume (part III, chapter 3). 5.  For “religion,” Unshō makes use throughout of the newly coined neologism (shūkyō), soon to become common parlance for the term from translations of European and American texts. 6.  The dharma king, the ruler who united the division of sovereign and saint, is synonymous with the emperor here. Unshō is referring nostalgically to a particular narrative about stable, Imperial hegemony over Japan at the time of Kūkai’s rise to courtly relevance in the Heian period, and the Shingon institution’s establishment and strong connection with the Imperial court, which ended in the warring against Imperial authorities during the Kamakura period. 7.  “Daigo” refers literally to “ghee,” used as an epithet of purity and quality in Sanskrit- and Chinese-language texts, and is also metonym of the School of Ancient Rites (Kogiha 古義派) within Shingon, referring to the Daigo Temple that served as its center. 8.  Stock phrase from commentaries. 9.  The three gates refer to a variety of triads within Buddhism, here they most directly refer to that of “mind, speech, and body,” which correlate to the practices in Shingon of mudra, mantra, and contemplative meditation (often on mandala).

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10.  Most likely a reference to the Records of the Secret Treasury (Hizōki 秘 蔵記), an introductory text on various aspects of practicing esoteric Buddhism attributed to Kūkai. Cf. Kōbō daishi zenshū 弘法大師全集, vol. 2 (Kōyachō, Wakayama: Mikkyō Bunka Kenkyūjo, 1965), 43. 11.  A sword, mirror, and jewel, said to have been passed down to the first emperor of Japan (Jinmu 神武) by the grandson of the “Great Kami” Amaterasu 天照, Ninigi no Mikoto 瓊瓊杵尊, who was sent down from the heavens to pacify Japan. This is recorded in the Kojiki 古事記 (712) and Nihon shoki (720), both texts brimming with new meaning at the center of nationalist discourse since the seeds of the Meiji Restoration were planted in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. 12.  In ancient records, Japan is often referred to as “the middle country” (nakatsukuni 中国), located somewhere between heaven and earth. 13.  Orig. 葦原中国者吾孫胤統御之地、宝祚之隆当与天壊無窮. Unshō seems to be truncating a quotation from the Nihon shoki, though it is unclear exactly which version of the legend he is working with. The now standardized version reads, “葦原千五百秋之瑞穗国、是吾子孫可王之地也。宣爾 皇孫就而治焉。行矣。宝祚之隆、当与天壌無窮者矣.” See Kojima Noriyuki 小島憲之 et al., eds., Nihon shoki, vol. 2, Shinpen Nihon koten bungaku zenshū 新編日本古典文学全集 3 (Tokyo: Shōgakukan, 1996), 130. 14.  These are the final two emperors in the list of the “Five Emperors” who ruled in China before the time of written records, according to accounts such as the Records of the Grand Historian (Shiji 史記) and the Book of Changes (Yijing 易経). 15.  These are, most likely, references to Christianity and the pope, respectively. 16.  Referring to the Ninna-ji 仁和寺, constructed in 888 by Emperor Uda 宇多 (867–931). It held great significance to the court at the time as the temple to which several emperors retired into monastic retreat. 17.  The edicts of emperors Uda and his immediate predecessor Kōkō 光孝 (830–887), who constructed temples claimed by the Shingon School and therefore affirm the Imperial commitment to its teachings. Another important referent here is Uda’s successor, Daigo 醍醐 (885–930), who is largely credited with affirming the position of Kūkai, who is quoted by Unshō above and came to occupy the position of founder and progenitor of the Shingon tradition in Japan.

chapter 1

A Buddhist Book of Genesis (1879) Sada Kaiseki Translated by Fabio Rambelli

Translator’s Introduction Sada Kaiseki 佐田介石 (1818–1882) was one of the leading Buddhist public intellectuals of the time.1 He founded and edited several newspapers and magazines, wrote articles and books, and gave well-attended lecture tours throughout Japan. His intellectual activities ranged from geography and astronomy to economics and cultural politics. In all these areas, Sada attempted to formulate original and autonomous intellectual positions by recombining traditional knowledge and new ideas in ways that were not completely subservient to contemporaneous Euro-American discourses—which, at least in his eyes, were dominated by Christian themes and images. Active at the time of formulation of fundamental modernization policies that would determine many future developments in Japan, Sada is a fascinating case of a Buddhist public intellectual who did not hesitate to strongly criticize the Meiji government and organize citizens’ movements to counter its policies. In the last years of his life, economics became the main focus of Sada’s intellectual and political activities. The most systematic treatment of his economic thought may be found in his Saibai keizairon 栽培 経済論 (Introduction to cultivation-mode economics, 1878–1879). For Sada, economics was a system of relations and communications pervading society, in which human beings were related to nature, and producers and consumers were related to one another; this integrated system allowed for goods to flow freely throughout the realm. He emphasized the duty of businesses to benefit all people and not only the entrepreneurs, the role of traditional technologies and local products (he opposed the import 143

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of foreign goods that might threaten traditional sensibilities and modes of production), and the importance of recreation (asobi 遊び or yūraku 遊楽) and free time. Sada was profoundly critical of Meiji government policies toward modernization, which he saw as a thoughtless and grotesque adoption of alien ways and fashions from the West—calendar, clothes, hairstyles, material objects, intellectual systems, sensibilities—which would ultimately have disastrous consequences for the Japanese people and their culture. However, Sada was not against progress, understood as the improvement of material and spiritual life; despite later characterizations of his thought, he was not even against some form of modernization, the process known in Japan at the time as “civilization and enlightenment” (bunmei kaika 文明開化). However, he believed that there is no single path to progress and, in particular, that the Western way to development was definitely not appropriate for Japan. He argued that since Japan and the West were very different in culture, environment, and national character, Japan had everything to lose from its inclusion within a global commercial network dominated by Western powers. Sada tried to put his ideas into practice by organizing an aggressive campaign to boycott foreign goods, an effort in which he was engaged until the very end of his life. Despite his emphasis on Buddhist thought and values, Sada was a philosophical materialist. As an expert in Buddhist cosmology and cosmogony, he subscribed to the classical Buddhist theories, according to which the universe is in a constant and incessant cycle of creation, growth, degeneration, and destruction. Moreover, all entities and beings in the universe are the result of the combination of material atoms (mijin 微塵) in an eternal movement of aggregation and disaggregation. The first atoms in such movement existed originally and spontaneously in nature as separate seeds of specific things, and are thus not the result of creation by intelligent design. This endless cycle and its materialistic underpinnings are also described in the text translated below. In fact, despite the complexity of his thought and political interventions, Sada is best remembered today as the last advocate of Buddhist traditional cosmography, known at the time as bonreki 梵暦 (lit. “Indic calendrical sciences”), which he developed in an original way. Bonreki was a Buddhist response to the penetration of Western astronomy and geography into Japan. Western astronomy was deeply troubling to Buddhist intellectuals, many of whom argued that, once the structure of the



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Buddhist cosmos was negated, the existence of hells and heavens would also be questioned, and soteriology, the very essence of Buddhism, would eventually collapse.2 Bonreki is normally understood as a reactionary and nationalistic form of Buddhist fundamentalism developed in response to modernization and the impact of Western culture in Japan. However, it is possible to argue that Sada proposed an intellectually challenging position, namely, an attempt to adapt Western science to the Buddhist worldview. For instance, he stressed that all astronomical theories, including modern Western ones, are essentially hypotheses based on interpretations of experience, which is limited and potentially fallacious. He also proposed rational objections to Western hypotheses based on his own observations and experience. Many of these aspects are present in the text translated below, entitled A Buddhist Book of Genesis (Bukkyō sōseiki 仏教創世記). In it, Sada endeavors to counter Christian accounts about the origin of the world as described in the biblical Book of Genesis, which nevertheless remains only a pretext throughout and is never engaged with in depth; his real target, in fact, is Christian-derived Western cosmology, predicated upon the existence of a Creator God. In the text, Sada combines disparate Buddhist teachings toward the creation of a unified cosmic theory, which he argues is strong and rational enough to counter more superficial and fallacious Western ideas. Sada argues that creationist cosmology goes against reason and common sense—after all, why create natural disasters, unproductive fields, and sick and stupid people? Instead, he offers an alternative explanation based on his own readings of Buddhist classical accounts of the formation and destruction of the universe, and the development—or, rather, degeneration—of human beings. Crucial moments in his narrative—such as the emergence of seeds that would develop into distinct objects and beings, the arising of cosmic winds, and even the degeneration of men—are presented, matter-of-factly, as mere spontaneous developments following a preordained cosmic law, in a way that is uncannily similar to the universal rules postulated by modern physics. He strengthens his arguments by examples drawn from everyday experience, with the assumption that what happens in daily reality reflects broader cosmic determinations. The text is written as a dialogue, in which a supporter of Christian/ Western ideas questions Sada about Buddhist thought;3 the tone is polemical and at times even sarcastic. Simple examples are chosen to

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captivate the audience and to show that Buddhist cosmology is not an abstruse and remote field, but something that can be used effectively in modern times. Interestingly, Sada combines teachings about cosmography (cosmic cycles and the four kalpas, Mt. Sumeru, etc.) with ancient Buddhist narratives about the origin of human beings, society, and inequality, which show an uncannily Marxian flavor (transition from food gathering to agriculture, primitive accumulation, formation of feudal society). In particular, Sada refers, without mentioning it, to an early Buddhist scripture entitled Aggañña Sutta (Scripture on primary causes) in Pali and Shōengyō 小縁経 (Short scripture on secondary factors) in the Japanese Buddhist Canon.4 This scripture explains the origin of human labor, private property, the formation of castes, and, ultimately, the establishment of monarchy as a process of degeneration caused by excessive attention to bodily matters. Interestingly, society is envisioned as the result of a social contract—an agreement binding all members about basic rules preserved by a ruler elected by the people (called Mahāsammata, “great elect”).5 Sada’s mobilization of classical Buddhist teachings creates an intellectual world and a social space that are profoundly different from the experience of Christian/Western modernization. In Sada’s vision, there is no creator god, only cosmic principles at work; the human condition is not the result of a random act of transgression caused by sinfulness (why would an omnipotent and omniscient god create sinful beings anyway?), but of bodily and social determinations (also, in turn, motivated by more fundamental and inexorable cosmic laws). We all know that Sada’s passionate efforts failed. Japan is now a highly modern, even technolatric society, and Buddhist cosmography, especially in Sada’s version of it, is almost completely forgotten. Still, some of the issues he raised remain pertinent, and not completely solved even today: For instance, is Western modern science a manifestation of an absolute truth, or just another way to describe fallible experience? More generally, can the intellectual heritage of a complex cultural system, such as Buddhism, be completely dismissed and erased from cultural memory? We can also think in terms of counterfactual history as to what would have happened if the Japanese government, instead of banning the teaching of Buddhist cosmography in the early Meiji period, had adopted a more nuanced approach, in which Christianbased modern science was taught together with Buddhist atheistic formulations.



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Translation Buddhism does not maintain that there is a Creator who made the universe and all things in it. If, as in Christianity, we assume that a Creator made all things in the universe, then we cannot avoid slandering this Creator as responsible for the great evils and calamities of our world. If we believe that He created heaven, then He has also been responsible, from the days of old, for the heavy rains that make crops rot and the extended droughts that wither them, for the bad winds that destroy people’s houses, ruining the crops, and thus bringing upon the realm those bad years that make people starve. He is also responsible for heavy rains that cause rivers to overflow and flood the land, breaking dams and destroying houses and fields, thereupon bringing suffering upon the people. It is impossible not to explain these calamities as caused by the Creator when He created heaven. Moreover, if we believe that the Creator created earth, then He should have made the roads flat, so that people could travel easily; why create those steep and narrow mountain roads so difficult for people to walk? He should have created only fertile fields, so that crops might grow abundant—why create vast deserts where no tree, not even a blade of grass, can grow, or bad lands with low productivity? [. . .] Accordingly, it goes against reason to argue that a Creator exists who created heaven and earth. It is also very difficult to accept the idea that a Creator created all things. If a Creator had indeed existed who created humankind, He should have made only men of great wisdom and goodness like Yao and Shun; why did He have to create evil and immoral men such as Jie of Xia, Zhou of Yin, and Dao Zhi?6 Also, if a Creator existed who created humans, He should have created only beauties like Yang Guifei 楊貴妃 or Ono no Komachi 小野小町, [but] why did He have to create ugly hags who will never be able to marry? Again, if a Creator created humankind, He should have created only the wealthy and noble. Why did He have to create many who are poor and lowly? He should have created only intelligent people. Why also create so many idiots? He should have created only the strong and healthy. Why create the weak and sick? [. . .] As everybody can see, nine things out of ten are bad, and barely one out of ten is good. Therefore, if we believe that a Creator exists who created humankind, then we have to conclude that He likes evil and dislikes goodness. [. . .] For this reason, in Buddhism we do not say that there is

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a Creator of everything. Instead, heaven, earth, and the myriad things all have seeds of their own kind, and each is born out of its own seeds, and not created by a Creator. That is why Buddhism says that things become, not that they are made. [. . .] There exist different seeds for the environment (mountains, rivers, and the earth), animals (birds, beasts, fishes, and insects), and plants (grass, trees, and grains), and each of them is born out of its own seeds, not of other seeds. If one sprouts and eventually ripens out of a seed of a different kind, wouldn’t it be like an eggplant being born out of a melon vine? Things do not sprout and ripen out of seeds of different kinds: bamboo is born out of bamboo seeds, and a pine tree is born out of pine tree seeds. Cats are born out of cat seeds, and dogs are born out of dog seeds. Thus, each of the myriad things sprouts and finally ripens out of seeds of its own kind: this is a self-evident truth. Who would dispute it? There is in no way a Creator who created things. Now, if we look back at the time of Genesis from the perspective of what we now know, we find that things back then did not originate in a way different from today; in this case too there were different kinds of seeds, and the myriad things were all born out of their own each individual seed. The seeds of each individual thing at the time of Genesis (Buddhism calls Genesis “initial kalpa” or gōsho 劫初) are called “unconditioned seeds” (hōnishu 法爾種). [. . .] The time in which heaven and earth and the myriad things begin to appear is called in Buddhism “formation kalpa” ( jōgō 成劫 [a different term for “initial kalpa”]). This period lasts for about twenty medium kalpas. On this matter, one should also know about the four kalpas, namely formation, stability, destruction, and emptiness. The time period in which this world begins to appear is the “formation kalpa”; the time period in which the world is fully formed and stable without alterations is called “stability kalpa” ( jūgō 住劫); the time period in which the world is destroyed is called “destruction kalpa” (egō 壊劫); and the time period in which the world has been completely destroyed and only emptiness exists is called “empty [or “emptiness”] kalpa” (kūgō 空劫). Among these four kalpas, the formation kalpa is the [equivalent to] Genesis in Buddhism. However, it is impossible to understand in detail the formation kalpa without first gaining detailed knowledge of the destruction kalpa, which I will therefore explain. The destruction kalpa is the time period during which this world is destroyed by the three great calamities (sansai 三災)—so utterly destroyed that not even a speck of dust remains.



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[. . .] The great calamities that occur during the destruction kalpa are fire, water, and wind. [The world is gradually and systematically destroyed first by fires, then flood, and finally by raging winds that disperse anything that might have survived the two previous calamities.] The wind calamity refers to powerful winds that arise in the four and eight directions, clash with each other, and sweep away all debris of everything burned by the fire calamity, to the last speck of ash, and everything turns into emptiness. [. . .] The time period after the wind calamity [. . .] when only emptiness remains is called empty kalpa. This period also lasts for twenty medium kalpas. After that, because of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle ( jinen hōni no yakusoku 自然法爾 ノ約束) that operates from the distant beginningless time when the material world was born, out of the infinite emptiness initially came to being the realm of Bonseten 梵世天, the First Meditation Heaven. [Sada continues describing the formation of the various heavenly realms.] Now, I will discuss the formation of the realms on earth ( jigo 地居) where sentient beings live (The term jigo here refers to everywhere from the top of Mt. Sumeru to the muken jigoku 無間地獄, or “Uninterrupted Hell”). Because of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle that operates from an infinite past when the material world (kisekai 器世界, the physical environment or sekai kokudo 世界国土) was born, a subtle breeze suddenly arises amid infinite emptiness. This is a premonition that the physical environment is about to appear. This breeze follows the sun and the moon and becomes increasingly stronger and more valiant; what began as a modest breeze blowing in a narrow space becomes a vast and boundless wind of growing depth, ultimately reaching one billion six hundred million yojanas. [. . .] The winds that originated at the beginning of the world converge from the four and eight directions into one place, and ceaselessly clash until they fuse with each other and coalesce into a solid wind mass (kaze no katamari 風団), so thick that not even a single hair can fit inside it, and the winds can no longer move. This is what is meant by the saying “extreme movement results in stasis” (dō kiwamarite sei ni itaru 動極マリ テ静ニ至ル). This wind in the initial kalpa is so powerful that if the

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earth was placed on top of it, it would still have some force left. These winds coil around like dragons and remain suspended in space; they support the weight of our world and keep it level. This is what is called Wind Wheel ( fūrin 風輪) [a circular layer of wind mass]. (This wind layer rotates like a wheel, hence its name.) [Long discussion of wind in relation to dominant cosmological theories] When the Wind Wheel is fully formed, suddenly black clouds appear that fill the sky and pour rain on the wind layer. Like the axle of a cartwheel, this rain keeps falling for a long time, and water accumulates for 1,100,020,000 yojanas. At this point, rainfall stops, and fiery winds blow again on the surface of the water layer, causing powerful waves that reach up to the sky. Waves clash for a very long time, and eventually the water surface solidifies into a 300,020,000 yojana layer, which ultimately becomes the Earth Wheel layer. This is what in the Abhidharmakośabhāṣya is called “gold wheel” (konrin 金輪) and, in the Yogācārabhūmiśāstra, “gold earth wheel” (konshō jirin 金性地輪). [. . .] When the gold layer is fully formed, because of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle operating from an infinite past, great black clouds appear and pour different types of rain. These rains contain the seeds that generate gold, silver, pearls, jade, rocks, earth, and sand. This rain is also like the axle of a cartwheel. When accumulated rain­ water fills the surface of the gold layer, rain suddenly stops. Then, fiery winds arise and cause huge waves that reach up to the sky. These waves then transform themselves into precious stones (kingin shugyoku 金銀珠 玉) and regular soil (ganseki dosha 岩石土砂). At this moment, because of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle operating from an infinite past, wind arises again (wind that sifts through and separates elements that are mixed up), and selects out of all miscellaneous stones the four most beautiful and pure among them—gold, silver, lapis lazuli, and crystal—and with those, it gives shape to Mt. Sumeru. That is why the southern side of Mt. Sumeru is made of [blue] lapis lazuli, the north side of yellow gold, the east side of white silver, and the west side of red crystal. [. . .] When the physical environment is completely formed, the beings abiding in Ābhāsvara Heaven ( J. Gokukōjōten 極光浄天; the Second Meditation Heaven in the Realm of Forms) having exhausted their life span, are reborn down in Trāyastriṃśa Heaven ( J. Tōriten 忉利天), and from



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there, next, [further down] in the Heaven of the Four Kings (these two heavens, while being abodes of heavenly beings, are earthly heavens— located on earth, not in the sky; thus, they generate the sentient beings after the formation of Mt. Sumeru); next, beings abiding in Ābhāsvara Heaven, having exhausted their life span, are reborn in the four continents of Mt. Sumeru, which are the abode of human beings (ninshu 人趣). Subsequently, beings are born in the animal realm, in the realm of hungry ghosts, and in the hells, and when sentient beings are born in all hells [. . .] the world of sentient beings is fully formed. The time span from the beginning of the formation of the material world with Bonseten (the First Meditation Heaven) to the rebirth of the first sentient being in the Uninterrupted Hell (muken jigoku), is called Formation Kalpa ( jōgō); it lasts for twenty medium kalpas. [. . .] As for the people in the initial kalpa, since it was heavenly beings in the Realm of Forms (Ābhāsvara Heaven) who were reincarnated down as humans in the Realm of Desire (yokukai 欲界), there could originally be no distinction between men and women (sex distinctions between men and women are exclusive to the Realm of Desire; in the Realm of Forms and above there are no males and females). Therefore, people in the initial kalpa, like heavenly beings in the Realm of Form, were beautiful and with perfectly shaped bodies, and among them there were no people of defective roots who were dumb, blind, or deaf. All people put forth light from their body, a light that illuminated the world. Because of that, at that time there was no sun, moon, or any other type of light. Also, because all people had supernatural powers ( jinzū 神通), they were able to fly freely in the sky. At this time, they did not yet eat grains or other foodstuff, but their only food was joy and happiness (kiraku 喜楽). [. . .] After a very long time in which people’s food in the initial kalpa was joy and happiness, suddenly on the surface of the earth something called “flavorful earth” ( jimi 地味) appeared. Until then, no one knew that the flavorful earth was a food. One day, a human who by nature (umaretsuki 稟性) enjoyed eating, smelled its aroma, picked it up and tried to eat it, and realized that its flavor was delicious. He informed the others, and everybody rushed in to get to eat it. This is the beginning of eating and drinking for people in the initial kalpa. As a consequence of eating and drinking, the body of the original people grew stiffer and heavier, and suddenly they were no longer able to fly. Also, as a consequence of eating, their flesh became coarser and tougher; their skin lost

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its brightness, and its light spontaneously disappeared. At this time, the world became truly dark. Then, because of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle of the initial kalpa operating from an infinite past, in the middle of the sky above the eastern continent of Videha, the sun disk suddenly appeared and illuminated the day; and in the middle of the sky above the western continent of Godaniya, the moon disk suddenly appeared and illuminated the night. This is the beginning of the existence of the sun and the moon in the world. [. . .] A long time after it appeared, the flavorful soil disappeared forever; instead, “soil mochi” ( jihei 地餅) spontaneously appeared. After a long time, this also disappeared and “forest wisteria” (rintō 林藤) (a type of grape, that is, some kind of tree fruit) appeared; after a long time, this disappeared too. Next, a fragrant rice appeared spontaneously, without [anyone] planting or cultivating it. This rice had no chaff [. . .]. People rushed in to get this rice and eat it. This is the origin of grain eating. However, the flavorful soil, soil mochi, and forest wisteria that beings had eaten until then were all extremely clean and delicate foods, and when they entered their body it was like oil poured on sand; the smell of food did not transpire out of their pores and left no residue. Because of that, there was neither urine nor feces. But grain food was different; it was coarse and heavy, and its residue accumulated in the intestines and became feces and urine. Thus, by virtue of a spontaneous and unconditioned principle operating since an infinite time, in the human body for the first time appeared the penis, the vagina, and the anus: penis and vagina to put out urine, and the anus to put out the feces. This is [also] the moment that marked the beginning of the way of intercourse between men and women. Thereafter, all human beings came to be born after residing in their mother’s womb. [. . .] One day, following the gradual decrease in the karmic virtue of sentient beings, the fragrant chaffless rice that for a long time had spon­taneously appeared, suddenly vanished. Next, rice with chaff spon­ taneously appeared, without need to plant or cultivate it. [. . .] Up until this point, people were without desire and did not accumulate things. But one day, when society was moving closer to final degeneration (dandan sue ni omomuku ni itarite 段々末ニ趣クニ至テ), there was a lazy man who thought it a nuisance to go out every day to get the rice he needed for eating, and began to accumulate enough rice for several days. Everyone else wanted to do the same. Until then, there had been no distinction between what belonged to oneself and to others



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such as in [the idea of] private property (waga mono 我物), but from that moment on, people began to compete with each other to accumulate food for more and more days and, for the first time, the spirit of private property appeared. Because greed appeared, the karmic merit of sentient beings decreased exponentially, and the rice with chaff that grew spontaneously suddenly and, equally spontaneously, no longer grew. At that moment, one man used that rice as a seed to cultivate a field, and began to think about methods to plant it. That was the origin of methods to cultivate the five grains by ploughing the fields. At the time, fields were divided equally among all people without distinctions between those who had plenty and little. However, as society kept moving closer to final degeneration, the human mind became more and more defiled. People began to strongly protect their fields so that others would not take them, and the desire to steal other people’s lands [also] manifested itself. This was the beginning of theft. Until then, the human mind was simple and docile and had no desire for stealing. At this time, the people gathered to discuss the situation, and chose among themselves a virtuous man and elevated him as “master of fields” in order to restrain theft and protect all fields in the realm. This is the beginning of the appointment of land stewards ( jitō 地頭) and landowners (ryōshu 領主). This master of fields ruled the realm with equanimity and without personal interest, and loved his subjects as his children. Since all felt gratitude toward him, everyone submitted to his virtue and called the master of fields the Great Sammata King.7 At this time, there was not yet a distinction between rich and poor. When this distinction gradually emerged, robberies also became more rampant. Then prisons were established for the first time, and punishments were decided in order to deal with criminals; light offenders were flogged, and heavy offenders were killed. This was the first time that people were killed. Criminals, afraid of these punishments, began to tell lies (this happens when the mind and the mouth differ); this is the beginning of the sin of lying (mōgo 妄語). Until then, no one ever lied. This is an outline of the Buddhist Genesis. [. . .]

Notes Translation based on the text included in Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei 明治 仏教思想資料集成, ed., Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei henshū iinkai 明治 仏教思想資料集成編集委員会, vol. 7 (Kyoto: Dōhōsha, 1983), 22–37.

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1.  For biographical information on Sada, see Tanigawa Yutaka 谷川穣, “ ‘Kijin’ Sada Kaiseki no kindai” 「奇人」佐田介石の近代, Jinbun gakuhō 人 文学報 87 (December 2002): 57–102; Fabio Rambelli, “Sada Kaiseki: An Alternative Discourse on Buddhism, Modernity, and Nationalism in the Early Meiji Period,” in Politics and Religion in Japan: Red Sun, White Lotus, ed. Roy Starrs (London: Palgrave MacMillan, 2011), 104–142; Fabio Rambelli, “Buddhism and the Capitalist Transformation in Modern Japan: Sada Kaiseki (1818–1882), Uchiyama Gudō (1874–1911), and Itō Shōshin (1876– 1963),” in Buddhist Modernities: Re-inventing Tradition in the Globalizing Modern World, ed. Hanna Havnevik et al. (London and New York: Routledge, 2017), 33–50. 2.  On the bonreki movement, see Okada Masahiko, “Vision and Reality: Buddhist Cosmographic Discourse in Nineteenth Century Japan,” PhD diss., Stanford University, 1997; Okada Masahiko 岡田正彦, Wasurerareta bukkyō tenmongaku: Jūkyū-seiki no Nihon ni okeru bukkyō sekaizō 忘れられた仏 教天文学：十九世紀の日本における仏教世界像 (Nagoya: Buitsū soryūshon [v2-solution], 2010). 3.  For reasons of space, and in order to avoid repetitions, the questions have been elided from the translation presented here. 4.  T 1, 1:36b–39a. Longer versions of this scripture include the chapter “Se honnen-bon 世本縁品” of Sekikyō 世起経 (T 1, 1:145a–149c), and the chapter “Saishō-bon 最勝品” of Kise inbongyō 起世因本経 (T 1, 25:413a–420a). 5.  See Steven Collins, “The Discourse on What Is Primary (AggaññaSutta): An Annotated Translation,” Journal of Indian Philosophy 21, no. 4 (December 1993): 301–393; Fabio Rambelli, “The Vicissitudes of the Mahāsammata in East Asia: The Buddhist Origin Myth of Kingship and Echoes of a Republican Imagination,” Medieval History Journal, special issue on “Resistance in East Asian Religions” (edited by Dominic Steavu), 17, no. 2 (Fall 2014): 1–21. 6.  Jie 桀 and Zhou 紂 (also known as Dixin 帝辛) were the last rulers of the Xia and Yin dynasties, respectively; Dao Zhi 盗跖 (Robber Zhi) was a slave rebel who led a band of brigands during the spring and autumn period in ancient China. 7.  This is a reference to Mahāsammata, the first elected ruler according to the Aggañña Sutta (see above).

chapter 2

“The Gist of Indian Philosophy” (1887) Hara Tanzan Translated by Dylan Luers Toda

Translator’s Introduction Hara Tanzan was born in 1819 in Iwaki domain’s village of Taira (present-day Iwaki City, Fukushima Prefecture).1 He learned classical Chinese from his parents when he was younger, and eventually went to Edo to learn Chinese studies (kangaku 漢学) at Satō Issai’s 佐藤一斎 (1772– 1859) Shōheikō 昌平黌, among other places. There, around the mid- to late 1830s, he enrolled in a school run by Taki Motokata 多紀元堅 (1795–1857) to study medicine. It is said that the first major turning point in his life came sometime during the 1840s, when he engaged in a debate with the Buddhist scholar-priest Kyōsan 京璨/京燦 after agreeing that the loser would become the other person’s disciple. Tanzan lost, and, staying true to his word, became a Zen priest having been convinced of Buddhism’s academic strength. He subsequently would study and practice under multiple Zen teachers, and he even spent time learning Tendai doctrine on Mt. Hiei during the late 1840s. The second turning point in Tanzan’s life came after becoming the head priest in 1856 of Shinshōji 心性寺 in Kyoto, when he had a discussion regarding the location of the mind (kokoro 心) with the rangaku 蘭 学 physician Komori Sōji 小森宗二 (1804–1862). This encounter with Western medicine convinced him that Buddhism was incorrect in locating the mind in the chest, and he felt the need to reinterpret Buddhism within this new framework. This is reflected in “The Gist of Indian Philosophy” (Indo tetsugaku no yōryō 印度哲学の要領), as will be discussed below. He thus began his study of Western medicine.

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After encountering legal issues and the removal of his priestly status in 1873 due to an affair involving a publication, he worked in various capacities around the Tokyo area, spanning from fortune-teller to teacher of the head of the Honganji School. In 1879, he was invited by Katō Hiroyuki 加藤弘之 (1836–1916) to lecture on Buddhist scriptures at the then recently founded University of Tokyo, a prestigious position he held until 1888. Perhaps due to this, his priestly status was restored a year later in 1880. During this time Tanzan became very active in Japan’s energetic academic world, participating in meetings of the Philosophical Society (Tetsugakukai 哲学会), among other groups. He also worked as the head of the Sōtōshū Daigakurin 曹洞宗大学林 (present-day Komazawa University), after which he briefly served in an administrative capacity in the Sōtō sect. He passed away at the age of 72 in 1892. “The Gist of Indian Philosophy” was a lecture given by Tanzan at a Philosophical Society meeting held at Imperial University in 1887. As is the case with many other writings by Buddhist intellectuals of his time (such as Inoue Enryō 井上円了 and Murakami Senshō 村上専精), it focuses on defining “Buddhism,” in this case a “psychosomatic”2 and medicalized one centered on “individual cultivation” and the “mind.”3 The title might first catch the reader’s attention: why the gist of “Indian Philosophy” and not “Buddhism”? As Tanzan himself approvingly notes, his classes on Buddhism at the Imperial University were taught under the heading of “Indian Philosophy.”4 However, as is clear from his earlier statements, Tanzan was not simply unthinkingly adopting this title: from his perspective, Buddhism was not centered on faith in the unknown, and thus not a religion. Rather, it was a philosophy, a field of study (gaku 学), on “the nature of the mind.”5 Tanzan uses a line from the Nirvana Sūtra (“Not doing evil, sincerely and reverently practicing various goods, and purifying one’s mind: thus are the teachings of the Buddha”) in order to begin his further in-depth discussion of what he saw as Buddhism’s key concept, the mind. After mentioning various related Buddhist (and Western) doctrines and terms, Tanzan describes meditation, which, for him, was the core of Buddhist practice. While Robert Sharf has argued that “religious experience” is a concept that “turns out to be of relatively recent, and distinctively Western, provenance,”6 in Tanzan’s case, his emphasis on individual meditative experience reflects influences from Edo-period Confucian thought.7 However, the experience—he uses the compound jikken 実験, which also means “scientific experiment”8—that this



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meditation entailed was different from the mental bliss often associated with the practice today: not only did it involve the manipulation of physical flows, it also simultaneously cured disease. This reflects his psychosomatic understanding of Buddhism. According to Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, Tanzan tried to link physiological knowledge regarding the brain and spinal cord with consciousness-only thought.9 He located the Buddhist mind of enlightenment within the body and saw the alaya consciousness (arayashiki 阿頼耶識) as spine mucus. When they mix together, combining consciousness (wagōshiki 和合識) is formed. This consciousness acts as the energy for life, flowing throughout the body. However, if it stops flowing it causes spiritual affliction and illness. Thus, in the following text, Tanzan states that if one uses “firm meditative power” to address “the source of spiritual affliction and sickness,” “they will completely dissolve away, their traces eliminated.” While Tanzan’s understanding of Buddhism was not inherited by the more textually and belief-oriented next generation of modern Buddhists, his disciple Harada Genryū’s 原田玄竜 (1838–1928) modified form of it helped shape alternative medicine during the Taishō period (1912–1926). Furthermore, in his thought we find an early example of an attempt to link meditation and science that reminds us of the creative doctrinal work inevitably involved in such endeavors.

Translation India is famous for being a country with a very ancient civilization. Of the religions (shūkyō 宗教) popular now, Buddhism, Judaism, and so on are the oldest. Now let us consider the nature of Buddhism. It was by clarifying the true principle of one’s intrinsic nature ( jishō no jitsuri 自 性の実理) that Śākyamuni established Buddhism. He referred to the essence of the mind’s nature (shinshō no jittai 心性の実体) as bodhi, tathatā, and buddha-dhātu, thus presenting various teachings. When Śākyamuni appeared in this world in ancient and uncivilized times, people still worshipped strange and mysterious [things], and this eventually contaminated [Buddhism]. [Nevertheless,] tathatā, bodhi, and so on certainly do not [pertain to the] strange and mysterious. With the separation of fields (gakka bunritsu 学科分立) that took place in later times, generally everyone came to present Buddhism as a religion rather than taking the experiential ( jikken 実験) as its basis. However, Buddhism does not take as its aim blind belief in ghostly

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realms (yūmyō kōbō 幽冥荒茫) like the other religions. [Henry S.] Olcott states,10 “The word ‘religion’11 is [most] inappropriate to apply to Buddhism [. . .] Buddhism [. . .] is a moral philosophy.” I would quickly note that it is appropriate to call [Buddhism] a “philosophy of the nature of the mind (shinshō tetsugaku 心性哲学).”12 It is the most fitting that at this school [the Imperial University (of Tokyo)], its [name] has been changed to “Indian philosophy.” In any case, [Buddhism] is not something outside of the mind and body. I wish to now provide an overview of [Buddhism], and thus must first provide a survey of the [kinds of] beings that encounter the teachings ( jinrui taiki 人類対機). First, generally speaking, there are five types thereof: humans, devas, śrāvakas, pratyekas, and bodhisattvas. There is a passage [in the scriptures] that applies to all these five kinds of beings: “Not doing evil, sincerely and reverently practicing various goods, and purifying one’s mind: thus are the teachings of the Buddha.”13 The first two phrases are rules for beings in general and are not limited to Buddhism. They only distinguish between good and evil. (At present I will not address the sphere of good and evil.) The phrase “purifying one’s mind” is truly the most important part of Buddhism. The mind has various names. In Japan it is simply kokoro こゝろ. In India, to begin with, terms such as the prior five consciousnesses (visual, auditory, olfactory, gustatory, and tactile), the sixth mental consciousness (ishiki 意識), the seventh manas consciousness (manashiki 末那識), the eighth alaya consciousness (arayashiki 阿頼耶 識), and so on were used. In Chinese, one says xinyi 心意, jingshen 精神, and so on. Western psychology divides it into the three primary capacities of knowledge, emotion, and intellect. Buddhism divides [the mind’s] essence into pure and impure (as well as into deluded and enlightened and into arising and ceasing). The general meaning of this is as follows: the mind has a defiled and muddied quality, and thus if one does not purify it completely and eliminate this [quality] then one will not reach the mind’s nature (shinshō 心性) of ultimate peace. (This is not discussed by other religions or sciences.) In short, there are three methods for eliminating this [quality]: morality, meditation, and wisdom (kai jō e 戒定慧). An ancient person made a metaphor: morality is like capturing a thief (the thief is a metaphor for defilement), meditation is like tying up the thief, and wisdom is like killing the thief.14 Meditation is held to be of utmost importance in Buddhism. Different names for meditation include shamata 裟魔陀 (Skt. śamatha), zenna



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禅那 (Skt. dhyāna), bimashana 毘魔婆那 (Skt. vipaśyanā), and sanmadai 三魔提 (Skt. samādhi). I will now generally outline its effects. When I was young, I suffered from the following symptoms: a weak stomach and lungs, indigestion, and frequently being short of breath. Taking medicine did not completely heal them. Following the words of a certain teacher, I trained practicing meditative concentration (zenjō 禅定) and gradually became healthy. I then finally discovered that spiritual affliction and sickness have the same source (wakubyō dōgen 惑病同源), the differences between the brain and spinal cord (nōseki itai 脳脊異体), and so on. The pinnacle of meditative concentration is called “adamantine absorption” (kongō sanmai 金剛三昧; Skt. vajra-samādhi) ([adamantine] means firm sharpness). Within the mind and body—the mind’s location is the brain, chest, and stomach, while the rest is the body—if one uses firm meditative power on the source of spiritual or physical afflictions, then, just like putting boiling water on ice and snow, they will completely dissolve away, their traces eliminated. I always say that it is probably difficult to completely cure the likes of tuberculosis without this method. Therefore, recently I have been dividing the subjects of the teachings (kyōka 教科) into five parts: (1) stomach affliction-sickness, (2) chest affliction-sickness, (3) brain affliction-sickness, (4) spine sickness, and (5) all-body sickness. First one begins with the belly, and gradually heals it through practice. Only when the source of sickness and the basis of spiritual affliction have melted away does one have a sound and healthy mind and body. Olcott says, “Buddhism [seeks] the cause of our sufferings, and the way to escape from them.”15 However, fully escaping from them is not an easy endeavor.

Notes This is a translation of Akiyama Goan 秋山悟庵, ed., Tanzan oshō zenshū 坦 山和尚全集 (Tokyo: Kōyūkan, 1909), 54–56. The text has been divided into separate paragraphs for ease of reading. 1.  This introduction uses bibliographical information on Tanzan found in Orion Klautau, Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku 近代日本思想 としての仏教史学 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2012), 58–61. 2.  Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, “The Birth of Japanese Mind Cure Methods,” in Religion and Psychotherapy in Modern Japan, ed. Christopher Harding, Iwata Fumiaki, and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi (New York: Routledge, 2015), 80.

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3.  Klautau, Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku, 66. 4.  There are a variety of possible reasons why this name was adopted, including concerns relating to the separation of church and state, the Meiji government’s desire to strike a middle ground between those advocating the need for a Confucian moral education and a modern Western education, the wish to avoid demands from Christians that they have their own University of Tokyo course, and University president Katō Hiroyuki’s 加 藤弘之 (1836–1916) negative view of “religion” and positive view of “philosophy.” Like Tanzan, Katō saw Buddhism as the latter and focused on the acquisition of knowledge. See Dylan Toda, “Kindai bukkyō gainen o meguru ichi kōsatsu: ‘Tetsugaku toshite no bukkyō’ naru gensetsu no seisei to tenkai” 近代仏教概念をめぐる一考察：「哲学としての仏教」なる言説 の生成と展開, Kindai bukkyō 近代仏教 21 (2014): 98–100. Regarding the subsequent spread of a discourse that saw Buddhism as philosophy, see ibid., 100–108. 5.  To make this point, Tanzan quotes the Japanese translation of Henry Olcott’s (1832–1907) A Buddhist Catechism (Imadate Tosui 今立吐酔, trans., Bukkyō mondō 仏教問答 [Tokyo: Bussho Shuppankai, 1886], 706; original: A Buddhist Catechism, 42nd ed. [Sri Lanka: Ministry of Cultural Affairs, (1881) 1908], 1). Regarding Henry Olcott, see Stephen Prothero, The White Buddhist: The Asian Odyssey of Henry Steel Olcott (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1996). On his lecture tours in Japan, refer to Judith Snodgrass, Presenting Japanese Buddhism to the West: Orientalism, Occidentalism, and the Columbian Exposition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003); Satō Tetsurō 佐藤哲朗, Dai Ajia shisō katsugeki: Bukkyō ga musunda, mō hitotsu no kindaishi 大アジア思想活劇：仏教が結んだ、もうひとつの近代 史 (Tokyo: Sanga, 2008); and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, “Japanese Buddhism and the Theosophical Movement: A General View,” in Hirai Kinza ni okeru Meiji bukkyō no kokusaika ni kansuru shūkyōshi, bunkashiteki kenkyū 平井金三に おける明治仏教の国際化に関する宗教史・文化史的研究 (Grants-in-Aid for Scientific Research [Category C] no. 16520060, 2007). 6.  Robert H. Sharf, “Experience,” in Critical Terms in Religious Studies, ed. Mark C. Taylor (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), 98. 7.  Klautau, Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku, 66. 8.  Sharf also argues that discourses of religious experience have acted as a buffer against empiricism (“Experience,” 95). However, this compound and Tanzan’s medical-influenced understanding of Buddhism suggest that experience can also be used not to shut out but to engage with empiricism, which, after all, is also concerned with knowledge that arises from experience.



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9.  On Tanzan’s medicalized understanding of Buddhism, see Justin Stein, “Psychosomatic Buddhist Medicine at the Dawn of Modern Japan: Hara Tanzan’s ‘On the Difference between the Brain and the Spinal Cord’ (1869),” in Buddhism and Medicine: An Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Sources, ed. C. Pierce Salguero (New York: Columbia University Press, 2019), 38–44; Yoshinaga Shin’ichi 吉永進一, “Hara Tanzan no shinriteki zen: Sono shisō to rekishiteki eikyō” 原坦山の心理的禅：その思想と歴史的影響, Shintai kagaku 身体科学 15, no. 2 (2006): 5–13; and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi, “Japanese Mind Cure Methods,” 79–84. 10.  I have used words in brackets and ellipses to indicate the minor differences between the Japanese translation and Olcott’s original text. Emphases added by Tanzan. 11.  The original Japanese first spells religion in katakana (rerijon レリジ ョン) and then includes the term’s Japanese translation in parentheses (shūkyō 宗教). For scholarship in English on the concept of religion in the Meiji period, see Jun’ichi Isomae, Religious Discourse in Modern Japan: Religion, State, and Shintō, trans. Galen Amstutz and Lynne E. Riggs (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2014); Jason Ā. Josephson, The Invention of Religion in Japan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012); Trent E. Maxey, The “Greatest Problem”: Religion and State Formation in Meiji Japan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014); and Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015). 12.  Emphasis in original. Orion Klautau argues that Tanzan’s assertion in this passage is as follows: while the moral aspect of Buddhism emphasized by Olcott via the phrase “moral philosophy” is important, Buddhism actually goes further to consider the ultimate nature of the mind (Klautau, Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku, 72). However, Tanzan may have been interpreting “moral philosophy” (dōgi tetsugaku 道義哲学) to mean “psychology” (shinrigaku 心理学)—they were synonyms in the West during the nineteenth century (Yoshinaga, “Japanese Buddhism and the Theosophical Movement,” 82), which is reflected in various Meiji-period dictionary entries for the latter (Sōgō Masaaki 惣郷正明 and Hida Yoshifumi 飛田良文, eds., Meiji no kotoba jiten 明治のことば辞典 [Tokyo: Tōkyōdō Shuppan, 1986])— and using the phrase “philosophy of the nature of the mind” (shinshō tetsu­ gaku 心性哲学) not to present an aspect of Buddhism that goes beyond moral and ethical concerns but rather to further emphasize the interior nature of Buddhist practice. See also Thomas Baldwin, ed., The Cambridge History of Philosophy, 1870–1945 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 93–94;

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and Fernando Vidal, The Sciences of the Soul: The Early Modern Origins of Psychology, trans. Saskia Brown (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2011). 13.  From the Nirvana Sūtra (T 374 12:451c). 14.  This metaphor appears in texts such as the Sifen lu shanfan buque xingshi chao 四分律刪繁補闕行事鈔, by Daoxuan 道宣 (596–667). See T 1804 40:50b. 15.  Tanzan has added “Buddhism is” to Olcott’s explanation in A Buddhist Catechism of why Prince Siddhārtha left his palace. See Imadate Tosui, trans., Bukkyō mondō, 3; Olcott, A Buddhist Catechism, 6.

chapter 3

Prolegomena to an Argument for the Revival of Buddhism (1887) Inoue Enryō Translated by Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm

Translator’s Introduction Inoue Enryō 井上円了(1858–1919) was born during the period of national upheaval that followed Commodore Perry’s arrival in Japan in 1853.1 The eldest son of a poor country priest in the rural province of Echigo 越後 (today’s Niigata Prefecture), Inoue was ordained as a young man and was expected to succeed his father in the Ōtani branch of the Jōdo Shinshū. Despite his rural childhood, Inoue’s education was heavily influenced by the newly available Western studies. In 1881, Inoue was the first Buddhist priest granted admittance to Tokyo University, which at that time was Japan’s only national university. As an undergraduate Inoue specialized in philosophy, taking courses with both newly arrived American professor Ernest Fenollosa (1853–1908) and Hara Tanzan 原坦山 (see previous chapter). In 1882, while still a student, Inoue cofounded an influential Philosophical Society (Tetsugakukai 哲学会), which brought together both Buddhist leaders and those interested in exploring Western philosophical trends.2 After Inoue graduated in 1885, he continued his involvement with the organization, and in 1886 it began publishing an influential journal, Tetsugaku zasshi 哲学雑誌, to which he was a frequent contributor. Inoue described the period following his graduation as especially difficult. In the span of two years following the completion of his studies, he rejected a position in the Ministry of Education, renounced his ordination as a priest, and lost a job as a researcher at Tokyo University.

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Inoue attributes the cause of this to a great psychological sickness that left him bedridden for over a year. Yet at the same time he was convalescing, Inoue founded a Paranormal Research Society (Fushigi Kenkyūkai 不思議研究会) and announced his attempt to reform Buddhism in the work translated here, Prolegomena to an Argument for the Revival of Buddhism (Bukkyō katsuron joron 仏教活論序論).3 It was this sense of progress that managed to lift Inoue from his depression. In his own assessment, he had discovered what would be his life’s work. From this point until his death in 1919, Inoue engaged in a tireless schedule of lectures, teaching, and writing on a variety of subjects—all of which he described as being ultimately dedicated to the reformation of Buddhism. Inoue published numerous books, founded the Philosophy Hall (Tetsugakukan 哲学館, which became Tōyō University 東洋大学), and transformed the Paranormal Research Society into an organization dedicated to the elimination of superstitions Inoue called the Monster Investigation Society (Yōkai Kenkyūkai 妖怪研究会). Along the way he was awarded a doctorate at then Imperial University in 1896 and became a prominent educator and popular author with a number of famous and influential students both Buddhist and secular. Written for a wide audience including both Buddhist priests and modernizers disenchanted with Buddhism, Prolegomena to an Argument for the Revival of Buddhism uses Inoue’s authority as philosopher to propose sweeping changes, which he construed as a return to the true essence of Buddhism. As Inoue describes it, Prolegomena was inspired by an attempt to reform Buddhism in reaction to a range of critiques that can be roughly grouped into three types. First, a new form of historical criticism had challenged the existence of the historical Buddha and the authenticity of the Mahāyāna sutras. Second, Christianity was seen as the only legitimate religion with direct access to the “truth.” Third, Buddhism was criticized as being backward, superstitious, and against modernity. On a most basic level, Inoue’s response to all of these criticisms is to assert that Buddhism is a “philosophical religion.” Equating Buddhism with these two Meiji-era neologisms—tetsugaku 哲学 and shūkyō 宗教— had a number of implications. In part, Inoue addressed the historicist critique by identifying Buddhism as a “philosophy” based on the validity of its ideas, rather than the authority of its putative founder. Inoue, however, argues that Buddhism is not simply a philosophy, but it is also a religion. Indeed, Inoue was one of the first Japanese public intellectuals to insist that Buddhism was a legitimate member of the category



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“religion.”4 This claim is especially important because in the opinion of many early Meiji intellectuals it was not clear that Buddhism fit properly into the category.5 Foreign missionaries had argued that only various Christian denominations really qualified as “religions” and that Buddhism was nothing more than a harmful and backward superstition. By asserting that Buddhism is indeed a “religion,” Inoue was in effect arguing that it could serve the civilizational and moral function accorded to Christianity by European thinkers. Moreover, in the passages translated here, Inoue further contended that Buddhism was a superior religion to Christianity because unlike Christianity it was rooted in reason. In particular, Inoue responds to criticisms about Buddhism’s place in the modern world by repeatedly contending that Buddhism is fundamentally in accord with science. Thus, anything that seems to be in conflict with science is not really Buddhism. This argument, although accepted today in many Buddhist circles, was fairly novel. Many canonical Buddhist texts made claims that seemed to be in direct contrast to the Western scientific worldview of that epoch. But by arguing that everything in opposition to this new worldview was not really Buddhism, Inoue was at the forefront of a piecemeal dismantling of Buddhist cosmology. As new scientific advancements were made, more aspects of Buddhism turned out not to be “really Buddhist” after all. Nevertheless, Inoue’s arguments were also important because they suggested that Buddhist philosophy had resources to address impasses in European philosophical thought. For that reason, we can see the long shadow of this project in the works of later Japanese philosophers from D. T. Suzuki to the Kyoto School.6

Translation For a long time, I have lamented that Buddhism does not prosper in the world. For more than ten years, I have single-handedly investigated its actual conditions ( jikkyū-suru 実究する) thus taking on the mission of Buddhism’s revival. Only recently have I discovered for the first time that the teachings of Buddhism conform to the fundamental truths of various sciences and philosophies articulated in the West. This insight has led me to draft a larger systematic work, which I have titled Argument for the Revival of Buddhism. The first part here—Prolegomena to an Argument for the Revival of Buddhism—begins the project of delineating the nature of truth and sketching the Buddhist system. This is merely a

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preliminary step toward establishing the main argument, which will be divided into three sections: “an argument for revival by refuting heresy” (haja katsuron 破邪活論), “an argument for revival by elucidating correct views” (kenshō katsuron 顕正活論), and “an argument for revival by defending the dharma” (gohō katsuron 護法活論).7 I anticipate completing a draft of this work in three months. After I do so, I will share it with the world and then look forward to having it judged according to the thoughts and sensibilities of the public at large. My argument about Buddhism is rooted in fair and impartial (kōhei mushi 公平無私) philosophical analysis. Hence, it is very different from the standard interpretation of Buddhism provided by ordinary monks. It will also be quite divergent from the Christian viewpoint. Nevertheless, the reason for my attempt to aid Buddhism and overcome Christianity is not that I love the person Śākyamuni or that I hate the person Jesus. It is merely that the only thing I really love is the truth and the only thing I really hate is untruth. At present, there are elements in Christianity that one cannot accept as truths, while in Buddhism there are elements that one cannot discard as untruths. This is why I have been drawn to overcome one and aid the other. By “Buddhism” I mean the doctrine that has been handed down in our country to the present age. The person who began this doctrine is [conventionally] referred to as “Śākyamuni.” Accordingly, while Christian scholars have argued at length that the original Buddhist scriptures were not written in India, that the Mahāyāna school was not the original doctrine expounded by the Buddha, and that Śākyamuni was not a real historical figure and so on—this does not concern me in the least. Even though the biography of the founder of Buddhism is unclear and the origin of the Buddhist teachings is unknown, I am not the stupid and ignorant type who believes in the truth of a [philosophical] teaching based on the biography [of its proponent] or its history. I only believe in it if it is in accord with contemporary philosophically [and scientifically] demonstrable truths, and I only reject it if it is not in accord with philosophy and science (tetsuri 哲理). [. . .] Thus far I have argued that it is the aim of scholars to defend the nation and to love truth. Moreover, I have argued that Buddhism contains truths and I have shown that today a viable strategy for encouraging [specifically Japanese] patriotism would be by protecting Buddhism and broadening its scope. Next we must establish whether Buddhism is



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complete and unalloyed truth and to what extent it conforms to the fundamental truths of various sciences and philosophies. Buddhism is said to contain innumerable teachings, but there are many different ways of classifying them.8 Buddhist teachings can be divided into Mahāyāna and Hīnayāna, or they can be sorted in terms of sudden versus gradual, or they can be characterized in terms of one versus three vehicles, or exoteric versus esoteric, or they can be divided by means of a distinction between the Pure Land and the Sagely Path (shōdō 聖道). To elaborate on this latter division between the Pure Land and the Sagely Path, we might say that the Sagely Path teaches a difficult path rooted in Self-power while the Pure Land teaches an easy path rooted in Other-power. Thus, the Sagely Path requires its practitioners to themselves investigate it rationally and to engage in ascetic practices if they want to attain Buddhahood. By contrast, the Pure Land path does not require its followers to attain Buddhahood by means of their own power. Rather, it urges them to achieve Buddhahood through Other-power. Therefore, one is called the dharma of Self-power and the other the dharma of Otherpower. Self-power is difficult, while Other-power is easy. Hence, [the Buddhist teachings] can be divided into easy and difficult modes. [. . .] In recent times some Christian thinkers put forth great effort and worked out how to justify Christianity’s empty doctrines according to reason. But should one take even a superficial look at their writings one can see that their arguments are rather strained and distort the facts, and thus cannot be fully compatible with scientific principles. Moreover, Christian thinkers have taken this line of interpretation about as far as it can go, and it will be very difficult to advance it. If they were to forcibly push it further, it would require transcending the limits of Christianity so far that they would arrive at a new religion, perhaps even going so far as to become a kind of Buddhism. Indeed, I have often argued that if Christianity were reformulated on the basis of scientific principles that would effectively convert it into [a form of] Buddhism. Nonetheless I believe that any future interpretation of Christianity is going to find it impossible to jettison a commitment to Creationism and the Ascension of Jesus. [. . .] The only thing in which contemporary Western philosophy excels is grounding the theoretical analysis of scientific experimentation. But

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the principles Western philosophy has discovered are not at all different from those obtained three thousand years ago [by the Buddha]. Does this not warrant a gasp of admiration? Now, if we want to demonstrate the concordance between the foundational principles of Buddhism and the foundational principles of Western philosophy, we must briefly look to the system of the Way of the Sages because it is in this portion of Buddhism that one can find Buddhism’s philosophy. [. . .] [Instead of a Cartesian dualism that thinks of matter and mind as totally independent substances, Buddhism argues that] matter and mind are a dual-substance [called Thusness] resembling two sides of the same sheet of paper. When looked at from the front this is called matter, when looked at from the reverse side it is called mind. That is to say just as mind is not reducible to matter and matter is not reducible to mind,9 the front side of a piece of paper is not identical or reducible to the reverse side. Mind exists in contrast to matter, while matter exists in contrast to mind. Similarly, the reverse of a sheet of paper exists [only] in contrast to the front side of the paper. Front and back are therefore relative. Nevertheless, the two sides of the paper are obviously not composed of completely different substances. The sheet of paper itself is the [fundamental] substance. There would be no front and reverse without the substance of the paper itself. Hence insofar as we are discussing the substance of the paper, this [foundational] substance is the absolute (zettai 絶対). Yet, the substance of the paper itself cannot exist without a front and reverse. Hence the absolute does not have an existence independent from the relative. The relative (front and reverse) are thus the absolute substance of the paper. As far as a single sheet of paper is concerned, there exists a distinction between two sides and yet the two sides share the common substance of the paper. In this way there is a distinction in the substance of Thusness (真如; J. shinnyo; Skt. tathatā) between body and mind, and yet we should know that Thusness is the substance of both body and mind. Moreover, just as one can certainly distinguish between the two sides and the substance of the paper, we should know that Thusness and body/mind are not identical. To put it simply, the relationship between body/mind and Thusness is identity by [means of] difference and difference by [means of] identity. The one is two and the two are one. This is what is referred to in Buddhism as the teaching of the complete interpenetration of all things (en’yū sōsoku 円融相即).



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[. . .] Being a foundational principle of science (rigaku 理学), the [Buddhist notion of a karmic] law of cause and effect (inga 因果) agrees with what is referred to today as the law of the conservation of mass and energy. Roughly put, this law states that although matter may be transformed into an endless variety of forms, its basic elemental components are neither increasing nor decreasing, nor are they created nor destroyed. Likewise, energy may be produced according to various different circumstances and it may be used for a variety of different purposes, but energy is a fixed quantity because it is neither created nor destroyed. On further reflection we might conjecture from this principle that every cause must necessarily have an effect, just as every effect must necessarily have had a cause. The implication of this principle is that the birth of a being is therefore necessarily the result of cause and effect, and the being’s particular circumstances necessarily arise from a particular set of conditions. If on the contrary there were such things as uncaused effects or beings without prior circumstances, then matter could appear spontaneously with nonmaterial origins and energy could appear spontaneously without prior energy investments. But this would be completely against the law of the conservation of mass and energy. Accordingly, when the Buddhist teachings assert that achieving Buddhahood is based on the universality of cause and effect, one could say that it conforms with contemporary scientific theory. Now if we further explore the scientific laws of causality in order to search for their origins, we must admit that these scientific laws are rooted in the regularities of the substance of Thusness. This is the case because all of the things in the world can only be experienced inside of our human consciousness, and are thus nothing less than Thusness. Hence, in order for something in the universe to be able to be experienced, it must necessarily exist within the laws of cause and effect. Accordingly, since the very nature of the substance of Thusness is the law of causality, the principle of Thusness must exist within the laws of cause and effect. However, sometimes it appears as if we have experiences that suggest that a principle exists outside of causality. But such [uncaused] principles do not really exist, and they appear only because of the limits of our human consciousness. [. . .] The fundamental principles of Buddhism are in accord with the fundamental principles of science. This is because [Buddhism’s] principles

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in no way resemble the fallacies promoted by Christianity such as creationism10 or the theory that all things were created from nothing. [. . .] Looked at from this vantage point, the Buddha’s teachings contain a theory of mind, an explanation for Thusness, and the principle of cause and effect. These are issues that as yet Christianity is unable to even recognize. Indeed, for countless generations people will continue to be struck with admiration at Śākyamuni’s farsighted and lively insights. Truly, it is only after many years that we are able to recognize ageless truths in the Buddha’s golden words, and to begin to understand their true subtlety will take countless more generations. Shall we not now praise them?

Notes This translation is based on a passage from Inoue Enryō 井上円了, Inoue Enryō senshū 井上円了選集, ed. Takagi Hiroo 高木宏夫, vol. 3 (Tokyo: Tōyō Daigaku, 1987), 327–393. 1.  For an overview of Inoue Enryō’s thought, see Okura Takeharu 小倉 竹治, Inoue Enryō no shisō 井上円了の思想 (Tokyo: Azekura Shobō, 1986). For a survey of recent research on Inoue, see Rainer Schulzer, “Inoue Enryō Research at Tōyō University,” International Inoue Enryō Research 2 (2014): 1–18. 2.  Originally it was called the Philosophical Research Society (Tetsu­ gaku kenkyūkai 哲学研究会). 3.  While doing this translation I have greatly benefited from consulting the translation in Kathleen M. Staggs, “In Defense of Japanese Buddhism: Essays from the Meiji Period by Inoue Enryō and Murakami Senshō,” PhD diss., Princeton University, 1979. 4.  See Jason Ānanda Josephson, “When Buddhism Became a ‘Religion’: Religion and Superstition in the Writings of Inoue Enryō,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 33, no. 1 (2006): 143–168; Clinton Godart, “ ‘Philosophy’ or ‘Religion’? The Confrontation with Foreign Categories in Late Nineteenth Century Japan,” Journal of the History of Ideas 69, no. 1 (2008): 71–91. For the larger context, see Jason Ānanda Josephson, The Invention of Religion in Japan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012), and Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015). 5.  A prominent example would be Hara Tanzan. See the previous chapter.



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6.  See Robert Wargo, “Inoue Enryō: An Important Predecessor of Nishida Kitarō,” in Studies on Japanese Culture—Nihon bunka kenkyū ronshū 日本文化研究論集, ed. Ōta Saburō and Rikutarō Fukuda (Tokyo: The Japan P.E.N. Club, 1973), 170–177. 7.  In the first two section titles, Inoue is gesturing toward a stock SinoJapanese Buddhist phrase: 破邪顕正 (Ch. poxie xianzheng; J. haja kenshō), literally “destroying evil, manifesting righteousness,” which refers to simultaneously refuting heretical/false views and elucidating right views. 8.  Inoue is deploying a stock phrase, literally “more than 84,000 dharma-gates,” to refer to the many different types of teachings the Buddha is said to have given for remedying the many different kinds of possible delusions. 9.  Literally “not identical,” but in the background to Inoue’s argument is a rejection of both materialist and idealist forms of reductionism. 10.  Literally “that humans could be made without other humans” (hito naki ni hito o tsukuri 人なきに人を作り).

chapter 4

Discourse on Buddhist Unity (1901) Murakami Senshō Translated by Ryan Ward

Translator’s Introduction One of the reoccurring questions faced in Buddhist Studies is how to account for the sheer number of disparate doctrinal positions found throughout the numerous Buddhist canons. This problem, however, is not a recent one. Mahāyāna Buddhist thinkers themselves have long grappled with this very dilemma. Could all of these teachings really have emanated from the Buddha’s “golden mouth”(konku 金口)? In East Asian Buddhist history, perhaps the most commonly known attempt to rectify these discrepancies and formulate a consistent and coherent framework is found in the formation of the medieval Chinese Tiantai doctrinal classification systems ( panjiao 判教). More than a millennium later, with the rise of European Buddhology, answering this question took on an even greater sense of urgency for East Asian Buddhist intellectuals. This was particularly true in the case of Japan, where the Western “science” of Buddhology—first studied abroad by the likes of Japanese Buddhists such as Nanjō Bun’yū 南条文雄 (1849– 1927) and Kasahara Kenju 笠原研寿 (1862–1883), both of whom studied under the tutelage of Max Müller (1823–1900) at Oxford—cast doubt on the very legitimacy of the Mahāyāna. How could it still be possible to address Buddhism in a “modern” and “academic” fashion and yet continue to serve as representatives of orthodox Japanese Buddhism? In Japan, the earliest and most ambitious attempt at excavating what was hoped to be an underlying architectonics of a general Buddhist doctrine is often attributed to the Tokyo Imperial University 172



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professor Murakami Senshō 村上専精 (1851–1929). Murakami, like Nanjō and Kasahara, was affiliated with Higashi Honganji.1 His intended solution to solving this problem was through the (planned) writing of a five-volume magnum opus synthesizing the entirety of Buddhist thought and showing the connection between Japanese Buddhism and its Indic origins. In English, this work is known as the Discourse on Buddhist Unity (Bukkyō tōitsuron 仏教統一論).2 Although anachronistic by contemporary scholarly standards, the sheer breadth of subject and ambition evinced in Murakami’s four published volumes makes this work a watershed in the history of Buddhist Studies in Japan.3 The first volume in this series, the Daikōron 大綱論, of which a small portion is translated below, is generally considered the heart of Murakami’s endeavor. Murakami was born in Tanba (present-day Hyōgo Prefecture) at Kyōkakuji 教覚寺, his family temple.4 At the age of twenty-three he briefly studied in Kyoto at the Takakura Gakuryō 高倉学寮 (Higashi Honganji’s traditional center of learning). His time there, however, was short. This brief stint at the traditional and orthodox Ōtani educational arm may have been indicative of his growing disenchantment with prototypical Shin education. Unlike other Tokyo Imperial University scholars of Buddhism, the aforementioned Nanjō and, to cite another example, Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次郎 (1866–1945), Murakami received no formal training in European Buddhology. Rather, much of his early education was in traditional Buddhist logic (inmyōron 因明論; Skt. hetu-vidyā). He was appointed as lecturer (in what is today known as the Indian Philosophy and Buddhist Studies Department) at Tokyo (Imperial) University in 1890 and would become the department’s first full professor in 1917. Along with being one of the early pioneers of Buddhist Studies in Japan, he was also a fervent supporter of the young Kiyozawa Manshi’s 清沢満之 (1863–1903) failed Shirakawa Reform Movement.5 Near the end of his life (1926–1928) he would serve as the fourth president of Higashi Honganji’s Ōtani University. The following is a brief translation of part of the conclusion to his Discourse on Buddhist Unity. In this passage, Murakami offers a kind of apologetics in which he explains that despite knowing very well that the teachings of the Mahāyāna did not all radiate from the mouth of the historical Buddha himself and that the bodhisattvas were not real beings flittering around our cosmos, he still believed in Buddhism. In fact, it made him believe even more.6

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Translation Chapter Four My Views on the Establishment of Faith Above, I have argued that Śākyamuni does not transcend the human realm.7 Outside of the real [i.e., human] Śākyamuni, I explained that there were no other tangible buddhas. If we argue, more or less, that although the flow of Mahāyāna Buddhism springs from the teachings of Śākyamuni, it [in fact] greatly developed after him, then there are those who might anxiously ask, “Does this not influence your faith?”8 Nevertheless, it is precisely through this [understanding] that I know we establish resolute belief. Still, perhaps we should note that there are, basically, two main kinds of faith. The first is that faith which cannot appeal to the principles of common sense.9 In contrast, the other kind of faith is that which, by appealing to common sense, is thus in accordance with it. Among these two senses of faith, the first must recede along with the cultural progression of society. The kind of faith that will move along with the advancement of society is only the second form. Although I am impudent, I cannot develop beliefs that are outside of the truth, discarding the judgments of common sense.10 How much more is this true of the intellectuals of today! There are those who teach that Śākyamuni—[despite] having a father and mother, wife and child—was not human. There are those who teach that the real and tangible buddhas exist outside of all things in the universe (banbutsu 万物).11 And, there are those that hold that the various schools of the Mahāyāna all transmit the teachings of Śākyamuni: people such as these abandon common sense and will only attain faith by blindly accepting that which is outside the scope of reason. When viewed from a historical-critical perspective, one most hold that Śākyamuni must have been a human being and that the buddhas, outside of all tangible things in the universe, are nothing more than abstract expressions of idealizations. We have to say that the various forms of Mahāyāna Buddhism, seeking its origins in Śākyamuni, are [themselves part of] the history of human civilization. Thus—through this historical-critical perspective—I am able to appeal to and be in accord with common sense. Accordingly, it does not destroy my faith. On the contrary, it makes my faith enormously sound and resolute.



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When it is not this way, because they confuse true and untrue, many wander between half belief and half doubt (hanshin hangi 半信半疑) or fall into the pit of pathological superstition.12 Indeed, among some Christians one also finds this phenomenon, but we need not go out of our way to speak of anything else other than our Buddhist world here. When we speak of the world of our Buddhism of bygone days, look at works such as Vasubandhu’s [4–5 CE] Yugashijiron 瑜伽師地論 (Skt. Yogācārabhūmi-śāstra) and Harivarman’s [4 CE?] Jōjitsuron 成実論 (Skt. Satyasiddhi-śāstra). The reason that these works evince a great degree of critical inquiry is because these men knew that the general Buddhist society of the day did not harbor such a concept that would appeal to common sense and thus Buddhists mutually only knew their own school’s [teachings] but not that of others.13 This was because many people were pathologically obstinate and superstitious. When one applies this to the state of Japanese Buddhism in recent times, there is a sense that, instead of having the passion to believe in the teachings of one’s own school, each denomination is involved in mutual and deep exclusivism. I have heard that there were some [Buddhists] who although somewhat colored by the teaching of “Not Depending on Words and Letters ( furyū monji 不立文字)” [i.e., the Zen schools], implored Amida of the Western Pure Land (saihō jōdo 西方浄土) for posthumous birth [in that land] (ōjō 往生).14 When I heard this I felt as if they had Christian-like sentiments. Further, I have heard that there were those who lived within the “Gate of the Teachings of the Otherpower” (Tarikikyō no mon 他力教の門) [i.e., Pure Land clergy] but when asked “what is a buddha?” replied: “Three pounds of flax!” (masangin 麻 三斥), or “a dried shit stick!” (kanshiketsu 乾屎橛).15 When I was asked about my perceptions of this, I felt as if this was “destructive Buddhism” (hakaiteki bukkyō 破壊的仏教).16 Or, for example, the Shingon school’s empowerment rituals (kajidan 加持檀) and the practice of goma 護摩 (Skt. homa) make me feel like I am seeing the Six Heretical Indian teachers.17 As for the Nichiren school proclaiming: “Nenbutsu [leads one to] Avīci Hell, Zen [followers] are devils, Shingon will destroy the nation, and Ritsu is a traitor to the country,” the other schools of [Japanese] Buddhism must come to believe that Nichiren had not attained the way (mutokudō 無得道).18 In a state such as this, although there might be those who believe that each school has its own kind of faith, I believe that this is a tremendous fallacy. I thus assert: This [all] is a biased and myopic view. If we wish to class this as faith, one cannot help

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but say that this is a form of pathological superstition. A sound and harmonious faith is absolutely not like this! If one wishes to establish sound beliefs for oneself, one must begin by emulating Vasubandhu and Harivarman—and the patriarchs of other schools—who comparatively and critically classified the teachings (kyōsō hanjaku 教相判釈), and then devote oneself to a methodology that will establish one’s own beliefs.19 As there already are examples of patriarchs of many denominations who did this, I have nothing to be ashamed of in my own emulations. What should I fear? Seeing Buddhism through the combination of historical and comparative thought— and through adding critical ideas to this [mix]—I receive the imprimatur of common sense in my views of Śākyamuni himself; in my views of the buddhas themselves; and in my interpretations of doctrine itself. I believe, moreover, that, because the schisms between the many schools developed based on outward principles, when we take the approach of accessing them inwardly, we [understand] that they can all form a perfect unity (gōdō itchi 合同一致).20 This is not pathological bias and obstinacy; this leads to the establishment of sound and harmonious faith. Contrary to expectations, should one not rejoice? Contrary to expectations, should one not rejoice?21

Notes This translation is based on Murakami Senshō 村上専精, Bukkyō tōitsuron: Dai-ippen, Daikōron 仏教統一論：第一編 大綱論 (Tokyo: Kinkōdō Shoseki, 1901), 463–468. 1.  For the most comprehensive study of Murakami in any language, see The Eastern Buddhist 37, no. 1–2 (2005). Also see Orion Klautau, Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku 近代日本思想としての仏教史学 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2012), 83–118. For a remarkable study on how Murakami was influenced by the Unitarian Mission to Japan, see Michel Mohr, Buddhism, Unitarianism, and the Meiji Competition for Universality (Cambridge, MA, and London: Harvard University Asia Center, 2014), 75–85. 2.  I have consulted the original version of Murakami’s text for this translation. Subsequent reprints exist. An electronic version is available online at the Japanese National Diet Library, accessed May 20, 2020, http://dl.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/817264. 3.  Volume four, however, was not published as such, but as Shinshū Zenshi 真宗全史 or Comprehensive History of the Shin School (Tokyo: Heigo



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Shuppan, 1916). I would like to thank Orion Klautau for reminding me of this fact. 4.  The primary source I have used here for Murakami’s life is his autobiography. See Murakami Senshō 村上専精, Rokujūichinen: Ichimei sekirara 六十一年：一名・赤裸裸 (Tokyo: Heigo Shuppan, 1914). 5.  On the Shirakawa-tō 白河党 and conservative responses to it, see Jeff Schroeder’s contribution to this volume (part I, chapter 4). 6.  It is worth noting that we find a similar intellectual move in nineteenth-century Europe. The aforementioned Max Müller, who was to influence a whole generation of Japanese buddhologists, was possibly the first to argue that, in order to protect Christianity from the assault of modernity, one had to put it on firm scientific grounding, historicize it, and place it within the framework of comparative religion. In his own words: “The Science of Religion may be the last of the sciences which man is destined to elaborate; but when it is elaborated, it will change the aspect of the world, and give a new life to Christianity itself” (Friedrich Max Müller, Chips from a German Workshop, vol. 1: Essays on the Science of Religion [London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1868], xix–xx). See also Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015), 105. 7.  The chapter preceding “My Views on the Establishment of Faith” is entitled “My Views on the Theory that the Buddha Preached the Mahāyāna” (daijō bussetsuron ni kansuru hiken 大乗仏説論に関する鄙見). In it, Murakami readily admits that the Buddha was merely a human being and that, in contradistinction to those “teachings that were transmitted as taught by the Buddha” (kyōnai sōden 教内相伝), the Mahāyāna teachings were “transmitted outside of the Buddha’s original teachings” (kyōgai sōden 教外相伝). He attributes the former transmission to the Buddha’s cousin Ānanda and the latter to Mahākāśyapa. 8.  In this passage, Murakami seems to waver between the use of the terms shinkō 信仰, which I have translated as “faith,” and shinnen 信念, which I have translated as “belief/s.” With the introduction of the Christian concept of “faith” in the Meiji period, these two terms were often used in vague, imprecise, and interchangeable ways. We should note that this vagueness has often been transferred onto Western translations of texts from this period. For example, Kiyozawa Manshi’s deathbed work is entitled Waga shinnen 我信念 in Japanese but is often translated into English as My Faith. 9.  Although the term jōshiki 常識 in modern Japanese is often analogous to the English “common sense,” the Meiji use of this term seems to

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connote much more: it was often used as a handy linguistic catchall for those seeking to modernize Japan and the “backward” customs, beliefs, practices, ideas, etc., of the Japanese. Of course, the very fact that Murakami—and this word was a standard part of the argot for Meiji intellectuals—has to constantly reiterate the term “common sense” is indicative that more often than not this “common sense” and what it entailed was not so “common” at all. As far as I know, a detailed study of the history of the usage of this term has yet to be undertaken. It would make a worthy endeavor. 10.  Murakami often uses this term “ideal” (risō 理想) in both the sense of “something of the highest or ultimate order” and in the sense of “ideal(ization).” But he also uses it in the pejorative sense to signify something that is “unreal” or “imaginary.” Thus, the bodhisattvas of the Mahāyāna pantheon were both ultimate ideals and yet lacked any true or possible ontological reality. 11.  The term banbutsu, which I have tentatively translated as “all things in the universe,” is vague in how it is used in this passage. It can refer to “things and objects in the universe,” “everything,” “all things,” “creation,” and so forth. 12.  Throughout this piece, Murakami laments the various states and forms of both popular and orthodox Buddhist belief. The Japanese term used here is byōteki 病的. Although I have chosen to translate this as “pathological,” one could alternatively read this as a gloss for “sick(ly)” or “unhealthy” in both the “medical” and “perverse/abnormal” sense. 13.  Murakami uses the term kenkyū 研究 here. In modern Japanese this is equivalent to the English for “research.” I have taken the liberty to translate this term as “inquiry,” as I believe that the gist of the text is getting at a little more than academic “research.” 14.  Although Murakami does not clearly spell out exactly what group he is referring to here, members of the Ōbaku School (Ōbaku-shū 黄檗宗) may be the target. What is of import here is that Murakami, despite his talk of “unity,” seems to have frowned upon syncretic sectarian praxis. If so, and as one may expect, he seems to have had little knowledge of post-medieval Chinese Buddhism or of early modern Japanese Buddhism. As we well know today, Chinese Buddhist practice (as, say, found in the Ōbaku lineage) has long differed from Japanese Buddhist schools (like Shin Buddhism) in its interpretations and appropriations of the nenbutsu 念仏 and so forth. 15.  These references are to two of the most commonly known answers to Zen koan.



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16.  I have translated this term literally. Alternatively, “destructive” may be understood in a schismatic sense. I have added the quotation marks, which are not in the original text. 17.  The Japanese reads Indo no gedō 印度の外道, which refers to the six heretical gurus that Prince Siddhārtha trained under before his enlightenment and whom he subsequently defeated post-enlightenment. 18.  This condemnation of Japanese Buddhism is attributed to the monk Nichiren 日蓮 (1222–1282). Avīci (J. muken 無間) is the lowest realm of hell in Buddhist cosmology. 19.  Here Murakami uses the Chinese term panjiao (J. hankyō), which I referred to in my introduction. For my comments on his reasons for the appropriation of this term see the footnote below. 20.  Murakami seems to use both the terms gōdō 合同 and tōitsu 統一 interchangeably here as glosses for “unity” or “unification.” It should be of note that the ensuing chapter (five) is entitled “My Views Concerning the Unity of the Various [Japanese Buddhist] Schools” (kakushū gōdō ni kansuru waga hiken 各宗合同に関する我が鄙見). In this section, Murakami argues that it was the Japanese Tendai patriarch Saichō 最澄 (767–822) who was the unifying force par excellence for later Japanese Buddhist doctrinal developments. Murakami argues that Saichō was the first monk known for using systems of doctrinal classification (kyōsō hanjaku) and that many of those who studied on Kyoto’s Mt. Hiei, where he resided, would later go on to become the founders of the so-called New Buddhism of the Kamakura period (Kamakura shinbukkyō 鎌倉新仏教). 21.  During his brief appointment at Ōtani University, Murakami would lament his earlier attempts at discovering an inherent doctrinal unity to Buddhism and also his role in attempting to reform Higashi Honganji. Ironically, despite being attacked for his unorthodox beliefs earlier in life, by the end he made a turn to a more traditional form of Shin orthodoxy. He would argue that such attempts were the follies of youth and over-ambition. Instead, all that was needed was simple and pure faith in Amida 阿弥 陀 and the nenbutsu. On this, see my “Against Buddhist Unity: Murakami Senshō and his Sectarian Critics,” The Eastern Buddhist 37, no. 1–2 (2005): 160–194.

chapter 1

“On Civilization” (1876) Ōuchi Seiran Translated by Orion Klautau

Translator’s Introduction From the time of its establishment in 1868, the Meiji government had as its central aspiration the revision of the several “unequal treaties” signed with Western powers during the previous decade and a half. This required turning Japan into a nation with equal status to its European and North American counterparts, which, in contemporary terms, meant that Japan had to become at least as “civilized” as them. In order to achieve this goal, Meiji leaders adopted a series of policies that sought to introduce to Japan new political, economic, and social structures. In keeping with the nineteenth-century expression, historical scholarship has referred to the entirety of this modernization project as bunmei kaika 文明開化, commonly rendered into English as “civilization and enlightenment.”1 The primary exponent of the bunmei kaika movement is, by any account, Fukuzawa Yukichi 福沢諭吉 (1835–1901), credited with the very coining of the term. Influenced by the work of European historians such as Henry Thomas Buckle (1821–1862) and François Guizot (1787– 1874), he popularized the idea that humankind advanced through stages, going from “primitive” to “civilized,” and that Japan, falling into an intermediary stage between these two extremes, needed to make special efforts to rapidly advance.2 This theory of social progress is laid out in Bunmeiron no gairyaku 文明論之概略 (An outline of a theory of civilization), one of his most important works, published in April 1875 and an instant best seller. Besides Fukuzawa, the figures most frequently associated with the bunmei kaika movement would include Mori Arinori 183

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森有礼 (1847–1889) and Nishi Amane 西周 (1829–1897), not to mention other of their fellow members at the Meiji Six Society (Meirokusha 明六社), an intellectual association presided over by Fukuzawa himself, whose aim was to “promote knowledge” (chishiki o hiraku 智識ヲ開ク) among the Japanese.3 However, despite oftentimes being ignored by scholarship at large,4 Buddhists also played an important role in the movement, and the text translated below, by Ōuchi Seiran 大内青巒 (1845–1918), represents precisely that kind of engagement. Seiran was born to a samurai family in Sendai, then the largest domain in northern Japan.5 Although biographical information on him is at times uncertain, a number of sources tell us that, upon the death of his father, when he was still a boy, he was sent to live with his brother, then head priest of Hōjuji 鳳寿寺, a Sōtō Zen temple in the nearby coastal town of Shichigahama 七ヶ浜. There he took his first steps into the study of Buddhism, learning also the Confucian classics, an education he would continue under famous local teachers such as Funayama Ban’nen 舟山万年 (1791–1857). As a teenager he moved to Mito, where he became familiar with the movement to “revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians” (sonnō jōi 尊皇攘夷) and, according to some posthumous biographies, also took his vows as a Zen priest under Shōan 照庵. From this time, Seiran himself tells us that he became something of an “itinerant priest” (unsuisō 雲水僧),6 studying in Edo, but also visiting Kyoto and Osaka. While the exact dates are imprecise, we are also told he learned Zen from important masters such as Morotake Ekidō 諸嶽奕 堂 (1805–1879), Kuga Kankei 久我環渓 (1817–1884), and Hara Tanzan 原坦山 (1819–1892). Indeed, although up to this point much is unclear, we do know that from around the time of the Restoration Seiran lived in Tokyo as a koji 居士, or Buddhist layperson. During this period he became a central figure in the development of modern Japanese media: he was, for instance, one of the people responsible for the publication, in 1871, of the Shinbun zasshi 新聞雑誌, a newspaper in tune with the bunmei kaika movement and established through direct financial support from Meiji statesman Kido Takayoshi 木戸孝允 (1833–1877). It was also around this period that Seiran, a fierce anti-Christian, would start producing his first systematic critiques of that religion. One of those allegedly caught the attention of Ōzu Tetsunen 大洲鉄然 (1834–1902), who invited him to tutor Ōtani Kōson 大谷光尊 (1850–1903), then head priest of the Nishi Honganji. This might have improved his ties with Jōdo Shinshū



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clerics, as it was alongside Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷 (1838–1911) that he founded, in 1874, the journal Hōshi sōdan 報四叢談, whose interests and goals were very similar to those of the Meiroku zasshi. In September of that year he also helped establish, with Ono Azusa 小野梓 (1852– 1886), Akamatsu Renjō 赤松蓮城, and others, the Kyōzon Dōshū 共存 同衆, an intellectual association responsible for the publication, from the following year, of a popular journal in the bunmei kaika movement.7 In 1875 he began to run the Meikyō shinshi 明教新誌, the first trans-sectarian Buddhist journal of modern Japan and, as such, a watershed periodical in terms of religious media.8 Despite his involvement with these endeavors, Seiran is perhaps best known to historians of Japanese religion as editor of the Shushōgi 修証 義, a compilation of sections of Dōgen’s Shōbōgenzō 正法眼藏 translated into a more contemporary form of Japanese and aimed at a lay audience.9 Such an enterprise is not unrelated to his activities as public speaker, and he was indeed one of the central figures in the public lecture (enzetsu 演説) scene of Meiji Japan.10 The text translated here is an early example of this genre, first presented in oral form in August 1876. Considering its date and contents, it was probably presented for the first time in the context of organizations not strictly associated with Buddhism, such as the abovementioned Kyōzon Dōshū, or perhaps the Shōwakai 尚和会, yet another association he had founded alongside Ono Azusa only a few months before.11 According to Seiran, while certain civilizations such as the “West” are more inclined toward technology, others, like the “East,” are more focused on spiritual pursuits. These inclinations would be understood a priori as developing out of the natu­ ral environment in which each of these civilizations arose. On the road to perfection, a “civilization” needed to pay attention to both these aspects in order to “progress.” In terms of content, the speech is consonant with contemporary arguments on the same topic. Although already known, the idea of a “civilization” having both an intellectual and a material aspect seems to have become more popular from the mid-1870s onward. The first volume of the Japanese translation of Guizot’s The History of Civilization in Europe (orig. 1828), where he parallels “outward circumstances” with “intellectual and moral cravings,” appeared in September 1874.12 In the same month a lecture by Shimaji was published in Hōshi sōdan, where the Honganji priest speaks of both “material” and “spiritual” sides of progress, citing Guizot.13 This was only a year prior to Fukuzawa’s

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Bunmeiron no gairyaku, published in August 1875, which “distinguish[es] in civilization between its visible exterior and its inner spirit.”14 Seiran, however, takes the idea a step further and, in a way, turns it upside down: From a perspective that privileges the intellectual over the material, could we not say that the East is indeed more advanced? In its urge to absorb technology from the West, was the East not neglecting its far more developed spiritual heritage? As a critique of extensive “Westernization,” the text resonates with the idea of “Japanese spirit, Western technique” (wakon yōsai 和魂洋才),15 and indeed precedes, in many senses, the late-Meiji tropes on “Eastern Civilization” that appeared as reaction to “yellow peril” discourses.16

Translation There are two types of civilization in the world: One is that of internal virtue (naitoku 内徳), and the other is that of external forms (gaikei 外 形). Likewise, there are two ways by which people can advance to civilization: One is to prioritize external forms, and the other is to do so with internal virtue. To prioritize internal virtue, one should mainly pay attention to moral principles and the natural law (dōgi seihō 道義性法), while to do so regarding external forms one should focus entirely on technical skills (kōgei gijutsu 巧芸技術). In [places] such as India, China, and Japan, due to people’s simplicity, external forms were at an unsophisticated level, and therefore, technical skills were never prioritized. It is, however, precisely because there has been such emphasis primarily in moral principles and the natural law that, in terms of internal virtue, people with noble sincerity and pure intentions such as Confucius, Laozi, and Śākyamuni were so numerous in the old days. In European and North American countries, the opposite happened: people have exerted their mental faculties solely toward technical skills. For this reason, in terms of external forms all things flourished thoroughly to a level of utmost convenience. Wearing only the finest clothes and eating but the best foods, people lived in golden palaces, and even wrung tears from the gods by being able to command wind, thunder, and fire. Regarding internal virtue, however, they were still childish. Although recently there have been eager attempts on their part to explain the functions of the spirit, and teach the study of selfcultivation and upright will, this is largely based on medical studies of anatomy (ika naikei no kenkyū 医家内景の研究), and the workings of



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perception are only marginally considered. Or else, they attempt to somewhat control the dissoluteness of human nature by preaching the theory of a creator God (tenjin zōka no setsu 天神造化の説), but that is, in the end, no more than the view of one sweeping in the dark. This being so, Westerners are complete in terms of external form and lack internal virtue, while Easterners, mastering only the true meaning of internal virtue, still have not achieved the perfection of external form. Both have shortcomings, and none of them can yet be called a true civilization (shinsei no bunmei 真正の文明). It is precisely by compensating for each other’s shortcomings that we should hope to advance into the interior depths of a civilization perfect both inside and outside. However, people in Western countries already have set their sight on this, and have gradually aimed at searching for the true meaning of moral principles and the natural law. There are those, I hear, who have discarded the ancient deceit of the creator God and now eagerly study the Buddhist teaching of cause and effect. Thus, although it has been only a few years, there may already be those who have greatly achieved the level of an internally virtuous civilization. Nevertheless, in our case of the Eastern lands, there are still very few who put their hearts into this. Nay, not only do we lack the prudence to refine our shortcomings in technical skills, but we also let the domestic treasure of our moral principles and natural law—a time-honored and splendid feature of the East worth boasting to the five continents of the world—deteriorate by the day. The very fact that we do not even reflect upon that is shameful. On both sides people have horizontal eyes and vertical noses;17 they inhabit the same space and they all equally pursue civilization. However, why is it that one side is inclined solely toward internal virtue, while the other exerts its efforts only on external forms? This type of variation is due exclusively to the fecundity or barrenness of the land and the coldness or warmth of the climate. As those before me have proven and I have also confirmed through numerous personal studies, although people have all sorts of motivations and needs, there is none more pressing than food, clothing, and shelter. Nevertheless, in many countries of Europe and North America land is barren, the climate is cold, and the hardships of ice and snow are extreme. People had nothing but weeds and leaves to wear to endure this, so they developed elaborate fabrics and manufactured woolen garments. Since it was not possible to spend the day in cave dwellings, they built firm and meticulous houses and, in the course of time, even mastered the construction of exquisite stone

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mausoleums.18 It was also similar in terms of food: when fruits and grains would not ripen and nourishment was scarce, they had no choice but to consume birds and beasts. The other hundreds of sciences and techniques all developed from the fact that food, clothing, and shelter were not abundant; people focused their energies on this one point, and things naturally developed to today’s level of detail. In terms of moral principles and natural law, however, those who lack even clothing and food are unable, from the start, to truly concentrate on the development [of such qualities]. This is why, as the proverb says, the poor have no free time; they never have the leisure to let the heart incline where it would. However, in Eastern lands things are the opposite. The soil is mostly fertile, so hemp, berries, fruits, and grains ripened naturally; the climate is mild, making it extremely easy for one to cope—even squalid huts were enough to endure against rain and dew. Coarse fabrics were enough to make one not feel the cold from frost and snow. In fact, among humankind inhabiting this world, these people are the most blessed by heaven. But, as we have explained above, they have not paid enough attention to external form, which means that their thoughts will naturally go toward internal virtue and work [to develop it]. This, as a merit of human nature itself ( jinsei shizen no kōyō 人性自然の功用), will lead people to love the superior refinement of flowers, birds, the wind, and the moon, rejoicing at their thought, or appreciate silent meditation, or enjoy simple conversation with their fellow man. That is, various pleasures will be sought inwardly and, unconsciously, internal virtue is eventually taken to a further refined and profound level. Be that as it may, in the former times when our East reached the highest stage of morals, also in terms of external forms it was in the course of achieving a level of refinement without comparison in the world. It is not that we deliberately focused on this, but since commodities abounded and we lacked neither clothing nor food, it was only natural that we went from there to focusing on aesthetic pursuits (birei o kiwamuru 美麗を極むる). However, people of later ages took comfort in this abundance and, with no desire to advance any further [in terms of external forms], put their efforts solely on the side of internal virtue. Westerners, knowing nothing about internal virtue, will focus exclusively on external forms; is it not the case, then, that their external forms have improved more and more, whereas ours have stopped advancing midway? If, in our East, we had not become comfortable with minor



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successes related to external forms, and had improved it alongside internal virtue, could we not perhaps even be proud of our civilization toward them? Well, even if we ignore the above, and simply focus on taking internal virtue, our strong point, to the stage it was before, this virtue alone would be enough to face off against their external forms. If, seeing our external forms as inadequate, they classify us as semicivilized (hankai 半 開), then is it not a pity that, pointing out their lack of internal virtue, we too cannot call them semicivilized? Whereas we have been retrogressing in both inward and outward senses, is it not extremely enviable that, beyond external form, they have also shown some progress in terms of internal virtue? All who were born in the East should set their hearts upon this, and wholeheartedly focus on restoring our own internal virtue; meanwhile, we should also strive to adopt their external forms, thus compensating for our flaws and advancing to a civilization perfect in both inner and outer terms.

Notes This translation is based on the version of “Bunmeiron” 文明論 included in Gakujutsu, shūkyō: Seiran Koji enzetsu shū 学術・宗教：青巒居士演説集, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Kōmeisha, 1884), 1–6. According to this publication, the text is a public speech given by Seiran in August 1876, edited by Hiroi Enzui 広井円 瑞 and Saijō Kōdō 西条公道. 1.  Note, however, that in recent years a number of scholars have called attention to the somewhat anachronistic character of this translation. See, for instance, Alistair D. Swale, The Meiji Restoration: Monarchism, Mass Communication and Conservative Revolution (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 90–93; and Douglas Howland, Translating the West: Language and Political Reason in Nineteenth-Century Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2002), 38–40. 2.  On Fukuzawa in particular, see Albert M. Craig, Civilization and Enlightenment: The Early Thought of Fukuzawa Yukichi (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2009). 3.  Meiroku zasshi 明六雑誌 1 (February 1874), inside front cover. 4.  A notable exception is recent research by Mick Deneckere; see her “Shin Buddhist Contributions to the Japanese Enlightenment Movement of the Early 1870s,” in Modern Buddhism in Japan, ed. Makoto Hayashi, Eiichi Ōtani, and Paul L. Swanson (Nagoya: Nanzan Institute for Religion and

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Culture, 2014), 17–51, and “The Japanese Enlightenment: A Re-examination of its Alleged Secular Character,” Global Intellectual History 1, no. 3 (2017): 219–240. 5.  Although one can find entries for Seiran in several dictionaries and encyclopedias, it appears that the original source for most of them is Chūō no kyū-Sendai hanjin tan 中央之旧仙台藩人譚, ed. Furuyama Shōgo 古山省 吾 (Tokyo: Miyagiken Ken’yōkai, 1917), 31–34. In a recent article, Sugawara Kenshū 菅原研州 provides a list of biographical sources for Seiran, pointing out discrepancies between them. For further details, see his “Ōuchi Seiran koji no zen shisō” 大内青巒居士の禅思想, Tōkai bukkyō 東海仏教 61 (2016): 77–93. For a traditional study of his role in the context of modern Japanese Buddhism, see Ikeda Eishun 池田英俊, Meiji no shin bukkyō undō 明 治の新仏教運動 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1976), 112–135; and ibid., Meiji bukkyō kyōkai, kessha shi no kenkyū 明治仏教学術・宗教史の研究 (Tokyo: Tōsui Shobō, 1994), 77–97. 6.  Ōuchi Seiran, “Seiran Jiden” 青巒自伝, Sonnō hōbutsu daidō danpō 尊 皇奉仏大同団報 3, no. 3 (April 1891): 91. 7.  Sandra T. W. Davis, Intellectual Change and Political Development in Early Modern Japan: Ono Azusa, a Case Study (Rutherford, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1980), 49–74. For a more thorough assessment in Japanese, see Sawa Taiyō 澤大洋, Kyōzon dōshū no seisei 共存同衆の生成 (Tokyo: Seizansha, 1995); for an alternative perspective on the contemporary role of the Kyōzon Dōshū, see Katsuta Masaharu 勝田政治, Ono Azusa to jiyū minken 小野梓と自由民権 (Tokyo: Yūshisha, 2010). 8.  For a recent overview of Seiran’s media enterprises, see Ōtani Eiichi 大谷 栄一, “Kindai bukkyō ni miru shinbun/zasshi, kessha, enzetsu” 近代仏教にみ る学術・宗教、結社、演説, in Shomotsu, media to shakai 書物・メディアと 社会, ed. Shimazono Susumu 島薗進 et al. (Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 2015), 234–241. 9.  The importance of this work in the context of modern Japanese Buddhism is described, for instance, in Steven Heine, “Abbreviation or Aberration: The Role of the Shushōgi in Modern Sōtō Zen Buddhism,” in Buddhism in the Modern World: Adaptations of an Ancient Tradition, ed. Steven Heine and Charles S. Prebish (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), 169–192. See also John LoBreglio, “Orthodox, Heterodox, Heretical: Defining Doctrinal Boundaries in Meiji-period Sōtō Zen,” Bochumer Jahrbuch zur Ostasienfor­ schung 33 (2009): 77–102. 10.  For a further examination of Seiran’s role in the context of enzetsu, see Hoshino Seiji 星野靖二, Kindai Nihon no shūkyō gainen 近代日本の宗教 概念 (Tokyo: Yūshisha, 2012), 71–92.



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11.  Ikeda, Meiji bukkyō kyōkai, kesshashi no kenkyū, 91. 12.  François Guizot, General History of Civilization in Europe, trans. C. S. Henry (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1842), 21–22. The Japanese translations provided for these terms are gaibō no kōfuku 外貌ノ幸福 and sōmei jinhi no seiryoku 聡明仁慈ノ勢力, respectively. See Yōroppa bunmeishi 欧羅巴文明 史, trans. Nagamine Hideki 永峰秀樹, from the English version by C. S. Henry, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Yamashiroya, 1874), 12. 13.  Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷, “Jūshichi rondai: Shūsai tsūsho” 十七論 題：修斉通書 [orig. September 1874], in Hōshi Sōdan: Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei bekkan 報四叢談：明治仏教思想資料集成別巻, ed. Meiji bukkyō shisō shiryō shūsei henshū iinkai 明治仏教思想資料集成編集委員会 (Kyoto: Dōhōsha, 1983), 35. 14.  Fukuzawa Yukichi, An Outline of a Theory of Civilization, trans. David A. Dilworth and G. Cameron Hurst III (New York: Columbia University Press, 2008), 21. 15.  For an assessment in English of the development of this particular trope, see Sakamoto Rumi, “Confucianising Science: Sakuma Shōzan and wakon yōsai Ideology,” Japanese Studies 28, no. 2 (2008): 213–226. 16.  See Orion Klautau, “Nationalizing the Dharma: Takakusu Junjirō and the Politics of Buddhist Scholarship in Early Twentieth-Century Japan,” Japanese Religions 39, no. 1–2 (2014): 53–70. 17.  Orig. gannō bichoku 眼横鼻直. This is a quote from the Chinese Zen canon, considered to have also been spoken by Dōgen upon his return from the Continent: “[N]ot having visited too many Ch’an monasteries but having only studied under the Late Master Ju-ching and plainly realizing that the eyes are horizontal and the nose vertical, without being deceived by anyone, I came home empty-handed.” (Cf. Takashi James Kodera, Dogen’s Formative Years in China [New York: Routledge, (1980) 2008], 77.) Although the Eihei Kōroku 永平広録 is given as the source, the sentence does not appear in the oldest extant manuscripts by Monkaku 門鶴 (d. 1615), but only in later Edo-period compilations by Manzan 卍山 (1636–1715). I would like to thank Gereon Kopf for this valuable information. 18.  Orig. sekishitsu tamaya 石室玉屋. Although the term tamaya as written here means “jeweler,” this is probably a misplacing of tamaya 霊屋, which can alternatively be translated as “tomb” or “sepulchre.”

chapter 2

“Publishing Goals of Hanseikai zasshi ” (1887) and “Living the Pure Life” (1887) Hanseikai zasshi Translated by James Mark Shields

Translator’s Introduction In 1885, the Nishi Honganji branch of the Shin (True Pure Land) sect opened the doors of Futsū kyōkō 普通教校 (Normal School) in Kyoto. Though the curriculum was based on Western models of secular education, Buddhists were prominent among both the faculty and students.1 Futsū Kyōkō would go on to give birth to several new Buddhist associations in the late 1880s, such as the Temperance Society (Hanseikai 反省会) and the Buddhist Propagation Society (Kaigai senkyōkai 海外宣教会). The general impetus behind the establishment of the Temperance Society on April 6, 1886, was concern over monastic corruption—both real and in the popular imagination, the latter of which was in part perpetuated by Christian missionaries.2 At the same time, as the name of the organization indicates, their initial focus was “temperance,” understood both in the specific sense of promoting abstinence from alcohol but also in the more general sense one finds in English of a commitment to living a simple, moderate, pure—and joyous—life.3 While the society’s commitment to temperance never disappeared, it would fade into the background as the movement morphed into a more generalized vehicle for trans-sectarian Buddhist reform.4 According to the journal Bukkyō, “Hanseikai became the pioneer of Buddhist reform in the decade after its start in 1886; what was new or progressive in the Buddhist world had either been started by Hanseikai or influenced by Hanseikai;

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furthermore, most of the New Buddhists were at some time members of the association.”5 Initially led by Sakurai Gichō 桜井義肇 (1868–1926) and Takakusu Junjirō 高楠順次郎 (1866–1945), the Temperance Society would come to play an important role in the transmission of Western spiritualism and esotericism to Japan, largely due to the efforts of Matsuyama Matsutarō 松山松太郎 (Ryokuin 緑陰), a Hanseikai member and teacher at Futsū Kyōkō who in 1887 began a correspondence with William Quan Judge (1851–1896), one of the original founders of the Theosophical Society. Judge would become a contributor to the Temperance Society’s journal, Hanseikai zasshi 反省会雑誌 (also known by its English title, The Temperance), first published in August 1887.6 Among other things, the birth of the journal enabled a surge of correspondence between Western esotericists and young Buddhist reformers, which led to the formation of the Buddhist Propagation Society (BPS; initially known as the Buddhist Correspondence Society) in 1888. Under the leadership of Akamatsu Renjō 赤松連城 (1841–1919), the BPS began to publish its own monthly journal, Kaigai bukkyō jijō 海外仏教事情 (Buddhist affairs overseas), in November 1888.7 This early attempt at interreligious dialogue was bound to lead to some confusion. As Yoshinaga Shin’ichi notes, Matsuyama, who acted as both translator and editor, may have been the only one on the Japanese side to understand Theosophy.8 Beginning in 1899, with a new, broader mandate and a new title—Chūō kōron 中央公論 (Central review)—the Hanseikai zasshi would emerge as a significant forum for intellectual debate in the following decades. Indeed, the decade between 1885 and 1895 saw a veritable profusion of Buddhist societies and associated journals. In addition to Hanseikai zasshi, these included Ryōchikai zasshi 令知会雑誌 (published by the Ryōchikai 令知会), Bukkyō 仏教 (published by the Nōjunsha 能潤社), Ōbei no bukkyō 欧米之仏教, and a short-lived English-language magazine called The Bijou of Asia.9 Although the roughly 400 Buddhist journals that were operating in the early 1890s expressed a wide range of opinions and viewpoints, journalists and editors of the day were frequently struck by how little focus there was on doctrine or sectarian disputes, and how much on sociopolitical concerns and issues of the day. In addition, as we have seen above, there was concern to present Buddhism in a favorable light in relation to (and often as a bulwark against) both Christianity and secular Western ideas such as materialism. As Snodgrass notes:

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Doctrinal disputation between sects was not only irrelevant at this time of intense social concern but counterproductive. The important issues of the discourse were what each religion could offer the nation and the compatibility of each with modern science, Western philosophy, and Japanese identity, “settling the problem of religion in its political and social bearings” for the “possession and guidance of social development in the empire.”10 In the first translation below, of the “Publishing Goals of Hanseikai zasshi” (Hanseikai zasshi hakkan shui 反省会雑誌発刊主意), we see a number of characteristic features. First, the tone is dramatic and the style florid—one might say overwrought—which speaks of the youthful idealism of the society members but also of the sense of urgency felt by many of the so-called young men of Meiji.11 Second, note the anti-institutional flavor, which mixes a modernist disdain for traditionalism with a moralistic and missionary zeal to spread the (true) faith, topped off with an appeal to the repayment of “debt” (on 恩)—a foundational East Asian cultural value that would be reappropriated by Buddhist modernists to affirm a commitment to social progress. We may also note the use of English, both on the title page of the journal, where “the temperance magazine of the temperance association” is emblazoned in all caps above the Japanese title, and also with the inclusion of the following short epigraph directly above the publishing goals: Praise be to the Blessed One, the Holy One, the Author of All Truth. For Our Lord Buddha’s Sake Do all the good you can In all the ways you can To all the people you can Whenever you can Wherever you can And as long as you can! This passage serves as a perfect example of the universal aspirations of Hanseikai, and by extension, of Japanese Buddhist modernism of the mid- to late-Meiji period. While the first two lines are eminently traditional Buddhism, the following six move toward a generic humanism, albeit one with a palpable (liberal Protestant) Christian coloring.12 At



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the same time, these invocative lines could be glossed as a “modern” reading of the classical Mahāyāna bodhisattva vow. The second translation includes excerpts from an article in Issue 1 of Hanseikai zasshi, entitled “Living the Pure Life” (Negawaku wa kiyoki shōgai o okure 願くは清き生涯を送れ). Here the rhetoric is turned up even further, as the initial paragraph makes clear, with its snakes, tigers, and cold shivers up the spine. The following three paragraphs, also included here, provide further information with regard to the aims of the society, reiterating their ambition and determination, while doubling down on the idea that abstinence/temperance can be viewed as a kind of “higher pleasure.” The piece concludes with an appeal to “come close” to the society and its ideals, which will provide protection and hope against the perils of alcohol.

Translations “Publishing Goals of Hanseikai zasshi” Ah! As if after a long drought that has dried up the rivers, those who labor in the field of the Buddha’s teachings are now hard at work tilling the soil. We are entering a period of the decline of the Buddha’s teachings. So why do these people work so hard to make time for socializing with alcohol? These are the very people who of their own volition have left the demands of the world [to enter the Shin sect], in order to cultivate their spirit according to the demands of the dharma. And yet they lack the power to restrain the minor but persistent desires of the flesh. Without the seed of virtue implanted by temperance, their future prospects look bleak. Currently, those who have followed the directives of our sectarian faith are being driven away from our self-obsessed rules and into the arms of socialism. People want us to spread our knowledge widely, entrusting to us the development of faith. In truth, we are humbled in taking on this heavy task, to spread the Buddha’s teachings and bring these to the attention of the world. We will manage to somehow persevere, by relying on the assistance of the Buddha and being thankful that he was able to open the door to an easy way to cultivate the virtue of abstinence from alcohol. To start with, we will not follow the fuzzy saying of old that one can drink, but just not in excess. We do not intend to follow the bold-faced,

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nonsensical expression of [Samuel] Johnson, by which one can stop drinking alcohol without really giving up alcohol. Also, we are not interested in petitioning the government to establish prohibition. During this short interval between life and death, our hearts traverse the road that encompasses both illusion and awakening. Directing our gaze toward social realities while reflecting on our own selves, we will correct our faults with humility. Following the correct path without fear, if we can pay back even a small amount of the debt we have incurred, we will reject the control and influence of others and take full responsibility for all that we must undertake. We are publishing this magazine to show how our members and dear friends can solidify their family relationships. In this magazine our members will debate ideas, so by reading it one can get a snapshot of our movement. We do not need any more time and material to produce this magazine than we get from cutting off drink. So why shouldn’t we call this movement the moral flower of temperance? Again, is this anything other than one small way of repaying our debts?

“Living the Pure Life” Ah! Who is it that causes trouble? Who acts in a queer way? Who is quarrelsome? Who has scars without reason? Who has bloodshot eyes? Most often it is those who drink excessively. A single cup of fresh bubbles makes you stagger, and upon drinking you become like a snake spreading poison, as ferocious as a tiger. The great harm done to law-abiding people is worse than a state of tyranny. One drink of this poison-water distorts your mind and body, puts you out of sorts, prompts you to spout falsehoods, and makes you lose the ability to distinguish between pure and embarrassing acts. Then, as soon as you get sober, you once again hunt for a drink. This is not something we say for the sake of personal profit, but rather because in the past we ourselves have had this experience. Reflecting now upon those past circumstances sends cold shivers down the length of our spines. In this way, we have attained a feeling of happiness, not through our own efforts but by relying on the power of the religious principles of our sect. By the heat of our passion, we will realize our never-ending and limitless hopes. To this we are solidly committed. We are thus now unfurling our sails and embarking on a voyage of hope. We are learning how to navigate the waters and engaging in hard study and training, no matter



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what it takes. There is much to do, and we have little time to carry it out. The power that moves us is not the pleasure of the flesh, but rather the pleasure of the intellect; not the pleasure of the intellect, but rather the pleasure of morality; not the pleasure of the flesh, intellect, or morality, but something more. To place one’s mind and body in the service of the Buddha is the highest pleasure. As such, in order for us to achieve our boundless hopes, each and every one must engage in careful self-reflection, examining the conditions of our current society, with humble awareness of what is going on around us, in each and every thought and action. Appealing to the judgment of the heavenly Buddha, let your conscience shine on all you do. We should be pure and joyful, without embarrassing ourselves. In this way, we hope that we will be able to navigate straight through the many and difficult waters ahead of us. Why do we waste our time at drinking parties? We do not have the time to fall into the wicked path of slavery to our bodily desires. Yes, we are filled with enthusiasm to carry out our ambitious hopes, which are not merely to cut down on drinking, and to curtail time wasted away in service to carnal desires, but to wholeheartedly rouse our collective spirits, establish temperance as a principle, support and encourage our members, and publish our magazine. With the little time and energy we have, in sickness and health, we will work according to our conscience. According to researchers, the harms caused by drinking are not small, and the benefits from temperance are many, so that is why we are doing what we are doing. [. . .] Alcohol is not something that provides the source of our happiness; rather it becomes our slave driver. And yet, this does not have to be the case. We can win the battle against alcohol, forcing it to wave the white flag. Do not follow the herd, but rather come close to those who will provide you with shelter from the cold winter winds.

Notes The first translation is based on “Publishing Goals of Hanseikai zasshi” (Hanseikai zasshi hakkan shui) as outlined in the inaugural issue, August 1887. The second one is based on Anon., “Living the Pure Life” (Negawaku wa kiyoki shōgai o okure), Issue 1, December 1887. Both texts are included in Fukushima Hirotaka 福嶋寛隆 et al., ed., Hansei(kai) Zasshi 反省（会）雑 誌, vol. 1 (Kyoto: Nagata Bunshōdō, 2005), 3 and 13–15, respectively. 1.  See Tanigawa Yutaka 谷川穣, “Meiji zenki ni okeru sōryo yōsei gakkō to ‘zokujin kyōiku’: Shinshū Honganji-ha Futsū Kyōkō no setchi o megutte” 明

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治前期における僧侶養成学校と「俗人教育」：真宗本願寺派普通教校の 設置をめぐって, Nihon no kyōiku shigaku 日本の教育史学 46 (2003): 25–43. 2.  See Miura Shumon 三浦朱門, “Chūō kōron” hyakunen o yomu 『中央公 論』100年を読む (Tokyo: Chūō Kōronsha, 1986), 12, for a discussion of the founding of Hanseikai as a direct response to the school’s treatment of a teetotaling English teacher, Satō Genbei 佐藤源兵衛. 3.  See Miura, Chūō kōron, 14: “When the inaugural issue was published in 1887 (Meiji 20), above the Japanese masthead reading Hanseikai zasshi was emblazoned the English title: the temperance magazine of the temperance association. While the English word ‘temperance’ can take the sense of kinshu 禁酒 (lit. abstinence from alcohol), it also had a broader sense of ‘moderation’ or ‘self-restraint.’ In other words, in addition to the initial impetus to put an end to promote reflection on the problems of overindulgence in alcohol, the goals of Hanseikai included spiritual activism toward the goal of achieving a life of moderation.” 4.  See Yoshinaga Shin’ichi 吉永進一, “Japanese Buddhism and the Theosophical Movement: A General View,” in Hirai Kinza ni okeru Meiji bukkyō no kokusaika ni kansuru shūkyōshi, bunkashi-teki kenkyū 平井金三にお ける明治仏教の国際化に関する宗教史・文化史的研究 (Grants-in-Aid for Scientific Research, Category C, no. 16520060, 2007), 80–86. 5.  Notto R. Thelle, Buddhism and Christianity in Japan: From Conflict to Dialogue (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 1987), 200. 6.  For one of the most thorough studies on the association published thus far, see Akamatsu Tesshin 赤松徹眞, ed., “Hanseikai zasshi” to sono shūhen 『反省会雑誌』とその周辺 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2018). 7.  See Charles Johnston, “Yūgen bukkyōron” 幽玄仏教論, Kaigai bukkyō jijō 1 (November 1888). 8.  Yoshinaga, “Japanese Buddhism and the Theosophical Movement,” 84; see Matsuyama Ryokuin [i.e., Matsutarō] 松山緑陰, “Ōbei ni okeru bukkyō shisō no yurai o ronzu” 欧米に於ける仏教思想の由来を論す, Kaigai bukkyō jijō 4–8, 10 (November 1889–May 1890). 9.  By the early 1890s, with the waning influence of the Civilization and Enlightenment (bunmei kaika 文明開化) Movement and the emergence of kokutai 国体 and kokusui 国粋 ideologies, Buddhist journals and lay organizations became decidedly less internationalist in scope; see Kashiwahara Yūsen 柏原祐泉, Nihon bukkyōshi: Kindai 日本仏教史：近代 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1990), 62. 10.  Judith Snodgrass, Presenting Japanese Buddhism to the West: Orientalism, Occidentalism, and the Columbian Exposition (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003), 134.



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11.  A term coined by journalist Tokutomi Sohō 徳富蘇峰 (1863–1957) to describe the generation that came of age during the second decade of Meiji, that is, the first cohort to receive the benefits of the compulsory education instituted in the 1870s—an education that included significant, if eclectic, exposure to Western ideas and values. 12.  The final six lines of this quote are, in fact, of uncertain provenance. They are not biblical ( pace Miura, Chūō kōron, 14), but are today often attributed— mistakenly, it would seem—to John Wesley (1703–1791), English founder of Methodism. Intriguingly, the exact same quote, in identical wording, appears in the 1887 edition of the National Temperance Mirror (p. 72), published by the British Temperance Society, where it is called a “Japanese proverb”! It seems likely that the latter “borrowed” the passage from the former, assuming that it was a Japanese proverb, when in fact the Hanseikai may have borrowed it from English Methodism, if not from Wesley himself.

chapter 3

“On the Relationship Between Man and Woman” (1888) Shimaji Mokurai Translated by Stephan Kigensan Licha Introduction by Iwata Mami and Stephan Kigensan Licha

Translators’ Introduction From the 1880s onward, Buddhist priests intensified their activities in various associations, and in all parts of Japan Buddhist societies were formed. Behind this burst of activity was fear of the spread of Christianity. In the early 1880s, the Christian religion was encouraged as the Meiji government adopted the promotion of Westernization in many areas of life and culture, in law, and in the political system. Schools founded by Christian missionaries came to be established at an increasing pace and Christian associations for youth and women vigorously expanded their activities. Under these circumstances, one of the representative Buddhist societies founded by Buddhist priests who feared the spread of Christianity that accompanied these “civilizing activities” was the Ryōchikai 令知 会, which published the Ryōchikai zasshi 令知会雑誌 as its official organ. The Ryōchikai zasshi, which appeared from 1884 until 1892, was a pioneering Buddhist magazine that sought to shape public opinion at a time when the zeitgeist shifted from an embrace of Westernization to nationalism.1 These activities were led by Jōdo Shinshū priests, the most prominent among whom was Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷 (1838–1911). Shimaji was born as the fourth son of Kiyomizu Enzui 清水円随, the chief priest of Senshōji 専照寺, a temple in the village of Wada 和田 in 200



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Suō Province (present-day Shūnan 周南 City in Yamaguchi Prefecture). Later, he entered Myōseiji 妙誓寺 in Shimaji-mura 島地村 in Saba Province (present-day Yamaguchi City) and took the surname Shimaji. From an early age, he learned Shinshū doctrine from Haraguchi Shinsui 原口 針水 (1808–1893), the chief instructor (kangaku 勧学) of Nishi Honganji 西本願寺. Beginning with his cooperation with the Shinshū priests Ōzu Tetsunen 大洲鉄然 (1834–1902) and Akamatsu Renjō 赤松蓮城 (1841–1919) in the religious reform of the Shinshū temples in Suō and Nagato 長門 (present-day Yamaguchi Prefecture) during the bakumatsu period, once the new Meiji government was established Shimaji called for the reform of the feudal system of religious affiliation and led the movement to reform the religious organization of the Nishi Honganji. In 1872, he was among the first Japanese Buddhist priests to travel to the West. He traveled to Europe together with Umegami Takuyū 梅上沢融 (1835–1907) and Akamatsu and toured France, the United Kingdom, Germany, the Netherlands, Italy, and other countries in order to inspect the situation of religion outside Japan. As the Nishi Honganji had made significant financial contributions toward the movement to abolish the Bakufu it enjoyed some influence with the new Meiji government, and Shimaji especially was on good terms with politicians of the Chōshū faction such as Kido Takayoshi 木戸孝允 (1833–1877) and Itō Hirobumi 伊藤博文 (1841–1909), connections that were crucial in enabling him to travel to Europe at such an early date. From this journey, Shimaji would emerge as one of the driving forces of Meiji Buddhist reform and modernization.2 After his return, Shimaji introduced the Western concept of religion and, stressing the freedom of belief, plotted the withdrawal of the Nishi Honganji from the Great Teaching Institute (daikyōin 大教院). He contributed to the rebirth of Buddhism at a time of crisis caused by the government’s policy of separating it from Shintō and the anti-Buddhist violence this policy had sparked, and thus helped to establish Buddhism as a modern religion. The Western concept of “religion” had begun to take root in Japan in the second half of the nineteenth century, and Shimaji played a significant part in the process of it becoming firmly established.3 Furthermore, while serving in such important positions as chief executive officer of the Nishi Honganji in Tokyo, the center of progress and civilizing activities, he founded Buddhist associations such as the Ryōchikai and the Byakurensha 白蓮者, and engaged in Buddhist missionary activities through the medium of print magazines. He supported the early Young Men’s Buddhist Association

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(Bukkyō seinenkai 仏教青年会) movement and had a hand in establishing Buddhist women’s associations. In 1888 he founded the Joshi bungei gakusha 女子文芸学舎 school for girls (present-day Chiyoda Kōtō Gakuin 千代田高等学院), putting his efforts into women’s education. In the article translated below, which appeared in Ryōchikai zasshi in 1888, the same year that he founded the Joshi bungei gakusha, Shimaji discusses education for women from the point of view of a Buddhist. Japanese Buddhists began to become active in the establishment of schools for girls in the second half of the 1880s, largely under the aspect of competition with the Christian establishment of girls’ schools.4 In the Buddhist world, Shimaji was among the first to expound on the necessity of women’s education. Yet when it came to the principles of this education, he emphasized the need to differentiate between boys and girls in terms of both educational method and aims, as well as not to merely import Western culture but rather to weigh its advantages and disadvantages and adopt only what is deemed necessary. Among contemporary Christians, there were those who emphasized that the Eastern custom to treasure men and belittle women was due to the influence of Buddhism and Confucianism and that, conversely, the high esteem in which women were held in the countries of the West was due to the influence of Christianity. Shimaji countered that neither Buddhism nor Confucianism was discriminatory against women, and pointed out that the high esteem in which women were held in the West was due to the progress of culture and not based on Christian teachings. Here Shimaji’s intention to separate Christianity, which aimed to expand the reach of its teachings by riding the wave of Westernization, from modern Western culture is apparent.5 Furthermore, Shimaji held that the main duty of women was to manage domestic affairs, to educate children, and to protect the household in order to enable their husbands to devote themselves single-mindedly to business and public affairs. He explained that educating women with these ends in mind required special training for girls in things such as sewing and cooking. The ideal is an education that nurtures the proper “virtue” (toku 徳) of Japanese women according to the division of labor along the lines of gender roles. An image of women connected to the ideology of the “good wife and sagely mother” (ryōsai kenbo 良妻賢母) is apparent, and a current of nationalism cannot be ignored. In the second half of the 1880s, the word “household” (katei 家庭) spread rapidly in Japan and was scrutinized and discussed as showing a



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new form of “family.”6 With the appearance of modern labor in Meiji society, a division of labor according to gender roles formed (charging the male with care for the public and the female with care for the domestic sphere), and a new kind of “family” was born. One part of the Buddhist clergy, including Shimaji, was aware of this, and while adopting this new concept began to emphasize the importance of religious education for girls. Furthermore, while the first half of the 1880s was a time of vigorous Christian activity due to the policy of Europeanization, in the second half of that decade the rise of nationalism lent strength to the spread of Buddhism. In this period, an awareness of being engaged in a competition with Christianity led to the establishment of schools for girls and women’s associations by Buddhist clergy, as well as to the publication of Buddhist magazines for women.7 However, on the level of religious organization, this movement did not spread throughout the totality of the Buddhist world, and as Buddhist sectarian academies continued to emphasize nurturing the male clergy, women continued to be marginalized.

Translation Recently, in these whereabouts, the number of those who establish schools for girls and who pursue the problem of women’s education has risen daily, and this problem in many respects involves the future civilization of our society. I as well have feelings [on this matter] that cannot in the least be quieted. In the end, I have prepared this essay On the Relationship Between Man and Woman. Being the great root of human morality, the foundation of the people, husband and wife shoulder the great responsibility of nurturing boys and girls through the mutual aid of hard and soft and the harmony of yin and yang. For this reason, they have the duty to complement the two wings, the two wheels, the inner and outer, the public and the private; and it is therefore the nature of the heavenly principle, the common opinion of the world, that education is necessary for man and woman alike. Although in our country this [idea] has today reached a certain level of consensus and is discussed enthusiastically, when it comes to the methods and purpose of this education, the merits and demerits of whether [girls should be] treated the same or differently than boys are not yet settled, and neither is whether Western customs and virtuous

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practices should be directly transplanted in total or rather the strengths and weaknesses of West and East considered, and a middle course steered between them. Today this can be considered the foremost problem when it comes to the education of women and girls. I believe that if women and girls entrust themselves to the custom of old, which makes it their virtue to dwell secluded in the inner quarters and to submit to men, then the acquisition or lack of an education has no bearing on them. However, I believe that if one wishes to assist in the progress of society through the influence of the education of women and girls, then the benefit or harm to society, as depending on the acquisition or lack of education, is great, and above all an investigation of the relationship between man and woman cannot in the least be neglected. In general, the harmony of yin and yang, which is the nature of man and woman, has as its function the rearing of sons and daughters. However, appropriate assets are necessary for harmony to be well achieved and for rearing to be completed. This is because, according to abundance or scarcity, to the poverty or richness of assets, in harmony there is deep and shallow, in rearing prosperous and destitute. As for the welfare of one’s own beloved children, it is no trifling matter to be put in circumstances of prosperity or adversity. Needless to say, those who are expected to raise their children with dedicated compassion must, for that purpose, also receive an education of their own. What is called “education” is required to correspond to the respective disposition and capabilities of men and women. That which leads to the loss of the fundamental virtues of hardness and softness, of yin and yang, that which confuses [such virtues], cannot be called “education.” Quite the contrary, one must say it is actually damaging to moral nature. Although there are those in the world who say that men and women should have equal rights and so on, I do not agree with them in the least. This is because, in general, rights (kenri 権利) exist consequent upon duty (gimu 義務). If duties are many, then so are rights; if duties are few, then so are rights. There should be no difference in the rights of men and women if their duties were also equal; this is not, however, the current situation. Why should there be equality in rights when there is such difference in terms of duties? Their appropriate balance and the measure of their equality can only be accomplished by civilized virtue, which compensates the lack [of rights and duties in women] with the surplus [of rights and duties in men,] and thereby elevates the natural and innate virtues [of women and men].



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Now, if one compares and investigates the bodily characteristics and natures of men and women, there will be much that is opposing and not equal. Just as the virtues in the world are different, divided into lofty and base, high and low, so also when it comes to men and women, who again are like a small world in themselves; they oppose each other completely, throughout their life and death, their beginning and end. Like when it is said that men of necessity are born glancing downward, while women of necessity are born looking upward, men, even when drowning in water, die looking downward, while women die looking upward—they cannot fight what yin and yang have naturally brought forth. Even when a painter or a sculptor depicts wildlife and fish (umō rinkai 羽毛鱗介), for [species] where there are both male and female, one of them is always with its mouth open while the other has it closed, in A-un 阿吽 form [, clearly defining which is male and which is female].8 The principle here is the same as in the the pure yang and pure yin trigrams, the even and odd of the Changes.9 The differentiation of the shapes of yin and yang, the separation of the virtues of hardness and softness are the primordial character of man and woman. If man and woman thus by nature differ in their nature and virtue, then the standards of the human effort of educating them likewise cannot but discriminate accordingly. The difference in the nature of hardness and softness, the separation of the qualities of strength and weakness, does not only apply to humans. It can be commonly observed extending to all the ten thousand things, animal and plant, and not even a single one stands outside this rule. When one sees the superiority of the beauty of down and feather and the severity of hoof and horn among males and their inferiority among females, it has to be said that it is clearly obvious that men are endowed with natural dignity and ornamentation and women lack it. For this reason, when women apply artificial makeup and use red and green powders to augment the beauty of their looks, this is the principle of the nature of heaven [at work], and shows us that there is indeed superior and inferior in the characteristics of strength and weakness, of hardness and softness. Although this is the case, to suppress the inferior with the superior, to control the weak with the strong, to humble the soft with the hard, to rashly and impulsively indulge one’s desires, all these are the acts of barbarians and beasts, of what is called the society of might and the world of eat or be eaten. When one enters even a little the sphere of progress and civilization, love, respect, help, and protection are mutually

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considered; by using the surplus to compensate the lack, we are naturally brought to equality and complementarity. That is to say, this is the reason why we left behind the barbarous world of war with fist and mace, and have proceeded to the citadel of civilization, where love and respect [are expressed by] bowing with clasped hands. These are the results we achieved from organizing the human effort. Yet, there are those who attribute it to a doctrinal lack in Buddhism and Confucianism that in the customs of the East women appear to be controlled and suppressed, and attribute it to the achievements of Christianity that in the customs of the West women are esteemed. Although the merits and demerits of these two teachings are thereby considered, this is a gravely erroneous argument of those ignorant of the essential natures [of these doctrines]. That the West has come to accord women respect is the result of the advancement of civilization, not a specific achievement pertaining only to Christianity. For instance, the explanations of the Bible greatly contradict the complementary equality of men and women and for the greatest part expound a difference in their rights. According to the [book of] Genesis in the Old Testament, God first created a man called Adam and then, to amuse him in his solitude, took one of his ribs to create a woman called Eve. Look! Men and women are not equal in their origin! Furthermore, when God punished their disobedience, he first disciplined Adam with the suffering of hard labor, and chastised Eve with the pains of difficult childbirth. It is obvious that in their transgressions there was light and grave; there was, in their punishment, leniency and severity. How can this be called equality of man and woman? This is according to the first book of the Old Testament. When one turns to the New Testament, the explanation is the same. In First Corinthians 11 it is written, “For the man is not of the woman; but the woman of the man. Neither was the man created for the woman; but the woman for the man.”10 Again, in First Corinthians 14, it says, “Let your women keep silence in the churches: for it is not permitted unto them to speak; [. . .] And if they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home: for it is a shame for women to speak in the church.”11 And in First Timothy 2, it says, “But I suffer not a woman to teach, to usurp authority over the man.”12 It is clear that this is not teaching equal rights. It being therefore undisputed that man and woman do not have equal rights, it is merely taught that, because of the duty of mutual help between the hard and the soft, the husband should love the wife, and the wife respect



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the husband (Ephesians 5 and Colossians 3). When it comes to the mutual love and respect of today, this was arrived at by the calm and confident natural progress of civilization. If Christians wish to claim this as exclusive to the merit and teachings of their tradition, this is as if the head of a household, displaying a mouse his cat has caught, were to praise his own dexterity. It is not the fault of the two teachings of Confucianism and Buddhism that the customs of the East have not yet reached a satisfactory stage, but rather that their teachings and accomplishments have not yet spread enough. Things such as the Buddhist prohibition on women entering certain areas are in order to prevent distracting monks in their ascetic practice. Furthermore, this is the same as forbidding wives to enter places of learning or military training today. How could this have the intention of scorning wives? Indian custom, too, respects mothers more than fathers. Many boys and girls take the name of the clan of the mother. This should also be known from the story of Jīvaka reproaching King Ajātaśatru for intending to kill his own mother, as told in the Amitāyurdhyāna Sūtra (Kanmuryōjukyō 観無量寿経).13 If even worldly customs (sezoku 世俗) are like this, how much more so in Buddhism! As for those who disparage women as being no vessel for the Way of the Buddha, they will focus on their weak determination, on them not enduring stern discipline, and due to the softness of their bodies, as lacking in hard, focused practice. If their determination were strong and they could endure the hard practice, then even if they be women, they would not be disparaged. Rather, they would in praise be called manly. This is like the Lotus Sūtra teaching the dragon girl’s fulfillment of Buddhahood in this very body.14 For this reason, in the exchange between Śāriputra and the heavenly maiden recounted in the Vimalakīrti Sūtra (Yuimakyō 維摩経), it is explained that she becomes a man, and Śāriputra becomes a woman.15 This is not a change in the physical form but, in order to amplify the superior and inferior faculties of the Great and Small Vehicles,16 the designations “man” and “woman” are borrowed in order to praise and disparage the maiden and Śāriputra. This is just as when, today, a woman, despite being a woman, manages to bear a great weight with her strength, and one says: “Do not worry, she is manly!” Or as when a girl is growing strong in health, and one says: “She has grown up in a manly way.” The terms “man” and “woman” are then expressions for the hard and soft and do not refer to the physical bodies of men and women; they are appellations for distinguishing the courage or cowardice, the

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strength or weakness of determination. Thus, one should know that if one says that women are not vessels for the Way of the Buddha, these words apply to both men and women and indicate that all weak and inferior faculties are not vessels for the Way of the Buddha. Such words do not intend to disrespect women. Likewise, the Chinese custom to make a difference between men and women ought to have its reason elsewhere. How could this be something to derive from a lack or fault in Confucianism? [. . .] Basically, the meaning of the word husband is “to help.”17 He is the one who provides help using the Way. The meaning of wife follows from “woman” and “broom.”18 It indicates taking care of the chores holding a broom. The meaning of spouse is “conform.” It means to conform with the husband. For this reason, it says in the Book of Rites (Liji 礼儀), “eating together from the sacrificial animal, sipping together from the nuptial cup, thus now one body, equally ranked, and pledged to mutual affection.”19 The man precedes the woman, that is to say the man commands the woman and the woman follows the man. This is the great meaning of husband and wife. The man calling and the woman responding, this is the innate virtue of the nature of yang and yin, of hardness and softness. The wife, having no rank of her own, follows the rank of the husband and is seated according to her husband’s seniority: this is righteousness itself. If the virtue in Heaven and Earth is at all in harmony, how could high and low be abandoned? Also, this is the same as when ruler and people harmonize; the high and the low will not be obstructed. As hardness and softness are distinguished by their virtue, calling and responding necessarily have their proper order. Thus commanding and following are well established by themselves. Given this, why must one take a one-sided attitude that seeks to erase these differences, obsessing over whether among men and women rights are many or few, existent or absent? In addition, I would now like to show this by giving one example for the reason that even a man, when not following propriety, has no right to ignorantly threaten a woman. Once upon a time, Mengzi 孟子, already married, wanted to enter a room where his wife was half-naked. Mengzi was unhappy and, passing [the room] without entering, complained to his mother about his wife, demanding that she be sent away. His mother addressed him, saying, “According to propriety, the reason to unfailingly raise one’s voice (e.g., by coughing) before ascending to a hall is to warn the people therein, unfailingly lowering one’s gaze (e.g., by looking at one’s feet) before entering a door is for fear of seeing the



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transgression of the people therein. Is it not a mistake that you blame your wife, although you yourself have not kept propriety?” Mengzi then apologized to his wife and gave up on sending her away. Therefore, as a person of virtue (kunshi 君子) would say, “Mengzi’s mother, knowing propriety, was clear about the way of wife and mother-in-law.”20 Everybody considered this a beautiful story. Thus, teaching that husband and wife do not wantonly seek power for themselves, but instead that both treat each other following propriety, is the fundamental morality of Confucianism, and therefore Confucianism definitely is not biased concerning the rights of men and women. In the West, honesty and obedience are also esteemed in wives. One and all can be moved by the docile grace of the conduct of the Empress Josephine, the wife of Napoleon I of France, who ought to be an exemplar to women of future generations. When traveling together with her lord and husband, even when urged to make a sudden departure, she did not utter a single word of complaint, dressed without delay, and obeyed with a joyful and happy face. One time, when returning from Genoa to Paris, the road the emperor had ordered to take was dangerous, and somebody suggested to change to a different, easier road. The empress did not make use [of this proposition] and said, “I must follow the order of my husband and lord. My husband and lord’s order is my law. Certainly, I cannot turn my back on it!” Ah, the graceful virtues of sagely wives in the West, how could one not wonder at it! Why should this docile obedience, in the case of Eastern women, then be considered a fault? The main point of what has been argued above is that, as man and woman differ in the hardness and softness of their virtues, there should be a natural division of labor between inner and outer, public and private. The main concern of education for women thus is to make them accomplished in all the duties necessary for the household, such as domestic economy, supervising the education of boys and girls, sewing, cooking, entertaining guests, and serving customers. The ordering and management of domestic matters is the first duty of women, so that their husbands and sons-in-law, even while having to deal with extrahousehold public business, are entirely unobstructed in applying their surplus efforts to the myriad affairs without having to give a thought to domestic matters. In short, by esteeming handsomeness, docility, unpretentiousness, and chastity, the graces of innate virtue are not lost, the strings of lute and zither are harmonized, and the healthy prosperity of the home can be protected.

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It is therefore my opinion that the strengths and weaknesses of East and West should be considered and a middle course steered between them.

Notes This translation is based on Shimaji Mokurai 島地黙雷, “Danjo kankei ron” 男女関係論, in Ryōchikai zasshi 令知会雑誌 47 (1888): 65–76. The article is written under Shimaji’s pen name Uden dōjin 雨田道人. 1.  Nakanishi Naoki 中西直樹 and Kondō Shuntarō 近藤俊太郎, eds., Ryōchikai to Meiji bukkyō 令知会と明治仏教 (Tokyo: Fuji Shuppan, 2017), 2. 2.  Yoshida Kyūichi 吉田久一, Nihon kindai bukkyōshi kenkyū 日本近代仏 教史研究 (Tokyo: Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1959), 103. 3.  See Hans Martin Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai and the Reconception of Religion and the Secular in Modern Japan (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2015). 4.  Nakanishi Naoki 中西直樹, Nihon kindai no bukkyō joshi kyōiku 日本近 代の仏教女子教育(Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2000), 25. 5.  The same move is already visible in texts written by Shimaji as early as 1872. In his petition “Critique of the Three Standards of Instruction” sent from Paris to the Japanese government in that year, he wrote: “Even threeyear-old children know that European enlightenment [. . .] is not founded upon Christianity but on Greece and Rome. Ascribing [European civilization] to the merits of religion is just the product of the arbitrary will of missionaries” (translation in Krämer, Shimaji Mokurai, 155). 6.  Koyama Shizuko 小山静子, Katei no seisei to josei no kokuminka 家庭の 生成と女性の国民化 (Tokyo: Keisō Shobō, 1999), 31. 7.  See Iwata Mami 岩田真美 and Nakanishi Naoki 中西直樹, eds., Bukkyō fujin zasshi no sōkan 仏教婦人雑誌の創刊 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2019). 8.  A 阿 and Un 吽 are the Japanese renditions of the Sanskrit letters a and hūṃ, standing for the fully open and closed mouth, respectively. 9.  “Changes” refers to the Yijing 易経, the Chinese divinatory classic. The “pure yang trigram” is the trigram qian 乾, which is composed of three unbroken lines. The “pure yin trigram” is kun 坤, comprised of three broken lines. “Odd” and “even” (kigū 奇偶) refers to the unbroken and broken lines themselves, the former representing yang, the latter yin. 10.  Shimaji does not quote any of the Japanese Bible translations available at this time but rather the 1863 translation into literary Chinese by the Protestant missionaries Elijah Bridgman (1801–1861) and Michael



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Culbertson (1819–1862). See Elijah Bridgman and Michael Culbertson, trans., Xinyue shengshu 新約聖書 (Shanghai: Susong shanghai meihuashu guancang 蘇松上海美華書館藏 [Shanghai Presbyterian Mission Press], 1863), 161. The editors would like to thank Christian Meyer (Berlin) and George Mak (Hong Kong) for help in finding the origin of these citations. 11.  Ibid., 164. 12.  Ibid., 200. 13.  T 12:341a–b. 14.  T 9:35b–35c. In this story, the eight-year-old daughter of a dragon king transforms into a man and instantaneously achieves Buddhahood after having been taught the Lotus. This episode has become the foundation of the doctrine of “attaining Buddhahood in / with this body” (sokushin jōbutsu 即身成仏) in the Japanese Tendai 天台 tradition. It exemplifies the universal saving power of the Lotus, relying on which even a being as lowly as a dragon girl can speedily attain liberation. This doctrine should not be confused with the one taught under the same name in the Shingon 真言 school. 15.  T 14:548b. 16.  Mahāyāna (daijō 大乗) and Hīnayāna (shōjō 小乗), respectively. 17.  Shimaji here uses the character fu 扶 when writing “to help,” the right-hand element of which, standing alone, is the character fu 夫, meaning “husband.” 18.  Again, Shimaji derives this “meaning” from the Chinese characters, in this case fu 婦 for “wife,” consisting of the elements jo 女 and sō 帚, for “woman” and “broom,” respectively. 19.  Liji, “Hunyi” 昏義 (On the meaning of the marriage ceremony), art. 2. 20.  This story can be found in the biography of Mengzi’s mother recorded in the section on “Matronly Models” (muyi zhuan) 母儀伝 of Liu Xiang’s 劉向 (77–6 BCE) Lienü zhuan 列女伝 (Biographies of exemplary women).

chapter 4

On Buddhist Marriage (1894) Tanaka Chigaku Translated by G. Clinton Godart

Translator’s Introduction What at first sight might look like a peripheral issue, Tanaka Chigaku’s proposals concerning Buddhist marriage, involved a fundamental reorientation for Buddhism. When in 1872, the new Meiji government abolished the centuries-old legal regulations and prohibitions that enforced Buddhist discipline for the clergy (nikujiki saitai chikuhatsu nado katte tarubeki koto 肉食妻帯蓄髪等可為勝手事), it sparked an intense debate over the precepts, not least the issue of marriage, the role of the state with regards to these, and by extension state-Buddhism relations. In the wake of the anti-Buddhist persecutions, many Buddhists perceived the lifting of the prohibition on marriage as a way to undermine Buddhism. Within the Buddhist sects as well as in the wider Japanese society, opinions clashed over whether Buddhists should allow clerical marriage or not, and if so, how.1 Tanaka Chigaku 田中智学 (1861–1939) was a lay Buddhist evangelist who, disillusioned with the Nichiren sect, had in 1879 abandoned his formal training as priest. He became the most important spokesman of “Nichirenism” (Nichirenshugi 日蓮主義), a popular religious and ideological movement advocating spreading the Lotus Sūtra throughout Japanese society and, further, the entire world. Leading several lay organizations, most importantly the influential Pillar of the Nation Society (Kokuchūkai 国柱会), founded in 1914, he became known for fusing his belief in Nichi­ ren Buddhism with ideas about Japan’s national essence (kokutai 国体) and expansionism, advocating that Japan had a unique mission to spread belief in the Lotus Sūtra to all nations of the globe. 212



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Tanaka’s On Buddhist Marriage was compiled from several lectures held in the 1880s, finding its final, polished form in 1894, which his followers presented ceremoniously to the Imperial palace in commemoration of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the marriage of Emperor Meiji and the Empress Consort. One of the main reasons Tanaka had broken with the Nichiren sect was his views on marriage and family, and he was probably the first in the Nichiren sect to call for clerical marriage. But Tanaka’s views on marriage were also part of his wider vision of Buddhist reform as centered not around the temples and clergy, but around laypeople, a living religion to be actively embraced out of faith by ordinary folk. In Tanaka’s vision for Buddhism, the household would play a key role. Tanaka believed that in this age of the latter days of the law (mappō 末法), the Buddhist world, consisting of temples and a clergy mainly concerned with funerals rather than people’s lives, had become dysfunctional, and that a vibrant Buddhism among laypeople was necessary. He devised a ceremony for conferring the Lotus Sūtra upon newborn children and a Buddhist wedding ceremony centered around the worship of the same scripture. As Richard Jaffe has observed, in 1887, around the time of his lectures that became On Buddhist Marriage, Tanaka performed one of the first indigenous Buddhist wedding ceremonies in Japan.2 Tanaka’s On Buddhist Marriage was more than a defense of marriage. It was intended as a reorientation of Buddhism away from the clergy and funerals, and toward laypeople and their lives, and correcting the image of Buddhism as unworldly, emphasizing its connectedness to life, society, and the modern state. It is important to recall that, roughly speaking, Buddhism was not traditionally opposed to laypeople marrying, but that the Buddhist path was mainly for monkhood, and thus necessarily involved “leaving the house” and forsaking marriage (although in Japan, priests of the Jōdo Shin sect had traditionally married, following its founder, Shinran). Hence, in this text, Tanaka went to great lengths to emphasize the naturalness of the unity of man and woman. In order to do so, he relies on a mix of metaphysical arguments, moving away from the centuries-old idea of Buddhism as a path of “leaving the world,” asserting marriage as an act in tune with ultimate Buddhist reality. Of particular interest is that, despite Tanaka’s criticism of the place of women in Confucianism, he makes use of references to Confucian thought, arguing that marriage and the family are the cornerstone of society and the root of morality.

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Therefore, in his own way, Tanaka also called for a reappraisal of women.3 He affirmed that women could become buddhas, a key element of the teaching of the Lotus Sūtra, and that older Buddhist notions of women as defiled should be seen as “expedient means” (hōben 方便), that is, teachings of a somewhat imperfect nature, but which had been necessary for their time and place. Hence, he presented his ideas as based on the true, in contrast to provisional, Buddhist teachings. Traditionally, Tanaka argued, Japanese women were held in high regard, but it was the import of Chinese culture and wrong Buddhist views that had led to denigration of women and a disregard for marriage. Concerned about the popularity of Christianity in Japan, Tanaka paid considerable attention to attacking Christianity as illogical and inferior when it came to the regard for women and marriage. It is worth noting that Tanaka’s Nichirenist organization, the Pillar of the Nation Society, had affiliated women’s branches. One of his disciples, Ishiwara Kanji 石原莞爾 (1889– 1949), founded the East-Asia League Movement (Tōa renmei undō 東 亜連盟運動), a pan-Asianist organization with a strong Nichirenist dimension, in which a great number of women were active.4 In the sections below, one can see that Tanaka seamlessly merges Buddhist dogma, Confucian logic, and modern scientific language to make his argument. In this text, many of the typical themes of what came to be known as “modern Buddhism” can be found: sectarian reform, a thisworldly and social orientation, the appeal to a wider lay public, critique of Christianity, the appeal to modern science fused with traditional beliefs, and an affirmation of the state. It also gives a taste of the peculiar lifeaffirming and energetic style of Tanaka and other Nichirenist thinkers.

Translation In this work I will explain, based on the true meaning of Buddhism, the righteousness of the ethical way of the married couple. By doing so, I will demonstrate the guiding principle of true Buddhism, by which I intend to clarify perfect social morality. The energy of religion (shūkyō 宗教) is more than powerful enough to set the world in motion and influence eternity. Upon it rests the rise and fall of order and chaos, the maintenance and loss of stability and crisis, and it should therefore be handled with the utmost care. Even though its teaching originally has nothing damaging in it, if one applies it while one is mistaken about its character and course of action, the



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damage inflicted upon the world is not small, so it should be considered deeply and approached with the utmost care. Śākyamuni (kyōso 教祖) established the teaching for the sake of the world; Nichiren (shūso 宗祖) spread the teaching for the sake of the country. We hear that [both] the Buddhist doctrine (kyōhō 教法) and sectarian teachings (shūshi 宗旨) are established for society and the nation. However, we have never heard it argued that society and the nation [exist] for the sake of the Buddhist doctrine and the sectarian teachings. Hence Nichiren said in his Establishing the True Dharma and Bringing Peace to the Realm (Risshō ankoku ron 立正安国論): “The country achieves prosperity through the dharma, and the validity of the dharma is proven by the people who embrace it. If the country is destroyed and the people are wiped out, then who will continue to pay reverence to the buddhas? Who will continue to have faith in the dharma? Therefore, one must first of all pray for the safety of the nation and then work to establish the Buddhadharma.”5 At the very least, if the Buddhist doctrine is established and taught for society and the nation, it must work in the direction of the path that provides the maximum power and energy for the nation, and demonstrate the teachings’ powerful application. In other words, it should be the first priority of Buddhist instruction to provide the right protection, support, and correct rules for the ethical way of the married couple, which is the most important element of human affairs and the wellspring of morality, and thereby construct the perfect society and nation. However, the teachings that Buddhism has hitherto spread in society have been the complete opposite of this. Therefore, when common people look at Buddhism, overall they have come to think that it is exclusively concerned with teaching that the world is evanescent and impermanent, with working to cut off attachments to this world, and that it has nothing to do with affairs such as marital ethics. People see Buddhists as having death and burials as their main profession, completely unconcerned with [life rituals such as] weddings; it is said that they focus on expounding lofty and difficult theories, and are not necessarily mindful of this-worldly human ethics. This is a phenomenon that the average Buddhist not only admits himself, but which he has also made others accept. [. . .] The fusion and separation of things is the fusion and separation of reason (dōri 道理). If reason (ri 理) matches, then things must match as

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well. The ultimate reason cannot be named or counted, but [realized or manifested] in things it becomes names and numbers. Large and small, good and evil, one and many: they all complement each other. The mind is, thus, the administrator of ultimate reason. From the largest of the large to the smallest of the small. There is good and ultimate good, evil and ultimate evil. The mind is nothing else than the world, and the world is nothing else than the mind. If the mind is defiled, the world is defiled, and if the mind is pure, then the world is pure. If the mind goes to the good, then the world will be good. If the mind runs to evil, then the world will be evil. With good and evil appearing, [the mind] creates the world’s image. [If] there is no matter in the world from the beginning, much less are there the functions of good and evil.6 The mind is not the substance of good and evil, but as it moves, it brings forth good and evil. The evil of good is the good of evil. For a house in the East, “West” is what is for a house in the West, “East.” The mind is originally neither good nor evil per se, but it generates the unmeasurable functions of good and evil. This is what is called the wonder of the mind (kokoro no myō 心の妙). It really becomes clear why the mind is a wonder when we see that the mind out of itself has to seek opposites. Here for the first time the one mind accepts the things of the world and meets the manifold things, and that wonder [the mind] weds these dharmas, thereby giving rise to a process that is one and inseparable. [. . .] The meeting between mind and world is the principle that gives rise to the great “dharma-realm.” Because there is heaven, there is earth. Because there is water, there is fire. Because there are mountains, there is the sea. Because there is wood, there is metal. Harmony, separation: by having this complete viewpoint, the appearance is formed, the two things become a set. Because there is wind, there is thunder. Because there is coolness, there is heat. Because there is stillness, there is movement. Because there is organic, there is inorganic. Opposition, mutual support: if this proceeds correctly, the natural functions are expressed. It is a single connection of two functions. In animals it is called male and female, among humans, it is man and woman. This, the law [or dharma] of male and female, the nature of man and woman, penetrates through the center of both heaven and earth (tengen chijiku 天元地軸),7 and determines the appearance of social structure. Therefore, were it impossible for male and female, man and woman, to fuse and use their respective qualities, would this not mean a dampening of the vitality of the dharma-realm



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and a corruption of the basic law of the universe? To, even to a small degree, realize the characteristic qualities of each different sex, is the natural development of society; in other words, it is the law of the natural way of things. The female especially comes about for the sake of the male, and in turn the male exists for the sake of the female. It is because of man that there is woman, and it is for woman that there is man. For man and woman to rely on each other and fuse their opposite natural qualities is the reason why man and woman are man and woman. That man and woman are man and woman is the reason why humans are human. That humans are human is the reason why the world is the world. That the world is the world is the reason why the dharma-realm is the dharma-realm. That the dharma-realm is the dharma-realm is the reason the wonderful dharma [of the Lotus Sūtra] is the wonderful dharma. The ultimate spirit of the universe, in other words, reaches its ultimate here: yes, in providing for each other in their reality as male and female, men and women, as “passive” and “active,” the different qualities appropriate to each sex. The relation between these two extremes is nothing less than this: it is the wonderful dharma of the substance of all things as it manifests in things and matter; is this in other words the incarnation8 of reason? The power of its evolving and moving upward is a never-ending flow. The more it develops, the more wonderful, the further, the newer. That which makes up this world always possesses the two ki 気 (Ch. qi) of male and female, the two sexes of man and woman. These are unique rights and natural duties. This is, in other words, what in the science of animal evolution is called sexual selection.9 Taking all this into account, we can see that the basis of society really is man and woman. The mysterious working of the dharmarealm exists, in other words, in the power to combine a husband and his wife. [. . .] Father and son, lord and vassal, etc.: The roots of all moral relationships sprout from that of the husband and his wife. It is the beginning and end of human morality; it is the basis of social interaction. If there is the dharma, there is the wonderful. If there is form, there is mind. If there is the cosmos, there are things. If, however, the difference in nature between man and women does not exist, then the Way is incomplete. Even if there are man and woman, but they are not combined into a conjugal couple, then the vigorous and vital, secret creative power of heaven cannot function, men and women cannot be properly ordered,

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the mind cannot be pacified, the self cannot be cultivated, and the ordering of the family, the ruling of the nation, and the pacification of the realm cannot occur.10 That is to say, society cannot be maintained. [. . .] In the forty-two years of preaching before presenting the Lotus Sūtra, not only did Śākyamuni exclude women in his exposition of the Way, but also the contents of his teachings denigrated them. Although he said they could be reborn in the Pure Land, they could not become buddhas. Even if [Śākyamuni] would have allowed this to a degree, he was teaching while adapting to that time and disseminated it for everyone to know [and understand], but that was not the final teaching. In other words, it was not spoken from the perspective of the complete teaching [but from that of the provisional teachings, adapted to their time and place], and even though this is the biggest drawback of the teachings at the time, in this unripe age, it was unavoidable. When Śākyamuni was seventy-three, forty-three years after first expounding the [provisional teachings of the] Way, one morning he fiercely overturned previous teachings, brought the provisional teachings to a close, and declared the true teachings [of the Lotus Sūtra], thereby sealing the superb fate of the completion of the establishment of the teachings. It was at this time that the teaching that women can become buddhas was revealed. Women, who for a long time had been discarded by both the Buddhist teachings and praxis, were reborn. Broken stones came together again. Withered seeds11 blossomed again. Śāriputra had his doubts, and Jñānākara Bodhisattva was suspicious. This was unprecedented: the attainment of Buddhahood by the dragon girl was not the attainment of Buddhahood by just one woman.12 It was the attainment of Buddhahood by all women in the ten directions and in past, present, and future times.

Notes This translation is based on the 1930 reprint of the text from 1894, with headnotes by Yamakawa Chiō 山川智応 (1879–1956). Cf. Tanaka Chigaku 田中智学, Bukkyō fūfu ron 仏教夫婦論, (Tokyo: Kokuchūkai Honbu, 1930). The translated passages are from pp. 1–4 and 58–67 of this edition. Several sections in this translation have appeared in chapter 8 of Richard Jaffe’s Neither Monk nor Layman, and I have retained these with some minor modifications.



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1.  For more background on these debates and the development of clerical marriage in Japan, see Richard M. Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman: Clerical Marriage in Modern Japanese Buddhism (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2001). Tanaka’s views on marriage are discussed in chapter 8. See also the contribution by Micah Auerback on Fukuda Gyōkai to this volume (part I, chapter 1). 2.  Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman, 169–172. 3.  For a new interpretation of the role of women in modern Japanese society from a different sect, see the chapter by Iwata Mami and Stephan Kigensan Licha on Shimaji Mokurai in this volume (part IV, chapter 3). 4.  See G. Clinton Godart, “Nichirenism, Utopianism, and Modernity: Rethinking Ishiwara Kanji’s East Asia League Movement,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 42, no. 2 (2015): 235–274. 5.  It is worth noting that the use of this passage from Nichiren’s text has caused much controversy, especially in the twentieth century. Scholars such as Sueki Fumihiko, Satō Hiroo, and others have argued that Nichiren meant this passage to argue for the primacy of Buddhism, but that the country and the people’s livelihoods must be safeguarded in order to allow people to practice Buddhism and worship the buddhas, while Tanaka and other modern Nichirenists have shifted its emphasis to argue for the primacy of the nation. See Sueki Fumihiko 末木文美士, Zōho Nichiren nyūmon: Gense o utsu shisō 増補日蓮 入門：現世を撃つ思想 (Tokyo: Chikuma gakugei bunko, 2010); Satō Hiroo, “Nichiren’s View of Nation and Religion,” Japanese Journal of Religious Studies 26, no. 3–4 (1999): 307–323; and Jaffe, Neither Monk nor Layman, 174–175. 6.  Yō 用 or “function” in Buddhist terminology is often used in contrast to tai 体, referring respectively to outward appearance or outer working, versus substance or inner working. 7.  In traditional Chinese cosmology, the cosmic origins of all things, the original ether. 8.  Tanaka uses the word keshin 化身, which means the “transformation body,” or nirmāṇakāya, which, together with the truth body and the reward body, is one of the three bodies of Buddha. 9.  Tanaka uses the biological term for sexual selection (although he does not explain it further). 10.  This system of correspondences is a reference to The Great Learning (Daxue 大学), a text that became one of the foundational classics in Confucian studies. 11.  “Withered seeds” (haishu 敗種) was a derogatory term directed at the followers of the Two Vehicles (the Śrāvaka and Pratyekabuddha), to say that they cannot achieve Buddhahood.

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12.  In the twelfth, or “Devadatta” chapter of the Lotus Sūtra, the Bodhi­ sattva Mañjuśrī relates how the daughter of the dragon king in the sea, only eight years old, had attained the supreme path. Jñānākara Bodhisattva expressed doubts that the girl could attain what took the Buddha ages to accomplish, upon which the girl appears before them. Śāriputra wonders how it is possible the girl could have attained the supreme path, since the body of a woman is filthy and not suitable for the dharma. He asks how quickly a woman can attain Buddhahood. The dragon girl then presents a pearl to Śākyamuni, who accepts it, and to the amazement of all, in an instant transforms into a man, perfects the conduct of the bodhisattva, goes south and takes the seat on a jeweled Lotus, displaying all the signs of a buddha.

chapter 5

The Problem of Faith (1904) Chikazumi Jōkan Translated by Garrett L. Washington

Translator’s Introduction After growing up in Shiga Prefecture, Chikazumi Jōkan 近角常観 (1870– 1941) studied and built his ministry in Tokyo, becoming one of the most prominent and popular Buddhist figures in Imperial Japan. Born to Chikazumi Jōzui 近角常随 (life dates unknown), priest of Saigenji 西源寺 in the Shinshū bastion of northeastern Shiga, Jōkan developed a deep knowledge of and faith in True Pure Land Buddhism.1 He then went on to study philosophy at Tokyo Imperial University in 1895, and initially sought to interpret Buddhist scripture through the lens of Western philosophical thought. For instance, he noted the congruity of Shinran’s 親鸞 magnum opus, the Kyōgyōshinshō 教行信証 (ca. 1224), with Hegel’s insights on phenomenology.2 By 1899, however, he had become convinced that only through the experience of a direct encounter with the Buddha could a person truly develop faith. Chikazumi remained actively involved in Buddhist organizations while he was a student, participating in the Shirakawa 白川 Reform movement of Kiyozawa Manshi 清沢満之 (1863–1903) and the Greater Japan Buddhist League (Dai Nippon bukkyōto dōmeikai 大日本仏教徒同盟会), among others.3 Eventually, however, Chikazumi’s anti-rational, faith-centered stance led him to abandon his graduate studies at Tokyo Imperial University. The passion and perspective that created problems for Chikazumi as a student drew him approving support from the headquarters of the True Pure Land sect. The Ōtani denomination sponsored Chikazumi on a two-year observational trip to Western Europe and the United States to examine the nature and place of religion there. He visited key 221

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religious sites and met with religious leaders, experts, and laypersons in cities across the Western world from Chicago to Canterbury to Wittenberg. As he made clear in his serial publications Seikyō jihō 政教時報 (Religion and politics news, 1899–1903) and Kyūdō 求道 (Seeking the Way, 1904–1922), he came to admire the respected position held by Christian institutions and the religion’s notable social influence. Upon his return to Japan in 1902, the sect continued to endorse his endeavors through its gift of a prime plot of land in the capital: the site in the Morikawa 森川 neighborhood of the former Hongō 本郷 Ward was a very short block from Tokyo Imperial University. There, Chikazumi established the Kyūdō Gakusha 求道学舎, a Buddhist dormitory that attracted dozens of young Japanese men as boarders from 1902. By 1904, male and female students from the nation’s premier institutions of higher education were flocking to the site in such large numbers that Chikazumi felt forced to envision a larger meeting hall. Completed next to the Kyūdō Gakusha in 1915 with funds raised by himself and a team of prominent Buddhist laymen, the Kyūdō Kaikan 求道会館 was a new, innovative form of religious gathering space. Its architect, the well-known Imperial University graduate Takeda Goichi 武田五一 (1872–1938), created a design that combined Westernstyle architecture with visible, highly recognizable Buddhist elements.4 The meeting hall and the dormitory served as the headquarters for Chikazumi’s national ministry until the 1930s. From within the dormitory and meeting hall, Chikazumi promoted a new, relatively modern vision of Buddhist faith. His brand of Buddhism combined the traditional Shin emphasis on salvation through the grace of Amida with novel elements that responded to the changing needs of modern religious seekers. Arguing against the prevalent trend of intellectualizing Buddhism, Chikazumi preached that the experience of encountering Buddha was of the utmost importance in developing faith and deliverance. To spread this relatively orthodox message, however, the innovative priest took the unorthodox step of appropriating Protestant Christian proselytization strategies. The Kyūdō Gakusha was largely inspired by similar urban sites, namely those of the Young Men’s Christian Association that he visited in the United States, and the Kyūdō Kaikan had much in common with Protestant church buildings.5 Mobilizing Christian strategies in these spaces, Chikazumi gave Sunday sermons each week and other lectures and promoted the formation of Buddhist study groups and youth organizations.6 Beyond these initiatives,



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Chikazumi invited lay Buddhist practitioners to share their religious experiences in his monthly publication. This endeavor to elevate the role of laypersons—part of a trend among reformers at the time—was a significant departure from traditional lay participation in Japanese Buddhism.7 It also paralleled contemporary efforts by Protestants in Japan and the United States. Among the most nontraditional elements within Chikazumi’s messages, however, was his emphasis on Buddhism’s relationship with and responsibility to society. Critics and proponents of Buddhism in Imperial Japan frequently characterized the religion as disconnected from the realities of everyday life. In an effort to alter this perception, Chikazumi proposed a Buddhism that encompassed social awareness and activism. In 1904, he published The Problem of Faith (Shinkō mondai 信仰 問題), a book in which he clearly explained the social perspective that ran throughout so many of his words and actions. In the translation from that book that follows, Chikazumi argued strongly that social issues were important for Buddhists and deserved their attention and activism. Despite the influence that Protestant Christian ideals and institutions evidently had on his thinking, Chikazumi championed Buddhism as the better religion for achieving social change. To accomplish this, he called on believers to apply the perspectives and truths of Buddhism in their secular lives. Furthermore, Chikazumi advocated institutions that could translate Buddhist ideals into action for the benefit of society. These social messages constituted part of a larger field of discourse on modern, experience-focused Buddhism that the charismatic Chikazumi wove for listeners and readers. In and beyond the capital, and among Japanese in the academic and business realms, Chikazumi achieved considerable popularity during the early twentieth century. The preeminent Marxist philosopher Miki Kiyoshi 三木清 (1897–1945) frequented Chikazumi’s Kyūdō Kaikan and maintained an interest in Shin Buddhism throughout his life. Also attending Chikazumi’s sermons and lectures was Tokyo’s First Higher School student Tanikawa Tetsuzō 谷川徹三 (1895–1989), who later became a leading philosopher as well. Likewise, future literary scholar and poet Mitsui Kōshi 三井甲之 (1883–1953) developed a deep friendship with Chikazumi as a student at Tokyo Imperial University. Even far afield of Tokyo, young people found the ideas of Chikazumi convincing. As a student at Sendai’s Second Higher School, the future pioneering psychoanalyst Kosawa Heisaku 古沢平作 (1897–1968) listened attentively

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to Chikazumi’s lectures.8 Down at the opposite end of Honshū, writer Kamura Isota 嘉村礒多 (1897–1933) became a follower of Chikazumi in Yamaguchi. Even those like Mitsui Corporation Banking Director Kirishima Shōichi 桐島像一 (1864–1937) who were further from their teens could find inspiration and guidance in the words of Chikazumi.9 His controversial role in Ōtani sect politics and the popularity of Kiyozawa Manshi have cast a shadow on Chikazumi Jōkan. Recently, however, a growing body of evidence demonstrates the significance of his social vision and religious philosophy on Japanese individuals like these in the Meiji, Taishō, and early Shōwa eras.

Translation Interpreting Social Problems from the Buddhist Perspective The recent trend of thought in the European scientific world tends to reduce all problems to the social perspective. At its most extreme, the argument is as follows: “Religion, morality, philosophy and the like have in fact been nothing more than superficial masks in the history of countless civilizations since time immemorial. Yet if we explore the content and inspect it, there is nothing other than the concrete economic history of life. Consequently, the several religions from ancient times were in origin a kind of social movement, and their founders are in the end no other than saviors offering relief from socioeconomic deficiencies.” Perhaps understanding religion only in society’s economic terms, as in this extreme and radical theory, might sound odd when we have in mind the situation in our country. However, rather than focusing only on this theory itself, instead it is important to study the modern European society that produced this and what that society demands of religion. Some religionists value ideals, ultimately forgetting the real world, reflecting only on their innermost thoughts, and these result in disdaining the outside world. In the end [they] arrive at the belief that such social problems are not something religion should concern itself with. By emphasizing only the social side, or else, by trying to interpret religion solely through its innermost aspect, one becomes unable to understand the true meaning of life and salvation. When looking at modern European society, alongside industrial development we also observe, on the other hand, the rise of inequality in terms of property and labor. Consequently, there are serious adverse effects in morals, in customs, and in education. This [inequality] is,



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therefore, an inherent aspect of contemporary society, and results in calls for social reform (kaizō 改造). In the eighteenth century, the third estate, that is to say, the ordinary commoners, expanded their rights, becoming the center of deep public debate [and] an influential part of [those discussions]. Arriving in the nineteenth century, the traditional third estate now instead came to constitute the middle-class society. Their numbers decreased and, under them, a fourth estate, that of the workers, was born. And then, [the middle class] allowed just enough benefits to the fourth estate so that they could make ends meet. Today social problems are truly coming to the fore, and thus on the stage of the twentieth century, their consideration has become all the more urgent. And still no definitive explanation has arisen. There are those who oppose the nation and the church by advocating social democracy (shakai minshu shugi 社会民主主義), and there are also those who, advocating state socialism (kokka shakai shugi 国家社会主義), oppose democracy. There is, further, a socialism that prioritizes religion. Protestantism (shinkyō shugi 新教主義) is conservative, and rather close to state socialism. Catholicism, with its belief that the state serves the church (kyōkoku shugi 教国主義), is incompatible with the nation and sharply rejects democracy. Although there are many interpretations like this, in the same way that a small amount of water cannot extinguish a great fire, the possibility of solving this issue remains a very difficult prospect. Rich persons excessively absorb more and more wealth, and consequently the prospect of having enough for the fourth class is increasingly distant. When we think about the future of social problems in Europe, it is still not easy to foretell their fate. According to those who understand Christianity, Jesus is ultimately the only savior of society. It is said that during his time, he freed the lower classes of social difficulties, saved them from economic peril, advocated the equality of humankind by opposing the tyranny of rights and status, established a kind of utopian scheme, and provided pleasure in the glory of heaven by offering solace from earthly difficulties. If this were to be fulfilled would it not provide, in a utopian but realistic manner, some sort of salvation? To say the least, when we think of the social conditions at that time, those with rights and status had indeed no compassion whatsoever for the poor lower classes, and the voice of deeply held resentment was in fact crying out from underneath tyranny and oppression. So, in his gospel, if nothing else the language of religious starvation was related to great economic poverty, and the language of spiritual life

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was clearly connected to the meaning of everyday life. To put it simply, this interpretation of the social problem is that the poor fight with the rich and the lowborn fight with those who have status. Looking toward the past, the use of war for the establishment of universal peace has been Christianity’s primary principle. Thus, from ancient church-state relations to the resolution of modern social problems in Europe, there has been no [occasion] when this method was not employed. On this point, I cannot help but strongly question: Is war really capable of bringing about peace? Does fighting really have the capacity of in the end creating a harmonious world? When we see that Europe has always dealt with [its] social problems through fighting, that this is their only means, we doubt its outcome. We have seen the fact that, in the eighteenth century, the outcome of the movement of the third estate against the first and second was etched in history with the blood of the French Revolution. We can thus predict Europe’s path of the future, and cannot help but feel great alarm for the sake of peace for humanity. According to those who understand Buddhism, the Buddha is ultimately the only savior of society. In that the ancient Indian class system, the so-called caste system, was very strict, it was a chronic disease that fossilized society and hindered action. Śākyamuni, it is said, himself the issue of royalty, threw away his status and wealth. After completing the path to Buddhahood, he preached the equality of the four castes, thereby abolishing the root of evil in society and forming an ideal community. Even though this interpretation again only focuses on the social aspect and does not penetrate the realm of religion, this social aspect is still, certainly, connected to the other realm of religion. Śākyamuni’s decision to enter the priesthood originally germinated from religious thoughts rooted in his spiritual agony, so that he did not intend to impose his social plan for the equality of the four castes by force. Instead, upon his spiritual reformation, he disregarded class distinctions and accepted all [in the same condition] as Buddhist disciples, who would practice in accordance with the rules of the spiritual community. Even though he was born as a prince, he threw this away for eternity, not looking back. And even without directly advocating equality of the four castes in society, because he aimed to promulgate spiritual reform to the world, it goes without saying that this reform has induced an effect in society. To put this simply, his means of solving the social problem is for the wealthy to throw away their wealth and hold hands with the poor, for those with status to live daily with the humble, ignoring



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status, to open the tall ramparts of caste within society, to mutually reconcile feelings, and to help one another without greed or regret to bring about a fully harmonious world. Such is the foundation of Buddhism, which has provided the sort of harmonious tone observed not only in Japanese church-state relations since ancient times, but also in the matter of national morality. All this is necessarily based [on this same principle]. And so we believe: from now on, standing on the stage of the twentieth century, if we hope to truly explain social problems and to realize a peaceful harmonious world, there can only be one single eternal way. He who curses people will be cursed by people, [and] he who approaches with the sword will face retaliation by the sword. We do not know a way that war can bring about peace. Buddhism’s ideals are relevant because they are noble in this way. But simply stated, the question is whether or not we use the ideal in order to realize actual institutions. Certainly, Eastern ancient ideals are slightly superior to those of the West, yet in terms of practice, we find ourselves constantly dumbfounded. If Buddhists apply their doctrines in the future and perfect their faith, they will never be inferior to Western religion. However, in terms of applying ideals to society, they appear immature. Although this may be the case because in Japan social conditions are still not as complicated as in the West, it is partly the result of putting too much emphasis on the ideal, while not considering the real world. If we hold this living faith and, in close contact with our tormented fellows, we contemplate the realization of these ideals in the world, measures for social reform will gradually materialize. In Buddhism, there is the ideal of the “Pure Land,” which is also called “Paradise” or “Buddha-realm.” Is this not truly the most perfect thing in terms of society? The most complete, peaceful, and liberating thing? As a reality, it therefore represents eternal truth. It is a land to where we who believe in the Buddha go and live together. Since this salvation is ultimate, it is the culmination of social activism. This [land] is planned by the Buddha’s compassionate heart, realized through his practices, and fulfilled by his willpower. We, believers in the Buddha, more than [being] full of peace of mind and gratitude, must come to implement traces of the “Pure Land” in this current world. For the extremely fervent believer, this is truly the main point of the Buddhist solution of social problems. If, motivated by this faith, we steadily dedicate [ourselves] to the way of actual institutions, then all sorts of social reform would be possible. In order to realize traces of the “Pure Land,”

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politicians should always practice pure politics. In order to realize traces of the “Pure Land,” businesspersons should do pure business. In [doing] this, not only will life and livelihood have true religious meaning, but the perfect society will eventually manifest itself. If based on this spirit we were to interpret all kinds of problems such as workers’ education, illness insurance, family assistance, and so on, we would certainly multiply our power exponentially.

Notes The author would like to thank Naomi Chiba for her assistance. This translation is based on Chikazumi Jōkan 近角常観, “Bukkyō no kenchi ni tachite shakai mondai o kaishaku su” 仏教の見地に立ちて社会問 題を解釈す, chapter 13 of Shinkō Mondai 信仰問題 (Tokyo: Bunmeidō, 1904), 139–145. 1.  On the life of Chikazumi, see Iwata Fumiaki 岩田文昭, Kindai bukkyō to seinen: Chikazumi Jōkan to sono jidai 近代仏教と青年：近角常観とその時 代 (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 2014). 2.  Jeff Schroeder, “Historical Blind Spots: The Overlooked Figure of Chikazumi Jōkan,” Religious Studies in Japan 3 (2016): 74. 3.  On Chikazumi’s relationship with Kiyozawa Manshi, see Ōmi Toshihiro 碧海寿広, Kindai bukkyō no naka no shinshū: Chikazumi Jōkan to kyūdōsha tachi 近代仏教のなかの真宗：近角常観と求道者たち (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2014), part 1, chapter 5. See also the chapter by Jeff Schroeder on Kiyozawa Manshi in this volume (part 1, chapter 4). 4.  On the development of the Kyūdō Kaikan, see Garrett Washington, “Fighting Brick with Brick: Chikazumi Jōkan and Buddhism’s Response to the Christian Spatial Menace in Japan,” Cross-Currents: East Asian History and Culture Review E-Journal 6 (March 2013): 95–120. 5.  Ibid. 6.  On Chikazumi’s proselytization strategies, see Ōmi, Kindai bukkyō no naka no shinshū, part 3, chapter 3. 7.  Jeff Schroeder, “After Kiyozawa: A Study of Shin Buddhist Modernization, 1890–1956,” PhD diss., Duke University, 2015, 276–277. 8.  See Iwata, Kindai bukkyō to seinen, chapter 12; and Iwata Fumiaki, “The Dawning of Japanese Psychoanalysis: Kosawa Heisaku’s Therapy and Faith,” in Religion and Psychotherapy in Modern Japan, ed. Christopher Harding, Iwata Fumiaki, and Yoshinaga Shin’ichi (New York: Routledge, 2015), 120–136. 9.  Schroeder, “Historical Blind Spots,” 68.

chapter 1

“A Plan to Protect the Dharma” (1874/1903) Ogurusu Kōchō Translated by Erik Schicketanz

Translator’s Introduction Ogurusu Kōchō 小栗栖香頂 (1831–1905) was the first known case of a Japanese Buddhist priest traveling to China when, after the Meiji Restoration, the travel ban the Tokugawa Shogunate had imposed for almost 250 years was lifted. He thus stands at the apex of a complex and often also antagonistic encounter between Japanese Buddhists and their fellow Buddhists across Asia. These encounters were transformative experiences, shaping modern Japanese Buddhism as well as Buddhisms elsewhere.1 Ogurusu was born on the fourth day of the eighth month of Tenpō 2 (1831) in the Ōita District of Bungo Province (present-day Ōita City, in Kyūshū). He was the oldest son of a Buddhist priest belonging to the Ōtani branch of the Jōdo Shin sect 浄土真宗. Ogurusu was from early on educated in Chinese poetry as well as Confucian texts, studying at the Kangien 咸宜園, a school famous for its education in Chinese learning (kangaku 漢学). He was well educated in Buddhist thought, too, mastering different doctrinal traditions and teachings at the seminary of the Ōtani branch, the Takakura gakuryō 高倉学寮.2 Following the Meiji Restoration, he was made director of his sect’s middle seminary (chūkyōin 中教院) in Nagasaki, where he came into contact with Chinese residents of the city, who assisted him in reading Chan 禅 (J. Zen) texts. Gradually, the idea formed in him to travel to China in order to investigate the state of Buddhism and to converse with

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eminent monks. In June 1873, shortly after the ratification of the SinoJapanese Amity Treaty (Nisshin shūkō jōki 日清修好条規), Ogurusu traveled to the Qing Empire, where he stayed until July of the following year. Chen Jidong has characterized this trip as an attempt to find a way out of the twin threat of an expanding Christianity and anti-Buddhist tendencies among Japanese intellectuals.3 Arriving in Shanghai, Ogurusu made his way north to Beijing, where he made the acquaintance of the Chinese monk Benran 本然, abbot of the temple Longquansi 竜泉 寺, and was given accommodation there for the duration of his stay. Ogurusu’s experiences and observations in China are described in great detail in two diaries he wrote during his stay—the Pekin kiji 北京紀事 and the Pekin kiyū 北京紀遊.4 His time in Beijing was formative for his further thinking. Perceiving Chinese Buddhism as in a state of decline, it was also during this time that the idea to create an alliance directed against Christianity between Japan, China, and India began to form in his mind.5 The volume On Protecting the Dharma in Beijing (Beijing hufalun 北京護法論), which includes the “Plan to Protect the Dharma” translated here, was written by Ogurusu between March and April 1874 and presented to Benran upon its completion.6 It was Ogurusu’s intention to encourage the reform of Chinese Buddhism in order to revive it out of the desolate state into which he believed it had fallen. The text also displays Ogurusu’s concerns over Western imperialism and Christian encroachment in Asia. The volume consists of detailed descriptions of the fourteen Buddhist sects found in Japan, an explanation of the Three Articles of Instruction (sanjō kyōsoku 三条教則) of the Japanese Ministry of Doctrine (Kyōbushō 教部省), and an introduction to the acting head of the Higashi Honganji, Gennyo 現如 (1852–1923). Ogurusu’s thirteen-point plan for the reform of Chinese Buddhism and an alliance between Japan, China, and India can be found at the very end of the book. There are currently two extant versions of the text: a manuscript dating to 1901 in possession of Ogurusu’s home temple Myōshōji 妙正寺 and a published version dating to 1903. The present translation is based on the 1903 text, while the manuscript seems to be a direct copy of the original 1874 text. A noteworthy difference between the two versions is the order in which the three countries are named, changing from “India, China, Japan” (Indo, Shina, Nihon 印度・支那・日本) in the 1901 manuscript to “Japan, China, India” in the 1903 version. Furthermore, the published version of 1903 puts more emphasis on the



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interdependent relationship between the three countries, employing language derived from pan-Asianist thought, as demonstrated in the invocations of “common race and stock” (dōshu dōzoku 同種同族).7 Ogurusu’s “A Plan to Protect the Dharma” can be regarded as a foundational text of modern Japanese Buddhism’s contacts with its Asian neighbors. It marks the end of the traditional relationship that was predicated on the subordinate position of Japanese Buddhism to Chinese Buddhism and reconceptualizes this relationship within a panAsian framework that called for cooperation among Asian nations against outside invasion. For the sake of all of Asia, Chinese Buddhism would have to be rescued out of its state of decline by reforming the Chinese sangha. While Ogurusu’s text propagates solidarity in the face of outside threat, it already hints at the complicated relationship between Japanese and Chinese Buddhists to come. Powerful figures such as Ōtani Kōzui 大谷光瑞 (1876–1948), the head of the Honganji branch 本願寺派 of the Jōdo shinshū, regarded Chinese Buddhism as a spent force that required direct Japanese intervention for its revival, thus introducing a much more aggressive element into the relationship. Anti-colonial solidarities could transform rather easily into ideological support for imperialism.8 Although Ogurusu also expressed support for Japan’s war effort against the Qing dynasty in the First Sino-Japanese War of 1894–1895, his vision even in the 1903 version maintains some egalitarian elements. His was a call to Chinese Buddhists to reform their own tradition, implying that he still deemed them capable of accomplishing this task themselves. For their part, Chinese Buddhists would resist direct missionary efforts by Japanese Buddhism, but at the same time looked closely at the modern transition of the religion in Japan. Ultimately, many of the suggestions first voiced by Ogurusu reappeared later in their own reform plans. The following translation uses Chinese pinyin transliteration to reflect the fact that Ogurusu wrote the text in Chinese for a Chinese audience. The 1903 version added reading aids (kunten 訓点) for a Japanese readership.

Translation In my humble opinion, the territories of the three nations of Japan, China, and India depend on each other. Upholding the dignity (timian 体面) of Asia, they are like the three legs of a tripod. If one country is

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hurt, the [other] two countries [also] become sick. The Buddhadharma [first] arose in India, was then transmitted to China, and [finally] entered Japan. If the monks of the three countries are of one mind and cooperate with each other, protect the dharma (hufa 護法), and protect their countries (huguo 護国), the dignity of Asia can be maintained. China and Japan are divided by a wide ocean, while India and China are separated by the Himalayas. Despite this, there is not the slightest difference in the countenance and hair [of their inhabitants] and they are obviously of the same race (zhongzu 種族). The mutually cordial relations [that exist between these countries] have emerged naturally (tianli zhi ziran 天理之自然). When Śākyamuni preached the Avataṃsaka Sūtra (Huayan jing 華厳経), he declared that there are three abodes of bodhisattvas in China—Mount Qingliang 清凉,9 Mount Emei 峨眉, and Mount Putuo 普陀—and three in Japan—Mount Senninki 仙人起 (also known as Hōrai and as Fuji), Mount Kongō, and the Cave of Adornments (Kudokushōgonkutsu 功徳荘厳窟). This is also stated in Qingliang’s 清凉 commentary on the Avataṃsaka Sūtra.10 Thus, there are no abodes of bodhisattvas in Europe or the United States (oumei 欧米) and they are only found in the three countries [of India, China, and Japan]. It goes without saying that [the fortunes of] these three countries rise and fall in unison with Buddhism ( fofa 仏法). In ancient times, Paramārtha, Kumārajīva, Dharmakṣema, Bodhi­ dharma, Śubhakarasiṃha, and Amoghavajra came from India to China, while Faxian 法顕, Xuanzang 玄奘, and Yijing 義浄 traveled to India from China. Daoxuan 道璿, Jianzhen 鑒真, Tanjing 曇静, and Yijing went from China to Japan. Dōshō 道照, Dōji 道慈, Saichō 最澄, Kūkai 空 海, Eisai 栄西, and Dōgen 道元 journeyed from Japan to China. Monks from the three countries11 traveled back and forth [between their lands] and single-mindedly dedicated themselves to protecting the dharma. That Buddhism flourished was certainly no coincidence. After this original period, contacts between the three countries ceased almost completely and there is no more coming and going or mutual assistance. [Then,] twenty years ago, Britain invaded India and took over its territories.12 The people [of India] also followed suit and abandoned Buddhism for Christianity. India was [thus] the first to sustain injury. In the tenth year of [Emperor] Xianfeng 咸豊 (1860), China made peace with Britain and France and allowed the construction of churches in coastal regions.13 It is not surprising that the poor have fallen for this strategy. With this, China has also been hurt. Seven years



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prior to that, Japan made treaties with the West that permitted the construction of churches, and many ignorant people gather at these. Thus, Japan, too, has been injured. If one country is hurt, the [other] two countries cannot escape being affected. Then, is it not even worse if all three countries are injured? As this has already occurred, how can any monk not be enraged and rise up? I therefore humbly suggest a plan to protect the dharma, consisting of thirteen propositions. I hope that in order to accept them and decide on a grand scheme for the protection of Buddhism, the esteemed monks at the large monasteries in China will vigorously debate their advantages and disadvantages, examine what is good and what is bad, select which ones to abandon and which to keep, and reach a compromise. If a grand strategy to protect the dharma is thus established, then my journey to China will certainly not have been in vain. One: The court should be petitioned to purge superfluous monks. Those who do not understand the Four Books14 and are not versed in Chan and Buddhist ritual ( fosi 仏事) ought to be defrocked and allowed to openly eat meat and take wives. Those who have illicit liaisons with boys and debauch with women should [likewise] be defrocked. Today, the protection of the dharma rests on vigorous study and practice, and not [merely] on whether someone has or has not received the precepts. Chinese monks frequently eat meat and marry, which is the same in the case of Lamaist monks. Such is the condition in the latter age (modai 末 代).15 Even if the patriarchs were to be reborn [today], there is nothing that could be done about this. The only thing to do is to curtail the monks’ indolence and make them put their efforts into proselytizing (bujiao 布教). Two: The capital should establish [the office of] head monk (sengzhang 僧長). Someone who has the qualities (qi 器) of being internally well versed in the Buddhist canon and externally in charge of refuting heretical views and manifesting the truth ( poxie xianzheng 破邪顕正) should be chosen for this position and be given the authority to dismiss and promote [monks]. Three: Vice head monks ( fusengzhang 副僧長) should be installed in the eighteen provinces. Those well versed in Abidharma, Yogācāra, Huayan 華厳 (J. Kegon), and Tiantai 天台 (J. Tendai) thought, as well as the Blue Cliff Record (Biyan lu 碧巌録) and the ancestral records (zulu 祖録) should be made vice head monks. They will have control over the monks in their province.

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Four: Each temple ought to choose its own abbot (sizhu 寺主). Those who are not versed in poetry (shiwen 詩文), who do not understand the sutras and treatises, and who cannot preach the dharma should not be allowed to become abbots. Today, large temples sell sutra recitation [rituals], while small temples often engage in agriculture. Coveting private gain, they rent out rooms to guests and engage in the buying and selling of temples. In regard to their erudition, [the monks at these temples] are completely vacuous. How can they even still be called monks? These people should be resolutely disposed of and in their stead, studied and diligently practicing monks ought to serve as abbots. Five: A monastic university (daxuelin 大学林) should be established in the capital. All things have defects (bi 弊). Yao and Shun voluntarily abdicated (shanrang 禅譲) in favor of meritorious heirs, while Tang 湯 and Wu 武 overthrew ( fangfa 放伐) unjust rulers.16 Who can find fault with this? Despite this, the world is rife with treason and usurpation. The patriarchs (zushi 祖師) did not rely on words and letters (buli wenzi 不立 文字).17 Who could find fault with this? Despite this, the world has succumbed to the vices of obstinacy and ignorance. It is truly deplorable that monks do not even know how to write their names or birthplaces. To mend this evil, there is nothing like teaching [the schools of] Jushe 倶舎 (J. Kusha) and Weishi 唯識 (J. Yuishiki). The difficulty to grasp them will be sufficient to infuse life even into the laziest bones. Anyone who has already penetrated these two works (ershu 二書) can understand the entirety of sutras and commentaries. From age seven, monks should start by studying the Confucian writings and become acquainted with poetry, at age twenty study Jushe and Weishi, and what is left after that is to study what one wishes, whether it is Huayan, Tiantai, Tantrism, or Chan. Six: Each province should establish an intermediary academy (zhongxuelin 中学林) and each county (xian 県) should establish an elementary academy. The intermediary academy in each province should guide and encourage the monks [of their area], while each county-level elementary academy should guide and encourage monks in the respective county. Thus, learning will advance steadily. The Lesser and Greater Vehicles, Buddhist and non-Buddhist scriptures,18 astronomy and geography, literacy and calculus, science and philosophy: all forms of knowledge pervading the world should be taught. Those excelling [in these studies] should enter the monastic university in the capital, where the best students in the realm would thus assemble. There would be no greater boon for the country. The best ones should [then] be made



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directors (zhengzhang 正長) or vice-directors ( fuzhang 副長), and dispersed throughout the provinces. In such a way things in the realm (tianxia 天下) would only become easier to manage. Seven: The three Ways (sandao 三道) should cooperate. Buddhism is brother to Confucianism and Daoism. Though they fight among themselves, they should also [work together to] defend against foreign aggression. These days, the Western teaching [of Christianity] (yangjiao 洋教) is flourishing, and this is simply not the time for internal conflict. If one lets Confucianism cover the external, and Daoism and Buddhism govern the internal, then foreign heterodoxies (waixie 外邪) will not intrude. If Confucianism and Daoism reject each other and there is discord between young and old [among them], it will be unavoidable that a third party [such as Christianity] will be the one to benefit. Eight: The three countries should unite in spirit (tongxin 同心). Japan, China, and India intimately help and depend on each other and have always been [like] compatriots and brothers, relatives and in-laws. They ought to be in mutual contact and in friendly competition, striving constantly to improve. They should spur each other on to study hard and encourage each other to engage in vigorous [Buddhist] practice. They should rescue each other in calamity and aid each other in good and bad times. Through these means, the vital force (zhengqi 正気) of Buddhism will flourish and prosper, reaching high into the sky. Nine: A biography of eminent monks (gaoseng zhuan 高僧伝) should be compiled. When Confucius composed the Spring and Autumn Annals (Chunqiu 春秋), disloyal officials and unfilial sons trembled with fear. When Nanshan Daoxuan 南山道宣 (596–667) wrote the Continued Biographies of Eminent Monks (Xu Gaoseng zhuan 続高僧伝), humans and deities rose up in excitement. That Daoxuan [even] recorded [the biography] of [Wei] Yuansong 衛元嵩 can be said to have been a splendid achievement. Who does not gnash their teeth at the traitorous monk Yuansong’s destruction of the Buddhadharma?19 What Daoxuan exposes has made licentious monks in later times tremble in fear. One should select educated monks and write an accurate volume [about them], promoting what is good and chastising what is evil. Ten: The salvation of sentient beings should be preached. The fifty years that the Buddha preached constitute a complete teaching (yidaijiao 一代教). From perfectly enlightened (dengjue 等覚) beings at the top to humans, deities, ghosts, and beasts below, there is nothing that is not transformed (hua 化) by these teachings. [However,] monks today use the idea

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of not relying on scriptures to cover up their ignorance. They not only fail to proselytize the chief donors (tanyue 檀越), they also cannot guide their [own] disciples. From the emperor on high to coarse men and women below, everyone will certainly become believers in the Buddha. Eleven: An investigation of the people of the realm should be conducted. All people of the realm seek refuge in either the Buddha, the Dao, or Confucianism. The adherents of the Three Ways should investigate the realm. In this way, it will be apparent who is following a heterodoxy (waidao 外道), and by carefully and diligently guiding them, they can be once again turned into good people (liangmin 良民). Twelve: We should explore the world. The nations of Europe and America are our friends. Why do you keep apart from them? That Buddhist monks do not resist the Christians (yangtu 洋徒) is due to the fact that sea voyages and expeditions (yuanzheng 遠征) are not carried out. If one selects courageous and brilliant gentlemen and dispatches them abroad to observe the actual conditions and explore the true nature [of these places], then we can judge for ourselves what is true and false, good and bad, orthodox and heterodox, and what is right and wrong. Thus, what is good can be adopted while what is bad can be discarded, ultimately amending what is lacking in oneself. Thirteen: Buddhist temples should be built on the five continents. The halls of Jesus and God pervade the five continents. [In contrast,] that Buddhist temples only exist in Asia is due to the laziness and feebleness of Buddhist monks. The Westerners are human beings just like us. How can it be that it is impossible to do what others have [already] accomplished? To travel in foreign countries, familiarize oneself with their languages, translate the teachings of our Buddha using their script, build temples and preach—how can this not save human beings? I have poured my spirit and blood into all of the thirteen items above. I humbly ask you to consider which [of my proposals] to employ and which to leave out, consult with the eminent monks at the great monasteries to decide on a grand scheme to establish an alliance between the three countries, promote the [Buddhist] teachings, and protect the dharma. If the eminent monks at the great monasteries of China were to be so kind as to accept my humble proposition, then the sangha in Japan will also rise in determination and engage in this endeavor. Further, if the time [for such a plan] is not yet opportune, then this is due to the Will of Heaven (tian ye ming ye 天也命也), and the only thing left for me to do is to lament and weep bitterly.



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Notes This translation is based on “Huface 護法策,” included in Ogurusu Kōchō 小栗栖香頂, Beijing hufalun (Hetsugi-mura [Ōita-ken]: Ogurusu Kōchō, 1903), 50–53. 1.  Fujii Takeshi provides a good overview of the international contacts of Japanese Buddhism before World War II. See Fujii Takeshi 藤井健志, “Bukkyōsha no kaigai shinshutsu” 仏教者の海外進出, in Kindai kokka to bukkyō 近代国家と仏教, ed. Sueki Fumihiko 末木文美士 et al., vol. 14 of Shin Ajia bukkyō shi 新アジア仏教史 (Tokyo: Kōsei shuppansha, 2011), 110–153. 2.  For information on Ogurusu’s biography, see chapter 1 in Chen Jidong 陳継東, Ogurusu Kōchō no shinmatsu Chūgoku taiken: Kindai Nitchū bukkyō kōryū no kaitan 小栗栖香頂の清末中国体験: 近代日中仏教交流の開端 (Tokyo: Sankibō Busshorin, 2016), and the “Ogurusu Kōchō” 小栗栖香頂 chapter in Tsunemitsu Kōnen 常光浩然, Meiji no bukkyōsha 明治の仏教者, vol. 1 (Tokyo: Shunjūsha, 1968), 23–32. 3.  Chen, Ogurusu, 11. 4.  The Pekin kiyū was eventually published by Ogaeri Yoshio in 1957, and the Pekin kiji has been reproduced and translated into contemporary Japanese by Chen Jidong. See Ogaeri Yoshio 魚返善雄, “Dōchi matsunen ryūen nikki” 同治末年留燕日記, Tōkyō joshi daigaku ronshū 東京女子大学論 集 8, no. 1–2 (1957–1958); and Chen, Ogurusu. 5.  For a critical analysis of Japanese perceptions of Chinese Buddhism as in decline, see chapter 1 of my Daraku to fukkō no kindai Chūgoku bukkyō: Nihon bukkyō to no kaikō to sono rekishizō no kōchiku 堕落と復興の近代中国仏 教：日本仏教との邂逅とその歴史像の構築 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2016). 6.  Chen, Ogurusu, 212. 7.  For a detailed discussion of the Beijing hufalun, its background, and its two versions, see Chen, Ogurusu, 212–240. 8.  See for example, Richard M. Jaffe, “Seeking Śākyamuni: Travel and the Reconstruction of Japanese Buddhism,” The Journal of Japanese Studies 30, no. 1 (2004): 68. 9.  Another name used for Mount Wutai 五台山, said to be the abode of the bodhisattva Mañjuśrī. 10.  The Huayan Qingliang shu 華厳清凉疏 or Huayanjing shu 華厳経疏 is a famous commentary on the Avataṃsaka Sūtra written by the Tang dynasty monk Chengguan 澄観 (738–839), also known as Qingliang guoshi 清凉国師. 11.  Premodern Japanese Buddhism frequently employed this threenation model in its discussion of the transmission of the dharma, tracing

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Buddhism from its beginning in India through its developments in China to its ultimate spread to Japan. An early prominent example of this genre is the Sangoku buppō denzū engi 三国仏法伝通縁起 written in 1311 by the monk Gyōnen 凝然. The role of Korea in this historical process was generally ignored. This three-nation model also provided the basic framework for Meiji-era discussions of Buddhist history. 12.  Ogurusu seems to refer here to the Indian rebellion (Sepoy Mutiny) of 1857. The fact that he seems to date the expansion of the British Empire to the Indian subcontinent to this year also shows the limits of his knowledge of world affairs. 13.  This sentence refers to the Convention of Beijing (October 1860), which reaffirmed religious rights of European Christians in China stipulated two years earlier in the Treaty of Tianjin (June 1858). 14.  The Four Books (Sishu 四書) are the Great Learning, the Analects, the Doctrine of the Mean, and Mencius. 15.  A reference to mofa 末法 (J. mappō), the degenerate latter age of the law. 16.  King Tang of the Shang dynasty is said to have overthrown Jie, the last ruler of the Xia dynasty. King Wu, the first ruler of the Zhou dynasty, defeated Xin, the last ruler of the Shang dynasty. 17.  This refers to the Chan school’s sense that they did not need to rely on doctrinal teachings, but had a direct connection to the mind of the Buddha. 18.  In the Chinese context, non-Buddhist scriptures generally refer to Confucian and Daoist texts. 19.  Yuansong was a monk of the Northern Zhou dynasty (556–581) who disrobed and exhorted Emperor Wu to abolish Buddhism.

chapter 2

“A Record of Niuzhuang” (1895) Yamagata Genjō Translated by Micah Auerback

Translator’s Introduction By the end of August 1894, a scant month after Japan formally declared war on Qing China, the first Japanese Buddhist clerics had already departed for the battlefield to serve as military chaplains. By the time that a peace treaty was signed to end the war in May 1895, at least fiftyfive Japanese Buddhist military chaplains had served in what we now call the First Sino-Japanese War.1 From then until 1945, Buddhist chaplains continued to serve the Japanese military, though not within an official chaplaincy corps. (Even today, Buddhist chaplains still serve in the Japanese prison system.) Particularly within the Anglophone world over the past few decades, reports of this history of Buddhist involvement with the Japanese military have stimulated responses ranging from simple perplexity to outright denunciation. But to dismiss these military chaplains—as mere imperialists, unreflective opportunists, or false Buddhists—is also to disavow the role of chaplaincy in a novel institution of the nation-state, the conscript army, as an integral part of the modernization of Buddhism in Japan. Readers of English who intend to draw their own conclusions will find hardly any primary sources in translation.2 Although brief, the following translation from an account of service in the First Sino-Japanese War by one such chaplain suffices to suggest a mixture of motives in chaplaincy work: nationalism, to be sure, but also Buddhist piety, and an aspiration (however fractured and unsteady) to make common cause with Buddhist counterparts in continental Asia. In

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these senses, the author, Yamagata Genjō 山県玄浄 (1866–1903), was in fact fairly representative of Meiji Buddhist intellectuals who traveled to the Asian continent during the first decades of the new era. Genjō was also a vigorous scholar and educator within the Shingon denomination of Japanese Buddhism, with a special interest in the esoteric tradition of the Sanskrit letter as an object of explication and meditation. Both during and after the war, Genjō published a number of books and articles concerning chaplaincy, including sermons and exhortations directed to soldiers, as well as his own thoughts and diary excerpts. Genjō’s published 1895 collection of writings, The Iron Scepter (Tetsu nyoi 鉄如意), includes an account of his own time on the battlefield, recorded in diary form. The excerpts translated below occur about onethird of the way through the second (diary) volume of The Iron Scepter; starting in mid-March, these entries begin soon after the last continental battles of the war, which had been fought in and around Yingkou 営口 (Niuzhuang 牛荘), one of the treaty ports opened after the end of the Second Opium War in 1858. The diary reveals Genjō to have been anything but “embedded” in his military unit, with restricted contact with the peoples of Korea and China. Instead, it shows that he traveled widely and recorded his observations of conditions and people as he found them. His diary chronicles, among other things, his observation of a shamanic ritual at a funeral in the Korean port of Inch’ǒn 仁川, a “brush talk” that he conducted with a Korean monk in classical Chinese, and his attendance at a theatrical performance in Lüshun 旅順 (present-day Dalian 大連). Near the end, it transcribes dozens of classical Chinese poems that he exchanged with Korean gentlemen as he waited for a ship home. The excerpts translated here were chosen to offer readers a sense of the scope of activities in which Genjō engaged as a military chaplain. We find him conducting funeral rites alongside Japanese clergy from other Buddhist denominations—rites not only for Japanese soldiers, but also for their Chinese counterparts, and rites held in conjunction with Chinese Buddhist monks. We find interest in the possibility that the Chinese people might become amenable to Japanese control over what Genjō thought would be “new Japanese territory.” (As he wrote in March 1895, Genjō could not have known of the “Triple Intervention” to which the Japanese government would capitulate in May, compelling the withdrawal of all Japanese forces from the Liaodong Peninsula.) We find Genjō’s records of his visits with local religious leaders in



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Niuzhuang—not only the Chinese abbot of a local Buddhist monastery, but also a French Catholic missionary at the church that had been only recently built. Genjō’s account treats the missionary as a rival who must be resisted, and the abbot as a weak, potentially tractable ally in desperate need of support. The present translation reproduces some characteristic features of Meiji-era Japanese prose. Like the Victorian publications upon which they were modeled, Japanese publications of the late nineteenth century were not sparing in their use of extralinguistic devices for emphasis. All passages emphasized in the original text are reproduced in this translation in italics. The original text has relatively few paragraph divisions, so most of the paragraph breaks in this translation were supplied by the translator. Genjō’s writing sometimes attempts to reproduce the sounds of spoken Chinese or Korean by using character glosses in the kana script. These phonetic transcriptions are reproduced in this translation, along with the standard transcription into the Latin alphabet and an English gloss.

Translation First: “We proceed via the fortress at Gangwa 缸瓦.” From the Headquarters of the Third Division, at the fortress of Gangwa on March 17 [1895], to the Headquarters of the Fifth Division at Haicheng 海城, came a telegram to the effect that the chaplains attached to the Third Division would arrive at Niuzhuang the following day, that they would conduct a memorial dharma assembly for the war dead, and that they would like the chaplains ( jūgun fukyōshi 従軍布教師) attached to the Fifth Division to be informed of this matter.3 Accordingly, it was resolved that we would send three from our group of five, and having drawn lots, Messrs. Itō Dainin 伊藤大忍 and Dōgetsu 洞月 of the True Pure Land denomination were excluded, so [representatives of] the three denominations, Tendai, Shingon, and Rinzai Zen were selected. Accordingly, we three packed our bags early on the morning of the 18th, arrived at the fortress of Gangwa, and spent the night. The fortress of Gangwa is a large settlement, looking out onto wideopen plains. In the previous month, this had been the site of a fierce battle fought by the Third Division, and it was a place in which many of our loyal and brave soldiers had been killed or maimed. The division commander, His Excellency Lieutenant-General Katsura [Tarō], was resident in the home compound of the Yang 楊 clan, a

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wealthy family in this village.4 We heard that the lord of the Yang clan was a general in the enemy army and was at present in Liaoyang 遼陽, but the family members of the clan opposed the violence and despoliation of the Qing troops, and they felt such gratitude for the order and discipline of our magnificent forces that they said they would dispatch a secret messenger to recall their lord and have him submit to Japan. Under the direction of Lieutenant-General Katsura, the eldest son of the Yang clan daily and with joy helped remove boots, serve tea, and run errands. Also, because the Yang family expounded the righteousness of the magnificent Japanese forces to the villagers who had fled into hiding, the villagers also felt that they had met a Buddha in hell, [as it were,] and in groups of two or three, returnees to the village filled the roads, their women riding in oxcarts, their belongings on their backs. On the 19th, we were joined by an escort of three soldiers from headquarters, and provided with a single oxcart by the Third Division. At once we boarded, and around eleven o’clock in the morning, we arrived at Niuzhuang, and met with the six chaplains attached to the Third Division. We decided to hold a memorial dharma meeting at two o’clock in the afternoon that day for the dead from our forces, and to perform a transfer of merit (ekō 回向) for the enemy dead from four o’clock.5 Second: “The memorial dharma meeting.” In a spot at the north of Niuzhuang was a beautiful monastery, called the Haihuisi 海会寺. Six or seven monks resided there, and this was selected as the site of our service that day. Beginning at two o’clock in the afternoon, eleven chaplains from various denominations assembled at this monastery. Before its main hall, we installed a memorial tablet (ihai 位牌), which read, “The Heroic Spirits Who Have Fallen in the Service of the Great Empire of Japan,” and we offered incense, flowers, and lamps. Before the tablet, we eleven lined up and recited Buddhist sutras. This day, incense was offered first by Major Ohara 小原, Second Battalion Commander of the Nineteenth Regiment Garrison of Niuzhuang, and by Major Kawano Michinari 川野通成 of the Engineering Corps at camp headquarters, and then by several hundred soldiers. It was a terrifically successful service. On this day, the eulogy offered by the alliance of chaplains of the First Army was as follows. (It was written by Mr. Kagawa 香川.) [. . .] Next, we presented our eulogy before the spirits, as follows.6 [An address given] on 19 March of Meiji 28 (1895), [by] Yamagata Genjō, a chaplain of the Shingon denomination attached to the



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Fifth Division of the First Army. Herewith, we begin our memorial rite with deep reverence, and by chanting the sutras of the Buddha (Budda no kyō 仏陀の経), we shall console the heroic spirits of you who honorably died in battle in Niuzhuang. Ah, you have offered your lives beneath the flag of your regiment, but your names shine all over the earth. What bravery and heroism! Niuzhuang is the choke point for the city of Fengtian 奉天 and a strategic point for the fortress of Beijing 北京. Once this key point fell, the fortune of our enemy would run out. Thus they selected tens of thousands of crack soldiers and defended this pass to the death. Our great forces attacked it from dawn until late at night. It may be called the fiercest battle since P’yǒngyang 平壌.7 The blue sky turned black from the ascent of the cannon smoke; the white snow turned red from the flow of fresh blood. Standing within this [carnage], our forces regarded advancing to their deaths as honor and retreat to live as shame; struggling like tigers and battling like lions, you repaid your vast debt to our Imperial Land. Those we memorialize thus here are truly virtuous martyrs to our land in this battle. We praise your loyal exploits, and in vain do we choke back our tears at your solemn deaths. By the merit of our sutra recitation, may your military caps be transformed into the bejeweled crowns of the five types of wisdom, and your military uniforms change into the wondrous aspect of the fourfold mandala. You shall ascend the Terrace of Esoteric Grandeur and the Lotus Realm [of the Buddha Mahāvairocana], and you shall attain the wondrous bliss of bodhi and nirvana.8 May this benefit all beings in the universe.9 After four o’clock in the afternoon, we arrived at the cemetery in the east of Niuzhuang. We performed a transfer of merit for the corpses of over one thousand enemy soldiers. Within and outside the walls of Niuzhuang, corpses lay piled up. The crows cried “caw-caw” and pecked at their flesh; thunderously, dogs exposed their fangs and gnawed at the bodies. As far as the eye could see, it was a horrible scene of battle by the Asuras—no, it was the realm of the hungry ghosts.10 To this one place in which Commander Kawano had concentrated the bodies, and where within two or three days they would be committed to the flames, we chaplains had fortunately flown, and we performed a transfer of merit upon the bodies of the enemy soldiers, not distinguishing between

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friend and foe. On this day, Master Sakagami Sōsen 坂上宗詮 (b. 1830) of the Rinzai Zen denomination chanted a gāthā and administered the indō [ritual for leading the dead to awakening].11 When the human body disintegrates, where does it alight? Cease your inquiry into right and wrong, your disputes of self and other. The ice and snow are melting, and the sun is gradually warming [the earth]. Birds chirp, spring breezes [blow], and fish leap in the depths. How is it, this realm of Nirvana? It vanishes immediately into the raging fire. Katsu 喝!12 On that day, several hundred of the people of Niuzhuang came to pray and offer incense. Eight Chinese monks from the Haihuisi attended, and they recited the Dhāraṇī of Great Compassion.13 But they blew on their mouth organs and flutes, banged their cymbals, beat their gongs, whacked their wooden fish, and raised a ruckus no different from that at the theater, which had the contrary effect of merely ruining our solemn Buddhist ritual. When the event had ended, Master Mizuno Dōshū 水野道秀 made a simple address as the representative of our group, speaking of the righteousness of our forces, and urging the common folk to have allegiance to us. The people of Niuzhuang appeared to be extremely moved by this, our offering (kuyō 供養) to the enemy soldiers. When we passed through the streets, there were constantly people doffing their hats, kowtowing, and calling us “Iben hōshan” [Ch. Riben heshang 日本和尚; “Japanese monks,” in Genjō’s phonetic transcription]. [. . .] Fourth: “A Visit to the French Missionary, Mr. [Frédéric] Flandin.”14 Over the west side of Niuzhuang towers a European-style building; this object, its loftiness extending to the heavens, is a church built twenty years ago by French Catholic Christians (Furansu Yaso kyūkyō 仏蘭西耶蘇旧教). I visited this church on the morning of March 20. The interior was so expansive that it could hold several hundred people. The seats on the right side were reserved for men, on the left for women. I arrived right in the midst of their hymns. High at the front was enshrined an image of Christ. Before it was placed a high table, its adornment most elegant. On the walls on each side were hung dozens of frames in which were painted the deeds of the life of Christ. Mr. Flandin was wearing his



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clerical garb, kneeling and singing his hymns. About fifty or sixty believers from Niuzhuang, male and female, were harmonizing, singing the hymns most surpassingly. As I am ordinarily of a most sensitive nature, as soon as I heard the hymns, I both felt shock at the enthusiasm of these adherents to a foreign religion, and at the same time gave out a long sigh for the deep complacency of our Buddhists. Typically in China, it is highly taboo for women to leave the home. But the missionaries have transformed Chinese customs, and they have come to assemble women for worship in the church, and to have them hear sermons. How have they established this moral influence? The Buddhists of China always keep the gates to their monasteries shut, so that unless one knocks and visits, they dare not open them. Thus, only few people visit the monasteries. They have misunderstood the main purport of standing aloof from the [secular] world, and violate the primary aspiration of saving sentient beings. The first things that Japanese Buddhist [clergy] ought to do to improve Chinese Buddhism are to open the gates of the monasteries, to gather many people, and to preach to them; most of all, we should make the greatest effort at preaching to women. That foreign religion is already one step ahead of us. How could the Buddhists of the empire not rub their eyes to life and see clearly the situation in East Asia? Looking up and down, while I was feeling deeply moved, the hymns had ended, and I went to the missionary’s quarters, presented my calling card, and had a chat. When I asked about believers in Niuzhuang, he said that there are more than six hundred. I’ve heard that Mr. Flandin came to Niuzhuang two years earlier, and that at the time he was thirty-five. He understands some Chinese. Even though he is inexperienced in Chinese, and I too am the same; we two inexperienced people came together and spoke in Chinese, and the fact that we both used Chinese people as translators made it all the more hilarious. I heard that even this missionary was robbed of his horse cart and over one hundred yuan by Chinese soldiers. Our forces took pity on him, and supplied him with a horse cart and a soldier escort, so his joy was without limit.15 Fourth [sic]: “Commerce in Niuzhuang.” [. . .] Whenever I would meet with a Chinaman, I would say, “You lot are new Japanese,” “This territory is new Japan,” and “You should cut off your queue.” Then he would reply, “Rinmin” [Ch. lingming 領命; “yes, sir,” in Genjō’s phonetic transcription]. On my way from Niuzhuang back to Haicheng, I met a Chinaman who doffed his hat and showed me his head, saying, “Chin kan” [Ch. qing kan 請看; “please take a look,” in Genjō’s phonetic transcription]. He had removed his pigtail, and his head now resembled a Japanese one. Is this not the

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height of happiness? At any rate, it seemed that the area of Niuzhuang submitted the most fully to Japan. Fifth: “A dialogue with a Chinese monk.” In Niuzhuang are seven or eight Buddhist monasteries, among which the Haihuisi is preeminent. Its structure is grand, and its colors are beautiful. In Niuzhuang, there are [really] only two buildings that suffice to surprise the eye, the French Catholic church and the Haihuisi. As for the rest, there is nothing worth looking at. On March 20, I visited the Haihuisi. [. . .] When I used my iron scepter to rap on the gate, a monk came, and asked “Soi ya?” [Ch. shei ya 誰呀; “who is it?” in Genjō’s phonetic transcription].16 I replied that I was a Japanese monk. Then he opened the door and I entered, first going to the main hall. [. . .] At the front was hung a plaque with the text “Blessings benefit the entire land.” The ornamentation of the interior of the hall was of the greatest beauty; its main image was of the Tathāgata Śākyamuni, attended by Samantabhadra, Mañjuśrī, Ānanda, and Kāśyapa.17 Next was the Zhenyan 真言 (J. Shingon) Lineage main hall. [. . .] When I offered ten silver coins, the head monk Xiuqi 修起 banged a gong and lit a lamp, and prayed for merit on my behalf. Doubtlessly, I shall obtain limitless blessings and long life.18 Next we left the main hall, behind which was a large hall for worshippers. At its base was enshrined a sculpture of a river deity, this being something like what in Japan we call a kappa [a water sprite].19 Next, we ascended the pavilion, at whose center was enshrined an image of the bodhisattva King of Birds [Garuda], in front of which were enshrined an image of the Sacred Mother Consort of Heaven [Mazu], boys and girls, yakṣa [nature] deities of the ocean, dragon gods, and so forth. Having completed my prayers in the various halls, I arrived at the monks’ quarters, located to the right side of the main hall. At the entrance to the quarters was enshrined another devotional Buddhist image. The resident monks offered me a chair and put on some tea, and were assiduous in their welcome. I then sat facing the head monk Xiuqi, and we had a brush conversation. The original text was in Chinese, but [here] I interpret it in Japanese and introduce it. The questioner is [myself,] Yamagata Genjō, and the respondent is Xiuqi of the Haihuisi. [. . .] Question: Because of the insolence of China, we are now in a great war.20 The cannon smoke, the rain of bullets, the mountains of swords and trees with blades for leaves [of the hells]: None of this fails to be the future cause for [rebirth



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in the realm of ] the Asuras.21 I look upon this with my merciful eyes, and my tears fall like rivulets of rain. Response: We too, have chanted the name of the Buddha and read scriptures for three days and nights. We have mourned the sacred spirits of the dead in both armies. Truly, it is nothing but a disaster. Question: A Christian missionary from the land of France, named Flandin, has come to this area, constantly propagating heresy (itan 異端), misleading the good people here; why do you monks merely sit and watch? Response: The common folk here do not believe in Catholicism; they are wholeheartedly good people, who take refuge in the Buddha and the True Dharma. Question: But today I visited the missionary, who said that he has six hundred believers. Is this a lie, or the truth? Response: That “six-hundred-odd people” means only greedy, rebellious natives. It’s not that they truly believe in Catholicism.22 Question: I am the resident priest of the Kōmyōin 光明院 on Mt. Kōya 高野山 in the land of Great Japan. Mt. Kōya is like Mt. Tiantai 天 台 in China.23 The mountain is tall and its water pure. It has several hundred monasteries and thousands of monks, and the study of Buddhism there is highly flourishing. I am about to return to Japan this summer. I would like to take one or two of your monks with me. Response: We monks admire the land of Japan. I ask that we may follow your lead to ascend Mt. Kōya. The above conversation ended. The head monk Xiuqi pulled out four “bird-and-flower” paintings, and gave them to me, so I took them and left. On the 21st, we set off from the fortress of Niuzhuang, and ate lunch in Sitaizi 四台子. We passed a few hours in pleasant conversation with Mr. Nakajima Yoshihiro 中島良寛, a Major of the Army Cavalry, Junior Sixth Rank, Fifth Class, at the camp headquarters, and then we left Sitaizi and returned to Haicheng. On account of the melting snow on this day, the roads had turned into rivers, and there was nowhere for us to plant our feet. We had no choice but to pass through some fields, so the muck covered our shins, stole away our boots, and befouled our clothing. This was a terrible difficulty in our recent travels.

Notes This translation is based on Yamagata Genjō, Tetsu nyoi, vol. 2 (Kōyamura: Maeda Kyūgorō, 1895), 85–97.

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1.  A number of different Japanese terms were used to describe the activities of these Buddhist clerics, but their functions were all roughly similar. For the estimate that fifty-five Japanese Buddhist military chaplains participated in the First Sino-Japanese War, see Mizumoto Hironori 水本浩典 and Kindai Jūgun Nikki Kenkyūkai 近代従軍日記研究会, “Nisshin sensō jūgunsō no nikki o yomu” 日清戦争従軍僧の日記を読む, Ningen bunka 人 間文化 28 (November 2010): 31. 2.  To be sure, a few loosely relevant translations are available in publications of the period. See, for instance, Reizui Hino [i.e., Hino Reizui 日野霊 瑞 (1818–1896)], “A Buddhist Tract for Soldiers, By Reizui Hino, Chiefpriest of the Jodo Sect,” The Japan Evangelist (October 1895): 25–27. 3.  Concerning the battles leading to the the Japanese occupation of Niuzhuang early in March 1895, see Trumbull White, The War in the East: Japan, China, and Corea. A Complete History of the War with a Preliminary Account of the Customs, Habits, and History of the Three Peoples Involved (Philadelphia: J. H. Moore Co., 1895), 643–650. 4.  Katsura Tarō 桂太郎 (1848–1913) was not only an important army officer to serve in the war, but also later served briefly as governor-general of Taiwan, four times as minister of the army, and as prime minister. 5.  Ekō (Skt. pariṇāmāna) refers to the ritual dedication of merit produced by good deeds for the karmic benefit of others, here being the war dead. 6.  Note that the eulogy, and the subsequent gāthā, are not about the dead, but are rather addressed to the dead. For a careful description of Sōtō Zen funerary rites for the laity, along with translations of ritual addresses to the dead, see T. Griffith Foulk, “Ritual in Japanese Zen Buddhism,” in Zen Ritual: Studies of Zen Buddhist Theory in Practice, ed. Steven Heine and Dale S. Wright (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 71–76. 7.  Fought in September 1894, the Battle of P’yǒngyang forced the Qing forces to retreat from the Korean peninsula. 8.  Concerning the Terrace of Esoteric Grandeur (mitsugon dōjō 密厳道 場) conceived of in medieval Shingon thought as a postmortem destination on par with the more familiar Pure Land of Amitābha, see chapter 5 of Robert E. Morrell, Early Kamakura Buddhism: A Minority Report (Berkeley: Asian Humanities Press, 1987). 9.  The original phrase for this last sentence, naishi hokkai byōdō riyaku 乃 至法界平等利益, is one kind of standard formula for dedicating the merit produced in a funerary ritual to others—here, to all sentient beings. 10.  These two realms of the standard Buddhist cosmology refer to endless battle (the realm of the titan-like Asuras, in their unending, if



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unsuccessful, quest to dethrone the gods) and to endless privation (the realm of the beggar-like hungry ghosts, who cannot take nourishment from normal human sustenance). 11.  The indō 引導 functions as a “guiding phrase” to help the deceased journey to the life to come. 12.  Although the cleric in this particular account belongs to Rinzai Zen, the following description of indō practice in Sōtō Zen is nonetheless suggestive. The indō “has been adopted by most Japanese Buddhist traditions, each of which gradually developed its own form of indō. In Sōtō Zen, the indō funeral sermon often follows the question-and-answer format of the koan. Typically it deals with the fundamental problem of life and death. The officiant priest poses a question in cryptic Zen-style language, followed by a pause in which he waves a torch (ako 下火 or 下炬), drawing a circle of fire and then flinging the torch down, and recites a concluding resolution to the question. He also delivers a ferocious shout, designed to ‘roar’ the deceased back to the original realm of the Buddha. While the paradoxical language of the Zen indō sermon is incomprehensible to most lay followers, the officiant with his ritual torch is symbolically understood to illuminate the darkness of the other world to show the way for the deceased.” Mariko Namba Walter, “The Structure of Japanese Buddhist Funerals,” in Death and the Afterlife in Japanese Buddhism, ed. Jacqueline I. Stone and Mariko Namba Walter (Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press, 2008), 267. 13.  This is the dabei zhou 大悲咒. The recitation of this dhāraṇī, or spell, seems to have become a standard part of Chinese ritual practice at least by the Yuan dynasty (1271–1368). It is also regularly recited in Japanese Zen. 14.  See the biographical entry about Frédéric Flandin (1860–1900) available on the website of the Archives des Missions Étrangères de Paris (MEP), accessed May 22, 2020, http://archives.mepasie.org/fr/notices /notices-biographiques/flandin. 15.  Careful consideration for Euro-American citizens in the battle zones of North China seems to have been a deliberate policy of the Japanese military in this war. With regard to the implementation of this policy in Niuzhuang (Newchwang), see, for instance, “Not in Danger: Foreigners Protected by the Japanese: The Conquering Army Guarding American and European Residents of China,” San Francisco Chronicle, May 10, 1895. 16.  This iron scepter (tetsu nyoi 鉄如意) gives its name to Genjō’s published account in which this “Record of Niuzhuang” appears.

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17.  Samantabhadra and Mañjuśrī are bodhisattvas or wisdom beings, often appearing in a pair as attendants of the Buddha Śākyamuni. Traditionally regarded as his youngest and oldest disciples, respectively, so too do Ānanda and Kāśyapa also frequently appear as a pair in attendance on the Buddha Śākyamuni. 18.  Whether this sentence is to be taken at face value, or is actually a snide remark, is unclear. 19.  Genjō’s original text refers to the kappa sprite by a common variant name, “Kawa Taro,” or “Kawa Tarō” 河太郎. Genjō’s text provides no phonetic guide, but the same characters have other variant readings: “Ga Taro,” “Ga Tarō,” etc. 20.  Needless to say, Genjō’s position reflects domestic Japanese propaganda and popular sentiment. Xiuqi seems to have been too judicious to offer an outright challenge to it. 21.  Mountains of swords and trees with blades instead of leaves feature in more than one of the Buddhist hells, including the Hell of Revival (J. tōkatsu jigoku 等活地獄; Skt. sañjīva) and the Hell of Assembly (J. shugō jigoku 衆合地獄; Skt. saṃghāta). For a description of the Buddhist hells as envisioned in ancient Japan, see Caroline Hirasawa, “The Inflatable, Collapsible Kingdom of Retribution: A Primer on Japanese Hell Imagery and Imagination,” Monumenta Nipponica 63, no. 1 (Spring 2008): 1–50. 22.  Indeed, the MEP archives show that even Catholic missionaries active in nineteenth-century Manchuria were often concerned about the depth of actual faith among their converts, who were mostly illiterate, and who belonged mostly to the lower classes. See Ji Li, “Measuring Catholic Faith in Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Northeast China,” in In God’s Empire: French Missionaries and the Modern World, ed. J. P. Daughton and Owen White (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 173–194. 23.  That is to say, it is an important Buddhist center for temples and a site of pilgrimage.

chapter 3

“The Japanese People’s Spirit” (1912) Shaku Sōen Translated by Michel Mohr

Translator’s Introduction The piece translated below provides a sample of the questionable rhetoric used by a Zen priest within the context of Japanese expansion into East Asia and its colonization of new territories. It complicates our understanding of Japanese Buddhism and of the role played by some of the Zen tradition’s representatives in the early twentieth century.1 Kōgaku Sōen 洪嶽宗演 (1860–1919), known during his lifetime as Shaku Sōen 釈宗演, gave this talk in the fall of 1912 while visiting Manchuria, less than two years before the outbreak of World War I. In Japan, at that time, the boost of confidence resulting from the victory in the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 was leading to systematic efforts in expanding the empire’s reach in Asia, the most recent example being the 1910 annexation of Korea. Shock waves from the Russian Revolution of 1905 and from the late 1911 Xinhai 辛亥 Revolution in China were affecting Japan, and the repression against everyone suspected of sympathy with communism or anarchism was at an all-time high.2 During this particular trip to Korea and China, Sōen was invited by the South Manchurian Railway, a rich sponsor, no less than “Japan’s largest corporation” at the time.3 It constituted Sōen’s second journey to Manchuria, the first one having been the traumatic experience of serving as chaplain during the Russo-Japanese War.4 This time Sōen’s journey led him from Korea to China and, after boarding the boat in Shimonoseki harbor on October 8, 1912, he arrived in Pusan the following morning. The trip was to last until November 6 (see footnote 35 below). No information is available about the type of audience Sōen was 253

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speaking to, but his mention of several hundred attendees suggests that it must have been students, including those coming from Japanese families stationed in Manchuria, their parents, and the Japanese and Chinese community at large, with staff from the South Manchurian Railway, who were the sponsors. He had been invited for this tour by Nakamura Yoshikoto 中村是公 (1867–1927), the second chairman of the South Manchurian Railway Company, who was also a lifelong friend of novelist Natsume Sōseki 夏目漱石 (1867–1916). At that stage, leading Japanese representatives living in Manchuria wanted to publicize the material accomplishments of the South Manchurian Railway in “modernizing” this region of China while also demonstrating Japan’s achievements in the cultural sphere. To recap the atmosphere surrounding Sōen’s talk, this trip occurred in the aftermath of the Russo-Japanese War, in a context where Japan was increasingly taking the place of the former Russian influence in this region. When the civil presence was replaced by soldiers in 1931, Manchuria, with its abundant natural resources, eventually became an outpost for the Japanese colonial presence in East Asia. Among the distinctive features of Sōen’s talk, readers may be struck by his usage of the controversial expression “Japanese people’s spirit” (Yamato minzoku no seishin 大和民族の精神), with its undertones evoking racial superiority.5 The Japanese equivalent for this term is discussed in the translation below. It is also necessary to mention that for a Japanese audience or readership the word seishin, translated as “spirit,” tends to be “loaded” with strong nationalist undertones as this term was systematically used for propaganda purposes, especially later in the wake of the Pacific War. Another feature worth noticing is how Sōen speaks of “Zen” or the “principles of Zen” (Zen no shūshi 禅の宗旨) in a way that evokes the style later developed by his disciple Suzuki Daisetsu Teitarō 鈴木大拙貞太郎 (a.k.a. D. T. Suzuki; 1870–1966). As explained elsewhere, Sōen represents one of the cornerstones in the construction of “Zen” for Western consumption, which went into full swing with Suzuki’s works in English.6

Translation Let us try to meditate in silence for only three minutes. When leaving for the sea, one becomes a water-soaked corpse. When leaving for the mountain, one becomes a grass-sprouting corpse.



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Yet if one dies in the Emperor’s presence, This will not be dying in vain.7 Since I am essentially a Zen priest, it is implied that I, from the start, uphold Zen’s intent “not to set up words, [to provide] a special transmission aside from the teachings, directly pointing to the human heart, to see [one’s true] nature [and to] realize Buddhahood.”8 Our specialty as Zen priests is not to talk, to argue, or to provide verbal explanations but rather to explain directly with our own body. I am affiliated with the tradition based on this principle but, regarding what I am about to discuss, I would be greatly satisfied if all of you could find even a little of what we call “gold dust mixed in the sand” (shachū no sunkin 沙中の寸 金). Yet you should also be aware that this time I won’t talk directly about the principles of Zen. Rather, I would like to talk about something we may call our “Japanese people’s Great Spirit.” From olden days, people have used [the term] “Yamato Soul” (Yamato damashii 大和魂) to express the Great Spirit of the Yamato People (Yamato minzoku no daiseishin 大和民族の大精神). Although everyone refers to it,9 one may wonder what kind of “spirit” they indicate when speaking of the “Yamato Soul.” When trying to ask again this question, it appears that most people will say, “this is the Yamato Soul, the Great Spirit of Japan,” while only a few individuals are able to articulate a clear definition. On this Yamato Soul or Japanese Spirit there is, essentially, no room for saying this, that, or adding interpretations. Tonight, however, I will venture to formulate a few superfluous thoughts about it. Overall, when we ask from where did the Japanese people’s Great Spirit originate, we should try to consider this issue subjectively. If, on the contrary, we attempt to approach it objectively from a historical perspective, it would involve going back from the first human emperor all the way to the age of the kami 神, eventually reaching the primeval indistinct chaos prior to them, and therefore an area that cannot be investigated. If we adopt the subjective approach, however, in asking what the Yamato Soul is, [then] we can direct this inquiry toward our own spirits. When we consider this intuitively, I believe that our very thoughts contain something that connects directly with this Great Spirit. As far as this area is concerned, explanations or interpretations have little relevance, and we cannot fully express its real essence. However, the mind that asks “right now, how is it?”10 constitutes, as is, the Yamato Soul. I believe that, right there, something with a dazzling brilliance (kōki 光輝) manifests.

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Here, there is something that I need to add: This thing called “Zen” comes up throughout my talk, and you must be wondering what it consists of. If we were to explain this thing called “Zen” from the specialists’ perspective, it would include many difficult aspects but, in a nutshell, it indicates the mind. What is “Zen”? It is the mind. And what is the mind? It is “Zen.” This is one way to put it. If we were to further dissect the mind and discuss it from a psychological perspective, then, as you know, we could speak of knowledge, of intention, or of emotions. There are several ways to divide it but when I say here that it consists of the mind, I do not mean the mind’s manifestations; I rather point toward the mind’s essence itself (kokoro sono mono no hontai 心其物の本体). Intuitively, one perceives at once that “Zen” is the mind and the mind is “Zen.” That being the case, and if we are to consider [the issue] one step further, it is here we can grasp one facet of the Great Spirit that we are all endowed with, and see what it consists of. The ancients reluctantly provided an interpretation of this essence, saying, “horizontally it extends across the ten directions, vertically it exhausts the three dimensions of time.”11 [The first part,] “horizontally it extends across the ten directions,” means that when observing it from a horizontal perspective, spatially it stretches toward the East, West, South, North, above and below, and in the four intermediary points between the cardinal directions. [The second part,] “vertically it exhausts the three dimensions of time,” means that when observing it from a vertical perspective, temporally it stretches throughout the past and the future. It also implies that no fixed walls have been constructed indicating that, from this point up to this other point we have the past, then from this point up to this other point we have the present, and from this point up to this other point we have the future. It is only according to where our physical bodies have been placed that we call it past, present, or future. This amounts to a hypothesis. When presenting things in this manner, if we ask whether the mind is extending endlessly, how is it possible to ignore the way this mind functions? Regarding this mind, “when set free, it extends across the whole universe, when reeled in, it withdraws and hides in secrecy.”12 I do not know how many hundreds of you are present here, but each of you has a mind that functions individually, indicating that, somehow, “my mind is different from his, and his mind is different from mine.” Yet when I produce a loud sound (at this point master [Sōen] hit the desk once), your hundreds of minds all turn their focus to this one “bang.” At this time, it



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is as if your minds have been entirely captured by the sound. Thus, when the sound “bang” is produced your minds momentarily come here but then, immediately, they come back within your reach. Whether we seize it or we bring it back, whether we hide it or express it, the mind is really something completely free ( jiyū jizai na mono 自由自在なもの). If we ask why, it is precisely because “horizontally it extends across the ten directions, vertically it exhausts the three dimensions of time.” In any case, when speaking about the mind, although to most people it evokes something purely abstract, this abstraction in fact [also] becomes, just as it is, a concrete phenomenon. From this perspective, when the sound “bang” is now produced, there are countless minds dwelling in this one sound, and countless worlds are opened up within it. Because it happens in this way, suppose that we are imagining London’s landscape in our mind: while hearing the sound “bang,” we will be strolling inside London’s Hyde Park with both arms dangling in a confident manner. It feels as if in the park horse carriages are running, birds are chirping toward blooming flowers, and in the pond fish are jumping, while crowds are merrily enjoying themselves. Yet this landscape changes completely with the banging sound and, this time, we go to New York’s Central Park. Although in terms of swiftness one may bring up things such as lightning, [the speed of] electricity, or telegraphing, there is no way they can really compare to this. It is barely an exaggeration to say that [its speed] is almost inconceivable by our thought. This may indeed sound like nonsense (detarame 出鱈目). Even if you think about it from the perspective of the academic disciplines you have been studying, I definitely think that we are not far from the truth. This banging sound immediately fills a multitude of worlds in the ten directions, and the multitude of worlds in the ten directions immediately returns to this one sound. Thus, if we were to ask how this can be grasped, it is done intuitively (chokkanteki 直感的). When expressed in religious terms, it amounts to “sudden and thorough realization.”13 It also means that we recognize the luminosity (hikari 光) of our mind by touching its wonderful functioning (myōki 妙機). As I already mentioned, this luminosity is nothing else but the real source of the universe, the essence of the mind, and indeed the Great Spirit of our Japanese people is in fact not different from that. If this is the case, now let me talk a little about what this Japanese people’s Great Spirit consists of. [What follows is mentioned,] as you know, in the Chronicles of Japan (Nihon shoki 日本書紀). The ancestor of our [founding] Emperor,

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Amaterasu Ōmikami 天照太神, took the precious mirror (hōkyō 宝鏡) in her own hands and bestowed it to her offspring Ame no Niho no Mimi no Mikoto 天忍穂耳尊,14 declaring, “my child, when you look at this precious mirror, you should do as if you were watching me, keep it in your couch, in the same room, and handle it as a pure mirror (iwai no kagami 斎鏡),” and so on.15 Then it is said that she also declared to the divine descendant Ninigi no Mikoto 瓊々杵尊, “the country of Mizuho 瑞穂 in Toyoashihara 豊葦 原 is the land where my descendants should serve as kings and, as my divine descendant,16 you should govern it. Go! The precious Imperial rank (hōso 宝祚) will flourish and, together with heaven and earth, it will never end,” and so on.17 Truly, these two injunctions by the kami should not be forgotten by the nation, and we can respectfully acknowledge how the Great Spirit of the Japanese people is clearly expressed in these divine orders (shinchoku 神勅). This constitutes the foundation for the [expression] “[united] in loyalty and filial piety” that we are always reciting.18 Although there is no doubt that words such as “loyalty” or “filial piety” initially emerged in China, the Chinese version of “loyalty and filial piety” and its Japanese version differ completely in their meaning.19 Regarding loyalty and filial piety in China,20 there are times when both do not coincide. This is clear when examining Chinese history, with its rulers constantly changing in different time periods; this is why it often occurred that when they were willing to be loyal they could not show filial piety, and when they were willing to show filial piety they could not be loyal. In contrast, since we, the Japanese people, have been blessed with one single everlasting Imperial lineage (bansei ikkei no kōtō 万世一系の皇統), loyalty is none other than filial piety, and filial piety is none other than loyalty. When directed at one’s ruler, such a frame of mind (kokoro 心) becomes loyalty, and when directed at one’s parents, it becomes filial piety. It does not stop there, however: for parents, it manifests as love for their children; for the ruler, it takes the form of benevolence toward his subjects. Thus its names may change but, ultimately, it constitutes nothing else than the spirit in which loyalty and filial piety coincide. The Japanese people’s Great Spirit has its roots in what I just explained, and this Spirit mostly has been transmitted by our ancestors from generation to generation, through blood, and from mind to mind, until this very day. Although explanations about the Yamato Soul are



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scarce in terms of historical research, the Sequel to the Chronicles of Japan (Shoku Nihongi 続日本紀) includes [the following] poem by Ōtomo [no Yakamochi] 大伴家持, in which he praises his distant ancestors: When leaving for the sea, one becomes a water-soaked corpse. When leaving for the mountain, one becomes a grass-sprouting corpse. Yet if one dies in the Emperor’s presence, This will not be dying in vain.21 Although its format differs from the aforementioned divine injunction by the Imperial ancestors, since their spirits coincide, it is truly possible to consider this poem as representative of the Spirit of our Japanese Imperial subjects. One of its aspects is the spirit that makes the ruler oversee all the people, another aspect being the spirit that conveys the Imperial will to the people’s hearts.22 This short poem is, in such a way, filled with the Japanese people’s Spirit. There is also a poem by Lord Sanetomo, which says: Even in a world where mountains would split and oceans dry, Never will I harbor disloyalty toward my Lord.23 This also expresses in poetic form the fact that the Great Spirit of the Japanese people remains consistent throughout the ages, everlasting and unchangeable. There is also a poem composed by Motoori Norinaga 本居宣長, saying: When someone asks about Shikishima’s Yamato Soul24 The perfume of wild cherry tree flowers in the rising sun25 This is how it appears: eventually, our Japanese people’s spirit is the apotheosis of the spirit of unification between loyalty and filial piety. It is the absolutely still and unmovable mind, which could not be burnt by any wildfire, or carried away by any strong floodwater. We feel humbled in acknowledging that the previous emperor26 showed this Great Spirit to us, his subjects, by dividing it into Five Articles.27 First, loyalty (chūsetsu 忠節), second, courtesy (reigi 礼儀), third, military courage (buyū 武勇), fourth, trust (shingi 信義), and fifth, frugality (shisso 質素). Then, he added, “the one sincere heart is none

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other than the spirit of the five articles.” I think that we can compare these five to our five fingers. When we close the five fingers, they become one fist, and when we open the fist it turns again into five fingers. Similarly, the one sincere heart becomes the five articles, and the five articles become the sincere heart. This spirit has been carried on from the days of previous courts into the Nara period, and further into the Heian, Kamakura, Ashikaga, and then Tokugawa periods but, as it went through the time of the [Meiji] Restoration and reached our time, it is possible to say that this spirit developed still further and even improved. After the medieval government moved into the hands of the samurai, however, as warriors and the military elite became for a time the representatives of this spirit, the name Bushidō 武士道 [lit., “the warrior’s path”] was eventually adopted. This Bushidō spirit was further strengthened by the contemporary emergence of Zen, while the power of the samurai also contributed to the development of Zen. They were so closely intertwined that we do not know which one was the subject and which one the object, which one was the parent and which one the child. The most characteristic example of this was the Hōjō 北条 period. We speak of the Hōjō clan, but this actually includes nine generations, among which there were individuals both unscrupulous and exceptional. Although the simple mentioning of the Hōjō clan [as a whole] tends to evoke a bad reputation, when we distinguish between its various members one by one, we see how they included different individuals, who should be evaluated in different ways. For instance, I think that even the great [Rai] San’yō28 was a bit biased in his evaluation of the Hōjō clan. It may be because most historians of his time were reporting about them in a partial way, but San’yō wrote that since the Hōjō had converted to the Zen school (Zenshū 禅宗) and studied Zen, they became filled with a spirit of selfimportance and acted in a way lacking respect for the Imperial family.29 For those who don’t know the details, this may seem plausible. It may seem that since Zen creates individuals who have a strong personality ( jigateki no hito 自我的の人), it puts the emphasis on the self ( jiko 自己), and the inclination to exhaust loyalty toward the ruler becomes slighter. Setting purely rational arguments aside for the moment, checking the facts reveals that this is a completely mistaken view! [Sōen provides a lengthy discussion of Hōjō family members, their respective relation to Zen, and of the failed Mongol invasion of Japan.]



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As previously mentioned, this Yamato Soul developed during the period when the military class was in charge of the government and, since the samurai (bushi) were its representatives, it became known as Bushidō, but, today, this Yamato Soul should not exclusively be left to the samurai. It is possible to directly transfer this Bushidō spirit to those practicing agriculture and to make it function as the path of agriculture, or it can also function as the path of trade for those who are engaged in commerce. In such a way, if it is applied and functions for all Japanese citizens, then I think that in the future this spirit inherited from our ancestors will be perpetuated from generation to generation, and will develop even further. Regarding the manifestation of the Japanese soul, we have seen a real example during the Russo-Japanese War and, if we look further back in time, we can see this spirit [at work] during the Boxer Uprising,30 in the First Sino-Japanese War, and then further in the past during the great reforms of the Meiji Restoration. This spirit excelled so well that in the Eastern Sea it became Mount Fuji, and it coalesced into Yoshino’s innumerable cherry blossoms.31 The more this spirit flourishes, the stronger our country becomes. This, however, is perhaps not limited to Japan but every country is similar. For instance, in the United States they extol the existence of the American spirit, in France the French spirit, in Germany the German spirit, and in Great Britain they praise the existence of the British spirit. Yet in Japan there is this Great Spirit called the Yamato Soul. Therefore, regarding the world hereafter, depending on the perspective one adopts, it may prove to be like sumo wrestling between spirit and spirit, a tug of war. Countries where this spirit gets displayed to the full will thrive, whereas they will weaken as soon as this spirit even slightly degenerates. We can see instances of this in [the fate of] Egypt or India. It is also visible in Korea’s recent developments. This is also something that may be visible in China’s current condition. If one were to discuss this based on the country’s size, Japan is really a small country but, from the perspective of its spirit, it extends over the whole world.32 This is why I think that in the future it will be truly difficult to make Japan’s brilliance shine in the world by relying only on material power,33 or by trusting exclusively our knowledge or erudition. Thus, to put the kind of academic knowledge that you have acquired to good use, if you possess the Yamato Soul, namely the spirit of Bushidō, then the Japanese Empire will prosper forever!34 November of the first year of the Taishō era (1912),35 [talk given] in the lecture hall of the Changchun Elementary School in South Manchuria.

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Notes This translation is based on Shaku Sōen 釈宗演, “Yamato Minzoku no Seishin” 大和民族の精神, in Nenge mishō 拈華微笑 [Holding up a flower with a subtle smile] (Tokyo: Heigo Shuppansha, 1915; 1977 reprint by Kokusho Kankōkai, with simplified characters), 258–277. See the digitized version in the National Diet Library Digital Collections, accessed May 24, 2020, http://kindai.ndl.go.jp/info:ndljp/pid/943882. The talks Sōen gave during this trip were first published in 1913 under the title Guidebook to Practice (Shūyō no shiori 修養の枝折) by the office of the South Manchurian Railway. 1.  This piece first came to my attention while writing the book Buddhism, Unitarianism, and the Meiji Competition for Universality (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2014), 223–227. 2.  In 1911, the so-called High Treason Incident had just served to justify the execution of twelve activists accused of plotting the emperor’s assassination, including the Sōtō Zen priest Uchiyama Gudō 内山愚童 (1874–1911). 3.  Louise Young, Japan’s Total Empire: Manchuria and the Culture of Wartime Imperialism (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998), 31. 4.  About this, see Micah Auerback, “A Closer Look at Zen at War: The Battlefield Chaplaincy of Shaku Sōen in the Russo-Japanese War (1904–1905),” in Buddhism and Violence: Militarism and Buddhism in Modern Asia, ed. Vladimir Tikhonov and Torkel Brekke (New York: Routledge, 2012), 152–171; and Michel Mohr, “The Use of Traps and Snares: Shaku Sōen Revisited,” in Zen Masters, ed. Steven Heine and Dale Stuart Wright (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 183–216. On the role of Buddhist chaplaincy in Japan’s modern wars, see also the previous chapter on Yamagata Genjō by Micah Auerback in this volume (part V, chapter 2). 5.  For the broader context of the relationship between modern Buddhism and ultranationalism, see also the essays included in Tikhonov and Brekke, eds., Buddhism and Violence. 6.  See Michel Mohr モール、ミシェル, “Kindai ‘Zen shisō’ no keisei: Kōgaku Sōen to Suzuki Daisetsu no yakuwari o chūshin ni” 近代「禅思想」 の形成：洪岳宗演と鈴木大拙の役割を中心に, Shisō 思想 943 (2002): 46–63; and Mohr, “Shaku Sōen Revisited.” 7.  Section of a poem attributed to Ōtomo no Yakamochi 大伴家持, an eighth-century poet and politician. This poem appears in a slightly different version in the Man’yōshū 万葉集 anthology, chapter 18, and was later included in the 797 chronicle Shoku Nihongi 続日本紀. Although in 1937 it



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was adopted as an army song, at the time of Sōen’s talk it merely constituted an antique poem, even though it already expressed unconditional devotion to the emperor. 8.  The slogan coined in the Song period to epitomize the Chan tradition: “A special transmission aside from the teachings, without setting up words, directly point to the human heart, see [your true] nature and realize Buddhahood” (J. kyōge betsuden 教外別伝 furyū monji 不立文字 jikishi ninshin 直指人心 kenshō jōbutsu 見性成仏). 9.  Carries the nuance of something done “randomly” (dare mo kare mo). 10.  An expression commonly used in Chan and Zen texts to test a student’s insight (sokkon ikan 即今如何). 11.  Although various Chan and Zen teachers used this expression, it is probable that Sōen was acquainted with it through the sayings of Wuxue Zuyuan 無学祖元 (1226–1286), the founder of Engakuji 円覚寺. See for instance T 2003 48:0222c06 and T 2549 80:0151c27–c28. 12.  Sōen paraphrases the Chinese line fangzhi ji miliuhe, juanzhi ji tuicangyu mi 放之即弥六合、巻之即退蔵於密 from Zhu Xi’s 朱熹 (1130–1200) preface to the Collected Commentaries of the Mean (Zhongyong Zhuzi zhangju xu 中庸朱子章句序). 13.  This Chinese expression huoran guantong 豁然貫通 (J. kotsunen kantsū) is attributed to Zhu Xi in his Great Learning by Section and Phrases (Daxue zhangju 大学章句) but it was later used by Zen teachers including Hakuin Ekaku 白隠慧鶴. 14.  Nihon shoki 2/9, 2. This spelling follows the pronunciation in Sōen’s talk but this kami’s name is also transcribed as “Ama no oshihomimi no Mikoto.” See Kojima Noriyuki 小島憲之, ed., Nihon shoki 1 日本書紀① (Chronicles of Japan), vol. 2 of Shinpen Nihon koten bungaku zenshū 新編日本古 典文学全集 (Tokyo: Shōgakkan, 1994), 138n. This episode in Japanese mythology is considered as the source legitimizing the handing down of the sacred mirror (Yata no Kagami 八咫鏡), one of the Japanese Imperial family’s three regalia. 15.  The Chinese characters in iwai no kagami 齋鏡 (J. saikyō; Ch. zhaijing) convey the idea of ritual purity associated with this object of worship and of its sacred character. Aston’s old translation speaks of a “holy mirror.” W. G. Aston, Nihongi: Chronicles of Japan from the Earliest Times to A.D. 697 (Rutland, VT: Tuttle, 1972), 85. 16.  The characters 皇孫 are read sumemima or kōson. 17.  Nihon shoki 2/9, 1: 1. See Kojima, Nihon shoki 1, 130. This is one of the “three great divine injunctions” (san dai shinchoku 三大神勅) attributed

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to Amaterasu in the Shinto classics. This particular injunction is interpreted as the justification for the Imperial rule over the Japanese archipelago. 18.  Phrase found in the second paragraph of the Imperial Rescript on Education (Kyōiku chokugo 教育勅語) promulgated in October 1890, which had to be recited by all school students in the years between 1890 and 1945. 19.  The expression “difference [as big as] between heaven and earth” (shōjō no sa 霄壌の差) emphasizes the magnitude of the gap. 20.  It is interesting to point out that Sōen’s text published in 1915 used the derogatory term for China (Shina 支那), whereas the 1977 edition has replaced it with the more neutral modern word (Chūgoku 中国). 21.  Regarding this poem quoted at the beginning of Sōen’s address, see footnote 7 above. 22.  This respectful expression literally indicates the “holy thoughts or intentions” (go seishi ご聖旨), which are being “transplanted” into each citizen’s mind or heart. 23.  Poem included as number 663 in the Kinkai Wakashū 金槐和歌集 (compiled in 1213), a collection of poetry in Japanese by Minamoto no Sanetomo 源実朝 (1192–1219), the third shogun of the Kamakura military regime. He vowed fidelity to Emperor Go-Toba 後鳥羽天皇 (1180–1239). 24.  Shikishima 敷島 is a place-name that metaphorically indicates Japan but is used as a poetic convention (makura kotoba 枕詞). 25.  This poem was added to a self-portrait drawn by Motoori Norinaga (1730–1801) at age sixty-one. During the Pacific War, this poem’s meaning was distorted for propaganda purposes and became infamous because of the four kamikaze squadrons that named themselves after four of the poem’s words (Shikishima, Yamato, Asahi, and Yamazakura). It also held a prominent place in chapter 15 of Nitobe’s Bushidō, first published in 1900 (Nitobe Inazo, Bushidō: The Soul of Japan [Tokyo: IBC Publishing, 2008], 261). It is likely that Sōen read Nitobe’s publication, as illustrated by his usage of the term Bushidō below. 26.  Emperor Meiji passed away a few months prior to this trip, in July 1912. 27.  This does not indicate the widely known Oath in Five Articles (Gokajō no goseimon 五箇条の御誓文) of 1868 but the later Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors (Gunjin chokuyu 軍人勅諭) issued in January 1882. Army personnel were supposed to memorize this long text of 2,700 characters, and Sōen probably got acquainted with it during his chaplain mission in Manchuria. 28.  Rai San’yō 頼山陽 (1780–1832) was a Neo-Confucian scholar who compiled a major survey of Japanese history called Nihon gaishi 日本外史



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(External history of Japan), published in 1827. It focused on the warrior class throughout history. 29.  Showing a lack of respect ( fukei 不敬) carries a strong nuance that can even extend to “treason,” as in the abovementioned High Treason Incident of 1911. 30.  A xenophobic uprising that occurred between 1899 and 1901 at the end of the Qing dynasty, precipitating its demise. Japan sent troops to defeat the insurrection and protect its citizens, eventually reaping the fruits of its efforts through the first Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902. 31.  This may constitute an allusion to the 1911 army song called “Hohei no honryō” 歩兵の本領 (the infantryman’s real specialty), which repeatedly mentions the “myriad of cherry blossoms” (banda no sakura 万朶の桜). In this passage the meaning of the “Eastern Sea” is somehow unclear but it probably alludes to East Asia as a whole. 32.  The verb used here literally means “to cover” (ōu 覆う). 33.  The usage of this term (busshitsuteki chikara 物質的力) seems intentionally ambiguous and can imply military power as well as economic power, or both. 34.  Here, Sōen concludes by using the expression for “long life” (ban banzai 万々歳), also used to wish for the emperor’s longevity or as a shout for Japanese citizens to celebrate any auspicious event. 35.  This is the date appended at the end of Sōen’s talk (Taishō 1, eleventh month) in both the original and the modern edition. Here I must correct the date provided in another source saying that he had to leave Changchun on October 31, 1912, earlier than expected (Mohr, “Shaku Sōen Revisited,” 187). The biography later published by his disciple stipulates that this trip “ended on November 6” of 1912 (Shaku Keishun 釈敬俊 [Taibi 大眉], ed., Ryōgakutsu nenjiden 楞伽窟年次伝 [Kanaoka-mura, Shizuoka: Daichūji, 1942], 128). Thus, this lecture must have taken place between November 1 and November 6.

chapter 4

A Travelogue in Tibet (1904) Kawaguchi Ekai Translated by Nathaniel Gallant

Translator’s Introduction After several centuries of relative isolation, sustained critique, and significant loss in institutional hegemony, the Buddhist institution in Japan entered the modern period in a highly vulnerable position. In response, a variety of new strategies were developed to ensure its relevance to the Meiji Imperial government, rapidly intensifying colonial expansion on the Asian continent, and a new plurality in which to situate itself—the recently introduced concept of “religion” (shūkyō 宗教). While some turned to the history of Buddhism in Japan, many clergy and scholars traveled abroad in search of new archives, linguistic knowledge, and scholarly methods in both Asia and Europe. Tibet was implicated in modern Japanese religious discourse as an incident of this outward movement of Buddhist clerics.1 In 1884, Nanjō Bun’yū 南條文雄 (1849–1927) became the first scholar from the archipelago to return to and begin teaching in Japan with an ability to read Sanskrit, one of the South Asian languages of Buddhism’s origins. Having studied at Oxford with famed Orientalist F. Max Müller (1823– 1900), Nanjō came to serve as conduit for a major transformation in the modern study of Buddhist texts in Japan. His training suddenly made possible placing Sanskrit and Pali texts, which had come to be held in Europe as the oldest and most accurate testament of Buddhism in ancient India, at the center of renewed efforts to define the most “authentic” form of the Buddha’s teachings ( junsui bukkyō 純粋仏教). In the process, Nanjō unwittingly sparked a “Tibet fever” (nyūzōnetsu 入蔵熱)2 through his subsequent correspondence with Müller, who in 266



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acknowledging the paucity of South Asian Buddhist texts in any known archive,3 made mention of the Himalayan kingdom as a possible site for Sanskrit manuscripts and highly accurate translations in Tibetan.4 While travel there remained beyond the reach of Nanjō and his contemporaries in the 1880s and 1890s, several clergymen found themselves in Southeast Asia and turned their attention to the Pali Buddhist canon, bringing more Japanese scholars toward another hypothesis recently circulated in Europe: that the textual history and doctrinal positions held in this body of works predated those of both the Sanskrit and Chinese canons. It was a monk named Kawaguchi Ekai 河口慧海 (1866–1945) who finally reached Tibet at the end of the next decade, and attempted to triangulate its place within the emergent modern complex of religion, empire, and a rapidly changing Asia. Born in 1866 in present-day Osaka, he trained from childhood in the Ōbaku 黄檗 lineage of Zen Buddhism and spent a brief period of time at religious reformer Inoue Enryō’s 井 上円了 (1858–1919) Philosophy Hall (Tetsugakukan 哲学館).5 After returning to the Ōbaku institution and attaining the rank of abbot at a Tokyo monastery, Kawaguchi began studying Pali and Sanskrit with Japanese clergymen recently returned from Southeast Asia, at which point he resolved to go to Tibet. Like Nanjō, Kawaguchi shared a desire to collect and read extant South Asian language texts from the continent, and set his eyes on Tibet at least partly as a result of what he understood to be an acceptance “among Western scholars of the Orient” that Tibetan translations were superior to their Chinese counterparts in “matters of grammar and meaning.”6 Throughout his travels, Kawaguchi as well maintained that the “authentic Buddhism” he sought was defined in essence by the “Great Vehicle teachings.”7 The status of this body of texts as the actual word of the Buddha, and not later Indian or Chinese apocrypha, had come into question about two centuries before in early modern Japan— a suspicion that by Kawaguchi’s time had been thought by some to be confirmed by Nanjō and his contemporaries in Southeast Asia.8 This proposition, however, was a point of deep contention for Kawaguchi, who held that the Great Vehicle texts were of the utmost importance to the “Japanese nation” (Nihon kokka 日本国家). Kawaguchi departed from the port city of Kobe in 1897, studying the Tibetan language for at least a year in Darjeeling under the protection of the Orientalist Sarat Chandra Das (1849–1917). He became the first known Japanese person to enter Tibet proper in 1900, reaching the

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capital of Lhasa in 1901. Tibet had sealed its borders in the early 1880s to fend off British incursion from their colonial base in India, and had turned back two Japanese travelers at its eastern border with China several years earlier. As such, Kawaguchi presented himself in Nepal and Tibet as a Chinese physician, apparently traveling in constant fear of his true identity being discovered.9 When his nationality was eventually revealed in Lhasa, Kawaguchi departed in haste and returned to Japan in 1903. His arrival attracted an immediate swarm of attention from local reporters, eager to publish an account of the first Japanese man to have traveled to and returned from this land yet unknown to domestic audiences.10 His spoken record of the journey was taken down by reporters beginning almost as soon as he returned and was subsequently serialized in two major daily periodicals in Osaka, the Ōsaka mainichi shinbun 大阪毎日新聞 and the Jiji shinpō 時事新報. No less than a year later, these accounts were collected together into A Travelogue in Tibet (Chibetto ryokōki 西蔵旅行記).11 The Travelogue, several sections of which are translated here, stands as the most enduring legacy of Kawaguchi’s inaugural venture to Tibet. Immense popularity at the time of publication and continued readership made it largely responsible for introducing the image of Tibet into popular imagination in Japan, giving it life beyond its incidental status as a storehouse of Sanskrit texts and accurate translations.12 This is partly because, even in his own estimation, this initial voyage yielded few materials useful to the comparative study of Buddhist textual history in Japan and India.13 However the Travelogue itself, as the most widely disseminated product of his now famous voyage, was defined by and popular because of its litany of novel information about Tibetan customs. Its representation of “religious matters” appeared in his constant juxtaposition of Tibet’s paranoid isolationism (sakoku shugi 鎖国主義) and uncivilized social mores with what should have been the reign of moral order in a land where the Buddha’s law (buppō 仏法) had been transmitted. In this sense, his text demonstrates an important example of efforts to come to terms with the category of religion, in this case synonymous with Buddhism, as the moral compass for both Japan and the world, East and West. For Kawaguchi, neither the Japanese Empire nor Tibet truly possessed “a Buddhism” inherently its own, defined and legitimated by national, historical, or cultural development. Rather, there was the proper practice of Buddhism as defined by the Great Vehicle, and those countries more or less adherent to or unbefitting of its



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majesty. Thus, “[f]or Kawaguchi, who came to recognize Tibet not as a ‘Buddhist nation,’ but as a ‘land of sacred texts,’ ” the effect of this venture as reflected in the Travelogue “only deepened [his belief] that Japan was in fact the ‘final nation of the Buddha’s Great Vehicle.’ ”14

Translation Foreword Tibet is a strictly isolated country (sakoku 鎖国). It is considered by most to be the world’s hidden kingdom. Even though it is not easy to discern whether this is the case—it is of such strange appearance, sequestered from the world beyond its natural barriers, boasting itself to be the Buddha’s land, to be Kannon’s pure land,15 as though forming an entirely separate universe. It is so demanding of attention, that the intrigue of its manners and customs could not but entice one onward. Children can take pleasure by listening to this, and scholars can cultivate the depth of their knowledge by studying it. Is this not why the adventurers of this world do not yield to the great number of obstacles, but push onward [to Tibet]? [. . .] Tibet is a Buddhist country. If you took away Buddhism from Tibet, it would be no more than a wasteland of ignorant savages. The extent of the power Buddhism has exerted over society, and its development there during ancient times is without doubt deserving of our deep respect. In this sense, however, this book is utterly lacking, owing to the force of my desire to publish a complete account of my travels in print. In this way the product and intention differ, and I inevitably feel profound disappointment that I ended up publishing the aforementioned spoken records as one book—not being able to simply accomplish what I had set out to do. Thus I present you these feelings, in lieu of a [proper] foreword. [. . .]

Chapter 70: An Audience with His Holiness [. . .] His Holiness’s arrival 16 proceeded from the inner sanctum. Lead first by Dzunel Chenmo (the grand chamberlain) before him, followed by Choe Bon Kenpo (the head of monastic affairs), then by His Holiness,

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and finally Yonjin Rinpoche (the instructor of His Holiness) behind him. After His Holiness had reached his seat on the right of the dais, the other two stopped by his side, and Yonjin Rinpoche took a slightly lower seat. Then, seven or eight high-ranking monks passed before them.17 From there, the head physician18 led me just past His Holiness’s dais, at which point I was told to pay my obeisance. I respectfully bowed three times, then bared my shoulder of its robe and slowly continued in front of His Holiness, at which point he extended his hand toward my head. The head physician had, as expected, also gone through the rite in the same way. Then, still bent down, I backed away two ken 間,19 and the head physician and I arose standing side by side. The Words of His Holiness. With this, His Holiness mercifully spoke the following to me: “It would seem you have done a truly great service to us by curing many ill and suffering monks at Sera.20 You should remain there awhile so as to help cure the ills of those monks and laypeople,” to which I responded, “As you wish, your Holiness.” I had previously heard that His Holiness spoke excellent Chinese, so had he addressed me in Chinese, my disguise would no doubt have been immediately revealed. [. . .] To recapitulate some of what was said to me on that occasion, His Holiness was engrossed not by thoughts on religion (shūkyōteki shisō 宗 教的思想), but rather by thoughts on strategy (seiryakuteki shisō 政略的思 想). Of course, in his training he was educated only in religious matters, and his faith in Buddhism was therefore also quite profound. He seemed to have sufficient intentions for spreading Buddhism throughout his country and cleansing the degeneracy in monastic life. In addition, however, he had a great many thoughts on strategy. What he feared most was England, and appeared constantly occupied with considering what could be done to deter England; and with England’s intent on taking his Tibet, what could be done to neutralize such an attack. Though I only learned of this as a result of a great deal of research, [His Holiness] was very much engrossed in the idea of protecting himself. If he were to ever let his guard down in this respect, His Holiness would no doubt have already been poisoned and killed by one of his personal attendants. However, because of his Reverence’s shrewdness and attention to his safety, he has found a way to foresee almost every plot by his attendants to poison him, a crime that has been attempted repeatedly up to this day.21 [. . . ]



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Chapter 76: Japanese Products in the Capital Lhasa [...] One day I went to visit a street called the Barkhor,22 which is a kind of Tokyo Ginza in the main street of Lhasa.23 As merchants had put up all sorts of different stalls around there, the manner in which they set up their shops was not particularly different from that of any other country. Where the road was widest there were also many roadside vendors, whose wares were almost exclusively daily necessities. From items one needed for clothing, or those for food, to the various implements of daily life, it was mostly those of a Tibetan make that were on display, but second to them were goods imported from the Bombay or Calcutta regions in India. In the midst of all this, I found myself most moved by a set of Japanese matches. The matches, manufactured by an Osakan named Doi 土井 [Kametarō 亀太郎], had made it to the Tibetan capital of Lhasa. It is possible other [Japanese] products had ended up there as well; however, because there were no labels it was impossible to know. Some match[boxes] had the picture of elephants on both sides, and others on only one. There were wax matches that had the picture of an elephant coming out of a house, on which [box] was written “Made in Japan.”24 The picture on its surface was white and coming out of a red background. There were also a considerable number of matches manufactured originally in Sweden, but they were overwhelmed by Japanese matches and now there are only a few. Various other products with pictures of women on Japanese bamboo screens had also made it there. And although these were not for sale in regular shops, one could even find, in the house of aristocrats, Kutani-style porcelain ware.25 As a display of wealth, Japanese paintings and such too were from time to time hung in the homes of aristocrats. Seeing these Japanese products, I felt odd, as I caught myself thinking of soulless objects as more important than sentient human beings. In particular, while meandering past some storefront, seeing all of the Japanese matches come in gave rise to foolish thoughts such as that it was perhaps a virtuous cause (engi 縁起) through which the spark of Japanese wisdom was to illuminate the darkness of ignorance in this land. I incidentally then found awfully good soap there. Since there was no such thing in Lhasa before, I thought I would go ahead and buy this great find, but when I asked the price I was shot a look by the shopkeeper. [. . .]

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Chapter 79: The Objectives of Priesthood Characteristics of the Three Races: There are in fact not only Tibetans at the three colleges.26 Though they are usually taken to be Mongolians or Tibetans, there are also people of Kham, who differ slightly in race. Their character as well varies somewhat in accordance with their country. The Tibetans, though appearing genteel and thoughtful about all manner of things, are in fact a people of incredible sloth, essentially despising all study, and further seem to live in filth as a result of their sloth. If one were living the life of an average Tibetan monk, come winter they might go to the main temple hall to recite scripture or drink tea. Then, they would get naked in a sunny spot in front of their shack, and air their backs out like turtle shells. Blowing their snot on a sheepskin rag, and leaving this piece of cloth on which they blew their snot to sit atop their head to dry, they would shamelessly doze off and sun themselves with satisfaction. While unacceptable among the elders, each time I see such disreputable actions of younger people, I further comprehend the sloth of the Tibetans. Since arriving here, I can say the Mongolians do not conduct themselves in this way. Having come so far with the express purpose of learning, their studies and manner of debate are in fact quite earnest. In general, if there are five hundred of them, up to the first four hundred are generally fine, and a mere hundred are worthless. However, if there are five hundred Tibetans, four hundred and fifty of them will likely be worthless. Not to mention, most of the so-called punk monks are Tibetans as well.27 Among both the people of Kham or Mongolia, it is rare to find such a punk monk. Though Mongolians conduct their studies in this way, and are full of zeal for their enterprise, they are in fact an easily angered people, and will immediately become angry with even the most trifling matter. That is because in their pride for themselves as a people they have a strong sense of superiority, and claim that because all Mongolians are upstanding, expending great effort to become graduates and return home,28 they are in no way similar to the Tibetans or to those of Kham. Thus, they often get angry and frustrated about illogical, trifling matters when it comes to other peoples. On observing this, I truly cannot help but have pity for the narrow-mindedness of such persons. Most Mongolians are people of this sort—even those who seem to be rather mature are made angry by insignificant matters. It is difficult for such a people to



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have the patient dedication necessary to complete great deeds. Though like Genghis Khan they can engage in battle and achieve certain success, this is not enough to form the basis of an everlasting civilization and allow for the society’s gradual progress. The people of Kham are, relative to the others, rather upstanding. Though Kham is a land of thievery and extreme short-temperedness, they are not angered by trifling matters like the Mongolians—in this regard, they can be rather stoic. Among the three races they additionally possess the greatest physical strength and exceedingly chivalrous spirit. While they are known to steal and such, I have heard they are also a people of extreme zeal in their pursuit of saving sentient beings. Among the monks at Sera, I’ve observed that those who could be called noble, and be said to be full of a so-called noble spirit without any disagreeable nature, are for the most part people of Kham, and characteristically despise such things as mindless flattery. Mongolians have a similar tendency in speaking about themselves. However, on this matter Tibetans are far worse. Among the people of Kham, too, there are those who have fallen into the ways of Tibet, though these are the first people to be cast out from the Kham population. The women of Kham, seeming in every way rather cold, possess no charm whatsoever. The peoples of Tibet on their face appear so genteel among men that their women too might seem to be rather kind. In fact, though, deep within their hearts lies a fearful arsenal.

Notes This translation is based on Kawaguchi Ekai 河口慧海, Chibetto ryokōki西蔵 旅行記 (Tokyo: Hakubunkan, 1904). 1.  Tibet first appeared in the modern Japanese archive in several geography textbooks between 1872 and 1873. Ogurusu Kōchō 小栗栖香頂 (1831–1905), one of the initial Japanese Buddhist missionaries in China, produced the first sustained reflection on Tibet entirely from Chinese sources and Tibetan emissaries present in Beijing in 1876, The History of Lamaism (Ramakyō enkaku 喇嘛教沿革). See Kōmoto Yasuko 高本康子, Kindai Nihon ni okeru Chibetto-zō no keisei to tenkai 近代日本におけるチベット像 の形成と展開 (Tokyo: Fuyō Shobō Shuppan, 2010), 19–82. 2.  A term coined by Hatani Ryōtai 羽溪了諦 in 1933 to describe a period of heightened interest in “entering Tibet” (nyūzō 入蔵) during the 1890s, 210. Cited in Okuyama Naoji, “Tibet Fever Among the Japanese Buddhists of

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the Meiji Era,” in Images of Tibet in the 19th and 20th Centuries, ed. Monica Esposito (Paris: École française d’Extreme-Orient, 2008). 3.  Most Sanskrit and Prakrit (Sanskrit vernacular) manuscripts were lost or destroyed after several waves of Central Asian invasions between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries. 4.  This correspondence is collected in Nanjō sensei ihō kankōkai 南条 先生遺芳刊行会, ed., Nanjō sensei ihō 南条先生遺芳 (Kyoto: Ōtani Daigaku, 1942). The two letters referring explicitly to Tibet are dated July 30, 1884 (pp. 25–26), and August 13, 1887 (pp. 34–36). 5.  A full account of Kawaguchi’s biography can be found in Okuyama Naoji 奥山直司, Hyōden Kawaguchi Ekai 評伝河口慧海 (Tokyo: Chūō Kōron Shinsha, 2003). 6.  Kawaguchi Ekai 河口慧海, Chibetto ryokōki チベット旅行記 (Tokyo: Ōbunsha, 1978), 16. This mention is the extent to which he addresses his direct engagement with Western scholarship, so it is unclear exactly to whom he is referring here. 7.  Skt. Mahāyāna; J. Daijōkyō 大乗教. 8.  Nishimura Ryō, “The Intellectual Development of the Cult of Śākyamuni: What Is ‘Modern’ About the Proposition that the Buddha Did Not Preach the Mahayana,” The Eastern Buddhist 42, no. 1 (2011): 9–29. 9.  Tibet had long-standing diplomatic relations with the Qing dynasty (1644–1912). 10.  Kawaguchi’s actual return to Japan was preempted by the announcement that he had become the first Japanese person to successfully enter Tibet, sent in 1900 and published in Meikyō shinshi 明教新誌 in 1901 under the heading: “Letter from a Japanese Monk in Tibet” (Chibetto ni okeru Nihon sōryo no raikan 西蔵に於ける日本僧侶の来翰). 11.  Kawaguchi, Chibetto ryokōki (Tokyo: Hakubunkan, 1904). An English translation was completed by Kawaguchi in India in 1909 with the help of Annie Besant (1847–1933), then president of the Theosophical Society. See Kawaguchi Ekai, Three Years in Tibet (Benares: Theosophical Publishing Society, 1909). However, I have chosen to render the title here as A Travelogue in Tibet to reflect the Japanese work, and not the English translation whose history and reception has an altogether different role in introducing Tibet to the Anglophone world. 12.  See Kōmoto, Kindai Nihon ni okeru Chibetto-zō, 83–162. For reactions in and outside of Japan, see Takayama Ryūzō 高山龍三, Tenbō Kawaguchi Ekai ron 展望 河口慧海論 (Kyoto: Hōzōkan, 2002).



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13.  He would go back to Tibet and return with a much larger archive of Tibetan texts in 1914. 14.  Kirihara Kenshin 桐原健真, “Kawaguchi Ekai: Guhō no michi no shūchakuten” 河口慧海：求法の道の終着点, in Kindai Nihon no bukkyōsha: Ajia taiken to shisō no henbō 近代日本の仏教者：アジア体験と思想の変貌, ed. Ogawara Masamichi 小川原正道 (Tokyo: Keiō Gijuku Daigaku Shuppankai, 2010), 260. This was at odds with the opinion of Kawaguchi at other moments in his career, and later travelers to Tibet, who saw Tibet’s Buddhism as the condition for a Buddhist Imperial alliance that might stretch across Asia and counteract Christianity’s role in Western imperialism. 15.  Kannon 観音 is the Japanese rendering of the bodhisattva Avalokiteśvara. Here Kawaguchi is referring to the practice in Tibet of regarding the Dalai Lama as an incarnation of Avalokiteśvara (in Tibetan, Chenrezig [spyan ras gzigs]), and therefore considering his domain in Tibet to also be their pure land. 16.  The section titles, bolded in the original serialization and complete version, are often part of each section, sometimes integrated into the sentence or used as headers, which I have tried to reflect in each passage. 17.  Kawaguchi’s audience was with the thirteenth Dalai Lama, Thubten Gyatso (Thub bstan rgya mstho, 1876–1933). Kawaguchi ranked among the members of a growing community of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century dignitaries and religious officials, from nations with colonial interests on the Asian continent, to have established contact with Tibet’s leader for the first time; this included American dignitary William Rockhill, British dignitary Charles Bell, and Buryat monk and agent of the Russian Empire Agvan Dorjiev. I have chosen here not to correct the Tibetan names as Kawaguchi represented them, in order to retain the level of detail Kawaguchi and his editors deemed appropriate to introduce this story about a foreign land to a public audience. 18.  Kawaguchi had been introduced to the head physician in the Dalai Lama’s government earlier while in Lhasa. He was the one who arranged this audience. 19.  Approximately four meters. 20.  The Sera Monastery (Se ra dgon pa) is one of the three major monastic centers of Lhasa, where Kawaguchi stayed during part of his time there. 21.  The ninth to twelfth Dalai Lamas all died either before or shortly after attaining majority, considered by many within Tibet and contemporary scholarship to have been the work of Qing Imperial Regents embedded

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within the Tibetan court to weaken autonomous governance. There was another notable incident in 1900, that Kawaguchi was almost certainly present in Tibet to hear of, in which an attempt was apparently made on the thirteenth Dalai Lama’s life through a harmful mantra placed in a particular pair of boots, for which a former regent and his associates were arrested. 22.  This street (Bar skor) is a popular site for pilgrims near the Jokhang Temple, possibly the oldest and most important temple in Lhasa. 23.  The Ginza street was the central shopping district in Tokyo. 24.  Phoneticized in English: mēdo in Japan メード・イン・ジャパン. 25.  A style of porcelain ware supposed to have been made in Kutani 九谷, now in Ishikawa Prefecture on central Japan’s West coast. 26.  The three colleges refer to Sera, Ganden (dGa’ ldan) and Drepung (‘Bras spung) monasteries, given the title in translation of “colleges” based on their rigorous scholastic training programs. 27.  In a separate chapter (65), Kawaguchi’s report on the “punk monks” (sōshi bōzu 壮士坊主, literally “young ruffian monks”) of Tibetan monasteries is presented in full. Though at any large temple there were often monastics employed as soldiers, Kawaguchi is referring to a known phenomenon in the Tibetan monastic context: formally organized fraternities of monks at the three colleges called “dob dob” (ldob ldob), who were known for physical strength, and were often employed as bodyguards, laborers, etc. See Tashi Khedrup, Adventures of a Tibetan Fighting Monk (Bangkok: Orchid Press, 1998). 28.  Kawaguchi here and throughout uses the term literally for “doctorate” (hakase 博士) to refer to a scholastic rank within the Tibetan monastic educational system known as geshe (dge bshes, short for “virtuous friend,” dge ba’i bshes gnyen, from the Sanskrit kalyanamitra). This is the highest rank attained by a scholastic monk training within the Gelug (dge lugs) institution’s monastic program—the Gelug school being the branch of Tibetan Buddhism associated with the Dalai Lama lineage.

About the Editors and Contributors

Micah Auerback is associate professor in the Department of Asian Languages and Cultures at the University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. He is the author of A Storied Sage: Canon and Creation in the Making of a Japanese Buddha (2016). James Baskind, most recently associate professor of Japanese thought at Nagoya City University, has written on Buddhist-Christian relations in early modern Japan, with representative publications such as “ChristianBuddhist Polemics in Late Medieval/Early Modern Japan,” in Religion Compass (2014); “The Pure Land Is No Heaven: Habian’s Myōtei Dialogues, Valignano’s Japanese Catechism, and Discourse on the Afterlife During Japan’s Christian Century,” History of Religions (2018); The Myōtei Dialogues: A Japanese Christian Critique of Native Traditions, co-edited with Richard Bowring (2015), among others. He has also written widely on Sino-Japanese exchange during the Edo period as focused on the Ōbaku School of Zen. Currently he is at work on an intellectual history of tea in East Asia. Nathaniel Gallant is an editor and translator based in New York. He holds a Master’s degree in Japanese Studies from the University of Michigan, with a thesis entitled “Figurations of Buddhism: Religion, Literature, and Aesthetics in Modern Japan.” His current research focuses on the intersection of literature, poetry, and East Asian religious traditions. G. Clinton Godart is associate professor at Tohoku University, where he teaches history and religion. He received his PhD in history at the University of Chicago, and previously taught at the University of Cambridge, University of Southern California, and Hokkaido University. His research concerns the intellectual history of modern Japan, focusing 277

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Contributors

on ideology, religion, and scientific thought. His first book, Darwin, Dharma, and the Divine: Evolutionary Theory and Religion in Modern Japan (2017), explored the religious reception of the theory of evolution in Japan. He is currently studying the history of Nichirenism among Japanese army and navy officers. Hoshino Seiji is associate professor at the Institute for Japanese Culture and Classics, Kokugakuin University. He received his PhD and MA in Religious Studies from the University of Tokyo. He specializes in history of religions in modern Japan, including the process of development of the concept of shūkyō (religion) itself. He published Kindai Nihon no shūkyō gainen: Shūkyōsha no kotoba to kindai (The concept of religion in modern Japan: The language of religionists and modernity) in 2012, and has contributed many articles and book chapters on topics including the Buddhist reform movement, views on Christianity, and the interaction between Buddhists and Christians in modern Japan. Iwata Mami is associate professor in the Faculty of Letters at Ryukoku University, Kyoto, Japan. She received her PhD from Ryukoku University in the field of modern Japanese Buddhism. Her publications include Bukkyō fujin zasshi no sōkan (The establishment of Buddhist women’s magazines), co-edited with Nakanishi Naoki (2019); and Kami to hotoke no bakumatsu ishin: Kōsaku suru shūkyō sekai (Gods and buddhas at the end of the shogunate and in the Meiji Restoration: Intersecting religious worlds), co-edited with Kirihara Kenshin (2018). Jason Ā. Josephson-Storm is professor of religion and chair of Science & Technology Studies at Williams College. He received his PhD from Stanford University in 2006 and has held visiting positions at Princeton University, École Française d’Extrême-Orient, Ruhr Universität, and Universität Leipzig. Storm has three primary research foci: Japanese Religions, European Intellectual History, and Theory more broadly. Storm is the author of The Invention of Religion in Japan (2012, winner of the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, book of the year award); The Myth of Disenchantment: Magic, Modernity, and the Birth of the Human Sciences (2017); and Metamodernism: The Future of Theory after Postmodernism (forthcoming). Kameyama Mitsuhiro is a PhD candidate in the Department of Global Japanese Studies at Tohoku University. His research investigates the dis-



Contributors

279

course on Buddhist precepts within the framework of modern Japanese Buddhism. His MA thesis from Tohoku University received the fifth annual Nakamura Hajime Award in Eastern Thought and Culture in 2019. He is author of Shaku Unshō to kairitsu no kindai (Shaku Unshō and the modernity of precepts, forthcoming). Orion Klautau is associate professor of Japanese Studies at Tohoku University. His work focuses on the development of Japanese Buddhism in the modern period, with special emphasis on historiographical issues. Besides a number of articles in both English and Japanese, he is author of Kindai Nihon shisō toshite no bukkyō shigaku (Buddhist historiography as modern Japanese thought, 2012), editor of Sengo rekishigaku to Nihon bukkyō (Postwar historiography and Japanese Buddhism, 2016), and Murakami Senshō to Nihon kindai bukkyō (Murakami Senshō and modern Japanese Buddhism, 2021). Hans Martin Krämer is professor of Japanese Studies at Heidelberg University. He specializes in modern Japanese history, with particular emphasis on social history and intellectual history. His interests include education, human–animal interactions, and the global history of religions in the modern age. He has recently co-edited Theosophy across Boundaries: Transcultural and Interdisciplinary Perspectives on a Modern Esoteric Movement (2020) and Religious Dynamics under the Impact of Imperialism and Colonialism: A Sourcebook (2017). On modern Japanese religions, he has published a monograph on Shimaji Mokurai (2015) and an article on translations of the Qur’ān into Japanese (2014). Stephan Kigensan Licha received his PhD from SOAS and specializes in the intellectual history of East Asian Buddhism with a focus on the interactions between the Zen, Tendai, and Yogācāra traditions. He has published numerous articles and book chapters on these subjects, including “Hara Tanzan and the Buddhist Discovery of Experience” (2020), “Separate Teaching and Separate Transmission—Kokan Shiren’s Zen Polemics” (2018), and “Dharma Transmission Rituals in Sōtō Zen Buddhism” (2016). Other academic interests include Buddhist theories of mind and the history of traditional Japanese martial arts. Michel Mohr (PhD, University of Geneva) is full professor in the Department of Religion at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. His research

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Contributors

focuses on East Asian religions and intellectual history from the premodern period to the present. He has contributed to five volumes published by Oxford University Press: The Kōan (2000), Zen Classics (2006), Zen Ritual (2008), Buddhist Philosophy: Essential Readings (2009), and Zen Masters (2010). His most recent book, Buddhism, Unitarianism, and the Meiji Competition for Universality, was published in 2014. Fabio Rambelli is professor of Japanese Religions and ISF Endowed Chair in Shinto Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara. His publications include: Buddhas and Kami in Japan (with Mark Teeuwen, 2000); Vegetal Buddhas (2001); Buddhist Materiality (2007); Buddhism and Iconoclasm in East Asia (with Eric Reinders, 2012); A Buddhist Theory of Semiotics (2013); Zen Anarchism (2013); The Sea and the Sacred in Japan (2018); and Spirits and Animism in Contemporary Japan (2019). His research interests span various dimensions of religious discourses in Japan, such as theories and practices of representation, materiality, and the cultural meanings of objects, music, and geopolitical aspects of cultural identity. Erik Schicketanz is assistant professor in the Faculty of Shinto Studies at Kokugakuin University, Tokyo. He received his doctorate from the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Tokyo. His current research project investigates the role of religion in Sino-Japanese relations during the 1930s and 1940s, focusing on the North China region. His monograph Daraku to fukkō no kindai Chūgoku bukkyō: Nihon bukkyō to no kaikō to sono rekishizō no kōchiku (Between decline and revival: Historical discourse and modern Chinese Buddhism’s encounter with Japan) was published in 2016. Jeff Schroeder is assistant professor in the Department of Religious Studies at the University of Oregon. His publications include “Empirical and Esoteric: The Birth of Shin Buddhist Studies as a Modern Academic Discipline” (2014); and “Bukkyō shisō no seijigaku: Kaneko Daiei no ianjin mondai o megutte” (The politics of Buddhist thought: Concerning the heresy case of Kaneko Daiei), in Kiyozawa Manshi to kindai Nihon (2016). He is currently completing a book on the modern intellectual and institutional history of the Jōdo Shin sect’s Ōtani denomination. James Mark Shields is professor of comparative humanities and Asian thought and inaugural director of the Humanities Center at Bucknell



Contributors

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University (Lewisburg, PA). Educated at McGill University (Canada), the University of Cambridge (UK), and Kyoto University (Japan), he conducts research on modern Buddhist thought, Japanese philosophy, comparative ethics, and philosophy of religion. He is author of Critical Buddhism: Engaging with Modern Japanese Buddhist Thought (2011), Against Harmony: Progressive and Radical Buddhism in Modern Japan (2017), and co-editor of Teaching Buddhism in the West: From the Wheel to the Web (2003), Buddhist Responses to Globalization (2014), and The Oxford Handbook of Buddhist Ethics (2018). Jacqueline I. Stone is professor emerita of Japanese Religions (Princeton University). Her research interests span both medieval and modern periods and include the reception history of the Lotus Sūtra, especially the Tendai and Nichiren traditions; Buddhism in the formation of Japanese identity; and the interactions of Buddhist doctrine and social practice. She is the author of Original Enlightenment and the Transformation of Medieval Japanese Buddhism (1999) and Right Thoughts at the Last Moment: Deathbed Practices in Early Medieval Japan (2016). Jolyon Baraka Thomas is assistant professor of Religious Studies at the University of Pennsylvania. He is the author of Faking Liberties: Religious Freedom in American-Occupied Japan (2019) and Drawing on Tradition: Manga, Anime, and Religion in Contemporary Japan (2012). Dylan Luers Toda (MA, Buddhist Studies, Otani University; BA, East Asian Studies and Religion, Oberlin College) is a freelance Japaneseto-English academic translator. He has written on the emergence of the concept of Buddhism in Meiji Japan in the journal Kindai bukkyō (2014), as well as on advertisements in modern Japanese Buddhist media in Kindai bukkyō sutadiizu. His translations have appeared in Japanese Journal of Religious Studies, The Eastern Buddhist, Journal of Religion in Japan, and elsewhere. He lives in Philadelphia with his wife and son. Readers are invited to view his website at www.dylanluerstoda.com. Ryan Ward is senior assistant professor in the Department of Global Japanese Studies (GJS) at Meiji University (Tokyo), where he teaches courses on Japanese religion and the history of religions. His research is primarily focused on Jōdo Shin Buddhism in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. For his main work on Murakami Senshō, see his article

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Contributors

“Against Buddhist Unity: Murakami Senshō and his Sectarian Critics” in The Eastern Buddhist (2005). Garrett L. Washington is assistant professor of history at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst, where he teaches courses on Japanese history, US–Japan relations, and the intersection of race, religion, and nation in East Asia. He has published on the social and built spaces of Japanese Protestant Christianity as well as its encounter with Buddhism in Imperial Japan. His recent publications include Christianity and the Modern Woman in East Asia (2018) and “Fighting Brick with Brick: Chikazumi Jōkan and Buddhism’s Response to the Christian Spatial Menace in Japan,” in Cross-Currents: East Asian History and Culture Review E-Journal (2013). His book Church Space and the Capital in Prewar Japan is in production by University of Hawai‘i Press.

Index

Abidharma, 235 Akamatsu Renjō, 52, 88, 185, 193, 201 Amaterasu, 140n11, 258, 263n17 Amida, 56, 62n19, 93, 175, 179n21, 222 Amidakyō. See Smaller Sukhāvatīvyūha Sutra Amitāyurdhyāna Sūtra, 207 Amithāba. See Amida Analects, 94, 96n10, 118n18, 240n14. See also Confucianism Anglo-Japanese Treaty of Commerce and Navigation, 9 asceticism, 50n19, 69, 167, 207 Asia, 1, 13, 16–17, 27–29, 194, 231–240, 241–252, 253–265, 266–276; South Asia, 2, 49n11, 50n17, 266–267. See also Ceylon; China; India; Korea; Manchuria Atsumi Kaien, 74 Avalokiteśvara. See Kannon Avataṃsaka Sūtra, 234, 239n10 bakumatsu, 11, 90, 87–96, 97–108, 121, 201 Barthélemy-Saint-Hilaire, Jules, 58, 62n23 belief. See faith Bible, 24, 55, 58, 206 Bijou of Asia, The, 193 body, 126, 139n9, 151–152, 157–159, 168, 196–197, 207–208, 211n14, 219n8, 220n12, 245–246, 256. See also medicine bonreki movement, 144–145, 154n2 Britain, 9, 40, 48n2, 61n13, 74, 90–91, 121, 199n12, 201, 234, 240, 261, 268, 270. See also English language

Buddha. See Śākyamuni Buddhadharma. See dharma Buddhist chaplaincy, 27–28, 65, 241– 249, 250n1, 253, 262n4, 264n27 Buddhist cosmology, 19, 27, 28, 143– 154, 165, 179n18, 219n7, 250n10. See also bonreki movement Buddhist hells, 80, 122, 145, 149, 151, 175, 179n18, 248, 252n21 Buddhist logic, 173 Buddhist Propagation Society, 62n22, 192–193 Buddhist Studies, Buddhology, 2, 24, 55, 172–179 Bukkyō (journal), 14, 66, 192–193 Bukkyō seinenkai. See Young Men’s Buddhist Association Bukkyō Seito Dōshikai. See New Buddhism bunmei kaika. See civilization and enlightenment bushidō, 259–261, 264n25 Byakurensha, 201 canon, 24, 50n19, 121, 146, 165, 172–173, 176, 179n20, 235, 267 category of religion. See religion, concept of Catholic Church. See Christianity Ceylon, 40, 48n2 Chan. See Zen sect chaplaincy. See Buddhist chaplaincy chief abbot, 52, 55, 73, 81–82, 89, 93 Chikazumi Jōkan, 27, 65, 221–228 China: Buddhism in, 49n11, 50n19, 105, 107n10, 172, 178n14, 191n17,

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Index

267; Christianity in, 121, 210n10; classical Chinese, 55–56, 62n21, 88, 129n6, 130n10, 130n12, 139n7, 140n14, 155, 179n19, 210n9, 210n18, 219n7, 263nn12–13, 263n15, 267, 270; general perception in Japan, 87, 104, 108n16, 112–113, 119n23, 138, 178n14, 186, 208, 214, 258, 261, 264n20; history, 20, 40, 49n13, 87, 108n16, 154n6, 241–242, 251n15, 253–254; Japanese Buddhists in, 13, 27, 28, 231–240, 241–252, 273n1; perception of Chinese Buddhism in Japan, 16, 20, 27–29, 40, 46, 49nn9–10, 49n12, 49nn15–16, 50n20, 55–56, 98–99, 158, 231–240, 247. See also Confucianism; Qing dynasty Christianity: anti-Christian thought, 1–2, 4–5, 7, 9, 19, 20–26, 29, 51, 55n22, 65, 87–97, 109, 110–111, 115, 120–130, 133–134, 136, 143–147, 160, 164–167, 170, 175, 184, 193, 200–203, 206–207, 210n5, 214, 221–228, 232, 234, 237, 238, 240n13, 246–247, 249, 275n14; as model, 11–12, 18, 23, 51–63, 65, 143–154, 177n6, 177n8; Catholic Church, 10, 47, 55, 96n7, 120, 122, 225, 243, 246, 248, 249, 252n22; Christian century, 120, 277; creationism, 167, 170; mission, 1, 19, 25–26, 35n66, 51, 54, 65, 90, 120–121, 165, 192, 200, 210n5, 210n10, 211, 243, 246–247, 249, 252n22; proscription, 4, 120; Protestantism, 1, 10, 18, 26, 52–53, 55, 90, 120, 121–122, 194, 210n10, 222–223, 225; Unitarianism, 12, 120, 176. See also Bible; Jesus Chūō kōron, 193, 198nn2–3 civilization, 1, 25, 29, 45, 56, 114, 157, 174, 179n17, 210, 224, 273 civilization and enlightenment, 25, 60, 113, 116, 134, 136, 144, 183–186, 198n9, 203, 205–207 classification of teachings, 76, 172, 176, 179 Code of Education, 6

concept of religion. See religion, concept of Confucianism, 6, 17, 21, 26, 49, 88, 110, 112–115, 117, 121–122, 124, 126, 128, 129nn6–7, 133, 156, 160n4, 184, 186, 202, 206–209, 219n10, 231, 236, 237, 238, 240n18, 264n28 Constitution of the Empire of Japan, 7–9, 21, 22, 23, 61n11, 133 cosmology. See Buddhist cosmology critique of Buddhism as otherworldly, 18, 25, 27, 58, 134, 213–215. See also Analects; three teachings; Xunzi Daichidoron. See Great Treatise on the Perfection of Wisdom Daikyōin. See Great Teaching Institute daikyō senpu undō. See Great Promulgation Campaign daimoku, 98, 103, 104, 106 daimyo. See Tokugawa period Dai Nippon bukkyōto dōmeikai (Greater Japan Buddhist League), 221 Dalai Lama, 275n15, 275nn17–18, 269–270, 275n21, 276n28. See also Tibet Daoism, 186, 237, 238, 240n18. Department of Divinity, 109, 117n1 dharma, 5, 18, 20, 28, 43–46, 68, 76–81, 89, 91, 93, 97–108, 110, 111, 118n14, 129, 134, 136, 137–138, 139n6, 166, 167, 195, 212–220, 234–236, 238, 243–244, 249, 278; dharma gate, 77, 80–81, 138, 171n8 Dōgen, 2, 185, 191n17, 234 Dōshisha University, 26, 52 East-Asia. See Asia East-Asia League Movement, 214 Edkins, Joseph, 121–122 Edo period. See Tokugawa period education, 6, 17, 31n13, 32n18, 42, 48n6, 95n2, 132, 155, 158, 160n4, 163, 173, 184, 236, 272, 276n28; institutions, 18, 19, 25–26, 29, 52, 54–58, 73–75, 81, 82, 84, 88, 192, 199n11, 200, 222, 223, 224–225,



Index

228, 231, 261, 264n18; women’s education, 26, 202–204, 207, 209 Eisai, 234 ekō. See karmic law of cause and effect Emperor, 3–5, 6, 8–9, 15, 39, 42–45, 89, 94, 110–116, 133–135, 139, 139n6, 140n11, 213, 255, 258, 262n2, 262n7, 264n26, 265n34; ancient Japanese, 22, 39, 116, 137, 140nn14–15, 140n17, 255–260, 263n14, 263n17, 264n23; Chinese, 49n13, 105, 234, 240n16, 240n19, 275n21 empirical, 81, 160n8 England. See Britain English language, 25–26, 193, 198n2. See also Britain enlightenment. See civilization enzetsu. See lecture ethics, 9, 18, 22–23, 26, 41–42, 51–63, 64, 67–69, 71, 73, 80–81, 89–90, 95n4, 112, 113, 123, 126, 129n7, 132, 134–136, 158, 160n4, 161n12, 165, 185–188, 197, 203–204, 209, 213–215, 217, 224, 227, 247, 268 Europe, 2, 3, 6, 12, 13, 19, 23, 24, 27, 28, 49n7, 62n22, 116, 139n5, 165, 172–173, 177n6, 183, 184, 186–187, 201, 203, 210, 221, 224–226, 234, 238, 240n13, 251n15, 266–267. See also individual countries. evolutionary theory, 2, 12, 52. See also science experiment. See science faith, 19, 20, 23, 24, 53, 55–58, 62n15, 64, 67, 68–71, 78, 93–95, 97–108, 125, 127, 135, 137, 156–158, 174–176, 177n8, 177n9, 178n12, 179n21, 194–195, 212–215, 221–230, 252n22, 270 family, 5, 27, 196, 202–203, 213, 218, 228 Fenollosa, Ernest, 163 France, 10, 61n13, 62n22, 90, 201, 209, 226, 234, 243, 246, 248, 249, 252n22, 261 Fraternity of Puritan Buddhists. See New Buddhism

285

freedom. See free inquiry Freedom and People’s Rights Movement, 7. See also rights freedom of religion, 8, 9, 21, 43, 70, 137, 201 free inquiry, 64, 69, 71, 75, 79, 81 Fujaku, 18, 40, 48n3 Fukansai Habian, 122 fukoku kyōhei, 5 Fukuda Gyōkai, 18, 39–50 Fukuzawa Yukichi, 183–184, 185, 189n2 funerary rites, 46–47, 250n6 Furukawa Rōsen, 75 Futsū Kyōkō, 26, 192–193 gakusei. See Code of Education Gautama. See Śākyamuni gender, 17, 26, 45–46, 104, 112, 151–152, 200–211, 212–220, 235, 238, 246–247, 271, 273. See also education: women’s education Gennyo, 232 Germany, 10, 11, 177, 201, 261 Gesshō, 11, 20, 87–96 girls’ education. See education: women’s education Gokajō no Goseimon. See Oath in Five Articles goma, 175 Great Britain. See Britain Great(er) Vehicle. See Mahāyāna Great Promulgation Campaign, 109 Great Teaching Institute, 6, 7, 109, 201 Great Treatise on the Perfection of Wisdom, 45, 62n21 Guide to the Practice of the Four-Part Vinaya, 46 Guizot, François, 183, 185, 191n12 Gunjin chokuyu. See Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors haibutsu kishaku, 1, 4–5, 11, 18, 30n6, 99, 121 Hanseikai, 66, 192 –194, 198nn2–3, 199 Hanseikai zasshi, 26, 72n4, 192–199 Hara Tanzan, 23, 155–162, 163, 170n5, 184 Harada Genryū, 157

286 Haraguchi Shinsui, 201 Harivarman, 175–176 Hayashi Makoto, 3, 10, 16, 30n3, 31n9 Heaven and Hell, 80, 117, 145 hell. See Buddhist hells heretical views, 4–5, 69, 75–76, 78, 80–81, 91–92, 110, 133, 136, 137, 166, 171n7, 175, 179n17, 235, 249 Higashi Honganji. See Ōtani branch Higuchi Ryūon, 21, 109–119 Hīnayāna, 138, 167, 207, 211, 236 Hirata Atsutane, 114, 118n15 historical criticism, 164 Hokkeshū. See Nichiren sect Honchō monzui. See Literary Essence of Our Land Honganji. See Honganji branch; Ōtani branch Honganji branch, 52, 54–55, 61n3, 74, 88–89, 110, 156, 173, 179n21, 184–185, 192, 201, 232–233 Hōshaku kyō. See Sutra of the Heap of Jewels Hōshi sōdan, 25, 185 Huayan. See Kegon Ikeda Eishun, 15, 190n5 Imagawa Kakushin, 74 imperialism, 232–233, 262n3, 275n14 Imperial Rescript on Education, 9, 264n18 Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors, 264 Imperial University. See Tokyo University Inaba Masamaru, 74 India, 24, 27–28, 49n10, 91, 112, 117, 119n23, 138, 155–162, 166, 173, 175, 186, 207, 226, 232–234, 237, 240nn11–12, 261, 266–267, 268, 271, 274n11 inga. See karmic law of cause and effect inmyōron. See Buddhist logic Inoue Bunchū, 84n9 Inoue Enryō, 23, 51, 64, 73–75, 134, 156, 163–171, 267 Inoue Kowashi, 8, 31n16

Index

interpretation, 14, 19, 68, 74, 76–77, 79–80, 107n10, 145, 166–167, 176, 178n14, 225–226, 255–256 Ishikawa Shuntai, 25, 65 Islam, 2 Itō Hirobumi, 201 Jesus, 4, 122, 127, 166, 167, 225, 238 Jiji shinpō, 268 Jingikan. See Department of Divinity jinja. See Shinto jiriki. See Self-power Jiun, 18, 40, 48n3, 133 Jiyū minken undō. See Freedom and People’s Rights Movement Jōdo Shinshū. See True Pure Land sect Jōdoshū. See Pure Land sect Jōjitsuron, 175 Joshi bungei gakusha, 26, 202 journals. See media Jūzenkai (Society for the Ten Virtuous Precepts), 132–133 Kamakura period, 2, 139n6, 179n20, 250n8, 260, 264n23 Kamura Isota, 224 kanchō seido. See sectarian administrator system Kaneko Daiei, 75, 84n7 Kanmuryōjukyō. See Amitāyurdhyāna Sūtra Kannon, 269, 275n15 Kanrenkai, 73–86 karmic law of cause and effect, 46–47, 50n17, 50n19, 80–81, 93, 98, 100, 131, 134, 153, 169–170, 187, 188, 244–245, 248, 250n5, 250n9 karmic recompense. See karmic law of cause and effect Kasahara Kenju, 74, 172 Kashiwahara Yūsen, 15 Katō Hiroyuki, 156, 160 Katsura Tarō, 250n4 Kawaguchi Ekai, 29, 266–276 Kegon, 234, 235, 236, 239n10 Kegonkyō. See Avataṃsaka Sūtra Keiikai (Warp and Woof Society), 66 Kido Takayoshi, 184, 201



Index

Kirishima Shōichi, 224 Kiyozawa Manshi, 15, 19, 73–86, 173, 177n8, 221, 224, 228n3 Kiyū Dōjin, 21–22, 120–130 koan, 18, 178n15, 251n12 kokka shintō. See Shinto kokkyō. See state religion Kokuchūkai (Pillar of the Nation Society), 212, 214 kokugaku, 18, 110 kokutai, 29, 138, 198n9, 212 Komazawa University, 156 kōninkyō. See officially recognized religion Kōnyo, 89 Korea, 13, 16, 27, 29, 40, 121, 240, 242–243, 250n7, 253, 261 Kosawa Heisaku, 223 Kūkai, 2, 137, 139n6, 140n10, 140n17, 234 Kyōbushō. See Ministry of Instruction kyōdōshoku, 5–8, 109, 111, 117n8 Kyōgyōshinshō, 74, 77, 221 kyōhō, 43, 49n7, 90, 100, 111–112, 118n13, 215 Kyōiku chokugo. See Imperial Rescript on Education Kyōkai jigen, 19, 73–86 kyōsō hanjaku. See classification of teachings Kyoto School, 165 Kyōzon zasshi, 25 Kyūdō, 222, 223, 228n4 laity, 7, 20, 26, 27, 29, 31, 40–41, 44–47, 50n17, 51, 54–57, 60, 64–65, 99, 103–105, 132, 184, 185, 198n9, 212–214, 222–223, 251, 270 Lamaism. See Tibet Late Mito School, 18, 121 League of United Buddhist Sects, 4, 132 lecture, 25, 64, 185, 190n10 Lesser Vehicle. See Hīnayāna Lévi, Sylvain, 14 Light of Asia, The, 58–59, 63n25 Literary Essence of Our Land, 47, 50n20 Lotus sect. See Nichiren sect

287

Lotus Sūtra, 97–98, 100–105, 107n5, 107n10, 107n12, 207, 212–214, 217, 218, 220 Lunyu. See Analects Maeda Eun, 14 Mahāyāna, 24, 62n18, 81, 103, 138, 164, 166, 167, 172–174, 177, 178n10, 195, 211n16 Manchuria, 29, 252n22, 253–254, 261–262, 264n27 mappō, 98, 103, 107n7, 213, 235, 240n15 Maruyama Masao, 15 Marxism, 3, 15, 17, 223 Matsuyama Matsutarō, 193 media, 26, 64, 143, 184–185, 190n8, 192–197, 198n9. See also individual journal titles medicine, 128, 137, 155–159, 160n8, 161n9 Meiji Constitution. See Constitution of the Empire of Japan Meiji Restoration, 3, 14, 39, 98, 131, 140n11, 231, 260, 261 Meikyō shinshi, 25, 185, 274n10 Meirokusha, 21, 25, 183–184 Meiroku zasshi, 183–185 merit. See karmic law of cause and effect Miki Kiyoshi, 223 Ministry of Education, 6, 48n6, 163 Ministry of Instruction, 6, 48n6, 109–119, 232 mission: Buddhist in Asia, 27, 29, 54, 212, 233, 235, 253, 264n27, 273; Christian, 1, 19, 25–26, 35n66, 51, 54, 65, 90, 120–121, 165, 176n1, 192, 200, 210n10, 243, 246–247, 249, 252n22 Mito School. See Late Mito School Mitsui Kōshi, 223 mixed residence, 9, 65 modernity, 1–3, 10–11, 15–17, 22, 30, 75, 97–108, 128–129n1, 132, 143–146, 157, 160n4, 164–165, 172, 177n6, 177n9, 183, 194–195, 201–203, 213–214, 219n3, 222–226, 241, 266–267

288

Index

monasticism. See precepts morality. See ethics Mori Arinori, 183–184 Motoori Norinaga, 259, 264n25 Mt. Sumeru, 27, 146, 149, 150, 151 Müller, Friedrich Max, 172, 177n6, 266 Murakami Senshō, 24, 73, 156, 172–179 naichi zakkyō. See mixed residence Nakanishi Ushirō, 7, 19, 51–63, 64, 72n3, 75 Nanjō Bun’yū, 14, 62n17, 74, 172–173, 266–267 nationalism, 11, 19–20, 87–96, 98–105, 131–142, 200, 253–265 Natsume Sōseki, 254 Nepal, 268 New Buddhism, 14, 15, 19, 51–63, 64–72, 179n20 newspaper. See media Nichiei tsūshō kōkai jōyaku. See AngloJapanese Treaty of Commerce and Navigation Nichiren, 2, 13, 20, 26, 97–108, 175, 179n18, 212–213, 215, 219n5 Nichirenism, 212–220 Nichiren sect, 20, 97–99, 212–213 Nihon Kindai Bukkyōshi Kenkyūkai. See Society for the Study of Modern Japanese Buddhist History Nihon shoki, 138, 140n11, 140n13, 257, 263n14, 263n17 Niijima Jō, 26 nikujiki saitai, 131, 212. See also precepts nirvāṇa, 80, 101, 107nn6–7, 107n12, 245, 246 Nirvana Sūtra, 156, 162n13 Nishi Amane, 184 Nishi Honganji. See Honganji branch Oath in Five Articles, 264n27 Ōbaku. See Zen sect Ōbei no bukkyō, 193 officially recognized religion, 65, 71 Ogawa Taidō, 20, 97–108 Ogurusu Kōchō, 28, 231–240, 273n1 Olcott, Henry S., 23, 59, 63n26,

158–159, 160n5, 161n10, 161n12, 162n15 Ono Azusa, 185 On the Mind of the Bodhisattva, 137 orientalism. See philology orthodoxy, 26–27, 76–78, 80–82, 172–173, 178n12, 179n21, 222, 238 Ōsaka mainichi shinbun, 268 Ōtani branch, 18, 73–75, 82, 84n8, 110, 117n7, 163, 173, 179n21, 221, 224, 231–232 Ōtani Kōson, 52, 184 Ōtani Kōzui, 233 Ōtani University, 84n8, 173, 179n21 Other-power, 56, 62n19, 93–94, 167, 175 Ōtsuka Hisao, 15 Oxford University, 74 Ōuchi Seiran, 7, 14, 25, 183–191 Ōzu Tetsunen, 88, 90, 184, 201 Pali, 24, 146, 266, 267 pan-Asianism, 17, 29, 214, 232–233. See also East-Asia League Movement Pantheon Dispute, 7–8, 31n15 Perry, Matthew C., 87–88, 90, 95n6, 163 philology, 2–3, 10–14, 16, 17, 19, 41, 64, 69, 74, 121, 134, 183, 191n16, 266, 267, 274n6, 275n21. See also Pali; Sanskrit philosophy, 1, 17, 22–25, 29, 51, 56, 58–60, 74, 80–81, 134, 143–154, 155–162, 163–171, 172–179, 194, 221, 223, 224, 236, 267 physiology. See medicine political rights. See rights precepts, 12, 18, 40–41, 43–46, 124, 129n7, 131–135, 191n17, 192, 212, 235, 236, 238, 243, 244, 247–249. See also ethics Protestantism. See Christianity public lecture. See lecture Pure Land, 12, 40, 56, 76, 93–94, 167, 175, 218, 227–228, 250n8, 269, 275n15 Pure Land sect, 18, 40, 62n19, 74, 98, 121, 138, 167, 175, 192, 221, 243 Putixin lun. See On the Mind of the Bodhisattva



Index

Qing dynasty, 233, 265n30, 274n9 Rai San’yō, 88, 260, 264n28 reason, 24, 58, 69, 79, 80, 82, 101, 102, 145, 147, 165–167, 174, 175, 196, 215 rebirth, 68, 76, 80, 93, 151, 248–249 recompense. See karmic law of cause and effect Reformation. See Christianity: Protestantism Reichikai zasshi. See Ryōchikai zasshi religion, concept of, 6–7, 9–10, 13, 16–17, 19, 21, 23, 24, 28, 43, 49n7, 51–63, 64–72, 80–81, 90–93, 109– 119, 123, 131–140, 156, 157–158, 160, 161n11, 163–171, 177, 194, 201, 213–214, 224, 266–270 Rennyo, 93–94, 96nn8–9 Restoration Shinto, 18, 109, 114 retribution. See karmic law of cause and effect rights, 54, 204, 208–209, 225, 240n13. See also Freedom and People’s Rights Movement Rinzai. See Zen sect Risshō ankoku ron, 101, 104, 215 Ritsu School, 175, 234 Russo-Japanese War, 253–254, 261 Ryōchikai zasshi, 193, 200, 202, 210 ryōsai kenbo, 202. See also gender Sada Kaiseki, 23, 143–154 Sagely Path, 76, 167 Saichō, 2, 27, 105, 179n20, 234 saijin ronsō. See Pantheon Dispute saisei itchi, 5–6 Sakaino Kōyō, 15 sakoku, 268–269 Sakurai Gichō, 193 Śākyamuni, 27, 29, 40, 44–46, 49n11, 50nn18–19, 55–56, 58–60, 63n25, 98, 100–105, 107nn6–7, 107n12, 112, 136, 157, 164, 166, 170, 171n8, 172–176, 177n7, 186, 215, 218, 219n8, 220, 226, 234, 237, 248, 252n17, 267 saṃsāra. See rebirth

289

sandao. See three teachings sanjō kyōsoku. See Three Articles of Instruction sankyō. See three teachings Sanskrit, 74, 139n7, 210n8, 242, 266–268, 274n3, 276n28 Sarat Chandra Das, 267 Satō Issai, 155 Satyasiddhi-śāstra. See Jōjitsuron scholarship. See philology schools. See education science, 1, 2, 7–8, 12, 15, 17, 22–24, 29, 59–60, 74, 80–81, 143–154, 155–162, 163–171, 172–179, 188, 194, 214, 217, 224, 236 sectarian administrator system, 8 sectarian studies, 2, 74, 75, 76–78, 80–81 Sect Shinto. See Shinto secular, 1, 4, 10, 21, 41, 55, 58, 80–81, 105, 118n14, 127, 131–132, 134, 136, 164, 192–193, 207, 214, 215, 223, 247 secularization, 1, 10 Seikyō jihō, 222 Seishinshugi movement, 15, 74 Self-power, 62n19, 167 senkyōshi (propagandists), 5–6, 31n11, 109 separation of religion and state, 21 shakubuku, 98–99, 101–103, 106n2, 107n6 Shaku Sōen, 29, 253–265 Shaku Unshō, 7, 22, 131–l42 Shibunritsu gyōjishō. See Guide to the Practice of the Four-Part Vinaya Shimaji Mokurai, 7, 11, 21, 25, 26, 107n14, 185, 200–211, 219n3 Shinbukkyō (journal), 14, 19 Shinbukkyō Movement. See New Buddhism Shin Bukkyōto Dōshikai. See New Buddhism Shinbun zasshi, 184 shinbutsu bunri. See Shinto Shingon sect, 2, 22, 28, 40, 132–133, 136, 137, 139nn6–7, 139n9, 140n17, 175, 211n14, 242, 243, 244, 248, 250n8

290

Index

shinkoku/shinshū (Land of the Gods), 91, 92, 94, 113, 118n12 shinnyo. See Thusness Shinran, 2, 74, 77, 213, 221 Shinshū. See True Pure Land sect Shinshū University, 84nn8–9 Shinto, 5, 264n17; as competition for Buddhism, 4, 5, 15, 22, 25, 113–117, 118n12, 121, 124; priests, 8, 47n1, 110–111, 116–117; Sect Shinto 7–10, 12, 18, 20–21; separation of Shinto and Buddhism, 14, 42, 47n1, 51, 109–111, 132–133, 201; shrines, 5, 8, 10, 12, 47, 132 Shintō jimukyoku, 8 Shirakawa movement, 74, 75, 83n1, 84n9 shōdō. See Sagely Path shogun. See Tokugawa period shōju, 98, 101–103, 107n6 Shoku Nihongi, 259, 262n7 Shoshū dōtoku kaimei. See League of United Buddhist Sects Shōtoku Taishi, 113 shrines. See Shinto Shrine Shinto. See Shinto Shugendō, 18–19 Shumisen. See Mt. Sumeru Siddhartha. See Śākyamuni Sino-Japanese Amity Treaty (Nisshin shūkō jōki), 28, 232 Sino-Japanese War, 9, 28, 233, 241, 250, 261 Smaller Sukhāvatīvyūha Sutra, 62n17 Smaller Vehicle. See Hīnayāna social reform, 17, 22–27, 29, 183–191, 192–199, 200–211, 212–220, 221–228 Society for the Study of Modern Japanese Buddhist History, 16 sonnō jōi, 87, 94, 184 Sōtō. See Zen sect South Manchurian Railway, 253–254, 262 Sri Lanka. See Ceylon state religion, 7, 22, 23, 71, 132–139 State Shinto. See Shinto Sugamo Prison, 65 superstition, 18–19, 59–60, 64, 66, 68, 69–71, 164–165, 170n4, 175, 176

sutra, 46, 56–57, 67, 98, 103, 236, 244–245. See also individual sutras Sutra for Humane Kings, 91 Sutra of Past and Present Cause and Effect, 50 Sutra of the Heap of Jewels, 44–45 Suzuki, Daisetsu Teitarō, 165, 254 Taikyōin. See Great Teaching Institute Takakura Gakuryō, 18, 84n8, 110, 173, 231 Takakusu Junjirō, 173, 193 Takashima Shūhan, 88 Takeda Goichi, 222 Tanaka Chigaku, 11, 26–27, 212–220 Tanikawa Tetsuzō, 223 tariki. See Other-power temperance, 26, 192–199. See also Han­ seikai; Hanseikai zasshi Tendai, 105, 107n10, 155, 172, 179n20, 211n14, 235, 236, 243, 249 Tendai sect, 2, 97–98, 105 Tenjiku. See India tennō. See Emperor Tetsugakukai, 156, 163 Tetsugakukan, 164, 267 Tetsugaku zasshi, 163 Theosophy, 61n4, 62n24, 63n26, 161n12, 193, 274n11 Three Articles of Instruction, 6, 21, 109–119, 210n5, 232 three teachings, 21, 111, 113, 116, 122, 124–125, 237–238 Thusness, 56, 62n18, 168–170 Tiantai. See Tendai Tibet, 29, 235, 266–276. See also Dalai Lama Tōa renmei undō. See East-Asia League Movement Tokugawa period, 2–5, 11, 12, 16, 17, 18, 20, 28, 30n6, 39, 51, 57, 88, 91, 95n3, 98, 104, 106n5, 131–133, 135, 156, 191n17, 231, 260 Tokyo University, 23, 24, 74, 156, 158, 160, 163–164, 172–173, 221, 222, 223 Tomomatsu Entai, 14 Tōyō University, 164



Index

Triple Intervention, 242 True Pure Land sect, 2, 11, 13, 18, 20–21, 26, 52, 61n3, 61n10, 65, 89, 107n14, 110–112, 118n12, 163, 184, 192, 200, 221, 233, 243 Uchimura Kanzō, 9, 32n18 Ugai Tetsujō. See Kiyū Dōjin United Kingdom. See Britain University of Tokyo. See Tokyo University Urabe Kanjun, 84n9 Vasubandhu, 175–176 vinaya. See precepts war, 9, 15–16, 28, 75, 87, 89, 90, 91, 94, 125, 206, 226–227, 233, 239n1, 241–243, 248, 250n1, 250nn4–5, 250n15, 253–254, 260, 261, 262n4, 264n25 welfare. See social reform Williams, Channing Moore, 25–26 women. See gender women’s rights. See rights

291

World Parliament of Religions, 12, 61n3 World War I, 75, 239n1, 253 Xinhai Revolution, 253 Xunzi, 115, 118n17 Yamagata Genjō, 28, 241–252, 262n4 Yatsubuchi Banryū, 52 Yogācāra, 235 Yogācārabhūmi-śāstra. See Yugashijiron Yoshida Kyuichi, 2, 3, 15 Yoshida Shōin, 88, 89 Young Men’s Buddhist Association, 201– 202 Yugashijiron, 150, 175 Zen sect, 2, 8, 13, 18, 29, 98, 102, 121, 137, 138, 155–156, 175, 178n14, 184, 191n17, 231, 235, 240n17, 243, 246, 250n6, 251nn12–13, 253–256, 260, 262n2, 263n8, 263nn10–11, 263n13, 267. See also koan Zhiyi, 105, 107n10