道元論 11On Dogen, Part 11

The age of Mount Hiei had come to an end. Ever since the capital moved to Heian-kyo in 794, Mount Hiei had wielded overwhelming hegemony and commanded the hidden systems that sustained the capital from behind the scenes. Standing to the northeast of Heian-kyo in the direction of the demon gate, it assumed the spiritual role of guardian against malevolent forces and became the headquarters for prayers of national protection, operating in the shadows as the front line against calamity. Its glory eventually reached its zenith as it backed the capital's ruling powers both openly and covertly. From its very inception when Saicho founded the mountain monastery in 788 after returning from Tang China, Mount Hiei existed as one body and one soul with Heian-kyo. If either collapsed, everything would end. They were bound together in an inseparable fate. Yet by the late twelfth century, more than four centuries after its founding, the religious prestige that once radiated from the mountain had fallen into ruin. Its spiritual power spent, the sight of Mount Hiei disillusioned everyone who beheld it. It was precisely at this moment, when the communal illusion that had sustained Mount Hiei's long dominance finally dissolved, that the possibility of a new religion began to germinate.

What deserves particular attention is the fact that the great tide of faith seeking a future beyond Mount Hiei did not emerge from outside that communal illusion but from within it. Without understanding the process that led to this point, the new religious movement that was about to begin cannot be grasped. This is why I have devoted this series to tracing the contours of the era from my own perspective. The culmination of that effort lies in recognizing that everything was reset during the six brutal years of civil war from 1180 to 1185, the terminal convulsion of Heian-kyo. That said, it is a constant of history that the signs of a regime's collapse always appear slightly before the decisive events themselves. Just yesterday on the Japanese side, a snap general election was held, and amid the structure of entrenched interests and the dynamics of voting in a super-aged society, it ended with the Liberal Democratic Party consolidating its single-party dominance, a result that carries on the second Abe administration. When one surveys the final years of the Heian period in this way, it becomes self-evident that in structure nothing has changed.

It is true that on the level of an individual life it is only human to wish for a lifetime free of upheaval and to hope to live out one's days in peace. Yet since every system inevitably rots, it is equally true that without periodic resets no light can break through. Moreover, as someone who loves the study of history, I cannot help but feel personally that an ending is not cause for despair but a harbinger of hope for the future. What must end will always end. Put another way, what must end must be brought to an end. The rise and fall of the Taira clan under Taira no Kiyomori, which we have traced up to this point, was eventually passed down through the ages as The Tale of the Heike, and even now the impermanence of that prosperity resonates deep in the heart. For me this series of reflections functions as a kind of mirror held up to the hidden face of Japan today.

The signal fire announcing the end of Heian-kyo erupted as a military clash between the Taira and the Minamoto. It concluded when Minamoto no Yoritomo, having seized supremacy on the Minamoto side, declared victory in Heian-kyo. However, because the western half of Japan centered on Heian-kyo harbored many hostile forces connected to Taira loyalists, and because Heian-kyo itself had already outlived its historical purpose, Yoritomo made the decision to establish a Bakufu far to the east in Kamakura in what is now Kanagawa Prefecture in order to consolidate political power. The Bakufu was a form of government born for the first time in this era. The political system of Heian-kyo had been carried out almost without exception by emperors and court nobles within the framework of the old system known as the imperial court. The newly risen warrior class, however, sought to distance themselves from this old order and govern on their own terms. To that end they established an entirely new system.

In Japanese the word is written 幕府 (bakufu). It derives from the Chinese concept of a 府 (fu), a government office or military headquarters set up within a 幕 (baku), a field curtain from which a general directed operations. In other words the bakufu was the political system best suited to a military leader, and this leader was formally linked to the imperially appointed office of Sei-i Taishogun (the Commander-in-Chief) for the Subjugation of Barbarians. The office of Sei-i Taishogun (征夷大将軍) had existed since the Heian period. It was originally conferred upon the commander of military campaigns to subjugate peoples living east of Heian-kyo who refused to submit to imperial authority. Because the powers it granted were formidable and because making the appointment permanent could threaten the court itself, the title had historically been bestowed only on a limited basis when subjugation campaigns required it. Yoritomo, however, having seized power, repurposed this office and legitimized it as the supreme leadership position of his new Bakufu government. From this point onward the title of Sei-i Taishogun became synonymous with the highest authority of the Bakufu. The court's formal appointment of the Sei-i Taishogun became customary but this was purely ceremonial, serving only to guarantee the legitimacy of the Bakufu leader's authority through the endorsement of the emperor.

It was in 1175, just on the cusp of the upheaval that would give rise to the Kamakura Bakufu, that a figure appeared who made a momentous decision. Convinced that remaining on Mount Hiei would leave him unable to save either himself or others, he resolved to act. That figure was Honen (法然, 1133–1212). Honen is believed to have begun his training at Enryaku-ji on Mount Hiei around the age of fifteen, but by roughly eighteen he had already perceived the limitations of the temple and retreated into seclusion. He did not leave Mount Hiei itself. Instead he moved to a place called Kurodani Bessho, a quiet mountain site approximately 1.5 kilometers north of Enryaku-ji. This was a secluded refuge for monks in reclusive practice, and if Enryaku-ji was the public face then Kurodani was its hidden counterpart. There the young Honen continued his training under a master named Eiku (叡空). In other words, during the years of upheaval Honen was not caught up in the political machinations of the main Enryaku-ji establishment, and this allowed him to observe the age from an objective vantage point. To add a note of clarification, Kurodani Bessho like Enryaku-ji formally belonged to the Tendai school.

And yet the rigorous practices of Tendai had already become hollow formalities devoid of substance. The monks of Enryaku-ji devoted their days to petty arguments and political maneuvering, having abandoned the way of the Buddha. Honen had long felt the painful reality that they had lost all power to help the people living in the streets of Heian-kyo below the mountain. Even as these problems grew dire he remained a monk under the protection of Mount Hiei for all his seclusion, and hiding away in the mountains to pursue his practice was the only path available to him. But the state of the times centered on Heian-kyo and surveyed throughout this series had by now entered what Buddhism calls mappo (末法), the Age of the Decline of the Dharma, an era of destruction.

"Can I truly go on like this?" Such a question is one that anyone who seeks to live in truth must eventually face, and Honen confronted it daily in the deep mountains of Mount Hiei. No matter how deeply he looked within himself and no matter how diligently he practiced while avoiding the dissolute monks around him, no path forward revealed itself. In a situation so desperate that one could only conclude Tendai had no future, the place where Honen sought his answer was in books. It is a fact that life can be shaped by the encounter with a great teacher, but there are times when the age itself makes such encounters impossible. For Honen, who had withdrawn into seclusion while still young, the only possible answers lay in the writings left behind by those who came before.

Honen is said to have read through the entire vast collection of Buddhist scriptures stored at Kurodani Bessho three to five times over. And yet no matter how many books one reads, if one fails to grasp the truth within them the time is simply wasted. In 1175, at the age of forty-three, Honen had devoted everything to the practice of reaching Buddhahood ever since he was praised for entering seclusion at the remarkably young age of eighteen. Yet he had begun to understand that no matter how he persisted in his own training he could never reach enlightenment while ignoring the suffering of the people around him. At this moment a sense of mission he had never once felt in his life was taking root in his heart. His consciousness shifted. Reborn, he picked up a text he must have read many times before and his destiny was sealed. He was struck by a passage in an ancient Chinese text that had been transmitted to Japan. It was the Commentary on the Contemplation Sutra (観無量寿経疏), written in the seventh century by Shandao (善導, 613–681).

In it was written the following interpretation: [一心専念弥陀名号 行住座臥不問時節久近 念念不捨者 是名正定之業 順彼仏願故]. Rendered in modern terms this means, "Simply devote your whole heart to reciting the name of Amida Buddha. Continue the nenbutsu at all times whether walking, standing, sitting, or lying down. To never abandon this practice moment after moment is the truly settled act that leads to birth in the Pure Land, for it accords with the Original Vow of Amida Buddha."

In the Buddhism that preceded this the mainstream practice of nenbutsu (念仏) had been kanso (観想), a form of advanced meditative contemplation in which one visualized the figure and virtues of the Buddha within the mind. By contrast shomyo nenbutsu (称名念仏), the practice of vocally reciting "Namu Amida Butsu" (南無阿弥陀仏), was generally regarded as inferior or merely supplementary. This was not unique to Japanese Buddhism, and it was precisely because of this distinction that monks were required to undergo rigorous study and ascetic training to attain such elevated states.

In a sense this very characteristic lay at the root of what connected monks to their privileged status during the Heian period. The instant Honen encountered this passage he realized that the Buddhist stance centered on kanso, the contemplative practice that had been the source of the temples' monopoly on spiritual authority, would never lead to the salvation of ordinary people. What he awakened to was the possibility that the true teaching of the Buddha might be one that anyone could practice. At that moment he understood that the real problem was the attitude of monks who had arbitrarily decreed that the common people could never reach the state of Buddhahood. It goes without saying that the capacity for rigorous ascetic practice was limited to an elite class of monks and was never open to all. Seeing the dead end of this exclusivity Honen found in the teachings of Zendo a method that could be practiced not only by elite monks but even by an old woman starving in the streets of Heian-kyo. That method was shomyo nenbutsu, the practice of reciting the nenbutsu aloud.

What Honen awakened to can be expressed broadly as follows. A practice open to all and accessible to everyone embodies the truth of Amida Buddha, who wished to save all beings equally. Since this salvation is accomplished through the power of Amida Buddha, human beings find deliverance not through their own efforts but by entrusting themselves to the Vow of Amida.

This idea is grounded in the eighteenth vow among the forty-eight vows known as the Original Vow (本願) made by Amida Buddha when he was still the bodhisattva Hozo (法蔵) during the course of his own practice. That vow declares, "When I attain Buddhahood, if all beings throughout every world who sincerely believe in me and call upon my name even just ten times are not born into my land, then I shall not accept enlightenment." The name of Amida Buddha referred to here is "Namu Amida Butsu" and Amida's land is gokuraku jodo (極楽浄土), the Pure Land. In other words Honen concluded that since the preparations for salvation had already been completed on Amida's side there was no need for human beings to agonize and struggle in pursuit of effort or talent. One need only board the vessel that Amida had already prepared.

Honen reinterpreted the teaching to mean that those living in this present world need only continue reciting "Namu Amida Butsu," the name of Amida Buddha. He grasped this as the sole truth capable of saving the countless people who had been driven to despair in a world that could only be described as a living hell. He established the idea of entrusting everything to Amida Buddha as tariki hongan (他力本願), salvation through the power of the Other. The notion that Amida would unfailingly carry anyone to the Pure Land no matter how wicked or ordinary simply for calling upon his name aligned perfectly with the reality facing the people of Heian-kyo. Upon reaching this awakening Honen resolved that his mission was not to live out his days in continued seclusion but to live for the salvation of the people of Heian-kyo. Counting from the age of eighteen he had spent roughly twenty-five years in reclusion before deciding to abandon seclusion itself and step onto the public stage. In the world of Japanese Buddhism this made him a profoundly unusual monk.

Around 1175 at the age of forty-three Honen departed the Kurodani of Mount Hiei where he had spent so many years and entered the streets of Heian-kyo. In time he chose Yoshimizu in the Higashiyama district of Kyoto as his new base. Today this area bustles with visitors as it is home to Maruyama Park and Chion-in, both major destinations on the Kyoto tourist circuit. Historically, however, it was no place for the common people of Heian-kyo to set foot. Given that the world at the time was in the throes of collapse the area had become a place where recluses disillusioned with life inside Heian-kyo built simple hermitages. But in historical terms it was an otherworldly zone for burying the dead, a place that neither commoners nor nobles of Heian-kyo would have dared to enter. It was here that Honen built a modest grass hermitage and began his passionate work grounded in the awakening he had reached. This marked the beginning of the Jodo school (浄土宗), the Pure Land school, in Japan.