"For twelve leagues, Ananda, around the Sala-Grove, there is no
spot in size even as the pricking of the point of the tip of a
hair, which is not pervaded by powerful spirits."
--The Book Of the Great Decease.
I
The truth that ancestor-worship, in various unobtrusive forms,
still survives in some of the most highly civilized countries of
Europe, is not so widely known as to preclude the idea that any
non-Aryan race actually practicing so primitive a cult must
necessarily remain in the primitive stage of religious thought.
Critics of Japan have pronounced this hasty judgment; and have
professed themselves unable to reconcile the facts of her
scientific progress, and the success of her advanced educational
system, with the continuance of her ancestor-worship. How can the
beliefs of Shinto coexist with the knowledge of modern science?
How can the men who win distinction as scientific specialists
still respect the household shrine or do reverence before the
Shinto parish-temple? Can all this mean more than the ordered
conservation of forms after the departure of faith? Is it not
certain that with the further progress of education, Shinto, even
as ceremonialism, must cease to exist?
Those who put such questions appear to forget that similar
questions might be asked about the continuance of any Western
faith, and similar doubts expressed as to the possibility of its
survival for another century. Really the doctrines of Shinto are
not in the least degree more irreconcilable with modern science
than are the doctrines of Orthodox Christianity. Examined with
perfect impartiality, I would even venture to say that they are
less irreconcilable in more respects than one. They conflict less
with our human ideas of justice; and, like the Buddhist doctrine
of karma, they offer some very striking analogies with the
scientific facts of heredity,--analogies which prove Shinto to
contain an element of truth as profound as any single element of
truth in any of the world's great religions. Stated in the
simplest possible form, the peculiar element of truth in Shinto
is the belief that the world of the living is directly governed
by the world of the dead.
That every impulse or act of man is the work of a god, and that
all the dead become gods, are the basic ideas of the cult. It
must be remembered, however, that the term Kami, although
translated by the term deity, divinity, or god, has really no
such meaning as that which belongs to the English words: it has
not even the meaning of those words as referring to the antique
beliefs of Greece and Rome. It signifies that which is "above,"
"superior," "upper," "eminent," in the non-religious sense; in
the religious sense it signifies a human spirit having obtained
supernatural power after death. The dead are the "powers above,"
the "upper ones,"--the Kami. We have here a conception resembling
very strongly the modern Spiritualistic notion of ghosts, only
that the Shinto idea is in no true sense democratic. The Kami are
ghosts of greatly varying dignity and power,--belonging to
spiritual hierarchies like the hierarchies of ancient Japanese
society. Although essentially superior to the living in certain
respects, the living are, nevertheless, able to give them
pleasure or displeasure, to gratify or to offend them,--even
sometimes to ameliorate their spiritual condition. Wherefore
posthumous honors are never mockeries, but realities, to the
Japanese mind. During the present year(1), for example, several
distinguished statesmen and soldiers were raised to higher rank
immediately after their death; and I read only the other day, in
the official gazette, that "His Majesty has been pleased to
posthumously confer the Second Class of the Order of the Rising
Sun upon Major-General Baron Yamane, who lately died in Formosa."
Such imperial acts must not be regarded only as formalities
intended to honor the memory of brave and patriotic men; neither
should they be thought of as intended merely to confer
distinction upon the family of the dead. They are essentially of
Shinto, and exemplify that intimate sense of relation between the
visible and invisible worlds which is the special religious
characteristic of Japan among all civilized countries. To
Japanese thought the dead are not less real than the living. They
take part in the daily life of the people,--sharing the humblest
sorrows and the humblest joys. They attend the family repasts,
watch over the well-being of the household, assist and rejoice in
the prosperity of their descendants. They are present at the
public pageants, at all the sacred festivals of Shinto, at the
military games, and at all the entertainments especially provided
for them. And they are universally thought of as finding pleasure
in the offerings made to them or the honors conferred upon them.
For the purpose of this little essay, it will be sufficient to
consider the Kami as the spirits of the dead,--without making any
attempt to distinguish such Kami from those primal deities
believed to have created the land. With this general
interpretation of the term Kami, we return, then, to the great
Shinto idea that all the dead still dwell in the world and rule
it; influencing not only the thoughts and the acts of men, but
the conditions of nature. "They direct," wrote Motowori, "the
changes of the seasons, the wind and the rain, the good and the
bad fortunes of states and of individual men." They are, in
short, the viewless forces behind all phenomena.
(1) Written in September, 1896.