The Significance of Jizō
Jizō, the God of little children and the God who makes calm the
troubled sea, is certainly the most lovable of the Buddhist divinities,
though Kwannon, the Goddess of Mercy, has somewhat similar attributes.
The most popular Gods, be they of the East or West, are those Gods
with the most human qualities. Jizō, though of Buddhist origin, is
essentially Japanese, and we may best describe him as being the
creation of innumerable Japanese women who have longed to project
into the Infinite, into the shrouded Beyond, a deity who should be a
divine Father and Mother to the souls of their little ones. And this
is just what Jizō is, a God essentially of the feminine heart, and
not a being to be tossed about in the hair-splitting debates of hoary
theologians. A study of the nature and characteristics of Jizō will
reveal all that is best in the Japanese woman, for he assuredly reveals
her love, her sense of the beautiful, and her infinite compassion. Jizō
has all the wisdom of the Lord Buddha himself, with this important
difference, namely, that Jizō has waived aside Nirvana, and does not
sit upon the Golden Lotus, but has become, through an exquisitely
beautiful self-sacrifice, the divine playmate and protector of Japanese
children. He is the God of smiles and long sleeves, the enemy of evil
spirits, and the one being who can heal the wound of a mother who has
lost her child in death. We have a saying that all rivers find their
way to the sea. To the Japanese woman who has laid her little one in
the cemetery all rivers wind their silver courses into the place where
the ever-waiting and ever-gentle Jizō is. That is why mothers who
have lost their children in death write prayers on little slips of
paper, and watch them float down the rivers on their way to the great
spiritual Father and Mother who will answer all their petitions with a
loving smile.
At Jizō's Shrine
"Fronting the kindly Jizō's shrine
The cherry-blooms are blowing now,
Pink cloud of flower on slender bough,
And hidden tracery of line.
"Rose-dawn against moss-mellowed grey,
Through which the wind-tost sprays allow
Glimpse of calm smile and placid brow,
Of carven face where sunbeams play.
"Dawn-time, I pluck a branch, and swift
Flutters a flight of petals fair;
Through the fresh-scented morning air
Down to the waving grass they drift.
"Noon-tide my idle fingers stray,
Through the fair maze of bud and flower,
Sending a sudden blossom-shower
From the sweet fragance-haunted spray.
"Low in the west the red fire dies,
Vaguely I lift my hand, but now
Jizō is not--nor cherry bough--
Only the dark of starless skies!"
Clara A. Walsh.
Jizō and Lafcadio Hearn
Lafcadio Hearn, in one of his letters,[1] writes: "There is a queer
custom in Izumo which may interest you. When a wedding takes place in
the house of an unpopular man in the country the young men of the
village carry a roadside statue of Jizō into the Zashiki, and announce
the coming of the God. (This is especially done with an avaricious
farmer, or a stingy family.) Food and wine are demanded by the God.
The members of the family must come in, salute the deity, and give all
the _saké_ and food demanded while any remains in the house. It is
dangerous to refuse; the young peasants would probably wreck the house.
After this the statue is carried back again to its place. The visit of
Jizō is much dreaded. It is never made to persons who are liked."
On one occasion Lafcadio Hearn, who had a very warm admiration for this
God, desired to restore the head and arms of a broken Jizō image. His
wife remonstrated with him, and we quote his quaint reply because it
reminds us not a little of the last legend mentioned in this chapter:
"_Gomen_, _gomen!_ ["Forgive me!"] I thought only to give a little joy
as I hoped. The Jizō I wrote you about is not the thing you will find
in the graveyards; but it is Jizō who shall guard and pacify the seas.
It is not a sad kind, but you do not like my idea, so I have given up
my project. It was only papa's foolish thought. However, poor Jizō-sama
wept bitterly when it heard of your answer to me. I said to it, 'I
cannot help it, as Mamma San doubted your real nature, and thinks that
you are a graveyard-keeper. I know that you are the saviour of seas and
sailors.' The Jizō is crying even now."
"The Dry Bed of the River of Souls"
Under the earth there is the Sai-no-Kawara, or "the Dry Bed of the
River of Souls." This is the place where all children go after death,
children and those who have never married. Here the little ones play
with the smiling Jizō, and here it is that they build small towers of
stones, for there are many in this river-bed. The mothers of these
children, in the world above them, also pile up stones around the
images of Jizō, for these little towers represent prayers; they are
charms against the _oni_ or wicked spirits. Sometimes in the Dry Bed of
the River of Souls the _oni_ for a moment gain a temporary victory, and
knock down the little towers which the ghosts of children have built
with so much laughter. When such a misfortune takes place the laughter
ceases, and the little ones fly to Jizō for protection. He hides them
in his long sleeves, and with his sacred staff drives away the red-eyed
_oni_.
The place where the souls of children dwell is a shadowy and grey world
of dim hills and vales through which the Sai-no-Kawara winds its way.
All the children are clad in short white garments, and if occasionally
the evil spirits frighten them there is always Jizō to dry their tears,
always one who sends them back to their ghostly games again.
The following hymn of Jizō, known as "The Legend of the Humming of the
Sai-no-Kawara," gives us a beautiful and vivid conception of Jizō and
this ghostly land where children play:
The Legend of the Humming of the Sai-no-Kawara
"Not of this world is the story of sorrow.
The story of the Sai-no-Kawara,
At the roots of the Mountain of Shide;--
Not of this world is the tale; yet 'tis most pitiful to hear.
For together in the Sai-no-Kawara are assembled
Children of tender age in multitude,--
Infants but two or three years old,
Infants of four or five, infants of less than ten:
In the Sai-no-Kawara are they gathered together.
And the voice of their longing for their parents,
The voice of their crying for their mothers and their fathers--
Is never as the voice of the crying of children in this world,
But a crying so pitiful to hear
That the sound of it would pierce through flesh and bone.
And sorrowful indeed the task which they perform,--
Gathering the stones of the bed of the river,
Therewith to heap the tower of prayers.
Saying prayers for the happiness of father, they heap the first tower;
Saying prayers for the happiness of mother, they heap the second
tower;
Saying prayers for their brothers, their sisters, and all whom they
loved at home, they heap the third tower.
Such, by day, are their pitiful diversions.
But ever as the sun begins to sink below the horizon,
Then do the _Oni_, the demons of the hells, appear,
And say to them,--'What is this that you do here?
Lo! your parents still living in the Shaba-world
Take no thought of pious offering or holy work:
They do nought but mourn for you from the morning unto the
evening.
Oh! how pitiful! alas! how unmerciful!
Verily the cause of the pains that you suffer
Is only the mourning, the lamentation of your parents.'
And saying also, 'Blame never us!'
The demons cast down the heaped-up towers,
They dash their stones down with their clubs of iron.
But lo! the teacher Jizō appears.
All gently he comes, and says to the weeping infants:--
'Be not afraid, dears! be never fearful!
Poor little souls, your lives were brief indeed!
Too soon you were forced to make the weary journey to the Meido,
The long journey to the region of the dead!
Trust to me! I am your father and mother in the Meido,
Father of all children in the region of the dead.'
And he folds the skirt of his shining robe about them;
So graciously takes he pity on the infants.
To those who cannot walk he stretches forth his strong _shakujō_,[2]
And he pets the little ones, caresses them, takes them to his loving
bosom.
So graciously he takes pity on the infants.
_Namu Amida Butsu_!"[3]
Lafcadio Hearn.
[Illustration: Jizō--108]
This abode of the souls of children is certainly not an ideal land.
It is Jizō, and not his country, who has sprung from the hearts of
Japanese women. The stern Buddhist teaching of cause and effect, of
birth and re-birth, applies to even gentle infants. But if the great
Wheel of Existence revolves with unerring force, and only fails to move
when the desire for not-being is finally attained in Nirvana, Jizō
lovingly stands at the foot of Destiny and makes easy the way where the
feet of little children so softly patter.
The Cave of the Children's Ghosts
There is a cave in Japan known as Kyu-Kukedo-San, or Ancient Cavern,
and far within its recess there is to be found an image of Jizō, with
his mystic jewel and sacred staff. Before Jizō there is a little
_torii_[4] and a pair of _gohei_,[5] both symbols of the Shintō faith;
but, as Lafcadio Hearn observes, "this gentle divinity has no enemies;
at the feet of the lover of children's ghosts both creeds unite in
tender homage." Here it is that the ghosts of little children meet,
softly whispering together as they stoop hither and thither in order
to build their towers of stones. At night they creep over the sea from
their Dry Bed of the River of Souls, and cover the sand in the cavern
with their ghostly footsteps, building, ever building those prayers of
stone, while Jizō smiles down upon their loving labour. They depart
before the rising of the sun, for it is said that the dead fear to gaze
upon the Sun Goddess, and most especially are these infants afraid of
her bright gold eyes.
The Fountain of Jizō
Another beautiful sea-cave contains the Fountain of Jizō. It is a
fountain of flowing milk, at which the souls of children quench their
thirst. Mothers suffering from want of milk come to this fountain and
pray to Jizō, and mothers having more milk than their infants require
pray to the same God that he may take some of their milk and give it to
the souls of children in his great shadowy kingdom. And Jizō is said to
answer their prayers.
How Jizō Remembered
A woman named Soga Sadayoshi lived by feeding silkworms and gathering
their silk. One day, on a visit to the temple of Ken-cho-ji, she
thought that an image of Jizō looked cold, and went home, made a cap,
returned with it, and set it upon Jizō's head, saying: "Would I were
rich enough to give thee a warm covering for all thine august body;
but, alas! I am poor, and even this which I offer thee is unworthy of
thy divine acceptance."
In her fiftieth year the woman died, and as her body remained warm
for three days her relatives would not consent to her burial. On the
evening of the third day, however, much to the surprise and joy of
those about her, she came to life once more.
Shortly after the woman had resumed her work again she narrated how her
soul had appeared before the great and terrible Emma-Ō, Lord and Judge
of the dead, and how that dread being had been angry with her because,
contrary to Buddha's teaching, she had killed innumerable silkworms.
Emma-Ō was so angry that he ordered her to be thrown into a pot filled
with molten metal. While she cried out in intense agony Jizō came and
stood beside her, and immediately the metal ceased to burn. After Jizō
had spoken kindly to the woman he led her to Emma-Ō, and requested that
she who had once kept warm one of his images should receive pardon. And
Emma-Ō granted the request of the ever-loving and compassionate God,
and the woman returned to the sunny world of Japan again.
[Footnote 1: _The Japanese Letters of Lafcadio Hearn_, edited by
Elizabeth Bisland.]
[Footnote 2: Sacred staff.]
[Footnote 3: "Hail, omnipotent Buddha!"]
[Footnote 4: A gateway.]
[Footnote 5: "A wand from which depend strips of white paper cut into
little angular bunches (_gohei_), intended to represent the offerings
of cloth which were anciently tied to branches of the sacred cleyera
tree at festival time."--B. H. Chamberlain.]