This episode we talk about the first recorded instance of Buddhism--or at least the worship of the Buddha--in Japan, and we look at some of the politics and issues surrounding its adoption, as well as some of the problems in the story we have from the Chronicles.  We also look at what legend says happened to the oldest Buddhist image and where you can find it, today.  Hint: It is in a place that once hosted the Winter Olympics!

For more check out our podcast website:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-85

Rough Transcript:

 

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 85: The Buddha Comes to Japan.

Last couple episodes we’ve talked about Buddhism.  We talked about its origins in the Indian subcontinent, with the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the historical Buddha, and how those teachings spread out from India to Gandhara, and then followed the trade routes across the harsh deserts of the Tarim Basin, through the Gansu corridor, and into the Yellow and Yangzi River Valleys.  From there the teachings made it all the way to the Korean peninsula, and to the country of Baekje, Yamato’s chief ally on the peninsula.

This episode we’ll look at how Buddhism came to the archipelago and its initial reception there.  For some of this we may need to span several reigns, as we’ll be looking at events from early to late 6th century.  This is also about more than just religion, and so we may need to dive back into some of the politics we’ve covered up to this point as well.  Hopefully we can bring it all together in the end, but if it is a bit of a bumpy ride, just hang with me for a bit.

So let’s start with the official account in the Nihon Shoki, which we already mentioned two episodes ago: the first mention of Buddhism in the Chronicles.  The year was 552, or the 13th year in the reign of Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou.  That winter, during the 10th month—which was probably closer to December or January on a modern calendar—King Seongmyeong of Baekje had a special gift for his counterpart, the sovereign of Yamato.  By this time there are numerous accounts of gifts to Yamato, generally in conjunction with the Baekje-Yamato alliance and Baekje’s requests for military support in their endeavors on the peninsula, generally framed in the Yamato sources as centering on the situation of the country of Nimna.

In this case, the gift was a gilt-bronze image of Shakyamuni Buddha, several flags and umbrellas, and a number of volumes of Buddhist sutras.  King Seongmyeong sent a memorial explaining his intent:  “This doctrine” (aka Buddhism) “is amongst all doctrines the most excellent.  But it is hard to explain, and hard to comprehend.  Even the Duke of Zhou and Confucius had not attained to a knowledge of it.  This doctrine can create religious merit and retribution with appreciation of the highest wisdom.  Imagine a man in possession of treasures to his heart’s content, so that he might satisfy all his wishes in proportion as he used them.  Thus it is with the treasure of this wonderful doctrine.  Every prayer is fulfilled and naught is wanting.  Moreover, from distant India it has extended hither to the three Han, where there are none who do not receive it with reverence as it is preached to them.

“Thy servant, therefore, Myeong, King of Baekje, has humbly dispatched his retainer, Nuri Sacchi, to transmit it to the Imperial Country, and to diffuse it abroad throughout the home provinces, so as to fulfil the recorded saying of Buddha: ‘My law shall spread to the East.’ “

Upon receiving all of these things and hearing the memorial, we are told that the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, literally leapt for joy.  He thanked the envoys, but then put the question to his ministers as to how they should proceed.  Soga no Iname no Sukune, holding the position of Oho-omi, recommended that they should worship the statue of the Buddha.  After all, if all of the “Western Frontier lands” were worshipping it, then should Yamato really be left out?

On the other side of the argument were Mononobe no Okoshi as well as Nakatomi no Kamako.  They argued against stopping the traditional worship of the 180 kami of Heaven and Earth and replacing it with worship of some foreign religion.

With this split decision, Ame Kunioshi decided to have Soga no Iname experiment, first.  He told him to go ahead and worship the image and see what happens. And so Soga set it up at his house in Oharida, purified it, and, per Buddhist tradition, retired from the world.  He had another house, in nearby Mukuhara, purified and made into a temple.  Here he began to worship the Buddha.

Around that same time, there was a pestilence—a disease—that was in the land.  People were getting sick and some were dying.  This was likely not unprecedented.  Healthcare was not exactly up to our modern standards, and while many good things traveled the trade routes, infection and disease likely used them as pathways as well.  So diseases would pop up, on occasion.  In this instance, though, Mononobe no Okoshi and Nakatomi no Kamako seized on it as their opportunity.  They went to Ame Kunioshi and they blamed Soga no Iname and his worship of the Buddha for the plague.

Accordingly, the court removed the statue of the Buddha and tossed it into the canal at Naniwa, and then they burned down Soga no Iname’s temple—which, as you may recall, was basically his house.  As soon as they did that, though, Ame Kunioshi’s own Great Hall burst into flames, seemingly out of nowhere, as it was otherwise a clear day.

Little more is said about these events, but that summer there were reports from Kawachi of Buddhist chants booming out of the sea of Chinu near the area of Idzumi.  Unate no Atahe was sent to investigate and found an entire log of camphorwood that was quote-unquote “Shining Brightly”.  So he gave it to the court, where we are told they used it to have two Buddha images made, which later were installed in a temple in Yoshino; presumably at a much later date.

And then the Chronicles go quiet for the next couple decades, at least on the subject of Buddhism, but this is the first official account of it coming over, and there is quite a bit to unpack.  For one thing, the memorials and speeches once again seem like something that the Chroniclers added because it fit with their understanding of the narrative, including their insistence that Yamato was a fully fledged imperial state, and there is some fairly good evidence that King Seongmyeong’s memorial is clearly anachronistic.  But there are a few other things, and conflicting records on things such as dates and similar.

So first off, let’s acknowledge that there are too many things in the main narrative in the Chronicles that are just questionable, such as the sovereign “leaping with joy” at the chance to hear about Buddhism, and the fact that King Seongmyeong’s memorial apparently quotes a part of the sutra of the Sovereign Kings of Golden Light, known in Japanese as the Konkoumyou-saishou-ou-kyou, but that translation wasn’t done until 703, during the Tang dynasty, by the monk Yijing in the city of Chang’an.  While it would have been known to knowledgable monks like Doji, who may have been helping put the narrative together in 720, it is unlikely that it was in use during the 6th century, when the memorial is said to have been written.

In addition, there is question about the date that all of this supposedly happened.  The Nihon Shoki has this event taking place in 552, well into the reign of Ame Kunioshi.  However, there are at least two 8th century sources, roughly contemporary with the writing of the Nihon Shoki, the Gangoji Garan Engi and the Jouguuki, and both of these put the date at 538, a good fourteen years earlier, and in the era of Ame Kunioshi’s predecessor, Takewo Hiro Kunioshi, aka Senka Tenno.  The first of these, the Gangoji Garan Engi, is a record of the founding of the first permanent temple in Japan, Gangoji, aka Hokoji or, informally, Asukadera, which was founded by Soga no Iname’s heir, Soga no Umako.  More on the temple itself, later, but for now we want to focus on the historical aspects of this account, which mostly corroborate the story, talking about Soga no Iname’s role in receiving the image and enshrining it, as well as the early conflict between the Soga clan and their rivals.  The other source, the Joguki, focuses on the life of Shotoku Taishi, aka Prince Umayado, who will become a major subject of our narrative at the end of the 6th and early 7th centuries.  Not only is he considered the father of Japanese Buddhism, but he had strong connections to the Soga family.  Today, most scholars accept the 538 date over the 552 date when talking about Buddhism’s initial arrival into the islands

 

If the Chroniclers did move the event from 538 to 552, one has to wonder why.  This isn’t a simple matter of being off by 60 years, and thus attributable to a mistake in the calendrical sexagenary zodiac cycle of stems and branches, so there must have been something else.  One suggestion is that the date conflicted with the chronology that had already been set for the sovereigns.  538 is during the reign of Takewo no Ohokimi, aka Senka Tenno, but what if succession was not quite as cut and dried as all that?  What if Ame Kunioshi no Ohokimi had his own court and was in some way ruling at the same time as his half-brothers, Magari no Ohine and Takewo no Ohokimi? They were from different mothers, and thus different factions at court.  Ame Kunioshi was young, so it was possible that there were rival lineages attempting to rule, or even some kind of co-ruler deal hearkening back to more ancient precedent.  Some even theorize that Magari no Ohine and Takewo Hiro Kunioshi were simply fictional inserts to help span the period between Wohodo and Ame Kunioshi.

Whatever the reason, this theory suggests that it would not have happened in the 13th year of Ame Kunioshi’s reign, but that his reign started in 526, rather than 540.  An intriguing hypothesis, but one that begs the question of whether everything in the reign would then need to be shifted to account for that.  Given that there are a few attributable events noted that fit with outside sources as well, that doesn’t seem quite as plausible without some very conscious efforts to change the timeline.

Another thought is that the compilers weren’t sure exactly when this event happened, but given Ame Kunioshi’s reputation and long reign, they chose his reign to place it in because it just fit.  I suspect that this happened more than once, with people more likely attributing past events to well-remembered sovereigns.  If this is the case, then when searching for a date they may have just chosen one that seemed auspicious.  In this case, 552 CE was, in some reckonings, an important year in Buddhist history, as there were those who say it as the beginning of the age of “mappou”, the “End of the Law” or perhaps the “Latter days of the Law”.

This definitely is an intriguing theory, and resonates strongly.  For most of Japanese history, the idea that we are in this period of “mappo” has had a strong influence, and to a certain extent it is kind of an apocalyptic view of things.  The idea of mappo is that while the Buddha was alive, his teachings were fresh and available to all living things.  However, after his death, his teachings had to be remembered and passed on.  Even with the advent of writing, the meaning and understanding of his teachings, and thus an understanding of dharma, would also atrophy.  Different translations, changes in meaning, and just bits and pieces lost to time would mean that for the first 500 to 1,000 years, the Buddha’s disciples would keep things well and the meaning would be protected, but in the next 500 to 1,000 years things would decline, but still be pretty close to the truth.  Then – and this is when the period of “mappo” starts - things would really start to decline, until finally, about 5,000 to 10,000 years later—or about 1,000 to 12,000 years after the time of the historical Buddha—things would break down, factions would be fighting one another, and eventually everyone would have forgotten the dharma entirely.  It was only then that there would come a new Buddha, Miroku or Maitreya, who would once again teach about the dharma and how to escape suffering, and the whole cycle would start again.

The year 552 would have coincided, according to some estimates, with 1,000 years since the time of Siddhartha Gautama, and so it would have had particular significance to the people of that time, particularly if you counted each of the first two Ages as 500 years each, meaning that the word of the Buddha, that his teachings would spread to the East, would have been completed just as we entered the latter days of the Law.

Regardless of the time—and, as I said earlier, 538 is the more accepted date—the general events described – the statue, the offer of Soga to experiment, and the resulting events - are usually agreed to, although even here we must pause, slightly and ask a few questions.

First off, was this truly the first time that Buddhism had ever shown up in Japan?  The answer to that is probably not.  There had been many waves of immigrants that had come over to Japan from the peninsula, and even if only a small handful of them had adopted the new religion before coming over it is likely that there were pockets of worshippers.  Later, we will see that there are people in Japan who are said to have had prior experience as a monk, or who had their own Buddhist images.  These images were probably used by people in their homes—there is no evidence of any particular temples that had been built, privately or otherwise, and so there is no evidence that we have any active monks or nuns in the archipelago, but who knows what was going on in communities outside of the elite core?  There were plenty of things that were never commented on if it wasn’t directly relevant to the court.

Furthermore, with all of the envoys that had been to Baekje, surely some of them had experience with Buddhism.  And then there were the envoys *from* Baekje, who no doubt brought Buddhist practices with them.  So there was likely some kind of familiarity with the religion’s existence, even if it wasn’t necessarily fully understood.

The second point that many people bring up is the role of the sovereign, Ame Kunioshi, or whomever was in charge at the time that the first image came over.  While the Nihon Shoki attempts to portray a strong central government with the sovereign at its head, we’ve already seen how different households had arisen and taken some measure of power for themselves.  At the end of the 5th and into the early 6th century, the Ohotomo and Mononobe houses were preeminent, with Ohotomo Kanamura taking on actions such as negotiating dealings with the continent and even manuevering around the Crown Prince.  The Mononobe wielded considerable authority through their military resources, and now, the Soga appeared to ascendant.  It is quite possible that the idea of the sovereign giving any sort of permission or order to worship Buddhism is simply a political fig leaf added by the Chroniclers.  The Soga may have been much more independent in their views and dealings.  To better understand this, let’s take a look at the uji family system and the Soga family in particular.

Now the Nihon Shoki paints a picture as though these noble uji families were organic, and simply part of the landscape, descending from the kami in the legendary age, with lineages leading down to the present day, although there is some acknowledgment that the earliest ancestors did not necessarily use the family names until a later date.  For much of Japanese history, the concept that these family, or uji, were one of the core building blocks of ancient Japanese political and cultural spheres is taken as a matter of course.  However, in more modern studies, this view has been questioned, and now the prevailing view is that these families are somewhat different.  In fact, the uji are likely just as much an artificial construct as the corporate -Be family labor groups.

According to this theory, early on people were associated with local groups and places.  Outside of the immediate family, groups were likely held together by their regional ties as much as anything else.  Names appear to be locatives, with ancient titles indicating the -hiko or -hime of this or that area.

Some time in the 5th century, Yamato—and possibly elsewhere in the peninsula—began to adopt the concept of -Be corporate groups from Baekje.  We talked about this back in Episode 63, using the Hata as a prime example of how these groups were brought together.  More importantly, though, was that each of these -Be groups reported to someone in the court, sometimes with a different surname.  These were the uji, created along with the -Be to help administer the labor and work of running the state.  They were essentially arms of the state itself, in many ways.  The kabane system of titles emphasizes this, with different families having different ranks depending on what they did, whether locally, regionally, or at the central court.  Some of these titles, like -Omi and -Kimi, were likely once actual jobs, but eventually it came to represent something more akin to a social ranking.

There have been some questions and emails asking for a bit more in depth on this, and I’d really like to, but I’m afraid that would be too much for now.  At the moment I want to focus more on the uji, particularly on those at the top - the uji with the kabane of either Omi or Muraji, as these are the ones most likely to be helping to directly run the government.  They even had their own geographical areas within the Nara basin, and elsewhere, that were uji strongholds.  The Hata had areas near modern Kyoto, the Mononobe clearly had claims to land around Isonokami, in modern Tenri, and the Soga clan had their holdings in the area of modern Asuka and Kashihara city.  At the very least, that is where Soga no Iname’s house was—in Mukuhara and Oharida, both located in the modern area of Asuka, which will become important in the future.

It wasn’t just the landholdings that were important, though.  Each uji had some part to play in the functioning of the government.  In many cases it was the production or control of a particular service, such as the Hata and silk weaving, or the Mononobe and their affinity with all things military.  For the Soga, they appear to have had a rather interesting portfolio.

Traditionally, the Soga family is said to trace its lineage back to Takechi no Sukune, the first Oho-omi back in the time of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime and Homuda Wake no Ohokimi—see episode 46 for more on him.  That lineage is likely fabricated, however, and the earliest actual evidence for the family may be from the Kogoshui, where we are told that Soga no Machi was put in charge of the Three Treasuries.  These were the Imikura, or sacred treasury; the Uchikura, or royal household treasury; and the Ohokura, the government treasury.  This seems like quite the position of responsibility, and it would fit with some of what we see later as the Soga are involved in helping set up Miyake, the various royal storehouses across the land that acted as Yamato court administrative centers for the purposes of collecting goods and funneling them to the court, as well as keeping an eye on the local regions.  Although here I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t also note that the “Three Treasuries”, or “Sanzou” is one way to translate the Tripitaka, and given the Soga’s role, I don’t think I can entirely ignore that point.

So the Soga family had experience with administration, and specifically they were dealing with a variety of different goods produced in different regions.  If that is the case, then their authority did not necessarily derive from the standard uji-be constructed familial connections, but rather they were deriving positional authority from the central government itself.  This may seem like common sense to us, but in the world of ancient Yamato, where family connections were everything, this may have been something new and innovative—and very in keeping with various continental models of administration.  It is quite likely that the Soga were dealing with some of the latest innovations in government and political authority, which would also have opened them up to the possibility of new ideas.

In addition, their position meant they likely had wide-ranging contacts across the archipelago and even onto the peninsula.  The Soga themselves have connections to the peninsula in the names of some of their members, such as Soga no Karako, where “Karako” can be translated as a “Son of Kara” or a “Son of Gaya”, possibly referring to their origins, and Soga no Kouma, where “Kouma” is a general term for Goguryeo, and so quite possibly indicates a connection with them as well.  On top of that, there is a now-out-of-favor theory that once suggested that Soga no Machi might be the same as Moku Machi, an important Baekje official in the late 5th century.  While that has been largely discredited, the fact that “Machi” is possibly of Baekje origin cannot be entirely overlooked.

Then there are a series of notes in the Nihon Shoki, particularly surrounding the area of Shirai, in the land of Kibi.  These start in 553, just one year after Soga no Iname’s failed attempt to launch a Buddhist temple, at least according to the Nihon Shoki’s record of events.  It is a relatively simple note, but it mentions how Soga no Iname made a man by the name of Wang Jinnie the “Funa no Fubito”, or “Recorder of Ships”, and put him in charge of the shipping tax—all at the behest of the sovereign, of course.

Later, in 555, Soga no Iname went with Hozumi no Iwayumi no Omi to Kibi, where they consolidated five districts, or agata, under the administration of a single administrative Miyake in Shirawi.  Later, in 556, he would go back to Kibi and establish a Miyake in Kojima, putting in place Katsuraki no Yamada as the Tazukai, or “rural rice field governor”.  That same year he and others went to the Takachi district in Yamato and established the Miyake of Ohomusa, or “Great Musa”, for immigrants from Baekje and then Womusa, or “Small Musa”, for immigrants from Goguryeo.

In 569, the person that Soga no Iname had put in charge of recording the ships, Wang Jinnie, had a nephew, Itsu—or possibly Danchin, depending on how you read it—go out to Shirawi to take a census.  This is the same Shirawi that Soga no Iname had helped establish in 555.  Itsu becomes the Shirawi no Obito, and in 574 we see Soga no Umako, Iname’s heir, heading out to Shirawi with an updated register for Itsu.

So, in short, the Soga family clearly is doing a lot of government administration, and particularly of the Miyake, which is the extension of the court authority into the rest of the archipelago.  On top of that, look at how often the names that are coming up in conjunction with what they are doing are referencing immigrant groups.  Even the Hozumi family are known at this point for their work on the peninsula, and we see the Soga heavily involved with the Wang family and their fortunes, not to mention Greater and Lesser Musa and the Baekje and Goguryeo individuals there.  Wang Jinnie will have even more of a part to play, but we’ll hold onto that for later.

Given everything we can see about how they are operating, is it any surprise that the Soga would advocate in favor of Buddhism?  I’d also note that, while other clans have clear connections to heavenly ancestors and kami whom they worshipped, it is unclear to me if the Soga had anything similar.  There is mention in the 7th century of the creation of a shrine to their titular ancestors, Takeuchi no Sukune and Ishikawa no Sukune, and today there is a shrine that is dedicated to Soga tsu Hiko and Soga tsu Hime—Basically just lord and lady Soga.  But there isn’t anything like the spirit of Futsunushi or Ohomononushi, let alone an Amaterasu or Susano’o.

Why is that important?  Well, prior to the 6th century, a lot of clans claimed authority from the ritual power they were perceived to wield, often related to the prestige of their kami.  One of the ways that Yamato influence had spread was through the extension of the Miwa cult across the archipelago, and there were even members of the Himatsuribe and the Hioki-be, basically groups of ritualists focused on sun worship, which upheld the royal house.  The Mononobe controlled Isonokami shrine, where they worshipped their Ujigami, Futsu-mitama, the spirit of the sound of the sword.  And then there were the Nakatomi, who haven’t had much to do in the narrative so far, but we know that they were court ritualists, responsible for ensuring that proper rituals were carried out by the court for the kami to help keep balance in the land.

The dispute between the Soga and the Mononobe and Nakatomi is presented as a struggle between a foreign religion and the native kami of Japan—leaving aside any discussion, for now, about just how “native” said kami actually were.  This is, in fact, the primary story that gets told again and again, that the Mononobe and Nakatomi were simply standing up for their beliefs, sincerely believing that if too many people started worshipping foreign gods then it would supplant the worship already present in the islands.

And that may have been a genuine fear at the time, but I would suggest that it was only a small one.  What seems more apparent is that we are really looking at just an old fashioned power struggle.  Because what all of the information we have about the Soga distills down to is: they were the new kid on the block.  The Soga were the up and coming nobility.  They had connections with the continent and various immigrant groups.  That gave them access to new ideas and new forms of resources.  The Mononobe were built on a more traditionalist line.  They had been around, ever since at least Wakatake no Ohokimi, playing a significant role in things, alongside the Ohotomo.  The Mononobe were at their apex, claiming descent through their own Heavenly Grandson, and having held sway at court through numerous reigns at this point.   They represent, in many ways, the old guard.

Worship of a fancy new religious icon—effectively a new kami—threatened to give the Soga even more power and sway.  They already had control of the three treasuries, if the Kogoshui is to be believed, and likely had a rather impressive administrative apparatus.  Soga no Iname had also ended up successfully marrying off two of his daughters to Ame Kunioshi, making him father-in-law to the current sovereign.  If he added to that a spiritual focus that people came to believe in, that would only enhance the Soga’s power and place in the hierarchy.

And what better way to taint all of that, and neutralize these upstarts, than to blame this new god for the plague and pestilence that was killing people.  We see it all too often, even today—when people are scared and when there are problems, the easiest people to scapegoat are the foreigners and the outsiders.  Those whom we do not see as “us”.  It was probably easy to turn the court against Buddhism, at least initially.  They threw the image in the canal and burned down the temple, and no doubt they were pleased with themselves.

But that was merely the opening salvo, and as we’ll see in the coming years, the Soga family were hardly done with Buddhism.  One can argue whether they were truly devout or if this was merely for political gain, but the Soga family tied themselves to this new foreign religion, for good or for ill, and they wouldn’t be pushed around forever.

When next we touch base on this topic we’ll look at Soga no Iname’s heir, Soga no Umako, and his attempts to start up where his father left off.  He would again clash with the Mononobe, and the outcome of that conflict would set the path for the next half a century.  It would also see Buddhism become firmly enmeshed with the apparatus of the state.  As this happens , we’ll also see the character of Buddhist worship in the archipelago change.  Initially, the Buddha was treated little differently from any other kami, and based on the way it is described, probably worshiped in a very similar manner.  However, as more sutras came to light and as more people studied and learned about the religion—and as more immigrants were brought in to help explain how things were supposed to work—Buddhism grew in the islands to be its own distinct entity.  In fact the growth of Buddhism would even see the eventual definition of “Shinto”, the “Way of the Gods”, a term that was never really needed until there was another concept for native practices to be compared against.

Before we leave off, there is one other story I’d like to mention.  It is tangential to our immediate discussion of Buddhism and the Soga, but I think you may find it of interest, nonetheless.  This is the story of just what happened—supposedly—to that first Buddhist icon that was tossed into the Naniwa canal.

Because you see, according to tradition, that gilt-bronze icon did not stay stuck in the mud and muck of the canal, nor did it just disappear.  Instead there is a tradition that it was found almost a century later.  The person who retrieved it was named Honda no Yoshimitsu, and from Naniwa he traveled all the way to Shinano, to the area of modern Nagano, and there he would found a temple in 642.  Another reading of his name, Yoshimitsu, is Zenko, and so the temple is named Zenkoji, and you can still go and visit it today. 

In fact, the main hall of Zenkoji is considered a national treasure, and it was featured prominently during the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, Japan.  It is a popular attraction for tourist both in Japan and from abroad, and if you get a chance I highly recommend going to see it.  On the street leading up to the temple entrance are many traditional shops that still sell various foods and traditional arts and crafts, and there are many intriguring features.  For example, there is a narrow walkway underneath the main temple that is completely dark, where you are meant to feel along the wall to try to find the key to enlightenment, a kind of physical metaphor of Buddhist teaching.

And of course there is the icon that Honda Yoshimitsu is said to have fished out of the canal.

According to the temple, the icon still exists, and many worshippers believe it to be the oldest extant Buddhist icon in Japan, even older than the icons at Horyuji.  However, there is one catch—nobody is allowed to see it.  Shortly after it was installed in the temple, the statue was hidden in a special container, or zushi, and it became what is known as a hidden Buddha.  This is a tradition particularly prevalent in Japan, where some Buddhas are hidden away and only brought out on very special occasions.  Some cynics might note that those occasions are often when the temple needs to raise funds.  As for this hidden Buddha, however, it has not been seen more than a handful of times since it was locked away in the 7th century.

Despite that, we know what it looks like—or at least what it is supposed to look like.  The image is said to be a triad, and though the Nihon Shoki claims it was an image of Shakyamuni, the central figure of the Zenkoji triad is actually the figure of Amida, aka Amithabha, as in the Pure Land sect of Buddhism.  Amida Nyorai is flanked by two attendants.  We know all of this because a copy of the Zenkoji image was made in the Kamakura period, and that image, said to be a faithful recreation of the original is also kept at Zenkoji.  While the original is kept hidden in the back, the replica, which is thought to have all of the miraculous powers of the original, sits in front, and is therefore called the Maedachi Honzon, basically the image standing in front, vice the original, the Gohonzon, the main image.

Except it gets even better, because the replica is *also* kept hidden away most of the time, and only revealed on special occasions, known as Gokaicho, or “opening of the curtain”, which occurs once every seven years.

The Zenkoji triad became extremely important in later centuries, and copies were made and installed in sub-temples throughout Japan.  Even today you may find a Zenkoji-style triad here or there, each one considered to have a spiritual tie back to the original, and some of them even have inscriptions confirming that they are, indeed, Zenkoji style triads

Of course, the big question remains: does the original image actually still exist, and is there any chance that it actually is as old as it claims to be?  There really is no good way of knowing.  Zenkoji is not offering to open up the zushi any time soon.  We do know a few things, however.  We know that the temple has burned down at least 11 times over the years, and the Gohonzon was rescued each time, or so they say.  There are some who claim that it still exists, but perhaps it is damaged.  If that is the case, how did they make the replica, though?

There was an inspection during the Edo period.  There was a rumor that it had been stolen, and so an Edo official was sent to check on the status.  They reported that it was still there, but crucially they never described actually laying eyes on the statue.  In one account where a monk did open the box it is said that their was a blinding light—kind of like the Ark of the Covenant in Indiana Jones but just overwhelming; no faces were melted, at least none that were reported.

The monks of Zenkoji, when asked how they know the image is still there, will point to the weight of the container, which, when lifted, is apparently considerable.  They say that is how they know it is still there.  Of course, a melted lump of metal might be the same weight as it was when it was full statue, as long as it didn’t lose any actual mass, so it is hard to tell if it is still in good condition.

Even with all of that, there is the question about the veracity of the original objects lineage to begin with.  Did Honda Yoshimitsu really just find *the* original statue?  And even if he did, how would he have known what it was?  Was there an inscription:  To Yamato, from Baekje, hugs and kisses?

I’ve yet to see anyone directly compare the purported replica with other statues, but I suspect that would be the route to at least check the age, but nobody seems to be saying that the style of the replica is blatantly wrong for a 6th or 7th century icon from the peninsula or by peninsular craftsmen.  Then again, there were plenty of local immigrants in the Naniwa area who could have potentially crafted an image.  Indeed, the area around modern Nagano even has traces of Goguryeo style burial cairns, possibly from immigrants settled out there to help with early horse cultivation, and so there is even the possibility that there were locals with the connections and skills to craft something.

If you really want to know more, there is an entire work by Donald McCallum, titled “Zenkoji and Its Icon”, on not just the icon but the entire worship that sprang up around it and caused copies to spread throughout the archipelago.

And that’s where we will leave off for this episode.  In the next couple of episodes I want to finish up some of the secular history of this reign, and look a little bit outside of Yamato and the evidence in the Chronicles as well.

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And that’s all for now.  Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.