[Illustration.]
Guardian Nio.
The Buddhist temples in Japan are for the most part built on a much
grander and more elaborate scale than those belonging to the Shinto
worship. The roofing is not of thatch, but of tiles; and instead of the
torii, the entrance is through a _Sammon_, or two-storied gateway, in the
recesses of which stand two huge figures of ferocious appearance. These
are called _Nio_, and their office is to guard the sacred precincts from
the approach of evil spirits. These images are commonly seen spotted all
over with pellets of paper. “A worshipper writes his petition on paper, or
better still, has it written for him by the priest, chews it to a pulp,
and spits it at the divinity. If, having been well aimed, the paper
sticks, it is a good omen.” Passing through the Sammon, and proceeding in
a straight direction—often between rows of votive stone-lanterns—the
visitor soon arrives at the two largest buildings of the temple group. One
of these is the _Hondo_, or main shrine; while the other may be either the
Hall of the Founder of the particular sect to which the Temple belongs, or
it may contain a colossal image of Amida, and be specially dedicated to
his worship. Sometimes, again, this second building is known as the
Refectory, from the spiritual nourishment supplied there in the form of
sermons, for which the preacher takes as his text some passage of the
Sutra, or, it may be, some saying of Confucius.(21) Removing our boots,
which we leave at the foot of the wooden steps, we ascend to the Hondo,
and, if need be, push aside the sliding-doors of paper-covered woodwork,
which afford access to the building. Should no service chance to be in
progress, a little company of priests, acolytes, &c., will probably be
found, seated on the matting with which the floor is covered,—engaged in
the perusal of book or newspaper, or chatting together over miniature cups
of tea, and, if it be winter-time, spreading their hands to receive the
grateful warmth of the hibachi.(22) Beside them, on the floor, is arranged
a miscellaneous assortment of sacred pictures, leaflets, candles,
incense-sticks, charms, and other articles; any of which may be purchased
by a very modest expenditure. As we enter, we observe that several pairs
of eyes are fastened on us in undisguised curiosity; but our low
salutation is promptly responded to, if indeed it has not been
anticipated, and one of the group will courteously come forward to supply
us with any assistance or information we require. Before the railing,
which encloses the sanctuary, two or three worshippers are kneeling in
prayer; and these also examine us for a while with close attention. Or, it
may be that at the time of our visit some religious function is
proceeding. If so, the clergy with their servers are found within the
chancel, clad in gorgeous yellow robes, and genuflecting now and again
before the images which stand above the richly-vested altar. Outside the
sanctuary rails, the congregation is assembled in greater or less numbers,
according to the importance of the day. Around is a profusion of lights
and flowers; while the air is fragrant with the fumes of incense. The
prayers, which the officiating priest recites in monotone, are in Pali, a
form of Sanskrit; and if an air of perfunctoriness pervades his devotions,
let it be remembered that every day, month after month, and year after
year, he may be found chanting these same litanies, of the significance of
which he has but the vaguest idea. Not, however, that he is without belief
in their efficacy; nay, it may be that his very ignorance of their meaning
causes the words he utters to have, in his eyes, a transcendent value.
Above the high altar, in seated posture on lotus-blossoms,(23) are three
colossal images, cunningly wrought and richly gilded, and bearing on their
countenances an expression of placid repose. Perhaps, it is the
_Triratna_, or Three Jewels, that these represent, the Trinity of Buddha,
the Law, and the Order. Or, possibly, this is Buddha, in his triple forms
of existence:—as Sakya-muni, the form under which he lived as man among
men; as Amitabha, his metaphysical existence in Nirvana; as
Avalokitesvara, his reflex in the world of forms, his spiritual son,
generated to propagate the religion established by him during his earthly
career. Or once again, these three images may portray the Buddhas of the
Past, Present, and Future:—Gautama who _was_, the historic founder of
Buddhism; Kwannon, or Avalokitesvara, the head of the present Buddhist
hierarchy, the Buddha who _is_; and Maitreya, or Meroku, the deliverer yet
_to come_, the rehabilitation of past Buddhas foretold by Sakya-muni. Now
and again one may meet with a Buddhist of superior intellectual
attainments, who would explain the acts of worship he offers to these
images, as signifying merely reverence for Gautama’s teaching; but to the
multitude, as has been seen already, the images represent distinct and
all-powerful deities. Indeed, the people are encouraged thus to regard
them by their ecclesiastical superiors; it being one of the methods of
Buddhism thus to adapt its teaching to the capacity of dense and ignorant
minds. And thus it comes about that a religion, commencing with
agnosticism, meets the “craving for divinity,” so deeply implanted in the
nature of our race, by passing into what is, practically, a deification of
humanity.
[Illustration.]
Pagoda at Nikko.
Leaving the Hondo, we next proceed to explore the grounds and remaining
buildings connected with the temple. This lofty _Pagoda_, for instance,
several stories high, is erected over some holy relic,—perhaps the
vitrified remains of the founder, after cremation. A little further on, we
come to the _Rinzo_, or Revolving Library, containing an entire set of the
Buddhist scriptures. As these consist altogether of some 6,700 or 6,800
large volumes, it is clearly impossible for any one person to read them
all. This, however, need not be regretted seeing that whatever merit might
be obtained by a complete perusal, is freely extended to all, who will
take the trouble to make this huge stand revolve; the structure being so
arranged that a single push is sufficient for the purpose! The Rinzo was
an invention of a Chinese priest, and is said to date from the sixth
century. Owing to their costliness they are rarely met with; and the only
two I remember seeing were at Asakusa, Tokio, and at Ikegami, the
head-quarters of the Hokkai sect. Elsewhere in the grounds we come upon
the _Shoro_, or Great Bell,—used not for summoning the faithful, but for
the purpose of invocation and worship;—the _Koro_, or Drum-tower; the
_Emado_, or “Ex-voto” Shed, the walls of which are covered with pictures,
charms, and other offerings; cisterns for the purpose of ceremonial
purification; a printing and publishing department; and, perhaps, a grotto
with ghastly representations of the sufferings endured in the Buddhist
hells. Usually, too, to be found in the sacred precincts, is a specimen of
the _Ficus religiosa_, or sacred tree, under which Sakya-muni attained his
enlightenment. At the rear of the temple buildings are situated the
priests’ apartments,—often a quadrangle enclosed by a colonnade,—the
reception-rooms of which are beautifully decorated with _kakemonos_. Here
the visitor is sometimes invited to a light repast of tea, cake, and
fruit; the priests waiting on him the while with the most courteous
attention. And here may I be permitted to say a word about the Buddhist
priests of Japan as I found them? They are commonly spoken of as lazy and
ignorant, mercenary and corrupt; and it is to be feared that with regard
to many, especially of the lower orders of the clergy, this witness is
true. But speaking of those with whom I came into direct contact—the
priests, for the most part, attached to the more important temples—I feel
bound to say, that the impression I formed of them was, on the whole, a
distinctly favourable one. With countenances often indicating close
spiritual application, they appeared to perform their sacred duties with
reverence and attention; while of the disinterested kindness and
hospitality I received at their hands, as well as of the courtesy and
patience with which they replied to my numerous questions, I would speak
in terms of grateful appreciation.
[Illustration.]
Plan Of Buddhist Temple At Ikegami, Near Tokio. (_Head-quarters of the
Hokkai or Nichiren sect._) The path to the left from the Entrance Gate
leads to the Main Temple; that to the right to the Founder’s Hall. To the
right of the plan are the Drum-tower and Pagoda. Behind the Main Temple is
the Rinzo or Revolving Library; and in the lower left-hand corner of the
picture is the Reliquary. The two small buildings in the foreground are
the Belfry and the Emado. In the background are the Priests’ Apartments
and Reception-rooms.
A visit to a Buddhist temple, however, can hardly fail to suggest to any,
who are at all familiar with the observances of the Roman ritual, a
comparison to which we have already referred,—I mean the striking
resemblance between the Buddhist ceremonies and such as have found place
in the Christian Church. The high-altar with its haloed statues, flowers,
candelabra, and ever-burning lamps; the side-altars, similarly adorned,
above one of which, it may be, is seen the image of Maia, the mother of
Gautama, bearing her infant-son in her arms; the priests, tonsured,
mitred, arrayed in their rich vestments, and attended by their acolytes;
the people, bending low in adoration, or telling their rosaries as they
pray; the tinkling of bells and the perfume of incense; the dim light of
the sanctuary, and the monotonous chant, in the unknown tongue, of the
litanies uplifted for living and for dead:—these are only some of the
points of correspondence with Roman Catholic observances which meet us in
almost every Buddhist temple. Indeed, to attempt to specify such
resemblances in detail would prove a laborious task. But while the
similarity to which I refer is far too close and remarkable to be
accounted for by mere coincidence, its explanation is by no means easy.
Some would solve the difficulty by referring to the unquestionable fact
that many of the ceremonies practised in the Christian Church are
adaptations of ancient heathen rites: a leading captive of captivity of
which, as it seems to me, Christianity has far more reason to be proud
than ashamed. But though the Buddhist observances are, without doubt, of
considerable antiquity, this explanation cannot be said to be adequate to
the requirements of the case. Far more satisfactory is the theory that
ascribes the phenomenon to an early contact of China with some form of
Christianity—probably Nestorianism—and to the readiness which Buddhism has
ever exhibited to extend its influence by a conformity to other faiths.
The problem, however, is one which we must, to a great extent, be
satisfied to leave unsolved; the most eminent authorities in Orientalism
having confessed themselves baffled. It is only the fact of the
resemblance that admits of no dispute.
[Illustration.]
A Buddhist Priest.
It is curious to notice the different effects produced by an observation
of the Buddhist ceremonial on the minds of Roman Catholic missionaries
upon their first arrival in the East. By some its likeness to their own
ritual has been regarded as a manœuvre of Satan, designed for the
hindrance of Christian truth; while others have regarded the resemblance
with satisfaction, as calculated to diminish the difficulties of their
work. Without entering further into this question, I may be allowed to
express the conviction that an elaborate ceremonial forms at any rate no
necessary factor of Christian work in Japan. So far from this being the
case, I was informed, on no prejudiced authority, that, the breach once
made with the old associations, converts are disposed to regard anything
tending even remotely to suggest them as more of a hindrance than a help;
and this view finds support in the large number of adherents gained by
several of the Protestant Missions, with whom anything in the way of
ceremonial is reduced to a minimum. On the other hand, must be remembered
the very successful work accomplished in Japan, alike by the Roman and
Orthodox Churches, whose combined total of some 65,000 adherents is more
than double that of the various Protestant sects,—the Churches of England
and America, with 4,000 members, not being included in this computation.
Hitherto, I have referred only to the resemblance outwardly existing
between the ceremonies and observances of Christianity and Buddhism. But
an extension of the comparison results in what is, at first sight, an even
more startling similarity between incidents recorded of Gautama Buddha,
and events in the life of Jesus Christ, as narrated in the Gospels. Thus,
we are told that Gautama was born of a virgin mother; that angels appeared
at his nativity; that an ancient seer prostrated himself before him, and
saluted him as one come down from heaven; that, as a child, he confounded
his teachers by the understanding he displayed, and the questions which he
asked; that, assailed by the Evil One(24) with the keenest
temptations,—including the offer of Sovereignty over all the world, if he
would renounce his mission,—he yet emerged victorious from all; that once,
being on a mountain, he was enveloped in a cloud of heavenly light; that
he went down into hell; and that he ascended into heaven. Indeed, the
Christian may be pardoned if, for the moment, he feels completely
staggered at all that he finds advanced on behalf of Sakya-muni; and if
his perplexity only begins to give place to relief, when he discovers that
there is absolutely no trace of such extraordinary coincidence in the
early Buddhist writings, and that there is no reason for supposing that
these alleged events in the life of Gautama were ever heard of until the
Christian era was already several centuries old.
We have now, as far as our limits permit, made an examination of Buddhism
with especial reference to Japan. But before leaving this part of our
subject, I would humbly, but very earnestly, submit the question, Is there
in Buddhism generally,—is there in Buddhism as it exists in Japan at the
present day,—nothing upon which Christianity may profitably fasten,
nothing to which Christianity may properly appeal? Is that great
proclamation of Christian tact, which, eighteen centuries ago, the Apostle
Paul delivered on the Areopagus at Athens, “Whom ye ignorantly worship,
Him declare I unto you,” one that cannot, more often than it does, find a
place on the lips of our missionaries of to-day? Is the position a useless
one to take, that both the faiths of Jesus Christ and of Buddha agree in
this, that either has for its object the amelioration of man’s lot, here
and hereafter, and his release from the curse of suffering; only, as we
believe, with this great difference, that the founder of Christianity was
possessed of resources to which Sakya-muni laid no claim? These are
questions which were constantly presenting themselves to my mind during my
visit to Japan; but they are questions also which I heard asked more than
once by men who had closely studied the whole subject and were deeply
interested in mission work. But whatever the true answer to these
questions be, of this we may be certain: that by no reckless denunciation
of a creed, of the very elements of which the denouncer is content to be
in ignorance, will any victory of Christ’s Cross be achieved. Be the
errors and shortcomings of Buddhism what they may,—and we must, to be
honest, pronounce them in our judgment to be many and great,—it is, at
least, a system of very great antiquity, in whose strength thousands of
millions of our fellow-creatures have lived and died, both better and
happier. Men cannot be expected lightly to abandon their allegiance to
such a faith as this, nor would it be to their credit if they did; while
in Christianity, even when faithfully represented, there is very much
calculated to perplex and estrange one who has been trained in the tenets
of Buddhism. Moreover, however little he may agree with them, the Buddhist
holds that the religious convictions of others are entitled to respect,
and that their feelings should never be wounded, if this can be avoided;
it is only natural that he, in his turn, should be quickly alienated by
unsympathetic treatment. I was told by an English resident of long
standing that infidelity is largely on the increase in Japan, especially
among the men of the upper and middle classes; and that among the causes
of this was certainly to be reckoned the contemptuous and merely
destructive attitude towards Buddhism, with which some—let us hope they
are the very few—would think to serve the cause of Jesus Christ. “Depend
upon it,” it was said to me, “it is irreligion that commonly succeeds to
the vacant place, not Christianity. Carlyle was right when he said,
‘Better even to believe a lie than to believe nothing.’ ” And Buddhism is
not all a lie!
“The perishing heathen.” Many of us have been revolted by such expressions
when heard at home. But it is only when one is living in the midst of the
people of whom they are spoken, that it is possible to realize the full
horror of their meaning. That men, women, and little children, who are
distinguished by so many good qualities,(25) and who—with, as we believe,
such immeasurably inferior opportunities—present, in many points, so
favourable a contrast to ourselves, should be condemned to a future of
hopeless and unending misery, for not believing that of which, it may be,
they have not even heard, or heard only in crude, distorted statement—can
any man _really_ think this, who recognizes the providence of a Father of
Love; nay, I will dare to say, of a Deity of bare Justice? And yet
language thus fearfully misrepresenting the Faith of Christ is still used
by some who are called by His name; and that it is used is known by the
people of Japan.(26)
But again. There is, I have observed, much in the scheme of Christianity
calculated to prove a stumbling-block to those who have been educated in
the doctrines of Buddhism. Let me proceed to state some of the
difficulties that would be experienced, some of the objections that would
be raised, by a Buddhist of a certain amount of intellectual capacity,
when confronted with the claims of the Christian Faith.
Thus, (_a_) _the Bible_. “We are unable,” the Buddhist would say, “to
recognize in your Old and New Testaments an inspired revelation. Why
should we accept your Scriptures, with all their alleged miracles and
supernatural occurrences, when you reject ours? Besides, you are not
agreed among yourselves as to inspiration, authenticity, translation,
interpretation. Some of you, again, are for diffusing the Bible broadcast,
others would keep it in the background. Again, the Christian doctrine of
immortality appears to us entirely absent from the pages of the Old
Testament; while even the Jews, ‘God’s chosen people,’ refuse to see in
the New Testament the fulfilment of the Old.”
(_b_) _The Old Testament._ “We cannot regard the story of Creation, as
given in the Book of Genesis, as anything more than a myth, containing a
germ of truth. Neither can we accept, as historically true, the story of
the temptation in the Garden of Eden. And yet, upon this is made to rest
your whole theory of the Fall, of Original Sin, and of Christian
Redemption. As for the history of the Jewish people, we can see in it
nothing but one long story of cruelty and bloodshed; how can a Creator, a
God of Love, be supposed to have permitted and approved such things?”
(_c_) _The Incarnation._ The whole doctrine of the Incarnation is full of
difficulty to the mind of an Oriental; _not_ because of its strangeness
and novelty, but owing to his very familiarity with stories of miraculous
birth in his own legends.
(_d_) _The Atonement._ “Why should Jehovah require the sacrifice of His
own Son?” This is a difficulty that would present itself with especial
force to the Buddhist; by whom all life is held sacred, and whom such
texts as “Without shedding of blood there is no remission,” fill with
repugnance. The explanation offered by Buddhists themselves of the
Christian doctrine of Atonement is, that its origin must be sought in the
fact that, from the most ancient times, the idea of sacrifice, and of
human sacrifice, has existed; and this explanation they go on to apply to
the Holy Eucharist.
(_e_) _Eternal Punishment._ “How,” it is asked, “is your doctrine of
Everlasting Punishment consistent with that of the Remission of Sins? And
how, on the other hand, is not your scheme of salvation ethically wrong,
if it allows people, after sinning all their lives, to be forgiven on
their death-beds, that so they may enter a Paradise, wherein good and bad
alike have a place?”
(_f_) _Faith and Belief._ “What right have you to ask us to believe
anything that does not accord with science and experience, when you have
no better opportunities of knowing than we?”
(_g_) _Christian Ethics._ “Some of these—e.g. the doctrine of the Sermon
on the Mount—we admit to be good; but they are not peculiar to
Christianity—our own teaching is very similar. In other of your ethics, we
see only an ignoble and selfish storing of treasure; it appears to us that
a good action, done for the sake of reward or gain, must entirely lose its
merit.”
(_h_) _Missionary Work._ “We do not claim that our religion is the only
way of salvation, but readily recognize the good points in other systems
as well. You, on the contrary, appear to hold that there is no other way
but your own; and indeed it is only on this supposition that we can
understand the strenuous efforts which you make to bring us to abandon our
religion for yours.”(27)
It forms no part of my purpose to discuss these objections; which, let me
add, are merely representative, and by no means exhaustive. With many of
them we are already familiar at home; and the Japanese, I would mention,
are fully aware of the unbelief prevalent in England, and well acquainted
with its arguments. Indeed, few English people, it is probable, have any
idea how closely their history and their literature are studied by nations
living at the other side of the globe, who are to them simply “the
heathen.” Some, again, of the above objections would seem to have been
suggested by imperfect and distorted statements of Christian truth. I have
thought it worth while to refer to them, in the hope that the fact of such
questions being raised may serve to impress upon us these two important
points:—(i) the need of missionaries, at the present day, being not only
men of holy and devoted lives, but also fully equal in intellectual
equipment and culture to our home clergy; and (ii) the fallacy of trusting
to the circulation of the Bible, as an instrument of mission work, unless
it be accompanied—or rather preceded—by the teaching of the living agent.
It must not, however, be imagined that the obstacles to the progress of
the Gospel in Japan are wholly, or even mainly, of the character I have
referred to. Another great hindrance is most unquestionably presented in
the large number of competing sects and organizations, which, here as in
other countries where mission work is being carried on, address the people
in the name of Christianity. It is true that Buddhists themselves are
divided into numerous sects and schools; but between these there can
scarcely be said to be anything of party animosity and strife. It will,
indeed, be heard with satisfaction that the feeling towards one another of
the various Christian bodies in Japan is, speaking generally, free from
bitterness; and that each would appear desirous of doing its own work, in
the wide field before it, without interference with the efforts of others.
“The feeling here,” it was observed to me, “is nothing like so bad as it
is at home.”(28) And as in England bigotry and suspicion are steadily
giving place to mutual toleration and respect, so may we hope that, both
in our colonies and abroad, counsels of charity may more and more prevail.
Still, at the best, so long as Romanists, Orthodox, Anglicans, and
Sectarians adhere to the positions they at present occupy, so long must
any real unity of action be impossible; neither can peace be sought by
surrender or compromise of principle. But meanwhile there is, of course, a
lamentable want of compactness among the converts—as a recent writer in
the _Japan Mail_, remarked “they are more like scattered groups of
soldiers than an army”;—while the perplexity occasioned to those we are
seeking to convince is terrible and great.
The following extract from Miss Bickersteth’s recently-published _Japan as
we saw it_ (Sampson Low, 1893), draws an able contrast between the
religious condition of Japan at the present day and the position of
Christianity in the time of St. Francis Xavier. “It was impossible not to
be struck with the present complication of religious matters in the
country as compared with the days of Xavier. Then, on the one side, there
was the Buddhist-Shinto creed, undermined by no Western science, still
powerful in its attraction for the popular mind, and presenting a more or
less solid resistance to the foreign missionary; and, on the other,
Christianity as represented by Roman Catholicism, imperfect truly, but
without a rival in dogma or in ritual. Now the ranks of Buddhist-Shintoism
are hopelessly broken; the superstition of its votaries is exposed by the
strong light of modern science, and their enthusiasm too often quenched in
the deeper darkness of atheism. Christianity, though present in much
greater force than in the days of Xavier, is, alas, not proportionately
stronger. The divisions of Christendom are nowhere more evident than in
its foreign missions to an intellectual people like the Japanese. The
Greek, the Roman, the Anglican churches, the endless ‘splits’ of
Nonconformity, must and do present to the Japanese mind a bewildering
selection of possibilities in religious truth.”
To refer to but one other hindrance to Christian progress in Japan—which,
although the last mentioned, is by no means the least serious—I mean the
estimate formed by the natives of the practical influence of the Christian
religion upon English people and upon other nations professing it.
Applying to Christianity the test of its results, they urge that it has,
at any rate, only very partially succeeded. For instance, the Japanese
comment upon the fact that numbers of Englishmen in Japan never attend the
services of their Church; and that the lives of many of them display a
flagrant disregard for the principles which should regulate the conduct of
Christians. Without, however, denying either the justice of these charges,
or the reasonableness of the mood which advances them, I think it may be
urged with fairness that the influence of Christianity on us as a nation
cannot rightly be estimated in this particular way. As a rule, the
Englishman can scarcely be said to appear to advantage abroad. Too often
he assumes an attitude of insolent superiority to the people whose guest
he is; while the position in which our countrymen are placed in a country
like Japan—coupled with the freedom from restraint, so much greater than
at home—has, for reasons which we need not now enter into, its peculiar
difficulties. Neither is it by any means certain that a Japanese, paying a
short visit to England, will gather any just impression of what hold
Christianity has on us as a people. In all probability the range of his
observations will be very limited and superficial; his wanderings will be
chiefly confined to the great thoroughfares of the principal cities; while
the circle of his acquaintance will, it is likely, be equally restricted,
and equally unrepresentative of English life. Not that, in saying this, we
would seek to excuse ourselves, or deny that there is far more truth than
we could wish, and than there ought to be, in the charges brought against
us. We would merely submit that there is another side to the picture which
ought not, in fairness, to be overlooked. Admitting as we must, for
instance, the great prevalence of infidelity in our England of to-day,
there is yet to be placed over against it,—and may I not add, drawing it
out into the light?—the increased activity of the Church during this last
half-century, the remarkable power she has exhibited of adapting herself
to meet the needs of her times, the influence for good that she has not
only been in the past, but remains at the present day, in the nation at
large, and in thousands and thousands of English homes. “By their fruits
ye shall know them”: and Christianity must not and need not deprecate the
application of that test to herself. Only, we would urge, that is not a
fair judgment, which takes account only of what the Church of Jesus Christ
has failed to do, without recognizing also all that, in the strength of
her Divine Head, she has been permitted to accomplish.