{Inter} Cultural Japan

It almost seems too good to be true that only twenty minutes west from Shinjuku, on the busy Keio commuter line, Tokyo’s omnipresent concrete is broken by a large patch of green. It is an area where many greeneries have managed to survive, and thanks to them visitors feel as if they have suddenly entered a park. There are trees and bushes and flowers, and even a clean stream. There is a large park too, the Metropolitan Botanical Garden, laid out on land that once formed part of the vast estate of the temple I have come to see, Jindaiji…

[Gate of Jindaiji]

The first thing that surprises me, when I step out of the bus in front of Jindaiji, is the mass of people that has turned out on this ordinary Sunday. It is only a short distance to the temple gate, over a path lined with restaurants specializing in soba, buckwheat noodles, but the crowds here would not be out of place on the Ginza, Tokyo’s main shopping street. What could have been a pastoral pleasure is turned into a hectic hustle.

Is this popularity due to the scarce green so close to Tokyo, or has the fame of the temple attracted all these visitors? The answer is that both park and temple are popular, although Jindaiji does not posses any remarkable structures besides the thatched temple gate I am looking at now. In front of this old wooden gate, which stands on a low platform, a plum tree is just putting out the first blossoms. A crowd of amateur photographers is enthusiastically taking aim at this seasonal symbol.

[The pond]

Legend of the water God
I step through the gate to find out what attracts so many people to the temple. Despite its lack of ancient architecture, the temple has a long history: tradition tells it was founded in 733 by a monk named Manku. The pamphlet I receive at the temple office relates the following legend about Manku’s birth. Manku’s father had fallen in love with the daughter of the village head, who was opposed to their relation and therefore concealed his daughter on an island in a nearby river, supposedly out of reach from her lover. But the passionate suitor could not be stopped and by fervent prayer enlisted the help of the water god, who helped him cross to the island on the back of a sacred turtle.

Manku was the fruit of the ensuing lovemaking. Perhaps to atone for his not very Buddhist behavior, the father had the son take holy orders at a young age, and the son eventually founded Jindaiji Temple on the spot where the water god had helped his amorous father. Not surprisingly, the main image of this original temple was that same water god, Jinja Daido. And although not the main temple image anymore, he still lives on, for in the temple office I saw paper amulets for sale, on which he was depicted as a rather skeleton-like water imp.

At the temple office I also discover the secret of the temple’s popularity: it does a thriving business in good-luck charms, both of Jinja Daido, as well as those related to the Tendai abbot Ryogen, who reinvigorated the temple in the middle of the tenth century. One of the temple buildings, the Ganzan Daishi Hall, houses an image carved by Ryogen (whose other name was Ganzan Daishi), that is associated with various miracles and known as the Yakuyoke Daishi, or Calamity Dispelling Master. The charms and talismans it dispenses still attract many worshipers and form the main reason for today’s crowds.

[Jindaiji]

Tokyo’s Oldest Shaka Statue
I have not come to Jindaiji for the water god, who after all is not more than flimsy legend, not for good-luck charms. To me, the attraction is the temple’s treasure, a bronze statue of the Shaka Nyorai dating from around 700. This date makes the Buddhist statue one of the oldest in Japan. Because of its preciousness, the statue is not housed in the wooden temple buildings anymore, but resides in his own hall of concrete.This is a tastefully built and decorated structure, a relief from the usual bare storehouses. Very special is also that the image is always on view in the daytime, when the iron shutters are open to reveal it behind a wall of glass. The Shaka is the historical Buddha, Sakyamuni. This was one of the first types of sculpture to become popular in Japan after the introduction of Buddhism in the sixth century. The Shaka is usually depicted in a preaching attitude, as this was also the main activity of Sakyamuni after his enlightenment.

[Hall housing the Shaka statue]

Standing in front of the glass, I admire the Shaka statue and in doing so, notice how considerately the hall has been constructed. One views the Shaka from a kind of passageway, so that there is no direct sunlight reflected on the glass. Just over sixty centimeters in size, the statue is surprisingly small and delicate. The bronze has become dark and black, but in the past it must have been gilded. The small face is clear-cut, the nose and eyebrows are sharply delineated, but the mouth is friendly and welcoming.

Another characteristic is that the Shaka sits on a chair, in contrast to the lotus position or standing pose of most Buddhist statues. It is rare to have such an old image in the Kanto, but the area must have been well-developed around the year 700, as is attested to by the many ancient tumuli graves, and the evidence that groups of immigrants from the Asian mainland, mainly Korea, settled here.

When I leave Jindaiji, I note that the battalion of photographers has increased to such strength, that gate and plum blossom are almost hidden from view. It can be a problem to be too popular.

I imagine that the water god now regrets that he ever helped Manku’s father cross the river, thus causing the present commotion in his once peaceful abode.

Address: Jindaiji Moto-cho, Chofu-shi Tokyo
Tel. 0424-86-5511

Access: 15 minutes by frequent bus from Tsutsujigaoka or Chofu Stations on the Keio Line; there is also a bus from Kichijoji on the JR Chuo Line. The bus stop is right in front of the temple.

Festivals: Daruma Fair on March 3 and 4.