Buddhist Materiality: A Cultural History of Objects in Japanese Buddhism 9781503626676

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Buddhist Materiality

Asian Religions & Cultures Edited by Carl Bielefeldt Bernard Faure

Eccentric Spaces, Hidden Histories: Narrative, Ritual, and Royal Authority from The Chronicles of j apan to The Tale of the Heike David T. Bialock

2007 Great Clarity: Daoism and Alchemy in Early Medieval China Fabrizio Pregadio

2006 Chinese Poetry and Prophecy: The Written Oracle in East Asia Michel Strickmann Edited by Bernard Faure

2005 Chinese Magical Medicine Michel Strickmann Edited by Bernard Faure

2002 Living Images: Japanese Buddhist Icons in Context Edited by Robert H . Sharf and Elizabeth H orton Sharf

2001

Fabio Rambelli

Buddhist Materiality A Cultural History of Objects in Japanese Buddhism

Stanford University Press Stanford, California 2007

Stanford University Press Stanford, California © 2007 by the Board of Trustees of the Leland Stanford Junior University. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system without the prior written permission of Stanford University Press.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Rambelli, Fabio. Buddhist materiality : a cultural history of objects in Japanese Buddhism I Fabio Rambelli. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-o-8047-5682-2 (cloth: alk. paper) r. Material culture-Religious aspects-Buddhism. 2. Buddhist religious articlesJapan. 3· Buddhism-Japan-Customs and practices. r.Title. BQ678.R36 2007 294.3'437-dc22 2007025910 Typeset by Newgen in ro/14.5 and sabon

AI mio babbo, Sergio, e alia mia mamma, Maria Pia

CONTENTS

Illustrations

1x

Acknowledgments

x1

Abbreviations and Conventions

xm

Introduction I.

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects and the Status of Inanimate Entities

r

II

2.

The Buddhist System of Objects

3·

Materiality and Performativity of Sacred Texts

4·

The Cultural Imagination of Trees and the Environment

129

Tools and Labor as Mediators Between the Sacred and the Profane

172

5·

6.

88

Objects, Rituals, Tradition: Memorial Services (Kuyo) for Inanimate Objects

2II

vu

viii

7·

Contents

Buddhist Sacred Commodities and the General Economy Notes

275

Bibliography 325 Index

373

259

ILLUSTRATIONS

FIGURES

Sanmaya symbolic forms of the five central Buddhas

20

Sanmaya symbolic forms of various phases of human development

28

Buddhist ritual implements: types of vajra thunderbolt

59

2.2.

Buddhist ritual implements: rosaries

6o

3·I.

Namu Amida Butsu emerging on the background

4·I.

Priest Rocho appears to priest Gyoen as a

s.r.

Religious interpretations of professional tools: hakari

183

Religious interpretations of professional tools: renjaku rope

184

6.r.

Edo period memorial service for needles

226

6.2.

Awashima gannin with portable feretories

227

6.3.

People unceremoniously throw away objects

240

6+

Objects turn into humanoid monstrous shapes

241

6.s.

After a Shingon ritual, objects practice Buddhism

243

I. I. I.2. 2.I.

5.2.

yak~a

Ill

153

TABLE

I. I.

Life phases of plants

25 lX

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A book is always the result of a collective effort in which the author is responsible mainly for its errors and omissions. Many people have helped me on this project during all these years: some by teaching me, some by criticizing me, others by encouraging me, still others by just being there when I needed them; many don't even know they have in fact contributed to the realization of this book. I am especially indebted, in ways that words could not repay, to Allan Grapard, Patrizia Violi, Bernard Faure, and the late Antonino Forte; without them this book would not exist. (It is particularly sad that Nino is no longer with us.) My teachers in Venice, especially Massimo Raveri and Adriana Boscaro, taught me how to study Japanese culture and encouraged me to keep looking further. Later, Yamaguchi Masao taught me how to look at Japan with different eyes. I have learned a lot also from Ryuichi Abe, Richard Bowring, Lucia Dolce, Robert Duquenne, Fujita Ryujo, Ishizuka Jun'ichi, Iyanaga Nobumi, Kadoya Atsushi, John LoBreglio, Motoyama Koju, Richard Payne, Eric Reinders, Martin Repp, James Sanford, Sato Hiroo, Jackie Stone, Roberta Strippoli, Sugamoto Yasuyuki, Tanaka Yubun, Mark Teeuwen, Silvio Vita, Klaus Vollmer, and Kate Wildmann-Nakai. They all read or listened to, and commented upon, versions of this manuscript or parts thereof, providing insight and criticism. Irene Lin at an early stage, Caroline Hirasawa later, and finally the reviewers for Stanford University Press, James Foard and Mark Teeuwen, offered me valuable advice on how to improve the manuscript. I gave a first run of many of the ideas developed in this book in lectures and seminars; I thank my students and all my listeners for their comments. The staff at Sapporo University library, especially Watanabe Tsuyoshi, have provided invaluable Xl

xii

Acknowledgments

support. I also wish to thank Muriel Bell at Stanford University Press and all people involved in the editorial process for their support. A special thanks also goes to Terashima Masayuki. To all, also including many who are not listed, goes my deep gratitude. Finally, my family and friends on both sides of the Eurasian continent have been an unfaltering source of happiness, insight, strength, and support. My heartfelt gratitude goes to all of them, but especially to my parents, Sergio and Pia, my grandmother, Paola, and in particular, my wife, Rie, and my sons, Giulio Yui and Valentino Kei. Portions and earlier versions of parts of this book have already been published in my monograph Vegetal Buddhas (Italian School of East Asian Studies Occasional Papers 9), Kyoto: Italian School of East Asian Studies, 2001, and in the following articles and book chapters: "Secret Buddhas: The Limits of Buddhist Representation," Monumenta Nipponica 57/3 (Autumn 2002), pp. 271-307; "Honji Suijaku at Work: Religion, Economics, and Ideology in Pre-Modern Japan," in Mark Teeuwen and Fabio Rambelli, eds., Buddhas and Kami in Japan, pp. 255-286, London: Routledge/ Curzon, 2003; and "Texts, Talismans, and Jewels: The Reikiki and the Performativity of Sacred Texts in Medieval Japan," in Richard K. Payne and Taigen Dan Leighton, eds., Discourse and Ideology in Medieval Japanese Buddhism, pp. 52-78, London: Routledge, 2006. I am grateful to the Italian School for East Asian Studies, Kyoto, Monumenta Nipponica, and Routledge for their kind permission to include copyrighted material here.

ABBREVIATIONS AND CONVENTIONS

DNBZ GR

HI KDZ KI MBD MDJ NKBT NST OJS SNKBT ST

sz T

TKDZ TZ

YT ZGR

zsz

Dai Nihon bukkyo zensho Gunsho ruiju Heian ibun, Komonjo hen Kobo Daishi zenshu Kamakura ibun, Komonjo hen Bukkyo daijiten Mikkyo daijiten Nihon koten bungaku taikei Nihon shiso taikei Omiwa jinja shiryo Shin Nihon koten bungaku taikei Shinto taikei Shingonshu zensho Taisho shinshu Daizokyo Teihon Kobo Daishi zenshu Taisho shins hit Daizokyo zuzobu Yokyoku taikan Zoku Gunsho ruiju Zoku Shingonshu zensho

Titles of canonical works compiled or translated in China or Korea are cited in Chinese. Chinese names and terms have been romanized according to the Pinyin system; the common modified Hepburn system has been used for Japanese.

Xlll

x1v Abbreviations and Conventions Buddhist terms that are widely used in English (mantra, sutra, mandala, stupa, Tantric, etc.) are left unitalicized and, in general, also without diacritics. "Buddha" is capitalized only when it refers to a specific, well-defined entity; in all other, more generic cases (buddha image, becoming a buddha, buddhas and kami, etc.), it is spelled with a lowercase b. In dates, years have been converted to the Western Gregorian calendar; only when strictly relevant to the context have months and days been indicated, in which case the premodern Japanese lunar calendar has been followed.

INTRODUCTION

One of the most prominent features of Japanese Buddhism today is the importance religious objects play in it. Household altars (butsudan), rosaries (juzu), amulets and talismans (omamori, ofuda), funerary tablets (ihai), relics, images, containers of sacred objects (reliquaries, sutra boxes, etc.), priestly and ceremonial robes, sutra booklets, sutra copies, temple and sectarian literature of various kinds, certificates, registers and miscellaneous documents (initiation certificates, receipts from donations, etc.), ritual implements, postcards, and souvenirs-all these material entities play some role in ceremonies, devotional activities, and in a broader sense, in the way Buddhists define their identity. In addition, for fifteen centuries, Buddhism has intervened on the physical landscape of Japan with thousands of temples and halls scattered throughout the realm. Buddhist presence on the territory ranges from major monastic complexes, some of enormous dimensions (e.g., Mt. Koya, Mt. Hiei, and other institutions in the KyotoNara region in central Japan and in other parts of the country), down to simple marks of the sacred such as buddha images in stone (sekibutsu) and small-dimension shrines in the countryside, along roads, and in back alleys of the cities. These icons and architectural formations constitute powerful testimonies to Buddhist material intervention aimed at the production of a specific culture through the transformation of nature. Furthermore, we should also consider the fact that meditation and ritual practices in general aim at transforming the practitioner's body into an "object"-an "image" of the Buddha-body-with all the ambiguity involved in this term: Is an image a copy? A reflection? A symbol? Or is it a "double" of the "real

I

2

Introduction

thing"? The same kind of questions can also be raised concerning relics and icons-two major categories of Buddhist sacred objects. The scholarly movement called Critical Buddhism (hihan bukkyo) pointed to the importance of materiality in Japanese Buddhism. It coined the term dhatuvada (the "doctrine of the existence of an underlying material substance") to indicate the basic outlook of the dominant forms of Japanese Buddhism, with their emphasis on the existence and function of an underlying cosmic substance envisioned as the source and ultimate goal of Buddhist practice. 1 However, Critical Buddhism strongly criticized such aspects of Japanese Buddhism and thus failed to investigate the modes in which materiality has affected religious thought and practice in the Japanese Buddhist tradition. Responses to the movement in general tended to ignore the connection between Buddhist substantialist thought and ritual uses of material objects in Japan. 2 In an important sense, then, "being a Buddhist" in contemporary Japan is often signified by the possession of some tokens of Buddhism-that is, some Buddhist objects, most usually a home shrine known as butsudan (lit., "Buddha altar") with related paraphernalia (family register, scriptures, statues, ancestor tablets, paintings, etc.), a tomb with its Buddhist funerary symbolism, amulets bought at a temple, and in some rarer cases, art objects. Formal affiliation to a specific Buddhist denomination is indicated by the kind of butsudan one owns. Of course, this should not be understood as a form of "degeneration." As Jean Baudrillard has convincingly argued, objects establish a "more or less consistent system of meanings" and behaviors3 and play an important role in establishing and representing their users' identity and worldview. These objects and related practices have always generated an economy of sizable proportions. Even without detailed figures, the sheer number of temples selling religious objects and all the stores specializing in family altars (butsudan) and other paraphernalia indicate that the monetary dimensions of this phenomenon are impressive. There is a constant development of new segments of the religious market to address new "spiritual needs" (many of which are in fact social issues), such as pokkuri temples to pray for a sudden and painless death, mizuko rituals for aborted fetuses, pilgrimage-like tourism, and car blessing-all of which involve a vast range of religious services and objects (commodities). Japanese contemporary religiosity has been defined as "momentary" if not even "punctiform" (people tend to

Introduction

3

engage in religious activity only when they need it and ignore religion at all other times). However, if one considers the proliferation and use of religious commodities and services, such momentariness acquires unexpected continuity and duration. Thus, from the perspective of religious objects and their role in everyday Japanese life, the presence of religion (and of Buddhism in particular) is far more pervasive than people usually acknowledge. In a sense, it is possible to define the Buddhist system of commodities by borrowing Reader and Tanabe's concept of a "total-care system" providing "for every individual need and requirement in spiritual and material terms throughout one's life, from birth to death and even the afterlife." 4 Buddhism can thus be understood also, and significantly, as a complex way of interacting with "material" objects to achieve some "spiritual" goals. It is a fact, indeed, that the relation between materiality and spirituality has always been problematic and conflictual within the Buddhist tradition, as the chapters in this book will show. I do not mean to imply that Japanese Buddhism has become degenerated and has lost touch with its "original essence." Far from that, my intention is to point to an important cultural phenomenon that deserves attention and analysis also from a Buddhological perspective. In fact, Buddhist philosophical speculation (not just ritual practice) has always paid enormous attention to the role of material objects and materiality in general. As the life of the Buddha, teaches us, liberation can only be attained by walking a middle path between materialism and asceticism, between attachment to material entities and renouncement. Nevertheless, contemporary Japanese authors have usually studied the Buddhist philosophy of objects as a purely doctrinal matter isolated from larger cultural and ideological issues. Most of them consider it the manifestation in Buddhist terms of an ahistorically understood Shinto animism that is believed to permeate the Japanese cultural tradition. In some cases, this is related to a vague environmental concern supposedly generated by such animism. One of the goals of this book is to formulate a critique of such interpretations. Until recently, Western scholarship has tended to ignore the Buddhist internal ambivalence toward objects and has stressed instead so-called "spiritual aspects" of Buddhist thought and practice: an emphasis on meditation as essentially a mental discipline (rather than a bodily practice) on the ritual side, together with stress on disembodied and decontextualized cognitive and doctrinal issues. Analogously, written texts of a sectarian, dogmatic,

4

Introduction

prescriptive, and elite nature have generally been the main subject of Buddhological study. The assumptions underlying such an attitude were that religion is a matter of the spirit, not of the body; that it involves mainly feelings and cognitive states and not interaction with objects; and that the study of prescriptive written texts would tell us what practitioners "believe" and therefore how they behave. These assumptions were forcefully reasserted in early modern Europe by Calvin and the Jansenists, among others, but they have a long history in the Western intellectual tradition, dating back to at least Plato's envisioning matter as the lowest form of being. Marxism also criticizes "the false conviction that objects have an inherent value or sacred content, whereas in fact they derive all their value and sacred properties from human relations." 5 Of course, the Christian tradition also includes important elements that support a religious role for materiality, in particular the Incarnation. 6 Gregory Schopen has pointed out the fact that Indian Buddhism has been studied by modern scholars in a "decidedly peculiar" way 7 because of their almost exclusive emphasis on textual and doctrinal sources. As Schopen writes, "This material records what a small, atypical part of the Buddhist community wanted that community to believe or practice." 8 In contrast, there is another body of material that has been largely ignored or dismissed by modern scholars, namely, archeological and epigraphical material that "records or reflects at least a part of what Buddhists-both lay people and monks-actually practiced and believed." 9 Schopen argues that the focus on doctrinal sources "looks, in fact, uncannily like the position taken by a variety of early Protestant reformers who were attempting to define and establish the locus of 'true religion' ... Proponents of this new and historically peculiar conception of religion ... were of necessity forced to systematically devalue and denigrate what religious people actually did and deny that it had any place in true religion. This devaluation, not surprisingly but in fact almost obsessively, focused on material objects." 10 Schopen's considerations are particularly productive and can be extended beyond archeology to material objects in general and beyond Indian Buddhism to Buddhism in general and Japanese Buddhism in particular. Study of the material aspects of Buddhism has become a fashionable subject, although it is still a marginal topic. Scholars increasingly feel the need to go beyond scriptures to understand actual (lived) experiences of Buddhists; this involves attention to material objects as clues to their uses

Introduction

5

and their role in Buddhist practice. Buddhist studies have recently begun to address extensively the status of images, relics, and the actual role of "experience" (as based on object-centered bodily practices rather than on mental discipline) within the Buddhist tradition.U However, objects tend to be studied as components of a standardized devotional context, and their significance is essentially confined to the framework of merit-making ideology. A risk inherent in such approaches is to continue the traditional distinction between an elite tradition dealing with texts and doctrines and a popular tradition dealing with objects and rituals. Melford Spiro has proposed three different modalities of Buddhism, which he defines as nibbanic, kammatic, and apotropaic, respectively. The nibbanic level refers to the quest for ultimate salvation; historically, this has been the concern of a rather small group of Buddhist practitioners. Kammatic Buddhism refers to the various processes of merit making and is primarily concerned with improving the material existence in this world (including the next reincarnations) as a means also for spiritual betterment. Finally, apotropaic or magical forms of Buddhism are concerned with securing protection from evil forces and natural disasters-aspects that are commonly, but incorrectly, referred to today as "superstitions." 12 According to received interpretations, the role of materiality decreases when one moves from a magical dimension to a kammatic one and disappears completely at the nibbanic level. However, this book will show that it is not possible to envision, not to mention practice, a nibbanic form of Buddhism without material representations-such as symbols, images, and ritual implements. In fact, there seems to be little difference in the importance of material objects in Buddhist practice, be it aimed at ultimate salvation, merit-making, or apotropaic purposes. Buddhist objects of everyday use-such as family altars, funeral paraphernalia, amulets, souvenirs, and even professional ritual implementsstill tend to escape Buddhological study. They remain solidly in the ambit of anthropology and folklore 13 as an inferior category of objects, essentially unrelated to philosophical speculations but pertaining instead to popular mentalities often perceived as uninformed if not "superstitious." 14 This book tries to overcome the dichotomy opposing scholastic and doctrinal themes and popular practices by dealing not just with objects as part of Buddhist cults but by focusing on the ways Buddhist thinkers have conceived of objects and materiality in general. Of course, doctrinal

6

Introduction

formulations of material issues influenced and actual practices (even if the practitioners were not aware of it), and at the same time larger cultural determinations in people's dealing with "things" influenced and the way Buddhist thinkers thought. It is important, therefore, to pay attention to the material evidence of what Buddhists "actually practiced and believed," to borrow Schopen's words, and the modalities of their practices and beliefs. In this respect, material objects play an extremely significant role. In Japan, in particular, there is a large body of studies of Buddhist religious objects and ritual implements. However, they are usually treated either from a traditional art history perspective as manifestations of aesthetic taste and craftsman's technical ability (as in the case of Buddhist art objects and ritual implements) or in a users' manual kind of approach (e.g., in countless Japanese books on funerals, sutra copying, and the use of butsudan), rather than as indications of modes of interaction with the sacred-a perspective that is, however, present in ethnographic and anthropological studies. Few attempts have been made to address systematically issues already posed by Baudrillard such as "how objects are experienced, what needs other than functional ones they answer, what mental structures are interwoven with-and contradict-their functional structures, or what cultural, intracultural or transcultural system underpins their directly experienced everydayness." 15 Without confining myself to the field known as material culture (although I am aware of its methodologies and theoretical contributions), I attempt to outline a Buddhist philosophy of objects (especially as it was developed by the Shingon and other esoteric traditions) and, at the same time, its impact on everyday attitudes toward material entities. That is, I discuss how certain objects and cultural practices related to their use were expressions of the Japanese Buddhist worldview at a given period and within a specific social milieu. Focus on esoteric Buddhism (mikkyo), and the Shingon school in particular, is dictated not by sectarian concerns but by the simple fact that this happens to be my area of specialization, on the one hand, and by the recognition of its impact on the history of Japanese Buddhism, as indicated by scholars such as Kuroda Toshio, Taira Masayuki, and Sato Hiroo, among others, on the other hand. 16 Furthermore, it is obvious to me that contemporary beliefs and practices cannot be adequately grasped without an understanding of their "archeology" or "genealogy" in Foucaultian terms-their social and historical processes of production and transformation. Thus, I mobilize an array of sources and approaches,

Introduction

7

ranging from Buddhist studies and intellectual history to folklore studies and anthropology; in some cases, I even did fieldwork. As a result, we see a constant attention toward objects and materiality throughout history not only among the learned elites but also among the illiterate. This book analyzes some Japanese Buddhist attempts to define and come to terms with the religious status of objects and their power. I identify anumber of central ideas and practices surrounding the treatment of materiality in the history of Japanese Buddhism. In particular, I investigate a number of steps in an ideal process in the cultural life of matter and religious objects. This process goes from raw materials to cultural artifacts and further to profane and sacred objects, the latter in turn exemplified by visual (icons) and linguistic (sacred texts) representations. This process involves theoretical issues of representation and embodiment (how to give shape to the sacred) and also social and historical issues such as the Buddhist interaction with previous ideas and forms of the sacred and subsequent responses to such Buddhist endeavor. In short, the cultural life of materiality can be summarized in three stages. First, there was the transformation of nature into cultural artifacts and of the profane into the sacred. Second, objects were related to issues of representation and to the attainment of religious goals (in all the three registers identified by Spiro). Third, objects and materiality were connected to the ways Buddhism tried to influence, if not control, the everyday life of people in Japan. It has rightly been suggested by Bernard Faure that Buddhism in general "has little to say about the domestic sphere" of ordinary peopleP However, it seems that, at least in the case of Japan, Buddhism was able to expand its sphere of influence to the realm of everyday life as well through combinatory ideas and practices (known as "combinations of kami and buddhas," shinbutsu shugo) that characterized Japanese religiosity until the early Meiji period. In particular, the field of materiality (the ontological status of trees and the environment, the role of tools, the representation of deities, etc.) was the privileged arena in which Buddhism actively interacted with local "Shinto" cults and through which Buddhism actively affected the everyday dimension of reality. I have tried to bring together all of these threads in their various manifestations in the chapters of this book. In fact, even though each chapter addresses a separate subject (a distinct issue or set of issues in the field of Buddhist materiality), all chapters deal with the general topics I just indicated: the ontology of material entities, their semiotic

8

Introduction

status (especially as related to the representation of the sacred), and their soteriological value (also as expressed by ritual activities). This book focuses not on the most obvious objects that characterize Buddhist practice, such as icons, relics, temples, and liturgical implements, but rather on a series of doctrines, material entities, and practices that are often ignored or downplayed in spite of their importance for Buddhist practice. These include philosophical treatments of materiality, the systematic meaning of objects, trees as an important source of raw materials and as a receptacle of symbolic formations, professional tools that were sacralized and used for ceremonies related to work, and memorial rituals for exhausted objects. Even when I deal with a more "mainstream" subject such as Buddhist texts, I have attempted to look at it in light of a different approach, as in the case of sutras and other important Buddhist books whose devotional role is related to their material nature as sacred objects rather than as doctrinal texts. All objects I discuss in this book are related partly to religious practice and partly to activities taking place in secular life. The book is structured in the following way. First, I present a theoretical discussion of the status and meaning of Buddhist objects and their role in shaping and representing the Buddhist worldview to both insiders (practitioners) and outsiders (scholars). In particular, I discuss scholastic doctrines on materiality, objects, and the environment (envisioned as the material basis of life and soteriological activity) and their impact on Japanese culture at large (the arts, economics, politics, and religious rituals). Sacred texts also display features that transcend their textual, linguistic meaning and refer instead, more or less directly, to their material status. Then, I focus on processes of transformation of raw materials into Buddhist artifacts, which are also processes of transformation of the profane into the sacred. Buddhist images and objects in general were often envisioned not just as representations but as living embodiments of divinities. Thus, I describe how Japanese Buddhists envisioned trees (since the Heian period, the main raw material for Buddhist artifacts), although not exclusively in connection with religious icons. Tools and labor were important components in this process of transformation; in fact, tools were often treated as ritual implements and embodiments of deities, and labor was envisioned as a sacred, salvific activity. Finally, I address some aspects of an opposite process of transformation involving materiality-namely, the ways in which originally profane, everyday objects are transformed into sacred entities through processes of memorialization.

Introduction

9

Let me now introduce each chapter in more detail. Premodern Buddhist thinkers devoted considerable intellectual efforts to defining the ontological and soteriological status of matter and objects. Chapter r presents the Buddhist philosophy of objects and the material world primarily as developed by the Shingon and Tendai schools in Japan. This philosophy is typified by doctrines according to which nonsentient beings can become buddhas, generally known with their reductive formulation as "plants become buddhas" (somoku jobutsu). Modern interpretations understand them as manifestations of a peculiar Japanese (rather than generally Buddhist) "love for nature." However, I will show that the medieval Japanese discourse on the material environment addresses anumber of social concerns, such as the status of the members of the initiatory lineages producing these doctrines, the ontology of social order, the control of the material world of the nonsentients, and the distribution of its wealth. As such, doctrines on the Buddha-nature of plants played an important ideological role in the creation of a vision of order and of power relations in society and cannot be reduced to mere environmental issues. Chapter 2 is a general introduction to the study of Buddhist objects; it addresses ambivalent Buddhist attitudes toward material objects and equally ambivalent attitudes displayed by scholars. In particular, I investigate the ways in which the Buddhist Dharma itself was conceived of in material terms and a number of doctrinal treatments of the representation of the sacred and the ontology of icons as a paradigmatic typology of sacred objects. Chapter 3 further develops the theme of the materiality of the sacred by investigating in depth the material nature of Buddhist sacred texts. I approach scriptures and other books not just as written "signifiers" conveying Buddhist "signifieds." Rather, I view them as religious artifacts requiring operations and manipulations that are not just of a cognitive/interpretive kind but involve instead several forms of performative activities. Chapter 4 outlines the Japanese imagination (in the sense of the French imaginaire) of trees and the natural world. The importance of trees in premodern Japanese culture cannot be overestimated. Within the realm of Buddhism, trees were the raw materials for temples, tools, and icons; paper was made from plants. Even the production of metal needed fire, which was of course alimented by trees (coal). It is understandable, then, that an influential symbolic apparatus was associated with trees. I draw on a number of different sources-ranging from Buddhist doctrinal treatises to popu-

ro

Introduction

Jar narratives, from medieval legal documents to early-modern Confucian and Nativist texts, from contemporary Nihonjinron to medieval initiatory rituals-and trace a genealogy of the idea of the Japanese love for naturean important element in modern Japanese cultural identity-back to medieval Buddhist ideas about the material world. These ideas developed not simply out of environmental concerns but also and especially to legitimize the social and economic status of religious institutions. Chapter 5 discusses the symbolic role of work tools and rituals for professionals and for aspects of the everyday secular life of the people. Especially during the Edo period, Buddhist institutions envisioned professional tools as transformations of ritual implements and embodiments of deities and the mandala. Employment of tools was configured on a metahistorical level involving myth, symbolism, and specifically religious goals such as salvation and the acquisition of worldly benefits. Thus, secular action in this world was conceived of as involving sacred entities. The establishment of a sacred ordering of reality was carried out not only through specialized operations conducted by religious professionals but also through secular everyday activities. Chapter 6 deals with memorial services (kuyo) for exhausted objects held at several Japanese Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines. I first describe some of these services as they are performed today by temples of different denominations and shrines. I then trace a genealogy of contemporary memorial services for inanimate objects by relating them to late medieval and early modern documents and practices concerning specific ritual objects and, further back, to medieval Shingon doctrines about the possibility for inanimate objects to become buddhas (discussed in Chapter r). Such a genealogy of memorial rituals and their intellectual background will provide an overview of the shifting attitudes toward objects in Japanese culture and the role played by Buddhism in it. In the final chapter, I propose some theoretical considerations that might be helpful in studying Buddhist objects (and perhaps, also religious objects in general) by drawing on analytic approaches from semiotics and cultural studies. In particular, I explore the concept of "commodity" to define the nature and functions of what can be called "religious commodities" as part of a more general economy of the sacred.

a THE BUDDHIST PHILOSOPHY OF OBJECTS AND THE STATUS OF INANIMATE ENTITIES

One of the most important questions taken up in East Asian Buddhist doctrines is that of the scope and range of Buddha-nature (Ch. foxing, Jp. bussho)-namely, whether it permeates the totality of reality or not. This issue involves the definition of the concept of sentience (possession of feelings and mental characteristics) and is often presented as a debate on the possibility for plants and components of the environment (including inanimate, material objects) to become buddhas. Through this, Buddhism articulated a sophisticated philosophy of objects. East Asian Buddhism developed a series of concepts that refer to the world of inanimate objects or nonsentients-material objects and entities apparently devoid of a conscious mind, which constitute and furnish the material space where both sentient beings in the Six Destinations (rokudo, rokushu) and buddhas live and operate. In particular, terms such as "nonsentients" (hijo, mujo), "realm of objects" (kikai, kisekai or kiseken), and "material environment" (eho, lit., "karmic support") refer to the Umwelt of living beings and buddhas-that is, the environment and the material living conditions (with the related set of objects) in which sentient beings find themselves as a consequence of karmic retribution. 1

II

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The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

In Japan, terms referring to materiality and the environment are considered synonymous with more concrete expressions such as "plants and the territory" (somoku kokudo), "plants, rivers, bricks, and stones" (somoku kasen gareki), or more simply "plants" (somoku). In fact, we can detect in this series of synonyms a tendency from the abstract to the concrete and from the general to the specific. In particular, "karmic support" (eho) is the most general term, followed by "nonsentients" (hijo, mujo) and the more concrete "realm of objects" (kikai) and "territory" (kokudo); "plants and the territory" or simply "plants" is the most concrete and specific of all. It is important to recognize the synonymy underlying all these expressions because in most premodern doctrinal tracts a term such as somoku usually did not refer literally to plants only but rather indicated the entire realm of the nonsentients; the latter comprises inanimate objects of any kind, including human artifacts. 2 This synonymy was indeed strengthened by esoteric ideas on the all-pervasiveness of the absolute body (Sk. dharmakaya, Jp. hosshin) of the Buddha Mahavairocana (Jp. Dainichi), but plants entered the doctrinal debate as concrete representations of the nonsentients already in China before the development of the Buddhist esoteric tradition. Therefore, "plants" in the Buddhist theoretical vocabulary does not generally refer to nature alone, and doctrines on the possibility for plants to attain salvation, known as somoku jobutsu (lit., "plants become buddhas") are not, strictly speaking, a form of Buddhist environmentalist thought. As we will see in this chapter, these expressions refer rather to the Buddhist philosophy of objects and the material world in general. One might wonder why plants-and not stones or the soil, for instancebecame the primary representatives of nonsentients and the material world in general in doctrinal discourses. This might have to do with the environmental situation in premodern East Asia, with its extensive forests, but also with the fact that it was easier to argue that plants, while apparently nonsentient, still had some features of animation, as clearly shown by their life cycle. Furthermore, plants (trees) produced construction material of primary importance that was essential for the creation of the Buddhist system of symbolic representations (temples, statues, ritual implements). This was especially true in Japan, where a Buddhist philosophy of objects centered on plants presented some remarkable developments. There was indeed in East Asia a folkloric discourse on animated stones, 3 but it remained on the margins of Buddhist treatments of materiality.

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13

The Status of Nonsentients in East Asian Buddhism In its soteriology, early Indian Buddhism generally distinguished living beings transmigrating in the Six Destinations from plants and other nonsentient beings. Salvation was only possible for living beings, such as humans, animals, and divinities. Significantly, Buddhist typologies such as the four kinds of living beings and the Six Destinations did not include plants or other inanimate entities. 4 Even classical Mahayana Buddhism tended to exclude the possibility for inanimate objects to become buddhas, as we can see, for example, in Bhavaviveka's (sixth century) criticism of the Mlmaq1sa idea that plants had a mind; 5 Dharmakirti (ea. 6oo-66o) and Dharmottara (ea. 750-Sro) also denied that plants were sentient. 6 Earlier Buddhist sources, however, in particular Vinaya materials, offer a more nuanced position. For example, a passage from the Piitimokkhasutta, studied in detail by Lambert Schmithausen, states: "If [a monk or nun] is ruthless with regard to plants, this is an offence to be atoned." 7 The Suttapitaka also enjoins monks to avoid killing or injuring seeds and plants. 8 According to Schmithausen, these passages do not presuppose a belief in the sentient nature of plants; rather, they indicate "the correct and decorous behaviour of the [Buddhist] Order and its members in society." This "matter of ascetic decorum" was perhaps related to the fact that ordinary people might have had a belief that trees were "living beings with one sense-faculty" or that trees were the abodes of deities and spirits of various kind. Thus, it appears that Buddhism acknowledged contemporaneous popular beliefs that plants, and especially trees, were inhabited by deities or spirits. 9 In fact, Chinese versions of Vinaya texts translate passages related to "being ruthless with regard to plants" from the Piitimokkhasutta quoted earlier as "breaking the abodes of spirits," "killing living/fresh grass and trees," and "destroying seeds and breaking the abodes of spirits." 10 In preBuddhist India, trees and forests were considered the abodes of yak$aS (Pali: yakkhas), ambiguous and dangerous entities that needed to be propitiated with offerings to secure their protection (or at least, to avoid their wrathful interventions). The diffusion of Buddhism among the general populace, first in India and later in other countries, involved the control, conquest, pacification, and conversion of such local deities abiding in trees.U Trees, as abodes of kami, became a matter of contention in Japan as well, as we will see in Chapter 4· Here, it should be noted that the Buddhist stance of

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The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

denying the sentience of plants was rather unusual in traditional Indian thought, from Vedic religion to Jainism to forms of post-Vedic Hinduism. For these religious and philosophical movements, plants were living beings endowed with at least a degree of sentience. Later, however, with the development of the Tantric tradition in India, the doctrine of nondualism began to affect the Buddhist understanding of plants and other inanimate things-probably also due to Tantrism's absorption into Buddhism of nonBuddhist beliefs and practices. The question of whether nonsentients possessed Buddha-nature or not was part of the discussions on the limits of salvation that animated Chinese Buddhism since the fifth century. Before the issue of nonsentients was taken up specifically, there were lingering questions about the soteriological status of sentient beings to clarify. Daosheng (355-434) presented a radically innovative position, according to which all sentient beings are endowed with Buddha-nature and can therefore become buddhas. This idea was later confirmed by the new translation of the Maha-parinirvil1Ja Sutra made in 421 by Dharmak~ema (Tanwuchan, 385-433 or 436) stating that "all living beings are endowed with Buddha-nature" (yiqie zhongsheng xi you fox-

ing)P However, such an expanded interpretation could be seen as imposing new limits; even though the possibility to become a buddha had been extended to all sentient beings, it still presupposed a dichotomy between the sentients and the nonsentients. The Maha-parinirvil1Ja Sutra clearly defines "all inanimate objects such as walls and stones" (yiqie qiangbi washi wuqing zhi wu) to be "devoid of Buddha-nature" (fei foxing)Y In the terms of Mahayana nondualism, such a dichotomy between sentients and nonsentients could be interpreted as a mark of delusion. Chinese monks began to consider what it would mean for a plant to become a buddha. Was it possible to apply to plants the standard Buddhist process of salvation? Discussions focused on whether it was conceivable that plants and inanimate objects in general engage in the standard soteriological process: whether they arouse the desire for enlightenment (Ch. fa puti xin, Jp. hotsu bodaishin), perform religious practices (Ch. xiuxing, Jp. shugyo), and finally become buddhas (Ch. chengfo, Jp. jobutsu). These ideas were to be known later in Japan through a formula first used in China by Jizang (549-623), the famous Sanlun thinker of Persian origin: caomu chengfo-that is, "plants become buddhas" (Jp. somoku jobutsu). However, this expression is rather rare in Chinese Buddhism; the most

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

15

common phrases utilized to transmit the same idea are wuqing chengfo (Jp. mujo jobutsu) and feiqing chengfo (Jp. hijo jobutsu) ("nonsentient beings become buddhas"). 14 The debate over the salvation of plants engendered different positions. 15 Those who denied that the nonsentients have the possibility of becoming buddhas emphasized that only sentient beings possess Buddhahood and that becoming a buddha is the final outcome of an ascetic process possible only to beings endowed with mind. The Yogaciira tradition (Ch. Faxiang, Jp. Hosso) further limited the category of beings that could become buddhas to those having the innate seed of Buddhahood (Sk. tathagatagarbha, Jp. busshu). In contrast, many other schools maintained that the dichotomous notions of sentients and nonsentients lying at the base of the previous position should be overcome nondualistically because sentients and nonsentients were both essential parts of absolute reality (Sk. tathata, Jp. shinnyo). The idea that plants have Buddha-nature and can therefore become buddhas is already present in essence in Huiyuan (523-592), who wrote that even though plants and the nonsentients lack a mind, still Buddha-nature inheres in them. 16 Jizang, who as we have already seen was the first to use the expression caomu chengfo, shared the same opinion. In his Dasheng xuanlun, he argues that "if the water of the sea and the precious trees in the Lotus Realm can preach the Dharma, we should conclude that they are endowed with Buddha-nature," evidently basing this idea on numerous scriptural passages about inanimate objects delivering sermons on the Dharma. For Jizang, the presence of Buddha-nature, and therefore the possibility of salvation, was directly related to enlightenment: The enlightened one possesses Buddha-nature, whereas the deluded ones do not. In this sense, there were times when plants had Buddha-nature and moments when they did notYEven more radically, the Tiantai patriarch Zhiyi (538-597) treated the sensorial features of plants as indications of their innate Buddha-nature. His sentence in the Mohe zhiguan "no single color or perfume differs from the Middle Path" 18 later became one of the key sources used by Tiantai/ Tendai exegetes to address the issue of the Buddhahood of nonsentients. During the Tang period, Huayan, Tiantai, Chan, and other traditions developed justifications for the possibility of the nonsentients to become buddhas, each on the basis of its own scriptures, vocabulary, and imageries. 19 These doctrines were not exempt from criticism, especially because they

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could degenerate into an overly simplistic theory of emptiness. 20 In the same period, Zhanran (7rr-782), the sixth Tiantai patriarch, wrote texts that marked an important development in the debate. 21 In an extended commentary on the sentence by Zhiyi: "no single color or perfume differs from the Middle Path," Zhanran first mentions the possibility that nonsentients are endowed with Buddha-nature (wuqing foxing). He adduces ten reasons to ground his argument. These can be reduced to four principles, namely, the nondualism of sentient beings and their environment (yibao buer, Jp. eho funi), the all-pervasiveness of the universal Mind (xinwai wubiefa, Jp. shinge mubeppo), the interrelation of the three bodies of the Buddha and the body and territory of the universal Buddha, and the absolute nature of conditioned phenomena (suiyuan bubian, Jp. zuien fuhen). 22 However, it is in the .fingang bei, probably written shortly before his death in 782, that Zhanran attempted a systematic treatment of the issue that became influential in the Japanese Tendai tradition. The author is aware that the Nirvana Sutra, supported by most other canonical sources, clearly states that nonsentients are devoid of Buddha-nature. 23 In a sense, the .fingang bei is an acrobatic attempt to show that this sentence expresses a provisional doctrine and that the ultimate teaching of the Buddha is that nonsentients do in fact have Buddha-nature. Zhanran, for instance, criticizes the received idea according to which "grass and trees flourish or wither [according to the season], and dust and pebbles exist or not according to the kalpa. [Thus] not only are they incapable of cultivating a cause and obtaining a result but, according to this, [their] Buddha-nature would be subject to destruction and re-birth!" 24 He grounds his critique on concepts already introduced in his previous work. It has been suggested that Zhanran might have been influenced by Daoist thought, especially in his emphasis on the nondualism between sentient beings and their environment. Many Daoist texts, in fact, argue that plants and stones embody the essence of the Dao. 25 The Zhuangzi, for instance, insists that "the Dao is everywhere," in sentient beings and nonsentient entities including "grass," "tiles and shards," and even "piss and shit." 26 According to Fung Yu-lan, Zhanran represents the highest point of Mahayana universalistic doctrines in the history of Chinese Buddhism. 27 William LaFleur, on the other hand, limits the impact of Zhanran's ideas in that the Tiantai patriarch "holds to the Buddha-nature of the natural world not primarily because he is interested in the natural world and its religious

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meaning, but because the logic of Mahayana universalism is that to which he is specially sensitive." 28 However, if it is difficult to identify the highest point of a discursive formation-anonymous, diffuse, and in continuous transformation-it is also overly reductive to think that Zhanran was only interested in the mechanics of Mahayana discourse as separate from an interest in the soteriological value of the natural world that he saw as imbued with Buddha-nature. Zhanran's ideas, therefore, need to be assessed as part of their concrete historical and intellectual context. The limitations of previous scholarship have been implicitly indicated by Linda Penkower. She rightly points out that the ]ingang bei "appropriates and expropriates the doctrinal conventions and terminologies of T'ien-t'ai's popular adversaries to assert a novel doctrinal position and the superiority of T'ien-t'ai." 29 It is here, on the terrain of sectarian polemics, that we can understand the originality and goal of Zhanran's final work. It was meant as a tool to display Tiantai's profundity and sophistication against the supposed limitations of competing traditions. Thus, even though Zhanran might have been influenced by Daoist ideas in his attempt to strengthen and expand the range of Tiantai thought, he was not interested in offering specific indications on the impact of the doctrine of nonsentients' Buddhahood on the everyday life of Buddhists. What does it mean that inanimate objects are endowed with Buddha-nature? How does this understanding affect everyday interactions with nature and material objects? These are some of the issues, ignored by Zhanran, that were addressed by several Japanese authors. The debate within Chinese Buddhism on the possibility for the nonsentients to become buddhas did not end with Zhanran. Around the time when the Tiantai master was active, Tantric Buddhism was influential in court cycles in China. Tantric conceptions of the inanimates exercised an enormous influence in Japan. Subsequent developments during the Song period, especially in the Chan tradition, also affected Japanese discussions on the subject in the Kamakura period. 30

The Status of Nonsentients in Japanese Buddhism In Japan, the discourse on the status of materiality (in particular, discussions on the soteriological status of the nonsentients, simplified by plants and, sometimes, by the territory) was structured along three orders of signifi-

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cance, or discursive regimes, that characterized the dominant kenmitsu Buddhism. 31 On a first level, Mahayana doctrines make a clear distinction between sentients and nonsentients in terms of the possibility of becoming a buddha. Authors traditionally maintain that even though the nonsentients are endowed with Buddha-nature in principle (ri bussho), they lack Buddha-nature in practice (gyo bussho) and therefore cannot become buddhas through their own agency. Their theoretical Buddha-nature only allows for an indirect, passive salvation, for example, as when a Buddha contemplates his environment and sees that everything is nondifferentiated from himself. Only in this sense can plants become buddhas; they play no direct role in the salvation of sentient beings. On a second level, we find initiatory doctrines developed by the Shingon and Tendai esoteric traditions and the Tendai hongaku lineages. 32 Whereas the latter are comparatively well known in the West, the former have received little attention from scholars. As we will see in greater detail, even though Shingon and Tendai esoteric discourses are different from each other, both agree that the nonsentients (nature, the environment, and inanimate objects) are endowed with Buddha-nature. They either become buddhas or are already in a Buddha-like state, and as such, they can exert a salvific influence over sentient beings. Salvation can thus derive from interaction with apparently inanimate objects. In this way, initiatory doctrines about nature, although based on classical Mahayana thought, reversed its conclusions. Initiatory doctrines also developed an epistemology of the nonsentients to teach sentient beings how to interpret the nonsentients and recognize their essentially animate nature. Therefore, they were also intimately connected to a third level, that of popular attitudes and ritual practices concerning the sacred nature of the environment and material objects in general. To this third domain belong nonphilosophical and extradoctrinal texts about the divine nature of trees and their wondrous powers. These texts were either part of the folklore used by members of religious institutions in their teaching and preaching activities or adaptations of elite doctrines used in narrations, performances, and poems. In this chapter, I address mainly initiatory doctrines on the environment and material objects from Shingon and Tendai perspectives. This choice is motivated by the wealth of doctrinal debates on the status of the nonsentients within the Shingon and Tendai traditions and their impact on

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I9

many aspects of premodern Japanese culture. Although these two traditions critically addressed analogous doctrines developed by other schools, such as Hosso and Kegon, they also influenced the theories of new medieval Buddhism in movements such as Hokke (Nichiren), Zen, and the Pure Land denominations in a process that still needs to be addressed in full detail.

Shingon Doctrines on the Inanimates Kukai (774-835) was the first in Japan to mention the possibility of the salvation of plants. He raises this issue in several of his works, beginning with the Hizoki, 33 but without developing it at length. For example, in the Unjigi, he wrote that "even plants become [buddhas]; how much more so sentient beings?" 34 Kukai based his doctrine on the essential identity of sentient beings and nonsentient entities because both are parts of the body of Buddha Dainichi. 35 In particular, he argued that "for the superficial teachings, the four material elements are inanimate, but according to esoteric Buddhism they constitute the symbolic body (sanmayashin) of the Tathagata." 36 Thus, mind and matter are not essentially different. In other words, material substance, being the stuff of which the body of the Buddha is made, is not essentially different from animate, sentient matter. As a consequence, KUkai envisioned a sort of universal sentience: "The realm of living beings (shujo) is made of all sentient beings in the Six Destinations of the ten directions and the three times, and all nonsentient beings." 37 Basing himself on citations from various texts of the ]ingangding jing lineage, 38 Kukai outlined the essentials of the Shingon philosophy of objects for the first time in his Sokushin jobutsugi. 39 It was further developed in the Shishu mandara gi and its variant, the Shishu mandara gi kuketsu, two apocryphal texts traditionally attributed to Kukai. 40 The Shingon philosophy of objects is thus grounded in the doctrine of the four kinds of mandala (shishu mandara). On the basis of Kukai's groundbreaking conceptualization, the Shingon tradition developed a sophisticated materialistic cosmology according to which the Buddha-body in its absolute aspect (Sk. dharmakaya, Jp. hosshin) is constituted by the six elements that compose the universe: earth, water, fire, air, space, and consciousness. Objects became the legitimate subject of philosophical speculations precisely because of their status as particular

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F 1 G u RE I. I.

San maya symbolic forms of the five central Buddhas (go-

butsu) of the mandala; right to left, Mahavairocana, Ak§obya, Ratnasarp-

bhava, Amitabha, and Amoghasiddhi, respectively souRcE: TZ 2:721-723. Courtesy ofDaizo shuppan.

manifestations or embodiments of the Buddha-body. Shingon texts dating back to the early ninth century already envision objects in general not just as things-"stuff"-but as a full-fledged mandala-that is, as the Buddha-body in one of its manifold occurrences. The fourfold typology of mandala includes the great mandala (dai mandara), representing the deities in their bodily aspects; the mandala of symbolic objects (sanmaya mandara), in which the deities are represented exclusively by their objects (sword, lotus, etc.; see Figure r.I); the Dharma mandala (ho mandara), in which deities are represented in linguistic form by their mantric seeds; and the karma mandala (katsuma mandara), usually a three-dimensional representation of the activities and movements of the deities (sculptures in clay or bronze; Kiikai does not mention wood or other materials). 41 This typology amounts to a cosmological model, in which dai mandara represents sentient beings (ujo), sanmaya mandara represents their environment (also defined as the "nonsentient," hijo), katsuma mandara represents the "differentiated activities and the distinct configurations of the Tathagata" (the Tathagata's universal salvific activity), and ho mandara represents rules and precepts. 42 Significantly, the Shishu mandara gi stresses that such a fourfold articulation is not just a representation of the Tathagata but the true form of all phenomena. 43 According to the Mahiwairocana Sittra, in fact, all Tathagatas have three "secret bodies": zi (Jp. ji), or written signs; yin (Jp. in), or seals (i.e., mudrii); and xingxiang (Jp. gyozo), or images and visual representations. 44 As Kii.kai explains, ji stands for the ho mandara, in refers to the various symbols (ritual objects) of the deities

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(i.e., sanmaya mandara), and gyo indicates the Buddha's body endowed with the Thirty-two signs (i.e., dai mandara). In addition, each of these three bodies performs movements and actions that constitute the katsuma mandara. In this way, the modalities of manifestation and the activities of the Buddha in his absolute form (Dharmakaya) are all reduced to a specific model: the mandala. The four mandalas, then, are mutually interpenetrated, and each contains the other three. 45 In this respect, it is particularly important to notice the abolition of the distinctions between the sentient and the nonsentient. 46 All objects in the environment, usually considered inanimate, are organized as one of the four mandalas (specifically, the sanmaya mandala), which is interpenetrated with, and essentially undifferentiated from, all the others. As such, objects are an important part of the Dharmakaya; because they participate in its enlightened nature, they must have a "mind" and therefore must be essentially animated. This is evident in the fact that ritual implements and emblems representing the deities in the mandala are not mere objects associated by metonymy with their respective holders but material embodiments of the essential nature of those deities. The mandalization of reality and the interrelation between sentient and nonsentient beings also appear in a text that played an important role in the formation of the medieval kenmitsu worldview, the Ha jigoku giki (Ritual Instructions on the Destruction of Hell) as it is known in Japan. In the following passage, it relates objects and beings to a set of five mantric syllables, which correspond in turn to a number of five-element series synthetically represented by a five-element stupa (gorinto): The mountains, the sea, and the earth come from the letter a. The rivers and all the water streams come from the syllable vartl. Gold, jade, precious gems, the sun, the moon and the stars, and the light of fire and jewels come from the syllable rartl. The five cereals, the five fruits, and the blossoming flowers are produced by the syllable hartl. Beautiful people perfumed with wonderful fragrances, heavenly longevity, a pretty face, a beautiful aspect, fortune and wealth display their glory out of the syllable khartl.47

These ideas were later connected to the question of the possibility that plants could become buddhas. As a direct consequence of Shingon ideas on the original enlightenment of all beings, Kiikai formulated a systematic theory concerning the Buddhahood of the inanimate world, with particular

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regard to the doctrine of the six elements as the cosmic substance (rokudai taidai). Since the universe is a modality of existence of the Dharmakaya, all beings that constitute it are buddhas in their essence. However, if the natural world and all nonsentients are ontologically buddhas, the problem is how to understand the true nature of reality. Kiikai and the entire Shingon tradition devoted great attention to the epistemological aspects of their soteriology. In fact, the theme of plants is one of the most common subjects of Shingon doctrinal debates, especially within the Kogi school. 48 Shingon arguments are very different from Tendai arguments in their scriptural bases, vocabulary, and imagery; nevertheless, they share with their Tendai counterparts the main philosophical and ideological concerns. The fundamental issue in Shingon doctrine lies in the assessment of the essentially animate nature of plants and other "inanimate" things. If nonsentient beings are, in their essence, identical to sentient beings, they must also be endowed with mind and mental faculties. As we have seen, the standard position on the issue as defined by Zhanran and others was that plants become buddhas as a result of a cognitive decision by an enlightened being. By becoming a buddha, one would see the world in a different way and in particular would be able to discern the enlightened nature of plants. 49 This corresponds to the exoteric interpretation of the becoming buddhas of plants, grounded in medieval Japan on an apocryphal citation from the Zhongyin jing (Jp. Chiiingyo) first circulated by Annen. 50 In opposition to this idea, however, Shingon masters were adamant in emphasizing that plants do possess consciousness and mental faculties, and as such, they are able to become buddhas through their own efforts. The main exegetical strategy in their argument consisted in interpreting the attainment of Buddhahood by plants and nonsentients through the doctrine of the three fundamental modalities of the cosmos (sandai)-that is, substance (taidai), appearance (sodai), and activity (yudai). According to this doctrine, everything in the universe (hokkai) is made of the six primary elements (rokudai, i.e., earth, water, fire, wind, space, and consciousness). At the same time, all phenomena are originally and innately structured as a mandata or, more precisely, as two different mandalic patterns, the Womb mandala (Jp. taizokai mandara) and the Vajra mandala (Jp. kongokai mandara), which manifest themselves in the four different shapes (shishu mandara or shiman) already mentioned. In addition,

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23

each phenomenon in the cosmos displays its peculiar activity or function (yudai) as a local, limited instance of the salvific activity of the Buddha Mahavairocana. This last aspect is known as "the Three Secrets" (sanmistu), an expression that refers to the three sources of salvation (bodily postures, speech, mental activity). 51 Shingon authors discussed in detail the way these ideas apply to plants and nonsentient things in general. 52 Concerning the six elements (rokudai) as the substance of the universe (taidai), they emphasize that the material elements are not just inanimate matter, but they form the symbolic body (sanmayashin) of the Dharmakaya; therefore, consciousness is present in them as well. 53 This is related to Shingon's distinctive cosmology. According to a doctrine developed by Jichihan and Kakuban, the Buddha-body in its absolute form (Dharmakaya) is made up of the six elements and pervades the entire universe (Dharmadhatu). 54 As a consequence, as Raiho (1279-1330?) wrote, "objects (kikai) are made of the substance of the Dharmakaya." Thus, they are essentially sentient and able to become buddhas by themselves. 55 Other authors added that the vital principle of all beings, both sentient and nonsentient, is breath (kisoku), and its essence the Sanskrit letter A. 56 Dohan (rr78-1252), in his visualization of the Sanskrit letter A, states that its shape, its sound, and its meaning pervade the entire universe to the point that natural entities ("mountains, forests, rivers, lakes, the wind, flowers, and the snow") and their sounds constitute the semiotic expression of the profound meaning of the esoteric teachings. 57 In this way, Shingon exegetes were able to use their own pneumatology (in turn connected to physiology and soteriology) to justify the animate nature of plants and nonsentient things. 58 Plants and nonsentients have two hearts-minds: the karidashin (Sk. hrdaya), which is the fleshy bodily organ, and the shittashin (Sk. citta), its mental functions. 59 This means that they also possess the complex apparatus of consciousness that characterizes sentients and is indispensable to attaining enlightenment. On this basis, Dohan advances an interesting theory based on his reading of Kukai's Hizoki and Annen's Shingonshu kyojigi. He identifies the five material elements (earth, water, fire, wind, and space) with the ninth consciousness known as amala vijnima (amarashiki). This is the "surface" (omote), as he calls it, of nonsentients. Yet, because every surface presupposes a backside (ura), the "back side" of nonsentients is the sixth cosmic element-that is, consciousness (ishiki). According to Dohan,

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the ninth consciousness of nonsentients, the pure, undefiled mind, turns into the eighth consciousness, the store consciousness (iilaya vijiiiina). This in turn manifests the seventh (manashiki), which already includes the sixth (ishiki). And the sixth consciousness, in Buddhist epistemology and soteriology, is the mental center of enlightenment. Thus, with his materialistic epistemology and soteriology, Dohan is able to justify the attribution of a sentient nature to the nonsentients and at the same time to explain their respective differences. He writes that whereas in nonsentients the material element is on the surface and consciousness on the backside, in sentients consciousness is on the surface and matter on the backside. 60 The argument is similar to the one proposed by the Tendai text Kanko ruiju discussed later, 61 in which the presence or absence of conscious mind is also described in terms of front (omote) and back (ura). Concerning the four mandalas as the semiotic dimension of reality (sodai), Shingon maintains that the mandala of symbolic objects (sanmaya mandara) encompasses and represents all nonsentient things. The ritual implements (sanmaya) in this mandala are not mere tools and symbols but material embodiments of the mental states of the Buddhist deities, vehicles to communicate their various meditative states (samadhi) to people. 62 As Raiyu (1226-1304) wrote, sacred trees are symbolic forms (sanmayagyo) of the Dharmakaya; trees in the garden are the symbolic objects used in the goma rituals. 63 More specifically, the nonsentients in the mandala (lotus flowers, Vajra thunderbolts, swords, etc.) are the seals of wisdom (chiin) of the Dharmakaya-"seal of wisdom" referring to the capacity of discernment that enables a being to choose the path leading to salvation. With regard to the universal activity (yudai) constituted by the Three Secrets (sanmitsu), Shingon authors tried to show that nonsentients possess this faculty in the same way sentients do. Raiyu, for example, wrote that when cherry, plum, or peach trees are moved by the wind, they form an esoteric mudra-that is, the secret of the body (shinmitsu). However, the sounds of wind, forests, and rivers are in themselves sermons on the sublime Dharma-that is, the secret of speech (gomitsu). 64 He does not mention the secret of the mind (imitsu)-that is, meditation. 65 But as Raiho said, the fact that trees preach the Dharma (e.g., in accounts of the Pure Land) implies that they are sentient and endowed with intelligence. Thought and, by extension, also the secret of the mind are thus peculiar not only to humans but exist in "birds and beasts" -a term he interestingly employs as a synonym

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of "plants." 66 Moreover, the fact that nonsentients are the symbolic body (sanmayashin) of the Dharmakaya suggests that they are always immersed in meditation. As In'yu (1435-I519) explains, "the seals of wisdom (chiin) express wisdom, compassion, meditation, liberation, and so forth, of the deities of the mandala." 67 For Ryuyu (r773-I85o), this is the reason plants "do not have to change their essence in order to become buddhas." 68 Previously, Dohan had maintained that the five material elements-the main constituents of nonsentients-are the five wisdoms (gochi) acquired with enlightenment by the five central Buddhas in the mandala. 69 In conclusion, plants and other material objects, being essentially animate, can become buddhas. They travel by themselves along the route leading to salvation. Shingon doctrines identify four stages in this soteriological journey: arousing the desire for enlightenment (hosshin), performance of ascetic and religious practices (shugyo), awakening (bodai), and finally, nirvana, extinction (nehan). These stages are deemed to be identical with the four phases in the life of sentient beings: birth, growth, degeneration, and death. This is a more developed version of the model found in the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki discussed later70 and appears in a tract of the Kamakura period titled Gozo mandara waeshaku. This text correlates the life cycle of sentient beings to the cycles of seasons and directions ruling vegetal life. These cycles are then identified with the Shingon soteriological process based on the five Buddhas at the center of the mandala and their five wisdoms. Table r.r summarizes the doctrines in the Gozo mandara waeshaku. 71 Interestingly, Mahavairocana is not included in the diagram, but given his central role and importance, he can be interpreted as encompassing all elements. In fact, he normally corresponds to a fifth series of items that includes the central period of summer (doyo), the geographical center, and the perfection of the upiiya. This correlative diagram implies that the life cycle TABLE I.I.

Life phases of plants and their correlations based on Gozo mandara waeshaku Life phases

Seasons

Directions

Soteriology

Buddhas

birth

spring

East

Aksobhya

stability alteration death

summer fall winter

South West North

desire for enlightenment practice enlightenment nirvana

Ratnasarpbhava Amitabha Amoghasiddhi

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of plants (and nonsentients in general) is not merely a mechanical and mindless process resulting from an unintentional combination of karmic effects, according to a view that had already been criticized by the Chinese monk Zhanran. 72 On the contrary, the life cycle of the nonsentients is a manifestation of Mahavairocana's cosmic activity, and as such, it is intentional (i.e., based on understanding of some sort) and soteriologically oriented. 73 In fact, this thread of thought is already present in the Zhuangzi?4 In'yii suggested that "deluded plants" (mayouru somoku) do not know that the four seasons are in and of themselves the four phases in the process of salvation. However, "enlightened plants" (satoru somoku) realize (satoru) that sowing in the spring, growth in the summer, ripening in the fall, and withering away in winter are the four transformations of the letter A in the Sanskrit alphabet (a, a, a~, a1p), which correspond to the four phases of salvation. 75 Shingon exegetes were well aware of the empirical problems these doctrines implied. They wrote that unenlightened people, who live in ordinary deluded states of mind, cannot see the life phases of plants as a process of enlightenment. Dohan compares the state of such people to "an eye underground that cannot see what is on the surface of the earth." 76 What is invisible to the bodily eye of human beings is perfectly clear to the penetrating vision of the "Buddha-eye." 77 Nevertheless, doctrinal problems could easily arise from this perspective. Which Buddha teaches the Dharma to the nonsentients? Who are the masters of the nonsentients? What practices do they perform? In'yii's response to these questions is vague. He says that, since the realm of nonsentients is quite different from ours, it is difficult to give a clear and detailed answer. He does mention, however, that a text vaguely referred to as "Aksobhya's Ritual Procedures" (Ashuku giki) states that plants in the east worship the Buddha Aksobhya. 78 The Shingon speculations on the possibility for plants and all nonsentients to become buddhas have been interpreted as an expression of the "traditional" Japanese attitude toward nature, one of respect for it, if not of outright veneration, as a consequence of a supposed "animistic spirit" pervading Japanese mentality? 9 However, such an interpretation presents a number of problems, some of which I will address in Chapter 4· Here, I limit myself to one point: When asked whether it is a crime to cut a plant or to destroy an object, the response of Shingon masters is negative. They argue that nonsentients exist to be used by sentients. In particular, objects are originally destined to be the support and nourishment of human

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beings: This is their raison d'etre. 80 However, the uses discussed by these authors are often explicitly "religious," as in the case of trees cut to make Buddhist statues. In such cases, a tree-that is, a "symbolic" form (sanmaya body) of the Buddha-is cut to be transformed into an icon, which is part of the karma mandala. 81 As is well known, Buddhist statues are animated icons, considered to be living presences of the Buddhas on earth, and special rituals, known as kaigen kuyo ("ceremony for the opening of the eyes") were (and still are) performed to infuse them with life (see Chapter 2). One of the secret "seals" (combinations of mantras and mudras) performed on such occasions by Shingon monks was the "Seal ofNonsentients and Plants Becoming Buddhas" (hijo somoku jobutsu no in). 82 It is possible that this formula has some relation with the memorial monuments found in northeastern Japan dedicated to trees that have been cut. Some of these funerary stones, known as somoku kuyoto (lit., "memorial stupas for plants") or somokuto ("stupas for plants"), bear the inscription "plants and the territory all become buddhas" (somoku kokudo shikkai jobutsu), a clear reference to the medieval Buddhist doctrines I have discussed so far. 83 The folkloric practice of building funeral monuments to logged trees, then, bears some connections to scholarly theories on the salvation of plants. This raises the question of the relations between elite Buddhist discourse and popular practices, a subject I will address in Chapters 4 through 6. It is worth mentioning here that the scope of doctrines on sanmaya symbolic forms was not limited to the attribution of sentience to inanimate objects. These doctrines lay at the basis of a meditative technique called gozokan (visualization of the five organs of the body), in which the practitioner has to visualize him- or herself as a five-element stupa (gorinto) and then realize that this stupa is actually the deeper structure of the Dharmadhatu (the gorin mandara)-that is, the subtle body of Mahavairocana. 84 In this way, an object is the mediator between a conditioned human form and the unconditioned dimension of Mahavairocana. Sanmaya objects (stupa, vajra thunderbolt, cakra wheel, etc.) were also used to describe the stages of development of the human fetus in the womb (see Figure 1.2). The most striking and systematic example of such an approach is perhaps the Edo period text Sanken itchisho, written by Pure Land priest Dairyu (15951673); according to it, it is only at birth that the fetus assumes a clearly human form. 85

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F 1 G u RE 1. 2. Sanmaya symbolic forms of various phases of the development of the human fetus in the womb souRCE: From Sanken itchisho by Dairyii, in Washio Junkei, ed., Nihon shiso toso shiryo 5: 525526, 528-530. Courtesy of Meicho kankokai.

Tendai Doctrines on the Inanimates The issue of whether inanimate objects can attain salvation was also discussed within the Tendai school as one of the subjects of the so-called Tendai giron, debates on important doctrinal issues that were later edited and collected in written treatises. In these documents, the textual position of the "questions" usually represents an extra-sectarian or heterodox position to be criticized by the "answers" indicating the orthodoxy of that particular textual lineage. The initial questions are often quite standard and approximately represent the Hosso doctrines on the subject. 86 According to the question, plants, being nonsentient entities (hijo), cannot arouse the desire for enlightenment and perform religious practices; as a consequence, they cannot become buddhas (jobutsu). The replies to this position changed according to the lineage and the historical period, in accordance with doctrinal developments within the Tendai tradition. In any case, the scriptural body of reference, the rhetorical apparatus, and the conceptual vocabulary remained rather stable throughout the centuries. 87 All these doctrines were also influential in medieval literature, performing arts, and ikebana. 88 Here, I will examine some of the most influential Tendai treatments of the subject. Traditionally, several positions coexisted within the Tendai tradition, which can be reduced to essentially three: the classical Tiantai doctrine,

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29

the esoteric model, and the medieval teachings of original enlightenment (hongaku homon). 89 As we have already seen, the classical Tiantai doctrine, first proposed by Zhanran and further developed during the Tang period, maintained that the material world is endowed with Buddha-nature. The nonsentients are thus sentients and can become buddhas but only as a consequence of a real sentient being attaining enlightenment. The esoteric model, of which we have already seen the Shingon variant, considers the material world as literally the body of the cosmic Buddha Mahiivairocana. Material things, as essential components of the Buddha, are sentient. Indeed, they are the Buddha in a very literal sense; in this case, becoming a buddha configures itself as recognizing one's already being such. Finally, initiatory teachings based on the principle of original enlightenment argued that salvation, in the case of the material world, was expressed by the ordinary mode of existence of material entities. In other words, because there is no distinction between saJ?lsiira and nirvana and because of the absolute nature of phenomena, the way things are in this world is the true and absolute way of being. Thus, objects in the material world become buddhas by being the way they are. An intermediary position between classical Tiantai and hongaku doctrines, also developed by the Tendai school, argues that inanimate entities become buddhas because of the nondualism that establishes itself from the perspective of karmic retribution between the material world and the psychophysical form of the reincarnated being. In any case, it is important to note that, contrary to received interpretations, the Japanese Tendai philosophy of objects was not entirely represented by hongaku doctrines, which also present significant differences among themselves. THE CLASSICAL LEGACY: INDIRECT SALVATION

Saicho, the founder of the Tendai school, wrote in a commentary to Zhanran's Jingang bei that nonsentients possess Buddha-nature but did not expand on their possibility to actually become buddhas. He did, however, mention the term somoku jobutsu, thus suggesting that he admitted some form of salvation for the material world. 90 Saicho discussed the idea that nonsentient beings also possess Buddhahood in his Shugo kokkaisho. In it, he develops the argument in two parallel ways. On the one hand, if nonsentients were forever deprived of Buddhahood, it would mean that nonsentient entities exist independently of the mind, an idea contrary to Mahayana tenets. On the other hand, since Suchness (Sk. tathatii, Jp. shinnyo) is all

30

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o/ Ohjects

pervading, it must also encompass nonsentients, which as a consequence must then possess Buddhahood. 91 Saicho was still thinking within the classical Tiantai framework established by Zhanran, with his emphasis on the idea of universal Buddhahood of sentient beings (and the concurrent rejection of the doctrine of icchantika, beings forever incapable of becoming buddhas), rather than a specific concern for the nature of the material world. During the first decades of the ninth century, a number of scholar-monks from Enryakuji carried out a more or less regular epistular exchange with influential Tiantai monks in China. In their messages, they sought clarification of several doctrinal issues; for this reason, these documents are collectively known as "Doctrinal Instructions from Tang China" (Toketsu). One of the questions that the Japanese addressed to their Chinese counterparts concerned the status of the material world and the concrete, practical implications-also in terms of ethics and actual behavior-of the attribution of Buddha-nature to the nonsentients. Tokuen (784-after 843), Saicho's disciple and Enchin's master, sent to China his questions concerning the active agency of nonsentients toward their salvation and the originality of the Tiantai position vis-a-vis Hosso and Sanron. The Chinese master Zongying (who would later become Ennin's master) replied in a very abstract and formulaic way, perhaps an indication that for him the issue of the possibility of a soteriology for nonsentients was not of primary importance. In brief, Zongying wrote that nonsentients as products of the mind also have a mental aspect; thus, they can be understood as sentients and therefore can become buddhas-but only when the mind conceiving of them attains enlightenment. Zongying stressed the specificity of Tiantai's position on the ontological status of the nonsentients, and it is clear that he was thinking of contemporary Chinese sectarian debates rather than of the concrete, moral implication of such doctrines. 92 A similarly detached attitude can also be seen in Weijuan's reply to a similar query submitted by Ensai; the Chinese monk limits himself to emphasizing the role of visualization for understanding the issue and gives no concrete, practical information. 93 Encho (771-836) was probably the first within the Japanese Tendai tradition to address, in a clear and explicit manner, the issue of whether plants (as representative of the material world) had the capacity to become buddhas and in what sense. In his letter to the Chinese monk Guangxiu, he questioned Zhanran's ideas by pointing to the fact that nonsentients do not

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31

have an intellect and lack any perceptible trace of enlightenment. Guangxiu replied by referring to Zhanran's interpretation of Zhiyi's famous sentence on "colors and perfumes." 94 He argued that intelligence and salvation of nonsentients depend on sentient beings' intelligence and attainment of salvation. In other words, Guangxiu emphasized human agency and the fact that, from the point of view of the enlightened one, nonsentients preach the Dharma. Encho also raised a central issue: If nonsentients have Buddhanature, is it a crime to cut a tree? Guangxiu's answer is rather vague. He wrote that the human body is sentient, yet it is made of the four material elements (i.e., nonsentients); if the body becomes a buddha, so do the four elements that compose it. As for the moral implications, he wrote that it depends; damaging a corpse is not homicide. 95 It was Annen (841-895?) who systematized the Tendai version of the classical Chinese Buddhist position concerning the status of material entities through an apocryphal citation he attributed to the Zhongying jing (Jp. Chuingyo) but which in fact does not exist in that scripture: "When Sakyamuni attained enlightenment, all plants turned into the Buddhabody and preached the Dharma." This citation appears for the first time in Annen's Shinj6 si5moku jobutsu shiki, probably written between 869 and 885, and later in his Shingonshu kyojigi and Taizo kong6 bodaishingi ryaku mondi5sh6 of 885. 96 The idea here is that when someone becomes a buddha, his or her karmic environment must also reveal its Buddha-nature because of the nondualism of karmic body and karmic environment. The origin of this citation has puzzled commentators since premodern times. For example, the Shingon monk Un'yii (r614-1693) wrote that the passage quoted by Annen cannot be found in the Zhongyin jing. 97 The Zen priest Ikkyii Sojun (1394-148r) argued that the citation is actually a sentence uttered by the Buddha at the moment when he was born. 98 Another monk from the Edo period, Nittatsu (1674-1747), suggested that this sentence is a summary of a passage from the Zhongyin jing stating that the Buddha, because of the power given to him by enlightenment, transforms all lands in the trichiliocosm and all beings become like him: 99 When the sublimely enlightened Tathagata touches the territory of the trichiliocosm with his heavenly feet, everything, from the Heavens of No-thought and Non-no-thought down to the Hell without salvation, becomes gold-colored. [The trichiliocosm] is [thus] not different from the sublimely enlightened Tathagata; it is endowed with the thirty-two

32

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects major marks and the eighty minor marks; seven-feet (shaku) tall and issuing forth light, it sits on a precious high lotus seat and preaches in Sanskrit, and each single Buddha in the trichiliocosm is its disciple, and they all perform the eighty-four thousand practices; lasciviousness, anger, ignorance, and illness all spontaneously disappear in those who see such a glorious light. 100

However, as Sakamoto Yukio rightly points out, this passage indicates that the Buddha makes identical to himself all sentient beings in the universe (the trichiliocosm), not the nonsentients. 101 Sakamoto further suggests that a passage from another sutra, the Da baoji jing, might be at the origin of Annen's apocryphal citation. 102 This sutra says that "plants and forests are without mind, but [thanks to the supernatural powers of the Buddha] they become a Tathagata endowed with all the bodily marks and preach the Dharma." 103 However, this is not exactly what Annen's apocryphal citation says. In fact, Annen's citation might be a rewriting of the passage mentioned by Nittatsu, or perhaps of another passage from the same scripture, 104 in light of passages from the Sutra of Vimalakirti, such as the one stating that buddhas can see the ordinary world as pure and undefiled-or in other words, that the Pure Land is no else than the present world as seen by the enlightened eyes of a buddha. 105 In any case, this apocryphal citation was enormously important in subsequent developments of the discourse on inanimate objects and is often quoted in No dramas and other extra-canonicalliterature. 106 The influential master Genshin (942-1017) criticized previous Tendai positions on the salvation of plants and the material world, such as those purported by Annen and Ryogen. 107 He argued, in accordance with classical Chinese Mahayana teachings, that the identity in principle of sentients and nonsentients does not necessarily imply an identity in practice; thus, nonsentients cannot become buddhas. In this, Genshin was following his master Kakucho (952-1034) and, ultimately, Zhanran, who, as we have seen, argued that nonsentients have Buddha-nature but never said that plants can become buddhas by their own effort. This was clearly an important issue within Tendai. In an attempt to find authoritative support from continental Tiantai, Genshin even asked the Chinese master Siming Zhili (960-1028), who essentially confirmed his position. 108 In spite of Genshin's clear stance, during the middle ages he was attributed the authorship of texts of the Tendai hongaku tradition proposing radical forms of the doctrine ensuring

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

33

the salvation of plants and the nonsentients, such as the Sanjushika no kotogaki, which I examine later. Subsequently, Genshin's classical interpretation was reiterated by Dozui (active II07-II57) 109 and especially by Shoshin. The scholar-monk Shoshin (active II53-1207) proposed what is perhaps the most radical critique of Buddhist doctrines on plants becoming buddhas in his Hokke sandaibu shiki, written between n6o and 1207. There, he argued against the presence of a soul or consciousness in inanimate things such as plants from several perspectives. He noted that even Zhanran, according to whom nonsentients have Buddha-nature, did not say that plants arouse the desire for enlightenment, perform religious practices, and become buddhas. For Shoshin, nonsentients cannot possibly become sentients. Plants may be produced by sentient beings as transformations of their minds, but they are not sentient in themselves. Even if one admits that plants have a mental principle, they would still lack the phenomenal, real mind that characterizes sentient beings and lies at the basis of the latter's potential to become buddhas. Moreover, even if one admits that plants are endowed with Buddha-nature, this alone does not imply that they can become buddhas. In fact, it is not easy to become buddhas even for sentient beings endowed with Buddha-seeds (busshu). Without external causes, plants cannot become buddhas even through the internal perfuming of Suchness; without autonomous effort, they cannot be recipients of the grace of the buddhas.U 0 After the mid-Kamakura period and throughout the middle ages, the intellectual lineage Zhanran-Genshin-Shoshin appears to have been aminority within the Tendai school, dominated by esotericism and hongaku lineages. However, the Edo period saw the emergence of a reform movement directed by Myoryujizan (1613-1690) and Reiku Koken (1653-1739) envisioning a return to Zhili's Tiantai. As part of their criticism against Tendai esotericism and hongaku thought, these authors, in line with the classical tradition they sought to revert to, denied the existence of an autonomous soteriological agency in the nonsentients. They were followed, among others, by Reiku's disciple Chishu (1659-1743) and by Fujaku Tokumon (1707-1781). 111 These Edo period developments put de facto an end to the medieval Tendai discourse and destroyed the supremacy of initiatory lineages within the Tendai school. 112 It is interesting to note that, at the same time the Shingon tradition emphasized some of its most typically "medieval" features-such as the combinatory rituals for professionals and

34

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their tools, as we will see in Chapter 5-the Tendai school decided to drastically change course and revert to an idealized image of purity, which it identified in the Song period teachings of Zhili. THE ESOTERIC MODEL: THE MATERIAL WORLD AS A MODALITY OF MAHAVAIROCANA

It is well known that the Tendai tradition was one of the major centers of Japanese esoteric Buddhism, especially in what is known as Taimitsu (Tendai esotericism). Taimitsu developed a different approach to the status of the nonsentients that was based on the doctrines of esoteric Buddhism. Annen credited Ennin (794-864) with the idea of an autonomous soteriology of plants, 113 but it was Enchin and Annen himself who formulated the conceptual background for the Tendai esoteric view on the subject. Enchin (8q-89r) argued in his ]uketsushu that from the standpoint of the principle of Suchness, all dharmas are undifferentiated and signless (muso); accordingly, sentients and nonsentients are made of the same substance, and therefore, they all share Buddha-nature.l14 A more explicit enunciation of the esoteric position on the subject appears in the Richi ichimonshu, an apocryphal work attributed to Enchin. 115 According to this text, sentients and nonsentients are all generated by the single body of the Buddha Mahavairocana; properly speaking, only Mahavairocana can become a huddha, but all existing entities share the same Dharma-essence (hossho) as Mahavairocana. The text quotes the following passage from the Fukuchi kichizokyo:

Mahavairocana told his servant Fudo Myoo: "In the world there are my alternative bodies (hunshin) named 'nonsentients and plants.' You must go and convert them." Fudo replied: "Very well. I will make so that plants become buddhas." Then Fudo ordered the plants [to become buddhas], and the plants became buddhas. 116 Even though the Fukuchi kichizokyo cannot be found in today's Japanese Buddhist canon, the preceding quotation clearly expresses the esoteric point of view, according to which nonsentients are part of Mahavairocana's body. However, the citation is contradictory: Mahavairocana orders one of his manifestations, Fudo Myoo, to "convert" another "alternate body" of his (the nonsentients) so that the latter can "become a buddha." But if the nonsentients are already an integral part of Mahavairocana, why should they be converted? Are they not already Buddha in the most literal sense?

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

35

A possible indication to solve these doubts may be found in another part of the Richi ichimonshu connecting the soteriology of the nonsentients to the process of becoming a buddha in the present body (sokushin jobutsu). The text explains that the expression "plants become buddhas" (somoku jobutsu) indicates the process of becoming a buddha based on the five syllables of the Vajra realm; in contrast, sentient beings become buddhas based on the syllable A of the Womb realm. More specifically, the salvation of nonsentients is the result of the combination of A (the mantric seed of Mahavairocana of the Womb realm) and va?fZ (the mantric seed of Mahavairocana of the Vajra realm). This is due to the fact that while sentients are generated from the letter A of the Womb realm, plants stem from the syllable va?fl of the Vajra realm. 117 In this sense, sentients and nonsentients are different, but they share the body-mind complex of Mahavairocana. Accordingly, plants are endowed with a mind, which is the same as Mahavairocana's one mind (isshin)Y 8 Statements such as the previous one called for further explanations on the actual nature of the minds of plants and the nonsentients-a constant and obvious preoccupation for traditions claiming that nonsentients were actually sentients and were therefore endowed with mental activity. The Keiran shuyoshu, compiled around r3r8 by the Tendai monk Koshu, contains the following passage: The plum flowers before the window welcome the spring; their color is fresh and their perfume fragrant. One would like to say that they are sentient. In winter their branches are empty: they have no color or shape. They are both sentient and nonsentient: they are endowed with the principle of the Middle Path. 119 The author is trying to solve the problem by arguing that plants are both sentient when flowering and nonsentient when withering; as such, they are a perfect embodiment of absolute nondualism-the Middle Path (chudo). The absolute and unconditioned nature of the nonsentients, as the body-mind complex of Mahavairocana, was the subject of numerous speculations within the Tendai tradition as well (we have already seen some of the arguments developed by the Shingon school). An early modern Tendai esoteric text written by the monk Tenkai (r536-r643) states: One must know that all things in this world are generated by the fivesyllable mantra a bi ra un ken; green willows and red flowers are produced by Mahavairocana Tathagata. At this level of understanding, the

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pine tree as pine tree and the red foliage as red foliage constitute the original material aspect [of reality, shikiso]. The mind should not think that a pine tree is just a pine tree.U 0 A pine tree is not just a pine tree but the "original material aspect of reality" -of course, also endowed with mental functions because it is impossible to separate Mahavairocana's body from his mind. Later, we will see that other lineages within the Tendai establishment also developed these themes, sometimes with surprising results. ANNEN'S SYNTHESIS

Annen was perhaps the first in Japan to offer a systematic doctrine of the ontological status and soteriological possibilities of nonsentients. He did so by bringing together various threads of arguments that had been developed first in China and then in Japan, both inside and outside the Tiantai-Tendai lineages. He endeavored to prove that plants are sentient and therefore are able to become buddhas through their own agency. 121 Annen's central idea is best summarized by the following passage from his Taizo kongo bodaishingi ryaku mondoshO: Even though plants die, their material essence does not. It pervades every place without the least mutation over time. Such being the character of their nature, Suchness constitutes their essence. Since Suchness is their essence, plants always have the capability of awakening, and because they have the capability of awakening they arouse the desire for enlightenment and become buddhas. 122 Annen's idea of the absolute nature of the nonsentients is based on the teachings of Shingon esoteric Buddhism. Annen refers to Kukai's doctrines of the four mandalas, previously discussed, in which the nonsentients constitute one of the four mandalas (in particular, the mandala of sanmaya symbolic entities) and to the Shingon ontology of signs and representations outlined in Kiikai's Shoji jissogi. 123 Thus, Annen was also conversant with Kukai's esoteric semiotics, according to which all entities in the universe are active participants in an unceasing semiotic process, and hence, it is not possible to distinguish between sentients and nonsentients. 124 Annen synthesized the esoteric teachings on the salvation of plants and the nonsentients-according to which plants have the agency to carry out their own salvation by their own efforts-on the basis of a passage from the Mahavairocana Sutra: "I pervade all kinds of sentients and nonsentients,

The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

37

and the letter A is the vital principle." 125 Accordingly, in the Taizo kongo bodaishingi ryaku mondosho, Annen posited four ways in which plants can become buddhas-namely, by relying on their own mind (jieshin), on someone else's mind (taeshin), on both their own and someone else's mind (kyoeshin), and neither on their own mind nor on someone else's or in the combination of the two (hiji hita hikyo eshin). 126 These four possibilities lie at the base of later developments in the Kanko ruiju as we will see later. Here is Annen's explanation of each of the four modalities of salvation. r. Plants, as permeated by the letter A and with the letter A as their vital

principle, arouse the desire for enlightenment (hosshin) by relying on their own mind. 2.

Since Mahavairocana is not different from the letter A, the originally enlightened mind (Sk. bodhicitta, Jp. bodaishin) of the practitioner permeates sentients and nonsentients alike; therefore, plants arouse the desire for enlightenment by relying on someone else's mind.

3· Since Mahavairocana permeates everything, plants arouse the desire for enlightenment by relying both on their own mind and on the minds of others. 4· Since the letter A is the ultimate principle of everything, it is the letter A itself that spontaneously arouses the desire for enlightenment. Thus,

properly speaking, when plants arouse the desire for enlightenment, they do so not by relying on their own mind, or on the Buddha's mind, or on any of them. The first mode depends on the notion that the realm of inanimate things (kisekai), like the realm of sentient beings, is a transformation of Suchness. If Suchness can become the starting point for the salvation of sentient beings, the same should also be true for inanimate things because both share the same origin. The second mode is based on the previously discussed citation from the Zhongying jing. The idea here is that when someone becomes a buddha, his or her karmic environment must also reveal its Buddha-nature because of the nondualism of karmic body and karmic environment. The third mode of attainment consists in the fact that plants become buddhas because of both their embodying the absolute principle and their being transformations of the supreme Buddha. Finally, the fourth mode involves a discursive transformation of Tendai meditation techniques, according to which Buddha-nature, being empty, cannot be defined in positive terms. The most complete exposition of Annen's theories on the salvation of plants can be found in the Shinjo somoku jobutsu shiki (also known as

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Kantei somoku jobutsu shiki), a critical edition of several scriptural passages and commentaries that Annen used to ground his own speculations. The text, probably written between 869 and 885, does not argue whether plants become buddhas or not; it simply takes for granted their possibility of salvation and focuses instead on soteriological modalities, especially on the question of whether plants engage themselves in religious practice. 127 On a theoretical level, the underlying assumption is Annen's view that the "only and single mind" (yuiisshin), as the mental essence of the universe, is a synonym of Suchness. In this sense, there is no ontological difference between sentients and nonsentients; both are endowed with the universal mind and substance and with Buddha-nature. In Annen's words, plants are not separate from the mind "like water and waves," and therefore, "since plants are mind they become buddhas." He also repeats this argument with regard to the nondualism of karmic environment and karmic body. 128 A key issue was whether plants (as representatives of the entire material world) were endowed with the faculties of reasoning and judgment (funbetsu). Annen argued that they were, also on the basis of two classic examples. In the first, the Chinese Empress Wu (Wu Zetian, d. 705) ordered the flowers in her garden to blossom at night, and the flowers obeyed her. 129 In the second example, a disciple of a Brahmin in India married the flower of a patalitree, who appeared to him in a woman's shape, and their descendants built a city called Paraliputra (present-day Patna), the capital of Asoka's empireY 0 THE HONGAKU POSITION: THE MATERIAL WORLD AS THE ULTIMATE

After Annen, whose synthesis became the starting point for subsequent authors, three texts represent the most significant developments in the Tendai doctrines on the status of plants and the nonsentients. They are the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki attributed to Ryogen (912-985) 13 \ the Sanjiishika no kotogaki (also known in its later variant Makura no soshi) attributed to Genshin but probably written in the first half of the thirteenth century132 ; and the Kanko ruiju, a Tendai hongaku encyclopedia attributed to Chiijin (1065-II38) but probably composed during the second half of the thirteenth century. 133 The first text, the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki, is perhaps the first attempt to propose a doctrine on the salvation of plants not based on esoteric Buddhism but instead within the framework of the teachings of original enlightenment. The last of the three, the Kanko ruiju,

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is a summary of Tendai hongaku doctrines on the subject. Between the two, the Sanjushika no kotogaki represents a somewhat heterodoxical position within this tradition of thought. A. Somoku Hosshin Shugyo ]obutsuki An important episode in the monastic career of Ryogen (912-985, also known as Ganzan Daishi, Jie Daishi, or Tsuno Daishi and as one of the "protectors" of Mt. Hiei) relates him to the issue of the salvation of plants. In 963, he participated in the 6wa era debate, opposing a preeminent Hosso scholar monk, Chuzan, precisely on the question of the enlightenment of plants. 134 This is probably why the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki is considered a transcription of Ryogen's oral teachings to Kakuun (953-1007). The originality of this short treatise lies first in the homology it establishes between the biological cycle of plants and the life of sentient beings. In this way, it can articulate the biological continuum of vegetal life through a grid constituted by the four phases of the life of sentient beings (shiso) as described in Buddhist scriptures: birth (sho), stability (ju), alteration (i), and extinction (metsu). The next move of the text consists in creating "a nexus between the biological life cycle of a plant and the process of enlightenment as experienced by human beings ... When correctly understood ... the life cycle is an enlightenment cycle." 135 The four phases of the life cycle are identified with the four stages of the Buddhist soteriological process (shiten)-that is, arousing the desire for enlightenment, religious practice, enlightenment (bodai), and finally nirvana (nehan): Plants are endowed with the four phases of life (shiso): birth, stability, alteration, and death. These are the shapes of [the four stages of soteriology:] arousing the desire [for enlightenment], religious practice, bodhi, and nirvana, as far as plants are concerned. Do plants not then also belong to the category of sentient beings? 136 This formal similarity between sentients and nonsentients reveals a more profound and significant fact-namely, that the nonsentients are also continuously engaged in a salvific process: One should know that when plants arouse the desire [for enlightenment) and perform religious practices, so do sentient beings; and when sentient beings arouse the desire [for enlightenment] and perform religious practices, plants as well arouse the desire [for enlightenment] and perform religious practices ... All beings, sentient and nonsentient, have the capacity

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to save themselves and to bring benefits to others. For this reason, plants also arouse the desire [for enlightenment], perform religious practices, and become buddhas. 137 In such a vision, everything in the universe is engaged in a recursive process aimed at both achieving its own salvation and bringing benefits to other beings. It is an approach heavily influenced by the interpretive strategies of esoteric Buddhism, with their ceaseless search for analogies to explain the coherence of reality.l3 8 However, the conceptual originality of the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki also constitutes its limit. As William LaFleur writes, it "could be seen as something which ... by implication rules out the Buddhahood possibility for natural objects lacking such a cycle-rocks and rivers, for example." 139 Later authors will specify that their ideas apply to all nonsentients, not just to plants, even though that will entail logical and terminological problems. The text is also unclear about the Buddhological status of plants: Question: Even though plants are endowed with Buddha-nature in principle (ri bussho), they cannot have Buddha-nature as a result of practice (gyo bussho). How can they then possess the circumstantial cause and the final cause and become buddhas? 140 Answer: You recognize that they are endowed with Buddha-nature in principle. Well, you should know that they must then also possess Buddhanature as a result of practice. 141 Only in later documents will we find more articulated justifications for such a statement. The Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki presents the salvation of plants as necessary and innate, related as it is to their very existence and life cycle. Although this is related to hongaku thought, the emphasis on the soteriological process from ignorance to realized buddhas shows that the text was written from the point of view of acquired enlightenment (shikaku)-that is, before the development of a systematic vision of original enlightenment. Subsequent texts will deny, in ways coherent with their general doctrinal framework, the very existence of a soteriological process and stress instead the idea of innate and original salvation.

B. Kanko ruiju The Kanko ruiju contains perhaps the most systematic exposition of Tendai hongaku ideas about plants becoming buddhas, and it also includes

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references to a number of non-Tendai doctrines. 142 A major contribution of this text concerns the ontological status of the nonsentients and the epistemological problems related to it. As a part of Suchness, the vegetal world is endowed with the two fundamental qualities of dharmata (Jp. hossho, i.e., the essence of the supreme Dharma): Quiescence (jaku, i.e., the principle of nondifferentiation and integration of all phenomena within absolute reality) and Radiance (sho, i.e., the principle of differentiation and multiplicity). These two principles are in turn connected to two modalities of initiatory understanding of reality based on Tendai visualization practices, focusing on ichinen (lit., "one thought," indicating the single, all-embracing instant of thought that captures the essential unity of the universe) and sanzen (lit., "three thousand," a term referring to the trichiliocosm mentioned in the Lotus Sutra and indicating the multiplicity of the real), respectively. In this way, the ontology of the nonsentient comes to be intertwined with epistemology and religious practice. The Kanki5 ruiju analyzes in depth the concept of "becoming buddha" (jobutsu), interpreted as "being endowed with the Middle Way" (chudo, i.e., the overcoming of all dualism). In a sense, its treatment of plants is an extended meditation on the previously quoted dictum from Zhiyi's Mohe zhiguan: "no single calor or perfume differs from the Middle Path." In particular, the salvation of the vegetal world is systematically explained through seven arguments listed in an increasingly esoteric order, from standard Mahayana views to the initiatory doctrines of mid-medieval Tendai hongaku circles: the vision of the Buddhas, the possession of the principle of Dharma-nature (dharmata), the nondualism of karmic environment and karmic body, the autonomous and unconditioned nature of material phenomena, the innate possession of the three Buddha-bodies, the sublime and incomprehensible character of Dharma-nature, and the possession of the Middle Way. 143 Let us consider each of these in detail. I. Vision of the Buddhas (shobutsu kangen): In their essence, plants cannot become buddhas, but when Buddhas meditate on them, the appearance of plants becomes the very substance of the Buddhas. This modality is related to the apocryphal passage from the Zhongyin jing first quoted by Ann en. 2. Possession of the principle of Dharma-nature (gu hosshi5 ri): As part of Suchness, plants are endowed with the principle of absolute reality. Accordingly, they do become buddhas but only in principle, not as the result of religious practice.

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These two positions correspond to the traditional Mahayana ideas of the Hosso school. The nonsentients cannot become buddhas through their own agency; their salvation either depends on the vision of a realized Buddha or remains latent. 3. Nondualism of karmic environment and karmic body (esho funi): "karmic environment and karmic body ... , being completely interpenetrated and interdependent, form a sole substance." Therefore, since Sakyamuni has attained enlightenment, the karmic environment in which he livedthat is, our universe-must also necessarily be enlightened. This is another form of Mahayana speculation on the nonsentients, similar to Kegon ideas on the subject. The nonsentients do become buddhas but still not autonomously, only as a consequence of Sakyamuni's enlightenment. 4· Autonomous and unconditioned nature of material phenomena (totai jisho): "each single grain of dust is in itself the substance of a Buddha" (buttai). For this reason, to become buddhas, "it is not necessary that plants acquire such things as the thirty-two marks [of the Buddha-body]." Plants are already buddhas in themselves "with their roots, stem or trunk, branches and leaves." In other words, "to become a buddha" simply means to have one's original form-that is, to be (and remain) the way one is. Here, we are on the threshold separating classical Mahayana and Japanese initiatory doctrines on the nonsentients, with a step meant to represent the Shingon doctrines from a Tendai perspective. 5· Innate possession of the three Buddha bodies (hongu sanjin): As part of Suchness, plants innately possess the spontaneous triple body of the Buddha (musa sanjin). In this sense, plants constitute the very substance of Buddha-nature independently of whether one is aware of it or not in a condition called by the text "the true Buddha before awakening" (kakuzen jitsubutsu). Actually, the original Buddha-nature of the three bodies can only be understood in a communication "between one Buddha and another," an expression that is explicitly used in the text to refer to "the perfectly enlightened ascetics"-to the Tendai authors of these doctrines. 6. Sublime and incomprehensible character ofDharma-nature (hossho fushigi): The substance of plants is absolute because it transcends the opposition of abstract principle (ri) and its concrete manifestations (ji). 7· To be endowed with the Middle Way (gu chudo): The identity of mind and the thinkable entails that plants are caused by the mind, but at the same time, plants are the substance of mind itself. For this reason, every utter-

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ance is true and always refers to an object or a quality of reality. The very possibility of thin king that "plants become buddhas" means that a level of reality exists in which this sentence refers to a state of the world and is true. This position assumes that the thinkable is the real-a sort of Japanese version of a Spinozan ideal universe. These last three steps summarize the Tendai hongaku doctrines relating to nonsentients becoming buddhas. The fact that plants become buddhas is represented in the text as always-already realized rather than as a process yet to be accomplished. Furthermore, in the last two steps, the salvation of plants does not take place through models external to the vegetal world itself, such as the life cycle of sentient beings and the marks of the Buddha-body. To sanction the soteriological status of the inanimates, the Kanko ruiju develops a psychophysiology of plants and the nonsentients based on the secret doctrine of the three kinds of mind. This is based on a citation attributed to Nagarjuna's Dazhidu lun but in fact included in Zhiyi's Mohezhiguan: The Great Treatise [i.e., the Dazhidu lun] states: "There are three kinds of heart/mind: yilituo (Jp. irida) ... , ganlituo (Jp. karida) ... , and zhiduoxin (]p. jittashin). Yilituo and ganlituo are the heart/mind of plants, while zhiduoxin is that of sentient beings. The idea that plants have no mind comes from Hinayana, it is not a Mahayana doctrine." 144 Karida (or ganlituo) is a transliteration of the Sanskrit word hrdaya, which refers to the anatomical heart, the "flesh pellet" (nikudan) as it was commonly called. Irida (yilituo) is perhaps another transliteration of the

same Sanskrit word and seems to refer to the center, the core of things. 145 Jittashin (zhiduoxin) comes from the Sanskrit citta and refers to the mind, the cognitive faculty located in the heart. This second heart, different from the physical heart, is characterized by the Kanko ruiju as the plants' faculty to recognize the seasons and act in accordance with them, such as sprouting in the spring and growing in the summer. 146 The Kanko ruiju further develops this passage by using the metaphors of front (ornate) and back (ura): There are three kinds of mind: irida, karida, and jittashin. Irida and karida are the minds of plants. The growth of branches and leaves in plants and the knowledge they have of the seasons' cycle is due to the irida. Whereas in sentient beings the jittashin is on the front (omote) and

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This heart-mind multiplicity and front-back dualism are not typical of plants alone but appear to be more general phenomena, as we see in another apocryphal passage from the Dazhidu lun quoted in the text: Sentient beings in the Formless [Realm] hide yilituo and ganlituo and their life is sustained by zhiduoxin. In the case of sentient beings living in the Heaven of No-thought (wuxiang tian, Jp. musoten), their life is sustained by yilituo and ganlituo, whereas the zhiduoxin does not seem to be directly present. 148 In other words, sentient beings in our world resemble those of the Formless Realm, whereas nonsentient beings resemble sentient beings in the Heaven of No-thought. 149 This doctrine explains why it is a mistake to consider plants as nonsentients; they do have a mind (jittashin) but hide it at the back of their being. Therefore, as the Kanko ruiju concludes, "there cannot be any doubt that plants are endowed with the trichiliocosm" (sanzen, the totality of the universe). This radical identification of sentients and nonsentients raises an important ethical problem. The Kanko ruiju asks: "If plants are endowed with a mind, does the action of cutting them constitute a karmic sin like that of killing living beings?" The question, which, as we may recall, had been asked already in the early ninth century by Encho in his epistular exchange with Guangxiu, 150 is legitimate not only logically but also in terms of Buddhist ethics because killing is one of the most serious sins resulting directly in rebirth into hell. The answer to that question, however, is formulated in a vague and complicated way. First, the Kanko ruiju states that "the doctrine of the nondualism of single thought (ichinen) and trichiliocosm (sanzen), karmic environment (eho) and karmic body (shobo), is the true principle understood by perfectly enlightened ascetics." In other words, these doctrines about the nature of sentients and nonsentients are true, but they can only be understood by the members of Tendai initiatory lineages, usually defined as "perfectly enlightened ascetics" (endon gyoja). 151 In particular, "one cannot cast doubts [on this doctrine] on the basis of the discrimination between good and evil," which is itself the result of attachment and afflictions. Enlightenment originating from these doctrines transcends good and evil, as in that state there are no precepts, no sins, and no good

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deeds. Criticism is then the result of wrong ideas put forth by unenlightened people. As the text points out: Kannon appeared one day as a fisherman and killed fish and birds. That was the action of an enlightened being. Our doctrine according to which plants are endowed with the trichiliocosm is also based on the vision of perfectly enlightened beings, and therefore should not be doubted or criticized. 152 This is a reference to a medieval tale that justified fishing as a sacred activity. Here, it is said that killing sentient beings and cutting trees do not constitute a sin if they can be explained as the actions of enlightened beings. The Kanko ruiju is not simply justifying the killing of animals or the cutting of trees. As the complexity of its argumentation makes clear, its authors (or author) were involved in a complex ideological endeavor. First, they (and their readers) were legitimizing themselves as "perfectly enlightened beings" by comparing themselves with Kannon. Second, they situated their doctrines in a conceptual space beyond criticism, a dimension of nondualism that supposedly transcended false notions of good and evil. Third, they justified common medieval economic practices (fishing, tree cutting); when performed with the authorization of Buddhist institutions, such actions ceased to be sins and turned into acts of compassion as in the story about Kannon mentioned earlier. Finally, they stated that all beings, sentient and nonsentient, can be made use of, even killed, provided their use or killing is justified by influential members of religious institutions. Passages like this-as we have seen, also found in Shingon texts about plants becoming buddhas-indicate that medieval doctrines on the Buddhahood of the nonsentients were not motivated simply by ecological concerns. They were conceptual pieces in a much more complicated ideological game about legitimacy, salvation, economics, and ultimately, power. C. Sanjushika no kotogaki

The main point of the Sanjushika no kotogaki is that plants do not become buddhas and do not even need to try because they are "always-already" abiding in an absolute and unconditioned state (joju). 153 From this, we can easily understand the heterodoxical nature of this text, which carries to the ultimate and paradoxical conclusion the logic of Tendai hongaku doctrines. 154

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One of the subjects discussed in the text concerns the question of whether plants can become buddhas, developing the argument in two different stages. First, the text counters the thesis that plants are nonsentient and therefore cannot become buddhas. Then, on a deeper initiatory level, it argues that plants do not become buddhas because they are eternal and immutable (joju) in their vegetal essence. The Sanjushika no kotogaki thus develops the concept of somoku jobutsu in a radical fashion by questioning the very idea of "becoming buddha" and by reconfiguring the status of a Buddha: According to our school, on the basis of the nondualism of sentient beings and environment, there is no doubt that plants become buddhas. However, this has countless interpretations. The received interpretation is such and such. The profound interpretation is that in reality plants do not become buddhas, as in our opinion. 155 The criticism is directed against positions such as those represented by the Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki, which is never mentioned, by suggesting that the soteriological potentialities of the vegetal world do not depend on homologies with sentient beings. Another passage describes well how the Sanjushika no kotogaki conceives of the salvation of the nonsentients: According to our school, although plants are defined as nonsentient beings, even as nonsentients they are endowed with the virtues and capacities of sentient beings. We do not mean to say that nonsentients turn into sentients first and then become buddhas. This is what people usually think, but it is absolutely not how things are. Simply, while being nonsentient, [plants] are also sentient. One should ponder all this very well. 156 As the text explains, since the entire universe (hokkai) is constituted of beings having "the Dharma in their mind," there is no need for them to change their essence. Everything in the ten worlds (jikkai)-sentient beings (shujo), the five aggregates, and plants in particular-is "stable and immutable" (joju). Accordingly, beings cannot undergo alterations and turn into something different from what they already are. 157 From this perspective, differences among phenomena are not just accidental but acquire an ontological dimension that makes them intrinsic and necessary to the very essence of things: Plants constitute the karmic environment (eho), whereas sentient beings are the karmic body (shobo). The karmic environment, precisely as karmic

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environment, produces the virtues of the Ten Worlds; the karmic body/ 58 precisely as humic body, produces the virtues of the karmic body. If plants became buddhas, then the karmic environment would decrease. Now, how could the inanimate entities in the trichiliocosm decrease? Should nonsentients turn into buddhas, the total number of Buddhas would increase, and the dimensions of the material world would decrease. As the text says, "at the end there would be only the realm of the Buddhas." It is precisely this possibility-a general homologation at the top of the cosmic hierarchy, or a general equality as the result of soteriology-that the initiatory lineages among which the Sanjushika no kotogaki circulated wanted to avoid. In fact, this text appears to reveal the political significance that the doctrines concerning the soteriology of plants could acquire in medieval Japan. If nonsentients became buddhas, the cosmic order, which the exponents of the hongaku tradition wanted static and immutable, would also undergo an irreparable change. One day, when everyone and everything had reached the state of Buddha, the cosmic hierarchy of beings lying at the foundations of social control in medieval Japan would dissolve into an egalitarian society-a perspective that the leading ideologues of the major religious institutions wanted to avoid at any cost. To prevent this possibility even on a merely theoretical level, they were ready to modify the very concept of "Buddha." In the Sanjushika no kotogaki, this term refers to the top of the cosmic hierarchy of beings and corresponds on earth to the members of the hongaku tradition and, more generally, to the ruling elites of kenmitsu religious institutions. I will return to these issues at the end of this chapter.

Tendai-related Doctrines on the Inanimates in Other Buddhist Schools The intellectual prestige, political influence, and economic power of Tendai institutions contributed to the diffusion of somoku jobutsu doctrines outside the circles of scholar-monks. They began to circulate in other Buddhist denominations, especially within certain Shugendo lineages as well as among rival religious traditions such as the Ikkoshu, Zen, and Hokkeshu.159 Even the Hosso scholar-monk Ryohen (rr94-I252) addressed Tendai ideas on the salvation of plants in an attempt to accommodate them within the Hosso tradition. 160 Religious reformers such as Shinran (rr73-r262),

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D6gen (I2oO-I253), and Nichiren (r222-1282), in particular, each took up in his own way the issue of the ontological and soteriological status of the nonsentients. 161 It is interesting to note that most of these approaches are essentially the same as traditional Mahayana doctrines on the nonsentients. That is, they do not usually consider the inanimate world as capable of attaining salvation autonomously; accordingly, the sacredness of plants is a consequence of a Buddha's, or one's own, enlightenment. Shinran apparently used the expression "plants and the territory all become buddhas" (somoku kokudo shikkai jobutsu) only at the age of eighty-five in one version of the Yuishinsho mon'i, a commentary to Sh6kaku's Yuishinsho dated r257. He seems to have understood that expression in terms of what the Kanko ruijit called the "vision of the Buddhas (shobutsu kangen)." For Shinran, the supreme and unconditioned Buddha (hossho hosshin) is signless and transcendent. It is only when it manifests itself in this world as Amida, as a skillful means (upaya) to save sentient beings (hoben hosshin), that his grace and salvific power permeate the entire universe, including nonsentient beings. 162 D6gen's attitude is more complex. Significantly, he does not seem interested in whether the environment becomes buddha or not. His attention focuses instead on the possibility that natural formations such as mountains, rivers, and trees preach the Dharma-what he calls mujo seppo ("the nonsentients preach the Dharma"). 163 This is an important issue in Buddhist thought. Indeed, what is the real status of nonsentient, material entities, if, as scriptures describing the Buddhist Pure Land maintain, they are able to teach the Dharma? Traditional exegesis tried to solve this problem, as we have seen, in two different ways. According to one intellectual thread, which can be summarized by the apocryphal passage from the Zhongyin jing referred to earlier, it is not the nonsentients that preach the Dharma spontaneously and out of their own agency, but it is the enlightened mind of a Buddha that is able to discern the words of the Dharma in the sounds and shapes of natural entities. Another interpretation, however, granted to nonsentients the status of sentients. To D6gen, the question of the nonsentients preaching the Dharma was related to the possibility of attaining enlightenment without the guidance of a master (a condition known as pratyekabuddha, Jp. engaku or byakushibutsu)-a spontaneous and unconditioned form of salvation (defined jinenchi) I will discuss in Chapter 4· As Bernard

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Faure explains in a passage dedicated to Keizan Jokin (r268-r325), but which also applies to Dogen himself, For him the inanimate in question should not be interpreted as the external world ... It involves the nondualistic state of mind toward which the practitioner should move, an "inanimate" awareness in the sense that, although perfectly lucid, it is stripped of all sentiment, all attachment, all discrimination. 164

Nichiren addressed the status of nonsentients in several short works, but the most complete treatment appears in a text entitled Somoku jobutsu kuketsu dated 1272. 165 Here, he predictably grounds the salvation of plants in the title of the Lotus Sutra. Myoho ("sublime Dharma," Sk. saddharma) refers to the becoming-buddha of sentient beings (ujo jobutsu), whereas renge ("lotus flower") indicates the becoming-buddha of nonsentients (hijo jobutsu). Nichiren also deals with the issue of the interpenetration and nondualism of sentients and nonsentients in an original and creative way. He writes: "'sentient beings' refers to the realization of Buddhahood of living beings; 'nonsentients' refers to the realization of Buddhahood of dead beings." 166 In particular, "when we sentient beings die, a stupa (toba) is erected and consecrated with an eye-opening ceremony (kaigen kuyo): this is the realization of Buddhahood of dead beings, and that corresponds to the realization of Buddhahood of plants." 167 Furthermore, "In our body there are both sentient and nonsentient entities. Nails and hair are nonsentients. When one cuts them, it does not hurt. In all other cases, if they are sentient entities, when one cuts them it hurts and one suffers." 168 Thus, for Nichiren, the salvation of the nonsentients is based on the Lotus Sutra, in particular on the "lotus" part of its title, on the one hand, and on the configuration of the human body, on the other. In this way, the dualism of sentient and nonsentient beings is overcome. Yet, Nichiren's emphasis is on the soteriological power of the scripture rather than on the intellectual and ideological possibilities offered by somoku jobutsu doctrines themselves, as in the case of Tendai and Shingon philosophical speculations. More radical in his view was Ippen (r239-r289), who argued, somewhat cryptically, that one is free from sa111sara when one realizes the absolute and unconditioned nature of the pine tree and the bamboo. 169 Although a statement such as this may be related to Shingon and Tendai initiatory doctrines, extant sources on Ippen's teachings do not expand on the doctrinal

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and ritual apparatus that was deemed necessary to attain such knowledge of the absolute nature of trees. To conclude, although the question of plants becoming buddhas was addressed in the Pure Land, Nichiren, and Zen traditions, the doctrines never attained the importance and relevance there that they enjoyed among the various Tendai and Shingon lineages.

Soteriological Implications of Initiatory Doctrines on Nonsentients An important issue of doctrines concerning nonsentients' Buddhahood is their place within Buddhist soteriology. The discourse of original enlightenment (hongaku) became predominant in Japanese Buddhism from the end of the Heian period (twelfth century), an age of social and cultural transformations. According to Hayami Tasuku, hongaku doctrines were a response to the widespread contemporary perception that Buddhism had entered its final phase (mappo)P 0 The initiatory teachings of the kenmitsu religious establishment opposed this notion by claiming that this world was in reality the Pure Land, and conceptions regarding plants becoming buddhas reinforced the idea with a sacralized vision of the environment (the territory and its furnishings) of everyday life. In doing so, they affected kenmitsu Buddhist soteriology primarily in two ways: by generating new concepts of Buddha and Buddhahood as related to social groups (initiatory lineages in particular) and by proposing a new notion of the place of salvation. Concerning the first effect, the impression is that hongaku teachings, both Tendai and Shingon, were an initiatory form of easy practices-the elite equivalent of simple practices for common people (igyo). Scholars usually emphasize the importance of meditation (kanjin, shikan) for the Tendai hongaku paradigm. However, Sueki Fumihiko notes how "instead ofTendai original meditative practices, the transmission of initiatory teachings of a purely formalistic character became more and more important." 171 Tendai visualization changed from meditation into a discursive, imaginific exercise; religious practice turned into the awareness of nondualism (funi) and the understanding of particular doctrines loosely related to Tendai meditation. Such understanding was acquired not through a mystical experience but through transmissions of secret knowledge (kuden) based on education processes and secret rituals called kanjo ("aspersion" or consecration). The

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same discursive and ritual turn of ascetic practices also took place within the Shingon elite tradition. 172 The transformation of hongaku doctrines thus ended in the paradoxical result that traditional religious practice was no longer necessary. Instead of meditation and devotion, initiation and awareness of secret meanings became paramount. Soteriology thus acquired a new dimension. The concept of somoku jobutsu, in its most radical formulations after the thirteenth century, did not establish the identity between trees and Buddhahood. It implied instead the awareness that trees and Buddhas, in their own different ways, were absolute, eternal, and abiding (jojit), and therefore, there was no need (or possibility) for the former to turn into the latter. The same was true for all beings and all forms of existence in the universe. The previously mentioned Sanjitshika no kotogaki gives us some evidence in this respect: In the expression "the character of the everyday world is eternal and abiding," the term "eternal and abiding" does not mean "solid, unchanging." "Everyday world" means "impermanence" and "differentiation." Impermanence, precisely as impermanence, is eternal and abiding, lacking nothing; differentiation, precisely as differentiation, is eternal and abiding, lacking nothing. 173 And furthermore: "Our tradition defines individual phenomena (ji) as true reality (jisso). Hell as such, the realm of hungry ghosts as such ... , the realm of buddhas as such, as they are, are the absolute nature of Dharma (honi), the true reality." 174 If phenomena are absolute, there is no place for rituals or ascetic practices because all actions, even unintentional ones, are parts and manifestations of Suchness. Hongaku thought abolished all distinctions between the absolute principle and its concrete occurrences. Phenomenal reality itself became the absolute. 175 Similar developments can also be observed within the Shingon tradition, with its emphasis on simple practices, on the sacred essence of everyday activities, on sexual and bodily metaphors, and in general, with a predominance of initiation and consecration rituals instead of sustained meditative and ascetic practices. In this way, the concept of Buddha and the practices to become a buddha went through significant alterations. Here, Tendai and Shingon texts stress two important points. The first is that differences between buddhas and sentient beings are a matter of epistemology, not ontology. In other words,

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one is a Buddha if he (or more problematically, she) possesses the initiatory knowledge handed down from one Buddha to another. The second point is that religious practices began to consist in the awareness of being identical with the absolute, defined as the Realm of the Lotus Karma (renge inga sekai) in the Tendai tradition and as the Pure Land of Esoteric Grandeur (mitsugon jodo) in Shingon. 176 Statements such as "the Dharmadhatu in its totality is a lotus flower. We are a lotus flower. In our chest there is a lotus flower," 177 as well as Shingon conceptualizations of the five internal organs (gozo) as a microcosmic reproduction of the Dharma Realm, were probably based on visualization texts and related practices, but it is not clear whether such visualizations were actually performed. Rather, it was most likely enough to receive such initiatory teachings emphasizing one's always-already being a Buddha; specialized religious practices were no longer necessary. This was reinforced by the fact that everyday activities were considered religious practices, even those contrary to Buddhist ethics. After all, "afflictions and enlightenment are identical" (bonno soku bodai) because "the Dharma Realm is the substance of afflictions," as Tendai texts tirelessly repeat. 178 Let us now turn to the second effect of the hongaku reformulation of Buddhist soteriology-namely, the revision of the place of salvation on the basis of ideas of territory, materiality, and objects. Somoku jobutsu doctrines were, in short, a step in a process aimed at sacralizing everything. In this regard, it is possible to question William LaFleur's claim that the cultural and political crisis of the twelfth century brought some Buddhists, in particular Chujin and other members of hongaku lineages, "to regard nature as the proper locus of salvation." 179 We should note, however, that Buddhism has always recognized the role of nature (i.e., of a realm separate from the condition of secular everyday life) as a primary place for asceticism. This idea had already acquired a particular relevance in Japan by the end of the Nara period with the so-called Jinenchi lineage (Jinenchishu) 180 well before the formation of systematic hongaku thought. Thus, the development of cults centered on sacred mountains was not just the consequence of a crisis of elite cultural models, nor was it caused by the attribution to nature of the status of salvific locus par excellence. And furthermore, sacred mountains, a highly culturalized space, were not the totality of nature, which, for the most part, had no soteriological relevance in actual religious discourse and practice. 181

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Nevertheless, it is true that some No dramas present trees as endowed with salvific power. 182 In LaFleur's words, "the tree as tree performs for man a religious role and in its own ordinary mode of being is an adequate substitute for the rites and actions normally associated with religious cultus." 183 Thus, "the discussion that began with the question of the possibility of salvation for plants and trees eventually led to the position that there was a salvation for man which was derived from plants and trees." 184 However, this fact did not necessarily imply a particular interest in nature per se. Kenmitsu doctrines established a necessary relationship between place, tools, and methods of religious practice and salvation; in this way, salvation could be assured. 185 The environment could acquire a soteriological value but simply as the location of religious practice. In this sense, the natural environment was no different from a temple hall, a meditation hut, a cemetery, or even the body of the practitioner. In addition, the learned monks (gakuryo) who wrote the texts on the salvation of plants were generally based in urban temples and had no interest in valorizing the natural world, which was the realm of hijiri and yamabushi, their rivals for the control of the religious field. 186 Hence, the Buddhist discourse on the salvation of plants did not aim to sanction nature's soteriological power. Its main goal was a very different one with a political and ideological character. As I will argue in Chapter 4, the attribution of absolute value to the whole of reality, and especially to the nonsentients, was influential in transforming everything into a sacred dimension and served to create a Buddhist ideology that justified the kenmitsu institutions' attempt to control vast tracts of land and the people residing in and working on it.

Examples of Popularization of the Buddhist Philosophy of the Environment In addition to scholarly discussions about the ontological and soteriological status of vegetal and inanimate objects in general, these issues were addressed on another discursive level: literary texts and popular beliefs and practices concerning the supposedly animated nature of plants and other material entities. Such texts and rituals were either part of the folklore used by members of religious institutions in their teaching and preaching activities or adaptations of doctrines used in narrations, performances, and poems.

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The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

The Yokyoku taikan, the established canon of No plays, includes 236 works; among these, twenty-eight refer directly or indirectly to the idea that nonsentients become buddhas (somoku jobutsu). In those plays, most dating from the Muromachi period, plants appear as human beings and, after some kind of exposure to Buddhist teachings, they are presented as becoming buddhas. In particular, in seven pieces, the main actor (shite) personifies a spirit of a plant or tree (ki no sei), as in Kakitsubata, Basho, and Saigyi5-zakura; in one play, Sesshoishi, he represents the spirit of a stone. 187 In the No play Basho, attributed to Konparu Zenchiku (1405-ca. 1470), the spirit of a plantain tree, attracted by the reading of the Lotus Sutra by an itinerant monk, manifests itself as a young woman. The play states that even nonsentient entities, as manifestations of the principle that "all dharmas are endowed with the true aspect [of reality]" (shoho jisso), have Buddha-nature and therefore become buddhas. 188 It should be noted, however, that this drama does not mention vegetal Buddhahood but simply the uniform and nondiscriminating nature of the Dharma preached by the Buddha. In another play, Kakitsubata, also attributed to Zenchiku, the female protagonist reveals herself to be the "spirit of an iris flower" (kakitsubata no sei). She says that the author of the Ise monogatari, Ariwara no Narihira, was actually a bodhisattva who appeared in Japan and wrote poems to save sentient beings; even inanimate entities such as herself, by hearing those poems, can become buddhas. In this No, there are no doctrinal explanations, just mention of Buddhist terms such as hongaku or shinnyo and the expression "plants and the territory all become buddhas." Saigyozakura, by Zeami, tells of the spirit of an old cherry tree who speaks to the poet Saigyo (rrr8-n9o) 189 in a way that leads both Saigyo and the tree to enlightenment.190 Teika tells of the spirit of the aristocratic poet and literary theorist Fujiwara Teika entering a vine (kazura) and clinging to the stone stupa of Princess Shikishi, his lover. 191 Taima explains the use of vegetal threads to make the Taima mandala as an instance of "plants becoming buddhas." 192 This occurrence is conceptually similar to earlier stories about trees cut to make Buddhist images, which I will discuss in Chapter 4. 193 Texts also frequently cite an apocryphal passage from the Chuingyo, which was known in many variants. 194 Another important source for these narrations was the chapter of the Lotus Sutra on the "Parable of Medicinal Herbs." 195 Buddhist literature in fact contained several tales related to the animated nature of plants, such as flowers opening their petals at night

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after listening to a poem composed by Chinese Empress Wu, pine needles turning west indicating the way to India to Xuanzang, or the patalt tree in Pataliputra in India, which turned into a human being. 196 The Soto Zen patriarch Keizan Jokin also wrote in his autobiography that he attained arhatship in a previous life as a tree spirit. 197 All of these motifs are usually understood as manifestations of animistic or animatistic beliefs that supposedly lay at the ground of doctrines on the salvation of nonsentients. 198 However, as we will see in Chapter 4, Japanese Buddhist ideas on the status of nonsentients that we have discussed so far were not a continuation of pre-existing animistic beliefs. If there was an awareness of pre-existing beliefs at all, which is not easy to ascertain from the sources, what Buddhist intellectuals did was provide an alternative explanation of the status of "spirits" and animated entities in general, including deities (kami). A common feature of most popular texts and ritual practices concerning trees and other nonsentients is that in such a fictional and mythical universe, material objects are not full-fledged sentient beings but material receptacles of spirits (ki no sei: "tree spirits" but also human souls). Accordingly, what is presented as becoming a buddha is not literally the plant as such, in its direct material existence, as repeatedly asserted in the plays, but the spirit abiding in it. In this sense, the salvation for the nonsentients described in these texts is radically different from the soteriology developed by Shingon and Tendai initiatory lineages we have discussed so far. In fact, Shingon and Tendai esoteric Buddhism, as well as Tendai initiatory hongaku doctrines, appear to have had little influence on the development of "popular" texts addressing in artistic fashion the Buddhist philosophy of objects and the environment. 199 It seems to employ the same terminology but refers to a different doctrinal and mythical register-one that was used already in ancient Japan by Buddhists to represent their conquest over local deities, which were believed to be trees or to inhabit them. Besides this textual tradition, numerous practices developed in medieval Japan dealing with inanimate objects, and trees in particular, as we will see in more detail in Chapter 5. Here, I will mention that tree cutters (kikori) engaged in ritual activities before and after felling a tree. 20 Carpenters (daiku, bansho) 201 and sculptors of Buddhist images (busshi) also performed rituals before beginning their work on wood. These instances seem to indicate the belief in the existence of a sacred presence in trees and wood. In these cases, ritualization was carried out to "sacralize" the object

°

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The Buddhist Philosophy of Objects

and overcome separation between secular matter and the sacred sputt that was supposed to inhabit it. 202 Furthermore, as will be discussed in Chapter 6, memorial services (kuyo) for specific objects developed between the late medieval and early modern periods. This practice is still very popular today and has developed into "funerals" for needles, dolls, talismans, professional tools, and so forth. The cultural role of inanimate objects in premodern Japan can also be gauged by other sources. Some of the most systematic treatments of Shingon doctrines about nonsentients becoming buddhas (those written by In'yii) were roughly contemporaneous with the production and circulation of narratives as well as painted scrolls about objects that turned into ghosts to haunt humans, commonly known as Tsukumogami ki. In this context, the conceptual proximity between Shingon elite doctrines and the contents of popular narratives on objects is striking. When read together, they·give us a better picture of the late medieval-early modern Japanese imaginaire (in the sense indicated by Jacques Le Goff) about things. 203

Conclusion The discourse on the ontological and soteriological status of nature, the nonsentients, and material objects received particular attention in Japan and showed several developments in a way that cannot be compared to the intellectual developments of these issues in other Buddhist cultures. The interest of Japanese Buddhists in these subjects remains a puzzle to scholars, who tend to explain it away as a consequence of a supposedly ancestral Japanese animism. As we have seen, in China, the problem of whether the inanimates had Buddha-nature or not-an issue not widely discussed among Indian Buddhist thinkers-was primary an issue of lineage selfdefinition vis-a-vis other lineages. It may be true that the primary concern for Chinese Buddhists was salvation for sentients, which left the status of the nonsentients to a more abstract level of inquiry. 204 However, as we have seen at the beginning of this chapter, in Chinese popular religion and in Daoism, there were ideas about the essentially animate nature of supposedly inanimate entities in ways that strongly remind one of the Japanese case; the same appears true for India as well. Thus, the central issue here seems to be not the existence in a culture of animistic ideas and their impact but the interactions of the Buddhist establishment (and its intellectuals in

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particular) with such ideas and practices. In India and China, Buddhist institutions in general chose to differentiate themselves-at least in doctrinal discourses, if not always in actual practice-from pre-existing local religious traditions. However, in Japan, Buddhism (including its elite forms) undertook a process of systematic attempt at assimilation and transformation of non-Buddhist ideas and practices. If this is true, ideas about the possibility of salvation for inanimate entities (or lack thereof) tell us more about the role of Buddhism in Asian societies rather than the degree of importance of animist outlooks within those societies. Indeed, plants appear in Buddhist discourses on materiality as a synecdoche for the concrete, material realm in which sentient beings transmigrate. This material realm is envisioned as a repository of resources that can be employed to produce Buddhist artifacts or, according to the esoteric tradition, as a huge receptacle of paraphernalia employed in soteriology and systematized in the sanmaya mandala. Indeed, it is important to notice that Buddhism generated, in addition to a philosophical discourse on objects and materiality, other discourses in which objects (exemplified by trees) are utilized in economic, political, and ideological terms.

B THE BUDDHIST SYSTEM OF OBJECTS

A recent dictionary of Buddhist sacred implements, a soft-cover pocket book on liturgical tools and accessories, lists some 26o items from aka (Sk. argha), consecrated water used in Buddhist ceremonies and its related tools, to the waniguchi double cymbal, passing through clerical robes and accessories (the three robes, staff, scepters), temple ornaments (banners, garlands, canopies, bells, boxes, lanterns, tabernacles), altar implements (vases, vessels, little stupas), musical instruments (biwa lute, cymbals, mokugyo drum), incense tools (incense burners, various kinds of incense), ritual paraphernalia (vajra thunderbolts, etc.), reliquaries (of various shapes, dimensions, and materials), rosaries, and so forth. 1 Catalogs of sacred objects and ritual implements are not a modern phenomenon. In the Edo period (r6oo-r868), numerous illustrated catalogs were printed, and some of them are now included in the iconographic section of the Japanese Buddhist Canon. For example, the Sanbo butsugusho is a complete illustrated collection of a large number of tools and objects that defined the life of a high priest in a major temple and constitutes a sort of chart of the Buddhist system of objects in the Edo period (see Figures 2.1 and 2.2). 2 A smaller version is the Kesatozu, which contains images of the most important liturgical implements-a sort of catalog of the central

The Buddhist System o f Objects

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tools of the priestly profession: bell, vase, shakujo staff, incense burner, ka~aya priest's robe, overcoat, cushions, the scepter held by the priest during sermons (Jp. nyoi, Sk. anuruddha), bowl, horagai shell trumpet, and rosary. This text also provides explanations on the doctrinal meanings of the features of each object. 3 Another document, the ]uzu zu, is particularly

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The Buddhist System of Objects

F r G u RE 2. 2.

Buddhist ritual implements: rosaries

s o u RCE : From Sanbo butsugusho, TZ ro: 132r b. Courtesy of D a izo shuppa n.

interesting in this respect because of its indications of several doctrinal and cosmological principles and of correspondences between the rosary beads and the buddhas in the mandala. 4 The Daigoji Sanboin narabini Henchiin kanjo dogu eyo sunshakuto presents a number of objects and indicates their provenance and lineage, thus emphasizing a relation between specific sacred objects and certain monks, places, and Dharma lineages. 5 The Kanjo dogu hongi also presents pictures of a number of liturgical objects used in consecration rituals (kanjo ). 6 These modern and premodern official catalogs of Buddhist objects, no matter how detailed, still exclude a whole series of objects. They do not cover statues, images, portraits, and other "art" objects. They ignore "unofficial"

The Buddhist System of Objects

6r

gadgets, tools, and objects, sometimes not directly related to liturgy or ritual but very important for the religious life of East Asian Buddhists, such as funeral paraphernalia (butsudan, sotoba, ihai, etc.), scriptures and related accessories (an entire subfield of objects in itself), initiatory documents (kirigami, injin), and amulets and talismans. In addition, more recently, there has been a proliferation of gadgets such as postcards, temple stamps, souvenirs, temple literature (illustrated admission tickets, pamphlets, journals, videos, home pages, etc.) that is practically impossible to catalog and classify. These objects and their related services all have specific targets: professional clergy, children, young people, elders, men, women, professionals, heads of households, and so forth. An interesting function of these objects is that they sanctify tokens of modern life (cars, store business, etc.) by giving them the mark, as it were, of Buddhism. They are related in one way or another to some of the most important moments in the life of the Japanese: birth, study, starting a professional career, finding a partner, family life, old age, and death. As Jean Baudrillard has noted about objects in general, all these Buddhist objects are "reflection[s] of a total order." In particular, "[b]eyond their practical function ... objects ... have a primordial function as vessels, a function that belongs to the register of the imaginary" in the sense that they are a "reflection of a whole view of the world" that they contribute to instantiate and materialize. 7 As Baudrillard explains, All this makes up a complete mode of life whose basic ordering principle is nature as the original substance from which value is derived. In creating or manufacturing objects, man makes himself, through the imposition of a form (i.e. through culture), into the transubstantiator of nature ... Man is thus bound to the objects around him by the same visceral intimacy, mutatis mutandis, that binds him to the organs of his own body. 8 Baudrillard is making here some general considerations on everyday objects in modern Western societies, but his insights can be applied to Japanese Buddhist sacred objects as well. According to one of the forms of Buddhist philosophical discourses dominant until the end of the Tokugawa period, that of esoteric Buddhism, icons and liturgical implements constituting the material world of Japanese Buddhists were in fact created according to a "basic ordering principle," as Baudrillard says, defined by the various forms of Buddhist cosmology. In general, the Dharma Realm (Sk. dhamadhiitu,

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Jp. hokkai) and the unconditioned Buddha-body (Sk. dharmakiiya, ]p. hosshin) were envisioned "as the original substance from which value is derived" -to borrow Baudrillard's words again. Objects, and sacred objects in particular, are privileged manifestations of these entities and their value. This is particularly evident in esoteric interpretations of rosaries and family altars. By producing and using them, humans on the one hand transubstantiate nature (the material substance of the Dharmakaya) into material culture; on the other hand, they also transubstantiate themselves by manipulating objects that embody the original, underlying order of the cosmos. Objects become external appendices of the human body-in itself already a microcosm reproducing the Buddha-body and the Dharma Realm-and as such, they enable human beings to become buddhas through the use of the Buddha's own objects. Religious objects thus play an important function as representations of Buddhist doctrines, values, and worldviews. A particularly significant object in this respect is the relic. As Baudrillard writes, "The significance of the relic is that it makes it possible to enshrine the identity of God or that of the soul of a dead person within an object. And there is no relic without a reliquary: the value 'slides' from the one to the other, and the reliquary, often made of gold, becomes the unmistakable signifier of authenticity, and hence more effective as a symbol." 9 In this sense, all objects brought back from China to japan in the process of the transmission of the Dharma, or handed down from master to disciple, gifts from emperors, aristocrats, and so on, all share to a certain extent the status of the relic as embodiments of authenticity-not just "authenticity" in general, but the authenticity and truth of a specific religious tradition, lineage, and practice. We may note that funerary objects also function as relics because they are envisioned as direct representations/manifestations of the dead-as-buddhas. The Buddha is thus fragmented, dispersed, and reduced to everyday family property, with enormous cultural, not to mention doctrinal, consequences. 10 Buddhist objects can also be expressions of what Baudrillard calls "nostalgia for origins" and "obsession with authenticity": 11 "The immemorialization, in the concrete form of an object, of a former being-a procedure equivalent, in the register of the imaginary, to a suppression of time." 12 This is particularly evident in objects directly related to a lineage (including ancestor worship) because they insert their owners into an ideal series connecting them to their masters/ancestors, the great patriarchs of the

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past, and ultimately to Sakyamuni in India. The suppression of time in an eternal past-present also involves, thus, a suppression of space; the object transfigures the here-and-now into a there-and-then, and vice versa. Moreover, as Baudrillard writes, it gives human beings "the possibility, from the present moment onwards, of continually experiencing the unfolding of [their] existence in a controlled, cyclical mode, symbolically transcending a real existence the irreversibility of whose progression [they are] powerless to affect." 13 Thus, sacred objects contribute to the creation of a virtual space transcending everyday reality-what Ernesto De Martino called metahistory. 14 As envisioned by De Martino, metahistory is a plane of existence, posited by a culture, in which the sense of human actions is already decided and positively accomplished. When negativity (danger, crisis, anxiety) afflicts an individual's historical existence, a metahistorical discourse can be activated; it de-historicizes the actual, concrete situation in a stable set of representations based in myth and religion. As Maurice Godelier has written, "the sacred always has to do with power, insofar as the sacred is a certain kind of relationship with the origin, and insofar as the origin of individuals and of groups has a bearing on the places they occupy in a social and cosmic order." 15 Often, individual existence is metahistorically represented as influenced by sacred powers that can be controlled or tamed through ritual, which also involves the manipulation of specific objects. According to Godelier, "people project onto things and embody in the matter and form of these ... objects the imaginary kernels and the symbols of the real relations they entertain with others and with the world around them." 16 Psychologists have shown that objects and their manipulation contribute to the stabilization of the human experience. As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi has written, "Our addiction to materialism is in large part due to a paradoxical need to transform the precariousness of consciousness into the solidity of things. Our body is not large, beautiful, and permanent enough to satisfy our sense of self. We need objects to magnify our power, enhance our beauty, and extend our memory into the future." 17 Such magnification, enhancement, and extension often involve the positing of a metahistorical dimension. Religious objects in particular, used at critical junctures of one's existence (rites of passage, particularly death; interaction with the sacred dimension of reality; etc.) contribute to the production of metahistory and its representation in everyday life.

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Religious objects are commonly described as catalysts of faith and religious behavior. It is not enough to purchase them; one must also develop certain states of mind and behave in a certain way. The following are the instructions for the use of a talisman (o-fuda) to generate money sold at Saijoji, a Soto Zen monastic training center: r. Maintain a spirit of worship toward the kami and buddhas. 2.

Maintain a spirit of respect toward the ancestors.

3· Maintain good relations with your family members.

4· Strive to be healthy. 5· Take great care with your food and possessions.

6. Live within your means. 7· Make your work your hobby. 8. Always attain your objective.

9· Never put your faith solely in money.

ro. Live a life of gratitude. 18 Together with trivial common-sense suggestions (4, 5, 6), we find a plea for "traditional" values: worship of traditional deities (r), emphasis on family values (2, 3), hard work as the only focus of life (7, 8), denial of modern materialism (9), acceptance and respect for established order (ro). This is the way objects produce their spiritual effects: "peace of mind" and a fuller sense of being in control of one's life or, at least, a sense that one's lifestyle is righteous and in conformity with accepted social rules. There is no space here to radically criticize the social order or to question one's position in it. The users/consumers of sacred commodities owe their peace of mind not to their own actions but to the interactions of their actions and the intervention of the sacred commodities themselves. In other words, sacred commodities are effective because they are not mere skillful means (upaya) but real presences of buddhas and kami. It would be difficult today to justify this vision in rational terms, but in premodern Japan ontology, cosmology, and epistemology all concurred in providing solid grounds for such a status of sacred objects. However, it has also been argued that, by linking peace of mind with a system of sacred commodities that should direct the life of individuals, religious institutions are also actively "manufacturing anxiety" in a cycle that generates the need for new sacred commodities while at the same

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time advertising their efficacy. 19 In this way, what Reader and Tanabe call "marketing truth" 20 is actually the discursive creation of a "reality effect" about certain truth claims concerning the efficacy of sacred commodities (objects and rituals). Such a reality effect would contribute to consumers' peace of mind by reinforcing a sense of traditional morality in their everyday actions (to be on the right path). This in turn would generate the need for other sacred commodities either to express gratitude for the efficacy of the previous commodities or to respond to other anxieties produced by the system. Despite their functions as representations of stability, immutability, and the nonquotidian, objects, including sacred objects, are not eternal. They are fragile; they fail to function and need constant care to protect them against wear-and-tear, accidents, and intentional and unintentional violence. This is perhaps the major ambiguity of objects as representations of an unconditioned dimension transcending the everyday but at the same time dramatically vulnerable and transient. This might explain the development of rituals for the memorialization of exhausted everyday objects and the constant need to care for liturgical implements emphasized by Buddhist apologetics. Buddhism classifies sacred objects on the basis of the modality in which the sacred is produced or manifested in them. We have alternative bodies (bunshin), condensations of the cosmos (mandalas), sacred receptacles, and objects sacralized through immolation. 21 Alternative bodies are doubles of the deities, sort of fractal reproductions of the original sacred entity, in which the totality is identical to its parts or fragments. Among this category of objects are relics (shari) but also talismans and amulets (o-mamori and o-fuda). Although relics are parts of the body of a Buddha, a saint, or a past master, amulets and talismans must be "charged" with the "spirit" of the deities of which they are alternate bodies. Mandalas are defined as condensations of the totality of the cosmos; professional tools (e.g., the merchants' scale: hakari), ritual implements (e.g., the vajra club), and objects belonging to a category between these two (e.g., the shakuhachi flute played by komuso monks of the Fuke sect) are understood as mandalas. Sacred receptacles are objects whose status is situated somewhere between the two previous categories; examples include the family Buddha altar (butsudan) and the funerary tablet (ihai). The family altar, modeled after the cosmic mountain Mount Sumeru and playing the function of a feretory, and ultimately,

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of a temple, is in itself a cosmological model but not necessarily a mandala (because it is not coextensive with the actual form of the cosmic Buddha). The funerary tablet (doubled into ihai kept at home and sotoba kept at the family temple) is modeled after a stupa, which is both a cosmological model and a mandala, as in the five-element mandala (gorin mandara), but it contains the spirit of the ancestors rather than being the ancestors. Finally, objects sacralized through immolation include old objects for which memorial services (kuyo) are held. In this sense, these objects function as sacrificial offerings. Although all of the objects mentioned are consecrated after construction by summoning within them the presence of the buddhas (and in this sense, they are equivalent to buddha images), everyday objects are consecrated at the end of their life before they are disposed of (and in this sense, they function a little as dead ancestors).

Buddhist Ambivalent Attitudes Toward Objects The Buddhist attitude toward sacred objects is complex and fundamentally ambivalent. In general, there are two main ways of addressing objects. In a negative perspective, objects are dismissed as manifestations of popular ignorance and superstition focusing on materiality rather than on the spirituality of the Buddhist teachings. In a positive perspective, in contrast, objects are described as skillful means (upiiya), tools used to promote religiosity and to lead people to higher levels of spirituality. 22 Both these poles in the spectrum of attitudes toward objects assume that objects are not the "real thing" of Buddhism, as it were; instead, Buddhism-ideally, at least-could (or perhaps, should) do without objects. Such a position is not simply tinged with Protestant overtones because it occurs in one form or another throughout the history of Buddhism. The role of objects in Buddhism has also been explained sociologically in opposite ways. According to the typical textbook interpretation of the development of Japanese Buddhism, for example, the elites of the Nara and Heian periods in Japan focused their religiosity on objects because of their passion for complicated rituals and their desire to be reborn in a world of riches like the one in which they were living. Commoners, in contrast, preferred simpler, nonritualistic, and spiritual forms of piety. 23 Another vision, however, maintains that it is the unenlightened, ignorant commoners who are attracted by the materiality of objects, whereas the true enlightened

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ones (often identified with elite members of the clergy) are able to transcend it. It is not difficult to see the problems with such characterizations, which, in their ahistorical oversimplifications, idealize a certain social class and support specific sectarian forms of Buddhism. Either way, sacred objects are usually associated with an inauthentic religious experience, as opposed to an idealized spiritual experience that does not need any material support. Objects are thus considered manifestations of unenlightened fetishism that needs to be overcome in the quest of a more authentic form of spirituality. Such downplaying of the role of religious objects is largely the result of the exegetical activity of Buddhist scholars, both academic and religious, who have created an artificial hiatus separating scriptural doctrines (supposedly related to pure spirituality) and practical religious activities (supposedly the manifestation of unenlightened attitudes still attached to material objects). The clergy has always been well aware of the connections between religious objects and afflictions (Sk. kle§a, Jp. bonno). Prophecies on the end of the Dharma indicate an incorrect emphasis on objects as one of the most powerful signs of the degeneration of the sartzgha and of the end of Buddhism. Particularly interesting in this respect is a section of the Da baoji jing, in which the Buddha explains the situation during the final age of the Dharma. At that time, the text argues, the bodhisattvas will not use sacred objects (including relics and stupas) merely as upaya to lead laypeople to the righteous path of Buddhism. For them, the use of objects will become a goal in itself, detached from learning, meditation, the acquisition of wisdom, and the manifestation of compassion. To these degenerated bodhisattvas, worship of stupas and relics will be a job like any other. To them, relics will become vehicles of afflictions, suffering, ignorance, and rebirth rather than tools for liberation. 24 Texts like this warned the Buddhists about the ambiguity of sacred objects, which can be effective tools for salvation but also terrible weapons of suffering. Such ambiguity was probably one of the features of sacred objects that most captured the attention of esoteric Buddhist exegetes. A tension pervades the history of Buddhism as a religion of people who have renounced materiality on an ideal plan and as a religion emphasizing the sacred, soteriological role of objects on a practical level. Thus, we find both statements encouraging the use of material objects (icons, relics, offerings) in worship and criticism of such practices as indications of the end of Buddhism. The worship of relics is criticized in favor of worship of

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Dharma, but the latter became a cult focused on texts as material artifacts. Although the ideal dimension of Buddhism is indicated in Vinaya texts (prescribing only a few indispensable objects as the endowment of a monk), more practical aspects are addressed in numerous other texts, especially in esoteric scriptures and commentaries. Such tension runs through the entire history of Buddhism and could explain the problematic and contrasted role of materiality in Buddhist societies. It is in this context that one should perhaps interpret recurrent manifestations of aniconism or outright iconoclastic attitudes, especially in the Chan/Zen discourse. 25 And yet, the importance of religious objects, their manifold uses, and the practical benefits they are supposed to produce are sanctioned by countless sutras and canonical texts throughout the history of Buddhism and not only in Japan. Perhaps, this ambivalent attitude toward objects and materiality in general originates in a central Buddhist concept, that of merit making, and its related practices of gift giving, envisioned as essential to securing good karma. The idea that material donations (objects or services) to religious institutions and their members (the sarrzgha) would generate spiritual benefits is crucial in our investigation of Buddhist materiality because it means that material objects can be transfigured through ritual action into sacred entities (thus devoid of their strictly material, profane value). On the other hand, it is clear that the acquisition of merit (good karma) was not envisioned as providing just spiritual benefits. On the kammatic level, that of everyday activities, in particular, merit was believed to result in a betterment of the material conditions of profane, secular life as well (what in Japan is known as "worldly benefits," genze riyaku). This circular transformation of the material into the spiritual and of the profane into the sacred and back forms the basis of the sacred Buddhist economy, in which a community of renunciants survived (ideally, at least) thanks to laypeople's donations in exchange for "spiritual" services. The intrinsically dangerous nature of this exchange was recognized by religious institutions when they issued their warning in the form of prophecies on the end of the Dharma mentioned earlier. However, even these prophecies could be given an unforeseen twist. In Japan, where most Buddhist denominations, at least since the late Heian period, explicitly envisioned themselves as providing ways to cope with the end of Dharma (mappo ), what eschatological prophecies would con-

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sider a "deformed" and inflated use of materiality was regarded instead as the unavoidable norm of the time. This might explain the importance that Japanese Buddhism attributes to material objects and to ritualized interactions with them-an importance that is often explained as a way to address ignorant people, if not as false conscience. It is not clear why ordinary Buddhists should be considered attracted by Buddhist religious objects (not to mention, why they should be considered ignorant) or why Buddhist systematic concerns with materiality should be explained in terms of false conscience-as if scholars were free from such material and intellectual constraints and were thus able to grasp the truth directly without mediation of systems of representation. Although I am aware that ignorance (not just among the little-educated masses) and false conscience (cheating) might play a role in interactions with sacred objects, I do think that when materiality comes to play such an important role, it should be accounted for in systematic, structural terms as related to the ways in which the Japanese Buddhist tradition envisioned itself. These ways varied according to social class, historical period, and regional location. Thus, the idea of the final age of Dharma might have been influential in the treatment of objects during the early medieval period. But later, other determinations might have arisen, such as the need to cope with commodification brought about by economic development in the late middle ages, the imposition to display orthodox Buddhist behavior in the Edo period, and late-capitalist attitudes toward objects and their atmospherics in contemporary Japan. The orthodoxy and legitimacy of the role of sacred objects were by no means justified only through the concept of upaya. Premodern doctrinal discussions about the status and role of objects attempted to give ontological, cosmological, and epistemological grounds to religious objects. The Buddhist philosophical approaches to objects show a remarkable continuity among statues, mandalas, and other icons, sacred texts, and ritual implements and everyday objects on each other. All are envisioned as transformations of the Buddha-body involved in some kind of salvific activity. The difference is mainly in the explicit presence of a "sentient principle" (mind), which is potential or hidden in inanimate things and actualized and manifest in icons after the performance of a special ritual. The proliferation of objects endowed with salvific power helps bridge the fundamental difference between the Dharma and its transmission. If everything is endowed

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with salvific power but certain objects are better catalysts for that power, then, the more you have, the better. Shimizu Tadashi makes an explicit connection between the use of sacred objects and the attainment of Buddhahood. He writes: "Buddhist sacred objects (butsugu) are tools for the worship (kuyo) of Buddhas ... and ancestors ... but Buddhists believe that through worship one becomes buddha." 26 This is possible because religious objects are essentially different in function from everyday objects. As a consequence, the use of sacred implements generates a sensibility that is different from that of everyday activities. Shimizu adds: "Buddhist objects are organically related to rituals; rituals reflect the Buddhist's life (understood as both the Buddha's path and Buddha's attainment [butsudo]); and the life of a Buddhist is centered on the clergy (sa1pgha)." 27 Here, Shimizu refers to a connection between sacred objects and the clergy dating back to the origin of the Mahayana tradition in India that determines the righteous lifestyle of Japanese Buddhists even today. Shimizu explains his position by a long historical and doctrinal excursus on the development of stupa and relics cults in India. He argues that the use of sacred objects in ritual is an extension of these ancient Indian cults that reflected the influence of Buddhist spirituality on the religiosity of laypeople. 28 Shimizu suggests that the development of cult centers determined the proliferation of sacred objects, already classified by the Vinaya into three main categories: "temple's implements" (garangu), "consecration implements" (kanjogu), and "deportment accessories" (igigu). These were related to the sacred place where ceremonies took place, to ceremonies themselves, and to the clergy and ritual specialists, respectively. 29 In other words, sacred objects are embodiments of the spirit of Buddhism.

Objects and Dharma Transmission In the context of the status of sacred objects in the Buddhist tradition, it is interesting to note that Dharma transmission itself was often envisioned as a form of sacred transaction involving the exchange of gifts. A paradigmatic narrative is that of the first transmission between Sakyamuni and Mahakasyapa, sanctioned by Sakyamuni's gift of his own robe to his disciple. 30 This narrative was further elaborated in Japan within the Soto Zen tradition by a number of kirigami documents focusing on the Dharma robe (ka~aya). 31 As Bernard Faure writes:

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The robe is taken usually as a simple symbol, a "token of transmission" that "expresses the faith," but ... the importance of the robe in the Chan imaginaire goes far beyond that of a simple symbol of transmission. It constitutes the Buddhist equivalent of a dynastic treasure (bao) ... The Dharma robe and the Dharma itself are complementary, interdependent, forming a single bipartite reality. By metonymy we come to the idea that there really is an identity between the robe and the Dharma. As a consequence, those who wear the Buddhist ka~aya, the Dharma robe, acquire Buddha bodies. 32 The Dharma transmission also became a model for succession in general within the Buddhist world; a master transmitted to his disciples not only the Dharma but also his own secular possessions, envisioned as part of a more general sacred economy. 33 As Jacqueline Stone has written concerning the medieval Tendai hongaku tradition, there is evidence that master-disciple transmissions sometimes involved some form of financial transaction ... Such transactions were open to various interpretations. The Keiran shuyoshit defends them as offerings made for the Dharma's sake ... ; Dharma transmissions are to be "purchased according to one's ability." Less charitable readings represent these transactions as a sort of crude commercialism. For example, the Risshokan jo attributed to Nichiren criticizes Tendai monks who "produce some writing at their whim ... and sell it for a high price." 34 All of these examples point to a fundamental mechanism of Buddhismnamely, the transformation of worldly commodities and wealth in general into religious capital that can be invested or deinvested at will. This position suggests the ambiguous status of religious objects broadly understood as part of a larger general economy of the sacred that still needs to be investigated in depth. 35 This attitude toward materiality has a long history in Japan; in fact, it dates back to the very introduction of Buddhism to the Japanese archipelago. According to the earliest accounts, the transmission of Buddhism to Japan consisted in the gift of a few objects: scriptures (no title is given), a Buddha image, and implements used to deal with the image ritually (in particular, for bathing the statue). What is most striking in these accounts is the sheer materiality of Buddhism, presented as a set of objects and rituals concerning a magic image-a sort of fetish that was believed capable of wreaking great harm to the country if not properly worshiped. 36 The anonymity of the scriptures further confirms this impression. What

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took place at the time was not a doctrinal debate but a discussion on the propriety of worshiping a foreign deity (the statue itself). These accounts of the arrival of Buddhism to Japan, confirmed and expanded by subsequent narratives, emphasize that the Dharma is embodied in/by objects and spreads through them. This should come as no surprise, since already in India the scriptures had the status of Dharmakaya, the "body of the Dharma"-that is, what is left behind in this world of the Buddha's teachings, a sort of spiritual/scriptural relic of the Buddha himself. It is perhaps in this conception that we can find the origin of so-called sutra art-an indication that scriptures were not just material supports for immaterial doctrines but valuable objects in themselves infused with sacred power. In other words, Buddhist scriptures themselves embody the Buddhist fundamental ambiguity toward material objects, as we will see in more detail in Chapter 3· It is not surprising, then, that Japanese priests who went to China to study Buddhism prepared long and detailed accounts of the things they brought back from their adventurous and perilous voyages: many scriptures, commentaries, and ritual procedures but also a large number of objects. These material things, listed in catalogs, were the embodiments of the Dharma intensely sought for and safely brought back by these monks. 37 The "quest for the Dharma" (guho) was partly a quest for tokens of the Dharma such as scriptures, images, relics, and ritual implements. Catalogs written by these Dharma seekers display several common features, primarily in their style and in their rhetoric of heroic mission, strong commitment, and difficult travels. The catalogs of items imported by Kiikai and JOgyo are particularly representative examples of this genre. They describe rough seas, pirates, and the uncertainty of arrival to their destination. Once in China, at times bureaucratic problems often prevented Japanese monks from accomplishing their mission as intended, as in the case of Jogyo who, however, was able to find something anyway-a ritual, the Taigen no ho, which became very popular at court and was performed until the end of World War 11. 38 To seek the Dharma and bring it to Japan required several kinds of labor: receiving imperial authorization or order to travel, crossing the ocean to the continent, traveling over land to some important monastery, meeting with some master and receiving instructions, copying (or commissioning someone to copy) scriptures, commissioning the production of Buddha images, purchasing ritual implements, and finally, carrying them back to Japan and

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using them to spread Buddhism and protect the state and its ruling lineages. Transmission itself was sanctioned by religious objects and certificates. The catalogs compiled by Saicho place their emphasis on scriptures (230 titles in 460 scrolls), but they also list other objects: primarily, portraits of Zhiyi, the Chinese Tiantai patriarch; biographies and copies of stele inscriptions concerning Zhiyi and the other Tiantai patriarchs; and an incense burner, priests' staffs, esoteric implements (vajra), and so on. 39 Kiikai is the author of the Shorai mokuroku, the most detailed and discursive catalog of all; he indicates what he studied, with whom, where, and why. He describes the Dharma he brought back as the "essence of all the Buddhas, a shortcut to becoming a buddha." 40 Among "buddha images" (butsuzi5 ), he lists mandalas and portraits of patriarchs. He also lists ritual implements (vajras etc.), relics, other images, a shell trumpet (horagai), a mendicant's bowl, kii?iiya clerical robes, offering bowls for ceremonies decorated with precious stones, and so forth. Some of these objects supposedly came from India, handed down by past patriarchs. Jogyo proudly lists in his catalog numerous images unknown in Japan, among which the most important was Daigensui My66 and the related ritual, Taigen no hi5; he also indicates several ritual implements and mandalas. 41 Engyo, who returned in 839, lists only a few scriptures and texts (many of which are ritual procedures) but numerous objects: relics (more than 3,ooo), ritual implements (staff, rosary, sutra box), images, and mandalas. 42 Ennin, in contrast, appears to have brought back very few objects, probably because of the misadventures he encountered during his long sojourn; the main items of his Dharma transmission are texts, mandalas, and portraits of patriarchs. 43 It was clear to Buddhist pilgrims that the Dharma was not purely immaterial but necessitated materiality to be transmitted. Kukai (774-835) made this point clear once and for all in a passage that has become famous about all the stuff he brought back to Japan from China: several thousand scrolls, hundreds of statues, images, ritual objects-one of the most massive "imports" of the Dharma ever: The Dharma is beyond speech, but without speech it cannot be revealed. Suchness transcends forms, but without depending on forms it cannot be realized ... The Buddha's teachings are indeed the treasures that help pacify the nation and bring benefits to the people. Since the esoteric Buddhist teachings are so profound and mysterious as to defy expression in writing, they are revealed through the medium of

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painting to those who are yet to be enlightened. The various postures and mudriis [depicted in mandalas] are products of the great compassion of the Buddha; with a single glance [at them] one becomes buddha. The secrets of the sutras and commentaries are in general depicted in the paintings, and all essentials of the esoteric Buddhist doctrines are set forth therein. Neither masters nor students can dispense with them. 44 It has been suggested that Kukai wrote this passage to justify to the emperor why he had squandered in some twenty months his entire endowment-money to study Buddhism in China that should have lasted for twenty years! This fact is one of the reasons this passage is significant. There is always a very thin line separating good from bad faith in matters of religious objects and materiality, and this is a point we should remember. But as Antonio Gramsci wrote, what may look like bad faith at the individual level, at the level of complex cultural or social organizations, is often an "expression of more profound contradictions of an historical and social order" caused by the problematic coexistence of two different conceptions of the world. 45 In particular, religious objects are situated at the intersection of several contrasting planes in the practical and symbolic organization of Japanese culture: profit-disinterestedness, materialspiritual, general morality-individual interests, and so forth. Apart from these considerations, Kiikai's passage raises several important issues related to the ambiguous status of sacred objects in Buddhism. First, the Dharma and Suchness, while originally transcendent, still require material entities to manifest themselves. Second, the teachings of the Buddha have an ambiguous nature. They are not just spiritual instructions expressed in linguistic form but magical entities capable of "pacify[ing] the nation and bring[ing] benefits to the people." Third, the esoteric teachings in particular have a special status as further transcending language; they "defy expression in writing" and "are revealed through the medium of painting." Finally, such visual representations are not just "symbols," conventional images of something ineffable, but are endowed instead with a magico-soteriologic power: "with a single glance [at them] one becomes a buddha." These four points are direct expressions of esoteric Buddhism's materialistic cosmology and its philosophy of objects and representations discussed in Chapter r. At this point, an investigation of Buddhist doctrines on representation and the ontology of icons is in order. Icons are in fact the most representative and doctrinally charged among Buddhist sacred objects and have been

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the subjects of countless philosophical speculations (in addition to ritual manipulation and, at times, iconoclastic activities) over the centuries. I will focus in particular on texts written in medieval and early modern times within the Shingon tradition, which developed a sophisticated but still little known theory of representation of the sacred within the context of its materialistic cosmology based on the mandala.

The Ontology of Buddha Images David Freedherg has shown that all modern theories that try to explain the status of images, from Frazer's laws of similarity and contagion to notions of symbolism, presuppose "a radical disjunction between the reality of the art object and reality itself"-between the symbol and the symbolized, between representation and reality, and we may add, between the statue and the Buddha. But as Freedberg puts it, "The reality of the image does not lie, as we might like to think, in the associations it calls forth; it lies in something more authentic, more real, and infinitely more graspable and verifiable than association." 46 Bernard Faure suggests that to understand the ontological status of buddha images, we must "free ourselves from the obsession with meaning (symbolism, iconology in the Panofskian sense) and form (style) in order to retrieve the affect, effectivity, and function of the icon." 47 We should not, however, overemphasize the role of affects and efficacy as independent from and somehow superior to signification in a broad sense. Premodern Buddhist texts frequently discuss symbolism, iconography, and style, but they take up these issues as something bearing on the worship of icons that were considered real presences of deities, not mere doctrinal symbols, ritual supports, copies, or representations of them. It is this ontological dimension that we should be able to retrieve, discuss, and understand. A Buddhist image may be used indexically to express meanings such "this is the Buddha," "a buddha," or "Buddha Amida," but this is not its primary function. Its ontological status is rather like that of Buddhist relics as described by Robert Sharf; they are "treated as presence pure and simple." A buddha image does "not represent, symbolize, or denote a transcendent presence, numinous absence, or anything in between." 48 A buddha image is an icon, "a specific sort of religious image that is believed to partake or participate in the substance of that which it represents. In other

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words, an icon does not merely bear the likeness of the divine, but shares in its very nature." 49 This explains why most Buddhists in Asia do not make a clear distinction, in practical terms, between the icon and the deity it embodies/represents. We should be careful not to overemphasize this point, however. Doctrinally, there is an important distinction between the Buddha and its image; whereas the former is unconditioned, the latter is conditioned by its place, shape, and materiality. Analogous to the Indian gods studied by Richard Davis, Japanese Buddhist icons also have "two primary modes of being ... : undifferentiated and differentiated, formless and corporeal, unmanifest and manifest, without attributes and with attributes, supreme and accessible, and so on." 5 Kiikai, among others, made a similar point in his Shoji jissogi when, after distinguishing between the conditioned aspect of the Dharmakaya (its material and figurative representations) and its unconditioned aspect, he emphasized that the two are not essentially distinct. 51 A striking feature of Buddhist images, therefore, is the fact that they are ideally located at the boundary between these two ontological modalities. 52 The ontological status of religious images has been the subject of numerous philosophical and theological discussions. Doctrinal debates within the Shingon tradition, one of the schools of Japanese Buddhism more attentive to philosophical problems of representation and image worship, have concerned precisely the question of the absolute and unconditioned nature of paintings and sculptures-philosophical issues known, in Shingon doctrine, as emoku honen and saie gyi5zi5. 53 Most Shingon authors develop their arguments on the basis of two main points: the absolute and unconditioned nature of buddha images and, as a consequence, their being part of the universal mandala. As such, they are to be found in the Dharmadhatu Palace (Hokkaigii), the unconditioned space coextensive with the Dharma Realm (Dharmadhatu) in which Mahavairocana enjoys enlightenment. Because of their unconditioned nature, images acquire an ontological and soteriological primacy. It was argued, for example, that to contemporaneous human beings the "real" Buddha is not Sakyamuni but an image of Sakyamuni-thus giving a radical meaning to Udayana's parable on the production of the first image of the Buddha. To the beings living after Sakyamuni's extinction, the historical Buddha is a conceptual abstraction produced by the direct experience of a statue. An excursus through esoteric Buddhism's theories of representation is therefore in order as an important

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intellectual context in which to locate the position of Buddhist icons and sacred objects in general. The most systematic treatment of the issue is by In'yu (r435-I519). He begins his discussion by presenting the common-sensical position that images are artifacts imitating the true Buddha-body (shinjitsu buttai), made for sentient beings who, living in the corrupt world of the end of the Dharma, are unable to see it. As conditioned and visible objects (zuien kengon buttai) produced as skillful means to give religious guidance to practitioners (gyoja innyu ha ben), images should have no place in the Dharmadhatu Palace, which is Mahavairocana's absolute and unconditioned body-territory (jisho honen shindo). 54 In'yii replies to this common-sensical position that "the meaning of painted and sculpted buddha images is to be found in the depths of the secrets of the doctrine according to which the very phenomena are the absolute (sokuji nishin)." 55 In fact, he explains, there are no ontological distinctions between the six great elements (rokudai, the five material elements and consciousness, i.e., the stuff out of which the cosmos is made) and the four mandalas envisioned by the Shingon school (see Chapter r). These two classes of entities continuously transform into each other. In'yii's position on this point is similar to that of Shoken (r307-I392), who had pointed out that images are not the only entities produced by conditioned causation; everything in the universe is the result of causation. The ten worlds (jikkai) as such are the perfect Dharmadhatu mandala (hokkai mandara): "There is no Dharmadhatu mandala apart from the deceptive views of the deluded beings of the nine lower worlds. The Dharmadhatu mandala is the dharmas produced by discrimination." 56 It is possible to make a distinction, however, in terms of delusion and enlightenment. As In'yii explains, the deluded ones see buddha images as external to their minds; the enlightened ones see images as unconditioned (honen) and as existing inside their minds. 57 Shoken summarizes the issue in the following way. He argues that in the Dharmadhatu mandala there are both absolute (honi) and conditioned (zuien) dharmas. The conditioned dharmas are subject to the four phases of life (shiso: birth, abiding, alteration, and death); however, these four phases are in themselves immutable (joju). Thus, there is no absolute entity outside transient beings. The Dharmadhatu Palace contains all beings and entities; since the true Buddha-body and its images are different entities, they should all be

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present in the palace. It is similar to the case of writing. The written signs used in the secular world are not essentially different from the absolute characters (hossho monji) expressing Mahavairocana's enlightenment. 58 Thus, Shoken suggests, sacred images circulating in this world, made out of conditioned materials by sculptors, are not ontologically different from the true and unconditioned Buddha-body in the same way as profane writing characters are not essentially different from the unconditioned graphs of the absolute language of mantras. Images and characters are both manifestations of the same absolute entity, the true Buddha-body and the true writing system, respectively. Also significant is the fact that, for Shoken, the Dharmadhatu Palace is the collection of all entities in the Buddhist universe. Therefore, it is not a separate space containing only certain objects but is coextensive with the entire universe. His perspective is grounded in the attempt of Shingon ontology and epistemology to overcome distinctions through a systematic application of the logic of nondualism (funi) as the elimination of all oppositions between a type and its tokens or a model and its concrete actualizations. The idea that sacred images are stored in the Dharmadhatu Palace can be traced back at least to the early Kamakura period. In'yu quotes a passage by Dohan (I I 7 8-I 25 2) that makes this assertion. 59 Drawing from such premises, Raiho (I279-I33o?), living a generation or so after Dohan, provided philosophical arguments for the existence of images in the Dharmadhatu Palace. First, he wrote, the Dharmadhatu is the body/substance (tai) of all beings, sentient and nonsentient. Painted and sculpted images are thus established in the Dharmadhatu Palace, the realm of Mahavairocana's enlightenment. Second, the ritual implements of esoteric Buddhism are the body/substance of the enlightenment of all buddhas; therefore, they must be present in the palace. Third, karmically produced dharmas (innensho ha) are in fact unconditioned (honi) as the result of the unconditioned principle (honi dori). As such, each single image made by an artist is the very substance of

the Dharmadhatu; therefore, those images must be in the palace. 60 The problem of the interrelation between the real Buddha and his images, especially in the case of the mandala, is also addressed by the fifth variant (ihon) of the Sokushin johutsugi, a medieval apocryphon attributed to Kiikai. 61 This interrelation is described through the metaphor of the pearls in Indra's net, in which each jewel reflects all others in an apotheosis of pure light. To the objection that in this metaphor only the light is

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reflected, while the substance of each individual pearl does not merge with all the others, the anonymous author replies that in the case of the Buddha, image (ei) and substance (shichi) mutually interpenetrate so that each buddha image is not essentially different and separated from all other images and from the real Buddha. We have here a case of the semiotics of ostension involving doubles, examples, and samples used to give buddha images an unconditioned status. 62 On the basis of this conceptual background, In'yii further elaborates on the status of images by proposing an astonishing vision of the Dharmadhatu Palace as a collection of buddha images, which are nevertheless external projections of Mahavairocana's enlightenment. 63 The walls and pillars of the palace, he states, are all decorated (shogon) with painted and sculpted images of buddhas, bodhisattvas, deities, and celestial beings made according to the indications of the scriptures. These images are not made by deities or human beings but are the result of Buddha's empowerment (kaji); they are therefore produced by Mahavairocana's enlightenment. 64 In'yii adds, "the sublime (fushigi) color of the Dharmadhatu does not exceed the five colors." The palace contains the originals of the four kinds of mandala, which must therefore appear as painted and sculpted images. 65 In'yii explains the relation between the true, original bodies of buddhas, bodhisattvas, and celestial beings and their painted and sculpted images through the metaphor of moonlight. The moon is like the true body of the Buddhas; the light it emits is like the unconditioned images stored in the Dharmadhatu Palace; the light that reaches the earth is like the conditioned images we worship in temples. 66 By explaining in this way one of the fundamental Shingon doctrines, according to which there is no essential difference between unconditioned reality and conditioned entities, In'yii is able to save both the externality of the images and their function in the economy of enlightenment. Temples are thus samples of the absolute and unconditioned Dharmadhatu Palace of Mahavairocana. The buddha images we all see are not mere artifacts, arbitrarily made by conditioned beings, but samples of Mahavairocana's empowerment, externalizations of his inner enlightenment, based on unmediated models described in the scriptures. The definition of sacred objects and images as "doubles" of the Buddha (an idea based on Udayana's story discussed later), and by extension, as samples of the absolute, offered various possibilities to develop Shingon's affirmation of the phenomena against their metaphysical principles. Yiikai

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(1345-I4r6) made it clear that the real Buddha and his images pervade the entire space of the Dharmadhatu (henman koku hokkai) and are essentially identical to (data) and inseparable from (fusari) each other. The all-pervasiveness of images is a consequence of the principle that phenomena are the absolute (sokuji nishin). As such, they are coextensive with the Dharmadhatu and therefore must be present in the Dharmadhatu Palace. Furthermore, buddha images used to offer religious guidance to the deluded are made on the basis of models existing in the Dharmadhatu Palace; because all dharmas arise out of innate and unconditioned matter (honnu), there must exist innate and unconditioned images-those stored in the palace. The unconditioned images in the palace are the result of Mahavairocana's enlightenment (naisha). After all, the five colors and the five shapes are none other than the five wisdoms and the five material elements-all arising from Mahavairocana's enlightenment. 6 7 Another highly original systematic treatment of the issue of representation was offered by Goho (r3o6-r362). Goho interprets the status of images on the basis of the four levels of meaning posited by esoteric Buddhism (shiju hishaku). 68 On a superficial level (senryakushaku), images play the role attributed to them in Kiikai's Sharai mokuroku as "fingers pointing at the moon," skillful means used to indicate the Buddhist Dharma, which essentially transcends language and representation. 69 Another passage in Kukai's text, Goho holds, alludes to the second level (jinpishaku) wherein images, as copies of the true Buddha and functions of the Dharma essence (hossha ), contribute directly to the process of becoming a buddha in this very body. On the third level (hichu jinpishaku), images appear as nondifferent from the true Buddha; as a result of Buddha's empowerment, images become identical to the real Buddha and acquire real soteriological powers; thus, they preach the Dharma and bring benefits to all beings. On the fourth and last level (hihichu jinpishaku), painted and sculpted images have the status of nirmat;zakiiya, conditioned manifestations of buddhas and bodhisattvas in our polluted world at the end of the Dharma, when the true Tathagata abides in his pure and undefiled world. Their respective relation is like the living Sakyamuni and his image now enshrined at Seiryoji. 70 In other words, images are the real Buddhas for us in our age. They are different from the Dharmakaya (the absolute modality of existence of the Buddha) but not ontologically. Images have direct salvific efficacy for us just as Sakyamuni had for the sentient beings of his age. In this way, Goho explains

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all the various interpretations about the status of images and representations circulating at his time and provides a forceful theological explanation for ideas about the animated nature of Buddhist images as real presences of the deities. Goho, however, takes his philosophical speculation a step further in a vertiginous development in four stages. As a consequence of the fourth esoteric level of understanding of images and the principle that phenomena are the absolute, he first states that images are in fact the substance of the Dharma (hottai); the real Buddhas are just appearances and functions of such absolute and image-like substance. "Therefore," he writes, "only images have actual existence; the Dharma-nature (hossho ), being an operational effect of the doctrines, does not actually exist." Second, when images as the only true Buddhas enter the stage of Dharma-nature-that is, when they become the object of doctrinal speculation-they acquire soteriological power for the unenlightened; the Tathagata then manifests himself as a provisional form of salvific activity (keyu). Third, images through empowerment (kaji) become equal with the true Buddha (shinbutsu)-namely, the honjishin (the Dharmakaya in his absolute modality). Finally, this absolute modality of the Dharmakaya appears as unconditioned (honi musa); if we investigate its substance, however, painted and sculptural images are the roots, and the real Buddha is the branches. In this way, transient and destructible images are identical with the unconditioned Dharmakaya, but it is the images that possess an ontological primacy. 71 Goho explicitly rejects the modern idea that the religious is found in a spiritual and intellectual dimension separate from the material aspects of the cult. On the contrary, for Goho, it is the material dimension that is the true, proper locus of religious devotion.

The Materiality of the Unconditioned Buddhists have always been aware of the paradoxes intrinsic to giving form to the formless. Even though buddhas and bodhisattvas are originally formless (mugyo), their virtues can be experienced through "visualization" (kan), a complex term connoting ritual action, devotion, imagining, dreaming, and so forth. 72 Employed as an aid to visualization, the icon appears to be a support or simulacrum of the Buddha. 73 Some texts, in contrast, say that worship of an icon (whether sculpted or painted) is identical

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to worship of the living Buddha. Priest Shito, for example, wrote in the Shinzoku butsuji hen (1726): "To worship a wooden or printed image of the Buddha is exactly the same as worshiping the Tathagata when he was living in this world." 74 A text of the Jodo tradition argues a similar point. To the question of whether Buddha images are real presences of the "living Buddha" or just images of it, the author replies that there is no contradiction between these two ideas; the practitioner should use the images to "imagine" with care and love (omoiyaru, koishiku omoi) the living Buddha. That is, one should deal with images "as if" they were real presences. The text also quotes favorably the Shingon teachings about images.75 Worship was not given to a mere inanimate object because the Buddha was held to reside in it in some form. A sort of polar dynamic, a dialectic between spirit and matter, sacred and profane, is thus at work in any interaction with a buddha image. Buddha images are related in this sense to the central features of fetishism as described by Marc Auge; endowed with the real presence of an actual being, which is irreducible to its appearance, they manifest the residue of the unthought/unthinkable. 76 Here, we see the ambiguity of something that is sacred, unconditioned, absolute but also at the same time "made," conditioned, profane-real buddhas and inanimate objects. These issues are well represented in the legends concerning the origin of the first buddha image, particularly as they were known in medieval Japan-legends from which many of the issues addressed in this chapter probably originated. The most complete source on the subject in premodern Japan is probably the Seiryoji engi, the illustrated tale of the origin of the icon of Sakyamuni enshrined at Seiryoji in Kyoto, which claims to be no less than the first buddha image ever made. According to it, the first image of the Buddha was made when Sakyamuni was the guest of King Udayana, who ruled over the kingdom of Vasta with its capital in Kau~ambi (present-day Kosam in Uttar Pradesh). One day, the Buddha decided to spend some time in Trayastrirp.~a heaven (Jp. Toriten) to preach the Dharma to his own mother, Queen Maya. King Udayana was saddened by not having been able to meet the Buddha for an extended period of time and ordered Vi~vakarman, the best artist in the realm, to make a statue portraying him. 77 When Sakyamuni descended from heaven, the statue miraculously rose to greet him. He then prophesied that r,ooo years after his extinction, all his followers would worship the statue. Later, the image went to China. The Japanese priest Chonen (938-ror6), during his pilgrimage in China, had a sandalwood copy made; with that copy he replaced the original, which he

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brought back to Japan. 78 This story is based on a legend that appears in a number of scriptures.: 9 According to the Seiryoji engi, Sakyamuni not only welcomed the production of his sculptural portrait; he listed spiritual and worldly benefits to be acquired by making and worshiping images and even arrived to predict the paramount importance of buddha images in spreading the Dharma in the future. 80 These texts emphasize that images are not mere "images" but real presences to the point of indicating them as future buddhas. The animated nature of Buddhist icons is testified by countless stories about images crying, talking, sweating, moving, and flying. 81 In acting as mediators between the invisible and the visible, between the cosmos and society, buddha images also are described as issuing messages through alterations in their own materiality such as changing color, emitting light, and sweating. 82 As if in an effort to overcome the hiatus separating inert materiality and life, but at the same time pointing to the materiality of which images are made, sources also emphasize the continuity between trees, wood, and buddha images. Stories are told of miraculous trees, perfuming of incense, floating adrift on the ocean and reaching the shores of Japan; their extraordinary nature prompted people to use them as materials for a Buddhist icon. 83 Buddhists were painfully aware of the bare and inescapable materiality of their icons, materiality to which icons could be reduced anytime by natural causes (fires, earthquakes) and intentional acts of destruction. Mere materiality was also emphasized by skeptical observers. Edo period calendar expert Nishimura Enri wrote, on the occasion of a public display in Edo of the Seiryoji Sakyamuni image, that people flocked to see the icon not because they worship the Buddha or because of the image's beauty but because they hoped to be saved from hell just by seeing it. However, he argued, even though the icon was made by Vi~vakarman, "a wooden buddha is just a wooden buddha" and cannot save people. 84 Awareness of the intrinsic distinction between the unconditioned nature of the Buddha and the conditioned nature of the artifacts in which the Buddha is made to reside is evident from the rituals of consecration of both the materials with which the icons are made and the icons themselves after completion. These rituals amount to veritable technologies of animation. 85 First, particular care is given to the selection of materials from which the buddha image will be made. Not any log will do; the chosen wood must come, ideally, from a tree endowed with some spiritual feature marking

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the residence of a supernatural entity (reiboku, "spiritual tree," shinboku, "sacred tree," but also butsumoku, "buddha tree"): 86 old age, particular shape, having been struck by lightning, and so forth. An empowerment rite (kaji kit a) is performed on the selected wood, and its impurities are eliminated to sacralize the raw materials and make them worthy of being turned into a buddha image. At that point, in a ritual known as nomi-ire shiki (rite for insertion of the chisel), the priest places a chisel on the center of the log and hits it with a sledgehammer (genno ). After the ritual, the sculptor (busshi) begins to chisel the wood. 87 When the image is completed, the "opening of the eyes" ceremony (kaigen hoyo or kaigen kuyo) takes place to infuse the image with the "spirit" (tamashii) of a Buddha 88 ; only at this point is the image a living Buddha. Although it would be wrong to consider such rituals a timeless, unchanging set of practices, we can find records in earlier works of similar rites. The imperial prelate (hosshinno) Shukaku (rrso-I202), for example, described the rituals accompanying the production of a buddha image from a sacred tree. 89 In this respect, it is interesting to note that one of the very few scriptures to discuss the eye-opening ceremony present it as a form of parturition. This scripture states that buddha images are originally located inside "Maya's womb"; they "descend to this world" (xiangsheng) through the performance of this ceremony. 90 A reverse procedure is employed before beginning repairs or restoration work. A special ritual called hakkenshiki is performed to take out the spirit from the statue (mitamashii wo nuku) and turn it into an inanimate object so that the sculptors can work on it. 91 At the end of the restoration work, a new eye-opening ceremony is held to bring the spirit back into the icon. In the case of secret images (hibutsu), similar procedures are followed even to study them; for example, one has to cleanse one's body and wear a white paper mask. Such rituals indicate that even the experts charged with assessing the "artistic value" of a Buddhist icon also recognize, at least formally, their "cult value" as a sacred icon. The production of buddha images (Buddha-bodies?) out of raw materials through multiple ritual actions and empowerments relates to what is perhaps one of the most problematic issues in the study of religion (and the subject of this book)-namely, the transformation of the profane (raw materials) into the sacred (be it an icon, a ritual implement, or an everyday object charged with religious meaning)-or in other words, the status of the sacred. Buddhist exegetes, however, rarely put the process of production

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of an icon in these terms. According to them, the raw materials employed are always-already sacred. Doctrines on the Buddhahood of nonsentients, usually known in Japan as "plants become buddhas" (somoku jobutsu), are strategically deployed to emphasize the intrinsic Buddha-nature of icons, which therefore are buddhas not just because they are the inanimate containers of the "spirit" of a Buddha but because their own material is imbued with Buddha-essence. This is expressed by the rhetoric of "carving out the Buddha already present in the wood." 92 This perspective perhaps indicates an attempt to bridge the polar dynamics between spirit and matter that characterize the status not only of Buddhist icons but of Buddhist objects in general. The family altar (butsudan) is a good example. The butsudan, its funerary tablets (ihai), and kamidana (altar dedicated to the local kami protecting the household) are not just symbolic presences or catalysts for religious activities. As veritable sacred objects, they are infused with the "spirits" of the buddhas, the ancestors, and the kami, respectively. A new unconsecrated butsudan is brought to the family temple, where the priest performs a ceremony-a variant of the previously mentioned kaigen kuyo-to achieve this effect. This ceremony is variously known also as "inauguration of the butsudan" (butsudanbiraki), "infusion of the sacred spirit" (mitamaire), "infusion of the life force" (oshoneire), and "ceremony of infusion of the Buddha" (nyubutsushiki). The priest summons the spirit of the main Buddha of the family temple and infuses it into the butsudan in a ritual involving sutra chanting, bowing, and prayers. 93 When a butsudan needs repair work, or when it is to be disposed of, a reverse ceremony, called an "extraction ceremony" (hakkenshiki) or "removal of the sacred spirit" (mitamanuki), is performed. Now the priest extracts the spirit of the Buddha from the family altar and either dispatches it or brings it to a new butsudan. Disposal of a butsudan is carried out by temples in a special memorial ritual (butsudan kuyo) performed at the spring and autumn equinoxes (higan), during the celebrations for Sakyamuni's nirvana (nehan-e) on February 25, and on the "Day of the butsudan and Buddhist ritual implements" (butsudan butsugu no hi) on March 27. 94 The actual procedures for butsudan memorials vary according to the temple's denomination, but they present similarities with other memorial rites for inanimate objects typical of Japanese religion (see Chapter 6). Funerary tablets (ihai) placed on the butsudan are also considered the receptacles (yorishiro) or even an alternative body (bunshin) of individual

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ancestors. 95 In fact, the priest summons the spirit of the deceased to the tablet before placing it in the butsudan. The posthumous name (kaimyo) and the date of the person's death are indicated on the front, whereas the profane name and other information are on the back. This dual front-back structure is particularly significant when placed in relation to premodern doctrinal speculations concerning the relationships between human beings and buddhas on the one hand and sentient beings and inanimate objects on the other. 96 Ihai in fact display these two oppositions in a rather successful way. They represent the close relation between humans and buddhas; whereas during one's lifetime Buddhahood is latent-on the back of one's being, as it were-after death, Buddhahood becomes apparent, and human nature on the contrary recedes to the back. Furthermore, ihai are made of wood, an inanimate substance, but at the same time, they embody the ancestors, animate beings. Hence, funerary tablets express the nondualism of animate and inanimate, one of the central ideas in the Buddhist philosophy of objects.

Conclusion The theoretical efforts of Shingon exegetes to deny the conditioned nature of buddha images and turn them into the "real thing" can perhaps be illuminated by Gregory Bateson's notion of framing, which Robert Sharf has used to explain the ambiguous status of Buddhist icons as both buddhas and signs of the Buddha. In particular, Bateson wrote: In the dim region where art, magic, and religion meet and overlap, human beings have evolved the "metaphor that is meant," the flag which men will die to save, and the sacrament that is felt to be more than "an outward and visible sign, given unto us." Here we can recognize an attempt to deny the difference between map and territory, and to get back to the absolute innocence of communication by means of pure mood-signs. 97 These attempts to deny the "difference between map and territory" and to instate a form of (supposedly) direct and absolute communication-what Bernard Faure, in a different context, has defined as "rhetoric of immediacy" 98 -result in a fluctuation, a continuous shifting of registers, between inanimate objects and sentient beings (icons as real buddhas, scriptures as relics, butsudan infused with the spirits of the Buddha and the ancestors)

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and between ritual implements (the objects themselves) and the states of mind and emotional feelings of their users. This fluctuation seems to be a typical feature of Japanese treatments of religious objects. In subsequent chapters, I investigate Japanese Buddhist attitudes (ideas and practices) toward objects in more detail. As a first step, I will discuss the particular role that matter acquires in this context-not simply as "stuff" but as something infused with the sacred on the basis of the doctrinal framework I have outlined thus far. Since texts have played an important function in Japan as mediators of the sacred, they will be the subjects of the next chapter.

11 MATERIALITY AND PERFORMATIVITY OF SACRED TEXTS

We generally take for granted that a text is something to be read, that reading is an action that attributes or extracts meaning from the text, and that the identification of such meaning, whatever it may be, is the final goal of our interaction with a text. 1 These are the assumptions that usually inform our approach to Buddhist texts. However, texts have several lives. Passionate bibliophiles even today consider books more than paper vehicles for words. Historical and social contexts produce different approaches to texts. Buddhist texts are not necessarily and not only "read," and "reading" is not always and necessarily a personal, solitary, and introspective activity of disembodied decoding of the inherent meaning of a text, as we understand such a process today. For example, a striking aspect of Buddhist practice in contemporary Japan concerns the treatment of sacred texts. Scriptures are not widely read (in the usual, hermeneutical sense of the term), even though sutra recitation constitutes one of the key features of Buddhist funerals and other ceremonies; lay participants often chant the text along with the priests without the slightest idea of its actual content. 2 In fact, most people (especially among the youth) seem to believe that scriptures are mere spells or magical formulae (jumon), literally mumbo jumbo without any discur-

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sive meaning. And yet, ignorance of the content of the scriptures is not an obstacle for the performance of Buddhist liturgy; far from it, several scriptures actually sanction such ritual uses of the texts. In this chapter, I explore the "nonhermeneutic" dimension of Japanese Buddhist texts with a special emphasis on premodern uses. I envision the nonhermeneutic as a specific modality of written texts that requires different forms of interaction and use based on an enhanced awareness of the text's material nature. Nonhermeneutic attitudes toward books involve various forms of ritual interaction (e.g., chanting and copying) and the attribution of additional forms of value that transcend "meaning" (affective, aesthetic, economic, symbolic, etc.), rather than reading in search for meaning-that is, scanning the expression to identify its content, which can be defined as "hermeneutic reading." I first trace the intellectual background of the peculiar status of religious texts. I then propose a framework to study them beyond strictly defined hermeneutic or semiotic approaches, even though I envision this as an expanded form of semiotic activity that addresses different modes of significance. In particular, I attempt to deal systematically with texts as objects and material entities, in which their materiality is not a secondary effect of their being "reading matter" but rather their primary characteristic. The chapter is organized in the following way. First, I provide examples of the ways in which sacred texts were produced, used, and circulated in medieval Japan. Then, I discuss forms of worship of Buddhist scriptures, especially within the Japanese tradition, and the ontological ideas that defined their status. Next, I address the issue of the "practice" of texts in premodern Japan (the period in which such attitudes to texts developed); in particular, I suggest that texts often functioned as talismans and other objects imbued with sacred power such as relics and icons. I also attempt to indicate what this means for an understanding of sacred texts in general. A fundamental presupposition of this chapter is that, to understand contemporary ritual uses of Buddhist texts (e.g., sutra recitation at funerals, gongyo chanting, and Heart Sutra amulets), it is necessary to investigate the historical and cultural backgrounds within which such uses developed. Finally, I propose a semiotic model to study the significance of practices surrounding Buddhist textuality by developing suggestions based on a number of theoretical approaches.

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Performed Texts Buddhist texts have not just a "meaning"-understood as the "signified" of the text itself as the "signifier" -but also several "uses," most of which are defined in a ritual way. The goal of this chapter is to address the theoretical implications of the uses of Buddhist sacred texts. Three issues are particularly important in this endeavor: the performative nature of a text, its materiality, and its value. By performative nature, I mean the fact that texts had to be "performed" (worked, used, enacted, handled) in some ways other than as signifiers. In many cases, in fact, a text had value not necessarily and not only for its meaning, its "immaterial" part, but also and primarily for its material aspect. As particular material entities with spiritual power, texts were endowed with all the characteristics of sacred objects and were not essentially different from relics, icons, and talismans. In this sacred materiality is found the "value" of those texts: the economic price for which they and their related rituals could be bought and/or exchanged and also their symbolic and religious values. Especially in the world of medieval Japanese religion, access to texts depended largely on the supposed moral and epistemological status of "readers"-a status that was often ontologically grounded. Such policing of reading entailed a politics of meaning whose effects are in part still felt today. "Meaning" was not restricted to the "signified" of these texts but encompassed larger semiotic contexts. Several authors have emphasized the variety of receptions of Buddhist scriptures, based largely on a distinction between "informative" and "performative" used. 3 Miriam Levering, for example, identifies four fundamental modes of reception: the informative mode, in which the text serves to "shape one's understanding of the world"; the transactive mode, in which recitation or reading "enables one to act in the power of the ultimate"; the transformative mode, in which reading becomes "a gateway to a deeper encounter with an Other or to a transformation of self" (including "transformation and enhancement of personality"); and finally, the symbolic mode, in which the text is a "symbol of the ultimate." 4 This typology is a good starting point for our analysis because it acknowledges that a text is not just a source of information but also acts in several ways. However, Levering's definitions remain, in some cases, obscure. The transactive mode could be reformulated as liturgical and magical uses of texts, and the transformative

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mode seems related to meditative and ritual practices based on written texts. The symbolic mode remains rather vague and seems to be a sort of condensation of the previous three. Furthermore, Buddhist texts do not need to be read (or chanted) to be a part of devotional or ritual activity in general. All the foregoing categories often seem to overlap in actual practice. Levering's transformative mode presupposes a liturgical activity (transactive mode) and should perhaps result in the symbolic mode. But the form of mystical practice that implicitly underscores Levering's typology (meditation leading to self-transformation and contact with the absolute) is not by any means standard or even widespread among Buddhists. 5 The typology proposed by Robert Campany is more inclusive of wider and culturally specific practices of sacred texts. Campany distinguishes between two fundamental modes of appropriating Buddhist texts-namely, "devotional uses," in which scriptures are "vehicles and objects of reverent action," and "literary uses," in which a sutra is a "symbolic vehicle or object." 6 Among devotional uses, Campany identifies "recitation," "collection, preservation, and display," talismanic uses, and the fact that desecration of sacred texts involves divine punishment. As for literary uses, sutras can be "symbols for the revelatory transmission of Dharma," "symbols and embodiments of the Bodhisattva's responsive compassion," and "metonymic symbol[s] of Buddhist norms." 7 For the perspective of this chapter, Campany's suggestion that Buddhist sutras are "objects" and in particular "sacred commodities" is especially significant. 8 However, Campany does not go far enough in situating the sutras within the Buddhist system of objects and in identifying some of the doctrinal positions that allowed for the "transubstantiation" of texts into material artifacts. Moreover, Campany's notion of symbolic use is unclear: Does it correspond to the transactive mode or to the transformative mode in Levering's typology? Or is it a form of informative reading resulting in the establishment of one's worldview? In any case, these typologies do point toward a "nonhermeneutic" dimension of communicative artifacts. In this chapter, I return to the original distinction between informative and performative uses and envision it as related to a hermeneutic approach (reading for textual meaning) and a nonhermeneutic dimension, respectively. Furthermore, I explore the nonhermeneutic dimension of Buddhist scriptures by focusing on their status as "objects," in particular as "sacred commodities." 9

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The very shape of medieval Japanese texts is already a challenge to our received categories of textual exegesis. Texts were usually labeled boxes containing a number of scrolls. Often, a "text" was no more than a title and a more or less solid association with a presumed author. It was not unusual that boxes with the same title stored at different locations contained a different number of scrolls; at times, those scrolls were de facto different texts. Versions of the "same" text contained mistakes and had added or missing parts; homophone characters were mistakenly used one for another. This often made reading and interpretation very difficult if not impossible. 10 To make matters even more complicated, texts were not readily available, and it was not easy to collate versions to dispel interpretive doubts. Such material conditions of medieval texts (one aspect of their materiality) forces us to question our interpretive frameworks and habits: Should we treat them as "reading matter" or as particular objects? Our interpretive strategies will vary accordingly. Of course, texts were written, copied, edited, and commented upon in medieval Japan; thus, they also functioned as tools to convey meaning, much as today's texts. In particular, Buddhist scriptures were read and studied, and they became the topics of an enormous commentarial activity defined by lyanaga Nobumi as "scholastic asceticism." 11 In most cases, however, scriptures were copied (sometimes in one's own blood), 12 chanted, illustrated, and placed inside buddha images. All these uses, however "meaningful" in a broader sense, do transcend the words written on them and pertain to ritual uses and contexts; in fact, they transcend the limits of what we would consider today an appropriate "interpretation." In some cases, the reading of certain texts was restricted if not forbidden or simply did not take place at all. We have here the paradox of texts that were not supposed to be read-a textual version of the secret buddhas (hibutsu) in the realm of buddha images. These texts were stored in "secret boxes" (the equivalent of zushi feretories enshrining secret buddhas) and jealously guarded by their depositaries. It was not unusual that books of this kind were highly treasured by lineages transmitting them (again, in a situation similar to that of secret buddhas)Y Some of the most influential texts in the modern "canon" of Japanese religion did not receive much scholastic interest before the Edo period or even until after the Meiji era, as in the case of Dogen's Shobogenzo and Shinran's Tannisho. The Shobogenzo, now considered Dogen's masterwork containing the fundamental teachings of

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Soto Zen, briefly aroused scholarly interest in the late Kamakura period, when Senne (active 1243-1263) and Kyogo (active 1303-I3o8) wrote two commentaries to it. 14 It subsequently disappeared as a source for doctrinal developments for about four centuries, until the Soto priest Tenkei Denson (r648-1735) and the Rinzai priest Mujaku Dochu (r6s3-1744) wrote their respective critical commentaries in the mid-Edo periodY The Shobogenzo had existed and circulated in several and often quite different versions in a way that clearly questions simplistic ideas about authorship, textual closure, and interpretive processes. As William Bodiford writes, during the Tokugawa period, there was no definitive version of the text. All major Soto temples had a Shobo genzo; the name was widely known. Some temples, however, had only a single chapter. Expanded recensions varied between twelve, twentyeight, sixty, seventy-five, and eighty-three or eighty-four chapter versions. Comparisons between these different recensions were conducted only with great difficulty because access to the manuscripts was limited to senior monks who had a direct affinity with the particular temple possessing a text. When comparisons were made, they revealed major discrepancies between the different texts. Some chapters have variant editions. Copyist errors, deletions, and additions were found in most manuscripts. Moreover, at least one false chapter, "Shinzo," also had been in circulation since the fifteenth century. 16 This was the situation of many important texts composed during the Heian and Kamakura periods. It is not surprising, then, that "Because of this confused situation, the authenticity of the entire Shobo genzo was considered doubtful" to the point that in 1700 the Soto establishment "argued against the authority of the Shobo genzo" before the ShogunateY The case of the Tannisho is similar to that of the Shobogenzo. The Tannisho, a collection of Shinran's sayings edited by his disciple Yuien (fl. 1288) around 1288, is now considered the quintessence of Shinran's thought. However, the actual founder of Jodo Shinshu orthodoxy, Rennyo (I4I5-I499), prohibited ordinary readers access to it. He wrote in a colophon at the end of the book: "These sacred teachings are important and secret (daiji) teachings of our school. Those who did not plant good karmic seeds in the past and the untrustworthy cannot have access to this text." 18 Entire doctrines were built on nonexistent scriptural passages; thus, strictly speaking, in these cases, a text did not even exist. Particularly

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significant in this respect are two passages that occur frequently in medieval sources. The first, on the Buddha viewing his environment as enlightened, was allegedly taken from the Zhongyin jing. As we saw in Chapter r, it was one of the grounds for the doctrine of the Buddhahood of nonsentients. The second spurious citation is the so-called "Stanza of women's karmic hindrances" (Nyonin gosho ge), used to justify women's social and soteriological inferiority. 19 In both cases, "virtual," nonexistent texts were the keys to important doctrines. Other materials, such as ritual instructions (giki, shidai, etc.), initiatory documents (kirigami), and initiation certificates (injin), were some of the most precious texts in premodern Japan. They were the key to direct access to enlightenment and represented important tools for their authors' legitimization and, sometimes, fame. These texts seem to have functioned more as diplomas or even money-that is, written objects that have a certain performative value-than books as we know them today. A good example of a premodern text endowed with high performative value is the Reikiki, an important source of medieval religiosity that combined Buddhist and autochthonous ideas, images, and myths. Its twelfth fascicle, the "Heavenly Talisman" (Amefudasho ), in particular, played several different functions. It did have a theoretical content, but that was not the main factor in its diffusion and use. Instead, this chapter operated as a cosmological model, a representation of the sacred, a ritual template, a condensation of enlightenment, a magical tool, a ritual implement, and a token of initiation. The nature of the Reikiki as a "magical text" closely resembles that of Buddhist scriptures. 20 Even when read, medieval texts were read in a different way. Reading was usually not silent but voiced; most medieval texts are notes for lectures, transcriptions of actual lectures and oral transmissions, and models for master-disciple interaction. Thus, orality was an important component of medieval textuality. Reading was often not a public and free (also in economical terms) activity. Even for people who could read, religious texts were not easy to access. It was necessary to establish a connection with some religious or private institution endowed with a library and to create a network of people from whom to borrow (and lend) books. (In part, these steps are still necessary today.) At times, access to texts was subordinated to undergoing long and complicated initiatory training and procedures known as kuden (oral transmission). Such ritual procedures actually culminated

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not just in oral, secret teachings but also in the transmission of written texts and documents. Underlying the logic of kuden is the idea that access to a certain text is not necessarily a step to the acquisition of information and knowledge; often, on the contrary, it merely sanctioned that acquisition. Receiving a text was not an encouragement to read more but the certification that one had read enough. As a consequence, secretly transmitted texts became sorts of regalia indicating one's worthiness (spiritual development, enlightenment}. Certain texts at least functioned as tokens of the transformation of economic capital into symbolic capital, and vice versa. One had to invest time, money, and labor (at the same time physical, ritual, and semiotic) to acquire them. 21 Their acquisition, however, endowed the owner with symbolic capital as a disciple of a certain master, as an initiate to a certain tradition, and in some cases, even as an enlightened buddha. As such, texts could become the cornerstones of wealth-generating activities such as carrying out one's master lineage, teaching, or merely benefiting from the supernatural protection that sacred texts were believed to bestow upon their legitimate owners. In such a cultural context of reception, authorship was also a complex issue. In addition to a tendency to write "apocrypha," 22 authors were often in search of the "Buddha's intention" (butsui). The idea was that when a text was fully and correctly understood, the intention of the Buddha-that is, the content of Buddha's mind-would be transferred into the minds of the author and readers of that text, as indicated by the metaphor of "pouring [the content of one vase] into [another] vase" (shabyo ), a metaphor that was commonly used to describe the esoteric education process based on ritual uses of texts. In their quest for the Buddha's intention, authors often claimed that their works had been divinely inspired or sanctioned. Their writing activity also presupposed a firm grasp of their teachers' knowledge as well as numerous interactions with other teachers and students. Premodern Buddhist texts were truly collaborative efforts, in which an individual (the "author") is simply a point of contact in which teachers meet with students, humans meet with divinities, and the present meets with an (idealized) immemorial past going back to the first Buddha. For example, the Shingon scholar-monk Raiyu (1226-1304) envisioned his commentarial activity as related to divine benevolence and as a source of soteriological merit. He wrote several of his texts after revelatory dreams in which bodhisattvas and other holy figures appeared to him. For example,

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in one of these dreams, a high priest accompanied by two acolytes appeared in Raiyu's room and asked to see his writings. The priest ordered Raiyu to write a new commentary for Mafijusrl; Raiyu complied by producing the Hiken kaizosho. 23 Some texts directly discuss the promise of future salvation. For example, Raiyu wrote that the merit he accumulated for composing a certain commentary would cause his rebirth in the Pure Land (kubon ojo ). 24 One day, Raiyu dreamt that Mafijusrl appeared to him and praised one of his works, saying that it was the best preparation for rebirth in the Pure Land he could perform. Mafijusrl also congratulated Raiyu's scholarship, saying that his commentaries (shonomono) well represented the intention of the Buddha (butsui)Y This elusive and endless quest for the "intention of the Buddha" through extensive analysis of scriptures and commentaries by past masters seems to have been a primary aim of scholar-monks' activity. 26 By discerning this intention, it was theoretically possible to continue transmitting the "lantern of the Dharma." Identifying the "intention of the Buddha"-that is, the real meaning of what the Buddha had said, the key to the path of salvation he had opened-was by no means an easy task. As is well known, the Buddhist Canon is composed of a large number of scriptures, many of which are in open contradiction with each other. To render matters even more complicated, the two major scriptures of esoteric Buddhism (the Dari jing and the ]ingang ding jing) as they were known to the medieval Japanese scholar-monks-that is, in Chinese translation-were believed to be nothing more than a summary of a larger written text unavailable in this world, which was in turn a short version of a cosmic text constituted by the entire universe. The real intention of the Buddha could be understood only through full access to that cosmic text, which by definition was only possible to buddhas and bodhisattvas. Medieval Japanese commentators were therefore forced to work by approximation through studying scriptures, classical commentaries, and the work of past masters. As soteriological tools, texts were more than reading matter. They acquired a magical and mystical dimension as sorts of "relics" of past masters (and ultimately, of the Buddha). It is in this way that we can understand the status and value of secret texts (hisho) stored in temple treasure houses or kept by masters to be handed down only to their closest disciples as tokens of legitimacy. 27 It is not by chance, then, that even a dedicated and erudite

Materiality of Sacred Texts 97 scholar such as Raiyu felt particular attachment to certain texts and that some of his manuscripts were treated as precious and secret textual relics by the Shingi Shingon tradition. Some were contained in a "black leather box" that was handed down by Yugi (1536-r612). 28 In other schools, we find statements suggesting that the teachings of the founders are condensations of the scriptures, thus suggesting the equivalence between Sakyamuni's enlightenment and that of the patriarchs. There is a saying in the Jodo school concerning a fan: "when open it is the three sutras concerning the Pure Land, when closed it is the Honen's Senchaku hongan nenbutsushit; its frame is the Ichimai kishomon." 29 This saying describes a process of condensation and expansion of sacred texts based on the ontology of the scriptures but also a substantial identity among different types of sacred texts. Scholar-monks affiliated with kenmitsu religious institutions were living in a textualized world. Every occurrence was a potential message from the buddhas and the kami. It was thus necessary to be able to read the multifarious "texts" of the world. The world was textualized along two fundamental models: the sutra and the mandala. They tended to overlap in esoteric Buddhism, according to which sutras are instances of mandala (as part of the ho mandara, one of the four standard mandalas of Shingon Buddhism discussed in Chapter 1). Textual production was generally not a systematic theoretical elaboration but a continuous accumulation of thought fragments over the years in different texts and for different audiences in different situations. There was no attempt to formulate a complete and closed intellectual system. Instead, scholar-monks engaged themselves in never-ending doctrinal interrogations and ritual performances, which amounted to an endless proliferation of scriptural and mandalic signifiers and signifieds. Texts were treated as clues, traces to the intention of the Buddha, but also as "relics" of previous masters, signposts on the itinerary to the Buddha's mind and by extension to one's own salvation. Commentaries (other texts) resulting from this investigation into the intention of the Buddha were considered in turn soteriological instruments to spread the Dharma. They were thus used as lecturing material to disciples and even to the kami. 30 We find here a close relation between scholarship and salvation. Texts were used and produced in a ritual dimension. In some cases, they acquired a magic, talismanic status as "relics" of their authors and

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embodiments of enlightenment. After all, already in India scriptures were considered the Dharmakaya of the Buddha-that is, quite literally, what is left of Sakyamuni in this world after his disappearance into nirvana. Given all these facts, it is easy to see the limits of contemporary hermeneutic approaches to premodern texts. Such approaches presuppose that premodern authors were essentially people like us, with a well-defined subjectivity, reading well-defined texts and looking for meaning in them much in the same way as we do. However, several problems arise: What are we to do with the notion of authorial intention? How can we ascertain the accuracy of our interpretation? How can we study texts like the Shobogenzo and the Reikiki, existing in so many different formats? Are we dealing here with texts or with textual nebulas, intertextual formations? And more radically, how should we read a text that was originally not meant to be read and that accordingly did not have any impact on the developments of intellectual history at its time?

Forms of Scripture Worship A genealogy of performative uses of sacred texts in Japan based on their particular materiality should begin with an assessment of the forms of scripture worship in the Buddhist tradition. In Japan, sutra worship takes the shape of two rituals still very popular today: sutra chanting and sutra copying. Both are envisioned as sources of merit and, in some cases, of magical power. However, why is it so? What is it in a sutra that produces such power? Buddhist scriptures traditionally have a value that goes far beyond their conceptual meaning. They function as cosmological models, representations of the sacred, ritual templates, condensations of enlightenment, magical tools, ritual implements, status symbols, and aesthetic artifacts. In general, Buddhist scriptures present two aspects, namely, they are both liturgical tools and embodiments of the Buddha. As tools, they are used in various forms of religious activities such as teaching, asceticism, chanting (gongyo ), ceremonies (hoe or hoyo ), and so forth. 31 However, sutras are also objects of worship as embodiments, doubles of the Buddha, much as buddha images and stupas. As Campany writes, "Little importance is attached to the texts as vessels of doctrinal meaning; much importance is attached to the veneration in which these texts are held, and, in turn, to the role this veneration itself plays in the larger fabric of life." 32

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Gregory Schopen has suggested in a seminal study that the beginnings of Mahayana were associated with forms of the cult of the book and not, as Hirakawa Akira suggested, with the stupa cult. 33 In this sense, the cult of the book was a Mahayana innovation: "It had neither undisputed or unambiguous normative sanction, nor any geographic connection." 34 Some sutras argue against the cult of the book and against the worship of material objects in general associated with the Buddha. 35 In fact, one intellectual thread in Buddhism maintains that the essence of the Buddha and Dharma is immaterial and asemiotic, transcends language and images, and is thus beyond representation. It is significant that this attitude displays both aniconic and apophatic features as a negation of the power of words and images. We could say that Buddhist icons on the one hand and the cult of sacred texts on the other are attempts to counter in practice the asemiotic tendencies in Buddhism by emphasizing the role of materiality to attain salvation. This is more than a superficial similarity. Production and handling of and access to scriptures were strictly regulated and ritualized in what is commonly known as kyokuyo (ceremonies of scripture worship), through which, for example, a newly copied scripture was turned into a sacred entity infused with the "spirit" of the Buddha and therefore able to operate in this world. 36 In Schopen's account, the Mahayana cult of the book "went through at least two distinct phases distinguished from one another by whether the role of the book was defined primarily in terms of an oral tradition ... , or a written tradition." 37 The former is more evident in the Diamond Sutra and in parts of the Lotus Sutra, and the latter is present especially in the Large Wisdom Sutra and in the Lotus Sutra. Schopen stresses that the cult of the book was modeled upon the stupa cult; it showed similar devotional attitudes and promised the attainment of the same worldly and supramundane goals. 38 In The Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines, we read: Suppose that there are two persons. One of the two, a son or daughter of good family, has written down this perfection of wisdom, made a copy of it; he would then put it up, and would honour, revere, worship, and adore it with heavenly flowers, incense, perfumes, wreaths, unguents, aromatic powders, strips of cloths, parasols, banners, flags, with rows of lamps all round, and with manifold kinds of worship. The other would deposit in Stupas the relics of the Tathagata who has gone to Parinirvana; he would

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then take hold of them and preserve them; he would honor, worship and adore them with heavenly flowers, incense, etc., as before. Which one of the two, 0 Lord, would beget the greater merit? ... Greater would be the merit of the devotee of the perfection of wisdom [sutra] compared not only with that of a person who would build many kotis of Stupas made of the seven precious things, enshrining the relics of the Tathagata. It would be greater than the merit of one who would completely fill the entire Jambudvipa with such Stupas. 39 This passage makes clear that worship of scriptures was encouraged as a highly meritorious deed. However, while the Wisdom Sutras claim the superiority of the book cult with respect to the stupa cult, the Lotus Sutra, for example, stressed the equivalence between the two cults. 40 In other words, the Mahayana cult of the book was structured on a previous stupa cult based on the worship of the relics of the Buddha. The cult of the book arose from a combination of earlier Buddhist notions such as the equivalence of the Buddha and his Dharma and the sanctity of the place in which Buddha is (or was) present. Thus, wherever the Dharma is performed, there the Buddha (a buddha?) is present, and that spot is equivalent to the bodhimm:uJa. 41 Accordingly, a sutra is even more powerful than a relic of the Buddha because a relic is just a bodily residue, whereas a sutra is the vehicle of Buddha's mind and therefore the gateway to enlightenment. 42 The Mahayana cult of the books developed into a fully fledged devotional form. 43 There appeared also sutra protectors, deities who were structurally and functionally identical to Dharma protectors associated with specific buddhas and bodhisattvas. They are demons (yak~a and rak~asa) who converted to Buddhism and now protect these specific scriptures and their "holders"; particularly well known among these are the ten rak~an"i who protect the practitioners of the Lotus Sutra and the sixteen good deities protecting the Wisdom Sutra. 44 It is the Lotus Sutra that presents a "fully articulated cult of the book," 45 in which worship takes four different modes: possession (juji), reading (dokuju), copying (shakyo), and explaining (gesetsu). 46 Possession (juji) is often translated as "embracing," as indicating a belief in the teachings of the sutra. However, from the context in which it appears, this term, literally meaning "receiving and holding," should be translated more accurately as "having," "keeping," "owning," or "holding," perhaps with the nuance of

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"holding dear" but also "remembering." This is the primary mode of scripture worship. 47 To worship a scripture, indeed, one has first to "have" it in some form: as an object, as a memorized series of sounds or graphs, or as a set of teachings. 48 Reading (dokuju, Sk. svadhyiiya, adhyayana) refers to two different forms of "reading" a scripture: a direct reading from the text, either voiced or silent (doku), and chanting (ju)-that is, a memorized form of reading. This distinction in the actualization of the semiotic expression of a scripture (i.e., between reading or listening aimed at understanding and chanting as a voicing of the written signifier of the text) is quite old, since it is already mentioned in the Dhammapada. 49 Voiced reading was the most common way of actualizing written texts in premodern Japan; silent reading developed perhaps in a monastic context and became prevalent within society at large only in the modern period. These practices were originally means to spread the teachings, but with the development of Mahayana, they became full-fledged religious and devotional activities that were believed capable of producing merit. For example, in China, a text attributed to the Tiantai Patriarch Zhiyi defined sutra reading as one of the five forms of meditation (kangyo gohon) 50 ; the Pure Land Patriarch Shandao stated that chanting the Pure Land sutras is a correct method for rebirth into Amida's Pure Land. 51 Sutra copying (shakyo) is one of the most distinctive Buddhist devotional practices. In ancient India, ritual copy of the Purii1Ja was believed to produce merit; early Mahayana communities also took the same attitude. In East Asia, the sayings of the past masters were written down in authoritative texts (jing) that had high symbolic power. Sutra copying varies according to the country and the historical period and ranges from texts copied on tiira tree leaves in India to sophisticated and highly decorated combinations of paper and silk in medieval Japan. In Japan, we find essentially two forms: hand-written copying and printing. Hand-written copying (shakyo proper) consists literally in copying the text on several materials (usually paper) with a brush. Printing (surikyo) was carried out by the incision of the characters on wood boards, which were then painted with ink and finally brayed. 52 Explaining (gesetsu) is the general term for any kind of commentarial activity on a scripture. It ranges from the activity of itinerant preachers, scholastic teaching, and exegetical activity to state-sponsored lectures on

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specific scriptures, attended by the emperor and the highest secular authorities, which were part of the official activities for the religious protection of the political system (chingo kokka). 53 To summarize, sutra worship consists of various ways of proliferating the material and semiotic aspects of a scripture. Possession is its most general form as it presupposes the availability of actual copies of the sutra. Reading refers to the proliferation of the phonic signifier, whereas copying is the proliferation of the written signifier. (Here, it is methodologically important to distinguish between a sutra as an object and its two signifiers.) Explaining proliferates the signified of the sutra (its doctrinal content}. From this classification, we see that understanding the doctrines of a scripture-that is, the hermeneutic activity-was just one, and perhaps not even the most important, form of sutra worship and source of religious merit. Since sutra worship is a ritual activity, a sutra was not just "owned" but kept in a specially designated place from which it was taken out only on particular occasions, during which it was handled in prescribed ways. 54 It was not read or chanted at random but at specific times and with the proper state of mind following appropriate bodily preparations. Copying was a highly ritualized act as well, as was interpretive activity. 55 What were the results of sutra worship as normatively defined? Let us examine a few narratives on the subject from the Nihon ryoiki, a collection of Buddhist tales compiled by Kyokai (or Keikai) around Sro-823. r. An ascetic could remember by heart the entire Lotus Sutra except one single character because in his previous life the portion of the scroll on which that character was written had been accidentally burned by the lamp by whose light he was studying the sutra. 56 This story emphasizes the very materiality of the scripture: To damage the medium on which the sutra is written is to damage the scripture itself and, as such, has karmic consequences. 2. A self-ordained priest makes fun of a mendicant chanting the Lotus Sutra. As retribution, his mouth is crippled. 57 The scripture makes holy the person chanting it, no matter how unworthy he or she is. A sutra is thus not just a text but a sacred entity in linguistic or textual form. 3· A very unworthy self-ordained priest chants the Wisdom Sutra and has a consequential revelatory dream. 58 Again, the scripture has power in itself, a power that transcends its meaning and is not related to hermeneutic understanding.

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4· An ascetic immolates himself while chanting the Lotus Sutra; after

many years, his tongue is still attached to his skull and keeps chanting the scripture. 59 This grotesque image seems to indicate that the sutra has its own agency and borrows the human body as a medium. 5· Another story extols the merit acquired by sutra chanting. A woman is restored to life after death and in addition she is able to buy back sutra scrolls that had been stolen from her. 60 In the tale, the stolen scrolls take human form and guide the protagonist to retrieve them. This story also tells us that sutras were stolen and sold for money (soo man per scroll), a fact that has several important implications. The actual cost of copying a scroll was rather high; perhaps as a consequence, sutras were valuable and expensive commodities and there was a market for them. However, not everyone believed in their power (at least not the thieves). 6. A novice carries fish hidden in a sutra box for the abbot who was going to violate the precepts by eating fish. The content of the box begins to smell, and passers-by along the way back to the temple notice it. Asked by one of them about the suspicious content of the box, the novice opens it and it turns out to really contain sutra scrolls. 61 In this case, the sutra acts as a protector of the Dharma, represented here by one of its emissaries (the precepts-breaking abbot), against possible criticism by laypeople. 7· A copy of the Lotus Sutra that had been made according to the proper ritual prescriptions did not get burned during a fire that destroyed the building in which it was kept. 62 The meaning of this story is not easy to decipher; after all, the sutra did not protect the building from fire. However, the sutra itself remained intact, thus emphasizing its own supramundane essence. What is common to all these narratives is the fact that the sutras enter the stories as material artifacts endowed with magical power and not as carriers of hermeneutic meaning. Scriptures have power, both positive (they bring benefits to their devotees) and negative (they punish their offenders); they have agency of their own and can manifest themselves also in human forms. When they "speak," they do not preach the Buddhist doctrines but reveal concrete details about events in this world. Scriptures were also part of a sacred economy involving wealth (their expensive cost) and social prestige (the protagonists of these stories are members of the local gentry and low-ranking aristocrats). Scripture worship produces three different fields

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of benefits: magical protection, merit making, and religious salvation. In other words, sutra worship operates on all three dimensions of Buddhism as defined by Melford Spiro, namely, apotropaic, kammatic, and nibbanic. 63 Thus, sutras have direct protecting powers, produce merit (used to improve life in this world), and are effective in the quest for salvation. This is an important aspect that has not been emphasized enough by past scholarship. Scholars tend to present scripture worship and ritual uses of sutras in general as a merit-making activity. However, as we have seen so far, other aspects-not directly reducible to merit-were important as well. Especially in contemporary Japan, merit does not seem to be a major concern among the participants in Buddhist rituals involving scripture manipulation. The use of sutras is often considered simply as an activity defined as arigatai, a term meaning something valuable, blessed, edifying, uplifting-something to be appreciated and thankful for, but without any specific vector. (Welcome to whom? Who is to be thankful for it?) The idea of merit going both to the memorialized person and the sponsors of the ritual is largely absent in Japan today. Still, scriptures are present as material objects (as amulets or paraphernalia in the family's Buddhist altar), and they are "actualized" in rituals through chanting (sound is another "material" shape of the scriptures). Hence, sutras today (and perhaps, to a certain extent, also in the past) are not used primarily to produce merit; they tend to function as just another liturgical implement, as part of the ritual setting. As such, they contribute to create a Buddhist "atmosphere," much like design artifacts and commodities, as we saw in Chapter 2. Interaction with sutras and other sacred texts was not always beneficial. A wrong use was believed to cause harm. One of the most dangerous kinds of misuse was improper transmission and use, and many texts warn about it. For example, a secret initiatory document by Kakuban states: if sentient beings shall listen to an explanation of these lShingon] teachings but shall not arouse faith in them, you should know that they shall certainly fall into the Uninterrupted Hell, that their own Buddha-nature will be destroyed, and that no Buddha will be able to save them. How could mere human beings do something on their behalf? 64 Kakuban emphasizes that disbelief is the cause of the irreversible destruction of one's Buddhahood. Other medieval texts bore inscribed curses against illegitimate transmission and use. For example, the Tendai monk

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Songai (I253-r332) pledged to transmit his teachings only to one disciple and called for divine punishment upon himself should he fail to keep this promise. 65 Such statements have important precedents in the esoteric canon. For example, one text states: If a man listens to these teachings [concerning salvation] and raises doubts and suspicions, he will fall into the Avlci Hell and spend there an inconceivably long time of countless, asa1f1khya [numberless], infinite great kalpas as numerous as the grains of the sand of the Ganges river. As soon as such kalpic period in Avlci is over, that man will get out of it and immediately enter the Eighteen Hells and the Eighty-four thousand Hells. After residing in each of them and exhausting one after another the relative kalpic periods, that man will fall into the Hungry Ghosts, the Beasts, and eventually, after exhausting one by one the relative kalpic periods, he will be reborn among the human beings. However, he will not believe the Buddhist Dharma, and therefore will live in great poverty and extreme despair. During his life he will fall ill with countless serious diseases, and day and night, without intermission, he will suffer because of them. He will never perform any single good deed and, at the end of his life, he will fall back into Avlci Hell. 66

Such intimations of danger concerning improper transmission and use had a scriptural basis. As we have seen, the cult of the book is one of the most important features of Mahayana and is directly related to the diffusion of its doctrines. However, sutras emphasizing the cult of books also contain the most vicious threats of punishment for the disbelievers in and slanderers of the scriptures. The Lotus Sutra, for example, warns against preaching its doctrines to persons who are not ready to accept it and describes the terrible fate of those who slander it or refuse to believe its teachings. 67 The esoteric tradition cautions practitioners against committing the so-called Three Grave Crimes (sanju juzai)-that is, the avoidance to perform esoteric practices and rituals after their transmission, slandering the esoteric teachings, and to be present at an oral transmission (kuden) or perform esoteric practices without permission or transmit improperly (to unworthy persons and without respecting the rules) the esoteric teachings. 68 Each grave crime threatens some aspects of the Buddhist system: the first, the continuity of teachings and lineages and the recursive soteriology, which requires incessant practice; the second, the social and political hegemony of the system; and the third, its epistemic and power

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relations, requiring hierarchy, and clear-cut rank distinctions. Ki.ikai wrote to Saicho: once the samaya [esoteric precepts] are violated, there exists no merit in either instructing or receiving the teaching ... If you receive it improperly and if I give it to you inappropriately, how would it be possible for the practitioner of the future to understand the authentic path to pursuing the Dharma? 69 This idea is further explained by Kiikai on the basis of the ]ingang ding jing textual lineage: Should the truths of the Shingon doctrines be explained to persons of little capacities, this would result in a contrary effect, namely, those people would arouse doubts and slander [the doctrines and the Buddhas], and therefore they will certainly become cursed ones (icchantika) and denizens of Uninterrupted Hell. For this reason, Sakyamuni kept the Shingon doctrines secret and did not preach them, and also the bodhisattvas transmitting the Dharma kept them apart and did not explain them ... Therefore, the Jingang ding jing states: "... Those who reveal [the secret teachings to the unworthy] will incur disasters and calamities in the present life and die young; after their death, they will fall into Uninterrupted Hell." 70 Another text states that esoteric teachings should not be taught to "people who are affected by evil karmic circumstances and will fall [into hell]" and that "a defiled person should not desire, selfishly and thoughtlessly, to practice Shingon." 71 Behind all these warnings, we can detect ideas about secret transmission and the texts on which it was based: legitimacy, status, and proper transactions and attitudes. The threat of divine punishment against the transgressors indicates the supernatural power of sacred texts-a power, again, that goes well beyond their intellectual content. One of the most peculiar and conceptually interesting forms of Buddhist scripture worship is certainly the use of the so-called prayer wheel; very popular in Tibet, it can also be found in Japan. Known in Japanese as rinzo (abbreviation of tenrinzo, lit., "revolving [sutra] repository"), it consists of a sort of bookcase with shelves on all sides placed on a rotating axis. The invention of this device is attributed to Fu Xi (497-569), an eccentric Chinese religious figure known as Fu Dashi (Bodhisattva Fu), who was worshiped as a manifestation of Maitreya, the Buddha of the future. 72 In Japan, what is known as the oldest rinzo is located at the Ankokuji in Gifu Prefecture and dates to qo8 (Oei 15); it is designated as a national treasure.

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It is commonly believed that by making this apparatus rotate, one would acquire an amount of merit equivalent to that produced by actually reading the scriptures. 73 In this case, we have indirect contact with the sutras (touching the shelves where they are placed) but none of the actions we usually attribute to "reading" (even if we understand this action in a very broad sense); the scriptures themselves are not even touched. And yet, this practice is supposed to produce merit. How can we explain its underlying logic? Perhaps, this practice developed out of a much too literal reading of the well-known metaphor of "turning the wheel of Dharma." If by "turning the wheel of Dharma" the Buddha can produce merit and save beings, so can ordinary people. "Dharma" is understood here as "scriptures," "wheel" is the revolving bookcase, and "turning" is the actual performance of the ritual. In other words, rinzo is a ritual device that bases its efficacy on sutras while at the same time making their "reading" completely unnecessary.

Sutras as Artifacts Sutra copying always involved, in addition to physical and intellectuallabor, rituallabor: holding, reading, chanting, interpreting, and copying-as defined in the Nyohogyo ha, the "Ritual [of copying the scriptures] in accordance with the teachings," first performed in Japan by Ennin. 74 Ritual lab or also included sutra burial (maikyo) and the floating of scriptures in rivers or at sea (kyonagashi).l 5 Moreover, copying was not only carried out on paper and other similar materials; sutras were reproduced on stones, shells, and tiles. 76 Sutra fans were a typical artifact of the Heian period77; even entire mountains were inscribed with scriptures? 8 In many cases, the copyists did not limit themselves to transcribing written characters on various material supports but added a number of decorative, aesthetic features to their works, turning some of them into veritable artistic masterpieces. In this case, "art" creation was clearly not the goal of the copyists; however, aesthetic considerations were probably part of their motivations. They used melted gold or silver instead of ink and colored, highquality paper instead of normal paper. They added buddha images or lotus daises to each character they copied, and in some cases, they wrote the entire text in the shape of a pagoda. In addition, a whole range of gadgets related to the use and storage of sutra scrolls (boxes, wrapping clothes, specialized furniture, etc.), often of very high quality, developed. Containers included artifacts of various form, such as cylindrical containers (kyozutsu) for sutra

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burial, sutra boxes (kyobako or kyokan), sutra boxes with legs (kyobitsu), embroidered cloth wrappings for sutras (kyochitsu), stupa-shaped containers (kyoto ), and feretories (zushi), all the way to full-fledged pieces of furniture. Other accessories included sticks used to roll up the scrolls, silk covers for the scrolls, silk strings to tighten the scrolls, and decorated tips of sticks?9 In the case of decorative copies and their related gadgets, there was additionallabor involved: semiotic labor (e.g., design) and the physical and intellectual labor necessary for the production of decorations. Since all these labors were highly specialized and often required precious materials, they also implied a conspicuous economic expenditure. The cost, prestige, and virtual uniqueness of these sutra copies made them into highly valuable artifacts, in which sacredness was represented and enhanced by the economic value invested in them and the social capital they produced. The value of scriptures was also enhanced by the fact that they were copied and used by the state. In the Nara and early Heian periods, there was a special state agency in charge of copying scriptures to be sent to various locales and temples and to be used for state liturgy. 80 Sutra copying in gold or silver ink seems to have developed in China around the mid-Tang dynasty. Ennin mentions in his diary a Tripitaka "in more than six thousand scrolls, all in gold and silver characters on dark blue paper with rollers of white sandalwood, jade, and ivory" made in 779· 81 In Japan, such elaborated sutra copying became quite fashionable among the aristocracy during the late Heian period. Mizuno Kogen summarizes a widespread understanding of such artifacts in the following way: "It is ... likely that the practice was ... not an expression of genuine religious devotion but ... a means of displaying the wealth and rank of the people who commissioned such copies." 82 Although statements such as this constitute a further indication that these precious copies of scriptures had a particular status as special commodities, on the other hand they also have obvious conceptual limitations. Why is the production of precious copies of the scriptures interpreted as a fake form of religiosity? What if the production of such extravagant sutra copies was indeed an expression of genuine religious devotion? After all, who would invest such an amount of money and labor in an object that can be understood as meaningless or, even worse, as a manifestation of false devotion? One could argue against Mizuno that these artifacts were produced precisely because sutras were important sacred entities that had to be awe inspiring and therefore made with the most precious materials one could afford.

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Most of these gadgets are not directly functional, or in any case, their functional value is overwhelmed by their decorative, "symbolic" value and even by the labor these gadgets involve (in both their production and their manipulation). These multifarious artifacts serve to emphasize the proximity of sutras on the one hand and buddha images and relics on the other. In other words, accessories make such proximity, based on doctrines, visible in concrete, material terms. Display, storage, added artistic value, and increased economic value constantly indicate to the observer and user that those were not just written texts or ritual tools but full-fledged sacred entities in their own right. As such, the proliferation of gadgets functions, on a connotative level, as concrete, experiential, performative signals, making the actual use of the scriptures less direct, less immediate, and less "easy." What is important to notice here is that all these values were de facto unrelated to the meaning of the texts involved, yet they served to enhance it. Similar treatment was given not only to sutras but also to important religious documents such as the Toboki and the corpus of official documents of the Toji temple (Toji monjo). 83 Let us see in more detail some of the most representative examples of sutra "art." I. Lotus Sutra in which each character is associated with a buddha image (Ichiji ichibutsu Hokekyo ), national treasure property of Zentsiiji (Kagawa Prefecture): The format is based on a passage from the Fahua zhuanji by Sengxiang (Tang period): "Each single character of the Lotus Sutra is a buddha." 84 The combination of buddha images with the characters of the scripture was exploited in visualization rituals, as we will see later in the case of the Dokyo yojin. An analogous idea is also expressed by writing each character on a lotus dais (Ichiji rendai Hokekyo) or near a stupa (Ichiji hoto Hokekyo ), typical of sutra copies produced in Japan since the Heian period. In these cases, sutra copying was envisioned as the same activity as painting buddha images or building stupas-a concrete, performative enactment of what several scriptures define as the most rewarding meritmaking activities. 2. Fascicle of the Lotus Sutra inscribed on painted fans (Senmen Hokekyo sasshi), national treasure property of Shitennoji (Osaka): Paintings of everyday life scenes are overwritten with the Lotus Sutra. This item appears to be a representation of the principle that "all dharmas are the true reality" (shoho jisso ); that is, there is no ontological distinction between the phenomena and the absolute. Such distinctions belong to the order of appearances (i.e., at the level of semiotic expression). The superimposing of

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two different visual entities (everyday life scenes and the written word of the Buddha), each representing an appositional element, is a representation of their intrinsic nondualism. 3. Sutras offered by the Taira clan (Heike nokyo ), national treasure property of Itsukushima Shrine (Hiroshima Prefecture): This artifact is particularly striking for its rich decorations that seem to relativize the importance of the written text. Here, too, the visual artifact aims at giving shape to the hongaku idea according to which essential aspects (the text of the scripture) and decorative features are fundamentally the same or, to put it in different words, that "forms" (decorations) are "emptiness" (the content of the wisdom attained by the Buddha in enlightenment). 4· Painted sutra box describing the virtues of the Buddha (Butsu kudoku makie kyobako), national treasure property of Fujita Museum: The box is painted with scenes from the Lotus Sutra emphasizing salvation. Here, meaning is not only in the sutra scrolls contained in the box but "outflows" onto its container-a powerful metaphor for the elimination of distinctions of signifier and signified and, quite literally, form and content. 5· Sutra container for sutra burial (kyozutsu) in bronze, national treasure property of Nara National Museum: It was interred to preserve the scripture until the advent of the next Buddha, Miroku. The external container bears inscriptions of the formula Namu Myoho renge kyo, the mantra of light (komyo shingon), and names of the Buddha (sons ha butsumyo ). The internal container has images of protecting deities (Fugen, Bishamonten, the ten rak~anz, etc.). Here, the logic of protection is particularly interesting because it mobilizes both deities and mantric formulas as agencies operating on the same plane. 6. Pagoda of the Lotus Sutra (Hokekyo hoto mandarazu), Tanzan Jinja (Nara): The characters of the Lotus Sutra (approximately 6o,ooo) are arranged to form stupas-in particular, the stupa described in the sutra where Sakyamuni meets Prabhutaratna. Other sutras were transposed in this form as well. 85 These images represent a sutra as a stupa-the kind of cult of the book originally proposed, as we have seen, by the Lotus Sutra. Moreover, the signifying units of the written text are used as nonsignifying elements of visual figuration, again as an attempt to overcome the semiotic and hermeneutic limitations of the written text itself. 86 7· Graphic representations of the invocation to Buddha Amida (Figure 3.1): The formula Namu Amida Butsu is inscribed in a hanging scroll

F r G u RE 3. I. Formula Namu Amida Butsu emerging on the background of the Amida Sutra SOURCE:

Photograph by Fabio Ra mbelli .

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in a peculiar fashion, since it is constituted by dark spaces inscribed within the copy in gold characters of the Amida Sutra. Although the sutra text is not readable from a distance, the invocation clearly is, thus indicating in a very graphic manner that the essence of that scripture is not its doctrinal content but the religious practice it sanctions. 87 All these artifacts, despite their variety, presuppose a similar semiotic strategy. They aim at giving a concrete representation to the elimination of dualism between sign and referent, expression and content, author and reader, process and result. As such, they attempt to get rid of semiosis altogether to attain a sort of "absolute sign" in which the totality of meaning and the fullness of being are always and immediately present. This kind of "sutra art" is directly related to the Indian worship of Buddhist scriptures. Gregory Schopen has shown that early Mahayana sutras often describe the physical book as a sacred object, a symbolic shifter that makes a "spot of earth become a shrine" of the Buddha. 88 In later centuries, it became common to enshrine words of the Buddha instead of relics inside stupas. 89 At this point, we understand the origin of the power of the scriptures and the benefits that can be obtained by worshiping them. Sutras are not mere texts to be interpreted in search for their "meaning" but have the status as "alternative bodies" (bunshin), manifestations, replicas of the Buddha. Ritual interaction with a sutra in the prescribed way is an interaction with the Buddha himself; sutras are thus envisioned as possessing all the proactive power of the Buddha. 90 It is now time to pay attention to the ontological status of the sutras.

The Ontology of Texts Sutras were not only subjected to decorative treatments; they also circulated in a number of shapes: scrolls (kyokan, Sk. pustaka), funeral clothes (kyo katabira), 91 sutra stones (kyo ishi), 92 architectural structures (e.g., Barabudur in Java), 93 and even entire mountains. However, what is the original shape of a sutra? And what is its ontological status? Some clues toward answering these questions can be found in the Dokyo yojin, a short text attributed to Genshin (942-ror7) but probably written later. It describes the ritual procedures and visualizations to be carried out before,

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during, and after reading a sutra. What follows is an annotated synopsis of this text. 94 First, one must cleanse one's hands and mouth before beginning the ritual. From this detail, we immediately understand that the sutra is treated as a sacred entity both in its physical form (held in the ascetic's hands) and in its graphic form (read aloud or chanted). It is not surprising, then, that chanting should be preceded by the utterance of the four great bodhisattva vows-namely, to save countless sentient beings, to eliminate numberless afflictions, to learn countless teachings, and to attain the supreme enlightenment. As the manipulation of a sacred entity, sutra reading is a full-fledged merit-making activity. In particular, the Dokyo yojin stresses that by chanting a sutra earnestly, the practitioner and all other beings will attain the supreme bodhi. The reason is explained as follows: "To look at this scripture is to look at a manifestation (bunshin) of Sakyamuni" and all other Buddhas. All Buddhas are identical (ittai) with this sutra. As indicated by Zhiyi, written characters of the scriptures are manifestation bodies (ojin) of the Buddha, and as such, they can ensure liberation (gedatsu). Next, the text presents a Tantric type of visualization. The practitioner should imagine that one character, like a hair knot, turns into the Buddha. The Buddha fills up the ten directions, brings benefits to all beings and preaches the Dharma according to the nature of his multifarious audiences (zuirui seppo ). This Buddha comes to me and teaches me. He puts forth light and brightens up my body. He eliminates all karmic hindrances I have committed since the eternity; his preaching to all other sentient beings takes place exactly in the same way. The visualization continues: "This Buddha at the moment of my passing away comes to me and takes me to the Pure Land." A second visualization, again of a Tantric kind, is presented as follows: All buddhas pervading the ten directions of the Dharma Realm turn into one body and abide within my heart/mind. This Buddha puts forth light that brightens up my body. My body is now luminous and without impurities; it is like a clear mirror. To see my body is to see the Buddha; there is no Buddha outside of it. The production of karma is deliverance. Therefore, all beings in the Dharma Realm are all inside me and visualize the same images. I and the others are not-two.

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This visualization is followed by a vow to bring benefits to all beings by chanting the sutra. The text makes explicit the idea that the sound of the scripture is a substitute for the prajiia resulting from visualization; it is therefore an essential aid for the nonprofessional religious person: The sound of sutra chanting pervades the Dharma Realm; it reaches all Buddha-lands in the ten directions and praises the buddhas and preaches the sublime Dharma of all buddhas. When it pervades the six destinations, and in particular when this sound reaches hell, its denizens just by hearing it are freed from suffering and attain pleasure and are set free from the punishment of hell. The text ends with a list of more immediate worldly benefits such as healing, gaining wealth, and securing a position in the state bureaucracy. To summarize, the Dokyo yojin envisions the scriptures as alternate bodies or manifestations of the Buddha. Both phonetic and graphic signifiers are endowed with salvific agency, which when actualized by reading/chanting, permeates the Dharma Realm. At the background of this vision, there appears to be the Tantric doctrine that sound is one of the fundamental modalities of being of the universe, and of the Buddha as well, a doctrine systematized in Japan by Kukai in his Shoji jissogi. The Dokyo yojin also recognizes at least two forms of actualization of the scriptures: a complex visualization ritual and a simpler chanting. The scriptures also bring benefits on the basis of two modalities: an active one (in the case of the practitioner) and a passive one (in the case of all other sentient beings who do not participate directly in the ritual). Within this framework narratives about the diffusion of specific scriptures acquire a particular significance. For example, the Mahavairocana Sutra appears in a number of medieval stories about the diffusion of esoteric Buddhism in Japan. According to a legend dating back at least to Gyonen's Sangoku buppo denzu engi (r3n), the Tantric Patriarch Subhakarasirp.ha (637-735) went to Japan around 728-729 to spread esoteric Buddhism. He built a hut on a small hill to the southwest of the future site of the T odaiji,

in the place where later KUkai would build the Shingon'in. Since Subhakarasirp.ha did not find anyone with the capacity to understand his teachings, he built a stupa east of Kumedera in Yamato Province and buried a copy of the Mahavairocana Sutra under its main pillar in the hope that in the future someone with special karmic affinities to this text would discover it. It was Kukai who one day found the scripture. He tried to read it but

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was not able to understand it, so he decided to go to China in quest of the Dharma. 95 This story makes clear that the sutra is, in a very concrete and direct way, the primary access to Buddhism. The mechanism described in the story is at the basis of many practices, from the burial of scriptures (maikyo, particularly important in the Heian period) to the "discovery" of secret scriptures in medieval Tibet. 96 It could also be indirectly related to the practice of inscribing entire scriptures on a given sacred territory, as described by Allan Grapard. 97 It is interesting to note that the Mahavairocana Sutra is a cosmological model as the condensation of the universe; it also has an important ritual component, especially the last fascicle, which is believed to have been the result of a direct manifestation. The legend of the indirect encounter between Kiikai and Subhakarasirpha, mediated by a buried scripture, can also be understood as a metaphor of the medieval way to access and use sacred texts. Texts are meaningless in themselves; what really matter are the manifold ascetic practices associated with them, the initiation process to receive them, and the status that one acquires by owning them. In this sense, texts (and scriptures in particular but also commentarial works) are more than mere books: They function as ritual and magical objects. It is for this reason that many texts in East Asia tell of countless miracles performed by the scriptures themselves. 98 Our next task, then, will be investigating the ontological nature of sacred texts. Already in India, Buddhist scriptures were envisioned as the spiritual, "textualized" body of the Dharma and were defined as "Dharma relics" (dharma sarlra,Jp. ha shari) of Sakyamuni to distinguish them from his "corporeal relics" (Jp. shin shari). This connection was related to speculations on the nature of the Dharma-body (Dharmakaya). The Ratnagotravibhaga says: "The Dharma Body should be understood in two ways: as the completely pure Dharma Element and as the profound and extensive teaching that flows from that [Dharma Element]." 99 This passage was the object of many commentaries. For our purposes, we must notice that it envisions scriptures as the concrete occurrences of the teachings, which in turn were manifestations of an absolute entity, the Dharma Element (dharmadhatu). In other words, the Dharma Element was treated as the content of Buddha's wisdom-that is, a sort of signified expressed by a signifier, the Dharmabody made of books. With the development of Mahayana's philosophical speculation, the meaning of Dharmakaya was expanded to refer to the

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absolute modality of the Buddha, the ultimate principle of the umverse and of salvation. 100 In Japan, in particular within the esoteric tradition, Dharmakaya was further assimilated with Dharmadhatu, understood as the ultimate ground of reality and of Buddhist soteriology. At this point, it was easy to make a connection between scriptures and the ontology of the Buddhist cosmos. 101 Some authors began to think that the original and complete text of the scripture is the entire universe. The idea that the entire universe is a sutra actually appears in India in the AvataiJlsaka philosophy systematized in the Buddhavatarttsaka Sutra (Jp. Kegonkyo). 102 In China and Japan, this idea gave rise to the doctrine of the three variants of that sutra, according to which the version of the sutra circulating in our world is the smaller one; however, two much larger versions exist. The large version (johon) contains "a number of verses equivalent to the number of atoms in ten great trichiliocosms" and a number of chapters equivalent to "the number of atoms in the world of Mount Sumeru." The medium version (chuhon) contains 498,8oo verses and r,2oo chapters. These expansive versions have not been transmitted to Jambudvipa but are stored in the Dragon Palace (ryugu). 103 Esoteric Buddhism applied this idea to the Mahavairocana Sutra. Kiikai wrote: There are three versions of this sutra. The first is the spontaneous and unconditioned (honi) and permanent text, that is, the Dharma mandata of all buddhas. The second is the large version circulating in the world, that is, the sutra in hundred thousand verses transmitted by Nagarjuna. The third is the abbreviated text of some three thousand verses [of the Chinese translation]. Even though it contains three thousand verses in seven fascicles, this abbreviated version embraces the larger ones as the few contains the numerous. One character contains unlimited meanings; one single stroke contains innumerable truths. 104 Here, too, the original and complete text of the scripture is the entire universe. This scriptural modality of the universe is defined by Kiikai as the Dharma mandala, one of the four kinds of mandalas in which the esoteric cosmos is structured. As we saw in Chapter r, the Dharma mandala (Jp. ho mandara) represents/manifests the linguistic and graphic modality of existence of the cosmos. This modality is conceived of by Kiikai as "spontaneous and unconditioned (honi) and permanent" -a veritable absolute entity coextensive with the body of the Dharmakaya. The second recension of the

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scripture is the written text supposedly transmitted by the mythological figure Vajrasattva to the philosopher-Bodhisattva Nagarjuna inside the Iron Stupa in southern India. This recension is an abridged semiotic translation in human language of the cosmic text. 105 The third recension of the sutra is a further abbreviation transmitted to East Asia and translated into Chinese by Subhakarasirpha (Ch. Shanwuwei, Jp. Zenmui, 637-735), the founder of Chinese esoteric Buddhism.106 What unites these three versions is a logic not "of abridgment but of condensation"; in fact, the three versions are not separate entities but "three mutually inclusive levels of the same siitra." 107 The original version of the Mahavairocana Sutra, the so-called "absolute, vast and eternal recension" (honi jogo-bon), 108 coextensive with the Dharma Realm, is also the "textual" form of the preaching of the Dharmakaya (hosshin seppo ), an eternal sermon of cosmic dimensions theorized by the Shingon tradition. Such a sermon, constituting the core of esoteric Buddhism, is "transmitted through letters (mon) which spontaneously appeared in the sky and among human beings," 109 as Kiikai wrote referring to the appearance in the sky of the Sanskrit letter A as the result of esoteric practice. According to an Indian doctrine, reported in the

Mahavairocana Sutra; Sanskrit letters are not the product of conditioned causation but spontaneous and autonomous (honi jinen) entities.U 0 In this way, Buddhism, and esoteric Buddhism in particular, claimed to be intrinsically superior to other teachings because of the ontological status of the linguistic medium that transmits it. Whereas non-Buddhist teachings are based on conventional and arbitrary sign systems, Buddhism is conveyed by an unconditioned and spontaneous language. Whereas the former's language is fallacious, the latter is able to represent the essence of things. 111 In particular, that of mantras is the true language because, as Kiikai wrote, "it alone can designate infallibly the reality of objects as they truly are." As Ryiiichi Abe explains, Kiikai's text strives for totality not in its representation. His model of the text is not encyclopedic, for it is neither self-contained nor completed. On the contrary, Kiikai approaches the text as a yet-to-be-bound-or, perhaps more appropriately, never-to-be-bound-constantly reworked manuscript ... the world is made of texts and only of texts-not of their representational function but of their materiality. 112 This very productive suggestion forces us to revise our received ideas of texts and textuality. As we have see thus far, esoteric Buddhist scriptures,

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and Buddhist texts in general, did not have a solely cognitive function. They needed to be constantly reworked in commentaries, rituals, painting, and literary works. As such, they generated a boundless proliferation of sense. However, it is also true that the scriptural text was closed, after all, as a replica-or rather, as a modality of existence of a veritable textual nature-of the entire universe. What mattered was the materiality of the texts themselves, a materiality that generated labor articulated in semiotic, manual, ritual, and performative forms. In fact, labor is an important metaphor for textual production within the medieval Japanese episteme strongly influenced by esoteric Buddhism. For example, Kukai was fond of comparing scriptures and mandalas-the two fundamental and interrelated models of "text"-with brocade: "The mantras are the woof, the sacred mudras are the warp, and the samadhi is the shuttle; they weave the brocade of the ocean-like assembly [i.e., the mandala] greatly admired by sentient beings." 113 The materiality of the text was also expressed by Kukai in verses: Mountains are brushes, the ocean is ink Heaven and the earth are the box preserving the sutras; Each stroke of a character contains all things in the universe.U 4 In this way, nature is not the opposite of culture but, on the contrary, the substance, the materiality of culture, the source of culture's endless productivity of multiple textual formations. The process of appearance and diffusion of unconditioned textual formations such as "eternal and vast" recensions of scriptures, mandalas, and talismans (what I have called elsewhere the "transmission of mandalic episteme") 115 is articulated in three steps. First, there is the occurrence of a primary act of semiotic production, in which a supernatural being (Mahavairocana), in its original modality of existence and immersed in the supreme samadhi, preaches the Dharma (including teachings about semiotic entities), as is the case of esoteric Buddhist scriptures-not only in speech but also in images (icons) and written forms. This foundational act of semiosis is reinforced by instances of revelation of a material "text," as when the mandalas of the two realms appeared in the sky or when priests were revealed teachings and images of divine beings in dreams (an event comparatively common in medieval Japan). Such revealed texts operated a primary, unconditioned (i.e., independent of cultural and human conditionings) display. Second, sacred words and signs, with their meanings and

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their uses, are parts of a corpus of revealed texts and their commentaries, the result of a knowledge (often of a secret nature) that can be traced back directly and without changes to the founding deity itself. Third, there is a group of people who are initiated to such secret teachings concerning the revealed, unconditioned texts and who put these teachings into practice and transmit them. These three steps correspond to the Three Jewels (the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Samgha), the core of Buddhism and foundation of the supernatural power of its practices and signs.l1 6 The expressive forms of esoteric Buddhism are thus not just instruments for the interpretation of reality, vehicles of a lofty and sublime communication. Esoteric signs are unconditioned and absolute; this paradox is at the core of the nondualistic esoteric system. As a consequence, esoteric expressions properly speaking lose their status of "signs" because they no longer "stand to someone for something else under some respect or capacity," according to the wellknown definition by Charles S. Peirce. In the medieval Japanese episteme, sacred texts are microcosms, holographs of the Dharma Realm. The ontological status of Buddhist scriptures is at the basis of the most radical affirmation of the material nature of texts and its performative effects as can be found in the practice to copy Buddhist scriptures in blood. As John Kieschnick has indicated, blood writing was based on scriptural sources. 117 For example, the Avatamsaka Sutra and Brahma's Net Sutra present blood writing as a way to literally embody the content of Buddhist scriptures-a task that would otherwise be almost impossible to carry out "hermeneutically." 118 It is perhaps in this line of thought that the Chinese monk Ouyi Zhixu (1599-1655) downplayed "lofty talk of philosophical principles" and extolled instead the "inconceivable merit" of copying the Lotus Sutra with one's blood. 119 Thus, the devotees who engaged in such a practice were looking not only for merit and asceticism but also and in particular for a dramatic transformative effect. This practice enabled people, including those who were "dull by nature," to "understand" the doctrines of the sutras. What did such "understanding" consist in? The prominent sixteenth-century Chinese monk Hanshan Deqing hoped, by copying a scripture in his own blood, "to exchange this illusory body for one that is permanent and adamantine." He also wrote that "by drawing his blood to copy this scripture, the blood of his illusory body will drip into the sea of the Dharma nature." 120 This metamorphosis-to dissolve one's body into the Dharma-nature and thus gain the permanent and adamantine

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Buddha-body-was possible because the human body and the sutras were conceived as both parts of the universal, adamantine body of the Buddha. Blood writing could also aim at negative transformations. A medieval Japanese legend concerning Emperor Sutoku is emblematic in this respect. Disgruntled with the political regime that had marginalized him and forced him into exile, Sutoku vowed to become Ma.ra, the archenemy of the Buddha, and threaten the order of Japan. To that purpose, he copied the entire Buddhist Canon with his blood and threw it in the sea to send it to the Dragon Palace. 121 Although sending the Canon to the Dragon Palace was probably meant to be a way to hasten the end of Buddhism, 122 Sutoku's blood writing aimed at a transformation that was no less dramatic than that envisioned by Ming period Chinese monks. However, even though Sutoku aimed to be reincarnated as an evil being, the material medium to be manipulated to achieve such a transformation was the same: Buddhist scriptures. The equivalence of the scriptures with one's body can also be seen in other more recent and less violent attitudes. For example, Soto priest Shimizu Koryii (r884-1975) wrote that the gesture of joining one's hands in prayer (gassho) is the equivalent of reading with one's body the entire Buddhist Canon. 123 Here, the act of reading is completely made unnecessary by ritual action-the simplest and most fundamental Buddhist gesture. This idea presents interesting issues concerning the envisioned identity of a Buddhist: Are Buddhists those who read the scriptures (and presumably, act according to the teachings), or are they those who merely perform Buddhist gestures? Furthermore, what is the meaning of a Buddhist gesture that is not grounded in the intellectual/semantic system provided by the content of the scriptures?

For a Semiotics of Sacred Texts Buddhist scriptures, texts such as the Heavenly Talisman from the Reikiki, and works of famous masters such as the Shobogenzo can be (and in fact, were) used as materials for hermeneutic activities. However, many cases of ritual and devotional practices involving scriptures in Japan show a different, fundamental logic. Scripture is treated not as a signifier endowed with specific, codified meaning but as a particular object embodying a sacred power (or in some instances, as the Sacred itself). Scriptures are thus closely

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connected with other sacred objects such as icons, relics, talismans, and ritual implements. As such, they require manipulation rather than exegesis, and this involves the proliferation of objects and activities related to them. The fact that scriptures are not mere texts but embodiments of the sacred generates a fluctuation in their conceptual status between inanimate and animate entities; hence, their contiguity with the Buddha-body (from the Dharma-body in its earlier meaning as Sakyamuni's doctrinal legacy to its being coextensive with the entire universe) but also with the individual practitioner's body. To explain the different attitudes toward semiotic entities within the medieval Japanese episteme, it is possible to distinguish among three different orders of significance that are also related to three different "regimes of reading"-namely, semiosophia, semiognosis, and semiopietas. 124 By "semiosophia," I define the exoteric vision according to which signs are arbitrary and illusory but can be used for religious purposes as skillful means (upiiya). "Semiognosis" refers to specific doctrines and practices that are claimed to have been extracted from signs themselves and that can produce either religious salvation or material benefits in this world. This is the level of initiatory knowledge concerning structure, function, and power of the esoteric symbols constituting the intellectual content of esoteric initiation and the key to religious attainment. Finally, "semiopietas" is the noninitiatory and uninformed beliefs and practices concerning esoteric signs such as buddha images, pilgrimage sites, and talismans. In terms of texts and regimes of reading, a semiosophic approach considers a text as a vehicle for religious and doctrinal meaning; the focus here is on the signified and not so much on the signifier and the strategies of signification. Semiopietas treats a text as a magical object able to generate worldly benefits without the need of explaining such power. Semiognosis, in contrast, treats a text as a microcosmic religious machine. Its salvific power is produced by various kinds of semiotic operations, mainly directed at transforming written signs into kinds of replicas of their objects, so that the practices in which they occur are considered identical with their goals. Esoteric textual practices consist mainly of visualization and ritual manipulation of mantric expressions (shingon darani) and other complex symbols (mudrii, ritual implements, images, space, etc.) of various kinds, whose very structure, organized on three deeper levels of significance (jinpi, hichit no jinpi, hihichu no jinpi), appears to the initiated person as an inscrip-

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tion of the path to salvation and the attainment of perfection (siddhi)P 5 In this way, salvation is "extracted" from the signs in which it is inscribed; the liturgical use of certain sacred texts according to the proper initiatory rules is "becoming a buddha in this very body" (sokushin jobutsu). Proper to semiognosis are also its combinatory and correlative logic and practices (shugo ), which lay at the basis of Japanese medieval religiosity. As Allan Grapard has pointed out, the esoteric interpretation of reality was governed by operations on the substance (both graphic and phonetic) and the meaning of sacred texts. 126 Such a combinatory reduced a multiplicity of concepts and objects to a singular entity, but at the same time, it also exposed the plural and complex nature of apparently singular entities. 127 A general model of medieval Japanese sacred texts can be found in talismans. Talismans and sacred texts existed primarily not to be interpreted; their language is archaic, abstruse, and meaningless without commentaries. (According to this episteme, commentaries are translations in religious or philosophical language of the essence of the universe.) Texts of this kind, especially the so-called secret texts (hidensho), functioned mainly as ritual objects and accordingly had to be ritually employed. They were handed down in a strictly controlled fashion from master to disciple as symbols of spiritual achievement, legitimacy, and orthodoxy. They were manipulated as amulets, condensations of cosmic power-cosmic power that was "translated" into various semiotic materials (paintings, narratives, and even inscribed in mountains). Finally, they were used to communicate directly with the deities through ritual practice. What kind of semiosis is implied by this kind of talismanic communication with the realm of invisible potencies? In a way, a talisman does "stand for something else," such as its unconditioned original, a god, a sacred place, or even the primordial cosmic energy. However, these entities are not "signified" by the talisman because there is no proper "signified" corresponding to the talismanic signifier. The talisman is those entities to which it must be reunited to be effective through ritual action. As a coagulation of the cosmos, the talisman is in itself a microcosm or, as language philosopher and anthropologist Giorgio Raimondo Cardona calls it, a pentaculum, a magical object constructed around an interplay between macro- and microcosm, which ensures the control over cosmic forces.U 8 As Cardona explains, this particular form of text is a model that reproduces cosmic forces and events that are present in the materiality of the texts themselves. No

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interpretive strategies develop to explain the talismans, or if they do, these explanations are just provisional efforts to show the cosmic structure of the talisman and its function in ritual. In other words, talismans are made not to be interpreted but to be used to produce certain effects. We have here a sort of "illocutive" act (a manipulation of language to produce certain effects/changes in the world), which does not pertain to "speech" but to "writing"-if it is possible to suggest a theory of the illocutionary and perlocutionary effects of written speech acts. 129 To put this in different semiotic terms, we are dealing here with a logic of ostension similar to what we have already encountered in our discussion of buddha images in the previous chapter. As we have seen, ostension "occurs when a given object or event produced by nature or human action (intentionally or unintentionally and existing in a world of facts as a fact among facts) is 'picked up' by someone and shown as the expression of the class of which it is a member." 130 A text can thus be understood as a double of its author (human or divine), as when "a cigarette is shown in order to describe the properties of a cigarette," as an example, an object that "is selected as a whole to express its class," and as a sample, as "when only part of an object is selected to express the entire object (and therefore its class)." 131 A sacred text was understood as an ostensive sign of the author and, ultimately, of the totality of the Dharma-body and the Dharma Realm. It is not surprising, then, that texts understood in such a way according to the medieval Japanese episteme were often transmitted in complex ritual practices known as kanji5 (consecration rituals). In esoteric Buddhism, kanji5 is the ritual in which an adept is sanctioned to have attained the deepest truths of a certain text or doctrine. As we have already seen, Mikkyo envisions all semiotic entities as endowed with four levels of meaning, one superficial and three secret. Kanjo is the proper way to certify the transmission of the secret meanings. Initially, kanjo was performed only to hand down esoteric Buddhist texts and doctrines, but in medieval Japan, it became the paradigmatic form of transmission of all important texts and knowledge in general. Thus, we find initiation rituals on Shinto texts and doctrines (Nihonshoki, Reikiki), known as shinti5 kanji5 or jingi kanjo, and on literary texts such as poetry collections and the Ise monogatari (waka kanjo ). 132 In certain cases, there was no actual kanjo but different rituals, known as kuden (oral transmission) or hiden (secret transmission), for the transmission of a secret knowledge or know-how concerning, for

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example, performing arts (No) and professional tools (Chapter 5). The reason for the development of such rituals is not known. I believe it is a consequence of the systematic mandalization carried out in medieval Japan by esoteric Buddhism as a way to spread its epistemic field and acquire a sort of cultural hegemony. In such an epistemic framework, each text, each cultural artifact, including nonreligious ones, was understood as a potential esoteric symbol endowed with several levels of meaning and with secret knowledge. The attainment of such a secret knowledge was a soteriological goal because it was equivalent to the attainment of salvation and a promise of worldly benefits (outside the religious world, this translated as professional and artistic success). In this sense, kanjo rituals were the natural complement of semiognosis. Because of the nature of such knowledge, not everyone was entitled to receive it; initiation rituals, with their strict regulations, functioned as devices to control the access and the proliferation of meaning and knowledge. Scriptures, together with many other Buddhist texts, when treated as performative tools, appear to share the same ontological status of Buddhist relics and icons "as presence pure and simple." 133 In this context, a text does "not represent, symbolize, or denote a transcendent presence, numinous absence, or anything in between." 134 A text thus can also function as an icon, "a specific sort of religious image that is believed to partake or participate in the substance of that which it represents. In other words, an icon does not merely bear the likeness of the divine, but shares in its very nature." 135 Analogously to the Indian gods studied by Richard Davis and the buddha images we discussed in the previous chapter, the Buddhist Dharma also has "two primary modes of being ... :undifferentiated and differentiated, formless and corporeal, unmanifest and manifest, without attributes and with attributes, supreme and accessible, and so on." 136 Kllkai, among others, made a similar point when he wrote: "The Dharma is beyond speech, but without speech it cannot be revealed. Suchness transcends forms, but without depending on forms it cannot be realized ... The Buddha's teachings are indeed the treasures which help pacify the nation and bring benefits to people." 137 In this passage, Kiikai refers to the Indian traditional worship of Buddhist scriptures we have mentioned previously. Semiotic strategies are needed to make the Dharma manifest. However, Kllkai did not think that signs are just provisional, functional entities. In his works, signs are not arbitrary but motivated, which means they are direct

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manifestations (according to the mode of ostension, as we have already seen) of the underlying and all-pervasive absolute substance.

Epilogue: Toward a Textual Materiality As I mentioned in the introduction to this chapter, there is today a general tendency to privilege the semantic dimension of texts. Even though this phenomenon has a long history, its most immediate cause can perhaps be found in the diffusion of hermeneutic disciplines during the last hundred years. Wilhelm Dilthey, the founder of modern hermeneutics, wrote that hermeneutics tends "to see the physical side of what is going on as a mere condition, as mere instruments of understanding. This is caused by the emphasis of these disciplines on self-reflection, on the directness of understanding." 138 As Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht notes: These sentences presuppose that "meanings" are always given-in the interiority of the subject's psyche. The articulation/expression of such meanings, however, on the material surface of a spoken or a written text is expected to remain necessarily incomplete and fragmentary. Within the basic hermeneutic topology, it is precisely this insufficiency that accounts for the need of interpretation and for the devaluation of any material surface as secondary in relation to subjective interiority. 139 It is in this sense that we can understand the paradoxical "fusion of horizons" in which the interpreter's spirit merges with the author's, which is, in Hans Gadamer's view, the ultimate goal of the hermeneutic project. However, contemporary semiotics, among other disciplines, has contributed to dismantling the conceptual apparatus grounding such emphasis on meaning-namely, the idea of a material signifier conveying a spiritual signified. According to the definition of "sign" proposed by Danish linguist Luis Hjelmslev and further developed by Umberto Eco, any semiotic unit is the result of the correlation of at least one "expression" (the signifier) with at least one "content" (the signified), both of which are further articulated in "form" and "substance"; expression and content are produced out of a "continuum" of matter and thought. 140 The significance of a sacred text, then, lies not only in the meaning conveyed by its written expression but in a combination of factors: the material of the substance of the expression, the specific form it takes (chanting, burial, etc.), the substance of the content (the general ideological framework of sutra worship), and the form

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of the content (the specific cultural portions of meaning that textual uses intend to actualize). The "materialities of communication" envisioned by Hans Gumbrecht and Ludwig Pfeiffer build up on Hjelmslev's semiotics and shift the emphasis "from interpretation as identification of given meaning-structures to the reconstruction of those processes through which structures of articulated meaning can at all emerge" (emphasis in original). 141 "Materialities of communication" thus refers to "the totality of phenomena contributing to the constitution of meaning without being meaning themselves." 142 In other words, "To thematize 'materialities of communication' means to ask for the non-meaning of constituted presuppositions, the place, the carriers, and the modalities of the emergence of meaning." 143 All these considerations indicate the need to address more consciously and systematically what Howard Bloch has defined the "practice of texts," in particular "the question of reception ... , as well as ... the global issue of use and social function." 144 As Bloch explains, the practice of texts involves the ways in which a culture ritualizes-ignores, appropriates, suppresses, disseminates, banalizes, fetishizes-the corpus of symbolic possibilities available to it at a given moment. And, finally, it entails the modes by which various means of textual production mediate and are mediated by other cultural discourses (e.g., familial, scientific, economic, legal). 145 Hence, we need to go beyond simplistic semiotic models and address what Gerard Genette has called "transtextuality": "everything that puts [a text] in a relation, manifest or secret, with other texts." 146 In this case, "text" refers not just to books or written texts but to any cultural artifact potentially endowed with meaning. In particular, Genette has identified five kinds of transtextuality: intertextuality, paratext, metatextuality, hypertextuality, and architextuality. These are the definitions offered by Genette: Intertextuality is "a relation of copresence between two or more texts, that is ... the presence of one text into another." 147 Paratext is "title, subtitle, intertitles, prefaces, postfaces, advertisements, forewords, etc.; marginal notes, footnotes, endnotes; epigraphs; illustrations; ... as well as other types of accessory signals, autograph or allograph, that provide the text with an entourage (variable) and at times a commentary, official or unofficial." 148 Metatextuality is "the relation ... of 'commentary,' which unites a text to another of which it speaks about, without necessarily quot-

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ing it." 149 Hypertextuality is "every relation uniting a text B (which I will call hypertext) to a previous text A (which I will call [...] hypotext) on which it is imbricated in a way which is not that of the commentary." 150 Finally, architextuality is "the ensemble of general, or transcendent, categories-types of discourse, modes of enunciation, literary genres, etc.-to which each individual text belongs." 151 This terminology, which I admit is rather cumbersome, becomes useful if we envision objects, rituals, magical effects, and religious contexts as particular kind of texts that are "transtextually" associated with the sacred books we study. In this way, intertextuality, for example, could refer to the copresence of talismans and ritual texts within a specific doctrinal text. Paratext indicates all the information that serves to imbricate doctrinal features onto ritual and magical elements. Metatextuality points to the doctrinal justifications or assumptions behind materially based ritual usages. Hypertextuality denotes every relation uniting a written text to its religious and ritual uses. And finally, architextuality indicates the various cultural categories in which a religious text belongs. This approach will allow us to treat a sacred text in its materiality and its relation with other texts (not necessarily written texts) and in all its performative (or performing) functions. This "transtext" would then set the limits for the interpretation of the multiple and shifting cultural uses of religious texts beyond their semantic dimension and their written signifieds. Such an approach promises to be rather productive, especially in certain kinds of interaction with texts such as the various forms of Genji kuyo (memorial rituals for the Genji monogatari and its author) I discuss in Chapter 6. As we will see, an important trend of Buddhist thought in premodern Japan argued that the meaning of Genji monogatari had to be criticized and purified of its most obviously mundane aspect. Meaning was purified in ritual actions in which the paper on which the text was written was either recycled to be used for the copy of Buddhist scriptures (in which case, the original secular text was completely lost) or variously superinscribed with religious texts (in which case, the original Genji text was preserved but its secular nature was relativized by the copresence of sacred writs). It is significant that operations purportedly affecting meaning were carried out literally on the surface of the text (on the signifier and its material support) as a further indication of the complex interactions between these various levels in the existence of a text as a cultural artifact.

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We can envision an even more radical perspective emphasizing the fact that at least certain books, such as those I have been discussing thus far, have value not only for their intrinsic meanings; in fact, hermeneutic meaning can be almost (or completely) irrelevant to their use and appreciation. Jacques Lacan, among others, gestured toward a similar approach with his attempt to look at signifiers in their material aspect and his mathematical equations, "true magic formulas, supposed to be all the more effective for being devoid of meaning." 152 As Ludwig Pfeiffer has written, in a Lacanian perspective "communication is envisaged less as an exchange of meanings, of ideas about ... , and more as performance propelled into movement by variously materialized signifiers." 153 In this sense, the "nonhermeneutic" dimension is a modality of written texts (and of other apparently communicative texts/ objects) that requires different forms of interaction and use. Precisely, it requires a performative approach: not just (or not only) reading in search for meaning (i.e., scanning the expression to identify a content, "hermeneutic reading") but chanting, copying, various forms of ritual interaction, institutional interventions, 154 the attribution (and evaluation) of additional forms of value that transcend "meaning" (affective, aesthetic, economic, symbolic, etc.).

11 THE CULTURAL IMAGINATION OF TREES AND THE ENVIRONMENT

In many cultures, trees and the natural environment in general constitute powerful symbolic entities related to complex issues such as self-identity, ideas of morality, and visions of one's place in the world. 1 Japan is no exception, and the idea that the Japanese have a particularly strong affection for nature has become one of the standard topoi of discourses on Japanese culture. Often, this love for nature is characterized with strong aesthetic overtones, which serve to remove this concept from the arena of rational discussion and discursive practices into a wordless realm of direct sensations from which outsiders are excluded. Such an alleged "love for nature" is a typical modern representation-one that actually masks an increasing separation of the Japanese from their traditional natural environment as a consequence of massive urbanization and industrial and technological development. However, it is important to note that the natural world, and trees in particular, have played an important symbolic function since antiquity. In this chapter, I trace a conceptual map of a number of issues related to the symbolic and ideological function played by trees as a multivalent semiotic unit from the perspective of Buddhist approaches to materiality. In particular, I address the development of the modern Japanese concept of nature (shizen) and related claims of a special attitude toward nature that 129

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supposedly characterizes Japanese culture and its outlook on life. Such an attitude is usually attributed to an undercurrent of animism, which is supposed to form the core of Japanese civilization. Authors claim that Buddhist ideas about plants and the nonsentients discussed in Chapter r, together with religious attitudes toward material objects, in fact stem from these animist tendencies, commonly identified with Shinto. To disentangle this conceptual cluster "love for nature-animism-Shinto," I discuss premodern documents in which trees constitute the arena of contested relations between the sacred and the profane, the human-social world and the realm of the deities, and in particular, of dynamic relations between Buddhism and local cults. I suggest that trees were not just a symbol of nature and the sacred but also, and more pragmatically, a natural resource whose exploitation was often contested among various social groups. Furthermore, I show that Buddhism appropriated Japanese discursive practices concerning trees and the natural environment in general, developed them, and put them in relation with its own philosophical system (cosmology, ontology, soteriology) on the one hand and ideology and forms of social control on the other. In the course of history, such a set of discursive practices (or at least, part of them) was gradually separated from Buddhism to become associated, especially since the Edo period, with a new discursive formation, Shinto, with strong Nativist components. In a sense, then, Buddhist thinkers and temple land managers were perhaps the first in Japan to be concerned intellectually with the material world (usually symbolized by trees and the territory). New interpretations of nature and of Japanese attitudes toward it grew out of an ideological struggle with Buddhism.

Environmentalism and Ecological Ethics: A Genealogy of Japanese Ideas on the Sacredness of Nature Buddhist doctrines acknowledging the possibility for plants to become buddhas (somoku jobutsu) are often taken as representing some key aspects of the Japanese attitude toward nature and the environment. In Japan, Umehara Takeshi, Sakamoto Yukio, and Tamura Yoshiro, among others, support this position in different forms. 2 David Shaner presents thus the standard interpretation: The Japanese religious and philosophical tradition represents a resource for environmental philosophy in its long-standing theoretical and practical

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commitment to an ecocentric, as opposed to homocentric or egocentric, world view ... In the Japanese tradition, ecocentricism and cultivation [shugyo] represent two threads that weave a seamless ethical fabric characterized by developing one's sensitivity to others and nature. 3 Statements of this kind are now part of the received understanding of Japanese culture and religion; however, some authors have expressed skepticism toward them. Lambert Schmithausen, for instance, has written: "Although Eastern beliefs are said to stress harmony of man with nature in contrast to the Western concept of dominance and exploit, it is a fact that environmental damage is now hardly less serious in the East than in the West." 4 In fact, such presumptions of an "Oriental" deep ecologism are problematic. Nature is a highly complex and ambiguous term, which can partake of many meanings depending on the intellectual contexts in which it is employed. 5 If ideas on plants' Buddhahood are just extensions of more general cultural trends, they lose their originality as particular intellectual formations. We should also remember that Japanese Buddhism, as we have seen, was not completely supportive of these ideas, which were the objects of debates and criticism. Must we conclude that people such as Shoshin, Honen (II33-I2I2), or Dogen, who, for different reasons, did not recognize an active, explicit form of Buddha-nature in plants, were not good Buddhists (or perhaps, not good Japanese)? Even when we consider the development of hongaku thought, Tendai and Shingon doctrines on the status of nonsentients assumed different, if not contrasting, forms and indicate that there was not "one" Japanese attitude toward nature. In fact, premodern authors debated whether "becoming a buddha" for a plant was the result of the plant's active agency or rather a passive consequence of a sentient being's enlightenment. We can hardly label as "ecocentric" (in contrast to "homocentric," as David Shaner calls it) a doctrine that considers plants, nonsentients, and the environment in general as sentient beings modeled on the human species, which was the doctrinal move Shingon and Tendai theorists often made. Finally, it is possible to argue, as I do in this chapter, that somoku jobutsu doctrines were not directly or especially expressions of ecological concerns, but rather, they were tools in the ideological edifice of premodern (especially medieval) Japanese Buddhism and society in general. Thus, there is ample reason to reconsider the position of these doctrines within the intellectual history of Japanese culture, with particular regard to their ideological effects.

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Arguments such as the one put forth by Shaner imply a number of more or less explicit assumptions. They suggest that Japanese culture is uniquely different from all others; that it is characterized by the permanence of certain essential features such as a special, direct relationship with nature and reality in general; that such a direct relationship is a consequence of primordial attitudes found in the cults of the earliest inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago; 6 that the essential elements of these cults are still surviving today in Shinto; and that Buddhism was influenced and modified by Shinto. Interestingly, the alleged "love for nature" of the Japanese seems to function only in Japan. Authors are either not concerned with environmental damage caused by Japanese companies abroad, or they explain such damage as an evil outcome of Western influence. The notion of a love for nature that is unique to the Japanese is often a conceptual reference point for nationalistic attitudes and cultural chauvinism. The theoretical and practical problems posed by such widely accepted ideas are evident. Thus, culture is essentialized, and Japan is treated as a sublime exception; particularly dubious are claims concerning the Japanese special connection with the core of reality. 7 The history of Japanese religion is also treated in a hypersimplified manner to support the entire ideological edifice of cultural nationalism. There is no need to point to the continuity of these ideas with those exposed in the field known as Nihonjinron. 8 It is worth noting, though, that Nihonjinron ideas also influence the study of Buddhism, as in the case of doctrines concerning the nonsentients, in ways that prevent a real understanding of the cultural impact of such doctrines. As a typical example of the attempt to project an immemorial and supposedly unchangeable past onto the present, described as the key of homogeneity and self-identity, Joseph Kitagawa writes: As far as we can tell, one of the basic features of the early Japanese religious universe was its unitary meaning-structure ... Everybody and everything in the early Japanese monistic religious universe, including physical elements such as fire, water, wood, and stone, as well as animals and celestial bodies, were believed to be endowed with kami nature. 9 More explicitly, "to the early Japanese, the natural world (Japan), therefore, was essentially the religious universe, a world in which all facets of daily living were considered religious acts. Such a religious universe was nurtured by myths." 10 In this quotation, we find a problematic fusion of two very different concepts-namely, "the natural world" and "Japan." The confusion

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of nature and the state, territory and the people, has spawned hundreds of volumes on the specificity of the Japanese and their attitudes toward nature. The assumption here is that already in ilia tempore there existed a country called "Japan"-that is, the Japanese state-and that there were the "Japanese" who all experienced "nature" in the same way as inseparable from the political entity in which they lived. As metahistorical entities, Japan and the Japanese, understood in this way, are "eternal and unchanging" (joju), as medieval Buddhist exegetes would say. Such a position explains, in this Nihonjinron argument, the continuity of basic cultural patterns such as the attitude toward nature or a supposedly animistic perspective. The very term used in Japanese to refer to "nature" has a complex history. The modern noun shizen is a neologism coined during the Meiji period to match the Latinate "nature." 11 In premodern Japanese, there was no general term to refer to what we call today "nature" (or shizen); terms such as kikai ("material environment"), tenchi ("heaven and earth"), and banbutsu (the "myriad things," i.e., all phenomena and objects) are the best approximations. Shizen is the on (Sinitic) sound of a word normally read jinen in classical Japanese sources. It belonged to Buddhist and Daoist philosophical discourses, in which it referred to something that is unconditioned and absolute. The classical Daoist texts, Laozi and Zhuangzi, defined zhiran (Jp. jinen) as the original modality of things, something that spontaneously is or becomes what it is. In Buddhist texts, jinen is employed as a translation of the Sanskrit svabhava, in turn a synonym of prakrti-that is, the individual essence of things. 12 In both its Daoist and Buddhist meanings, jinen is close to the Latin natura as referring to the individual essence, but this term was originally unrelated to what we call today the "natural world." However, shizen was used to translate the Latinate nature in a sense that was closer to the Greek physis, as the external, natural world in which human action takes place. This translation is symptomatic of Nativist and Neo-Nativist cultural interventions: take a Buddhist concept or cultural representation (in this case, the human environment, kikai, and the essence of things, jinen), change parts of its signifier (jinen to shizen), and modify its signified on the basis of a non-Buddhist ideological framework (with the claim that nature is an absolute and inviolable entity). Most texts on the Japanese concept of nature explain "nature" (shizen) as jinen (something that "becomes spontaneously," glossed as the totality of the universe), even though they emphasize the fact that shizen and jinen are

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different, even grammatically (shizen is a noun; jinen is often an adverb). A significant example of this attitude is an essay by Hubertus Tallenbach and Kimura Bin. These authors write that the ancient Japanese language had no noun corresponding to the English nature; however, they do not hesitate to use the meaning of the adverb jinen to explain the meaning of the modern neologism shizen. In this way, they can explain a new foreign concept (shizen) in terms of an ancient Oriental autochthonous tradition (jinen), but the philological and philosophical legitimacy of such an endeavor is questionable.U This is an example of the semiotics of reversed Orientalism, in which something that the "Westerners" saw in the "Orient" is appropriated by the "Orientals" by creating a new concept through old words. An analogous process is also at play perhaps in modern interpretations of Buddhist notions on plants becoming buddhas, in which historically determined Buddhist doctrines are interpreted as signifying supposedly more general and ahistorical features of the Japanese cultural identity (e.g., animism and love for nature). These features are implicitly presented as different from, if not diametrically opposed to, what authors believe are the grounds of Western civilization. Misaki Gisen argues, unconvincingly in my opinion, that the Buddhist notion of jinen is intrinsically connected with an aesthetic appreciation of nature (shizen). To strengthen his point, Misaki quotes a sentence such as, "The sound of waves, the voice of wind ... are always the unconditioned essence (musa no kenpon); one should know that this is the meaning of the sentence 'all dharmas are the Buddha-Dharma.' " 14 He also emphasizes the Buddhist source of poetic inspiration in works such as Kankyo no tomo, Senjusho, and Hosshinshu; poems in these texts are based on Buddhist ideas and sometimes even on Tendai shikan meditationY In a sense, Misaki's argument is not completely far-fetched. As we have seen, shizen is a modern translation of a combination of the Greek physis and the Latin natura; however, its Buddhist original, jinen, refers only to natura and not to physis. It is only with the development of hongaku thought in Japan that jinen (individual essence) becomes a nominal predicate with the sense "that which possesses individual essence"-that is, the ultimate nature of dharmas. Now, dharmas exist within the Dharma Realm, the totality of all things and beings; thus, jinen becomes an attribute, and at times a synonym, of Dharma Realm. Only in this limited and rather specific sense can the modern Japanese shizen be used to translate the Buddhist term jinen.

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The absolute value of nature can obtain only if we envision the natural world (the material environment of the karmically determined existence of beings) as part of Mahavairocana's universe. The idea that enlightenment can be attained through a nonordinary experience of the human material environment was developed in medieval Japan into esoteric rituals aimed at the acquisition of the "spontaneous wisdom" (jinenchi) to be attained without master (mushichi) referred to, for example, in the Commentary to the Mahiwairocana Sutra. 16 One such paradoxical ritual, called ]inen jodo (lit., "spontaneous attainment of enlightenment"), aimed to attain a spontaneous, autonomous, and unconditioned salvation, was in fact based on classical Buddhist concepts such as the "preaching of the Dharma by nonsentients" (mujo seppo ). It came to constitute the highest form of esoteric initiation, himitsu kanjo (secret consecration), a sort of empty signifier in the ritual system of esoteric Buddhism until it was given actual forms as the Yugi kanjo (Consecration into the Yoga Sutra) and jushiki kanjo (Consecration for the Promotion to a Priestly Post). A text describing one such ritual, entitled ]inen jodo shiki, has been studied by Misaki GisenY One of its passages reads, "the substantial, innate mind-king [Mahavairocana] is the master; by practicing spontaneously and by spontaneously bestowing upon oneself the consecration, one spontaneously becomes a buddha." 18 Some authors, such as Kiikai and Saigyo, did make the step from ritual and meditation on the absolute nature of everything around them to poetic inspiration drawn from the natural world, but they seem to be exceptions rather than the norm. In contrast, the famed poet Basho, for example, expressed in his compositions not nature in itself but nature as it was represented in the classical poems he admired. He traveled extensively not to see nature but to see the scenarios described in the poems he loved most. In his case, nature was a byproduct of culture and not the other way around. Whereas traditional local cults in Japan recognized the sacredness of only specific natural objects, we have seen that esoteric Buddhism emphasized the holiness (potentially, at least) of the entire universe as the sublime but material body of the cosmic Buddha. In fact, the idea that everything is a kami appears to have developed in medieval Japan within honji suijaku (the idea according to which Japanese kami are local traces of Buddhist original entities) and specifically Ryobu Shinto texts. In other words, a segment of the medieval Buddhist discourse, specializing on the nature of the kami, began to develop formulations, initially based on Tendai and Shingon

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Buddhism, that in due time came to constitute the basis for a new discursive formation known today as Shinto. In this section of the book, I will attempt to sketch some of the most important moments in the genealogy of Shinto visions of the natural world from its original Buddhist premises to early modern Confucian and Nativist formations. The explicit move to identify concrete aspects of the phenomenal world as inherently sacred entities occurred within the field of medieval combinatory religiosity, heavily influenced by esoteric Buddhism and the doctrines of original enlightenment. It is perhaps at this discursive level that the unification between the Buddhist notion of jinen honi and the natural world first took place. On the one hand, jinen honi, as the ultimate essence/substance of the world (synonymous with Tathata and Dharmadhatu/Dharmakaya), was envisioned in more concrete terms as the totality of the existing, including deities, humans, and the material environment. On the other hand, the totality of the existing was sacred as the material body of the universal Buddha (Mahavairocana as Dharma-body); according to the doctrines defining the local manifestations of the absolute (known as honji suijaku), the Dharma-body appears in Japan, in particular, as the local kami. We could summarize this complex process of manifestation of the absolute in the phenomenal world-and in a reverse direction, of sacralization of everyday reality-in the following way: individual essence (jisho) ----t unconditioned entity (jinen) ----t Dharma-body (hosshin) ----t Dharma Realm (hokkai) ----t this world ----t Japan ----t kami. This process can be reconstructed from indications contained in a number of medieval combinatory texts. The Ryobu honzei rishu makaen, an apocryphon attributed to Kukai but composed perhaps in the first half of the thirteenth century, explicitly says that "all grass and roots are kami" but grounds that statement on the esoteric features of the Sanskrit syllable A. 19 One of the central texts of premodern Buddhist teachings about the kami, the Reikiki, is more explicit about the all-pervasiveness of kami: colorful trees and all things before us are all bodies of the kami (shintai); the top and the foot of mountains are all kami shrines. Unconditioned and originally quiescent, they are identical, all pervading, luminous, and life nourishing; they arouse the thought of enlightenment. 20 The material environment of human beings is here explicitly indicated as constituting bodies of the kami, defined as unconditioned and part of a

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Buddhist process of salvation. A different chapter of the Reikiki proposes the following series of "equations": Dharma (dharma?) = kami, kami = Dharma, Dharma =monks, monks= Buddhas, Buddhas = humans, humans = kami, kami = supernatural powers, supernatural powers = worldly benefits. "Worldly benefits" means that all things are the Buddha-bodyY Here, all things are reduced to both the Dharma and the kami (perhaps exploiting the distinction-or lack thereof, as in the case of esoteric Buddhism and hongaku doctrines-between dharma as constituents of reality and Dharma as the underlying order of the universe) as part of the all-pervasive Buddha-body, which still seems to have an ontological primacy. Another text belonging to the same genre, the Ryogii gyomon jinshaku, says: "Plants and the territory are the original body (substance), mountains and rivers, water and fire are the original essence of the two shrines" of I se. 22 Although the emphasis of the text is on the I se Shrines, it is significant that Ise is presented as a microcosm condensing the entire material environment as its substance/essence. A similar process of reduction is presented by the Yamato Katsuragi Hozanki, in which everything is understood as a transformation of a sacred object, the jewel belonging to the original god, Ame no Minakanushi. This jewel is nevertheless envisioned as a variant shape of the vajra club, a ritual implement widely used in esoteric Buddhism: "heaven, earth, and humans; east-west-south-north; the sun, the moon and the stars; mountain, rivers, and plants are transformations of Ame no Totama-hoko, that is, the divine jewel of Ame no Minakanushi, a variant shape of the vajra club." 23 An even more explicit identification of a specific kami with the material world can be found in the Miwa Daimyojin engi, in which the Miwa deity is reported as saying: "plants and the territory are my body, my abode." Miwa Daimyojin also claims to embody both "becoming buddha in this very body" (sokushin jobutsu) and "plants become buddha" (somoku jobutsu) as explained by the Shingon and the Tendai schools. 24 In the course of the development of such a combinatory discourse, the kami gradually acquired primacy over the buddhas in what has been called "inversed honji suijaku" (shinpon butsujaku). The Tendai priest Sonshun (1451-1514), for example, explicitly advocated the primacy of kami over the buddhas, claiming that the kami belong to an ontological dimension

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preceding the distinction of yin and yang, thus to a primeval condition of wholeness he identifies with original enlightenment. Significantly, Sonshun envisions original enlightenment as the original condition before the appearance of the first Buddha. 25 This operation of ontological reversal was further exploited, with explicit anti-Buddhist purposes, by new Shinto lineages (Yoshida and others), Neo-Confucians, and Nativists. Yoshida Kanetomo (1435-I5rr) developed the pantheistic position of earlier Buddhist-Shinto texts. He wrote that "the realm of the inanimate objects and the realm of living beings, and both beings endowed with mind and beings without mind" are all part of what he called shinti5. He further explained: "shin(= kami) is the venerable ancestor of all things (banbutsu), the Way (do) is the source of all activities (mangyi5 )." 26 Confucian philosopher Hayashi Razan (1583-1657) elaborated on the idea of the all-pervasiveness of the divinities by transforming the kami from a material entity endowed with a shape (as in earlier Buddhist-Shinto treatises) into a formless (mushiki mugyi5) and generative (banbutsu no hajime, banbutsu no owari) principle (ri). This step was clearly prompted by Razan's reliance upon the ontology and cosmology of Chinese NeoConfucianism. 27 We may note that this is perhaps one of the sources of modern ideas about the kami as formless entities. Among the typical features of the intellectual history of the Edo period, we find several attempts to formulate a notion of kami on the basis of Neo-Confucian ideas of mind and "innate nature" (sei). 28 However, even when reformulated in this general way, the concept of kami was nonetheless identified with specific deities, which thus acquired cosmological meanings they did not necessarily have in the middle ages. 29 Yamaga Soko (r622-r685) made an explicit connection between spontaneity and the material environment when he said that nature (tenchi) is incessantly and spontaneously produced (jinen). 3 For Ito Jinsai, nature (tenchi) does not develop out of the activity of an abstract principle; it is intrinsically animated (katsubutsu) and thus incessantly being born and dying. 31 Another intellectual thread in the genealogy of modern Japanese ideas of nature is Nativism, in particular Kamo no Mabuchi's and Motoori Norinaga's emphasis on spontaneity of feeling and emotions and its relation with the natural and material world. Mabuchi spoke of the ideal life as one lived in accordance with the "heart of nature" (tenchi no kokoro). 32 Motoori argued that "feelings (nasake) arise spontaneously (jinen/onozukara)." 33

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Nativist interventions resulted in the elimination of the Buddhist grounds for the identification of the natural, material environment with an absolute entity-as we have seen, one of the main themes of medieval Buddhist discourses about the kami. In the early Meiji period, the new notion of "nature" (translated from modern Western philosophy) was incorporated within the conceptual paradigm of modern Japan as shizen. Since such incorporation occurred within a Nativist framework, nature was identified with kami. This operation perhaps constitutes the basis of modern Japanese ideas of "animism" and "love for nature" -essentially, a byproduct of cultural nationalism produced by a combination of erasure of the Buddhist intellectual tradition and absorption of Western notions. When this new hybrid paradigm became widely accepted, even by Buddhist intellectuals, everyone came to agree that a "primordial," "Shinto" love for nature lay at the basis of ancient and medieval Buddhist interventions, whereas in fact it is the opposite. The erasure of ancient and medieval Buddhist intellectual interventions laid the ground for newly created early modern and modern forms of Shinto primitivist animism stressing "love" for a "nature" envisioned as sacred. 34 In any case, the idea of a peculiarly Japanese love for nature, which was the result of a conflation of Kokugaku Nativism and Western Orientalism that occurred in the late Meiji period, played a significant role in the creation of a sense of national and cultural identity for the modern Japanese nation-state. Such appropriation of Orientalism in Nativistic terms was obviously very successful and produced one of the most enduring (albeit largely imaginary) features of Japanese culture. An early source of this discourse is Haga Yaichi with his Kokuminsei juron (Ten Theses on Japan's National Character), originally published in 1907. In Thesis Four ("Love for Plants and Trees, Enjoyment of Nature"), Haga wrote that the Japanese are directly connected to nature and that this attitude comes directly from nature itself, which in Japan is particularly benign. 35 Now, it is true that Japanese culture traditionally makes large use, practical and symbolic, of plants. Augustin Berque suggests that the symbolic emphasis on vegetation and its important aesthetic overtones may be explained paradoxically as a form of nostalgia for a lost nature, perhaps due to the cataclysmic transformations following the construction of large cities based on a Chinese model that began before the Nara period. Aristocratic themes, initially for the most part related to poetry, gradually penetrated through the rest of

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society and created a solid system of cultural images of nature. 36 However, Berque stresses that the Japanese sentiment toward nature has never ceased to evolve, and eventually, it came to be associated with national identity. The connection between nature and the sacred, underlying current interpretations of doctrines on the Buddhahood of plants, can be found in a different kind of mythological substratum. Berque writes: In Japan as in Europe exists a myth of the primordial forest, site of ancestral inquietudes but also nostalgia of nature that disappears. Differently from Europe, however, and for obvious reasons, this forest has joined the mythological constellation of attributes of Japaneseness; it plays, in fact, in the imagination of today's Japanese, the role of an originary matrix, grounding of national authenticity. This forest has a name: it is the coniferous forest (shin'yo jurin) that once covered the plains of most of the larger islands ... The basic idea is that such forest environment, that of Jomon prehistoric culture, was the cradle where Shintoism was born. 37 Geographically, almost nothing remains today of these primordial forests except only some I6,ooo hectares (o.o6% of Japanese forests). Symbolically, though, this tiny portion of forest is important because it is almost exclusively constituted by sacred trees (chinju no mori) surrounding Shinto shrines around Japan. 38 1t is easy, then, to create, in a sort of Eliadian move, a modern mythology of these forests as loci of the sacred and, by extension, as the original loci of Japanese civilization. It is in this sense that we can perhaps also understand the presence of sacred trees (shinboku) in many Shinto shrines in contemporary Japan. I believe it is essentially a modern phenomenon involving either trees planted by modern emperors (Meiji and Hirohito) or a rediscovery of certain trees that might serve the purpose to represent an "ancestral" Shinto animism centering on tree cults. Fragments (real or imagined) of the past are thus used as symbols of unbroken Japanese natural and cultural continuity to downplay or deny the extent of actual changes that occurred in the Japanese archipelago over the centuries. Ienaga Saburo attempted to overcome the problems posed by an oversimplified use of the term nature by introducing a distinction between an artificial nature mediated by art as in gardens and poetry and "real" nature as a sort of primary locus 39 ; however, this operation has some obvious limits. As semioticians Algirdas Greimas and Joseph Courtes explain, "nature can never be a sort of primary, originary given, preceding humankind, but

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is rather a nature already culturalized, informed by culture." 40 The natural world, which "presents itself to human beings as a vast ensemble of sensorial qualities and endowed with a determined organization," is in fact "a 'discursive' structure because it presents itself within the subject/object relationship as an 'utterance' constructed and decypherable by the human subject." 41 Accordingly, the "natural world ... should not be considered as a particular semiotics, but rather as the place where multiple semiotic systems are elaborated and rehearsed ... a vast semiotics of cultures." 42 Buddhist nature is no exception. As part and manifestation of universal substance, be it defined as Suchness or Dharma Realm, it is always textualized and thus culturalized. Natural elements even preach the Dharma, as emphasized in their respective ways by the Zen and Shingon traditions. Selected natural entities are related to religious awareness and practice, such as cherry blossoms envisioned as symbols of Buddhist impermanence, and the moon, which recalls the esoteric meditation technique known as "moon-disk visualization" (gachirinkan) 43 ; a tree with a bifurcated trunk can be envisioned as representing nondualism. 44 Finally, the sacralization of nature, carried out in various forms by medieval kenmitsu exegetes, far from being the result of pre-existing, autochthonous models, was part of the hegemonic project of dominant Buddhist institutions, as the following discussion will elucidate.

Trees, Kami, and Buddhism William LaFleur has suggested that Buddhist doctrines on plants becoming buddhas were related to pre-Buddhist Japanese ideas according to which nature was "a locus of soteriological value," 45 but in fact, the relations between Buddhist doctrines on the salvation of plants and the Shinto tradition are not clear. It is possible that medieval Buddhist authors were trying to reformulate pre-existing folk ideas to make Buddhism more directly relevant to, and in tune with, popular conceptions. However, it is doubtful that such popular conceptions can be reduced to an underlying and unchanging layer of "Shinto" beliefs, as many scholars propose. In addition, Buddhist popular discourses on nature never refer in any explicit way to pre-Buddhist folk ideas. This is an important fact to emphasize, given that these texts were written by people deeply steeped in honji suijaku religiosity, which conceived of local deities (kami, myojin) as manifestations

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of buddhas, bodhisattvas, and other figures of the Buddhist pantheon. 46 Although it was normal practice for the authors to interpret Japanese myths and ancient legends in terms of Indian and Buddhist mythology, they never did that when they addressed the doctrines on the Buddhahood of plants. Ancient Japanese texts contain many references to trees in a religious context. Trees (or at least, some trees) were described either as abodes of the kami or as deities themselves. 47 Matsuoka Seigo has noted that the kami manifested themselves in the trees and forests as sound. 48 Trees were thus treated as receivers of messages and beings from the world of the deities. The receptacles of the kami (yorishiro) included sacred trees, called shinboku or himorogi, rock cairns (iwasaka), and various ritual implements known as torimono. In this respect, it is important to emphasize that trees were considered sacred as abodes of the kami and very rarely deemed to be kami themselves. The Katai jingu gishikicho, a document of the ninth century, lists the materials of the "bodies of the kami" (goshintai) in the main shrines of Japan at the time. Among them, twenty-seven were stones, five were mirrors, and one was water. Sixteen shrines in the list had no body of the kami. 49 At this point, a discussion of the material form of the kami, in particular trees, is in order. In most modern books on Shinto, there is a fundamental ambiguity concerning the body of the kami. Kami are described alternatively as material objects such as stones and trees or as immaterial entities abiding more or less temporarily in those material objects. Kageyama Haruki is the scholar who studied most extensively the shape of the kami, but his interpretations are not without problems. According to Kageyama, the kami were originally "symbolic, formless beings" abiding in certain rocks and trees. For Kageyama, this animistic attitude constitutes the primordial form of Shinto, which he calls "natural Shinto" (shizen shinto ). Later, under the influence of Buddhism, kami turned into "beings endowed with forms and images"; Shinto even became a sort of "idolatry" (guzo suhai) when human forms were attributed to the deities. 50 Two major assumptions lay at the ground of Kageyama's interpretation: the belief in the existence of a "natural religion" spontaneously arising among primitive people and worshiping natural objects and the idea that Shinto has always been a uniform entity that can easily be defined by a few formulas. Furthermore, Kageyama believes that there existed in "primordial Shinto" a primary distinction between spirit and form (kokoro

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to katachi). However, I think this distinction became possible only after the arrival to Japan of Buddhism with its practice of creating religious images as embodiments of the sacred. Kageyama writes that in the case of honji suijaku representations, their "form is that of a buddha image but their spirit is a sacred tree." 51 In this sentence, the term "spirit," glossed by Kageyama in hiragana as kokoro, is written by the characters for hontai, which indicate not a spiritual entity but the very substance out of which the image is made. This fundamental confusion (again, a case of fluctuation between animate and inanimate) complicates Kageyama's argument: Are kami formless or do they have a material form? In fact, there is a distinction between a kami whose "body" is a certain rock or tree and formless kami who abide temporarily in specific material supports (yorishiro). In other words, a particular sacred tree can be envisioned either as the kami itself or as a material support for the kami's presence. In this sense, representations of kami were not intrinsically different from buddha images in general. As we saw in Chapter 2, a Buddhist statue was envisioned not just as a mere "symbol" of an abstract and formless Buddha-nature but rather as a real presence of Buddha in this world. 52 In my view, sacred trees functioning as material supports of honji suijaku representations were not the spirit of buddha images but, literally and obviously, their material. 53 This is particularly evident in the case of buddha images sculpted directly in living trees-or in any case, clearly displaying the raw tree material out of which they are made-known as tachikibutsu (also tachigibutsu) and natabori. This peculiar form of Buddhist sculpture began in the early Heian period, but the most famous images were made in the seventeenth century by Enku (r632-r695). 54 Inoue Tadashi has argued that tachikibutsu, representing a divine entity inhabiting a tree, is a Buddhist mode of representation of the sacred that derives from buddha images sculpted in rocks on mountainsides (magaibutsu). 55 Tachikibutsu were considered images that appeared to ascetics as a result of their spiritual practices (kantoku) in a process that later became one of the sources of so-called secret buddhas (hibutsu). 56 Legends give great importance to the role of Gyoki in spreading buddha images made out of miraculous trees. 57 In the context of the present discussion, it is interesting to mention a hypothesis first formulated by Oka Naomi, according to which the oldest buddha images were originally representations of the kami-in particular, representations/embodiments of ancestral deities (ujigami) made by

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powerful local clans. 58 The kami claimed to be suffering in their existence, so Buddhist priests made Buddhist images for the kami's salvation. 59 Perhaps, sculptures can thus be interpreted as receptacles of the local deities; Oka writes of "buddha images as the body of the kami (shintai)." 60 Inoue Tadashi modifies this hypothesis in the following way. He argues that Buddhist sculptors collected miraculous trees (e.g., trees that had been struck by lightning or that showed peculiar shapes), at the time believed to be the abodes of kami, and turned them into Buddhist deities. However, sculptors took care to leave some portions of the statue in a raw state to indicate its underlying substance, the very materiality of the deity, which was none other than the tree worshiped until then. In this way, by creating a buddha image, the sculptors were in fact giving shape to the kami, until then mostly formless. Thus, Buddhists were able to show the spiritual content of yorishiro receptacles as a Buddha. 61 In this process, it is important to remember that in ancient times it was forbidden to cut sacred trees. 62 Buddhists were able to break this taboo and lay their hands on the source of the sacred, which enabled them to display their technological and symbolic superiority. Japanese Buddhism associated certain local deities with buddhas and bodhisattvas (honji suijaku doctrines and practices) and also expressed this principle at the level of the material employed for their representations. Sacred trees from the territory owned by the kami protecting a Buddhist temple (i.e., himorogi or shinboku) were used to make buddha images that were envisioned as real presences of the Buddha in this world. As a sacred tree turned into a buddha image, the kami that was supposed to abide in the tree also became a buddha. However, as we saw in Chapter 2, Buddhist exegetes stressed that buddha images were not mere simulacra, receptacles of the sacred, but presences-animated icons, living buddhas-in an attempt to eliminate any distinction between material and spiritual. As the sculptor of buddha images Matsushita Horin said, "Buddha is already inside the tree. I simply help to show the shape of Buddha's heart." 63 In the same way, premodern Buddhist exegetes and sculptors wanted to turn kami into buddhas, not buddhas into kami-an operation attempted instead by some medieval Shinto theorists. 64 In short, it appears that the spirit-matter distinction developed with the production of sacred images under the influence of Buddhism, and it is therefore not an original Japanese concern regarding the primordial status of the kami. Furthermore, as we have seen,

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such an ontological distinction could be reformulated as dealing with the primacy of buddhas or of the kami-primacy that also had political implications. It is not surprising, then, that issues of representation were particularly important among doctrinal discussions in premodern Japan because they concerned not only the status of the sacred and its manifestations but also the role of the religious institutions that controlled them. The manifestation of the sacred was related to the capacity to interpret the universe and foresee events. Often, trees also functioned as vehicles for omens from the invisible world of the deities. The supernatural vocabulary with which trees announced to humans their messages from the invisible included strange shapes, strong vital signs, and examples of destruction. For example, when trees located in the sacred precincts of a temple or shrine grew mysteriously fast, showed a peculiar shape, or died (by falling to the ground, withering, or catching on fire), divination was performed to ascertain the meaning of the event. A typical phenomenon, quite common among cedars (sugi), was the so-called renri ("intertwining"), in which trunks or branches of neighboring trees intertwined. This phenomenon, considered auspicious by Onmyodo doctrines, was reported several times beginning with the Nihon shokiY Such aberrations were also sometimes interpreted as negative omens indicating the possibility of serious disasters in the human and natural realms (diseases, natural calamities, war, and the death of important people). 66 Murayama Shiiichi notes that omens in general, and arboreal ones in particular, increased dramatically during the Heian period, perhaps due to the growing influence of Onmyodo. 67 This fact is very interesting because it indicates that many elements of popular discourses on the sacredness of trees might not date back to a primordial time as an originally Japanese phenomenon, as many authors believe. On the contrary, premedieval ideas on the sacredness of trees were often borrowings from Chinese and other continental cultures that were subsequently adapted to native perspectives. In addition to their uses in divination, trees or parts of trees such as branches and leaves often functioned as mediators with the realm of the deities. As noted by Orikuchi Shinobu, the sakaki tree is used in the flower festival (Hana matsuri) of Oku Mikawa to facilitate communication between human beings and deities and between deities and ghosts. Here, demons (ani) begin to talk when they are beaten with sakaki branches. 68 This ritual echoes a famous scene in the Nihon shoki, when Amaterasu had hidden in

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a cavern. The gods brought in an eradicated sakaki tree and hung several ritual objects on it. Ame no Koyane and Futodama prayed, and Ame no Uzume put sakaki branches on her head as a wig, entered into a trance, and danced. At that point, Amaterasu moved the rock that sealed the entrance to the cavern to look at the commotion outside, and light returned to the world. 69 The sakaki tree is also used to make ritual implements for kami worship; it is one of the objects in which the kami descends (yorishiro) and at the same time one of the offerings to the kami. Particularly famous is the sacred tree (goshinboku) of the Kasuga Shrine, used in medieval Japan by the Kasuga jinin militias during their demonstrations (goso)? 0 Orikuchi wrote that the spirit of the kami of Kasuga is the spirit of the sakaki tree. Yet, as Murayama Shiiichi argues, this idea probably arose only after the primitive concept of sakaki was used to refer to a particular kind of tree (previously, sakaki does not seem to have referred to any specific tree but to trees endowed with sacred functions in general). Subsequently, with the formation of social structures controlling mountain forests, myths concerning the divine creation of trees developed. 71 In the Nihon shoki, the god of trees is called Kukunochi, a word that was probably used to refer to the sakaki tree. The text also tells of Itsutakeru, who descended from heaven in the land of Kii and sowed the seeds of trees in the Japanese archipelago, turning it into a verdant mountain. The trees, however, were created by Itsutakeru's father, the ambiguous and dangerous Susanoo. According to the myth, Susanoo's beard became cedars (sugi), the hair of his chest became cypress (hinoki), his eyebrows became camphor trees (kusu), and the hair from his buttocks became black pines (maki). Susanoo further decided the uses of these trees; thus, cedars and camphor wood were destined to build boats, cypresses were used to build the king's residence, and black pines were for coffins. Susanoo's children, Itsutakeru, Oyatsuhime, and Tsumatsume, sowed the seeds of trees and were worshiped in the land of Kii. 72 In the Kojiki and the Nihon shoki, legends concerning tree deities are almost exclusively from the land of Kii, perhaps because, as Murayama suggests, that vast forest region was close to the center of Yamato power. 73 In any case, the land of Kii became the paradigmatic land of trees. The central deity of the main shrine (Hongu) in the Kumano complex, Ketsumiko, is an arboreal deity. Its name literally means "god son of trees" (ketsu is an ancient genitive form of ki, "tree"), although it is not clear what kind of tree-god this deity is?4

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These myths and ritual practices do not tell the whole story about the role of trees and nature in general according to the mentalities of the ancient inhabitants of Japan. In pre-Buddhist mythological accounts, nature was often presented as a negative entity, the realm of hostile and uncontrollable powers. The Hitachi no kuni fudoki (713), for example, describes the original condition of the world as chaos, lack of order. The world was dominated by violent deities (araburu-gami), and the main sign of chaos was the fact that "rocks and trees and the grass could speak." 75 Such an abnormal condition ceased only with the imposition of cultural order that tamed violent deities and brought the vegetal world under control?6 Ancient stories about giant trees are also manifestations of this attitude. For example, a well-known legend says that in 0-mi Province, there was a giant tree so tall that its shadow covered Tanba Province in the morning and Ise Province in the evening. Farmers were annoyed because this large shadow hindered the development of agriculture. They asked the emperor for help, and the emperor authorized the felling of the tree; as a consequence, the land finally became fertile. 77 In this respect, it is worth noting that until the early Meiji period, large trees were considered a nuisance and were logged to clear land for agriculture. Ancient texts often describe giant trees as "enemies of the sovereign" or, in general, as causes of disease and disorder. Their felling, under the ruler's authorization, amounted to an act of cosmic and social ordering by the ancient Yamato State. Such acts of ordering also involved the appropriation of local deities by Yamato powers and, at the same time, a process of desacralization. 78 Whereas ancient texts emphasize the negative aspects of nature, Buddhist doctrines on inanimate objects stress the absolute, and therefore positive, value of natural phenomena as part of absolute reality, be it conceived of as Suchness in the case of the Tendai school or as the absolute Buddhabody in the case of Shingon. According to these doctrines, natural entities do speak, but they do so to preach the True Dharma. I do not know whether Shingon and Tendai exegetes had read the Fudoki (most probably, they had not), but it is obvious that Buddhist doctrines on plants becoming buddhas (and the related conceptions about nature and the inanimate world) were not a reformulation in Buddhist terms of pre-existing Shin to beliefs. On the contrary, they constituted a radical departure from pre-Buddhist ideas and practices. The chaotic world in which plants speak, described in the Fudoki, turned out to be the absolute and unconditioned Reality of enlightenment,

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in which plants spoke the absolute Dharma? 9 Furthermore, whereas traditionallocal cults only recognized the sacredness of specific natural objects, esoteric Buddhism, as we have seen, emphasized the holiness (potentially, at least) of the entire universe as the sublime but material body of the cosmic Buddha. As mentioned earlier, the idea that everything is a kami appears to have developed in medieval Japan within honji suijaku and, specifically, in Ryobu Shinto texts. The conceptual transformation of nature and inanimate objects in general that I have discussed so far was not unrelated to the social structure of the early Yamato State, its visions of the sacred, and subsequent struggles between Buddhist religious institutions and local ("Shinto") ceremonial centers-struggles that in turn reflected antagonisms between central state institutions and local organizations. Hayashiya Tatsusaburo has indicated that since the third century, with the formation of a "small state" (shokokka) in northern Kyushu, forests acquired symbolic importance as the sites of nature deities controlled by priests (hori) and shamanesses (miko); the cult of these deities was tied up with the preservation of the social and political order. These ancient religious specialists resided in "shrines" (yashiro, written with a character also read mori, a word also meaning "forest") until the eighth century. Forests mostly covered mountains, and this would explain the continuity in the sacred dimension between trees and mountains. The same attitude continued with the formation of the Yamato State, which was marked by two important areas: Mt. Miwa to the east and Mt. Katsuragi to the west. 80 The existence of these tree cults is indicated by expressions from the Man'yoshu such as "the cryptomeria revered by the priest of Miwa" or "the sacred forest." 81 Hayashiya also points to the continuity between such ancient shrines and kofun tumuli as both were covered with trees; thus, both were probably envisioned as abodes of the kami. With the arrival of Buddhism, trees began to be processed and made into buildings and, I would add, into sacred images. 82 With the expansion of state and individual support to Buddhist institutions, there was a dramatic increase in the number of temples and Buddhist halls throughout Japan. The increasing complexity of the new state administration also required new buildings. The construction of these edifices, and of relevant icons, ritual implements, and so forth, required an enormous amount of building material, mostly wood. More important, the construction of Buddhist temples as symbols of the new State's power (and more generally, of central institutions and culture) generated tension in the

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provinces by threatening local autonomy, traditional customs, and social order. It is in this context of cultural change that we must interpret ancient and medieval legends about trees. Buddhism followed the same pattern that the Yamato rulers had used to establish their hegemony as described in ancient records. Buddhism desacralized local religious symbols and then appropriated them as Buddhist entities. Trees played an essential role in this process. In many cases, miraculous stories about trees are related to the construction of temples and buddha images. Legends on the first Buddhist statues made in Japan tell us they were made out of a camphor tree that had come floating over the sea emitting light and music. 83 Camphor wood, originally created by Susanoo, was used to build boats and koto-like musical instruments that were used primarily in divination and as symbols of power. 84 Other stories tell of trees speaking, crying, or producing other miraculous signs-trees also used as materials for Buddhist statues. 85 A common topos in medieval narratives involves deities who appear in dreams to holy men and indicate particular trees to be used as materials for sculptures. These trees were usually considered "sacred" because of their peculiar shape, their old age, or strange phenomena believed to occur near them, such as mysterious voices or lights. For example, one day, a priest appeared in a dream to the wandering ascetic Gyoen (active 1004-1010; also known as Kawa Shonin because of the animal fur he used to wear) and suggested that he use the wood of a very old zelkova tree (tsuki) lying on the ground near Lower Kamo Shrine to make a Buddhist icon. 86 In 1005, Gyoen used part of the tree to make an image of Kannon, which he placed in the Gyoganji (Kodo Kannon). Later, Kobo Daishi (Kukai) used the remaining wood to make another image, which he placed in the Ryobuji. In addition, the tree itself had been a central element in the origin myths of the deities of the Kamo shrines. 87 In the complex narrative about the origin of the shrine, the zelkova tree had grown miraculously out of rice seeds and then became the catalyst for the manifestation of a kami in the place in which Lower Kamo Shrine was subsequently built. Later, Buddhism took that tree and used it to make buddha images-that is, animate, real presences of the Buddha in this world. In other words, the development of honji suijaku doctrines and practices also consisted in the appropriation of sacred materials, in both senses as raw construction materials and as narrative/mythological elements. Buddhist texts also contain different descriptions of the relationships among kami, trees, and buddha images. For example, the Koryuji raiyuki

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tells the following story. The wood of an old sacred tree was used to make a statue of the Buddha Yakushi that was placed in the sanctuary of Muko Myojin at Otokuni in Yamashiro Province. Over time, the statue showed several signs of its miraculous power. During the reign of Emperor Ninmyo (8ro-8so), it was enshrined in the Gantokuji temple in Nishiyama. One day in 864, Emperor Seiwa (8so-88o, r. 858-876) became ill. He ordered the priest Dosho (798-875) to move the image from Gantokuji to Koryuji in Uzumasa and use it to perform healing rituals. At that point, Muko Myojin, the deity of Otokuni district, moved to Uzumasa as well, establishing its abode in a zelkova tree inside the temple precinct. When the kami moved into it, the tree at first withered, which is why the shrine built there was called Kogare Myojin-sha (kogare meaning "withered tree"), but it later recovered. 88 In this story, a deity moves to a tree to be exposed to Buddhism and causes temporary damage to that tree. It may be noted in passing that the successful manipulation of Yakushi's sacred image and the related control over the power that accrued to it through its material relationship with kami resulted in a successful ecclesiastical career for Dosho. The medieval Tendai encyclopedia Asabasho reports that the trunk of the giant tree in Omi Province mentioned earlier, whose shadow extended for several hundred miles, was divided into three parts after the tree was cut upon imperial authorization. The logs were floated away on a river, and wherever they were stranded, an epidemic broke out. Eventually, the emperor ordered that they be used to make three statues of Kannon. One was enshrined in Shigadera in Omi Province, another in the Gorinji in Kawachi Province, and the third was made into the eleven-headed Kannon of Hasedera near Nara. 89 Here again, we see the ordering intervention of Buddhism, which eliminated the calamities caused by dangerous local sacred entities. At the same time, Buddhists showed materially (and dramatically) the intrinsic Buddha-nature of such dangerous entities. In our example, a tree endowed with threatening supernatural power is felled. Its remains cause diseases, but when turned into icons of Kannon, they show their compassionate and positive force. On a deeper level, it is not difficult to read in the story a narrative of Buddhist conquest of local resources by creating revised and contrasting images of the sacred. It is possible that local clans responsible for the ceremonial apparatus of the ancient regime circulated legends about tree-spirit curses as statements against Buddhism and the new state organization. For example,

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Emperor Kotoku (596-654) is accused in the Nihon shoki of "venerating Buddhism and belittling the kami" because he allowed trees to be cut at the Ikukunitama sacred ground. Even though the emperor did not suffer any curses, the strong criticism he received is a clear indication of resistance in court circles to pro-Buddhist policies. 90 A very different fate befell Empress Saimei (594-661). When she cut trees from Asakura Shrine in northern Kyushu to build a temporary residence during a military campaign against Silla, the local kami became angry and destroyed the palace. An epidemic burst out in the area, killing a prince and several members of the imperial staff; in the end, even the empress died from the same epidemic. 91 Documents also tell of temples that were moved to different locations because of the hostility of the kami residing in neighboring shrines. Such was the case of Kudara odera, originally built by Shotoku Taishi (574-622). When the temple was moved to Toichi, the kami from neighboring Kobe Shrine was said to have provoked several fires in the compound until Emperor Tenmu (d. 686) moved the temple to Takechi and called it Takechi Daikanji. This temple was later moved again to Heijokyo (present-day Nara) and renamed Daianji. 92 It is easy to read in this tale the hostility of local clans toward a temple established by the central government and also closely related to immigrant communities, as the original name of the temple, Kudara odera ("Great Temple of Paekche"), suggests. In general, however, narratives relate Buddhism's success in assimilating and controlling the deities of the lands from which the trees used for temple construction were taken. The following are two typical stories. At the time of the construction of the Gangoji in Asuka, during the reign of Empress Suiko (554-628), a woodcutter died while trying to fell an old zelkova tree in the place where the temple was going to be built. His replacement died as well, and no one wanted to go near the tree anymore. On a rainy night, a monk who was investigating the matter, wearing the rain hat and clothing of a traveler casually seeking shelter from the rain, hid inside the hollow of the trunk. At midnight, he could hear a voice within it lamenting: "Until now I have killed one after another the men who came to cut me, but sooner or later they will succeed." The voice added: "If they encircle me with a linen rope and read Nakatomi's formula (Nakatomi no saimon)/ 3 and an ascetic puts a black rope around me, they will be able to cut me and there will be nothing I could do-alas!" The monk, rejoicing, reported everything to the court. The court ordered that the tree be encircled with a linen

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rope, rice grains spread all around, offerings brought, and the Nakatomi purification formula read. An ascetic placed a black rope around the tree and cut it. This time, no one died. When the tree fell, five or six birds that looked like pheasant flew out of the branches toward the southern mountains. The emperor, saddened by the fate of the birds, had a shrine built for them south of the Ryiikaiji temple. 94 In this narrative, a monk adopts a ruse to glean the secret of the tree and then uses the secret to cut it down. But the tree was aware that it would not survive and that the construction of the temple was unavoidable-a recognition of the inevitability of Buddhism's triumph in Japan. 95 What is interesting is that typical "Shinto" liturgical devices (shimenawa ropes, Nakatomi's formula, etc.) are used to cut a tree for the purpose of establishing a Buddhist temple-a further indication of the complex relationships between Buddhist institutions and local cults. The second story is even more explicit about this sort of institutional interaction. In 827, an illness of Emperor Junna (786-840) was explained through divination as the consequence of a curse by the deity Inari because the trees in its land had been cut for the construction of the Toji temple. The curse was neutralized in a brilliant way: Inari was made the protector of the Toji. 96 The temple now had nothing to fear from the local deity, and Inari's shrine was now related to the most important temple of the powerful Shingon sect, so that there would be no shortage of worship and offerings to it. Furthermore, sources tell us of buddhas and other Buddhist deities manifesting themselves on trees-perhaps, a distant echo of Indian pre-Buddhist religiosity. The Ishiyamadera engi reports that the priest Rocho, reborn as a demonlike figure (yak~a) to protect Buddhism, appeared to the priest Gyoen on the top of an old pine tree (Figure 4.1). 97 On a different thread, the

Kakuzensho states that during the Tang period, Chinese painters adopted as their protectors images of fifty-two buddhas and bodhisattvas that had manifested themselves on a tree. 98 At this point, it should be clear that usual interpretations taking Buddhist doctrines about trees to be consequences of pre-existing Shinto ideas need to be revised. In fact, it is likely that Buddhism gave importance to trees as sacred entities. This was done for two different but related reasons: to sacralize Buddhist statues and sacred places and to turn kami into buddhas (literally and materially as well). The appropriation of trees as emblems of local deities signified the control of Buddhist institutions over the sacred,

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F r G u RE 4. r. Priest Rocho appears to priest Gyoen on the top of a pine tree in his reincarnation as a demonic protector of the Dharma (yak~a) SOURCE: From Ishiyamadera engi, property of Ishiyamadera (Nihon emaki taisei 18: 78 . Tokyo: Chiio koronsha, I977-1979). Courtesy of Ishiyamadera and Chiio koronsha.

according to a process that began in India. The subjugation of local deities by buddhas and bodhisattvas was actively and ritually displayed through the felling of trees taken to be "sacred." Local ceremonial centers probably used the same rhetoric to assess their role as protectors of the new religious institutions. But the stories cited earlier also suggest that the kami's reactions to Buddhism were indications of tensions within the religious and political world of the time. Trees were often loci of deeper and more complex cultural issues. They tell us a fragmentary history of struggle and resistance against a centralized power, either political (the imperial court) or religious (Buddhist institutions). 99

Suwa Shrine's Onbashira Ritual and the Transformation of Nature A particularly interesting example of popular, traditional attitudes concerning trees, which developed within the framework of the interactions between Buddhism and local beliefs, is the ritual known as Onbashira ("divine

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pillar"), performed every seven years at Suwa Shrine in central Japan. This ritual presents analogies with the periodic reconstruction of shrines such as Ise, Sumiyoshi, Kashima, and Katori that takes place every twenty years. Records concerning Suwa date back to the early Heian period, when Emperor Kanmu (737-806) ordered pillars built for the shrine-temple complex, but the way this ancient event is related to today's ritual is not clear. 100 In the ritual, selected trees are marked with a sacred rope (shimenawa) and labeled to indicate their specific function at the shrine. The trees are cut with consecrated tools and following strict ritual procedures over a period of seven days at the beginning of the year in which the rite is performed. After a few months, participants in the ritual take the trees that have thus been felled, each weighing more than ten tons, from the mountain to the village (the yamadashi phase, now carried out at the Upper Shrine over three days at the beginning of April) and then up again to the shrine (satobiki, over three days at the beginning of May). 101 The transportation of the huge trunks is the pretext for a spectacular and dangerous ritual traditionally led by the tree cutters' guild (yamatsukuri), which is now an important tourist attraction in the area. People sit on the trees while they are thrown down the mountain. The trees are then pulled across a river and up a slope to the village and from there dragged to the shrine. At that point, the trees are hauled upright with ropes, and the most intrepid participants in the ritual remain standing on the rising trunks for as long as they can. Finally, the trunks are placed at the four corners of the main building of each shrine as powerful markers of the sacredness of the place. 102 The meaning of this rite is complex and has changed significantly throughout history. The explanation given today is that the ritual brings to the village the god of the mountain, who is believed to abide in the trees that have been cut. The god bestows its blessing and protection on the tree cutters and the villagers. The trees are presented, in Shinto fashion, as mere receptacles (yorishiro) of the kami. Medieval documents, however, offer a very different and much richer picture. A late Muromachi text describes the four pillars as embodiments of bodhisattvas venerated in the area-namely, Fugen, Monju, Kannon, and Miroku. 103 Fugen in particular was the original form (honji) of the kami worshiped at the Jingiiji, an important temple complex that controlled the Suwa Shrine and was destroyed during the antiBuddhist persecutions of the early Meiji era. 104 In addition, the onbashira

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pillars were identified with the single-pronged vajra (dokko), an important ritual implement of esoteric Buddhism that functioned as a destroyer of demons and protector of Buddhists. 105 In premodern times, various explanations were proposed concerning the meaning of the Suwa pillars. Miyachi Naokazu has offered a systematic summary. The pillars have been interpreted as cosmological markers of the four directions, as protectors against meteorological disasters, as the sublime body of Suwa Myojin (the deity worshiped at the Suwa Shrine), as markers of the sacred space of Suwa Myojin and his shrine, and as offerings to the kami. 106 These interpretations are not mutually exclusive. As embodiments of the sacred according to the principles of honji suijaku religiosity (principles that have been forgotten today), the pillars were local manifestations of the four protecting bodhisattvas of the region; therefore, they were not just receptacles but living presences. They marked the sacred space of the shrine-temple at the center of its religious landholdings and ensured protection as well to the tree cutters (in a sort of Tantric reversal in which the tree extends protection to those who hurt it) and to the villagers at large. In addition, Miyasaka Yiisho has argued convincingly that the Upper Suwa-Lower Suwa shrine-temple complex was structured on the basis of the twofold mandala of the Shingon tradition-an overall cosmological outlook that also affected the onbashira ritual. 107 What is particularly significant, however, is an issue that has been largely ignored by scholarship: the semiotic status of the pillars. The space of the kami-bodhisattvas is expressed not by purely "natural" trees but by trees that have been subjected to human labor of various kinds: ceremonial (ritual), semiotic (interpretation), and manual (cutting, transportation, setting, etc.). In other words, the Suwa onbashira ritual constitutes a sophisticated intermediary stage in a theory of representation of the sacred, a stage between ancient beliefs in kami abodes (himorogi and yorishiro) and later iconic objects (buddha- and kami-images), or put in a different way, between sacred trees and sacred images. In this sense, the Suwa ritual centering on trees, far from being the manifestation of a simple ancestral belief, puts on stage, as it were, important themes of representation of the sacred as well as issues of power relations and social order in the region where it takes place. Trees are more than simple sacred objects; they are complex intellectual tools.

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Against Tree Cutting: Environmentalism, Religion, and Ideology The dialogue between religion, economics, and power is particularly evident in medieval and early modern prohibitions against tree cutting on land belonging to Buddhist temples. These prohibitions are usually offered as examples of the environmental concerns of Japanese religious institutions. Yet, a critical approach to this issue will yield very different results as to the motivations behind temple and shrine politics. As we saw in Chapter I, both Tendai and Shingon exegetes made it clear that it is not a sin to cut a tree, even despite its essentially animated nature and intrinsic Buddhahood. Dohan and, later, In'yii, for example, explained that nonsentients exist to be used by sentients, and inanimate objects in particular are originally destined to give support and nourishment to human beings. How can we explain, then, the prohibition against cutting trees so common in medieval Japan? An answer can be found in the analysis of a number of test cases. We will see that often the idea of the sacredness of trees was an elite formation diffused by religious institutions in the attempt to consolidate their presence at the local level and to limit the independent economic activities of villagers. Indeed, in contrast to doctrinal positions on the sacredness of trees, it appears that villagers did not believe trees were sacred. Several documents dating from around the mid-twelfth century report that mountain areas covered with forests, known as kuroyama (lit., "black mountain," undeveloped mountain slopes), were being increasingly reclaimed for agricultural purposes; trees were cut, the resulting land was appropriated, and the soil was tilled. Often, temples were built on the slopes of mountains that were thus deforested. A typical case is that of priest Kyiian Tankei from Kii Province, who in II45 established the Mikawa landholding by reclaiming previously uncultivated land. At the same time, near the top of a mountain whose trees had been cleared, he built a temple, the Ganjoji, which owned the newly reclaimed land. 108 Until that point, forest mountain areas were left unspoiled, perhaps because of taboos concerning a territory that was supposed to belong to the deities. However, it should be noted that between the fourth and seventh centuries, there apparently existed professionals who ventured in the mountains to cut trees to use them as construction materiai.l 09

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During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, new agricultural areas began to be developed in heavily forested mountain regions; Buddhist temples were located in many of these areas. Trees were cut and new lands were cleared for agriculture. When it was technically and financially impossible to create new paddy fields for rice cultivation, other crops were introduced, such as chestnut and mulberry, soybeans, and wheat. The main agents of this development were soldiers (who later joined the ranks of the Kamakura Bafuku as gokenin), mid- and low-ranking aristocrats, and even priests from large religious institutions in Nara and Kyoto. Such new economic activities resulted in strong contrasts between Buddhist temples, many of which were located in the mountains and surrounded by forests, and local residents with a direct stake in developing new agriculturallandsY 0 Documentary sources illustrate these competing interests. In rro4 (Choji 1), the Komyosanji, an important temple in Yamashiro Province, addressed a petition to the Great Minister of the Right Fujiwara no Tadazane. The priests lamented that all the trees along the access path to the temple, planted to provide "cool shade in the summer" and to "protect people from the wind in the cold winters," were regularly cut and burned each spring by nearby residents to gain new lands for agriculture. The fires were threatening the temple buildings and the monks' residences. 111 In 1rr7 (Eikyii 5), the temple was finally declared a "votive site" (gokiganjo) of the regent (kanpaku). Its land boundaries were clearly defined, and inside the sacred land, it was forbidden to "cut trees and to hunt." 112 In rr68 (Nin'an 3), the Kinzanji in Bizen Province (present-day Okayama Prefecture) lamented that provincial officers and local residents were systematically cutting trees inside its territory to the point that only a few trees surrounding the temple buildings remained. The monks requested that such practices be prohibited as a way to promote Buddhism and secure worldly and spiritual benefits. Trees, they claimed, were "ornaments of the buddhas and the deities" (butsuda shogon, shinmei genshoku no ryo). 113 In 1214 (Kenpo 2), the territory of the temple was demarcated as inviolable, and the Kamakura government issued a prohibition against hunting and cutting trees inside itY 4 The Kinzanji was not the only temple to argue that trees were divine ornaments. At about the same time, the Kongoji in Kawachi Province was emphasizing the same point, also adding that trees are to the mountains what intelligence is to human beings.U 5 The Koboji in Bizen Province, the

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Daisanji in Harima Province, and the Tokugen'in in Omi Province were all using the same metaphor in different words. It is interesting to note that here the notion of "ornament" was more complex than we may think today. As suggested by the priests of the Kongoji in their metaphorical association of trees with intelligence, trees were an essential component of sacred space, the embodiments of its essence. It is possible to read here an echo of Shingon doctrines on inanimate objects being part of the mandala and therefore endowed with the wisdom of Mahavairocana, complex doctrines that in any case could not have fully been used in an official document. We can detect, however, an interesting circulation between elite philosophical speculations and more practical concerns, between philosophical and bureaucratic discourses. In 1273 (Bun'ei w), the Saimyoji in Omi Province addressed a petition to the administrative offices (mandokoro) of the regent's household lamenting that residents of the villages situated at the foot of the mountain had recently begun to cut sacred trees (reiboku). Monks had tried to stop them to no avail. Even worse, fires set by tree cutters had already burned several temple buildings. The temple priests warned that deforestation would reduce the natural fire-resisting capacity of the forest. As a consequence, the temple clearly demarcated its territory and enforced a ban against killing sentient beings and cutting sacred trees within its boundaries. 116 Particularly well known is a conflict over the use of forest resources that arose in r 229, pitting the Katsuoji temple in Minoo against the residents of nearby villages. 117 The priests (shuto) of the Katsuoji suddenly decided to prohibit the residents of nearby Sugano village and Toyoshima pasture from entering the mountain area around the temple for the purpose of cutting trees. As a preventive measure, the priests confiscated the villagers' sickles and hatchets. The villagers reacted by writing petitions in which they strongly objected to the priests' decisions. They contested the new boundary line, which, according to them, included lands that had been for public use. The following year, however, the temple clearly demarcated its land possessions by placing signposts on the boundaries. These signposts were placed on mounds containing statues of the eight heavenly generals-apotropaic images that were obviously in charge of the protection of the temple's territorial integrity. In the meantime, the temple had addressed a petition to the Great Ministry of State (Daijokan) asking for support. In the document, the temple stressed its long history of imperial support and explained that its territorial arrangements were made to protect its sacred land (kekkai)

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from the assaults of Mara, the king of demons in the Buddhist tradition. The temple denounced the residents living at the foot of the mountain and "bandits from the whole region" who had recently begun to trespass within the temple's boundaries to kill animals and cut trees. It concluded by asking for government support on the basis of the weakness of the priests and their inability to protect their territory. 118 Another contemporary document, the Reimuki, written by the temple's priest Junko, described acts of violence against the monks and scenes of desolation at the mountain, many areas of which had been deforested. 119 From the extant sources, it appears that people in the area had been free to hunt animals and cut trees near the temple for a long time. The boundaries of the temple's land were not well defined, and people did not feel any particular religious remorse against cutting trees or killing animals. The priests became concerned when tree cutting began to occur very near the temple buildings. In part, they may have been worried about the preservation of the beauty and the character of the place as a matter of symbolic capital; a temple in a deforested area would not have been a very appealing sight. In fact, signs of concern for the aesthetics of a sacred place also appear in other documents. The Soto Zen monk Keizan Jokin (!268-1325), for example, issued a prohibition against cutting the branches of the pine trees near his monastery, almost certainly to preserve the beauty of the place. 120 But a more pressing reason for such prohibitions was definitely the danger that fires employed in deforestation activity could reach the temple's buildings and so threaten its survival, as the Saimyoji petition discussed earlier makes clear. Another case might shed further light on the issue concerning the symbolic capital represented by temple forests. In II89 (Bunji s), the priests of the Manji addressed a petition to the administrative offices (mandokoro) of the Horyiiji, its master temple, lamenting the fact that trees in an area surrounding the sacred well (akai) of Kami Iwasaka were being cut. This area, the priests argued, "is the holy ground in which the thirty or so protecting deities of the temple reside." Once deforested, the place looked "completely devastated"; it was "as if it had lost the sacred power of the deities." Thus, unauthorized tree logging aimed at the development of new fields for agriculture had to be stopped. 121 In this case, secular economic purposes clashed with temple control over the land; at the same time, deforestation appeared to the priests (but probably not to the loggers) as a loss of the protecting power of the deities.

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Another important issue at stake was the thin line separating concerns for beauty and symbolic capital on the one hand and the economic interests of the parties involved on the other. As the editors of the history of Minoo city suggest, the cause of the dispute between the Katsuoji and the local residents was a dramatic transformation in the economic structure of the area, which had just changed from self-sufficiency to a form of market economy.U2 Trees were now cut not only for the immediate needs of the neighboring communities but also to be sold as construction material or used to make charcoal. The priests were afraid that these new economic activities, by changing the life of the villagers, would also have a strong and negative impact on the environment. They had initially authorized the use of trees from their properties to make charcoal but were shocked by the rapidity of deforestation. 123 It is likely that similar situations also occurred in other previously mentioned cases. Initially, religious institutions tried to control economic development by turning a blind eye to it. They tolerated minor forms of trespass and even authorized tree cutters' guilds to fell trees in temple domains by granting them monopolies over logging and coal making. However, priests were shocked by the speed of progress of the new economy, which, because of its commercial and proto-capitalist nature, was radically different from previous forms of economic behavior. Traditional control of productive activities was becoming obsolete, thus threatening the social role of religious institutions. In some cases, the very existence of temples was endangered by fires started for land clearing and charcoal making. At that point, provincial temples lacking their own defense forces could only appeal to central authorities and invoke notions of sacredness as an ideological tool in the attempt to stop the exploitation of their lands. Trees were defined as ornaments of the buddhas and the kami, and temple lands were described as a Buddha's Pure Land. In short, notions of sacrality were employed by Buddhist institutions to combat economic transformations in their regions, which were also affecting people's attitudes toward religious institutions themselves. The impact on society of economic transformations (including logging) was a matter of serious concern for Buddhist institutions. The enforcement of prohibitions against killing (hunting) and logging contributed to the diffusion of ideas and practices concerning sacred land. These subsequently took shape in ideas of Japan as the land of the kami (shinkoku) and economy as a form of interaction with the invisible world of buddhas and kami.

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The fact that institutional claims about the sacredness of trees were a kind of last resort against new practices and ways of thinking sheds some light on received notions concerning the animistic outlook that supposedly constitutes the basis of Japanese Buddhist attitudes toward nature and inanimate objects in general. 124

Animism and the Japanese Cultural Tradition A common theme in modern studies of Buddhist doctrines on plants becoming buddhas is the assumption that these doctrines were the result of an animistic worldview that permeated Japanese culture.l25 However, almost all cultures present a fascination with the vegetal and natural world and with inanimate objects, a fascination that in some cases borders on "animism." In the early modern and modern Western tradition, for example, this attitude is expressed in many forms. They range from the grotesque vegetal portraits by Arcimboldo to Charles Baudelaire's "Correspondances" ("Nature is a temple where living pillars I At times allow confused words to come forth ..."), the Italian Pinocchio, and Hollywood animated films such as Who Framed Roger Rabbit and Toy Story, in which cartoons and toys come alive and interact with humans and their environment. In relation to medieval Japan, we can also recall an instructive passage in the autobiography of the Soto Zen monk Keizan Jokin: As for me, it was in the past, at the time of the Buddha Vipasyin, that I realized the fruit of Arhatship. I was living on the Himalayas, to the north of Mount Sumeru. At that time I was the deity of a Kuvala tree. With the head of a dog, the body of a kite, and the belly and tail of a serpent, I was a four-footed animal. Although I was only a humble tree deity, I nonetheless received the fruit [of Arhatship]. 126 In this case, was Keizan referring explicitly to pre-Buddhist beliefs about the sacred nature of trees? Was he referring to the Buddhist]ataka narrative tradition? Or both? Several documents actually tell us that the ancient Japanese did not consider all trees, and all of nature in general, as sacred. The Hitachi no kuni fudoki, for example, reports the following story: To the east [of the village of Satsu] is a large mountain called Kabire no Takamine. Here a heavenly god is enshrined, called Tachihayahio or Haya-

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fuwake. When he first descended to earth from heaven he landed on the top of an eight-branched pine tree in a place called Matsuzawa. This god's curse was terribly severe. If a man were to relieve himself in the direction of the god, he would immediately become sick or meet with some misfortune. The people in the area were greatly distressed and informed the court of their plight, asking for help. The court sent Kataoka no Omuraji to worship the god. He addressed the god saying: "There are farmhouses near the place where you now live, and day and night the area is polluted. Do not remain here but move instead to a pure place high in the mountain and reside there." The god heard his prayer and ascended to the top of Mt. Kabire; the villagers built a stone wall around his shrine. 127 This story can be interpreted in a number of ways, but it is clear that the villagers it refers to did not originally think that particular tree was sacred or even that a deity might be abiding in it. The presence of a kami was the cause of misfortune rather than something to celebrate as a sign of love for the sacredness of nature. As in the case of tree cutting on sacred lands, to the villagers, most trees were not sacred at all; they were just logs to be used in construction works or as charcoal. Only the trees immediately surrounding the temple buildings were treated with some respect. Even in these instances, it is probably impossible to determine with certainty whether the trees were sacred because a temple was there or whether a temple was there because the trees were sacred. Available sources provide support for either possibility. This implies that the issue of the sacredness of trees was far from commonly accepted. A story in the Nihon ryoiki on a speaking tree that was used to make a buddha image further confirms this point. The editor writes at the end of the narration: "Trees have no mind, how can they speak? ... The voice must have been produced by a spiritual power." 128 This emphasizes an important distinction between trees whose natural properties had been changed by spiritual influences and trees in general, which were otherwise mere inanimate things. The potentially animated nature of objects and material entities in general was also a matter of contention. Animism in this sense seems to have been a later elite ideology and not part of a more ancient popular tradition, and this must prompt us to consider the issues of animism, cultural continuity, and tradition further-subjects I will address in Chapters 6 and 7· At least in the cases I discussed earlier, villagers did not believe in the sacredness of trees (at least, not of all trees) to the point that they did

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not hesitate to deforest entire mountain areas and even set fires in the immediate vicinities of neighboring temples. It was the Buddhist priests who emphasized in official documents addressed to the secular authorities the sacredness of the trees situated in their lands as a way both to secure support and defend themselves. Therefore, the priestly authors of medieval documents that seem to express a form of animism were in fact mobilizing a complex initiatory philosophical knowledge about the Buddhahood of nonsentients to induce their audience to "believe" superstitious ideas about everyday objects. But why should this have been so important? It is arguable that prohibitions against logging represent some of the answers of religious institutions to the development of forms of proto-capitalism during the Kamakura and Muromachi periods and to the consequent increase in commodification processes. Such developments threatened consolidated notions of order and the role of religion in society. In particular, temple documents from the Heian and Kamakura periods insist on the sacrality of inanimate things as a way to help establish the temple's own independence and power. By introducing a new ritual dimension, Buddhist institutions were able to expand their presence in society at the level of micropractices of consumption (and disposal) of objects. Buddhism attempted to control the new social tendencies by authorizing them and marking them off through ritual action. In this way, Buddhist institutions tried to counter (or limit) secular commodification by increasing the range of commodified sacred services they were offering; they attempted to use commodification for their own purposes. In conclusion, it can be argued that the documents discussed in this chapter are not manifestations of an ancestral animistic mentality. Rather, they were written to respond to certain contemporary problems of a social and ideological character.

A Metaphor of Power Thus far, we have seen that doctrines on the nonsentients modified Buddhist soteriology to provide an ontological foundation for the existing social order. Moreover, far from being a direct product of Shinto animistic trends supposedly pervading Japanese attitudes toward nature, and ostensibly animated by environmental concerns, these doctrines played a role in the ideological arena of medieval Japan for the legitimization and strengthening of

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the social role of kenmitsu Buddhist institutions. Ideological effects were felt on several levels. Doctrines concerning the salvation of plants were initiatory instructions for internal use by Tendai and Shingon lineages but could be employed to control economic aspects of the land holdings of Buddhist institutions, especially those related to tree cutting and its revenues. In addition, they provided a doctrinal foundation for ideas concerning the sacredness of temples' territories, upon which the kenmitsu system was based. The first level is fairly straightforward. As secret initiatory teachings, doctrines on the Buddhahood of material entities were used to establish the symbolic capital of Shingon and Tendai lineages. They presented hidden aspects of reality whose knowledge ensured the attainment of liberation and therefore the status of living buddha. In other words, these doctrines were a matter of social and intellectual distinctions that produced symbolic capital, which could in turn generate economic and political capitaU 29 On the second level, these ideas were paradoxically used to justify tree cutting. Taira Masayuki has shown that in temple shoen estates, Buddhist precepts against killing (sessho) were used to control economic activities and produce revenues for the temple. Hunting and fishing, tilling the soil (in which insects were killed), logging trees to make firewood, and so forth were described in medieval Japan as sinful activities that would cause rebirth in hell. 130 These sins could be atoned for by offering to the buddhas and kami (i.e., to kenmitsu religious institutions) part of the production obtained from them. Temples authorized only certain guilds of tree cutters to log trees within their property, generating an income that was sacralized as a form of offering or even sacrifice. It is significant, however, that no hell was envisioned especially for the tree cutters, thus implying that trees were seen as different from sentient beings. The third level, that of ideology, is more complex. Since the Insei period (eleventh to twelfth centuries), temples' landholdings had been subjected to processes of sacralization aimed at ensuring direct control of them and independence from state authorities (the Heian court and, later, also the Kamakura military government). More precisely, land possessions were conceptualized as an extra-territorial sacred space explicitly defined as a "Buddha-land" (butsudo or bukkokudo), the same term used to designate a Pure Land. 131 This process probably began when ancient beliefs in the sacrality of mountains and forests were conflated with esoteric Buddhist notions of "sacred land" (kekkai). 132

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In due time, the process of sacralization of the land became increasingly complicated. It showed all the legal, philosophical, social, and politicoideological features of hegemony formation on the model outlined by Antonio Gramsci. First, land sacralization was sanctioned by forged documents alleging a direct donation from that land's protecting deity, as in the case of Niu Myojin for Kokawadera and ShOtoku Taishi for Shitennoji. 133 Religious institutions claimed that the real owner of their land was a supernatural being, usually their main deity or buddha, such as Niu Myojin and Kobo Daishi for Mt. Koya, the Great Buddha for the Todaiji, and Kumano Gongen for Kumano. At the same time, a newly created legal principle stated that "land offered to the buddhas cannot be regretted and returned" (during the medieval period, offered land could be claimed back from nonrelatives even after several generations). This sanctioned the inviolability of religious possessions. 134 Furthermore, everything within a temple's land possessions (kekkai) was sacred as belonging to a deity. Religious institutions reconfigured themselves as managers/mediators/bankers between the secular and profane dimensions of reality, between the visible and the invisible realms. Yet, to further emphasize that a temple's land was a Buddhist paradise, everything in it was presented as sacred and inviolable, and secular customs and regulations did not apply in it. In particular, prohibitions against killing animals and cutting trees were issued and enforced as strictly as possible, 135 with significant exceptions such as professional guilds licensed by religious institutions or the imperial household. All of the preceding was based on and reinforced by an ontology and soteriology of inanimate things (land in particular), summarized by the principle that plants become buddhas. In this framework, violations of the politico-economic order sanctioned by religious institutions amounted to antireligious actions, veritable crimes against the deities and the sacred cosmic order they represented. It is not surprising, then, that the refusal to pay taxes to the temples was branded as a sin that would provoke "punishment by the buddhas" (butsubachi). This was a new extra-canonical and heterodoxical concept that appeared toward the end of the Heian period in parallel with the development of the clerical economy centered on land possessions and revenues. 136 Social conflicts were thus mythologized and reduced to moments of a cosmic drama opposing Mara and the Buddha. The particular ontological status attributed to plants and the nonsentients was used to support the established order. An example of this attitude

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is a vow (ganmon) made by the priest Enshu Chokai in 1319, who, after collecting donations from r3,ooo people, was able to commission and enshrine an image of Kannon. The relevant document clearly indicates that for Chokai the world was hierarchically structured as a pyramid with deities and the emperor at the top, human beings in the middle, and animals, plants, and nonsentients at the bottom. As Hosokawa Ryoichi explains, even though the vow stresses that all beings are of the same substance as Kannon, their individual hierarchical differences, by being mentioned in a sacred document, are not erased. The reference to the nonsentients was a way to sacralize the imperial territory and the role of the sovereign.U 7 Such support for the established order and institutions was based on the idea that all of Japan was sacred, for everywhere in Japan buddhas and bodhisattvas manifested themselves in one form or another. The Rinzai monk Togan Ean, for example, made a vow to Hachiman in 1269 to invoke the intervention of the deity to defeat the Mongols. In it, he wrote: "Plants and the land, mountains, rivers, and swamps, the earth and the sky-there is no place where the manifestation of traces [of buddhas and bodhisattvas] does not occur." 138 This idea is obviously related to discourses on the Buddhahood of the nonsentients. More specifically, the territory of Japan was envisioned not as a mere space in which salvific activity took place but rather as an occurrence of the sanmaya mandala. As the sum total of the material embodiments of the mental states of the Buddhist deities, it communicates their various meditative states (samadhi) to the people living in it. 139 In other words, the territory was the site of salvation, the vehicle of salvific messages, and the body of the realized Buddha. The territory of the state was the polymorphous expression/embodiment/manifestation (its semiotic and ontological status is not very clear today) of particular spiritual states of a moral and religious nature. There was no distinction between the territory, the mandala as an object of worship (honzon) employed in Buddhist temples, and the universal mandala, the underlying structured substance of the cosmos, of which both are "alternative physical forms" (bunshin). As the Hachiman gudokun explains: "the territory [of Japan] is ... the unconditioned and undifferentiated (jinen soo) original land of Mahavairocana (Dainichi [no] honkoku)." 140 More generally, discourses and practices concerning Japan's sacredness aimed to enhance the role of religious institutions as protectors of the country and producers of wealth (or at least, as mediators in processes of wealth

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production). If Japan was a sacred country characterized by the presence of deities, religious professionals were needed to interact with them-a need that was satisfied by kenmitsu institutions. Finally, special groups of people, usually known as jinin and yoriudo, were established to be in charge of managing and policing the sacred lands of religious institutions. 141 From all of this appears, in all its complexity, the role that doctrines on plants becoming buddhas played in medieval Japanese culture. This, obviously, cannot be reduced to mere environmental concerns resulting from animistic tendencies.

Conclusion In this chapter, we have seen that the conceptual significance and symbolic role, not to mention the political and economic value, of the material world and nature, as typically symbolized by trees, within the Japanese culture, have never been uniform, self-identical, and uncontested. We find in ancient times traces of some forms of cult attributed to certain natural objects such as trees and stones, but their sacred nature was not self-evident or recognized by everyone. The story I quoted from the Hitachi Fudoki is particularly revealing. If everyone had shared a belief in the unconditioned and generalized sacredness of trees, villagers would not have relieved themselves under that tree in which by accident a kami happened to reside. It seems plausible that the direct depositaries of such cults and beliefs were priestly figures related to the centers of political power. It is with the arrival of Buddhism that trees became important (and literally, contested) symbols as both construction material and as an indication of Buddhist supremacy over local deities. It was also through the mediation of Buddhism that a discourse on the benign nature of trees developed during the Heian and Kamakura periods (until then, trees were rather envisioned as ambiguous and dangerous entities). This resignification of trees and the natural environment opened the way for a new conceptualization of the sacred, as indicated by the proliferation of Buddhist discourses on the kami. In turn, the development of the kami as a new cultural formation allowed for a conceptual (and ritual) alternative to Buddhism, which took shape solidly during the Tokugawa period in several Nativist and Neo-Confucian doctrines. The connection of such doctrines on the sacredness of nature, generally understood as the territory of Japan and thus essentially nationalistic in character, with

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modern Western philosophical discourses on nature resulted in a very strong symbolic idea of a special affinity of the Japanese with their environment, often identified as a feature of an ancestral Shinto. With regard to the more specifically Buddhist aspect of the issue at stake here, our analysis of Tendai and Shingon doctrines on the nonsentients in Chapter r revealed that, despite differing sectarian vocabularies and expressions, there was a common set of concerns underlying medieval kenmitsu discussions on the status of nonsentients. Mature Tendai doctrines of original enlightenment claim that plants do not become buddhas because they are already absolute and unconditioned parts of Suchness. Therefore, they play an essential and unchangeable role in the economy of the cosmos. According to this view, salvation consists in becoming aware of one's position within the cosmic (and social) order and in being content with one's "absolute" status. On the other hand, Shingon claimed that plants and the nonsentients are unconditioned parts of the Dharma Realm and the Dharma-body, which correspond to the sanmaya mandala in the fourfold typology of mandala (shishu mandara); as such, plants do become buddhas. For Shingon, however, becoming a buddha is not very different from the Tendai acquisition of awareness of one's place in the cosmic order. According to Shingon, plants do perform religious practices, but religious practices are actually described as secular everyday practices; in the case of plants, their vital cycle itself is envisioned as a soteriological process. In addition, both Tendai and Shingon traditions eliminated the sentientnonsentient dichotomy by showing that all beings are endowed with mind and consciousness. Their difference is thus epistemological, not ontological. It depends on our capacity to understand the animated nature of (apparently) nonsentient beings and on the actual configuration of nonsentients' minds. As we have seen, mind and consciousness tend to be on the obverse or background side rather than on the surface of inanimate beings. These common doctrinal orientations correspond to common ideological concerns: the establishment of the legitimacy of leading Tendai and Shingon lineages, the consolidation of their members' social status, and more generally, the strengthening of the social role of kenmitsu religious institutions. The medieval kenmitsu system was based on the idea, expressed in different forms by the various traditions, that this world is the Pure Land (shido soku jodo). This gave a doctrinal ground to the contemporary social

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and political order by a de facto sacralization of it. Doctrines on plants becoming buddhas played a role in defining the status of the territory in which beings lived and acted, from the entire Dharma Realm to the land of the Japanese state and down to the land of each individual temple. As we have seen, the notion of Buddhist paradise (bukkokudo or Buddhaland) was employed to define land possessions belonging to religious institutions.142 It should not be surprising, then, that the idea of the sacredness of the territory and the pervasiveness of the Pure Land was not inspired by egalitarian concerns. Rather, it presupposed a fixed hierarchy of beings and states of existence (in particular, the Six Destinations-rokudo-and the ten wor!ds-jikkai-but also the nonsentients), each deemed absolute and unconditioned. Differences, which were also social differences, were thus absolute and unbridgeable. According to this vision, there was no real change, no transfer from one state to another. Change was described as the result of illusion and the incapacity to grasp the real nature of things. The law of karma was thus voided. Significantly, such radical affirmation of the existing order necessarily implied the absolutization of contemporary power relations and social and economic structures. In particular, at the top were the "perfectly enlightened ascetics" (endon gyoja)-that is, the members of leading lineages-who considered themselves living buddhas. Even the emperor, conceptualized as a cakravartin (universal ruler protecting Buddhism), ultimately depended on Buddhist interpretations and rituals. 143 Although the adepts of the initiatory traditions claimed to be seeing the Pure Land in this world, commoners could only see the signs of hell: natural calamities, wars, disease, hunger, and suffering. But as Sato Hiroo explains, interpreting the initiated's position, "if someone cannot see in it anything but the landscape of hell because they cannot acquire the capacity to discern true reality, the responsibility is theirs and only theirs." 144 According to Sato, this position reduced objective social problems to individual cognitive and spiritual ones by hiding the contradictions of the system under the veil of mysticism. 145 It is not surprising that Hakamaya Noriaki has accused hongaku thought of authoritarianism and identified it as one of the theoretical instruments of social discrimination in Japan. 146 Thus, this world, and nature in particular, was not a paradise for everyone but only for those who were allowed to receive Tendai and Shingon initiation. Somoku jobutsu doctrines were part of the discourse of powerful

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monastic institutions (the kenmitsu system) addressing social changes occurring in medieval Japan. Their argument was that change was ontologically impossible. This is reflected in Tendai and Shingon discussions on the status of plants and the nonsentients. Because they were "always-already" part of absolute reality, there was no need (or possibility) for them to change into something other than what they already were. Beginning in the Muromachi period, initiatory notions about the salvation of plants began to spread throughout society, especially through media such as the performing arts (especially No drama) and poetry (in particular, popular forms such as renga). The diffusion of somoku jobutsu ideas may have had an ideological goal-namely, that of further strengthening the position of religious institutions when their power was beginning to be threatened by new social forces. Particularly important in this respect was the connection among those doctrines and two other areas of medieval religious discourse: honji suijaku doctrines and ideas about the sacredness of Japan (shinkoku shiso). 147 In conclusion, the idea of the possibility for plants to attain salvation did not stem primarily from environmental concerns but was part of a larger intellectual discourse aimed at legitimizing the place of Buddhist institutions in medieval Japanese society. Even though aesthetic and ecological attitudes were not absent, they were essentially part of an ideological project aimed at accumulating for temples and their leading lineages what Pierre Bourdieu has called "symbolic capital." Symbolic capital was in fact a necessary requisite for the acquisition of sociopolitical influence and economic capital, both of which were needed by religious institutions to survive in the rapidly changing world of premodern Japan. We have also seen that modern interpretations tend to emphasize alleged pre-existing Shinto and animistic elements. These interpretations miss the originality and main points of Buddhist speculations on the status of the nonsentients as doctrinal weapons for ideological purposes. When social and intellectual changes are downplayed or ignored in favor of mystified and nostalgic visions of a primordial past, as is the case here, we have merely the substitution of one ideological formation for another. In other words, whereas medieval Tendai and Shingon authors developed their doctrines on plants as ways to support their institutions' legitimacy and power, modern authors use the same doctrines to reinforce a certain vision of Japanese national and cultural identity and to legitimize Buddhism vis-a-vis the

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I7I

modern Japanese state. The study of doctrines of plants becoming buddhas reveals not just Buddhist conceptions about nature but also and especially the modalities of knowledge, power relations, and ideological apparatuses in the society where these doctrines developed. L48 In this chapter, we have seen that in ancient and medieval Japan, under the influence of Buddhism, the transformation of nature was envisioned as a step in the production of representations of the sacred. This process required several kinds of labor (intellectual, ritual, manual), which had to be conceptualized as overcoming its profane dimension to attain a semireligious status. The religious definition of labor and activities in this world in general, and of the tools employed, as a way to enact the manifestation of the sacred within the profane dimension of reality is the subject of the next chapter.

11 TOOLS AND LABOR AS MEDIATORS BETWEEN THE SACRED AND THE PROFANE

This chapter investigates issues of materiality at the intersection of religious practices and secular activities in late medieval and early modern Japan (with a coda about the contemporary situation) through a discussion of the symbolic role of work tools and rituals for professionals and for aspects of everyday life. A number of Buddhist institutions envisioned professional tools as transformations of ritual implements and embodiments of deities and other sacred entities such as the mandala. This peculiar status of tools also affected their use. Use of tools was configured on a metahistoricallevel involving myth, symbolism, and specifically religious goals such as salvation (becoming a buddha, rebirth in Amida's Pure Land) and the acquisition of worldly benefits (a long life unaffected by disease and evil occurrences). Such religious goals were promised not only by priests but also by the craftspeople using those tools. In this way, secular action in this world was envisioned as involving sacred entities; that is, the establishment of a sacred ordering of reality was carried out not only through rituals performed by religious specialists but also through secular everyday activities. Thus, we could say that religious institutions attempted to control everyday practices and productive activities in particular-at least, in symbolic terms in the realms of mythical narratives and ritual procedures-by positing such

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activities as occurring on a metahistoricallevel and explaining them as the intervention in this world of deities of the honji suijaku Buddhist combinatory pantheon. We can identify four different areas in such general sacralization of the everyday: Professional categories traced their history back to a combinatory deity in the honji suijaku pantheon; professional tools were considered sacred objects (in some cases, mandalas), created by some founding hero or deity; labor was treated as a sort of religious performance; and everyday practices were presented as forms of interaction between human beings and the deities. Materiality was one of the fields in which the relationships between the sacred and the profane were enacted and represented. Enactments and representations of such relationships involved labor and the employment of tools, which became sacred entities themselves. In this chapter, I discuss each of the four areas in detail. I also sketch an outline of the historical developments of the discourse concerning the sacralization of tools, labor, and everyday practices, including early modern Nativist appropriation of such discourse and its lasting effects in contemporary Japan. I envision this chapter as an exploration of some micropolitical effects of Japanese religion's uses of materiality.

Origin Myths of Professional Categories Since at least the late Muromachi period (end of the fifteenth century), and especially during the Edo period, a number of professional households and guilds began to write and hand down narratives concerning their ancestors, the origin of their crafts, trades, and tools, and the religious significance of their activities. These narratives follow the structure and symbolism of contemporaneous genres known as engimono and honjimono (origin narratives of sacred beings and places) and are representations of the religious worldview of the time. Among the professions I discuss to varying extent are merchants, carpenters, itinerant puppeteers and theater performers, prostitutes, warriors and martial arts specialists, needle makers, mirror polishers, tree cutters, farmers, shakuhachi players, and physicians. The most extensive sources I rely upon for this chapter are two bodies of documents relating to the honji suijaku discourse in medieval and early modern Japan. The first set of documents is constituted by the so-called Akibito no makimono ("Scrolls of Itinerant Merchants"), texts presenting

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myths and legends concerning the origin of itinerant merchants (akibito) and their trade tools. 1 Some of these texts date back to the fifteenth century, but most began to appear toward the end of the Muromachi period (mid-sixteenth century). Their authors were probably Kumano yamabushi. As several scholars have pointed out, the narrative parts of these texts are examples of honjimono, a literary genre of the Muromachi period about the sacred origins of people, things, places, or events. These narratives are very important for understanding the mentalities of the people who wrote and used them. 2 The most representative, entitled Hakari no honji, exists in two rather different versions, dated by Tokue Gensei to the end of the Muromachi period and the beginning of the Edo period, respectively. 3 The later version, supposedly a transcription of "various speeches by Lord Chomei, resident in Unno, Shiratori domain, Ogata district, Shinano Province," includes narratives concerning the origin of the scale (hakari), the renjaku rope, and the merchants themselves. It also contains instructions on the merchants' procedures and behavior (saho) and rules to be respected in the marketplace. 4 Narratives on the renjaku rope used by itinerant merchants include the Renjaku no daiji from the Aizu region in northeastern Japan, dated 1621 (Genna 7). 5 The renjaku is a rope used by itinerant merchants to secure to their shoulders the box containing their merchandise; this box is known as sendabitsu. All these documents contain narrations on the origin of the scale, the renjaku rope, and the merchants, together with instructions on merchants' correct behavior. Some texts also include a lineage of the four main merchant households, information on the merchants' guild, and references to En no Gyoja, traditionally considered the founder of Shugendo, and Ebisu, the god of merchants. 6 Apparently, these documents were written when the itinerant merchants were rapidly losing their prosperity as ways to legitimize their rights. 7 The second body of documents I discuss is a number of ritual procedures for work and everyday practices produced by the Miwa shrine-temple complex between the eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries. 8 They contain instructions concerning the ritualization of labor and everyday practices. In spite of their late composition, these documents seem to be the crystallization of earlier visions of sacredness, in particular concerning the relations between the profane world and the sacred realm of buddhas and kami. I dedicate particular attention to the rites for carpenters, many of whose texts survive, for they can give us a fairly good idea of the general outlook

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of such ritual labor practices; in addition, I refer to other sources dealing with similar issues. Despite their differences, both sets of documents, the merchants' scrolls and Miwa ritual procedures, show a sophisticated combination of "Buddhist" and "Shinto" elements, especially in their attribution of a sacred essence (honji) to professional tools and in their theories about labor, which is envisioned as a collaboration of humans and deities with an ultimate soteriological goal. These documents are a very concrete and graphic example of Buddhism's impact in premodern Japan, in which labor and many aspects of everyday life were turned into ritual activities. In this process, instructions concerning labor rituals are often defined daiji, literally "important matter," a term that appears in doctrinal texts and ritual procedures of esoteric Buddhism and Shugendo with the meaning of "secret instructions." These instructions were handed down in the form of kirigami (secret paper strips) or hiden (secret oral transmission), much like esoteric Buddhist teachings. Some ritual manuals end with the sentence: "The above collection of rituals should not be transmitted [to outsiders] even for one thousand gold [coins]. It must be kept secret." 9 This is a formula also found in esoteric initiatory documents. 10 All this indicates the importance of esoteric Buddhism as a communicative model, paradigm for instruction processes, and mechanism to generate symbolic power based on religious imagery throughout premodern Japan. Trades and crafts professionals in premodern Japan traced their history back to mythological space and time by producing narratives that were heavily influenced by the honji suijaku discourse. Many of these narratives in fact belong to the genre known as honjimono (narratives of sacred origins), directly related to accounts of the origins of a deity or sacred place (engi). MERCHANTS

Origin narratives of itinerant merchants known as renjaku and akibito (akindo) describe mythical events taking place not only in Japan but also in China and India. 11 What follows is a synopsis of a typical story as it appears in an Edo period version of the Hakari no honji. 12 The king of Khitan (a region bordering on present-day North Korea) in Great Tang accumulated religious merit and was reborn as a wealthy man in India. He rigorously kept the Buddhist precepts and was thus reborn seven times as the king

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of Magadha. In his seventh lifetime, he went to Japan with a retinue of twenty-eight people; there, he chose as his abode Kumano in the land of Kii and became Kumano Gongen, the main deity of the region. 13 His retinue became yamabushi, and four among them became merchants. 14 According to another text, this latter event happened during the reign of Emperor Keiko, the father of Yamato Takeru, and thus during a mythical time.U Several points in this narrative are particularly striking to modern interpreters: the transnational origin of the merchants, going back to India; the connection among religion, ethical behavior, wealth, and power as centered on Kumano Gongen and his retinue; the karmic interchange between merchants and kings; and the sacred nature of commerce and its relation to the yamabushi. 16 The influence of Kumano Shugendo in these texts seems particularly strong; in fact, it is possible that Shugendo practitioners were responsible for many instances of sacralization of labor and everyday practices discussed in this chapter. In this respect, it is interesting to note that the Shoka koki adds to the mythical narrative summarized earlier about the genealogy of En no Gyoja, traditionally considered the founder of Shugendo, the genealogy of the aforementioned four merchant families, and information on a merchant guild from Kofu (present-day Yamanashi Prefecture) in central JapanY In this way, texts of premodern Japanese merchants employ mythico-historical narratives (of which genealogy is a category) to draw a direct connection between certain deities and specific households. Shoka koki also includes, after the origin narrative of merchants, an origin myth of Ebisu, their protector deity. Ebisu adds further complexity to the symbolism of merchants and their activities. References to him appear in several other texts, in particular the Miwa corpus of ritual instructions for professionals. The god Ebisu is identified by the Shoka koki with the leech-child (Hiruko) generated by Izanagi and Izanami as a consequence of a breach in the ritual protocols of sexual intercourse regulating the roles of yin and yang, as described in the Kojiki and the Nihon shoki. 18 The legend has the leech-child, abandoned at sea, drifting until it arrived at the beach of Nishinomiya in present-day Kobe, now the site of an important shrine dedicated to Ebisu. Another text stresses that, since the time of Emperor Jinmu, Ebisu is the god of wealth; Shotoku Taishi made him the god of marketplaces when he established the first market. 19 In other words, Ebisu, a deity that was born "defective" as a result of a ritual violation affecting the cosmic order as represented in sexuality and procreation, became the

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protector of wealth and the marketplace. 20 In addition, Ebisu, especially in connection to his alter ego Daikokuten, might also have played a mediating role in the establishment of ideas of sacrality of professional tools and their religious rituals.U CARPENTERS

Carpenters traced their origins back to ancient Japanese myths. Some Miwa texts identify the progenitor of carpenters in Futodama, the ancestor of the Inbe clan. According to the Kogo shui by Inbe no Hironari (fl. 807), Futodama, together with two servant gods, Taokihoohi and Hikosashiri, constructed a building and collaborated in producing ritual objects on occasion of the festival organized to lure Amaterasu out of her heavenly cavern (Ama no iwato), where she was hiding, tired of Susanoo's disruptions of the heavenly order. Among their grandchildren, there were two gods, named Daijin and Kujin, who helped Emperor Jinmu when he built the first edifice in Japan. 22 The texts indicate that before Jinmu's arrival, the people living in the Japanese archipelago dwelt in trees or in holes in the ground. 23 The first characters of the names of the gods Daijin and Kujin were subsequently combined to form the word daiku (carpenter). The descendants of these two gods were called Banjin and Shojin; again, the first characters of the respective names were united to form the term bansho or banjo (another kind of carpenter). This is, according to documents from Miwa, the mythological origin of carpenters (daiku and bansho ). This narrative legitimized the profession and their adepts as descendants of gods who had first helped bring Amaterasu back to this world and later had helped the first emperor, Jinmu, in his civilizing effort-namely, the construction of edifices. In addition, as one text emphasizes, daiku and bansho are originally not separate, as descendants of the same gods in the same lineage; this was perhaps an invitation to work well together and to tone down professional rivalries. 24 Other carpenter guilds had different and very imaginative origin narratives. The Kiko house of imperial carpenters, active at the imperial palace until the end of the Muromachi period, handed down the following story. A legendary carpenter from Hida in central Japan, known in such narratives as Hida no Takumi, had built animated puppets that looked exactly like men; an imperial lady fell in love with one of them. From their union, a baby was born, called Kiko ("son of the tree" or "son of wood")Y This

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story closely resembles origin narratives of hinin, discriminated people in premodern Japan. According to one such story, the famed court magician (Onmyoji) Abe no Seimei had made some puppets for ritual purposes; when he no longer needed them, he threw them into the Kamo River. The puppets turned into men and had intercourse with real women; their children were called hinin ("nonhumans"). In another version, Hida no Takumi and master carpenter Takeda (Takeda no banjo) had made puppets to help them with their work at the imperial palace. A court lady fell in love with one of them and bore a child-again, a hinin. 26 An interesting feature of these stories is the interchangeability of Abe no Seimei and carpenters in their capacity to transform inanimate material (wood) into human forms (puppets) and finally into human beings. There is a symbolic continuity between magic and carpentry, as there was between deities and merchants in the previous narratives. This continuity was probably based on some beliefs on the essentially animate nature of inanimate entities, in particular trees (the material of carpentry), as we saw in Chapters r and 4-a theme that was further explored by later narratives such as the Tsukumogami ki, which I will discuss in Chapter 6. 27 OTHER PROFESSIONAL CATEGORIES

Itinerant puppeteers (kairaishi or kugutsu), who were also active as merchants, had their own origin narratives going back to China. 28 Theater performers claimed to be the descendants of an elusive, somber, and ambiguous deity known as Shukujin and identified with the figure of okina. 29 Even prostitutes-in medieval Japan, theirs was regarded as a full-fledged profession-were envisioned by some authors as manifestations of Kannon. 30 Needle makers traced the origin of their trade and their professional category to Shotoku Taishi's older sister. According to their story as told in

Keicho kenmonshii, an Edo text referring to a document of the Kamakura period, Prince Shotoku expelled her from the court because she was physically impaired but not before he had taught her how to make needles so she could support herself. 31 There are indications that warriors also traced their origin to a mythological realm. In some cases, warriors saw their activities as an earthly manifestation of the battles opposing the Four Heavenly Kings (Shi Tenno) to Ashura and devils. 32 In other cases, martial arts lineages conceived of their origins based on the model of the Three Countries (sangoku). Accordingly, they claimed to derive from either Maiijusrl's sword of wisdom

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or Marishi (India), from mythological battles of the Yellow Emperor (Huang Di, China), and from Izanagi and Izanami (Japan). 33 Tree cutters claimed a special connection with Ususama Myoo and, by extension, with Fudo Myoo. 34 Finally, origin narratives circulating among mirror polishers (kagamitogi) from Nagami village in present-day Toyama Prefecture, composed between 1574 and 1756, traced their origin to an Indian supernatural figure that can be ultimately identified with Mahesvara, the Buddhist version of the Hindu god Siva; some of these narratives contain a rudimentary form of the Three Countries model, with additional references to China (heaven and earth, yin and yang) and to Japan. 35 Common features of all these narratives are the mythical origin of a trade and its professionals, going back to a deity or a semidivine figure such as Kumano Gongen, Buddhist deities, the Yellow Emperor, Abe no Seimei, and Shotoku Taishi and the connections between sacredness and work, between a profession and kingship (in particular, the imperial court), and between at least certain professions and discriminated groups (social marginality). In other words, these narratives testify to a circuit connecting kingship, arts and crafts, and marginality-a theme that has been studied in depth by Amino Yoshihiko. 36 The quasi-magical elements inherent in professions made them the object of contempt and discrimination in a process that began in the fourteenth century. 37 Professionals responded by producing narratives that emphasized the sacredness of their lineage and their activities.

The Sacredness of Professional Tools Professional tools were considered sacred objects in premodern Japan. Stories reported that they had been created by some founding hero or deity, usually in a process that began in India and developed in China, as we have already seen in the origin myth of the merchants' scale. Often, tools were treated as manifest traces (suijaku) of deities, who constituted the tools' original form (honji). Some tools were treated as mandalas. Particularly significant in this respect are the renjaku rope, which secures the container known as sendabitsu to the shoulders of the itinerant merchant, and the scale (hakari). Similar cases are those of the shakuhachi flute played by the komuso monks of the Zen Fuke sect and weapons employed by warriors. 3 s

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TOOLS AS "MANIFEST TRACES" (SUI]AKU)

Documents from the Miwa shrine-temple list numerous such tools, even though an original essence (honji) is not indicated for all. Here are some examples of the essences of a number of professional tools (the name of the tool is followed by its honji). Among the carpenter's tools: ruler (shakujo): Fudo Myoo39 chisel (nomi): Jizo, Sakyamuni 40 metal hammer (kanazuchi): Aizen Myoo plane (kanna): Jizo, Fudo Myoo, or Sakyamuni41 gimlet (kiri): Jilichimen Kannon hatchet (chona): none (but its ritual involves Kannon and Bishamonten) ink ruler (sumitsubo): Dainichi 42 Among the blacksmith's tools: rasp (yasuri): Manjusr1 bellows (fuigo): Kokuzo blacksmith's fire: Buddha Ratnasarpbhava (Hosho) TOOLS AS MYTHOLOGICAL ENTITIES

The Akibito no makimono report in detail the mythical origins of the scale (hakari) and the renjaku rope, the most characteristic tools of itinerant merchants. According to such narratives, both tools appeared for the first time in India, were brought to China, and finally arrived in Japan. A summary is as follows. 43 The great King Sivi (Jp. Shibi) of Central India was a very compassionate man. To test him, the Bodhisattva Fugen (Samantabhadra) and the god/Bodhisattva Hachiman took the shape of a pigeon and a hawk, respectively. The pigeon placed itself on the king's lap, while the hawk was staring at the pigeon waiting for a chance to capture it. The king took compassion on the pigeon. To induce the hawk to spare it, the king cut a portion of his own body, put on a scale an amount of his own flesh equivalent to the weight of the pigeon, and offered it to the hawk in compensation. At that point, the two birds disappeared, and when the king looked at his body, there was no trace of the injury he had inflicted upon himself. 44 At this point, the narrative shifts to China, where the scale was subsequently established as a tool at the time of the monk Shandao (6r3-68r). 45 The scale

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came to represent Mount Sumeru and its cosmology. Finally, the scale was brought to Japan by Gyoki (668-749). Obviously, this narrative has no pretension to give an accurate historical account. There is no explanation concerning King Sivi, the role of Shandao is obscure, and Gyoki never went to China. However, the story offers several interesting symbolic and thematic elements. The first section centered on King Sivi is inspired by ]iitaka Buddhist tales. This tale of gift giving (Sk. dana, Jp. fuse) and self-sacrifice, one of the six superior virtues (paramitas) of Buddhism, stresses compassion toward all sentient beings and disregard for one's own interest. It also legitimizes the merchant's activity as a way to promote Buddhist ideals, a theme that is further emphasized by the symbolism of Mount Sumeru. The solidity and straightness of this cosmic mountain are treated as metaphors for the moral character of the merchant, who should be honest and compassionate. Particularly significant is also the presence of both Samantabhadra (Fugen) and Hachiman because they play closely interconnected roles. Finally, the reference to Gyoki is perhaps an indication of the nonofficial nature of such mythical narratives. The narratives concerning the renjaku rope are more confused and complicated, as is evident from the following summary.46 Once upon a time, the asuras were fighting against the gods in India. Suddenly, two worms (mushi), five yards long (one jo and five shaku), appeared on Indra's altar (Taishaku no dan). Maiijusii (Monju) and Samantabhadra (Fugen) saw that they represented Mahavairocana (Dainichi) of the two mandala realms. They asked: "What kind of animals are you?" The worms replied: "We are the energy of Indra's ascetic practices coagulated and turned into two worms." One worm was named Soshi, and the other was Hossu. Maiijusri built an altar on the water of the Ganges River and performed austerities for seven days and seven nights. Eventually, Mahavairocana appeared to him in the shape of a six-yard (one jo eight shaku) rope that was called Mahavairocana's honjaku ("original shaku"). In India, that rope was subsequently used by the Buddha Sakyamuni. At this point, there follows a quite confused narration of events in India and in China at the time of Confucius. Suffice it to say that there was also a phonetic and a functional transformation because in China the honjaku rope was called henjaku and was used as a whip. Finally, the rope arrived in Japan, in the Kii Province (where Kumano is located), as a rope binding a box containing the Large

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Wisdom Sutra (Daihannyakyo ). In Japan, the renjaku is handed down by merchants (akibito). This story proposes the series: worms (as manifestation of Dainichi)rope (perhaps signifying Dainichi's unit of measurement)-whip (one of the symbols of Fudo Myoo, used to convert reluctant beings to Buddhism)sutra box binding rope-merchants' rope. In this narrative, as in the previous one, we observe a pervasive presence of religious themes, not necessarily well integrated with each other, and a systematic transformation of the religious into the secular, and vice versa. The implication is that tools are still imbued with their sacred aura and ethical power. TOOLS AS INTRINSICALLY SACRED ENTITIES

Professional tools were envisioned not just as mere representations of the sacred as the result of transformation processes going back to a mythical past; in some cases, they were direct embodiments of the sacred, real presences of the Japanese Buddhist pantheon. The scale (hakari) had a veritable cosmology; it stood for Mount Sumeru, the four cardinal points, the realm (tenka), and the sun and the moon. The dots indicating the weight stood for stars and planets. Several deities resided in the scale: Dainichi, Amida, Kannon, Seishi, the sun and the moon, the seven stars of the Big Dipper, and the twenty-eight lunar mansions in what appears to be a connection with the star mandata (hoshi mandara) of esoteric Buddhism and Shugendo. Placing an object on the scale was thus a sacred action: The object being weighed was placed right at the center of the very mechanism of the sacred cosmos of Japanese religion (Figure s.r). The renjaku rope was associated, in addition to the Indian and Chinese elements I have already presented, with Japan's creation myth, as an object originally attached to the heavenly halberd (ama no sakahoko) used by the gods to create Japan. 47 The renjaku was also conceived of as the symbolic object (sanmaya) of certain Buddhist deities, such as Kannon and Fudo, who use it to capture reluctant or reticent sentient beings and convert them to Buddhism. In fact, the renjaku had a mandalic structure: The right knot was the Vajra mandala, and the left knot was the Womb mandala. 48 The two pieces of rope on the front were the sun and the moon, and the two on the back were heaven and earth; the renjaku itself closely resembles the kai no o, the rope the yamabushi wrap around their waist when they climb the mountains to perform ascetic practices. Some texts also indicate correspondences

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souRCE: From Shoka koki, property of Yamanashi Kenritsu Hakubutsukan, in Kokuritsu rekishi minzoku hakubutsukan, eds., Chusei shonin no sekai (Tokyo: Nihon edita sukiiru shuppanbu, 1998, p. 215). Courtesy of Yamanashi Kenritsu Hakubutsukan and Kokuritsu rekishi minzoku hakubutsukan.

between specific points in the rope and several five-element series (buddhas and their Siddharpletters, colors, shapes, flavors, body organs, etc.) quite common in esoteric Buddhism and Shugendo (Figure 5.2). The association of some professional tools with the mandala should not come as a surprise. As a pervasive model of the sacred in premodern Japan, the mandala was strategically deployed in the materialistic cosmology of esoteric Buddhism, in doctrines about the sacrality of inanimate things (somoku jobutsu), and in geopolitical definitions of Japan as a sacred land. 49 A semiotics of representation involving a theory of hierophany stressing the continuity among buddha images, ritual implements, and professional tools made the mandala the general model of the sacred. 50 Agricultural tools were sacralized as well. For example, the sickle (kama) was envisioned as the divine body (goshintai) of Inari but also as Benzaiten in her quality as the supervisor of the mikura (the warehouse containing one family's wealth). 5 1 A particular kind of plow (karasuki) was visualized as the one-pronged vajra (dokko) used in esoteric rituals. 52 Some texts even present work animals as embodiments of buddhas. For example, the horse

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was a manifestation of Bato Kannon, and the cow was a manifestation of Dainichi. These texts were perhaps read aloud in rituals performed at the opening ceremonies for horse and cow markets. 53 The use of the plow (suki) was preceded by the invocation: "heaven and earth have the same root; all things are of one substance" 54-an invocation that de facto turned the plow into a liturgical implement. The same happened with other tools that were envisioned as embodiments of morality, instruments for the construction of a perfect society. For example, it was said that the scale weighs good and evil; similar moral meaning was also associated with the measure (masu) and with the abacus (soroban). 55 The shakuhachi flute played by the komuso, monks belonging to the Fuke branch of the Rinzai school, can also be considered a professional tool. The shakuhachi shared all the features of sacredness we have outlined thus far. Edo period texts report that it had been transmitted across the Three Countries (India, China, and Japan); it bore associations with Shotoku Taishi and En no Gyoja (i.e., the official and unofficial sides of Japanese Buddhism). As a sacred musical instrument, to play it is equivalent to performing Zen meditation (zazen) in search for the "absolute sound" (tetteion); its sound caused the "deities of the mountains" to bestow their blessings upon the people, much like the performance of Zen rituals that was believed to tame the dangerous aspects of the kami. 56 The honji suijaku combinatory religiosity was also operative in the shakuhachi. Its front (omote) represents the buddhas (honji), and its back (ura) represents the kami (suijaku). Interestingly, the shakuhachi was also figured as a mandala, with its five holes representing the five Buddhas, the five wisdoms (gochi), and the five directions as typical of esoteric Buddhist correlative cosmology. 57 Similarly, the samurai's sword was also conceived of as a mandalic entity representing/embodying deities, planets, cosmic elements, and so forth. 58 The main tool of the mirror polishers, the polishing board (togiita), symbolized the nine levels of Amida's Pure Land, the buddhas in the three times (past, present, and future), the fifty-two stages of the bodhisattva's career, heaven and earth, and yin and yang. 59 The marketplace was treated in premodern Japan as a sacred area, the concrete manifestation in time and space of the cosmology of esoteric Buddhism, and as such, it shares some of the features of professional tools we have seen thus far. The market was also envisioned as a particular space free from worldly ties (muen), like the womb and the mountains. Thus,

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markets were usually held in liminal areas such as riverbanks, beaches, crossroads, village and town boundaries, and before temple gates. 60 The Edo period Renjaku no daiji presents a detailed map with descriptions of a marketplace set up by yamabushi. 61 Its cosmological, mandalic structure is evident. It is 36o-hiro (about 700-yards) long, and this number represents the days of the year; it is 12-hiro (about 23-yards) wide, indicating the twelve months. The upper part is composed of forty-eight booths, expressing Amida's forty-eight vows; the twelve booths in the lower part indicate Yakushi's twelve vows. Each section is marked by a torii gate; outside the lower torii, there are a bathhouse and a resting place (tankawaya). At the connecting point between the upper and the lower sections, there is a Buddha hall (Nakamido). The text also lists twenty-one kinds of offerings to Sumiyoshi, the god of the marketplace, but there is no indication in the text of a special building dedicated to him. In other words, the Renjaku no daiji establishes a sacred hierarchy with Amida at the top, Yakushi in between, and Sumiyoshi at the bottom; this is a reflection of the original essences (honji) of the two main shrines in Kumano. The honji of Hongu is in fact Amida, and that of Shingu is Yakushi. 62 Ito Masayoshi suggests that during the Edo period, the sacredness of the marketplace, based on honji suijaku religiosity controlled by Shugendo, decreased; in some cases, it was even openly denied. The feudal administrators tried to place economic activities under their control-especially the festive, carnivalistic manifestations that accompanied them in marketplace rituals. However, street performers and clowns took the place of religious performers. Whether that was a "quiet rebirth of medieval festive principles," as Ito suggests, or rather a form of secularization is open to discussion. 63 The relationships that appear in these texts among merchants, their objects, and the yamabushi were not purely doctrinal. The yamabushi are known to have established marketplaces, as in Aizu Takada, and to have read market prayers (ichi no saimon), as in Iwatsuki in Musashi Province. 64 To sum up our discussion so far, we could say that the sacredness of tools was essentially of two kinds: indirect, based on contact, as in the case of creation by a deity, or direct, based on the intrinsic features of the tool, as in mandala or the divine body of a kami (goshintai). Tools' sacredness was based on the combinatory and correlative logic that dominated premodern Japanese epistemology. Thus, tools, their functions, myths related to those tools, and deities associated with those myths were all connected following

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a sort of interpretive drift. As a result, all of those items came to constitute a macrosemiotic entity in which distinctions among tools, deities, secular functions, and sacred notions were explicitly eliminated. This logic led to the sacralization of work, because the handling of sacred objects became necessarily a religious ritual that should be performed according to specific regulations. This does not necessarily mean that actual carpenters or merchants thought that their work was "sacred" and they were actually manipulating cosmic forces in their job, even though this possibility cannot be dismissed. I will discuss this problem toward the end of this chapter.

Labor as a Religious Performance Several professional categories traditionally worship specific deities related to their work. These forms of cult function, among other things, to render labor worthy of divine protection-that is, to transform everyday profane work into an activity with religious connotations. For example, carpenters used to form confraternities engaged in the cult of Shotoku Taishi (Taishi ko), who was considered their main deity throughout Japan. Rituals took place in front of an image of the Prince. Some of these images had unusual features, such as the icon of the confraternity of Boyo village (Mata, Nagana Prefecture), which holds an ink ruler (sumitsubo) in its hands. Until the Meiji period, carpenters in the Yamato region used to gather on New Year at Horyuji Shunan'in Chapel in front of an image of Shotoku Taishi holding a square (kanejaku)Y Another group of carpenters, based in Mononobe village (Kochi Prefecture), envisions the ink ruler itself as Shotoku Taishi and worships the mythical Hida no Takumi as their ancestor. 66 Wood artisans (kijishi, i.e., makers of wooden bowls and plates) worshiped Prince Koretaka (844-897), son of Emperor Montoku (827-858, r. 850-858), as their divinized ancestor; dyers worshiped Aizen Myoo, lacquer artisans Kokuzo, ironsmiths Kojin, horse breeders (umakai) Bato Kannon, prostitutes Benzaiten, and merchants Ebisu, Daikoku, and Inari. 67 More specifically, Miwa ritual documents treat labor as a sort of religious performance. Each phase of work was equated, through mantras and mudras, to a salvific action producing either worldly benefits (genze riyaku) or enlightenment (or both) in accordance with the doctrines of esoteric Buddhism. Most rituals or ritual segments require the chanting of mantras, the performance of mudras, and the singing of secret songs to the kami;

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they also require oral instructions concerning details, such as the offerings to be prepared. Mantras were often written in the Siddharp script, and since their Japanese transliteration is not indicated in the texts, one assumes that there were also separate oral or written transmissions concerning the pronunciation of mantras, as well as separate instructions on hand gestures. Overall, the rituals present work and everyday practices as instances of the esoteric cosmology and soteriology and give professionals (and more generally, all people involved) a powerful cosmic role. 68 VARIOUS PROFESSIONS

The Miwa documents contain rituals for a number of professions. Soldiers (bushi) performed rituals for weapons (in them, invocations to Hachiman are relatively numerous; other deities involved are Marishi, Dainichi, and Kannon) and to become invisible (based on Kannon and Aizen). 69 Documents concerning merchants contain information about Ebisu (called Hiruko); instructions on how to handle tools such as the scale (hakari no daiji), the measure (masu), and the abacus (soroban); and rites to be loved by everyone/0 for the elimination of calamities, to avoid black magic (the latter are based on visualizations of emptiness, the lotus, and the pure mind, 71 and on the thought that "self and other are undifferentiated"), 72 and to avoid losses (by visualizing the universe with compassionate eyes and seeing infinite wealth everywhere). 73 Farmers were prescribed rituals concerning water, seeds, rice transplantation (taue), fertility and peace in the realm, successful harvest, and so forth. 74 In addition, there are ritual instructions concerning the medical profession (ido), medicines (yakushu), and physicians/5 for blacksmiths (kajiya no daiji, which include purification, mantras, and invocations), silk makers (kinu shi), dyers (kon'ya), Buddhist sculptors (busshi), biwa hoshi, koto players, onmyoji diviners, and even bakuchi gamblers (who were advised to remember that increase in wealth is an indication of the glory of religious institutions). 76 Warriors developed complex rituals of a semireligious nature, not always directly related to Miwa doctrines, involving recitation of Buddhist sentences, mantra chanting, and drawing of Siddharp characters. In these rituals, martial arts were described as a Buddhist practice based, according to the lineage, on Zen or Shingon teachings. Weapons were envisioned as sacred entities, manifestations of deities such as Hachiman, the Four Heavenly Kings (Shintenno) or in the case of their horses, of Bato (Horse-head)

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Kannon; warriors' activities were treated as a reenactment in this world of supernatural battles opposing the realm of the buddhas and that of the devils. Shugendo priests played an important role in the development of such rituals. 77 Mirror polishers envisioned a well-polished mirror as a representation of both Buddha's enlightenment and the Japanese kami. Looking into such a mirror would result in liberation from the suffering of sa'?lsiira; in contrast, a dirty mirror represents a world without buddhas and kami. Their work was thus very important and was equated with the opening of the entrance to the heavenly cavern by Izanagi and Izanami. 78 TREE CUTTERS AND STONECUTTERS

A text contains the instructions for a ritual to be performed before cutting a sacred tree. The performer must write three mantric seeds and blow his breath on the tree. The three mantric seeds are ~a representing low capacities for salvation, srt representing the innate quiescent nature, and hrtf; representing purity. He then circumambulates the tree while tapping it three times. Next, he intones the apocryphal stanza from the Zhongyin jing: "When one Buddha attains enlightenment and looks at the Dharma Realm, he sees that plants and the territory all become buddhas." 79 By chanting this stanza as a promise for the salvation of the tree, the logger envisions himself as a buddha-a feature that can be found in other professional rituals. Interestingly, Kimura Hiroshi mentions the existence in Yamagata Prefecture and, to a lesser extent, in Fukushima Prefecture, of numerous funerary stones commemorating trees that have been logged. Known as somoku kuyato (lit., "memorial stupas for plants") or somokuto ("stupas for plants"), the oldest steles were erected in the mid-Edo period, but a few date to the 1920s and 1930s. Some bear the inscription "plants and the territory all become buddhas" (somoku kokudo shikkai jobutsu). 80 Rituals of this kind appear to be still performed by tree cutters and carpenters in rural areas of Japan. 81 Stonecutters also performed a ceremony that involved joining hands in prayer and intoning the variant of the Zhongyin jing apocryphal stanza: "when one Buddha in his Pure Land looks at the Dharma Realm, he sees that plants and the territory all become buddhas." 82 Sources indicate that this ceremony was originally performed for the cutting of stones that were used to make religious images. 83 In other words, professional rituals for loggers and stonecutters might point to the origin of professional rituals in

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general: the acquisition of raw materials for the production of Buddhist images. In Mononobe village (Kochi Prefecture), stonecutters perform a ritual in which they hit the stone they are carving with a mallet to send the spirit of the stone (which they call suibaku, "auspicious spirit") to heaven. 84 As I argued in Chapter 4, the disruption in the natural order caused by tree and stonecutting was reconfigured in Buddhist terms as a preliminary stage in the process leading those materials to becoming buddhas. CARPENTERS

The most complete ritual instructions available to us today are those for carpenters developed by the Miwa shrine-temple complex. According to Hatta Yukio, there are a number of variants of a text dealing with the procedures in eighteen steps to be followed by carpenters. 85 They contain mantras and brief religious explanations for each step of carpentry. As Hatta notes, the numerous mistakes in the mantras suggest that the texts were copied by people who evidently did not know the Siddharp script very well, probably Shugendo adepts. 86 Rituallabor marked every phase of construction work. In a society where technology was not extremely developed, the construction of a building was more difficult than we think today, especially if we consider the architectural magnificence of temples and shrines. The carpenters attempted to reduce the unpredictable outcomes of construction work by invoking help from the deities or by preventing them from doing harm. An underlying idea of these rituals is that any construction is a violation of the cosmic order (the sacredness of space and time), and atonement must be performed to restore the broken harmony. 87 This is probably what enabled religious institutions to claim control over this kind of productive activity. To control and monopolize a productive activity, in fact, Buddhist and Shinto centers had first to show that there was an innately religious essence to it. Esoteric Buddhism, in particular in its combinatory ("Shinto") and Shugendo forms, had all the conceptual and ritual instruments to provide carpentry and other professional activities with a cosmological and soteriological foundation. Standard construction rites still performed in Japan today are modeled after those taking place at Ise Shrine. 88 This ritual model appears to have become widespread since the mid-Edo period, with the development of anti-Buddhist attitudes and Nativist movements. However, Shinto shrines (or more accurately, Shinto sections of combinatory temple-shrine

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complexes) were still performing construction rites with strong Buddhist influences well into the Edo period. For example, wooden planks inscribed on the occasion of the I776 restoration of the main hall of Sango Hachiman Shrine in present-day Wakayama Prefecture carry mantras written in Siddharp characters and Buddhist formulas. 89 Siddharp characters can also be found inscribed in planks from Nangii Taisha in present-day Gifu Prefecture dating to 1640-1642. 90 Until the late Edo period, in fact, various carpenter guilds were still performing rituals based on traditional honji suijaku religiosity. A particularly interesting and well-documented case is Miwa carpenters' rites. The Ritual Process of Construction Works A typical construction ritual from the Miwa Shin to- Buddhist documents consists of the purification of the performer; the delimitation of a sacred space (kekkai) where the carpenters were to work; the summoning of deities to protect the carpenters, their work, and the people hiring them; additional specific rituals for each phase of construction; and a final celebration for the completion of the work, in which deities were asked to preserve the building (and its household) for thousands of generations. Hatta Yukio suggests that these rituals were based on the set of esoteric Buddhist rituals known as juhachido (Eighteen Paths). 91 What follows is a selection of Miwa rituals for carpenters. 92 1. Ritual upon entering the atelier (koyairi no daiji): The deities involved are Kongosatta, Sakyamuni, Yakushi, heaven and earth, the sun and the moon, Dainichi, and the kami. 93 First, the officiant purifies himself and protects himself from contact with the divine by performing a ritual for the protection of the body (goshinho ), which culminates in his embodying Dainichi of the two mandala realms. The ritual mainly consists of mantra chanting and a final invocation to the kami asking them to eliminate all impurities. The "original essence" (honji) of the atelier is Kongosatta according to one text and both Sakyamuni and Yakushi according to another. 94 Either way, the honji imply wisdom, competence, and safety. Particularly important in this ritual is also the god Ame no Koyane. The labor of the carpenter is thereby presented as the activity of Dainichi and the pure work of the kami. 2. Ritual of the tool box (shosaikubako): The original essence is Sakyamuni but the main deity involved is Amida. The ritual consists in performing Amida's mudra facing the atelier and chanting Amida's mantra (OJ1Z amrta

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teje hara huttt) and in a final invocation to all buddhas and bodhisattvas to

grant the la borers all wishes in their present and future lives. The tool box is identified with the treasure house of buddhas and bodhisattvas, both in the sense of the Dharma Realm and of the Buddhist Canon, which fulfills the wishes of sentient beings. Another text calls this a pacification ritual (shizume no daiji). In this variant, the honji of the toolbox is Amida. After performing Amida's mudra and chanting Amida's mantra, the officiant turns his face toward the atelier, traces with a finger (atamayubi) the Sanskrit syllable hri~ (Amida's mantric seed), and sings a secret song to the kami, whose content is: "in accordance with the instructions from the kami, let's build the original capital city!" 95 3· Ritual for the beginning of work (chona hajime): The original essence is Jiiichimen Kannon, and the main deity involved is Bishamonten. This ritual is dedicated to the hatchet (chona) and takes place at the beginning of the year or at the inauguration of a new job site. It is focused on the hatchet, the tool used to cut trees, which is the very beginning of a carpenter's work. First, a sacred space (kekkai) is established. The inside is purified and protected from evil influences from the outside; one's mind and attitude are purified as a guarantee of good results. Mantras and mudras are performed. This ritual is further articulated in several steps. 4· Ritual of the square rule (sashigane): The original essence is Amida; deities involved are Amida and the kami. The officiant performs and chants Amida's mudra and mantra and draws with a finger Amida's seed syllable hrz~; he then intones an invocation to the kami, saying that what is to begin is the construction of the original capital city, the original residence of Amida. Finally, he bows to the square rule. Here, the square rule is understood as the key tool for construction, and the building itself is envisioned as Amida's palace in the Pure Land. 5· Ritual of the marker (sumisashi): 96 The original essence is Monju. His presence is invoked through a mantra and then a verse is read: "the three worlds are myself; all sentient beings living in them are my children." The implication is that work is conducted with a cosmic awareness of the interrelation of all things, a sense of cosmic duty and responsibility for all one's actions. 6. Ritual of the ink ruler (sumitsubo): 97 The original essence is Dainichi. The officiant performs mudras and chants mantras representing the Womb and the Vajra mandala realms. Then, pure water is poured in the ink stone.

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This water is to be visualized as the Lake without heat (Munetsuchi)-that is, the abode of the cosmic serpent Anavatapta (Anokudatsu Ryiio) located at the center of the southern continent of Jambudv!pa. As Hatta Yukio explains, water represents the Womb realm and symbolizes compassion; ink represents the Vajra realm and symbolizes wisdom; the resulting liquid ink is the ryogon sanmai, a contemplative state (samadhi) of complete unobstructedness. This was used to represent the undifferentiatedness of worker and his work as a way to ensure that carpenters took their measurements with the highest precision. We see here the use of religious and mystical images to encourage workers to precision and seriousness, a practice that is still present, albeit in different forms, in the training of contemporary Japanese workers. Finally, the carpenters, both masters (daiku) and apprentices (shoku), ritually exchange cups of sake and begin drawing the lines. 7· Ritual of the hatchet (chona or teono): The original essence is Senju Kannon. The officiant intones the verse: "because of delusion, the three worlds are a walled city; because of enlightenment, the ten directions are open and empty. Originally there is neither east nor west; where are north and south to be found?" This poem is perhaps meant to enhance the awareness that a building is not a mere enclosed space but the entire, open, and undifferentiated universe. 8. Ritual of the big ruler (shakujo ): The original essence is Suiten, the Indian water god Varul).a. The big ruler was associated with the kami ruling heaven and earth and was also called Dragon King (ryui5 ), which is not surprising, given the traditional connection between dragons, water, and chthonian deities. When correctly used, the big ruler enabled one to properly place the foundation stone-the basis of any solid building. Laying the foundation stone was called ryiibuse, "subjugation of the dragon." It required a specific ritual, which was the subject of secret initiation. This ritual signified the control over the cosmos, as indicated by the fact that the carpenter chanted the stanza supposedly uttered at birth by the Buddha: "I am the only venerable in heaven and earth," over space and time, as the carpenter in the ritual was particularly aware of the four directions associated to the four seasons, and over the chthonian deities represented by the dragon. 98 This ritual is a good example of the Buddhist appropriation of work as an activity transforming nature into culture and the profane into the sacred or, more accurately, to project the sacred into the everyday dimension of life. In this framework, a tool (the big ruler), its function (laying

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the foundation stone), cosmological notions related to that function, myths related to that tool and its functions, and deities are all mobilized and restructured into a complex macrosign. 9· Ritual of the foundation stone: The original essence is Yakushi. The ritual opens with an invocation to the earth gods, Amaterasu, and the Four Heavenly Kings (Shi Tenno), followed by chanting Yakushi's mantra, for the purpose of evoking the vital force of the tree used as a pillar for the building. A final invocation calls for harmony in heaven and earth and for the fulfillment of all one's wishes. Hatta suggests that Yakushi is probably invoked here to provide the pillar with health and strength. ro. Ritual for erecting the pillar (hashiradate no daiji): The original essence is Bishamonten, a deity who subjugates demons and employs them for beneficial purposes. The officiant performs mudras, chants mantras, and intones the following invocation to the kami: "may this sacred pillar of the kami stand erect for thousands and thousands of generations." Other texts offer a more detailed description of the ceremony. In particular, Bonten (Brahma), Indra (Taishakuten), and the Four Heavenly Generals (Zochoten, Komokuten, Bishamonten, and Jikokuten) are invited to descend to the spot; the officiant chants mantras and traces two magical drawings with his thumb, followed by the preceding invocation to the kami. 99 rr. Ritual for the construction of a house: It is constituted by several segments, many of which are full-fledged rituals in themselves. First, a purification and protection ceremony (goshinho) is held, after which the deities are summoned to the spot, and long life is wished for the family whose house is going to be built. This latter segment is called "ritual of the construction norito." The officiant then prays to the deities for peace in the entire universe and for the happiness of both owners and constructors; he also prays that the house to be built will stand up forever and that the family residing in it will also continue forever. 12. Rituals of completion (muneage no daiji): These are celebrated on the occasion of the completion of the roof of a shrine. Texts list the following segments: protection ritual (goshinho ), preparation and waving of the gohei wands, scattering of rice, and presentation of offerings. The officiant chants mantras and intones invocation to the kami of heaven and earth, to Brahma (Bonno), Siva (Jizaiten), and Amaterasu, celebrating the union of heaven and earth, the pure light of the sun and the moon, and the principle that plants, trees, and the territory all become buddhas. The sacred nature

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of the building is emphasized by the stanza: "Because of delusion, the three worlds are a walled city; because of enlightenment, the ten directions are empty. Originally there is neither east nor west; how can there be north and south?" The ceremony closes with a final invocation to the kami. 100 An example of the invocations intoned in this ritual shows the inextricable interconnection of Indian, Chinese, and Japanese religious imagery: Hail to the heavenly deities Dharma kings! Hail to the earthly deities Dharma kings! Hail to Brahma Dharma king! Hail to Indra Dharma king! Hail to Amaterasu, Whose shrine is where heaven and earth are in harmony! The sun and the moon shine bright, plants and trees, And the territory all become buddhas. All days are good [or The sun is good?], All nights [or stars?] are wise. The buddhas are powerful. The arhats have eliminated all impurities. Because of these sincere and true words, May this sacred hall be fortunate. 13. Ritual for the completion of a Buddhist temple: It differs from the previous ritual for Shinto shrines, indicating an awareness of doctrinal and functional differences. Rituals for Buddhist edifices included offerings, rites for the purification of the place, mantras and mudras to Dainichi of the two realms, an invocation to the three refuges, a praise to Sakyamuni, the intoning of the stanza just quoted emphasizing the cosmological nature of the building, other mantras, and a final invocation marked by the beat of the mallet: 101 "may this sound reverberate throughout the three times (i.e., past, present, and future) and make all beings become buddhas." 102

The Sacralization of Everyday Practices Miwa ritual documents also sacralized practices involving everyday objects and activities, thus presenting them as forms of interaction between humans and the invisible world of the deities. The texts contain rites to atone for killing beings, probably referring to cooking; for the kitchen knife (hocho ), for eating fish and animals; for leaving one's house (monshutsu no daiji), for when a horse does not want to move, for wading a river, for traveling by

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boat, 103 for water, for the elimination of fires, 104 to avoid black magic, and for the elimination of house impurities caused by death. 105 Some instructions were aimed specifically at women. 106 The beauty case (tebako) is a major focus of ritual attention. The mirror is Amaterasu's divine body; the beauty case itself is Kashima Daimyojin, the comb box is Aizen Myoo, the golden plate is Katori Daimyojin, and the golden brush is Sanno suijaku. 107 Sections on children include ritual instructions for the practice of penmanship (tenarai), for the ink stone (suzuri), for the brush (fude), and to heal smallpox (hoso ). 108 Other instructions concerned the mirror, the sewing needle, easy childbirth, obi sash, kitchen tools, the metal pot, and the custom of blackening one's teeth. In addition, there were rituals for difficult birth, the disposal of the placenta (ena), to become pregnant, 109 to make one's baby sleep at night, to be loved by everyone, and to stop menstruation on the occasion of visits to sacred places.11° A ritual for the elimination of house impurities caused by women's menstruation consisted in chanting the mantras ra1fl and va1fl for purification and hu1fl to attain enlightenment, envisioned here as the realization that one's five elements (i.e., the woman's body) are the shapes of the five generations of kami and that the five wisdoms and five Buddhas are the kami (shinmei) and, therefore, essentially pure. 111 The red and white powders used for makeup were interpreted on the basis of esoteric Buddhism. The mantric seed of the red makeup powder is hu1fl, described as a fusion of A and va1f1 (i.e., the male and female principles). The text stresses the association with Kashima Daimyojin, who is the principle of the female, red, and the flesh of sentient beings. The white makeup powder is described as the divine body of Katori Daimyojin and the male principle (associated with the bones and the semen). There is also a reference to shrine architecture, in which white and red colors represent these two deities and their sexual and bodily associationsY 2 Sexuality is another area that was highly ritualized during the Edo period. One text in particular, the Sanken itchisho by the Pure Land priest Dairyii (1595-1673), is especially interesting. It describes sex as a way to implement the Buddhist law of karma and rebirth and the kami's principle of production/reproduction. In sexual intercourse, the two cosmic principles (yin and yang) join, the five cosmic elements interact, and a baby is born; that is, a dead person is reincarnated. The Sanken itchisho operates a systematic correlation of the embryological phases of the fetus with the postmortem process of becoming a buddha (jobutsu), based on memorial

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rituals for the thirteen Buddhas. 113 In this way, sex was presented as essentially reproductive. Pleasure was not part of the picture; on the contrary, sexuality was another kind of labor, in which humans cooperated with the buddhas and the kami to increase population and productivity. We should also recall that the stages of the fetus development are described in the text as sanmaya objects (see Figure r.3). In other words, the cosmic process of production/reproduction is represented through a symbolic fluctuation between nonsentients and sentients.

Edo Period Buddhism, Nativism, and the Sacredness of Labor One of the most striking features of Edo period Buddhism is its this-worldly emphasis. Religious institutions were called upon by the Tokugawa government to collaborate in the surveillance and control of the populace, and most of them complied. Buddhist intellectuals also had to face an increasingly forceful critique against Buddhism from several different standpoints: Neo-Confucians, Nativists, new Shinto movements, scholars of Western disciplines, and independently minded intellectuals such as Tominaga Nakamoto and Yamagata Banto, among others, criticized Buddhism on several fronts. Buddhism's specificities were also diluted by the dominant rhetoric of the "identity of the three teachings," emphasizing that the ultimate goals of Buddhism were the same as those of Confucianism and Shinto. To cope with this unprecedented social and intellectual background, Buddhist authors began to restructure their teachings to adapt them to the Neo-Confucian matrix (also adopted by many influential Shinto theorists) that was becoming more and more popular at the time. This forced them to abandon Buddhism's transcendent dimension to concentrate on secular life in society. Authors such as Suzuki Shosan (1579-r6ss), Hakuin (I68s-n68), and Jiun Onko (I718-I8o4) were among the most representative Buddhist intellectuals of the time. Suzuki Shosan in particular proposed a new doctrine that combined the affirmation of the present reality typical of the discourse of original enlightenment (hongaku) with the NeoConfucian emphasis on moral, practical, and economic behavior in society. Suzuki argued that one's work is in itself a Buddhist activity (shokubun butsugyo). For example, he wrote that "agriculture is itself a Buddhist activity ... To be born as a peasant means to have been given by Heaven the

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duty to feed the world. Therefore, one should devote oneself completely to Heaven's Way; without thinking about one's own interests, one should carry out agriculture and produce the five cereals in order to perform correctly one's duties toward Heaven's Way ... " 114 The same ideas also applied to bushi warriors, craftspeople, and merchants. This secularized vision of the sacred was probably at the background of at least some of the professional rituals we have discussed so far. Religious devotion no longer belonged to a separate dimension of life as involving also a transcendent goal; religion became instead something that helps individuals accept their place in society and fulfill their duties toward it. The strategies and processes aimed at the sacralization of everyday life and productive activities, implemented by Buddhist and Shinto institutions in late medieval Japan on the basis of honji suijaku as a structural and ritual matrix, proved to be extraordinarily influential. They set the standard for subsequent analogous attempts, especially in the forms proposed by exponents of the Nativist tradition (kokugaku) in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Hirata Atsutane (1776-r843), for example, described work, and agriculture in particular, as a continuous interaction with the invisible world of the kami. The Nativists were mainly engaged in the construction of a new discourse through a systematic erasure of Buddhist traces from notions such as language, morality, nation, and economics as they had been developed by the medieval kenmitsu system. 115 For example, when Hirata Atsutane created an ideology of labor for the upper segments of the peasantry in the provinces-claiming that peasants were the mediators between the productive force of the kami (musubi), which operates in the Invisible World, and the production of material wealth in this world-he was using the late medieval honji suijaku understanding of the nature of wealth stripped of its Buddhist aspects. Sacralization of work was an attempt to turn culture into nature; as H. Harootunian puts it, "To reproduce in custom the act of creation, to 'imitate' the kami, was an intention endowed by the gods; therefore, it constituted a natural, not a cultural or historical, activity." 116 Work process was redefined as a collective act. Harootunian writes: By collective work, humans encountered these cosmic moments and saw themselves in a relationship to the deities, who were everywhere. They, the cosmos, and all the deities participated in a series of mutual transactions constituting the human plot; all things and objects were drawn into the

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orbit of life as totality to become living, animate participants in its events. Their participation in the plot was placed in the foreground, rather than serving as "background" or as a remote landscape separated from the locus of human activity. 117 Hirata's Nativism attempted to overcome the contemporary situation by proposing an atemporal, or archaic, model of collective labor that "fused humans and nature in a common undertaking." 118 In Harootunian's words, "Hirata's narrative sublated the differentiation between productivity (work), religion (worship-that is, repayment to the gods), and everyday life (custom) by unifying these activities in the body." 119 By focusing on everyday activities of ordinary people, such as work, but also "table manners, kinship relationship, and household duties," 120 Hirata and his followers were attempting to counter a growing sense of alienation of labor, and thus, this amounted to a criticism of contemporary society. However, Hirata's teachings were mainly directed to village leadership and peasantry and different from medieval and early modern ritual instructions for all professions. For Hirata, worship was a "total attitude that was disclosed in all activities from eating through work itself"; even consumption was "a form of religious devotion." 121 In his system, worship came to mean an exchange for products and things and thereby signified the "blessings" and "abundances" that this deity had made available to the ordinary people to carry on the job of living. Yet it was work that put people back into "nature" and established the modes of a natural social reproduction to transform the "gift" into actuality. Work made custom and a "historyless history" ... possible. 122 Here, we are dealing with an archaic economy, a mode of production that predates (ideally and ideologically) the formation of social classes. With his "acknowledged refusal to conceptualize the economic as a separate activity," 123 Hirata was trying to "dissolv[eJ the various forms of work into worship and the repayment of the gods." 124 Later authors followed Hirata and developed a cosmology of work based on ontological principles. 125 During the Edo period, Confucian, Nativist, and Neo-Shinto movements became increasingly popular and affected the ways in which people acted and thought about their acts. Buddhism (or perhaps I should say the more explicitly "Buddhist" side of the honji suijaku discourse) became less and less relevant for work and economic activities. The development of methods of self-cultivation that spread among artisans and merchants (the

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same social groups to which the Buddhist syncretic procedures discussed in this chapter were addressed) thanks to a number of religious movements during the Edo period also contributed significantly to the gradual erosion of Buddhist discourse from the public sphere of everyday reality. Selfcultivation was in part a Confucian appropriation of Buddhist domains (ranging from learning, self-awareness, and asceticism to general attitudes toward everyday activities), and in a sense, it represented an empowerment of the laity. 126 "Shinto" rituals had served until then essentially as a kind of anesthetic to enable the transformation of natural materials (envisioned as belonging to the kami) into Buddhist artifacts. This was particularly evident in the ritual processes accompanying the production of buddha images or the construction of a temple. By transforming raw materials into a buddha or into the site of Buddha's presence, Buddhist institutions gave concrete material manifestation to the idea of "becoming a buddha" (jobutsu). In particular, the kami were literally turned into buddhas when a log was sculpted into a buddha image. However, by the late Edo period, the transformation of nature into construction materials and buildings had come to be more and more envisioned as a process controlled exclusively by the kami and managed by ritual experts belonging to increasingly independent and assertive Shinto institutions. At that point, it was the kami, and their professionals, who made possible the construction of a temple, not the buddhas who made possible the transformation of a kami (or an object belonging to it). In other words, the shift of religious paradigm that occurs in the Edo period was inscribed in construction materials and related ritual practices as well.U 7

Modern Developments: Corporate Japan and the Sacred Nativist ideas on the sacredness of work were later used by Meiji ideologues, and more recently, they even seem to have influenced the new productive systems of Japanese companies. What remains of the sacralization of productive activities, once upon a time a key feature of Japanese Buddhism, is today more closely related to Shintoism, as in the well-known phenomenon of shrines belonging to commercial and industrial firms. As Ian Reader has indicated, "religious motifs, and especially the kami, are being utilised by contemporary business organisations and companies,

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many of which have 'turned to the gods' not so much in times of trouble but as a means of incorporating the socially bonding and production-orientated functions of religion, and especially Shinto, into their own ethos." 128 In particular, "Japanese companies and business concerns are well known for their efforts at creating harmony and cohesion." 129 It is "the kami and Shinto structures that are most widely eo-opted for the benefit of business concerns because of their traditional involvement with fertility, production, and the support of the community. This in turn perhaps reflects a tacit recognition in the Japanese commercial world of traditional views of causation: even the creation of wealth may need co-operation on the spiritual plane from the kami." 130 As we have seen, this kind of "traditional" vision focusing exclusively on the kami is not very old, being a consequence of the Nativist eradication of Buddhism from many aspects of everyday life, especially production. However, some companies still practice forms of religious syncretism that, even though they cannot be defined as manifestations of honji suijaku discourse, still testify to a remnant of the premodern intertwined presence of buddhas and kami in economic matters. For example, companies may have selected Inari as their tutelary deity but still have funeral sites and memorials for employees in Buddhist temples (particularly famous in this respect is the cemetery on Mt. Koya). Other companies, such as Mitsukoshi, worship both Buddhist and Shinto deities. For example, the Ginza Mitsukoshi department store has on its roof the Mitsui Shrine and a hall dedicated to Jizo (Ginza shusse Jizoson). 131 Still others, such as Matsuzakaya, worship one of the few honji suijaku deities still existing in Japan, Toyokawa Inari (whose main cultic center is the Soto Zen temple Kakumyogonji in Toyokawa near Nagoya). 132 Many companies "adopt ... religious institutions and forms to reinforce the sense of devoted discipline they seek from their employees." 133 In fact, the top management of Japanese companies seems to attribute an important role to religion not so much as a source of inspiration for business strategies but rather as a tool for the formation and management of employees.U 4 In this sense, there is no gap between religious ideals and business operations, as Ishii Kenji maintains.U 5 Rather, some "traditional," stereotypical religious ideas are used as ideological and ritual tools to enforce the management's will and inculcate in employees a certain culture based on corporatism, hierarchy, and "harmony" -much as in mystified visions of traditional village life.U 6 Religion again is part of a

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microphysics of power and strategies that associate welfare, peace of mind, and success with the respect of authority and hierarchy.

For a History of the Sacralization of Tools and Labor The set of narratives, practices, and ideas discussed thus far in this chapter developed over a long span of time (more than three centuries). They do not appear to have been masterminded by some unified institution; on the contrary, they developed, apparently independently of each other, within numerous social groups in various parts of the Japanese archipelago. In fact, religious rituals were performed by members of specific professions since ancient times and in some cases are still performed in parts of Japan.U7 However, it is possible to argue that the specific rituals and narratives sacralizing labor and everyday practices emerged within the dominant religious institutions (what Kuroda Toshio has defined as the "kenmitsu system") as the result of the convergence of a number of more or less independent factors, such as doctrinal developments, political and ideological decisions, folkloric traditions, social changes, and economic thought and practices. Shungendo constituted a possible common ground, but as an institution, it was far from unified and systematic even during the Edo period. Narratives and rituals concerning professional activities do not even seem to have always been imposed from the top down. It is possible that in some cases they were attempts by marginalized groups to assert their raison d'etre by appropriating forms and models of dominant discourse-the same discourse that lay at the basis of their marginalization. In this section, I attempt to trace some threads in a possible genealogy of such narratives and rituals carrying out the sacralization of everyday life. As we have seen, documents on the sacralization of labor and professional tools appear in the late Muromachi period and circulate until the end of the Edo period, but possible precedents can be identified dating back to the Heian period. Rituals for professions and their tools may have developed out of consecration ceremonies for ritual implements and religious objects such as buddha images. For example, already in the late Heian period, the cloistered Prince Shukaku (rrso-r2o2) describes the rituals accompanying the production of a buddha image out of a sacred tree, 138 which might be at the origin of later rituals for carpenters such as the chona hajime. Indeed, Prince Shukaku mentioned tools such as the hatchet

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(chona), chisel (nomi), and hammer (tsuchi). 139 Other religious rituals that might have influenced the development of professional rituals are those performed for the consecration of sacred buildings, such as temples (do kuyo) and pagodas (to kuyo ), and funeral monuments. Those rituals display a strong connection between the labor of craftspeople and the invisible world of the deities. It is quite possible that professional rites for carpenters developed out of them. Other rituals of a more quotidian nature were performed since the Heian period, such as those for easy and safe childbirth140 or to appease babies crying at night. 141 These rituals, with strong folkloric and Onmyodo components, were probably at the basis of later rituals for women and children. The sacredness of certain professional tools might have been derived from symbolic objects representing buddhas and bodhisattvas, such as Fudo Myoo, Kannon, and especially Daikokuten and his alter ego, Ebisu, who hold hammers, merchant's bags, and other profane paraphernalia. According to esoteric Buddhism, these symbolic objects (sanmayagyo) are a Iternative bodies of those deities and as such are endowed with magic and religious power. It is not difficult to see that power present in other tools of the same kind even though not directly connected with specific deities. In addition, premodern Japanese culture attributed magical powers to particular tools (especially swords); these tools had names often ending with the suffix -maru, often used in children's names. This naming is in itself an indication of liminality between the sacred and the profane and the human and the divine worlds. 142 The sacredness of trades and crafts is probably related to more general cultural contexts. For example, a text composed in the late Kamakura period, the Futsu shodoshu (1297), presents a detailed classification of arts and crafts (geino) divided into two main categories: the profane (seken) and the sacred (shusse). Among the profane crafts we find, in a top-to-bottom hierarchy, literati, bushi soldiers, poets, court musicians, physicians, di-

viners, astrologists, onmyoji, miko and kuchiyose female shamans, painters, sculptors, carpenters, ironsmiths, tile makers, tatami makers, prostitutes, sailors, koshoku (licentious people), shirabyoshi female entertainers, popular performers and musicians, merchants, and even gamblers (players of games such as bakuchi, go, shogi, and sugoroku). Among the sacred craftspeople, the text lists, in a bottom-to-top hierarchy, sutra chanters and preachers, nenbutsu chanters, shomyo performers, Siddham. masters,

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semipriests (hanso ), Zen priests, yamabushi, and fully ordained monks (Hosso, Sanron, Tendai, Kegon, Shingon). To each of these categories, the text assigns a formula for memorial services. 143 Previously, the same text had divided the spirits of the dead according to their profession and status in life. Profane (seken) status ranked from the emperor at the top down to women Buddhist practitioners (ubai); sacred (shusse) status went from high priest (soja) down to nuns and Zen priests (zenmon). Each category was assigned its own formulas for funerals and memorial services. 144 It is possible that the association of profession with memorial services later developed into professional religious rites, also in connection with the discursive continuity that the Futsu shodoshu presents among the various arts and crafts. In this respect, ceremonial protocols (saho) guiding the everyday life of monasteries might have become the template for secular rituals concerning the arts and crafts. In fact, authors have suggested that in premodern Japan, even secular arts and crafts had some specific relations with the sacred dimension of reality. Particularly important in this respect were professions dealing with life and death (sword makers and bushi, midwives, funeral specialists, etc.), with the transformation of matter/nature (iron smiths, carpenters, etc.), with performing arts (musicians, actors, prostitutes, etc.) as originally a sort of service industry to the deities, and with the production of wealth (merchants, gamblers, etc.). 145 On a different discursive thread, since the late Heian period, labor and productive activities were increasingly envisioned as forms of human interaction with the inhabitants of the invisible world of the Buddhist combinatory pantheon. For example, buddhas and kami together were actively present in landholdings and villages as protectors/punishers.146 In particular, the suijaku sides of the honji suijaku combination-that is, local deities (either pre-existing or newly invented)were treated as protectors of major temples. They intervened directly in worldly affairs by bestowing rewards on good servants (monks, managers, peasants) and by punishing their "enemies"-those who did not follow the directives issuing from the religious institutions involved. Interestingly, the honji sides of the combination-that is, buddhas and bodhisattvas-began to act in the same way as well: Kobo Daishi and the Great Buddha of the Todaiji are the best-known examples, but even the Buddha Amida and the Pure Land Patriarchs were believed to operate directly in the world in a similar manner. 147 Moreover, buddhas and kami also acted indirectly in this world through a sort of "sacred police" constituted by the so-called

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akuso ("evil monks") and jinin ("men of the kami") associated with the main temple-shrine complexes. Taxes and levies were often explained by religious authorities as offerings to the buddhas and the kami owning the land. For example, Chogen (rr2r-r2o6), the priest known for his successful fundraising for the reconstruction of the Todaiji, once stated: "the temple performs rituals (kito) for its estates (shoen), while the estates provide for the temple." 148 In other words, the duty of peasants is to provide offerings (i.e., wealth) to the buddhas in the temple, whereas the duty of the priests is to protect the harvest. Here, we see an explicit theory of a cycle of sacred economy. Agricultural loans acquired religious meaning when traditional practices of offering first produces (nie) to the kami and the emperor were appropriated by kenmitsu institutions such as Hie and Kumano and put in relation with their combinatory deities. Interests were called jobun no mai (superior portion of rice) or hatsuho (first ear of rice), the traditional names of agricultural offerings. 149 Agriculturallabor was presented as a salvation process. For example, the Gozo mandara waeshaku, a Shingon initiatory text of the thirteenth century, established esoteric correlations among seasons, agriculture, and salvation. A clear comparison is made in the text between the work of the farmer, the life of plants, the human cycle of suffering, and the five esoteric rituals. The farmers "sow in the spring, transplant the rice plants in the summer, harvest in the fall, and, after they have stored the rice in the storehouse, they have nothing left to do." Plants "grow in the spring, are assaulted by insects in the summer, their leaves turn red and are scattered by the tempest in the fall, and everything is still in winter." In addition, the text introduces two different cereal mandalas, including millet, soy, wheat (mugi), sesame, and rice and soy, barley, azuki beans, wheat, and rice, respectively. In both mandalas, rice is situated at the center, in the place of Dainichi Nyorai and enlightenment. 150 It is not surprising, then, that the Shingon priest Ban'a presented work in the fields as a meritorious deed determining rebirth into the Pure Land (and in contrast, refusal to work and to pay taxes as the cause for damnation in hell). 151 Finally, professional guilds (za) were usually affiliated with religious institutions and the imperial household. They were in charge of several ritual duties and obligations (presented again as offerings) in exchange for protection and local monopoly over their trade. We should also emphasize that many rituals involving the transformation of nature into cultural artifacts (tree and stonecutting, carpentry,

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production of religious images, etc.) mentioned Buddhist doctrines on nonsentients becoming buddhas; in fact, transformation of nature was a necessary prerequisite for the salvation of nonsentients. In this way, workers could envision their labor as a soteriological practice, as several documents explicitly admit. Professional tools (including household appliances) then became similar to the symbolic objects (sanmayagyo) that characterize Buddhist deities, as Shingon exegetes had argued (as discussed in Chapter r). Thus, a doctrinal and ritual matrix that was established in particular for religious specialists and producers of sacred objects was gradually expanded to encompass a number of secular activities. To sum up, we can hypothesize a gradual diffusion of religious models to secular everyday practices, in a paradoxical contrast with the increasing secularization of religious institutions, a phenomenon that was especially relevant during the Edo period.

Epilogue: Japanese Religion, Objects, and the Micropolitics of Everyday Life One of the strategies to ensure control over the territory and the peoplewhat is usually called the "diffusion of Buddhism"-adopted by virtually every religious institution in medieval Japan consisted of transforming everyday activities into soteriological practices. Agriculture, hunting and fishing, trade, and professional activities within temple lands, among other things, were sacralized and described as instances of ritual interaction with the "invisible world" of buddhas and kami. Once sacralized, productive activities were directly connected with soteriology and the acquisition of karmic benefits. Thus, everything could be explained in Buddhist terms, and one of the key elements of Buddhism throughout premodern Japan was the honji suijaku logic in its various forms. Religious institutions and their members became "masters of signs." They controlled the production and the circulation of "official" meaning and were able to establish and authorize habits and forms of behavior. Work was envisioned as a projection of the cosmic activity of the buddhas and local activities of the kami onto a smaller plane, that of a particular building or household-a sort of microsoteriology, a microphysics of salvation with all its micropolitical effects. These rituals were informed by and displayed all of the constituting features of the honji suijaku para-

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digm, which was based on the dominant Buddhist visions concerning cosmology, epistemology, semiotics, soteriology, and social ideology. In this respect, the documents discussed in this chapter and their related intertexts probably played the additional function of spreading knowledge of esoteric notions, rituals, and deities, the result of which would have been the formation of a special category of people unofficially initiated to the secrets of the Shingon and Shugendo traditions. This projection of the sacred realm onto the profane, everyday dimension of reality required particular attention to be given to material stuff (construction material, tools, ritual implements) and its utilization (labor). These texts present one's individuallabor and everyday activities (most of which employed various kinds of material artifacts) as a form of selfcultivation through the study and the practice of Shinto, Buddhism (mostly Mikkyo but in some cases also Zen), and Shugendo rituals and doctrines. In fact, through work, one could attain a sort of enlightenment based on the imitation of the deeds of buddhas and kami. The task of the carpenter was to re-create in this world the realm of the deities of which his tools were manifestations; a good piece of work was the result of the carpenter's successful communication with the realm of the deities. Analogously, merchants and other professionals displayed notions of the sacred in their trade. These texts contain numerous doctrinal fragments, such as "plants and trees become buddhas" (somoku jobutsu); "heaven and earth have the same root; all things are one substance" 152 ; all space is empty, kami and sentient beings (shujo) are mutually interrelated 153 ; references to primordial chaos ("all sentient beings before the separation of chaos" 154 ); and myths of various kinds. Hatta Yukio simplistically suggests that all this was the manifestation of the devotion of "docile and obedient" (sunao) artisans, who tried to unite their faith with love for their job.l5 5 Hatta even sees in this attitude a manifestation of the same spirit described by Weber in his book on Protestantism and the spirit of capitalism. In fact, we can observe in the texts discussed in this chapter a systematic fetishization of tools and labor processes. Workers are not merely working, but they are participating in a cosmic operation in collaboration with the deities of the Buddhist combinatory pantheon. We can perhaps see in this an attempt to "un-alienate" and re-enchant labor, especially at a time of social and economic transformations toward a mature form of capitalistic economy.

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Did these texts serve to reproduce false conscience, or were they attempts to take control over production in spite of the general trends toward increasing alienation in contemporary society? When we consider the historical processes related to the sacralization of productive activities, we see the attempt of religious institutions to permeate with their ideology all spaces in the public and private spheres. There is probably no way to know whether the carpenters who performed these rituals were conscious of being engaged in a religious act that would have turned them into living buddhas and creators of paradise on earth or whether they did it just out of duty. Actually, we do not know whether they performed these rituals at all. If they did, it is possible that they performed them as marks of distinction of their lineage and their profession without any direct (or strong) religious connotation. Be that as it may, what matters here is that their profession was described and conceptualized in religious terms. In fact, the appearance and the transmission of these documents and ritual practices since the late Muromachi period, and especially in the Edo period, can be explained in a number of different ways not necessarily incompatible with each other. In spite of a lack of earlier evidence, similar documents may have existed before, or on the contrary, they may be a late medieval-early modern phenomenon. Implementing their increasing social influence (and also, perhaps, as an answer to their perceived loss of symbolic power since the mid-Tokugawa period), religious institutions carried out a systematic sacralization of everyday life as an attempt to reconfigure their arena of intervention in society. Production, divided into the two subfields of labor and sexuality (reproduction), was the main area of intervention. However, these documents could also be symptoms of a more general social phenomenon. The loss of sacred aura surrounding arts and crafts professional groups (geinomin or shokunin) after the Nanbokucho era (early fourteenth century), as described by Amino Yoshihiko, forced these people to express their sacrality in explicit terms by authoring honjimono narratives about themselves and their tools and by editing ritual procedures turning their work into a sacred performance. It is also possible that, to protect their autonomy threatened by competing warlords and regional feudal authorities, professional groups had emphasized their intrinsically ultramundane nature in these texts and rituals. In other words, these documents and rituals could be instances of a top-down attempt to control and regiment society and productive activities

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in particular. Or they could be a bottom-up appropriation of dominant discursive strategies as an attempt to stress the autonomy and peculiarities of professional categories in decline. In any case, what matters here is that their expressions were part of the dominant Buddhist discourse concerning materiality in general. To conclude, we can identify several continuities and discontinuities in the connections between religion, materiality (including economics), and social ideology in Japanese culture. Labor is cast as a transformation of nature, and reality is connected to the realm of the sacred and presupposes the intervention of the deities. Wealth is described as something that comes from the Invisible Realm as retribution for a certain behavior, usually connected with the maintenance of established order. These approaches explain today's corporate religious rituals performed to the kami (and in fewer cases, to some Buddhist deities, mainly, Fudo Myoo). Social order, as it is represented in everyday practices and productive activities in particular, is always described as a manifestation of the sacred order of the Invisible Realm. This is done not just in purely abstract or theological terms; sacredness was directly inscribed in the objects, the actions, and the bodies of the people who used them and affected them not only in the festive and sporadic moments of ritual but in virtually all aspects of their everyday lives. Religious institutions attempted to control all aspects of life by marking them with the concrete symbols (objects) of the deities. Ideally, at least, all actions and thoughts had to conform to some ritual protocol invoking deities. I mentioned earlier the extensive and capillary microphysics of power attempted by such ritualization-a microphysics of power that was at least in part directly connected to the efforts of the religious institutions to ensure a solid impact on people-especially during the Edo period under the supervision of the Tokugawa regime. The late Muromachi and Edo periods are usually described as times of degeneration for Buddhism, but they were actually the moments in which Buddhism was most powerful because it pervaded virtually all aspects of everyday life, from class structure and organization, to visions of the territory, down to each individual's objects and actions. In premodern Japan, sacralization of everyday life and related connections between religion, materiality, and ideology were largely based on Buddhism. (In early modern Japan and, more drastically, after the

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Meiji persecutions and restructurings of the cultural and religious fields, the religious-ideological-economic complex was stripped of its most visible Buddhist elements, and materiality was also conceived of in different terms.) Such sacralization of the everyday ended up by empowering its practitioners even against the intentions of religious institutions. If the sacred could be found everywhere and in every action, it did not require an extensive intervention of religious specialists; religious institutions had become de facto irrelevant. In this way, the moment of the most massive presence of religious institutions in the life of the Japanese coincided paradoxically with the beginning of secularization. The disaffection of modern Japanese people with religious institutions probably began at this time. As a response to the latter point, Buddhist institutions kept revising their interpretations of materiality to adapt them to the new social developments. Attitudes toward objects, tools, and sacred entities kept changing, as we will see in the next chapter. However, a defining feature of Japanese Buddhism remains its particular treatment of material entities as both embodiments of the sacred and tools for salvation. Material objects tend to be envisioned as either part of the mandala or as embodiments of a transcendent Buddha. As components of the supreme reality, objects are in some ways endowed with mind and therefore participate in Buddhist religious activities (they can provide magical power, worldly benefits, and even contribute to salvation). The use of objects and the transformation of the material environment of sentient beings-any kind of labor and human activity-could thus be understood as intrinsically endowed with religious value as a manipulation of sacred entities and substances. It is not surprising, then, that a discourse on the sacredness of labor and professional tools, accompanied by ritual practices, developed within Japanese Buddhism. This discourse and these practices were more or less directly connected with the Buddhist philosophy of objects and the ideological import of materiality. In the next chapter, I will investigate a number of ritual procedures concerned with the memorialization of objects that shed further light on Buddhist ideas of materiality, in particular on the interplay of animate and inanimate and the cultural significance of these two broad categories.

a OBJECTS, RITUALS, TRADITION: MEMORIAL SERVICES (KUYO) FOR INANIMATE OBJECTS

The vast and fluid field of memorial services is arguably one of the most significant social and cultural contributions of Buddhism in contemporary Japan. Memorial services are commonly called kuyo. This Buddhist term, meaning literally "to give offerings to nourish," is a translation of the Sanskrit pujii, which in Indian Buddhism originally referred to rituals and acts of worship to express respect for the Buddha, the Dharma, the Sarpgha, parents, masters, and the dead. Traditionally, kuyo refers to a set of rituals dealing with either the end of beings (death) or the beginning of new sacred entities. An important aspect of kuyo rituals consists in giving offerings to beings and things that could affect the salvation of the donor. Funerals, together with prayers and rites for happiness in the afterlife of the dead members of the family (tsuizen kuyo ), are obviously the most important memorial services in Japan. 1 However, we also find rites for those dead who, owing to the neglect of their families, have turned into "hungry ghosts" (segaki kuyo). Over the centuries, Buddhist temples (and more recently, also Shinto shrines) have developed a vast range of such rituals addressed not only to deceased human beings; among the kuyo celebrating the beginning of new sacred entities, there are rituals celebrating new statues (kaigen kuyo ), copies of the scriptures (kyo kuyo ), and temple bells (kane kuyo ). 211

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Since the r96os, new rituals developed for the pacification of the souls of aborted fetuses (mizuko kuyo ); other forms of kuyo are dedicated to animals and to plants. 2 There are also memorial services for certain inanimate objects, which are the specific focus of this chapter. Originally, kuyo rituals were the primary form of Buddhist merit making. Although merit usually functions as what Melford Spiro calls "kammatic" Buddhism, especially in the esoteric tradition, it is not infrequent to find statements attributing to merit the capacity to generate some form of magical power (thus placing it in the "apotropaic" dimension of Buddhism). However, we will see in the course of this chapter that the Buddhist concept of merit alone is not enough to explain the meaning of modern forms of memorialization, especially those performed for inanimate objects.

A Vast and Fluid Field The list of objects memorialized in Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines in Japan is vast and growing. It includes blind people's canes, dancers' fans, carving knives, sewing needles, tea bowls and whisks (chasen), dolls, old brassieres, bicycles, writing brushes, amulets, printing blocks, old clocks, chopsticks, eyeglasses, umbrellas, geta sandals, name seals (inkan), old letters, peasants' straw coats (mino) and hats (kasa), scissors, watches, phonograph records and COs, postcards, and even old computers and software. 3 Memorial services are organized by religious institutions, professional organizations, or both in cooperation; these ceremonies are important attempts for religious institutions to restore a direct relation with people (and possible patrons). 4 In addition, many temples and shrines throughout Japan collect objects with high symbolic significance (pictures, ritual objects, dolls, etc.), bless them, and dispose of them in a ritual way sometimes involving a pyre. Despite their apparently marginal importance, a critical study of memorial services for objects can shed light on a wide range of issues, such as the functions of religious rituals and shifting images of tradition in contemporary Japan. Interestingly, all these themes appear to be defined in relation to specific objects and their uses-a fact that gives us an important clue for understanding the role of objects in Japanese culture. One of the oldest and most famous memorial services for objects, originally a women's practice, is the one dedicated to needles (hari kuyo ). On February 8 of every year, 5 women, and seamstresses in particular, take old

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and broken needles (the tools of their trade) to a Buddhist temple or a Shinto shrine, the most representative of which is Awashimado at Sensoji, Tokyo. 6 In the central part of the ritual, The women pray that these needles may now enter into a deserved Buddhahood. There in the temple or shrine they pass these through a block of bean curd [tofu]. In effect they say: "You needles have spent your lives doing hard work. You unstintingly gave of yourself by again and again going through pieces of cotton cloth-even suffering in such labors. Now lie down on this mattress of bean curd and take your rest." In this way the women humanize their treatment of even a piece of metal? Instead of tofu (bean curd), sometimes needles are placed to rest in a piece of konnyaku, a jellylike vegetal food. As an alternative ritual form, needles are wrapped in paper and floated away in rivers. In principle, all kinds of needles are memorialized, including those for acupuncture, tattooing, and injections, for tatami making, and even fishermen's hooks. Lately, however, considerations of public hygiene have reduced or controlled the memorialization of needles that have been in contact with human blood. Methods for disposing of memorialized objects vary; the two dominant forms are burial and cremation, but in some cases, objects are floated away on rivers or in the sea. In the case of dolls, recently there have been significant attempts to promote recycling. According to data collected in the late 1990s, Kada Awashima Shrine in Wakayama, where an old and famous ceremony for the disposal of dolls is held, receives about 3oo,ooo dolls every year for ritual treatment; the sheer amount makes ritual disposal difficult. Thus, the shrine has recently begun to donate dolls in good condition to children's charities upon approval from the donors and after holding a purification ritual. 8 Certain kuyo are held in places where used objects are buried in a sort of funerary mound, such as the shrine dedicated to Sugawara no Michizane near Fukuoka, Kyushu, where carving knives are entombed. In this case, notes Asquith, the memorial mound and annual service have distinct, though complementary, roles ... At the mound, the knives used by chefs were buried to express the chefs' gratitude for their long service. The mound is also intended to console the spirits of birds, animals, fish and vegetables that the knives have carved up. However, the annual service is performed by the way of prayers for the happiness of the chefs and all who benefit from the blessing of the knives. 9

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Similar mounds called fudezuka are used to commemorate writing brushes (fude) used by calligraphers. 10 In some cases, the brushes are burned before entombment in the mound. 11 Other examples of kuyo, especially those performed in Shingon temples, focus primarily on the ritual destruction/purification of memorialized objects. One of the classic rites of this type is the memorial service for dolls (ningyo kuyo ). Ian Reader describes one of the most famous of them as follows: The service for the dolls is held annually on 17 September at Osu Kannon temple in Nagoya, sponsored by a number of doll-makers' unions and organisations: people bring along their discarded dolls which are ritually burnt by the temple priests after they have performed a memorial service for their souls ... [T]he chief lay-participant ... stat[ed]: "These dolls have always lived with us, and now, through this memorial service they will be able to attain Buddhahood peacefully." 12 Another Shingon temple, Rennoji in Kosugi, Toyama Prefecture, set up a Web page to advertise its own service for dollsY Pictures of the ceremony show a large space in front of the altar in which thousands of dolls of all kinds, from traditional kokeshi and o-hinasama to teddy bears and characters of Anime cartoons, have been gathered, awaiting the priest's blessings and the final fire sacrifice. A more specialized variant of this ritual (Daruma kuyo) deals with Daruma dolls, stylized reproductions of the head of Bodhidharma, the mythical founder of the Zen tradition; these dolls are believed to grant wishes. At the beginning of the new year, old Daruma dolls are taken to a temple, where they are blessed and burnt. 14 Dolls are memorialized for several reasons. The most common form of ningyo kuyo today enacts the detachment of what in practice are old toys, but dolls can also serve as offerings to a deity when praying for child conception and children protection and as doubles ("alternative bodies," bunshin, or "replacement bodies," migawari) or talismans for the protection of children from illness and evil influences. These cultic aspects of memorial rituals for dolls are still present in the ceremonies performed at the Kiyomizu Kannondo in the Kan'eiji temple in Ueno, Tokyo. The main icon is Senju Kannon, a secret buddha (hibutsu) on display once a year in February; at her sides are two smaller Kannon images, one in charge of child conception (kosazukari) and the other of child raising (kosodate). Women whose wish to have a baby has been fulfilled bring a doll to the temple as an

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offering; this doll is supposed to function as a substitute body (migawari) protecting the child. Those dolls used to be stored at the temple. In this case, dolls are envisioned as particular entities situated on the boundary between living beings (babies) and inanimate matter (toys)Y However, after World War 11, people began to bring to the temple dolls they no longer needed but found difficult to simply throw away; the priests used to perform a nonpublic kuyo for those dolls. It was only in 1958 that the Tokyo Association of Toy and Doll Shopkeepers sponsored the first public memorial service for dolls. 16 In this case, we see how old cults involving memorialization of objects changed in a comparatively short time and acquired a different significance. Several other objects are disposed of in a similar manner. Bamboo tea whisks (chasen) used in tea ceremonies "are presented to the altar [of a Buddhist temple], addressed with words of thanks and appreciation for their good service, and then ritually burned-a kind of Buddhist 'cremation' of a tea whisk." 17 Printing blocks are sometimes treated in the same way: The service for printing blocks was held at a temple in Kyoto in September 1987 under the auspices of the Kyoto Advertisers Social Society (Kyoto hokoku konwakai), an organisation uniting printing and advertising firms. Prayers were said and thanks were given to the blocks (which had been used to print advertisements and the like) prior to their being immolated ... [T]he head priest ... [said]: "In Buddhism all life may attain Buddhahood: printing blocks also possess life and so can attain Buddhahood." 18 Here, we find a significant reference to Buddhist doctrines on the Buddhahood of nonsentients discussed in Chapter I. At times, these rituals may take rather eccentric forms. In the early 198os, "in the Zojo-ji temple in Tokyo, words of thanks were intoned to a collection of 2oo,ooo brassieres that had been collected from their owners. Before these items of intimate apparel were properly cremated, the chorus of the Yokohama City University gave a rendition of Mozart's 'Ave Verum Corpus.'" 19 An important part of all these rituals is the chanting of Buddhist scriptures, usually the Heart Sutra, the Kannon Sutra, and the Rishukyo (Liqu jing) in the case of Shingon. 20 Especially when compared to this ritual, the simplicity of the kuyo for needles described earlier and the fact that it is performed in either Buddhist temples or Shinto shrines (particularly famous are a shrine dedicated to Awashima Myojin in Wakayama Prefecture and a branch temple of

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Sensoji in Tokyo) suggest for the latter a possible folkloric origin. On the other hand, many of these rituals (in particular, memorial immolations) seem to be adaptations of pre-existing ritual forms dealing with death and sacrifice-funerals in the former case and goma fire rituals in the latter. It is also possible to detect an intriguing parallelism between forms of memorialization of objects and human entombment: simple disposal of the corpses after a simple ceremony, more elaborate funerals, cremation, and the construction of burial mounds. It should be noted, however, that not all temples and shrines performing memorial services for exhausted objects actually carry out the objects' ritual destruction. Recent regulations based on environmental and public health concerns limit the burning of objects made of plastic and other material in densely populated areas because the burning might release dioxin and other harmful substances. As a consequence, objects are blessed, "deactivated" as it were, and then disposed of as ordinary rubbish. Religious symbolism has to coexist and, in many cases, subject itself to secular concerns and regulations.

Memorial Service as Sacrifice From all these examples, it is possible to identify some common patterns among various forms of memorial services. These rituals are not individual and private but public and communal, involving numerous participants. They are organized by temples, companies, business organizations, or a combination thereof; some show strong tourist and commercial components. 21 In general, the objects memorialized in these rituals are commodities, usually professional tools or toys, commercial objects purchased by their owners because of their use- and/or sign-value. However, it should be noted that these objects are old commodities that have exhausted their functionality. To put it bluntly, these objects are "junk" as defined by Michael Thompson. 22 Memorial rituals thus serve to sanction the demise of these objects. These rituals range from simple rituals of gratitude, as in the needle kuyo and in such services performed by Jodo Shinshii priests (who do not consider these rituals to be funerals), 23 to forms of funerals, as in the Zen form of the ritual, and to fire sacrifice. And as we have seen, some memorial services effect directly, publicly, and at times spectacularly the destruction of their objects. In an important sense, kuyo are rituals for the religious destruction of exhausted commodities; it is thus relevant to dis-

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cuss the sacrificial nature of memorial services, especially those that focus on the cremation of their objects. Even when they are not officially defined as goma fire rituals, ceremonies such as the doll memorial described earlier, especially when performed in Shingon temples, do present an explicit sacrificial nature. Coma (Sk. homa) refers to fire sacrifices offered to the buddhas to achieve a certain goal. The ritual employs altars of various kinds in correspondence to the objective of the rite. The officiant summons a deity, usually Fudo Myoo, to the altar and asks him to grant the requests. Then, special wooden sticks (gomagi) are burned in the sacrificial fire together with offerings (cereals, incense, etc.) to realize the wish of the requestor. The wish is written on wood or on paper (gomafuda), and after the ritual, it is used by the requestor as a talisman. 24 It has been noted that goma rituals employed in memorial services for inanimate objects are not standard Shingon goma but are similar to the saito goma of Shugendo; thus, they function as merit-making (tsuizen kuyo) rituals rather than as real funerals. 25 Broadly speaking, goma rituals are of two types. The first is a sacrifice to the gods, in which the entire universe is ideally immolated to purify and transform it. 26 The second form of goma is a rite in which impure objects are destroyed to be purified and transferred to the invisible realm of the buddhas. 27 Both aspects are present in Shingon memorial services for objects. Used, profane commodities, impure objects are destroyed in the holiest way-they are sacrificed and offered to the buddhas. As Hubert and Mauss explained in their classic work, sacrifice establishes a relationship between those involved and a transcendent or divine world; through the intervention of the officiant, objects and their owners are put in contact with the sacred. 28 By burning in the sacred fire, objects undergo a metamorphosis that enables them to escape this world's conditioned reality and reach the invisible realm of the buddhas, 29 and thereupon, all participants receive spiritual and material benefits. Such ritual interaction with specific entities of the Buddhist pantheon is known in Shingon doctrines as kaji (Sk. adhi~thana); usually translated as "empowerment," it supposedly gives the officiant a particular "magical" power. This power can be employed to purify religious objects and material entities, such as offerings (kumotsu kaji), rosaries (nenju kaji), and sanctified water (kosui kaji). The term kaji is also used as a synonym of kito, a class of prayers and magical rites performed for a wide selection of goals, such

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as the elimination of the sins of the dead (through the use of "empowered" sand, dosha kaji), healing (byonin kaji), or safe childbirth (through "empowerment" of a special sash, obi kaji). In this particular case, the transformative power of kaji turns objects into manifestations (or "alternative bodies," bunshin) of buddhas, and kaji is one of the proper terms used by the Shingon tradition to refer to memorial services for inanimate objects. 30 Daniel Miller writes that from a materialist or skeptical perspective, [sacrifice) might also be viewed as a primary means by which humanity constitutes and reproduces its sense of the transcendent. By purporting to be in relation to the divine we most efficiently give testament to its existence ... Sacrifice therefore can be held to constitute objects of devotion as well as communicate with them. 31 This is one of the performative functions of ritualization, which in general serves to constitute and display power relations and forms of subjectivity. 32 In our case, the temples try to present a form of the sacred that is more directly connected to the everyday life of people in contemporary Japan by drawing on traditional rituals (e.g., funerals and sacrifice) and doctrines (inanimate objects becoming buddhas, effects of the rituals) applied to contemporary situations. Let us now turn our attention to the doctrinal content of the memorial services for objects.

The Soul of Things As we have seen, these rituals are often performed so that objects can literally "become buddhas" (jobutsu), the term usually employed to refer to the final transformation of human beings after their death and after proper funeral memorialization. 33 If objects can become buddhas, what is their ontological status? Are they actually animate? Do they have a soul? If so, what kind of soul? Unsurprisingly, there is no agreement among the parties involved in the rituals regarding the answers to such questions. Even though there is no extensive sociological research on the beliefs and the rationalizations of the participants in these rituals, it is possible to identify a spectrum of opinions about the animated nature of objects, such as agnosticism, denial, partial recognition, and complete recognition, by drawing on interpretations provided both by priests performing these rituals and scholars studying them. 34 Agnosticism on the matter is expressed by a priest of the Jodo Shinshii tradition I interviewed. He said that his tradition is concerned

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with how human beings should live their lives in this world and therefore does not indulge in speculations on issues that cannot be ascertained, such as whether objects have a soul or not. 35 A wide range of positions can be found even within the same Buddhist denomination. A Shingon priest I interviewed said he did not believe that objects have souls; these rituals are performed solely for the comfort of the participants, and "becoming a buddha" is used for objects in a purely figurative sense. A case of partial recognition of the animated nature of objects is offered by Pamela Asquith. She reports that Shingon priests on Mt. Koya explained to her that "[o]bjects ... have no intrinsic souls" (the word they use for "soul" is kokoro, "heart/mind"); according to them, "it is the human kokoro, or part of it, that enters the object from long association with it. Thus when, for example, writing brushes are burned in the fude kuyo (service for writing brushes), presumably to release their spirit, it is a part of the human spirit that is released, having become the 'possession' of the object." 36 As for the position asserting the animate nature of objects, another Shingon priest told me that since antiquity people have believed that things have a soul, especially things that have been used and cherished for many years. In Buddhological terms, this belief is scripturally grounded. As we saw in Chapter r, objects have a soul-mind (kokoro) because they are made of the same substance as Mahavairocana (Dainichi Nyorai), the cosmic Buddha of esoteric Buddhism. However, the soul of objects is different from that of human beings, and thus, humans cannot have knowledge of it. 37 This difference seems to stem from an epistemological inadequacy of unenlightened human beings. From the absolute and unconditioned standpoint of Mahavairocana, in fact, all things are the same. The same priest added that, given such human limitations, it is impossible to know the proper way to make objects become buddhas. There even is the possibility that current rituals are not the correct ones. Shingon rituals such as kaji and kuyo, originally devised for humans beings, however, are the only rites available to us and cannot be wrong; thus, they are employed-almost inferentially, hypothetically, one could say-in the memorialization of objects as well. 38 A similar position is expressed in a poem written on a memorial monument for dolls at Osu Kannon Temple in Nagoya: Dolls have human form; when dolls lose such form they become buddhas.

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The performance of memorial services for their becoming buddhas is a manifestation of humans' fondness for and attachment to dolls. 39 Memorial services seem to be effective for dolls by analogy-as human beings become buddhas when they lose their human form, so do dolls. It is also interesting to note that memorial services are presented here as expressions not of human detachment-a Buddhist virtue essential to attain liberation-but of human attachment (aichaku) to dolls. In classical Buddhist philosophy, attachment is a negative passion or affliction (bonno ), one of the main sources of suffering. Here, in contrast, attachment becomes the cause of memorial services (merit-making activities) and, as a consequence, of the dolls' becoming buddhas (salvation). In its reversal of common Buddhist beliefs and its celebration of the soteriological role of negative passions such as attachment, the poem inscribed on the memorial monument for dolls at the Osu Kannon Temple reveals a Tantric matrix, also evident in the sacrificial fire performed by the temple in which dolls are immolated and sanctified. Predictably, scholarship also offers a wide range of contrasting interpretations. Even though authors often present these rituals as manifestations of an ancestral animism that supposedly still pervades the Japanese mentality even today, their actual interpretations of the "life" of objects are quite different. Umesao Tadao indicates "pantheistic animism" as one of the central features of Japanese culture. 40 In a survey taken in the early 1990s, to the question "Ancient people felt the presence of a god in many things ... and worshiped those gods; do you think you understand such a feeling well or not?" 75% of the people polled responded, "I feel that I understand it well." 41 There are several problems with this survey: an overall ahistorical attitude (Who are these "ancient people"? In what age and in what cultural contexts did they live? What were their concerns?), which generates a sense of continuity and unchanging stability, an emphasis on feeling (kanjiru, kimochi, ki ga suru) that prevents interviewees from engaging in theoretical or critical reflections, and a sense of Japanese cultural identity already embedded in the question. 42 Among scholars who have studied memorial services for objects, the most unnuanced position is perhaps that of ethnologist Miyata Noboru, according to whom these ceremonies are based on the belief that old objects have a spirit (seirei). Miyata also thinks that people believe that if objects

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are disposed of without proper ritual action (memorialization qua pacification), the spirits of things could turn into ghosts (yokai) and take revenge on human beings through curses (tatari). 43 As Tanaka Sen'ichi argues, rituals to dispose of objects that are no longer necessary are not simply expressions of gratitude but constitute ways to extract some form of spiritual entity from those objects to prevent the activation of its power. 44 Miyata Noboru found symbolic relations between ceremonies to bring a spiritual entity into new tools and ceremonies to extract it on the one hand and rituals for the celebration of things (matsuriage) and rituals for their disposal (matsurisute) on the other. For Miyata, these rituals are related to beliefs in ghosts of objects such as the tsukumogami (the protagonists of certain tales dating back to the Muromachi period discussed later) and, at the same time, to the sacralization of professional tools. 45 I would like to point out that Miyata's interpretation is inaccurate for at least two reasons. He assumes a uniformity of belief in contemporary participants that seems to be largely fictitious and ignores the importance of historical change. Furthermore, the fear of a curse (tatari), although apparently present in some participants (as reported also by Pamela Asquith and Angelika Kretschmer), does not seem to be an essential factor in the case of many objects. 46 On the opposite pole of the interpretive spectrum is William LaFleur, according to whom Japanese "perform services of kuyo for clearly inanimate objects that have been part of their lives in some especially intimate way ... such objects are personalized and then ritually induced into a state of 'ease.'" 47 To put it in a different way, "many Japanese are concerned to state through ritual that even inanimate objects like needles and chopsticks are 'humanizable' so as to express the intimacy of our relationship to them." 48 For LaFleur, "[t]here is not the slightest suggestion that the participants feel there is something slightly wrong or unseemly about their daily 'use' of needles, brassieres, and tea whisks." Still, rituals tell people about their behavior as consumers: "such clearly inanimate objects are being thanked as part of a self-reminder that even 'things' are not to be heedlessly or wastefully used." 49 If LaFleur is correct, we are not confronted here with a case of animism but of ways of dealing with objects involving sentiments of care, consideration, decorum, propriety, and economic considerations also involving rejection of wasteful behavior. People's "intimacy" with objects expressed through ritual destruction brings to mind Georges Bataille and his theory of sacrifice, also in connection to our

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previous considerations about kuyi5 sacrificial fires. According to Bataille, sacrifice releases objects from their "thinghood" and liberates human beings from reification produced by their attachment to objects. 50 This leads us to the issue of the status of commodities and human relations with them in contemporary Japan, a subject I will address in Chapter 7· Ian Reader and Komatsu Kazuhiko propose a view we could define as "weak animism." Both are attentive to the cultural imaginary about objects in Japan and use it to explain people's attitudes toward the supposed presence of "soul" in memorialized things. Reader thinks that, for those involved in these memorial rituals, objects are not just "things" to be used and discarded with impunity: they contribute their "life" to the present world and recognition should be made of this. This animistic view of the world places obligations on those who live in it: while human life is at the centre of the universe, it is not something that can be lived unthinkingly ... This does not prevent it from being exploitative when necessary for the benefit of the living: ... the dolls are still discarded. 51 In what Reader calls the Japanese "animistic view of the world," objects are not "alive"; they simply contribute to the fullness of human life. Here, "animism" is not a residue of an archaic form of religiosity, as Miyata Noboru suggests, but rather consists in recognizing the role of objects as constitutive of the human world as it is. This vision is not too distant from Jean Baudrillard's descriptions of what he calls the "system of objects," 52 with one notable difference: the latter has no room for memorialization and feelings of gratitude toward the commodities we use. Komatsu Kazuhiko argues that at the basis of Buddhist memorial services for objects is a continuing belief that objects possess some sort of spirit and that this spirit must be consoled when the object is thrown away. 53 Komatsu explains this spirit, which he calls tamashii or rei, by referring to Marcel Mauss's theory of the status of objects. 54 According to Mauss, precapitalistic societies, such as those of Polynesia, believe that objects possess a spiritual, soul-like dimension and that the "soul" animating objects (hau) is part of the spirit of their owners and makers. For Komatsu, this phenomenon could be defined in psychological terms as "love," "attachment," or "fondness." In other words, an object comes to possess at least two such "spirits"-namely, its maker's fondness for it (in a way that reminds one of animatism) and its owner's attachment to it (which, in extreme cases, can

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take the form of fetishism). 5 5 Thus, objects are the mediators between their makers and their users through the interaction of their respective spirits. In this context, disposal of an object results in discarding the "spirits" attached to it and therefore requires ritualization. According to Komatsu, in late-capitalist societies dominated by extensive and generalized forms of commodification, personal connections through objects are becoming less and less important. However, a "precapitalist" mode of dealing with objects is not completely absent, as is clear when we consider the care with which we handle love letters, gifts, and things in general that we are particularly fond of and attached to. Under certain circumstances, we metaphoricize memories connected to these objects into the shape of a distinct spiritual entity. Furthermore, spirits are ambiguous entities that can be benevolent but also malignant. These spirits, and the objects that they inhabit, must therefore be handled with care, especially when one tries to dispose of them. 56 Traces of premodern mentalities about objects can still be found in the sense of guilt (ushirometasa) people experience in disposing of objects impregnated with endearing memories such as dolls, clothes, and pictures. 57 Such a sense of guilt, related to common ideas about objects in general, is probably a result of metaphorical associations between human life and the "life" of objects typical of capitalist processes of commodification. 58 In other words, Komatsu explains in psychological terms contemporary Japanese ideas of the animate nature of things that inform some participants in memorial rituals for objects. He does not, however, engage in psychological reductionism. Ideas about the "soul of things" depend on social and cultural determinations such as modes of production and historical periods; moreover, such ideas serve to represent a culture's relation to things and its visions of human relations. 59 Many authors emphasize the importance of "humanization" in memorial services for objects, which seems to constitute the root metaphorical process of these rituals. A schematic representation of human life is projected onto the inanimate objects, which are thereupon described as having been born (produced), having had a life (use, function), and going to die (disposal). Such a humanizing treatment of nonsentient entities has a long history in Japanese Buddhism, dating back at least to tenth century speculations on the Buddhahood of plants. Komatsu Kazuhiko mentions folk rituals still performed in areas of rural Japan (Nagana, Niigata, Sado) to celebrate the "birthday" of objects and their aging. 60

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The concept of humanization, far from being just a materialistic, skeptical perspective on those rituals, is also applied by proponents of the animated nature of objects as a way to deal with them despite their unbridgeable ontological differences. Even the advocates of strong animism seem to be saying: Objects must have a soul, but because we don't know how to deal with it, let's try to treat them as humans. Humanization could probably also explain the range of human funerary practices reflected in kuyo services for objects, as we have previously noted, as well as the patchwork-like nature of these rituals. Here, I would like to indicate one possible sociological reason for contemporary humanization of objects. According to Hoshino and Takeda, in today's Japanese nuclear family, pets have often become substitutes for children. The same seems to be happening to inanimate objects such as dolls: "These animals and dolls, which in traditional society were considered by the community and workers as objects that contributed to the welfare of human society, are in contemporary society considered the private possessions of individuals and are gradually becoming "humanized." 61 Mary Evans Richie gives us a very graphic description of humanization occurring in memorial rituals for needles: It is perhaps not so surprising that needles can be considered living things. In the hands of a skillful seamstress, needles fly, so they must seem to have a life of their own. Furthermore, needles differ from one another in their strength or fineness, almost as people do. And in the days before mass manufacture, the making of fine needles was a difficult skill to which the craftsman gave his best efforts, so that some of his soul, in a sense, entered into the needles he made. Furthermore, if broken needles are carefully set aside to be honored, they will not be allowed to go astray in the tatami matting and perhaps hurt someone. 62 Here, tools are envisioned as prostheses, or even as autonomous beings. They have an individual character, like humans, but they can embody the soul of their maker; if abandoned, they are potentially dangerous. This seems to me a typical case of fetishism of tools in a Marxist sense. Is it the result of a deep ignorance of labor relations and production systems? Or on the contrary, is this fetishism an attempt to give expression to a desire for de-alienated labor by emphasizing an organic collaboration between the human agent and her tool, the role of the human producer in making a good tool, and more generally, a sense of awareness and responsibility

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toward oneself, one's work, and the tools of one's trade? One even wonders whether contemporary humanization of objects is not a consequence of and a response to the capitalist tendency toward reification and commodification of human beings. Either way, attitudes toward labor-and more in general, toward one's objects, including the representation of a desired state of mind in the users of objects-are one of the fundamental issues at work in memorial rituals for objects. In any case, contemporary characteristics of humanization seem to exclude that memorial services for objects are always and unquestionably direct expressions of ancestral animistic feelings.

For a Genealogy of Modern Memorial Services: Awashima Myojin and Women's Cults It is not clear exactly when memorial services for objects began. The situation is well summarized by a Senryii poem "Hari kuyo shiishi mo shirezu tera mo nashi" ("Hari kuyo: Its origin is unknown and it has no central temple"). 63 Pamela Asquith situates their origin sometime during the twentieth century. 64 Honda Kazuko argues that today's memorials for dolls originate directly in ceremonies performed at elementary schools in the Taisho era (1912-1926) as ways to instill in pupils frugality and civic virtues; after World War 11, these ceremonies began to be sponsored by professional associations. 65 According to Tanaka Sen'ichi, many memorial ceremonies for objects started during the rapid economic growth of the 1970s and 198os, thus suggesting once more the connection between these rituals and the economy. However, Tanaka also maintains that certain ceremonies, such as the services for needles and for calligraphy brushes, date back to the Edo period (16oo-1868) but fails to give a more specific time frame. 66 In fact, the ]inrin kinmo zui, compiled by Genzaburo in 1690 (Genroku 3), includes illustrated descriptions of kuyo for needles (see Figure 6.1) and chopsticks. 67 Angelika Kretschmer mentions the literatus painter Tanomura Chikuden (1777-1835), who erected a memorial mound for calligraphy brushes (fudezuka) at his house near Oita. 68 Indeed, objects employed in traditional Japanese arts (e.g., implements for the tea ceremony, kimonos and fans used in the performing arts, and strings of musical instruments) are frequently honored with memorial rites before their disposal, 69 and this practice seems to date back to at least the Edo period. We may recall the funerary stones, known as somoku kuyoto (lit., "memorial stupas for plants")

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F rG

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u RE 6. r .

SOURCE:

Edo period memorial service for needles (hari kuyo)

From]inrin kinmozui (Nihon koten zenshii, p. z6z). Tokyo: Gendai shichiisha,

1978.

Courtesy of Gendai shichii shinsha.

or somokuto ("stupas for plants"), erected in Yamagata and Fukushima Prefectures to commemorate trees that had been cut; the earliest date back to the mid-Edo period. 70 A good starting point for our historical investigation is the most famous site of hari kuyo in contemporary Japan-that is, Awashimado at Sensoji. This chapel seems to have been established around 1719 by a certain Kiriya Hanzaemon from Shin Yoshiwara in a place where previously there existed a shrine dedicated to Benten. Hanzaemon brought to the present location a statue of Awashima Myojin formerly located at a Kumano shrine. 71 Amino Yushun has suggested that the Awashima deity might already have been there by the end of the seventeenth century, since one finds mentions of Awashima Benten Shrine and Awashima Jizo Hall in

1700

(Kyoho 4). 72 Sources indicate that Awashima Myojin was brought to Sensoji directly from her original location in Kada Awashima Shrine (presentday Wakayama Prefecture). 73

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The mam deity of Awashimado at Sensoji, Awashima Myojin, ts a combinatory entity typical of premodern religiosity. The original essence (honji) is Bodhisattva Kokuzo, and the manifest trace (suijaku) is the kami Sukunabikona?4 Despite the fact that both are male, the image of the Awashima Myojin as it was printed on amulets issued by the temple represents a goddess. The same amulets are also inscribed with the mantra of Awashima Myojin, which is the Sonshoshin darani (Namo akishagebaya on arikyamaribori sowaka)-that is, the fundamental mantra of Bodhisattva Kokuzo. The propitious day of the deity is the 13th of the month (the same as Koklizo). In the eighteenth century, Sensoji Awashimado seems to have had relations with Kada Awashima Shrine through the Awashima gannin (also read ganjin), itinerant religious figures who spread the cult of the deity throughout Japan from Tohoku to Kyushu (Figure 6.2).

FIGURE 6. 2. Awashima gannin with portable feretories, one of which includes an image of Awashima Myojin (Edo period)

souRCE: From]inrin kinmozui (Nihon koten zenshii, p. 265). Tokyo: Gendai shichiisha, 1978. Courtesy of Gendai shichii shinsha.

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The Awashima gannin carried with them a feretory with an image of the deity. They chanted sutras and spells in front of houses, told stories about the origin and the virtues of Awashima Myojin, and performed dances such as the Daikoku mai at New Year and the Sumiyoshi odori. They also collected old needles while begging for alms. 75 In 1766, Awashima gannin brought the palanquin (mikoshi) of Awashima Myojin and the image of its honjibutsu, Kokiizo, to the Sensoji for a public display (degaicho ).76 The first mention of needles in relation to Sensoji Awashimado occurs in a document dated 1774 (An'ei 3), which reports the existence of stone containers for used needles at the shrine. 77 Nagasawa Toshiaki explains that the stone lanterns near the shrine today were originally used as needle containers. It was believed that creeping through the narrow space in the basement of these lanterns, an action called "passing through the womb" (tainai kuguri), was an apotropaic act to ensure safe childbirth and protection of children from insects and parasites. 78 Here, we see a close association between Awashima, needles, the womb (one of the main symbols of woman in the mentalities of the time), and protection of children. Let us now shift our attention to the original site of Awashima Myojin, Awashima Shrine in Kada. Kada Awashima Shrine is the oldest shrine in the Kada area in presentday Wakayama City. Already mentioned as Kada Jinja in the early tenth century Engishiki/9 it was originally a cult site for fishermen and seafarers (ama). In 1474, hijiri built there a Buddhist temple (jinguji); it is at that time that the specific cult of Awashima Myojin began, as a form of honji suijaku combinatory religiosity. 80 As we have seen, the main deity of Awashima Shrine was (and still is) Sukunabikona. This was envisioned as a Japanese "manifest trace" (suijaku) of an "original state" (honji) of a Buddhist divinity-namely, the Bodhisattva Kokiizo. The honji is located at Nomando, a temple situated north of the shrine; originally part of a larger Shugendo complex, the Kadadera (Myohobu tenporinsan Kadadera) in turn related to Kyoto's Shogoin, 81 and the Nomando was the original jinguji of Awashima Shrine. It seems that the honji suijaku relation was lost at the shrine toward the end of the Edo period. 82 As with most medieval combinatory deities, Awashima Myojin was not constituted simply by pairing together a kami and a bodhisattva but was the result of an accumulation of a number of sacred entities. Presentday Awashima Shrine enshrines the gods Sukunabikona (the main deity), Onamuchi, and Okinagatarashi-hime (aka, Empress Jingii). Sukunabikona

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is an ancient god of medicine and seafaring; in the Edo period, it came to be associated with healing women's diseases and safe childbirth. The most important rituals for this god are the floating away on the sea of hina dolls (hina nagashi) and memorial services for needles. 83 Onamuchi, better known as Okuninushi, is, together with Sukunabikona, a sort of cultural hero. Both are credited with creating medicine, agriculture, animal farming, architecture/carpentry, sake brewing, salt making, and so forth-that is, some of the basic activities that separate a civilization from nature. Sukunabikona is a complex and multifaceted deity; it is related to Sumiyoshi, who is in turn connected with star cults (perhaps of Daoist origin), which in Buddhism center in Bodhisattva Kokiizo. The cult of Kokiizo was particularly diffused in the Kii Peninsula but was not specially related to women's illnesses or childbirth, a feature it probably acquired through its combination with Awashima. 84 According to the origin myth (engi) of the shrine, 85 Awashima is the name of an island discovered by Empress Jingii on her way back from Korea.86 The empress built a shrine on the island to worship Sukunabikona, the local god, and her ailments due to pregnancy were healed. The shrine was later moved to the opposite shore from the island, where it is located today. Another legend, reported in the late Edo period Zoku Asukagawa, states that Awashima Myojin is the sixth lady attendant (hime) of the sun goddess Amaterasu and the wife of the god Sumiyoshi. Because of gynecological problems, she was abandoned by her husband and floated away on the sea in a boat with a scroll made of decorated silk and twelve precious objects. On the third day of the third month, she was stranded at Kada; there she used the silk scroll to make hina dolls. 87 Yet another story, collected in the Nenjugyoji taisei, a work by Hayami Shungyosai published in r8o6, reports a "local folklore" (satozoku) according to which the deity of Awashima Shrine is actually the goddess Harisainyo. At sixteen, she married the god Sumiyoshi but was later divorced by him because of her illness. The goddess, saddened by the existence of obstacles in the Way of husband and wife, made puppets (katashiro) to learn that Way; this was the beginning of the Hina matsuri (doll festival). Since the Awashima goddess has the power to heal women's diseases, the Nenju gyoji taisei explains, girls and women make hina dolls. However, the text criticizes this story saying that because the healing god at the shrine is Sukunabikona, his benefits are not limited to women alone. 88 In this text, we are confronted with a

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conflict of interpretations opposing earlier stories, probably of medieval origin, emphasizing women's centrality for the cult at the shrine, and more recent ones, in which the god is definitely male and women no longer have the monopoly over the benefits generated by worship. Harisainyo (also known today as Harisaijo and Haritennyo) is an elusive Onmyodo deity; some information about her appears in the Hoki naiden, where she is presented as the beautiful third daughter of Dragon King Sagara, who married the pestilence god Gozu Tenno during his world travel in search of a wife. 89 Her honji is Kannon, according to the Shintoshit, or Bodhisattva Mafijusr1 (Monju), according to another tradition. 90 Harisainyo was worshiped since the Muromachi period together with Gozu Tenno as a deity controlling human fortune. 91 In the late Edo period, we find several criticisms against the women-centeredness of the Awashima cult in general and the cult of Harisanyo in particular. Shinto scholars and activists such as Masuho Zanko criticized it; other criticisms appear in texts reporting the origin narratives of the shrine. The performance of memorial services for needles is also ridiculed as a cult of silly girls who got scared by the sermons of the Awashima gannin and ended up giving money to them. 92 Were such attitudes related to the end of the female line of transmission at the shrine and, on a larger cultural scale, to the Nativist normalization of medieval cults? From the previous discussion, we see a gradual development of the cult of Awashima Myojin. It was centered in an old but marginal shrine, revamped by some itinerant priests (hijiri) in the late middle ages as a center of Buddhist/Shinto combinatory religiosity. 93 The original deity, Sukunabikona, was not forgotten, but the role of Empress Jingu was gradually amplified. From a worshiper of Sukunabikona, she became a supernatural figure, defined as the attendant (hime) of the sun goddess Amaterasu and the wife of the god Sumiyoshi; in the process, she came to be identified with Harisainyo (Harisaijo). Origin narratives of the deity clearly deal with aspects of a cult that was specifically directed toward women. First, we find the unique figure of Empress Jingii, an interesting case of mythological gender reversal (she postponed her maternity to fight a war abroad). Second, Jingii's childbirth delay was associated with gynecological problems (seen as the cause of marriage problems that might result in a woman being divorced by her husband). Third, those female illnesses could be cured in a ritualized way by an emphasis on "women's arts" (centered on housewife-like activities such as doll making, sewing, and other needlework but also includ-

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ing some sexual overtones). The female-centeredness of the Awashima cult was strengthened by the fact that until the mid-seventeenth century period (Meireki era: 1655-1658), the religious specialists at Awashima Shrine (kannushi) were traditionally women, and there was a female line of transmission from mother to daughter. 94 Within this context of women's concerns for their bodies and the social consequences of their illnesses, the cult of Awashima Myojin developed, including memorial services for needles. However, it is not clear exactly when such services began. Present-day sources report that hari kuyo began as a ritual for the Awashima deity, understood as Harisaijo; her name is now often written with characters that literally mean "needle talented woman." 95 However, as we have seen, this is not the original meaning of the name of the deity, who has a longer and more complex history and mythology. Furthermore, the identification of Awashima Myojin with Harisainyo (Harisaijo) seems to be rather late (early nineteenth century) and unofficial (it is mentioned by sources as "local folklore"). Finally, Awashimado in Edo seems to have been carrying out devotional practices involving needles, as we have seen, already in 1774-that is, before explicit mentions of Harisainyo. Thus, it is possible that Harisainyo appeared in the Awashima pantheon only after a religious meaning of needles had been established in the cult. The Jinrin kinmo zui reports that Saicho originally placed some needles in the north-northeastern direction (ushitora) of Kyoto to protect the capital from evil influences. Nowadays, women must show gratitude toward their needles; otherwise, they will fall into hell. 96 A later text, the Zoku Asukagawa, adds that women have the obligation to treat needles well because of their relation with the ushitora evil direction. 97 It is difficult today to reconstruct the conceptual and ritual background of these two fragments, but at least we can point out a connection among needles, protection from evil influences, and women. Needles, objects associated (for some reason) with the ushitora direction and thus able to control evil influences, were employed to protect the capital; however, as typical women's tools, needles also came to be associated with evil things that can happen to women. The main ceremony at Kada Awashima Shrine in late medieval and early modern Japan was the well-known floating away on the sea of hina dolls (hina nagashi). Traditionally held on the third day of the third month, hina dolls offered by devotees are floated away on the sea in specially made wooden boats. This ritual has now evolved into a major national event

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involving not only traditional hina dolls but also dolls and even toys, with hundreds of thousands of items sent there for memorialization every year from all parts of Japan. According to the legend based on medieval shrine origin narratives, hina dolls began when Empress Jingii first made an image of the god Sukunabikona; male hina represent the god Sukunabikona, and female hina represent Jingu herself. It should be recalled that dolls since ancient times functioned as ritual implements and magical objects; only much later (perhaps since the sixteenth century) were they used as toys. Hina dolls were often employed as magical substitutes for human beings (katashiro), in particular as scapegoats; they symbolically collected the impurity of individuals or communities (by blowing on them or by rubbing them against one's body) arid were then floated away on rivers or at sea. 98 Such rituals are reported as existing already during the Heian period. 99 This folkloric ritual had its elite counterparts, the Shingon Rokuji ho and the Tendai Rokuji karin ha. Both used pieces of paper cut in human shapes, but whereas the former did that through a goma fire, the latter consisted of floating away those "dolls" on rivers on special boats. 100 These court rituals, both instances of esoteric Buddhist ceremonies held to subjugate enemies and evil influences (gabuku ha), were performed to eliminate calamities and bring about happiness by sending polluted scapegoats away from this world. Contemporary hari kuya and ningya kuya both seem to have developed out of these earlier forms of hina nagashi. In premodern times, offerings to Awashima Myojin (also those collected by itinerant Awashima gannin) included not only hina dolls but all sorts of women's objects such as combs, hairpins, needles, and even porcelain caught in fishermen's nests. It is important to note that these objects offered to the deity had several meanings. In particular, although many of them kept their original function as scapegoats, they also could be substitute bodies (migawari) of the worshipers in prayers asking for protection and symbols of gratitude (analogous to Catholic ex voto)-much as in the previously discussed memorial services for dolls taking place today at the Kan'eiji Kiyomizud6 in Tokyo. In other words, katashiro scapegoats gradually turned into talismans (substitute bodies: migawari) and ex voto, but they never lost their primary significance as symbols of women's body and social condition. In this sense, the role of these votive objects is related to processes of signification and representation of the sacred in later medieval and early modern Japan. The

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fact that votive objects were typically women's tools and objects is related to processes of sacralization of labor and trade tools, including women's activities at home, that became especially noticeable in the Edo period, as we saw in Chapter 5· Hina nagashi and offerings to Awashima Myojin, in general, thus aimed at the purification of bodily pollution of women and the bettering of their social condition, with overtones from what was perhaps an earlier cult associated with sea travel (in which the original residence of the deity was located beyond the sea). 101 At this point, we have established a connection between needles as women's symbols and Awashima Myojin. It is then possible that some form of memorial service for needles began at Awashima Shrine, as suggested by Washimi Sadanobu, as a transformation of pre-existing hina nagashi, also in connection with stories according to which the god Sukunabikona invented the art of sewing. 102 In premodern Japan, needles were expensive and sophisticated technological artifacts made out of fish bones, therefore coming out of a living entity; this fact was probably related to the development of the ritual symbolism of needles. However, we still have to explain why hari kuyo are usually held not on the third day of the third month (as is the case of Awashima Shrine's hina nagashi) but on the eighth day of the second and twelfth months. These two days are known, in old lunar calendars, as koto yoka (lit., "eighth day of activity"): The eighth day of the second month was called koto hajime ("the beginning of activity"), and the eighth day of the twelfth month was koto osame ("the end of activity"). These two days marked the beginning and the end of agricultural activities. In particular, the mountain gods were summoned to the fields (where they became tanokami, gods of fertility) in the second month, to be sent back (kamiokuri) to the mountains in the twelfth. 103 As such, these were special days in which every activity was taboo. As for the reason for the selection of these two days in particular, Shioiri Ryojo has suggested a Buddhist influence. 104 The period between the eighth day of the twelfth month and the eighth day of the second month, in the midst of winter, was traditionally represented as a time of chaos and potentiality. In particular, people believed that in these two days ghosts and other supernatural beings would appear in this world, analogously to New Year's Eve and the eve of the beginning of spring (setsubun). This belief generated a large variety of legends and practices on a local level. Positive potentiality was expressed by the active summoning of deities and spirits.

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Chaos was represented by many ambiguous and potentially disrupting, if not supernatural, entities: a one-eyed monster called Hitotsume Kozo, road deities (dosojin), pestilence gods, insects, and even lies (envisioned here as violations of trust that disrupt the social order). 105 1t was necessary to secure protection against these dangerous entities, and this again was performed in many ways: by scaring them away, by making offerings to them (propitiation), by kamiokuri rituals, and even by cheating if necessary (in certain villages, people faked illness so as not to be affected by the disease gods). 106 Among the ritual activities performed during the koto yoka days, some were derived from Chinese popular religion. On a day called sheri (Jp. shanichi)-that is, the fifth tsuchi-no-e day counting from the spring and autumn equinoxes-the deities of the fields (earth gods) were worshiped. Prayers were offered to them for a good harvest in the spring and to thank them for the harvest in the fall. 107 Apparently, during the sheri days, needles were not supposed to be used. 108 This ritual taboo against needles (symbols of women's labor and, by extension, their social situation and their gender in general) might have resulted in some sort of symbolic transfiguring of needles, which enabled them to become offerings to the gods. In any case, sheri practices seem to be at the origin of Japanese needle memorials. Nakamura Koryii has suggested that in the Edo period, old needles were wrapped in paper or stuck in bean curd (to{u) or konnyaku and floated away in rivers as part of the seasonal rituals. Originally, such ritual floatings of old needles were held at different times according to the region; their final concentration on koto yoka was perhaps due to taboos against work during that day. 109 These floating "offerings" to the earth deities subsequently became offerings to Awashima Myojin; in this respect, Nakamura also notes that the Awashima cult seems to have been very widespread in agricultural villages in Kanto as an expression of women's religiosityY 0 In other words, hari kuyo seems to derive from offerings of needles as symbols of women's condition, originally done in a form structurally similar to the floating away of hina dolls, during a time of the year heavily charged with mythical and ritual symbolism. The practice of sticking needles into tOfu probably derives from the fact that it was envisioned as endowed with magical properties such as protecting power and the capacity to neutralize negative effects of certain actions (in particular, lies). 111 Sources report that some 3,ooo Awashima halls existed in Japan at the end of the Edo period. They were heavily targeted in the early Meiji

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anti-Buddhist persecutions, and now only a few such "shrines" located at Buddhist temples remain; most of them, including the one at Sensoji, were rebuilt in the twentieth century. Another famous Awashimado, where memorial services for needles are held today, is located at the Shinganji in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo. It was built in the first half of the seventeenth century by Seiyo Shonin (d. 1658) out of gratitude toward Awashima Myojin, who appeared to him in a dream and taught him the principles of moxibustion, which healed his excruciating back pain. The Awashimado at Shinganji seems to be an exception in that its cult was not directly related to women. An Awashimado is also located at Sotokuji temple in Kyoto; the shrine is said to have been founded around the mid-fifteenth century. The mid-Edo period poet and painter Yosa Buson (1716-1783) went to pray there for the healing of his ill daughter. The temple-shrine now specializes in womencentered cults, with rituals for conception and easy childbirth and memorial services for aborted fetuses and dead children (mizuko kuyo ); it also performs memorial services for dolls (ningyo kuyo ). 112 A popular memorial service for needles today is performed at the Shojuin temple in Shinjuku, Tokyo. This temple was founded in 1594, and its main icon is Datsueba, the folkloric deity represented as an old woman who undresses the dead before they enter the other world. 113 Nagasawa Toshiaki has suggested that Datsueba was originally enshrined together with King Enma, the ruler of hell. 114 Now, Datsueba was also traditionally considered the protector of children from cough.11 5 This specific cult gradually evolved into more general forms: children protection, universal protection against illness, and finally worldly benefits (wealth, success, health, etc.); it is still practiced today in this general form. Thus, the Shinjuku Datsueba was originally unrelated to needle memorials. However, women used to bring cloths to the temple to cover the statue of Datsueba in gratitude for her intervention. When praying for her protection against cough, they took one of those cloths and wrapped the head of their child in it as a talisman; when the cough was healed, they brought a new cloth to the temple as an ex voto. This was originally a women's cult, like the one dedicated to Awashima Myojin, even though their respective goals were different. It seems that needle memorials developed out of the connection with these earlier cloth offerings because needles were needed to make clothes, and sewing was a typical women's art. Hari kuyo began here in 1957 with the sponsoring of the association of Tokyo producers of traditional Japanese clothes. 116 This

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cult is unrelated to Awashima Myojin and the original form of memorial services for needles, yet we can perhaps glimpse in it a structural matrix of the development of modern hari kuyo. Datsueba, a frightening female deity guarding the passage to the other world, is envisioned as a savior figure (here we have an aspect of reversal: guardians have the power to let in-damn-and to let out-save). In particular, she protects children from severe cough (which, we should recall, could be a life-threatening disease in premodern times); as such, it was the focus of a women's cult. Pieces of cloth and/or clothes were the typical offerings to Datsueba (cloth was metonymically associated with protection from cough), and clothes in turn are connected with sewing and thus to needles. Hence, a women's cult (protection for children) became associated with women's arts (sewing, represented by needles); in this sense, this modern ritual is structurally similar to older premodern rituals. However, significantly, the original cult is forgotten and so is the originally ambiguous status of the deity involved. In conclusion, we can say that modern memorial services for inanimate objects are the result-and in a sense, both the simplification and a proliferation-of a complex set of premodern beliefs and ritual practices. As we have seen, the direct precedents for such ceremonies are found in memorial mounds for calligraphy brushes and in services for needles. Whereas the former seem to have had a limited cultural impact, given the restricted number of people involved with using brushes, the latter had a more general influence. Memorials for needles arose out of the intersections of a number of traditions and rituals: the floating away of hina dolls, performed in Japan since ancient times, which in the middle ages developed into a primarily female cult; folkloric taboos related to the agricultural calendar in the Edo period-grounded in turn, at least in part, on Chinese popular religion (the sheri festival) and on the reduction of Buddha's life and soteriology on a yearly basis. Emphasis on needles was also related to their status as privileged tools of women's work (both in the household and as a commercial activity), which turned them into general symbols of women and their social condition. The cult of Awashima Myojin was largely influential in developing and spreading needle memorialization throughout Japan. Early modern Nativist (kokugaku) attacks against the Awashima cult (both for its women-centeredness and its Buddhist combinatorial nature) opened the way for the diffusion of similar memorial rituals for other objects in the modern period. These new rituals have, as we saw in the first part of this

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chapter, only a slight connection to religious ideas and are performed either at Buddhist temples, at Shinto shrines, or even in secular locations such as schools and parks. However, the modern semireligious status of such rituals should not make us oblivious of the fact that premodern Japanese Buddhism put forth ideas about the ontological, epistemological status of objects and that these ideas influenced the development of modern rituals dealing with objects.

The Secret Life of Objects in Late Medieval and Early Modern Popular Culture There are doubts on the religious framework out of which these ceremonies developed. Although most authors point to Buddhist doctrines about the Buddhahood of nonsentient entities (i.e., material objects), usually referring to the concept of somoku jobutsu, Angelika Kretschmer is skeptical about such received interpretations. She writes: "we have no proof that such kuyo rites were held before the Edo period"; moreover, "people who attend kuyo rites for inanimate objects today do not specifically cite somoku jobutsu as their motivation." 117 In any case, whether the Buddhist thread is correct or not, this does not explain why such ceremonies are performed today also at Shinto shrines and even in secular, nonreligious places. In the remaining part of this chapter, I attempt to show that these ceremonies did indeed develop within the world of premodern Japanese Buddhism as a result of combinations of multifarious ideas and practices. Even though it is true that memorial services for exhausted objects, as we now know them, do not seem to have been performed before the Edo period, other rituals existed that related to the commemoration and transformation of objects from a profane to a sacred state. Among such rituals, we find the floating away of dolls (hina nagashi) previously discussed but also the memorialization of trees cut for construction materials and even more arcane rites such as the Genji kuyo, in which the scrolls of the Genji monogatari were subjected to various manipulations to turn them into Buddhist entities. I think that modern kuyoare transformations (sometimes, radically innovative) of these and other older forms of ritual activities, grounded on doctrinal speculations, which developed within the Buddhist culture of Japan. During the second half of the Tokugawa period, texts about the animate, sentient nature of objects circulated widely in the urban centers of Japan.

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Takizawa Bakin wrote about objects in a pawnshop telling old stories to each other; Toriyama Sekien (r7r2-r788) painted between 1775 and 1784 a collection of paintings describing objects turned into ghosts.ll8 Such stories about the ghosts of abandoned, useless objects became part of Edo Japan's urban folklore, a sort of dark side of the period's economic development. The ghosts painted by Sekien appear to be based on an earlier painted scroll, known as Hyakki yagyo emaki ("Painted Scroll of a Nocturnal Procession of a Hundred Ghosts"), a Yamato-e painting describing a procession staged at night in the streets of Kyoto by the ghosts of various objects. 119 Traditionally attributed to Tosa Mitsunobu (d. 1525), art historians seem to agree that it was composed by a member of the Tosa art school, probably around the early or mid-fifteenth century. Several versions exist, dating from the late Muromachi and early Edo periods.l2° According to Tanaka Takako, the Hyakki yagyo emaki is based on a single scene reproducing a procession of the ghostly objects drawn from a previous illustrated text entitled Tsukumogami emaki. 121 The Tsukumogami emaki, also known as Tsukumogami ki and Hijo jobutsu e, is an otogizoshi probably composed in 1486. 122 Numerous copies made in the Tokugawa period suggest that this text was quite popular. It tells the story of a group of abandoned objects that turn into dangerous ghosts and, after being pacified, finally become buddhas. The tale warns its readers not to dispose of objects without proper memorial rituals. Without these rituals, the objects would turn into tsukumogami after a hundred years, the sort of evil ghosts described in the story. 123 The word tsukumogami, written with different characters, originally means "the hair of a ninety-nine-year-old person." The etymology of the term is unclear, as is the semantic process that relates the hair of elderly people to the dangerous spirits of old abandoned objects. Komatsu Kazuhiko suggests that, since in traditional societies old age is often associated with some kind of spiritual power, the word kami in tsukumogami shifted its meaning from "hair" to "deity" to emphasize this fact. This shift reflects the basic ambivalence of the Japanese deities. When properly worshiped, kami are docile and benevolent; when neglected or offended, they turn into dangerous ghosts. 124 Tanaka Takako has explored the semantic drift of the term tsukumogami with interesting results. The term appears for the first time in the Ise monogatari, a collection of poems and short texts about love attributed to the aristocratic dandy Ariwara no Narihira (825-88o).

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Medieval commentaries to that text explain that tsukumogami refers to the demonic nature of old women, whose spirit can take the semblance of an ogre (ani) and torment people at night. The demonic nature of old women is the subject of the No play Yamanba, in which the protagonist is described as an aggregate of inanimate objects.U 5 We find here a possible explanation of the link between old age (gender does not seem to be relevant in the Tsukumogami ki), ghosts, and inanimate things. The character of Yamanba as a precursor of the tsukumogami in the Tsukumogami ki shares the characteristics of the various categories of evil spirits outlined by Komatsu. She is dangerous and vengeful (like the angry spirits of the dead: onryo or goryo ); she is quasi-human, zombie-like (like the kappa); and she prefigures the ghosts of inanimate objects (the tsukumogami proper). 126 Tanaka also points to the similarities between the ghosts of everyday objects (tsukumogami and hyakki) on the one hand and certain sacred objects used in medieval Onmyodo such as hitogata and shikijin (or shikigami) on the other hand. The latter objects are receptacles for, respectively, human and divine spirits, ambiguous entities between the sphere of the animate and the inanimate. These two types of sacred objects were discarded after use and dumped in marginal areas of the city, much in the same way as everyday objects. In addition, the objects memorialized in the rituals we discussed in the previous section function much in the same way as hitogata: they are a kind of scapegoat used to purify those who destroy them. 127 The explicit attribution of spiritual power to inanimate objects hardly begins with the Tsukumogami ki. Several texts mention a transformative capacity of objects, which are supposedly able to turn into human beings or into ghostsY 8 But it is during the Muromachi period that the identification with evil spirits and objects becomes more common. Most likely, both the Yakki yagyo and the Tsukumogami ki reflect pre-existing ideas about the intrinsically animate nature of objects, with close references to Chinese and/or other sources. However, in the text, the ghosts of objects are not just oddities or marginal characters; they are the protagonists. Objects were acquiring a different cultural and symbolic status at the time the text was written, as is clear from the Tsukumogami ki's attempt to apply Shingon philosophical doctrines about the possibility for inanimate objects to become buddhas (hijo jobutsu) to concrete, everyday situations. Such a transformation of the role of objects was probably related to the impact on Japanese urban society of forms of proto-capitalism and

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FIGuRE

6. 3.

People unceremoniously throw away objects they no longer

need SOUR C E: From Tsukumogami painted scroll, property of Kyoto University Librar y. Courtesy of Kyoto University Library (Kyoto Daiga ku fuzoku toshokan).

processes of commodification and the consequent attempt by religious institutions to develop new religious markets through the re-enchantment/ de-commodification of things. By sacralizing people's attitudes and behavior toward everyday objects, Buddhist institutions aimed to play an even greater role in the daily life of the Japanese. Let us now turn our attention to the content of the Tsukumogami ki. 129 The text contains a number of descriptive, realistic elements and learned references that make its story more believable. It opens with a reference to the folk custom of discarding old things at the end of the year (susuharai). A citation from an unknown Onmyodo text, the Onmyo zakki ("Miscellaneous Records Concerning the Yin and Yang [Teachings]"), explains that "objects after a hundred years turn into ghosts and come alive and bewitch people's hearts"; such ghostly objects are called tsukumogami ("spirits of old objects"). The main part of the text is a narration of such an occurrence. The story takes place during the Kenpo era (964-9 68). A group of discarded objects gathered and held a consultation. They complained that, despite many years of loyal service to their masters, they not only did not receive a reward but had been abandoned on the streets and were trampled upon by horses and cows (Figure 6.3). They decide then to become ghosts and take revenge on people. Only one of them, a monk in the realm of objects-a rosary called Ichiren ("One Thread of Beads")-opposes the decision saying that their present state was

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the result of their karma; he urges the other objects to have compassion instead of taking revenge. Here, we see the traditional role of the Buddhist priesthood against uprising and social change. Upon hearing that, a club named Aratar6 ("Rough Guy") insults the priest and beats him. At that point, an old book called Professor of Classics (Kobun sensei) begins to organize the rebellion. He explains that before the creation of the world, the universe was a chaotic mass of one single substance, and therefore, there was no distinction between humans and objects. 130 The creation did generate separate things, but since the original essence was not destroyed, argued the Professor, it should be possible for objects to acquire a spirit. He proposes that on the eve of the first day of spring (setsubun), the time of the year corresponding, on a macrocosmic level, to the moment of cosmic creation, they all metamorphose into living beings-a process described as emptying their body and entering the bosom of the Creator God (zokejin) to have it filled by a ghostlike spirit. The fatal day finally arrives and, after one hundred years of life as objects, they turn into ghosts. They have a terrifying aspect: Some look like men and women, young and old; others look like ghosts, demons, and evil spirits; still others look like magical animals such as foxes, wolves, and jackals (Figure 6.4). They decide to establish their village on the northern slope of Mt. Funaoka, just north of Kyoto.

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The animated objects begin immediately to take revenge on their former owners who so ungratefully threw them away. They go to the Shirakawa district in Kyoto and kill people and domestic animals. People are desperate and at a loss about what to do. The text informs us that since these object ghosts were invisible (one would imagine therefore that the frightening shapes previously described were probably visible only to the objects themselves and to beings endowed with supernatural faculties), people could not find a way to stop the calamities and could only rely upon the power of buddhas and kami. One day, the object ghosts begin a religious discussion. One among them notes that the country in which they reside is the "land of the kami" (shinkoku), and human beings believe in Shinto deities. He also argues that the objects, now that they have acquired a spirit, should worship their own god lest they be mistaken for inanimate things such as trees and stones. All objects agree and build on the top of the mountain a shrine dedicated to their new communal god (ujigami), named Henge ("Metamorphosis") Daimyojin. They also establish their own clergy, rituals, and festivals. In particular, in the middle of the night of the fifth day of the second month, they carry the portable shrine of their god (mikoshi) on a procession along Ichijo Street in Kyoto. By chance, the prime minister sees the procession; frightened and worried, he reports it to the emperor, who orders a divination to be held to find out what is happening. The response of the diviners is troubling: This is not a matter to be taken lightly. The emperor then orders all temples and shrines to perform rituals to pacify the ghosts and protect the country. In particular, he summons a certain Shingon high priest, known for his spiritual powers, and invites him to perform the great rite of the Supreme Dharm:z"i (sonsho darani). 131 It is a major ritual. The main priest, helped by twenty attendant priests, all well versed in esoteric Buddhism, perform a goma fire ceremony and chant scriptures for seven days and seven nights. On the night of the sixth day, the emperor sees a flash in the sky: It is the light of the seven heavenly boys (tendo) evoked by the rite's officiant who are flying north of Kyoto to fight against the ghost objects. The text then tells us what happens in the invisible realm where ghosts and heavenly beings meet and fight. The heavenly boys appear to the ghost objects in their frightening aspect as fierce beings surrounded by flames and say: "If you stop tormenting people and taking lives, if you take refuge

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in the Three Treasures and arouse the desire to attain enlightenment, we will spare your lives. Otherwise we will kill you all!" The ghosts, terrified, decide to ask for religious instruction. They repent, convert to Buddhism, and appoint as their spiritual guide the rosary Ichiren, who is thus vindicated. Ichiren, disgusted by the transience of this illusory world, has spent the winter performing spiritual practices on the mountain. One day, he is exposed to the Shingon teachings and their miraculous power by being told the legend of Kobo Daishi displaying in front of the emperor and other religious leaders the effects of " becoming buddha in this very body" (sokushin jobutsu). Finally, Ichiren and his three disciples become buddhas. The images in the text portray them in their enlightened, mandalic appearance (Figure 6.5). The final section of the Tsukumogami ki is a sermon on the superiority of the Shingon sect, precisely because it teaches that even nonsentient beings can become buddhas, a doctrine that in the case of Tendai and Kegon is only theoretical or limited to plants and trees. According to Shingon, all

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inanimate objects can convert, practice, and become buddhas because even the nonsentient elements of the Ten Worlds share the virtue of the Sanskrit letter A, which is the substance of the universe. The last line of the text is an exhortation to abandon the other sects and join Shingon. We do not know who was the audience of this text, but we can imagine that the final doctrinal part was rather obscure to most readers and listeners. The Tsukumogami ki is essentially a tale of subversion and restoration of the cosmic and social orders. On a cosmic level, inanimate objects become animate; things escape human control and "bite back," wreaking havoc in society and threatening the safety of the country. The direct cause of such chaos is the objects' rebellious decision to defy the natural order by learning ways to appropriate cosmic energy and acquire a "soul." However, perhaps because of their cosmic transgression, their soul is not like that of humans but rather of the nature of a ghost or monster. 132 But what are these objects rebelling against? As the text clearly states, the objects resent the way they have been treated by their human masters, who abandoned them without mercy or gratitude after use. Their rebellion is against exploitation, but we could say that what the objects really resent are the effects of commodification. Hanada Kiyoteru has perceived behind the Tsukumogami ki the "momentous development in productivity that occurred during the Muromachi period," which enabled people to replace their objects frequently in a sort of early form of consumerism; for this reason, he proposed the need for a "materialistic interpretation of the hyakki yagyo." 133 Miyata Noboru also wrote that in medieval Kyoto, commodities had become easily attainable and old objects were thrown away without much regretY 4 Shibusawa Tatsuhiko even suggested that these stories are a return of the spirits after their exclusion operated by late medieval and early modern technological developments-stories about "fetishes," as he called them. 135 If all this is correct, then the Tsukumogami ki represents a certain anxiety about social changes brought about by economic transformations. The fact that the protagonists of the tale are inanimate objects makes its social critique even more poignant. As we saw in Chapter r, according to Buddhist initiatory discourses, things look inanimate only to the ordinary eye. Essentially, however, on their obverse side (ura), they have a spirit. Accordingly, as beings endowed with a spirit, they can either do evil or become buddhas. The Tsukumogami ki says that the objects' animate

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nature is based both on a transformation of the material elements to reveal consciousness and on the activities of yin and yang. The Shingon exegetes mentioned in their texts "deluded" and "enlightened" nonsentients. In the same way, the Tsukumogami ki presents in a vivid graphic form the whole process of enlightenment of things, from the original realization of their sentient nature to final Buddhahood. At first, objects, like human beings, lead a deluded, evil life. Their encounter with Shingon Buddhism (an encounter that is violent as in many Buddhist stories involving beings, including "inanimate" objects, which are particularly ignorant and hard to lead to the righteous path) results in conversion and desire for enlightenment (hosshin), performance of religious practices (shugyo), and awakening (bodai). The final picture of the Tsukumogami ki shows the objects in their realized Buddhahood (jobutsu), which is also a form of pacification and, therefore, "extinction" (nirvana). The Tsukumogami ki also shows something akin to an innate religious spirit of the objects. As soon as they become aware of their sentient nature, objects form a community and establish a Shinto-like religious center and rituals. It is one of these rituals, a procession in the streets of Kyoto, that ultimately triggers their conversion to Buddhism and salvation. After their conversion, the rosary Ichiren (a monk in the objects' world) becomes the spiritual guide of the community of things and leads them to Buddhahood. The text does not discuss it, but Ichiren as a rosary could certainly be envisioned as a sanmaya form, one of the symbolic shapes of the Dharmakaya, and as the manifestation of a Buddha preaching to objects and guiding them to salvation. Komatsu Kazuhiko is aware that processes of commodification were occurring in Japan when the Tsukumogami ki was written, but he interprets them not as a transformation of the mode of production and a change toward consumerism but as a mere increase in circulating goods, which were nonetheless consumed in a precapitalist manner-that is, for their use-value and not for their sign-valueY 6 Komatsu accordingly sees in the Tsukumogami ki "a belief in the spirit of things and the regret caused by throwing things away." 137 In this, he is in line with his own interpretation of the meaning of modern memorial services for objects. Miyata Noboru agrees with Komatsu and adds a further "belief" that if objects are disposed of without proper ritual action (memorialization qua pacification), the spirits of things could turn into ghosts and take revenge on human beings. 138

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At this point, a question comes immediately to mind: Whose beliefs are these? The authors suggest that these were very common beliefs among the Japanese of the time, manifestations of a more ancestral animistic layer. However, the Tsukumogami ki is quite clear that objects had been thrown away without proper memorialization, which means that not everyone shared the beliefs Komatsu and Miyata attribute to them. The text does present the intrinsic animated nature of objects as a philosophical doctrine and as an explanation of events occurring in everyday reality, such as calamities and other inexplicable phenomena. The way in which it does so, however, suggests that its audience needed to be instructed about and convinced of the validity of such a doctrine, which therefore was not part of folkloric common sense. In other words, it seems that the priestly author(s) of the Tsukumogami ki were mobilizing a complex initiatory philosophical knowledge about the Buddhahood of nonsentients to induce their audience to "believe" certain superstitious ideas about everyday objects. But why? It seems that the Tsukumogami ki presents one of the answers of religious institutions to the development of proto-capitalism during the Muromachi and Edo periods and the consequent growing commodification-a development that was threatening consolidated notions of order and the role of religion in society. In particular, this text displays a rather subtle strategy in its attempt toward a "re-enchantment" of everyday objects, which amounts to a de-commodification, by providing instructions on proper memorialization of objects. In other words, the Tsukumogami ki does not criticize commodification per se, nor does it provide guidelines concerning the production, exchange, and use of objects. It just tries to reduce the effects of commodification by introducing a ritual dimension in the disposal of used, exhausted objects. De-commodification of objects was carried out through the development of new religious services (in themselves, another sort of commodity). Thus, the text avoids a critique of commodification and protocapitalist production, perhaps because such a critique could undermine the authority of religious institutions themselves. In addition, by introducing a new ritual dimension, Buddhist institutions were able to expand their presence in society at the level of micropractices of consumption (and disposal) of objects. In this way, Buddhism attempted to control the new social tendencies by authorizing them and marking them off through ritual action. Ideologically, the Tsukumogami ki is rather conservative. Its message is clearly against any attempt to revolt and subvert the existing social order,

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even for a just cause, because the present situation is a consequence of one's own past actions. The text presents democratic assemblies in which participants decide together what to do (there is no absolute authority in the world of objects), and course of action is decided based on rational reasoning, but such democratic attempts are presented as occurring in the realm of ghosts and monsters. Buddhism is presented as a particularly conservative force: The rosary Ichiren is the only voice against the objects' rebellion, and it is the Shingon establishment that restores the cosmic and social order. Even though the ultimate salvation of the objects is a result of their rebellion-as far as we can tell from the story, without their initial transgressive act, objects would not have become buddhas-their final Buddhahood appears as an attempt on the part of the religious institutions to control the transgressive potential of the objects: After being subjugated, they are completely domesticated and pacified into nirvana. Shinto is seen as a manifestation of local, popular consciousness, with all its limitations and superstitious effects. After all, objects can acquire the force to rebel not thanks to Shinto, which is described more as a civil religion, a mark of communal identity, but through Chinese learning. It is possible to read in this a note of resentment on the part of the Shingon tradition against the growing importance of new ideas resulting from the extensive trade relations with the Asian continent promoted by the Ashikaga shoguns. In their view, new Chinese ideas were related to commodification and consumerism, factors that were potentially threatening to the established social order. And yet, the strong parodistic, carnivalistic elements reduce the conservative or reactionary aspects of the text. It is not by chance that the procession of objects became the theme of the later Hyakki yagyo, as suggested by Tanaka Takako. It is perhaps the most carnivalistic, festive moment of the Tsukumogami ki, in which the objects are in control of the imperial capital and received ideas of order are suspended. One important ramification of all these considerations is that the Tsukumogami ki is not the manifestation of an ancestral animistic mentality. It was written to respond to certain contemporary problems of a social and ideological nature. If it did mobilize pre-existing cultural and textual elements, its motivations were new. It is possible that the Tsukumogami ki opened the way conceptually to early modern and modern memorial services for everyday objects, even though it does not mention any such rituals. In fact, the theme of old objects turned into ghosts and later pacified is

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a topos in late medieval and early modern Japanese literature. An analysis of a number of old stories on the subject reveals several common patterns. For example, a typical setting is an abandoned temple. A traveler stops there for the night and sees objects moving around; the following morning he collects those objects, buries them, and offers incense to them. A variant describes the traveler's dialogue with ghosts appearing to him in the shape of objects. As a result, the protagonist often ends up becoming the resident priest of the temple or finding a treasure there. These stories are usually associated with itinerant priests but also with figures of social marginality such as village toughs, orphaned people, and wandering elders.139 The ghostly objects appearing in these stories seem to differ according to the region. What is interesting in these tales is that memorialization of such objects often results in the pacification/neutralization of the ghost and the acquisition of fortune (material wealth) by the performer of the rite. 140 It should be noted, however, as we have seen in the course of this book, that a number of rituals already existed in medieval Japan concerning the sacralization of profane things. The most representative among them is perhaps the set of ceremonies involving the cutting of trees and their transformation into Buddhist images and temples; rituals dealing with hina dolls were also probably influential in the development of kuyo for objects. Esoteric Buddhism, in particular, developed a number of rituals (e.g., kaji) to manipulate sacred objects, including the transformation of profane objects into sacred ones, and vice versa. Within this framework, old objects could also be "empowered" as a way to purify and immolate them. Another set of rituals we should consider in this genealogy of modern practices of memorialization of objects is the so-called Genji kuyo, rites of purification performed since the late Heian period on copies of the Genji monogatari for the salvation of its author and readers. 141 These rituals began as an answer to the perception that Murasaki Shikibu had been hurled into hell because she wrote her novel. According to a narrow Buddhist interpretation, this amounted to a number of sins: telling lies (a novel is by definition not a true account of events), provoking lascivious thoughts in the readers, and more generally, emphasizing profane states of mind rather than righteous religious attitudes. 142 Buddhist priests and literati developed countermeasures in the form of a postmortem merit-making ritual (tsuizen kuyo) for Murasaki Shikibu based on the manipulation of her novel aimed

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at turning it into a sacred object so that, as a secondary effect, its readers also would receive good karma. The first to mention such kinds of rituals was the priest Choken in his Genji ipponkyo, written in the second half of the twelfth century. In this short text, he proposed to copy the Lotus Sutra with the addition of the title of one chapter of the Genji monogatari at the end of each chapter of the sutra.143 The idea was to neutralize each chapter (or group of chapters) of the Genji with the salvific words of the Lotus. Textually, though, such copies appear as expressions of the principle that profane afflictions (bonni5) are in themselves manifestations of enlightenment (bodai). The Genji ipponkyowas the source for subsequent works, such as the medieval otogizoshi tale Murasaki Shikibu no maki and the No drama Genji kuyi5. 144 Another late Heian text, the collection of Buddhist tales entitled Homotsushu, tells of Murasaki Shikibu appearing to someone in a dream and asking for the celebration of a ritual called "one-day scripture copying" (Ichinichi kyo kuyi5). 145 In this case also, copying scriptures was an antidote to the sins caused by writing (and reading) profane literature. From the thirteenth century on, rituals concerning the Genji monogatari and Murasaki Shikibu became more elaborate and creative, often involving the composition of poems. For example, the Ima monogatari, written after 1239, tells of Murasaki Shikibu appearing in a dream and requesting a peculiar ritual intervention on her behalf: The addressee of the dream should write poems with the title of each chapter of the Genji monogatari in the first line and the formula Namu Amida Butsu at the end. 146 A further development is constituted by the Genji hyobyaku, attributed to Shokaku, a disciple of the previously mentioned Choken. Hyobyaku is a kind of Buddhist sermon explaining the meaning and goal of a ceremony. In this case, the author managed to include in the sermon the titles of all chapters of the Genji monogatari. The result is a highly poetical presentation of the main features of the Buddhist worldview. The Genji was thus transformed from a sinful text into an exposition of Buddhist truth. Apparently, the Genji hyobyaku was used in Genji kuyo instead of copying the Lotus Sutra as in the foregoing Ipponkyo; this system was cheaper and required fewer participants. An imperial collection of waka poems, the Shinchokusen wakashu, describes a veritable poetic kuyo for Murasaki Shikibu. The ritual resembles the ceremony for the divinized Man'yoshu poet Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, known as eigu ("worshiping the portrait"), itself derived from memorial rites performed

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to honor Confucius. 147 In general, Genji kuyo were communal events that gradually began to emphasize poetic creation as a pleasurable and meritmaking activity rather than Murasaki Shikibu's suffering and the sinfulness of literature. For poets, these kuyo were ways to ensure indulgence from the sins caused by their activity; for priests (especially of the Tendai Agui branch), they were a good marketing strategy. There is an interesting medieval text, entitled Genji kuyo zoshi, based on the Genji hyobyaku, which describes a radical way to transform the Genji monogatari from a profane text into a sacred one. Simply put, this is a form of recycling. The Genji monogatari was destroyed by dissolving in water the paper on which it was written; the resulting raw material was then recycled to make new paper, and the Lotus Sutra was copied on it. 148 To conclude our discussion, I would like to point to some interesting similarities connecting Genji kuyo with other phenomena we have discussed thus far: sutra copying in blood, funerary clothes inscribed with passages from the scriptures (kyokatabira), and present-day kuyo for inanimate objects. As the profane substance of one's body (blood) becomes the support (and the signifier) of the scriptures, so the material substance of the Genji monogatari (the paper out of which the book is made) becomes the material support of the Lotus Sutra. In a related way, when a fan painted with scenes of everyday profane life at court, as the one we discussed in Chapter 3, is superinscribed with the Lotus Sutra, it becomes an object analogous to the kyokatabira. Also in this case, a profane entity is destroyed and transformed into a sacred one (one's body, a book, which is a further instance of the fluctuation between sentient and nonsentient that characterizes the Japanese Buddhist treatment of materiality). All these practices transform "useless," or even dangerous, profane objects into sacred entities in a process that produces merit for all parties involved. The ontological transformation of the ritualized objects involves a sort of Buddhist "re-formatting"; as a result, the objects display their previously invisible Buddhist essence, and the profane, sinful interactions with them actually appear as morally righteous, beneficial, even sanctified actions.

Beyond Materiality: Buddhahood in Cyberspace In 1997, the Daiyuin (or Daioji), a Buddhist temple in northwestern Kyoto affiliated with the Myoshinji branch of the Zen Rinzai sect, started an

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active and original utilization of the Internet. The Daiyuin did not simply advertise itself and its services online; it performed religious rites over the lnternet. 149 On April 4, 1997, a virtual temple, the Jomoji (lit., the "Information Network Temple," i.e., the Internet Temple), was established to offer a sort of multimedia New Age-Zen wisdomY 0 On October 24 of the same year, the Daiyiiin began to offer a memorial service for information technology-related objects such as old computers, floppy disks, and CDROMs. As was explained on the temple's home page, this service provided a means of filling the "spiritual void" and the "need for religious guidance" created by these new technologies. 151 The memorial service to be described in detail was called "A Buddhist Prayer for Lost Information." 152 The ceremony began with some opening words explaining the meaning of the function, followed by the chanting of sutras (in particular, the Heart Sutra and the Kannon Sutra) and the burning of incense. As in all Zen funerals, next came the main segment of the ritual, the transfer of merit (eko ), in which the goals of the ceremony are explained and merit is transferred. The central part of the homiletics (ekomon) included the following words: "I pray that the burial of information of all kinds, from the DNA to cultural heritage, and in particular [the objects for which the service is being held] will turn into the basis for new knowledge." Finally, amulets were distributed, 153 and a few closing words concluded the ceremony. The memorial service for lost information recognized the "great transformation of knowledge" in our contemporary world as a result of the fact that people acquire most of their information through the use of electronic devices such as TV sets, radios, and PCs. 154 Unfortunately, we cannot always make effective use of these new technologies. As the temple's Web page explained: To provide an example, there are many "living" documents and softwares [sic] that are thoughtlessly discarded or erased without even a second thought ... Head Priest Ishiko hopes that through holding an "Information Service" and by teaching the words of the Buddha, that [sic] this "information void" will cease to exist. 155 The information memorial seems to address people's thoughtlessness and carelessness in destroying "living" objects. The problem, though, is that these are not usual material "objects" but immaterial entities such as electronic configurations of energy, complexes of signs, and potential

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knowledge. (Such immaterial condition is emphasized even more by the fact that the very information provided by the temple has vanished.) It is unclear what "living" means here, as it is written in quotation marks in the original presentation of the ritual. Is it living in the literal sense that immaterial information possesses a "soul"? And if so, what is the status of such a soul in terms of Buddhist doctrine? Or in contrast, is the word "living" employed only metaphorically in the sense that this information could still be used? In either case, the service is meant less for the memorialized objects than for the mental and spiritual attitudes of the people who request it. In this sense, the kuyo that was performed by the Daiyuin was in line with similar rituals performed by other temples for ordinary, less ambiguously material objects. Yet, the nature of Daiyiiin's intervention is quite interesting and deserves attention for the philosophical and cultural questions it poses about the nature of objects, the role of religion, and the status of death (and exhaustion in the case of objects) in contemporary Japanese culture. With this service, Buddhist rituals in Japan have trespassed the threshold of immateriality. They now address immaterial entities, simulacra of things-signs or even potential signs as in a discarded floppy disk. Jean Baudrillard has shown that information and knowledge are also commodities, and this insight is particularly relevant for understanding contemporary Japanese culture. 156 This ritual certainly testifies to the creativity and vitality of the Buddhist tradition in Japan and its adaptability to new cultural dimensions. It could also be envisioned as an instance of re-enchantment of the world taking place in postmodern, highly industrialized J apan. 157 On the other hand, the memorial service for lost information-perhaps the most immaterial element of the Internet immateriality-could well represent an ultimate stage in the fetishism of commodities that characterizes capitalism, as described by Karl Marx. The Daioji carries this insight one step further by assuring us that even lost information, potential knowledge, has a life and a death. Through the memorialization of their "death" in a religious service, even immaterial entities have now acquired a complete and autonomous "life" of their ownY 8 However, it should be pointed out that "life" and "death" are often treated in very simplistic and metaphorical ways, suggesting once more that these rituals deal not only with general metaphysical and ontological issues but also with secular attitudes about objects and human interactions with them.

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Conclusion: The Meaning of Memorialization After this long historical excursus, it is time to return to the present and assess the meaning of memorial rituals for exhausted objects in contemporary Japan. Several main themes emerge from an overview of the various explanations provided about the meaning attributed by memorial rituals for objects. First, meaning can vary according to different participants: priests (officiants), organizers (when distinct from priests, e.g., companies, business organizations, town or village groups, etc.), direct participants (owners of the objects that are going to be memorialized), and spectators (those who look at the ceremony without participating directly in it, e.g., local residents, tourists, and academics). Second, such rituals are performed to induce, represent, and enact a number of psychological, social, religious, and ideological ideas and dispositions, but participants do not have to share all the assumptions of these different fields. With the pretext of memorializing used objects, these rituals provide a description/commentary on corporate culture, consumer society, and tradition in contemporary Japan. Thus, this curious and apparently simple religious service actually proves to be playing on several cultural registers. On a religious level, there seems to be a certain obligation, not explicitly stated, to perform these rituals owing to the objects' intrinsically animate nature. In some cases, as we have seen, the rituals serve to release that fragment of the owner's own soul, which had attached itself to the objects. For Asquith, "[p]articipation in kuyo [reveals] a reflection of a different ontology and relationship to the objects." 159 As an example, beautician Yamano Aiko, who in 1977 organized the first memorial for scissors, said that for a profession like hers scissors are like "doubles" (bunshin). 160 More often, these rituals display/enact the religious feelings of the participants. As Ian Reader explains, the "animistic view of the world" informing memorial services for objects "introduce[s] an obligation to make amends for actions taken, to express gratitude for things received and to recognise an inherent sense of the tragic in human life, which prospers in conjunction with the inevitability of death and destruction." 161 Yamano Aiko had the memorial ritual performed to thank scissors and at the same time to pray for an enhancement of one's professional skills; she emphasized a "sense of gratitude for things," which she believed would "purify one's heart." 162

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Is it possible to identify a common religious matrix behind this nebula of ritual phenomena? Given their wide variety and their distribution throughout the spectrum of Japanese religiosity (memorial services are performed at Shinto shrines and at Buddhist temples of most denominations, each with its own doctrinal vocabulary and ritual forms), the answer would seem to be negative. Yet, when we consider the structure and the dynamics of memorial services for objects, we encounter several significant clues that point to a Tantric matrix. Three are the essential features of kuyo rituals. Let us recall them here. First, kuyo rituals are ambiguous, as they deal both with the end of secular profane beings (death) and the production of new sacred objects (birth or rebirth). Second, kuyo rituals consist in giving offerings to beings and things that could affect the salvation of the donor. Third, these rituals often take the form of a Tantric sacrifice (goma), which establishes a direct communication between this world and the invisible world of buddhas; the objects involved are immolated to be purified, transformed, and transferred to the realm of the buddhas. From these three characteristics, we see that memorial services involve a number of circuits: death and spiritual rebirth of the objects (they deal with death to transform impure secular entities into sacred ones); communication between the visible and the invisible; and production and circulation of merit (the destruction of the objects benefits both the object and the destroyer). The latter circuit especially deserves our attention because it exemplifies one of the main characteristics of Tantric ritual action. In it, negative passions are actively exploited to yield benefits. As already noted by Asquith, "kuyo bestows benefits both on the soul of the object ... and on the perpetrator of their demise." 163 In the same way, the memorial services for carving knives described earlier, while focusing on the objects, de facto encompass a wider range of actors and relations: knives, their owners/users (chefs), their objects (animals etc.), and all the people who benefit from the use of knives and the death of animals (presumably, the chefs themselves and restaurant customers). 164 It would be wrong to consider this ritual as a purely formal, if not cynical, manifestation of regret. The point is that this ritual, as many other memorial services, presents the essential characteristics of esoteric Buddhist soteriology-namely, objects become the channel through which blessings of various kinds are conveyed onto their users and those who are affected by the ritual (in some cases, the entire universe). In this way, the victims become the saviors of their own killers,

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and the act of killing itself becomes a means to achieve salvation. We are obviously facing here a case of Tantric reversal, in which something prohibited by mainstream Buddhism, in this case, violence, is used to achieve the highest Buddhist goaU 65 The identification of morphological features ascribable to Tantrism, however, is not enough to prove an actual historical connection between modern kuya for objects and medieval esoteric Buddhist rituals and doctrines.166 Nevertheless, our exploration of the genealogy of modern memorial services has shown several direct connections: esoteric Buddhist purification/subjugation rituals involving dolls dating back to the Heian period (Rokuji ha, Karin ha), purification practices involving the Genji monogatari (Genji kuya) from about the same time, Shingon tales of dangerous, animated objects that need to be pacified through memorialization (the Tsukumogami ki), and a fluid set of rituals related to needles and women's condition. Of course, our genealogy of doctrines and ritual forms does not necessarily imply formal permanence and cultural continuity; furthermore, in addition to esoteric Buddhism, other conceptual and ritual systems were influential in the development of memorial ceremonies for objects. Still, it can be argued that Tantrism constituted, if not the only, at least the most important intellectual and ritual substratum for these ceremonies. On a psychological level, the common interpretation is that these rituals serve to express and control certain emotions connected to the objects. Angelika Kretschmer has written: So it is perhaps not the buddha-nature of plants, but the human-nature of the objects that inspires the performance of kuya rites. All of the objects (so far as I know) that receive kuya have been man-made, and thus transformed from their natural state. They can be properly viewed as products of culture, not nature. It is, I think, precisely this human investment in the object that moves people to perform kuya rites. 167

As suggested by Asquith, "By participating in kuya, and paying for it, a person gains katsuryoku (vital power) and he or she feels relieved." 168 Authors propose a rather limited range of possible emotions experienced by the participants in these rituals. Five of the most recurring themes are gratitude, regret, sorrow, guilt, and fear. The experience of any of these feelings, except the last one, does not depend on the participant's philosophical ideas about the existence of a soul in objects; humanization (treating objects as quasi-humans), in contrast, plays an essential role. There

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is ample agreement on the fact that these rituals express gratitude to the objects for their services to their owners and regret/sorrow about the imminent and unavoidable separation. Komatsu suggests that whereas this was the main feeling in traditional rituals, such as the memorial for needles, more recent "commercial" services express feelings of "regret" for having to dispose of an object-for having to ask something to "retire." 169 More controversial is the notion of guilt. Whereas LaFleur argues that memorial services are "not the expression of some feeling of guilt," 170 others envision guilt as an important component of the psychology of memorial services, especially when the participants have had a direct or indirect role in breaking or wearing out the memorialized objects and also when these objects have been precious and treasured (in fact, there are no memorial services I am aware of for garbage, for instance). 171 Even more controversial is the idea that memorial services are performed out of fear to avert the possibility of a curse (tatari) caused by neglected spirits of the objects. Only Asquith, Miyata, and more cautiously, Komatsu seem to contemplate this possibility. It is interesting to note that none of the priests I interviewed mentioned the possibility of a curse caused by disgruntled objects. 172 On a social level, these rituals address symbolic issues related to community life. They bring together a community, whether a company, an association, or a neighborhood, and thus reinforce a sense of communality and its power relations; in the case of professional associations, they are good also for public relations. In addition, they manifest the "cultural inclination to use apology widely and frequently to restore relationships and solve societal problems." 173 Furthermore, these ceremonies serve to represent an ideal form of sensibility and sociability based, as we have seen, on the display of feelings of gratitude, kindness, and moderation. A book used as a guideline for middle school teachers has a section dedicated to memorial services for needles in which such topics are addressed explicitly. The text explains that mother thanks the needles who have worked with her so well for such a long time; needles certainly understand such kindness on mother's part, and it makes them happy. On the other hand, needles, if abandoned or used at random, can get lost in the tatami and end up hurting someone, so they must be used in a controlled way. The book then states: "Through the memorial services for needles, let's address the topic of people's kindness of heart and let's foster the attitude of taking good care of things." 174 The problem with this kind of statement, though, is: Why should kindness be directed to

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objects and not just (or not so much) to people? The impression is that emphasis on objects and tools fosters a sense of dependence and limitation of individual agency (what I can do, I can do only with the help of tools, which thus need to be thanked). All this is probably related to an unconscious or semiconscious sense of alienation, as also indicated by the constant emphasis on kindness (a sentiment in human relations lacking in a condition of alienation) and on labor exploitation. We should recall in fact that objects are memorialized when they break or get old-that is, when they are no longer functioning or productive-in what amounts to a sort of euthanasia underlain by a utilitarian logic of production and consumption. On an ideological level, memorials address issues of corporate culture, work ethics, consumption and consumerism, and tradition. As noted by Asquith and LaFleur, in the performance of memorial services, there may be "an element of the revitalization of 'folk culture' in urban centers," 175 and "in this-especially when the whole rite is projected to the nation via the nightly news-the Japanese tell themselves once again that their ties with antiquity are intact and that they as a people are not ingrates or irreligious." 176 In an important sense, these rites are a public performance of Japaneseness: They display kindness, gratitude, decorum, moderation, devotion to work, respect of tradition (including social order, ancestors, and authority), standardized collective action, and love for nature (represented by what is usually considered animism). As pointed out by Kimura, memorials for brushes (fude kuyo) are essentially celebrations of the achievements of writers and calligraphers as symbolized by the tools they employ.177 However, to show gratitude toward the tools of one's profession does not necessarily imply that one's achievements are completely dependent on them. These rituals seem to reinforce a sense of strong continuity between a tool, its employer, and the results of labor in a way that evokes Marx's descriptions of the precapitalist mode of production. It would thus appear that in contemporary Japan there are still present ideological fragments of this mode, and it would be wrong to simply dismiss them as mere cases of false conscience. A memorial service also presents anticapitalist, or at least precapitalist, attitudes toward consumption as "a self-reminder that even 'things' are not to be heedlessly or wastefully used." 178 When interpreted within the context of present-day hyperconsumerism, these rituals acquire a complex meaning. Commodified services themselves, these rituals nevertheless present an alternative vision of society.

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From our analysis of the interpretations of the meaning of memorial services for objects as formulated by involved parties, two different modes emerge to envision the goal of these rituals. According to one view, kuyo are performed for the sake of the objects, which can attain Buddhahood through memorialization. According to the other view, memorials are performed for the sake of human beings, who can experience comfort or can liberate that part of their "souls" that had been attached to, or captured by, the memorialized objects. Either way, objects seem to have an ambivalent status. On the positive side, humans are the masters, and objects devote themselves faithfully to their human owners and help them in their work. On the negative side, objects acquire certain dominating, master-like features because they can "capture" (albeit passively) a part of the human spirit. Both interpretations are instances not of animism but of fetishism (perhaps, remnants of a premodern "commodity fetishism"?) and reveal a hidden tension in the attitude of contemporary Japanese toward objects. In more general terms, this is one of those cases in which religious rituals represent/express a sense of contradiction (or anxiety) about social norms and structure, in this case, mode of production and consumption. 179

11 BUDDHIST SACRED COMMODITIES AND THE GENERAL ECONOMY

In this book, I have discussed some of the ways Japanese Buddhism envisions and treats objects-from doctrinal discussions on the status of inanimate entities and the significance of tools and scriptures to rituals concerning the production of sacred objects and the disposal of particular profane commodities. Objects serve as representations of doctrines and ideas, embodiments of the sacred, devotional tools used for merit-making activities, and more generally, as mediators between the sacred and the profane, the everyday and the absolute, the realm of human beings and that of divinities. In this sense, objects have played an essential role in Buddhist transformation of Japan, while at the same time affecting the nature of Japanese Buddhism itself. Buddhist doctrines on the nonsentients and Japanese attitudes toward trees and the natural environment are clear examples of such complex processes of cultural transformation. Japanese Buddhists predicated the presence of the sacred, as they envisioned it, upon natural, material entities such as trees, which had been conceived of, locally, as abodes of the kami. In this way, Buddhists were able to claim control over natural forces, materials (sources of wealth), and local deities at the same time. These processes of reinterpretation, assimilation, and control (both symbolic and political), in one form or another, also lie at the basis of other 259

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specifically Japanese Buddhist objects such as the butsudan and rituals such as the memorials for inanimate objects. In both cases, material entities are envisioned as representing/embodying the sacred, broadly defined to encompass secular moral values, representations of cultural identity, Buddhist doctrines, and various forms of local beliefs and practices. Perhaps, it was precisely such a broad definition of the sacred that enabled Buddhist institutions to penetrate Japanese society and culture; at the same time, Japanese Buddhism acquired a specific flavor that still distinguishes it from other mainstream continental forms of this religion. We have seen that cultural attitudes toward objects, even though they developed within an intellectual field largely dominated by Buddhism, as was especially the case in premodern Japan, in fact resulted from the interaction of numerous different beliefs, intellectual threads, ritual systems, and folkloric habits. We have noted repeatedly that the cultural field of objects was a primary arena of interaction of Buddhism with local cults and traditions and with other imported religious systems such as Confucianism and Daoism. Buddhism has been using objects to operate and represent essential cultural and religious activities, such as the transformation of nature into cultural artifacts and of life into death, and vice versa. Objects are inevitable in human life; interaction with them involves all kinds of human activities, including physical labor, emotions, and semiotic/hermeneutical operations; within the religious field, furthermore, objects are foci of ritual activity. Ferruccio Rossi-Landi indicated that tools and artifacts in general are essential components of what he called the "process of humanization," by which human beings overcome their animal nature and become human. 1 However, this applies not only to work tools and everyday artifacts but also and perhaps even primarily on symbolically conceived religious objects and implements as discussed in this book. As Ernes to De Martino has forcefully stated, the metahistorical dimension of a culture (religion) needs material representations and practices-its own "furniture," as it were-that are in some form related to the actual mode of existence of the specific culture in which they appear. 2 In this respect, it is interesting to note that, in Japan, anti-Buddhist intellectual movements and the resulting policies since the Edo period targeted above all the material dimension of religious institutions and their approaches toward objects and materiality as "excessive" and transcending the strictly utilitarian economicism of the mere everyday dimension of life. The investment in objects and commodities (including rituals and festive performances) involving other aspects than strictly

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defined use- and exchange-values were gestures pointing beyond the everyday dimension of life and, as noted by Yasumaru Yoshio, were considered intrinsically and potentially subversive. 3 From this basic intellectual attitude descended anti-Buddhist persecutions whose main goal was, besides the appropriation of the wealth of religious institutions, the elimination of the symbolic dimension of Buddhism and its reduction to simplistically defined use- and exchange-values (buddha images are mere wood or bronze, ritual activities are a waste of labor and productive time, etc.). Throughout the book, I have used economic terminology such as "commodities" and envisioned rituals as "services" not out of a reductionistic approach or as a manifestation of a vulgar Marxist attitude but for a very different reasonnamely, that I do not consider religious objects useless and religious labor (such as in rituals) unproductive. As I have tried to show, religious objects and operations involving them play a number of very important functions, mostly related to the symbolic dimension of a culture. 4 In this last chapter, I make some theoretical considerations concerning the status and structure of Buddhist objects and related services discussed thus far. Let us begin with a quotation from Arjun Appadurai: Even if our approach to things is conditioned necessarily by the view that things have no meaning apart from those that human transactions, attributions, and motivations endow them with, the anthropological problem is that this formal truth does not illuminate the concrete, historical circulation of things. For that we have to follow the things themselves, for their meanings are inscribed in their forms, their uses, their trajectories. It is only through the analysis of these trajectories that we can interpret the human transactions and calculations that enliven things. 5 Thus, to understand the multiple and shifting Japanese Buddhist attitudes toward material entities ("the human transactions and calculations that enliven things"), we have "followed" the trajectories of some specific objects, their forms, and their uses. A central notion that underpins my treatment is that of "commodity." Several authors, such as Ferruccio Rossi-Landi and Jean Baudrillard, among others, have studied in depth the manifold semiotic values of commodities. In this respect, Arjun Appadurai writes: Commodities represent very complex social forms and distributions of knowledge. In the first place, and crudely, such knowledge can be of two sorts: the knowledge ... that goes into the production of the commodity; and the knowledge that goes into appropriately consuming the commodity. 6

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The objects we have discussed are good examples of at least potential knowledge. They were produced with certain ideas and beliefs in mind and were used in ways that sometimes reflected the producers' ideas and sometimes departed from them. For example, needles were most probably not produced with memorialization as the final goal of their use, and the participants in memorial rituals (commodified services themselves, albeit of a special kind as pertaining to the religious field) 7 do not necessarily share the same knowledge as the "creators" and the performers of those rituals. According to Lefebvre, a commodity is a sign whose signifier is the object and whose signified is the potential satisfaction of its user. 8 This limited definition suggests one of the functions of religious objects, namely, they turn profane matter into a metahistorical, soteriological tool. Soteriology here can be understood in different ways according to the persons involved in the interaction with the object and their social and historical background. Melford Spiro's three dimensions of Buddhism can be helpful once more in synthesizing the effects aimed at with the manipulation of sacred objects. In contemporary Japan, among the soteriological effects much sought after by participants in religious rituals are "peace of mind," introspection, and reflections on one's identity and personality. In any case, sacred commodities become, when envisioned in Japanese Buddhist terms, sources of benefits (including kammatic merit but also, and perhaps more frequently, just mundane satisfaction and peace of mind). Several authors have discussed the semiotic value of objects, especially those used in everyday life. Csikszentmihalyi and Rochberg-Halton write that "[h]ousehold objects constitute an ecology of signs that reflects as well as shapes the pattern of the owner's self." In particular, things represent the ways in which people should spend their time, the nature of their work, and the state of mind with which they should treat the objects. As such, objects "are signs of the way [people] invest a significant portion of their daily attention." More specifically, "even purely functional things serve to socialize a person to a certain habit or way of life and are representative signs of that way of life." 9 No wonder that Buddhism has always been very keen in controlling human interactions with objects. As commodities, things are used in a "profit-oriented, self-centered, and calculated spirit." 10 In Buddhist rituals, however, things are liberated of their nature as commodities and thereby become mediators with the invisible world in a "spirit of reciprocity, sociability, and spontaneity." 11 In other words, Buddhist materiality seems to bring together, or at least to

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position itself at the meeting point of, gift exchange and capitalist rationality. Whereas "a commodity is a thing that has use value and that can be exchanged in a discrete transaction for a counterpart [of] equivalent value," 12 objects de-commodified in religious settings seem to play a role closer to that of gifts exchanged "to open the way for some other kind of transaction." 13 In our case, objects aim to induce a variety of sense effects such as the acquisition of religious/spiritual merit and peace of mind on the part of the owner. As Kopytoff writes, summarizing the extensive sociological and anthropological literature, "gifts are given in order to evoke an obligation to give back a gift, which in turn will evoke a similar obligation-a never-ending chain of gifts and obligations." 14 Rituals are the instances and sites of mediation where worldly things and services are transformed and exchanged with the invisible realm of the buddha; more specifically, material cash or objects are exchanged for spiritual cash-merit. Thus, religious objects acquire a different status as commodities. They are no longer exchanged among human beings. Rather, they enter in a circuit uniting humans and buddhas as a sort of "sacred" commodities exchanged with the invisible to generate material and spiritual merits; the acquisition of the latter in turn will generate other offerings and memorializations. In other words, rituals appropriate material entities, de-commodify them through sacralization, and turn them into a different form of commodities circulating within a religious economy of symbolic goodsY In fact, one could argue that all instances of objects described in this book are special gifts. A buddha image is often a gift from a donor (or several donors) to a temple, but it can also be envisioned as a gift from the Buddha himself, as in the case of miraculous trees used as materials to make icons described in Chapter 4 or images that manifested themselves in this world as an answer to an ascetic's prayer. 16 Buddhist objects can also be gifts from a donor to oneself (amulets but also texts and images used for their apotropaic powers) or to one's community. Buddhist sacred objects are not only participating in some form of communication between humans and buddhas, the visible and the invisible, the sacred and the profane; they are at the same time things that cannot be, and are not supposed to be, exchanged. As Maurice Godelier has written, there can be no human society without two domains: the domain of exchanges, whatever is exchanged and whatever the form of this exchangefrom gift to potlatch, from sacrifice to sale, purchase or trade; and the

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domain in which individuals and groups carefully keep for themselves, then transmit to their descendants or fellow-believers, things, narratives, names, forms of thinkingY Buddhism also deals with these two different domains. It is important to note here that, different from what Godelier maintains, these two domains of culture do not contain different objects, but the same object can circulate from one domain to another. Thus, an amulet can be purchased from the producer and sold to "believers" by a temple, and a butsudan can be purchased and then sacralized. But once acquired as sacred, "magical" objects, the amulet and the butsudan are subtracted from the circuit of commodities and turned into something else, and their disposal requires specific ritual interventions. 18 The same can apply to professional tools, intimate objects such as dolls, and even to special trees envisioned as sacred. In fact, a common thread underlying all cases we have been discussing in this book is a sustained attempt to overcome the mere materiality of objects-their thing-like nature-and to turn them into something else, which, for lack of a better term, we have been calling "sacred." This attempt is carried out in several different ways. On the one hand, there is a theoretical operation: Objects are envisioned as an absolute modality of being or as a mode of existence and manifestation of the supreme Buddha Mahavairocana (the Tendai non-Tantric approach and the Shingon and Tendai Tantric approaches, respectively, both discussed in Chapter 1). On the other hand, the overcoming of the thing-like dimension of objects is carried out through any number of ritual actions: liturgical and devotional settings and practices for Buddhist images and sacred texts, work ceremonies, memorialization. In any case, overcoming thingness implies the attribution to objects of some degree of animation and sentience (not necessarily of intentionality). One possible way to find a common, underlying matrix to these various attempts is by looking at them through the typology of objects that has been proposed by Krszystof Pomian. Pomian has attempted a classification of objects on the basis of their function. He differentiates them into "bodies" (corps), "waste" (dechets), "things" (chases), and "semiophores" (semiophores). 19 For clarity, this terminology can be reformulated as "physical entities," "waste," "tools," and "representational objects," respectively. Physical entities are the raw objects found by humans in their environment; waste refers to objects that humans abandon, evacuate, or destroy because

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they have lost their use and functionality. The third category, tools, includes the objects used to change other objects. Finally, representational objects are all material entities invested with signification. It is apparent that in this book we have discussed instances of all these typologies: inanimates as natural resources (trees etc.), waste (exhausted objects), tools (professional tools and ritual implements), and representational objects (images, books). For Pomian, these four classes of objects are separate, and one object cannot belong to more than one class at a time. However, in the case of Buddhist attitudes toward objects discussed in this book, we can detect two significant, related tendencies: All objects tend to become semiophores while at the same time acquiring aspects of all other classes. For example, sacred texts are clearly linguistic, representational entities, but they are also described as condensation of the entire natural world (physical entities); they serve as ritual implements (tools), and when they deteriorate, they are ritually disposed as sacred "waste." lnanimates are primarily physical entities; however, they are the substance of tools and semiophores, with which they share important features. To take another example, waste can again be memorialized and turned into ritual tools and semiophores (albeit temporarily). In fact, to state it more correctly, Japanese Buddhism seems to attempt to turn all objects into special kinds of semiophores-that is, entities endowed with particular sense and value beyond their material and functional value or potentiality. The value of objects is traditionally studied by political economy; the limitations of traditional approaches to understand the cultural value of objects have been indicated several times since Karl Marx's analyses. More recently, Jean Baudrillard has proposed an interpretive model that considers four kinds of value of objects. They are use-value, the function for which an object is used; exchange-value, the economic cost of the object as it is calculated by standard economic formulas (it includes cost of material employed, cost of labor, profits made by the producers and distributors, etc.); sign-value, the structural meaning of an object as defined by appositional relations that establish themselves in the semantic system of a given culture; and symbolic-value, a vague term referring to a form of exchange, such as the gift, which denies economic motivations. However, even Baudrillard's typology, for all its merits, 20 cannot explain satisfactorily the value of sacred objects and scriptures in particular. The use-value of scriptures is clearly not directly related to their exchange-value.

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Consider, for example, the case of a scripture that has been found or revealed through divine intervention: What is the exchange-value of the sutra received by Nagarjuna inside the Iron Tower? Even though records report sutra scrolls stolen and sold for money-exchange-value (as I mentioned in Chapter 3, some of these artifacts did in fact have a sizable economic value), that was not the true value of those scriptures, at least to a number of people. On the other hand, use-value together with the preciousness of the material and the specialized nature of the labor (exchange-value) involved in making sacred objects concur to establish sacredness (in both ways: they can either enhance or reduce it). The hermeneutic value is essentially independent of all this. However, a general worldview or ideological orientation (e.g., original enlightenment doctrines), which can be related or not to the hermeneutic dimension, can be represented by a combination of exchangeand symbolic-value. Thus, I propose to revise Baudrillard's fourfold typology in the following way. Use-value should also include religious functions. In the case of Buddhism, objects can have at least three functions corresponding to the three forms of Buddhism as defined by Melford Spiro: magic (protection, divination, etc.), karmatic (merit making in a mundane context), and eschatologic (the quest for ultimate salvation). Exchange-value should take into considerations all kinds of labor (e.g., manual and semiotic labor) involved in the production and use of objects. Semiotic labor includes activities needed for the actualization of a project into an object as based on semiotic relations-what Umberto Eco defines as ratio facilis and ratio difficilis. 21 It also includes design strategies, aesthetic effects, additional value (e.g., produced by the fact that the makers are famous professionals etc.), and ritual labor (the labor required to use the object in its specific ritual settings). In some cases, exchange-value may also include the value of additional objects and/or services necessary to use the original object correctly. It should be noted that many Japanese Buddhist rituals are performed for a nominal fee that does not seem directly related to clearly defined economic criteria. People in Japan were aware of this fact already in the Edo period (if not before), as when Hiraga Gennai sarcastically wrote that with a few coins a person can buy one's ticket to the Pure Land. 22 The same is true for religious objects, the cost of which is often covered by donations given by several people. Sign-value should be understood as a sort of "hermeneutic value." It includes the meanings of objects (including texts) and rituals as understood

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by traditional semiotic and hermeneutic approaches strictu sensa. The hermeneutical significance of these commodities consists in their being signs and representations of culturally defined semantic units such as "Buddhism," "Japanese tradition," "morality," and "salvation" (including "peace of mind" and "merit"). Meaning depends on the nature of the sign/text. Of course, artistic representation and written texts tend to have a much richer and more articulated meaning than most artifacts. Symbolic-value should be envisioned as the set of ideological orientations and worldviews within which objects are produced, used, and handed down. Symbolic-value has a specific experiential dimension, which could be described as a feeling of belonging to a larger transindividual group and a sense of agreement with general ideas. It points to the essential unity of objects and participants within a sacred realm (the divinities or, in certain cases, the state) experienced in affective terms. In my formulation, which differs from Baudrillard's and other interpretations based on Marx's political economy, the hermeneutic value of an object is for all practical purposes independent of other values; accordingly, an object can be used even without any hermeneutic considerations. (In fact, most people employ objects in general, not only sacred objects, unaware of their meanings.) In addition, these four categories are not objective and absolute but depend on the observer. For example, in a cynical perspective, the use-value of sacred objects (including sutras) is the exploitation of people's ignorance and superstition and the mere acquisition of wealth through performance of rituals and the sale of religious objects. In contrast, for a believer, offerings and expenses related to religious services have the use-value as, say, token of gratitude and merit-making activities. In some cases, the cost of religious activities can also be envisioned as a social obligation-a sort of fee that is necessary to pay to live in a Buddhist society. In addition, these four categories are connected to each other in complex and different ways; according to the object and the context, one or more categories can dominate the others. This fact can generate several possible combinations, which, once made explicit and analyzed, can be helpful for a fuller comprehension of the object in question. For example, in some cases, use- and symbolic-values can concur in determining the exchange-value (rituals and objects that are highly charged symbolically tend to cost more). In other cases, it is the exchange-value that determines use- and symbolic-values (a precious sutra scroll might be envisioned as possessing an enhanced power). In still other cases, hermeneutic value can affect use- and exchange-values.

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Symbolic-value, in particular, is the dimension in which sacralization, envisioned here as the transcending of the mundane, material role of objects, is accomplished. It is an affective, spiritual dimension that emphasizes the relationship between human beings and the divinities but also human interactions and forms of access to individual consciousness. In this sense, the world of the inanimates is not just a third realm in addition to the realm of buddhas and that of sentient beings-as indicated by traditional Buddhist accounts introduced at the beginning of Chapter 1-but a space of interplay between the latter two, the only dimension where an exchange between the profane and the sacred can take place. The symbolic-value of objects can be variously represented on a semiotic, hermeneutical level as ritual, tradition, morality, cultural identity, and even as particular forms of economic behavior. Important social and economic transformations that occurred in Japan since the middle ages-namely, the diffusion of forms of proto-capitalism, beginning with the urban areas of the Kyoto-Osaka region-forced religious institutions to develop new attitudes, doctrines, and rituals. New economic processes and their consequences, such as commodification and changing attitudes about things, became the targets of new religious operations. This is probably how memorial services for exhausted objects originated. Religious institutions already had a vocabulary and a set of conceptual tools and images that could be used, such as the doctrines on the innately sentient nature of things and the possibility for objects to become buddhas. They also had ritual forms, originally unrelated to such doctrines, that could be adapted to the new products, such as funerals and, in the case of Shingon, goma fire sacrifices. To make these new products more appealing to a larger audience, religious institutions had to simplify their philosophical doctrines on the one hand and emphasize moral attitudes (e.g., gratitude, selflessness) and psychological states (e.g., guilt and peace of mind) on the other. They also had to refer to (i.e., to invent or re-invent) "traditional" concepts such as "old" ideas about "animism" and the possible curses (tatari) caused by neglected objects discarded in an improper manner. The convergence of these different discursive planes resulted in the early memorial services for objects in the Edo period. Further transformations occurred in more recent times, during the rapid economic growth of Japan between the 196os and 198os. Kuyo rituals proliferated and became moments in local festivals and occasions to advertise other more central services of temples, such as funerals and bene-

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dictions of various kinds. The focus has shifted once more from services for professionals and their tools (tea whisks, cut trees, needles, etc.), to festive, public events (dolls, letters, bras, etc.), and from objects' curses to the owner's peace of mind. Rituals have become more commodified, in the sense that now they often have the status of services that are purchased for their sign-value rather than for their exchange-value. Similar processes resulted in the development of a cult of secret buddhas 23 and in the sacralization of professional tools. These were parts of new strategies enacted by religious institutions to expand their social basis and the types of services they offered. Secret buddhas developed out of pre-existing ideas and practices of representations of the sacred, carried out by specific segments of the temples' society and directed at an increasingly wider audience. In modern times, the focus of interest shifted from the miraculous aspects of those images to their "beauty" (artistic and nationalistic aspects), while still retaining an aura of extraordinariness. The sacralization of professional tools, on its part, was probably the result of the diffusion of monastic and liturgical ideas and activities to a set of objects and practices that were originally unrelated to them, as a way to increase the symbolic influence of Buddhist institutions within society at large. In particular, what previously marked a way of thinking and living as "Buddhists," such as buddha images, butsudan, and memorial services for objects, labor, and nature, after modernization became signs of Japaneseness. Japanese treatments of objects show a constant fluctuation between matter and mind, as when the butsudan is described as a "washing machine for one's heart/mind" or in the statement "The most important Buddhist implement (butsugu) is one's faith." 24 Hatta Yukio also writes that before it is animated by the ritual intervention of a priest (the eye-opening ceremony), the butsudan is just a "mere thing"; after this ceremony, however, it becomes "a sacred place displaying the great spirit of the universe." Conversely, lack of practice results in the "death" of the butsudan. 25 This general attitude comes from traditional (and doctrinally grounded) treatments of icons; it was gradually extended to professional tools and, more recently, to objects in general to which one becomes especially attached (for any number of reasons). In this way, objects become machines that purify their users'/practitioners' minds and allow them to experience a dimension of sanctity. Today, Buddhist rituals, and in part people's relations with Buddhist objects, are often not ways to express beliefs but rather means to

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give shape to inner feelings (kimochi). This is particularly evident in the case of memorial ceremonies for objects that are no longer functional. The cultural trend to express one's feelings and emotions through fashionable commodities was perhaps first described and codified in Tanaka Yasuo's I98o novel Nantonaku, kurisutaru. 26 In the same way, the role of Buddhist objects as producers of "atmosphere" indicates their owners' status and sensibility. Often, such a representation is not outwardly directed as part of a communicative process, but the object functions as a tool to give shape to the owner's feelings in a process of self-awareness (or self-indulgence?)Y In this sense, Buddhist objects contribute to the creation and preservation, even though in somewhat negative terms, of the general symbolism (including atmospheric effects) of the places and spaces of contemporary Japanese culture. Interestingly, the potential for all of these objects to become "waste" is always present. They can in fact be reduced to a sort of cultural limboif not outright waste-a cultural realm of disposable entities that people "can do without" with no apparent inconvenience. 28 And yet, on the other hand, we also see a tendency to proliferate sacred commodities (understood as both objects and ritual services) that affects all segments of Japanese society. Why, then, all this emphasis on an unchanging and unbroken Japanese tradition? And exactly what is "tradition"? As Raymond Williams wrote, the term tradition refers to a description of a general process of handing down, but there is a very strong and often predominant sense of this entailing respect and duty. When we look at the detailed processes of any of these traditions, indeed when we realize that there are traditions ... , and that only some of them or parts of them have been selected for our respect and duty, we can see how difficult Tradition really is, in an abstract or exhortatory or, as so often, ratifying use. 29 This is connected to a more general functioning of culture: "a culture," at its most general level ... is never a form in which people happen to be living, at some isolated moment, but a selection and organization, of past and present, necessarily providing for its own kinds of continuity ... [Culture as] a form is inherently reproducible ... A tradition is the process of reproduction in action. 30

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This definition goes against superficial descriptions of tradition as plain reproduction (in the sense of continuous and unbroken repetition of the same) of cultural forms. Williams continues: Tradition ("our cultural heritage") is self-evidently a process of deliberate continuity, yet any tradition can be shown, by analysis, to be a selection and reselection of those significant received and recovered elements of the past which represent not a necessary but desired continuity ... this "desire" is not abstract but is effectively defined by existing general social relations ... Indeed it is characteristic of tradition, and of crucial importance for its place in culture, that under certain social conditions alternative and even antagonistic traditions can be generated within the same society. 31 Representations of the past keep being amended to fit or generate "desirable or possible continuities." 32 Particularly important for our topic is what Williams calls "operative reselection of the tradition which is necessary to keep it relevant and powerful in changing conditions." 33 Therefore, if Williams is correct, it would be misleading and inaccurate to talk about lasting "beliefs of the Japanese" to suggest that a more or less unified body of beliefs is being handed down in an unchanged form from one generation to another since antiquity within a homogeneous national collectivity. The social, cultural, and economic structure of society in the Japanese archipelago kept changing, and doctrines and ritual forms were adapted to new social and cultural concerns. The beliefs in the sacredness of and the cults for certain trees and stones in ancient Japan were quite different (doctrinally, culturally, ideologically) from Buddhist ideas about the general becoming buddha of all plants and inanimate things; memorial services for dolls or floppy disks are not directly and explicitly related to either. Therefore, an oversimplified discourse of cultural and spiritual continuity is misleading. What we have instead is a series of loosely related doctrines and rituals (religious and philosophical doctrines about the ontological and soteriological status of inanimate objects, sacrificial rituals involving inanimate objects, popular exhortative sermons advertising the services of one Buddhist sect, folkloric tales and practices, etc.) that are part of a hypothetical cultural encyclopedia (cultures do keep a record of their past) and that can be revived and used in different contexts and historical periods with different meanings and for different purposes. 34 Still, tradition and traditionalization processes, as defined by Raymond Williams, can also be

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envisioned as forms of implementation, on both levels of social practices and identity construction, of metahistorical structures and representations studied by Ernesto De Martino. If this is the case, then, should we draw the conclusion that contemporary memorial services for objects or practices surrounding secret buddhas, for instance, are the result of a purely arbitrary and gratuitous combination of cultural elements? Probably not. There seems to be a common thread unifying the various stages in the historical development of sacred objects and related religious services as they are today, and that common thread is a Buddhist form of what Georges Bataille called "general economy." 35 Parallel to the Japanese economic "boom" between the 196os and 198os, temples developed memorial services for objects as a way to diversify their offer in the realm of what Pierre Bourdieu calls the economy of symbolic goods. 36 It is possible that these modern rituals are adaptations/revivals/ transformations of earlier rituals performed by villages and professional guilds and connected to labor, as in the case of calligraphers, tea ceremonialists, doll makers, tree cutters, and so forth. A confirmation of this hypothesis is the fact that the oldest memorial services seem to be those related to traditional crafts tools and to memorial stones (kuyoto) dedicated to a tree that had been cut down, bearing inscriptions referring to the esoteric Buddhist idea that plants and inanimate objects in general become buddhas (somoku hijo jobutsu). This doctrine can be traced further back in Japanese religious and intellectual history to the early Heian period (ninth century). On the other hand, we have seen that late medieval and early modern culture deals with the life power of things. Analogous considerations can be made concerning the cult of Buddhist scriptures. Despite the differences in genre, context, audience, historical period, intellectual content, and ideology, all these elements in the genealogies of the significance of sacred objects and their rituals point to some connections between religious discourses and practices about objects and economic and cultural trends-in particular, temple control over landholdings in the middle ages, the development of a monetary economy and early form of capitalism during the Muromachi and Edo periods, the general restructuring of the religious field in the modern era, rapid economic growth in postwar Japan, and contemporary information society. What unifies this nebula of doctrines and practices is the fact that, in certain moments of Japanese history, religious institutions have used them to assert their economic influence or to develop new

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religious markets in new sociopolitical and economic situations so that they could exercise their influence on society. Obviously, we are not talking here only about the direct economic wealth of religious institutions; far more significant is their symbolic capital. In other words, sacred objects point to an incessant dialogue between religion, economics, representation, and power. The history of Buddhist materiality and the related attitudes toward objects form a condensed cultural history of Japanese religion, beginning with the process of diffusion of Buddhism, its multiple interactions with local cults, and proceeding with the development of new forms of religiosity. In modern times, when most of the historical background has been forgotten or ignored, religious objects serve to display and reproduce a sense of tradition and to transmit to the individual a feeling of embodiment of traditional values. The system of Buddhist objects seems to constitute a peculiar case of commodity fetishism that reverses Marx's definition. For Marx, commodities become fetishes when they hide the actual social relations of production and domination of which they are the outcome; in the case of Buddhist sacred objects, in contrast, relations between an object and its users, producers, and actual processes involved tend to be emphasized, displayed, and sacralized. It is in this sense that sacred objects function as interfaces, and the realm of materiality in general can be defined as a space of interplay between the secular, the sacred, and their respective economies (systems of production, exchange, and representation). Of course, notions of secular and sacred are not fixed and immutable. This fact is represented in philosophical terms by the continuous oscillations in Buddhist doctrines between definitions of objects as nonsentient entities and animate beings and between emphasis on their "physical" aspects and their "spiritual" properties. Also because of these fundamental ambiguities, interactions with objects are an important way for Buddhism, and Japanese religion in general, to intervene in the realm of the profane, in the everyday life of the Japanese.

NOTES

Introduction I. See Hakamaya 1989, 1990. 2. For a collection of responses to Critical Buddhism, see Hubbard and Swanson, eds., 1997. 3. Baudrillard 1996: 4· 4· Reader and Tanabe 1998: 31. 5· Buruma and Margalit 2004: 109. 6. On this point, see, for example, McDannell 1995: 5-6. 7· Schopen 1997: I. 8. Ibid. 9· Ibid. 10. Ibid.: 13-!4· 11. See, for instance, Faure 1998; Sharf 1995, 1999; Sharf and Sharf, eds., 2oor; Swearer 2004; Ruppert 2ooo; Strong 2004. 12. Spiro 1982. 13. Descriptions of the uses of such objects, but without sustained analyses of their doctrinal and conceptual status, are important parts of sociological and anthropological studies. See, for example, Reader 1991; Reader and Tanabe 1998. 14· A recent study by John Kieschnick on the material culture of Chinese Buddhism partially redresses such misperceptions. See Kieschnick 2003. 15. Baudrillard 1996: 4· 16. See in particular Kuroda 1975, 1980; Sato 1986; Taira 1992. 17. Faure 2003: 17.

Chapter

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I. These expressions referring to the nonsentients and the realm of objects are related to concepts such as "sentient beings" (ujo ), "living beings" (shujo ), "realm of sentient beings" (shujokai), and "realm of the Buddhas" (bukkai).

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The karmic environment (eh a) is related to karmic retribution proper (shi5bi5 ), the particular body-mind complex that forms the subjectivity of a sentient being as a result of karma. 2. The role of plants as objects is particularly evident in the art form known as ikebana, in which vegetal elements are isolated from their contexts to form examples of abstract expressionism that point to the nature of the vegetal as object. It is also seen in premodern iron sculptures representing trees and branches, known as tetsuju (iron trees). 3· For a well-known Chinese example, see Kieschnick 2003: 27; on Japan, see the essays in Motoyama 1978. 4· Living beings are classified according to the four ways in which they are born: from the womb of the mother, from eggs, from moisture, and spontaneously (the latter includes mostly supernatural beings). The Six Destinations are deities, humans, asura, animals, hungry ghosts, and denizens of hell. 5· Kawasaki 1986; on Bhavaviveka, see also Eckel 1992. 6. See Schmithausen 1991a, esp. 83-96 and I02-I03. The Sutra of Golden Light (SuvanJabhiisottama-Sittra, Ch. Jinguang ming jing) equates a dead human body with a useless, inert log; a corpse is "thrown down in a cemetery like a piece of wood"; Emmerick, trans., 1970: 21. 7· Quoted in Schmithausen 1991a: 5· 8. Ibid.: 8. 9· See Schmithausen 1991a, 1991b: 8 and passim. Stories about tree-spirits who communicate with human beings appear in the ]iitaka; according to these tales, Buddha himself was reborn several times as a tree-spirit; see Henrichs 1979: 102-103. As an additional example, a tree-spirit speaks with the Buddha in the Sutra of Golden Light (Jinguang ming jing, T 16: 357b and passim). However, some Buddhist monks (at least, as they are envisioned in these texts) did not apparently share such beliefs: Schmithausen 1991a: 12-q. 10. Ibid.: 5· 11. On this subject, see Coomaraswamy 1980; Sutherland 1991; see also Nugteren 2005. 12. T 12: 405b, 522-528, and passim. 13. T 12: 581a. I4· In this context, it is interesting to note that the well-known Japanese locution somoku kokudo shikkai jobutsu ("plants and the territory all become buddhas") does not seem to have Chinese precedents. It appears for the first time in the writings of the Japanese Tendai priest Annen in the second half of the ninth century. 15. For a general overview, see Miyamoto r96r: 672-674; Kamata 1965: 434-474; Hibi 1975: 71-76; Akao 1984. 16. On the Buddha-nature of nonsentients according to Huiyuan, see Liu 1985; Penkower 1993: 439-442, n. 82. For the position of the Sanlun school on the subject, see Koseki 1980. 17. Dasheng xuanlun, T 45: 40a-4rb. On the Buddha-nature of nonsentients according to Jizang, see Penkower 1993: 459-462, n. 114. Plassen 1997

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argues that for Jizang positing the Buddha-nature of nonsentients was a logical and propedeutical device to relativize opposite tenets (the superficial and the deep truth) and thus to be able to point to a higher level truth. 18. T 46: rc. 19. On the heterogeneous nature of the concept of plants becoming buddhas in China, see, for example, Kamata 1968: 79-89; 1965: 434-474; Sakamoto 1980: 384-396. 20. Miyamoto 1961: 683-686. 2r. On Zhanran, see Penkower 1993· 22. Zhiguan fuxing zhuan hang jue, T 46: rpc-r52a. 23. T 12: 581a. 24. T 46: 784a; translated in Penkower 1993: 510. 25. See Kamata 1968: 86-87; Fukunaga r98r. 26. Watson, trans., 1968: 241. The Zhuangzi emphasizes the presence of the Dao also in lowly entities; however, it is interesting to note that excrements (waste ejected by sentient beings) constitute a sort of liminal area between sentients and nonsentients. 27. Fung 1983, 2: 386. 28. LaFleur 1973: 97· 29. Penkower 1993: 8. 30. On the impact of Song Buddhist ideas on nonsentients on Kamakura Buddhism, see, for example, Tamura 1973: 537, 1991: 347-363. 31. On kenmitsu Buddhism, see Kuroda 1975; Sato 1986; Taira 1992; Dobbins, ed., 1996; see also Rambelli 1994. 32. On Tendai hongaku doctrines, see Tamura 1991; Stone 1999. 33· TZ r: 8b-c. 34· T 77: 406 a-b. 35· See, for instance, his Himitsu mandarakyo fuhoden, KDZ r: 3· 36. Sokushin jobutsugi, T 77: 382c. 37· Kongochogyo kaidai, TKDZ 4: 91. 38. Such as Jingang ding yuqie jing shibahui zhigui, T 18: 284a-287c; Dale jingang bukong zhenshi sanmoye jing banruo bolomituo liqu shi, T 19: 6o9b-6roa; ]ingangding yuqie Jingangsaduo wu bimi xiuxing niansong yigui, T 20: 535b, 538c; and the Tuoluonimen zhubu yaomu, T r8: 898c-899a. 39· T 77: 282c-283a. 40. Modern scholars doubt this attribution dating back at least to the second half of the Heian period; see Matsuzaki 1986: 79-90. 41. See Shishu mandara gi, KDZ 4: 251. 42. Ibid.: 252. 43· Ibid. 44· T 18: 44a. 45· Shishu mandara gi, KDZ 4: 252-253. 46. Ibid.: 252. 47· T 18: 9rob; see Rambelli 2000: 373-374. This text is indicated as translated by Subhakarasirpha (Shanwuwei, 637-735), but most likely it is an

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apocryphon, composed either in China during the late Tang dynasty or, perhaps, in japan, after the tenth century. 4S. For a general introduction to the Shingon doctrines of plants becoming buddhas, see also Kamei 1966. 49· This position is articulated and criticized in Raiho, Shingon honmoshit, ZSZ 21: 53-5S; In'yii, Kohitsu shitshitsho, SZ r8: 362-363; Senpo intonsho, sz 20: 196-199· 50. See pp. 31-32 of this chapter. 5r. On the doctrine of the three fundamental modalities ofthe universe (sandai) and on the four kinds of mandala (shishu mandara), see Rambelli 1991. 52· For a study of one of the most interesting Shingon documents on the problem of the nonsentients, namely, the section on somoku jobutsu in In'yii's Senpo intonsho, with a transcription of the entire text, see Ito 1996. 53· The source of this interpretation is Kiikai, Sokushin jobutsugi, T 77 : 382. 54· Jichihan, Daikyoyogi sho, DNBZ 42: 438-4 39· Subsequently, Kakuban developed the doctrine of this supreme modality of the Buddha-body, which he variously called "six element Dharmakaya" (rokudai hosshin), "Dharmadhatu body" (hokkaishin), and "signless body" (musoshin); see Kakuban, Gorin kujimyo himitsushaku, T 79: r8c; Shingon sanmitsu shugyo mondo, in Kogyo Daishi senjutsushit r: 92-93. On this subject, see Kamei 1942; Kato 1978; Matsuzaki 1962. 55· Raiho, Shingon honmoshit, ZSZ 21: 53· Raiho adds that differences in objects "are due to yin and yang and to the workings of principle (ri) and wisdom (chi)"; ibid. A reference to yin and yang doctrines is also present in the Muromachi period otogizoshi entitled Tsukumogami ki discussed in Chapter 6. 56. See, for example, Ryiiyu (I77}-I85o), Hizoki shuyoki (I842), sz 9: 416-417; In'yii, Kohitsu shushusho, SZ r8: 279-284. 57· Dohan, Shosoku: 76. 58. On Shingon pneumatology, see Sanford 1994. 59· In'yu, Senpo intonsho, SZ 20: 196-199; see also Ryiiyu, Hizoki shityoki, sz 9: 416-417. 6o. Quoted in In'yii, Kohitsu shushitsho, SZ 21: 28r. 6r. See pp. 43-44 of this chapter. 62. In'yii, Kohitsu shitshusho, SZ 21: 362. 63. Shinzoku zakki mondosho, SZ 37= ro. 64. Ibid. 65. According to the Shingon teachings, when one secret is activated, the other two secrets are generated as well; see Kakuban, Gorin kujimyo himitsushaku. Kiikai wrote that the Three Secrets of the Dharmakaya are present also in plants and stones: Unjigi, 407a. 66. Raiho, Shingon honmoshu, ZSZ 21: 53-58. 67. Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 21: 362; see also Raiho, Shingon honmoshu, zsz 21: 53·

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68. Hizoki shuyoki, SZ 9: 416-417. 69. Somoku jobutsu so, quoted m In'yii, Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 2r: 280-28!. 70. See pp. 39-40 of this chapter. 71. Gozo mandara waeshaku, copy preserved at Kanazawa Bunko, fasc. r and 2. I am grateful to professor Manabe Shunsho, former director of the Kanazawa Bunko, for his kind help with this text. 72. Seep. r6 of this chapter. 73· See pp. 21-23. The Tendai school also developed similar arguments (see pp. 34-38). 74· In the Zhuangzi, we find statements such as "the four seasons have their clear-marked regularity"; "the ten thousand things have their principles of growth" (Watson, trans., 1968: 236); "The fruits of trees and vines have their patterns and principles. Human relationships too ... have their relative order and precedence" (ibid.: 239-240). 75· Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 2r: 283. 76. Quoted in In'yii, ibid. 77· Raiyu, Shinzoku zakki mondosho, SZ 37: 26-29; see also Kiikai, Hizoki; In'yii, Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 21: 283. 78. In'yii, Senpo intonsho, SZ 20: 198. The title "Ak§obhya's Ritual Procedures" refers perhaps to the Achu rulai niansong gongyang fa, trans. Amoghavajra (Bukong, 705-774), but I have not been able to find the passage mentioned by In'yii. 79· For an overview and a critique of this Orientalist stereotype, see Kalland and Asquith 1997; see also Chapter 4· 8o. In'yii, Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 21: 363; see also Dohan, quoted ibid.:

280-283.

8r. In'yii writes that according to the Abhidharmakosa, to dig the earth and to cut trees are a sin (Kohitsu shushusho, SZ 21: 284); however, the Shingon practitioner cuts trees for ritual purposes (kuyo) and to make buddha images; ibid.: 363. 82. The formula is varrz hurrz tral; hrll; a a arrz al; a rrzl?. See Gashusho by Shinkaku (III7-II8o) with further additions by cloistered Prince Shukaku (II50-I2or), SZ 36: 319. On the use of this formula, see also Yugi hiyoketsu (1357) by Shoshin (I287-1357), SZ 5: r85. 83. See Kimura 1988. On tree loggers' rituals, see also Chapter 4· 84. The five organs are the liver, the lungs, the heart, the kidneys, and the spleen. The gorinto is a stupa-like object constituted by the five elementary geometrical shapes-namely, from bottom to top, square, circle, triangle, crescent, and sphere. The practitioner has to envision him- or herself in such a stupa-like form. This meditation technique is based on the Sanzhong xidi po diyu zhuan yezhang chu sanjie mimi tuoluoni fa (T r8: 905) and was developed in Japan by Kakuban in his Gorin kujimyo himitsushaku (T 79: 2514). For further details, see Rambelli 2000.

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85. The text is dated 1317 (Bunpo 1) (Nihon shiso toso s: 540), but that is a spurious date because the text's content points to the late Muromachiearly Edo periods-the time when its author lived. On this text, see Sanford 1997· 86. The Hosso school was the traditional rival of the Tendai establishment not only in terms of doctrines but also in more secular matters such as court politics, economics, and control over the territory. Particularly famous are the periodical struggles opposing Enryakuji and Kofukuji as well as their branch temples. In this heated atmosphere, doctrinal debates also acquired extra-philosophical significance. On this subject, see McMullin 1989. 87. For a historical overview of Tendai discussions of vegetal Buddhahood, see Miyamoto 1961; Tamura 1991. See also Misaki 1999; Asai 1973: 155-159, 233-23~ 355, 570-573,752-75~ 88. See Tamura 1973: 541-545; 1990: 70-71,457-495. 89. Hanano 1977 only mentions the classical Mahayana doctrines and the teachings of original enlightenment, thus ignoring the importance of the esoteric tradition (Taimitsu). 90. Saicho, Chit Kongohiron, in Dengyo Daishi zenshit 4· The issue is also addressed in the Futsuwaku shitchitsaku (Dengyo Daishi zenshit 3: 314-317), an apocryphal text attributed to Saicho but written by a Tendai priest perhaps after 818 or during the Insei era; see Hanano 1976, 15/r. 91. Shugo kokkai sho, in Dengyo Daishi zenshit 2: esp. 524-525. 92. Toketsu, in Nihon Daizokyo 78: 218-219. 93· Ibid.: 201-202. 94· Zhiyi, Mohe zhiguan, T 46: re; Zhanran, Zhiguan fuxing zhan hong jue, T 46: 1pc-152a. 95· Toketsu, in Nihon Daizokyo 78: 174-175. We should note that this kind of ethical concern for the destiny of nonsentients appropriated for human use was not completely absent in Chinese Buddhist sources and doctrinal speculation. For example, the Chan master Nanyang Huizhong was once asked why, if all things are endowed with Buddha-nature, harming a nonsentient does not entail karmic retribution as in the case of killing a sentient being. Huizhong replied that karmic retribution is due to the fact that sentient beings resent being killed or injured, whereas nonsentients do not. In the same text, it is argued that if it is really true that the whole earth is the body of the Buddha Mahavairocana, then all living beings dwelling in the Buddha-body would stain it with their excrements and injure it by digging the ground and trampling on it. Huizhong replied that since living beings are all buddhas there is nobody there to commit an offense to the Buddha-body (Jingdu zhuandeng lu, T p: 438b, quoted in Schmithausen 1991b: 24, n. 141). 96. The dating is according to Sueki 1995a: 382. Annen, Shinjo somoku jobutsu shiki, in Sueki 199 sa: 713; Shingonshit kyojigi, T 75: 436b; Taizo kongo bodaishingi ryaku mondosho, T 75: 484c. 97· Somoku kokudo shikkai jobutsu, Chisan zensho n: 35U· 98. Mizukagami: 103-104.

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99· Quoted in Sakamoto 1980: 397· roo. Zhongyin jing, T 12: ro64b. ror. Sakamoto 1980: 397· ro2. Ibid.: 398. 103. Da baoji jing, T II: I50a. 104. Zhongyin jing, T 12: ro67c-ro68a. 105. Weimojie suoshuo jing, T q: 538c and passim. ro6. On this apocryphal passage and its role in the development of the doctrines on the salvation of plants, especially as it presented in No plays, see Watanabe 2002; Miyamoto 1961: 263-265. 107. Genshin, Sanshingi shiki, DNBZ 24: 330c. ro8. Zhili's thoughts are included in the Siming Zunzhe Jing xing lu, T 46: 89ob. The problem of the salvation of the material world was one of the questions that Genshin's disciple Jakusho (d. 1034) brought to Zhili in 1003. The exchange between Genshin and Zhili is the subject of the novel by Koda Rohan entitled Renkanki, originally published in 1940. 109. Dozui is the author of Makashikanron kuketsu zangi, DNBZ 15. uo. Shoshin, Hokke sandaibu shiki, "Shikan shiki," DNBZ 21: 798-802. On Shoshin, see Miyamoto 1961: 68r-683; Hanano 1975-1977 (3); Okubo 1998; and Taimon kenkyiikai, eds., 2002. ur. Koken was the author of Byakujahen of 1694; on Koken and the impact of this work, see Bodiford 2oo6. See also Chishii, Daishu nihyakudai: 286; Fujaku, Makashikan fukushin sho, DNBZ 23: 389. rr2. According to Tamura Yoshiro (Tamura 1973: 478), Reikii Koken's criticism against the Genshi kimyodan movements marked the end of hongaku thought and ritual practices. Genshi kimyodan (lit., "profound purport" and "altar of faith") is the collective term designating two forms of radical interpretation of doctrines and practices related to the concept of original enlightenment developed in medieval Tendai. Its extreme form of nondualism, emphasizing negative aspects of the human condition (afflictions etc.) as the supreme embodiments of Suchness, raised much criticism as intrinsically heretical. On Genshi kimyodan, see Stone 1999: 130-135· II3. Annen, Sokushin jobutsugi shiki, DNBZ 24: 2r6; Sueki 1995a: 6sr-652. rq. ]uketsushu, T 74: 3o8b-c. II5. Asai Endo in particular raises doubts on Enchin's authorship of this text; see Asai 1973: 405. u6. Richi ichimonshu, DNBZ 24: 153; DNBZ 28: II97· II7. The idea occurs in numerous medieval texts; see, for example, the Sanno Gongen wasan, quoted in Fukuhara 1978: 71 u8. Richi ichimonshu, DNBZ 24: 153; DNBZ 28: II97· II9. T 76: 509. 120. Tenkai, Ichijitsu shinto soja kuketsu, TZ 19: 245; see also Misaki 1999: 396. On the significance of the expression "green willows and red flowers" in the East Asian Buddhist tradition, see Misaki 1999: 586-644.

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r21. On Annen's doctrines concerning plants and the nonsentients, see Shinkawa 1992; on his vision of becoming a buddha, see Sokushin jobutsugi shiki, DNBZ 24; Sueki 199sa: 523-653. 122. T 75= 487C. 123. Annen, Shingonshu kyojigi, T 75: 387b-c, 431-432, 436-438; see also Taizo kongo bodaishingi ryaku mondosho, T 75: 484. In the Shingonshu kyojigi, Kiikai's Shoji jissogi is quoted as Monji jissogi. 124. Shingonshu kyojigi, T 75: 421a. 125. T 18: 38b-c. 126. T 75: 485b-488. See also Shinkawa, 1992: 94-96. 127. Sueki Fumihiko, who has studied this work thoroughly, argues convincingly that the first word in the original title was shinjo and not kantei (or kanjo) as usually thought; Sueki 1995a: 378. 128. Shinjo somoku jobutsu shiki, in Sueki 199sa: 706. 129. Ibid.: 775· 130. Based on a story narrated in Xuanzang, Da Tang xiyu ji, T 51: 91oc. 131. Scholars have raised doubts on the authorship of this text; however, Hanano 1975-1977 (2) argues convincingly for the correctness of the traditional attribution to Kakuun and Ryogen (qo-144). 132. See Tamura 1973: 540-541; Sueki 1991: 53· At the end of the text the name of Chiijin's disciple Kokaku (second half of the twelfth century) appears, who attributes to Genshin the teachings he writes down. Both Tamura Yoshiro and Sueki Fumihiko think this text was written in the first half of the thirteenth century: Tamura 1973: s66-s68. 133. Tamura 1973: 540-541; Sueki 1991. It is interesting to note that scholars such as Sakamoto Yukio and Miyamoto Shoson did not question the traditional authorship of hongaku texts, thus proposing a mistaken picture of historical developments. On the nature of Tendai hongaku texts and their systematic attribution to past masters, see Tamura, 1973; 1991; Kuroda 1989; and Stone 1999. 134. For a transcription of the debate, see Owa shuronki, DNBZ 124: 88; other transcriptions appear in Jinten ainosho (DNBZ 150: 397-399) and in Taiheiki (NKBT 35: 426). Okubo Ryoshun mentions another text attributed to Ryogen, entitled Hossoshu jugi, which addresses the same issues; see Okubo 1998: 65-67. On the Owa debate, see McMullin 1989. 135. LaFleur 1973: 103. 136. Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki, DNBZ 24: 345a. 137. Ibid.: 345a-b. 138. On the recursive soteriology of esoteric Buddhism, see Orzech 1986, 1989. 139. LaFleur 1973: 104. qo. This is a reference to the Tendai doctrine of the three causal factors of Buddha-nature (Jp. san'in bussho, Ch. sanyin fa xing). According to Zhiyi, these are the "primary cause" (zheng ying, Jp. shoin, the principle), the "final

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cause" (liao yin, Jp. r;•oin, wisdom), and the "circumstantial cause" (yuan yin, Jp. en'in, religious practice) needed to realize one's Buddha-nature. On the basis of Zhiyi's theories, Zhanran claimed that plants are endowed with all three causal factors. qr. Somoku hosshin shugyo jobutsuki: 345b. 142. Critical edition by Okubo Ryojun, in NST 9: 187-286. The sections dealing most directly with somoku jobutsu doctrines are on pp. 215-220. 143. Ibid.: 215-217. 144. NST 9: 219. This passage cannot be found in Niigarjuna's Dazhidu lun as it is published in T 25; it appears to be based instead on T 46: 4a. 145. As in the gloss to the term by Okubo Ryojun in NST 9: 219. q6. T 74: 381a. I47· Ibid. q8. Ibid. 149. The Formless Realm (mushikikai) is one of the three worlds (sangai), together with the Realm of Desire (yokkai) and the Realm of Material Forms (shikikai). It is the realm of meditation in which there exists no articulated matter. The Heaven of No-thought (musoten) is the thirteenth of eighteen heavens of the Realm of Material Forms, situated above the Realm of Desire and below the Formless Realm. In this heaven, mind exists only at birth and at death; during one's lifetime, beings living there are like plants. Since certain Indian non-Buddhist schools believed that such a condition was enlightenment, this heaven is considered the paradise of non-Buddhists (gedo). 150. See pp. 30-31. 151. See, for example, the following passage: "The expression 'only between one buddha and another' refers to the perfectly enlightened ascetics" (Kanko ruiju: 216). 152. Ibid.: 220. 153. Critical edition by Tamura Yoshiro in NST 9: 151-185; the section on plants becoming buddhas, from which all subsequent translated passages are taken, is on pp. r66-r67. On this text, see also Stone 1999: 199-209. 154. For a study of this text, see Hanano 1975-1977; for a discussion of doctrines related to the soteriological status of the nonsentients in three apocryphal texts attributed to Genshin, including the Makura no soshi, see Fukuhara 1978. 155. NST 9: r66. 156. Ibid. 157. Ibid. Goun are the five psychophysical aggregates (skandha) constituting reality: material forms (shiki), perception (ju), ideation (so), volition and activity (gyo ), and mind (shiki). 158. The text has here "True Dharma" (shobo), but it is probably a mistake for a homophone signifying "karmic body." 159. Tamura 1991: 443-455. 160. See Kamata 1971: 538.

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16r. Tamura 1973: 546-548; 1991: 325-345, 407-441, 457-467. On Japanese developments of doctrines on plants becoming buddhas, especially from a Tendai-Nichiren perspective, see also Sakamoto 1980: 397-412, 413-418 (English translation on pp. xvii-xxiii). 162. Yuishinsho mon'i, T 83: 708a; see also Miyamoto 1961: 689-690. 163. Faure 1996: 194; see Dogen, Shobogenzo 2: 61-71; 1: 331-341. 164. Faure 1996: 194. 165. Nichiren Shonin ibun 1: 532-534. 166. Ibid.: 532. 167. Ibid.: 533· 168. Ibid. 169. Ippen shonin goroku, p. 126; see Hirota 1997: 78. 170. Hayami 1986; 1991. 171. Sueki 1991: 46. 172. See Sharf 2001; Rambelli 2002d. 173. Sanjushika no kotogaki, NST 9: 157. 174. Ibid.: 174. 175. Tamura 1991: 159-161. For a discussion of various meanings of the concept of "absolute" in Buddhist thought, see also ibid.: 27-68. 176. See Morrell 1987: 89-ro2. 177. Ichijosho, quoted in Tamura 1991: 176. 178. On this subject, see Tamura 1991: 159-184. Critics such as Shoshin (active n6o-1207) attacked these ideas arguing that a cognitive transformation is not enough and that salvation needs to be a total transformation based on ascetic and devotional practices as well as on the respect of the precepts. See Sakamoto 1980: 413-418; Miyamoto 1961: 681-683; Tamura 1991: 393-398; Taimon Kenkyukai, eds., 2002. 179. LaFleur 1973: 112. 180. This was a Japanese Buddhist lineage centered in the Hisoji temple in Yoshino. Founded around the beginning of the eighth century, probably by Chinese expatriates, it focused on mountain asceticism as a way to attain enlightenment, which the school defined as the "unconditioned wisdom" (jinenchi). During the Nara period, this school became a center of esoteric (mikkyo) practice. 18r. I should also mention that the poets cited by LaFleur did not celebrate nature's beauty in itself or its salvific power; on the contrary, the landscapes they described belong to the sacred places of Japanese religious tradition (Yoshino, Kumano, etc.), and in any case, poetic descriptions were often not the result of direct observation but of re-elaboration of previous poetic Images. 182. On the somoku jobutsu theme in No plays, see Shively 1957. 183. LaFleur 1973: n8. 184. LaFleur 1974: 227. 185. See Rambelli 1991.

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186. On the relationships between center and marginality in premodern Buddhist institutions, see, for example, Sato 1986: 34-46; Sasaki 1988. 187. Hagiyama 1995; see also Shinkawa 1982: 25 and 55, n. 15, for a complete list. 188. YT 4: 2535. 189. On the poet Saigyo, see LaFleur 1973-1974. 190. YT 2: II67-II80. 19!. YT 3= 2101-2!18. 192. Ibid.: 1839-1855· 193. On the role of Buddhism in No, with special attention to the issue of the status of plants and nonsentients, see in particular Hanabusa 1987; Anesaki 1942; Ito 1981; Hagiyama 1995; in English, see Shively 1957. 194. I presented one of these earlier. Another version runs as follows: "When a Buddha attains enlightenment and looks at the Dharmadhatu, [he sees that] plants and the territory all become buddhas, sentient and nonsentients alike attain salvation." This sentence appears in the No play Nue, attributed to Zeami (1364?-1443); YT 4: 2389. The nue is a mysterious animal said to appear at night. 195. T 9: 19-20. 196. Hirota 1987: 389. 197. See Chapter 4, p. 16r. 198. See, for example, Shinkawa 1982: 24, who quotes Anesaki 1942. 199. Hagiyama 1995 has suggested that, with the formation of Buddhist education centers (dangisho) in the provinces toward the end of the Kamakura period and especially during the Muromachi period, learned monks from the capital area moved to the provinces to teach there; it is possible that some of the doctrines discussed at these centers were also included in No plays. Among the texts documenting the contents of the lectures at these dangisho, Hagiyama mentions the Hokkekyo jurin shityosho by Sonshun (qsr-1514) and the Hokkekyo jikidansho by Eishin (1470?-1546); both contain references to somoku jobutsu doctrines. However, as I have indicated, there seems to be little doctrinal contact between the content of dangisho lectures and that of more popular Buddhist narrative texts. 200. On tree cutters' rituals in Akita Prefecture, see Shidei 198 5: 134; on analogous rituals in the Suwa area in central Japan, see Miyachi 1985: 212-213. 2or. An example of a carpenter's prayer (norito) is given by Nishioka Tsunekazu. The carpenter prays that the spirit of the tree will be reborn in the new building for which the tree will be used. Nishioka insists, in fact, that a tree lives twice: the first time in the natural state as a tree and the second time in the structure the tree has been used to build. See Nishioka and Kohara 1978: 53· 202. On rituals related to the production of a buddha image, see Chapter 2. 203. Le Goff 1988. 204. See, among others, Sueki 1995a: 374·

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Chapter

2

2

r. See Butsugu jiten. Another, more specialized encyclopedia lists many more items; see Butsugu daijiten. On Buddhist ritual objects, see also Morse and Morse, eds., 1995; Morse 2003. 2. TZ IO: 1269-1380. 3· Ibid.: I22I-I239· 4· Ibid., plate on a separate page between pp. 1268-1269. 5· Ibid.: !241-1258. 6. Ibid.: 1259-1268. 7· Baudrillard 1996: 27-28. 8. Ibid.: 28. 9· Ibid.: 79, n. 8. ro. Such fragmentation and dispersion of the Buddha in Buddhist liturgical objects are paralleled by the fragmentation and dispersion of Buddhist doctrines, which require a particular hermeneutical approach to be reconstructed; on this subject, see Chapter 3. rr. Baudrillard 1996: 76. 12. Ibid.: 75· I3. Ibid.: 96. 14. See De Martino 2oor: 96-rr6; 2002: 66o-664 and passim; I995· For a recent re-evaluation of de Martino's work, see Saunders 1993. On the metahistorical role of Buddhist objects, see also Chapter 7· r 5. Godelier 1999: r69. 16. Ibid. 17. Csikszentmihalyi 1993: 28; also 23. 18. Quoted in Reader and Tanabe 1998: 119; I changed the translation slightly. r 9 . Ikci r 9 8 5: 22 5 -22~ 20. Reader and Tanabe 1998: 229-231. 21. An additional category includes objects rendered sacred by contact with a holy being, such as the footsteps of the Buddha and places traditionally associated with his life. 22. For different examples of these interpretations, see Reader and Tanabe 1998: 12, 82-100. 23. On the limitations of this received interpretation, see Rambelli 1996a. 24. T n: 507-514. See also Fa miejin jing, T 12: 1119a. 25. See in particular Faure 1991: 143-147. On Buddhist aniconism in general, see the overview in Swearer 2004: 24-30. 26. Shimizu 1999: 7· 27. Ibid. 28. Ibid.: 8. 29. Ibid.: q. 30. Seidel 2003b.

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31. On Dharma transmission in Soto Zen kirigami, see Faure 1995; 1996: 47-70 (esp. 57-62). 32. Faure 1996: 69. 33· See also Kuroda 1980: 119-121. 34· Stone 1999: 144-145. 35. Preliminary elements can be found in Bataille 1989, 1991; Gernet 199 s; and Grapard 2ooo; see also Chapter 7· 36. See accounts of the arrival of Buddhism to Japan in Gangoji garan engi narabini ruki shizaicho: 7-9; Nihon shoki 2: 100-104. 37· A summary of all these catalogs is Sho ajari shingon mikkyo burui soroku edited by Annen; the objects imported consist mostly of images (painted and sculpted) and ritual implements (DNBZ 2: 150-153). See also lists of objects in Shosha shorai homonto mokuroku by Shiiei (DNBZ 2: 105-106) and Chisho Daishi shorai mokuroku by Enchin. 38. On this ritual, see Rambelli 2002-2003. 39· Dengyo Daishi shorai mokuroku; Dengyo Daishi shorai Esshii roku; objects are described in more detail in Hieizan Saicho osho homon doguto mokuroku, DNBZ 2: 14-15. 40. DNBZ 2: 16. 41. ]Ogyo kajo shorai mokuroku, DNBZ 2: 35-40. 42. Reiganji osho shorai homon doguto mokuroku, DNBZ 2: 41-45. 43. For catalogs by Ennin, see Nipponkoku ]owa gonen nitto guho mokuroku; ]ikaku Daishi zaito soshinroku; and Nitto shingu shogyo mokuroku. 44· Kiikai, Shorai mokuroku, 2p-b; see Hakeda 1972: 145-146. I made some changes to Hakeda's translation. 45· Gramsci 1968: 6r. 46. Freedberg 1989: 436, 439· 47· Faure 1998: 787. 48. Sharf 1999: 78 (italics in the original). Sharf adds as an explanation: "We do not typically think of President Clinton as representing the Presidenthe simply is the President." 49· Ibid.: 8r. so. Davis 1997: 27. 51. Shoji jissogi, T 77: 404a-b; see Hakeda 1972: 245-246. 52. This liminality is even more prominent in the case of sacred icons known as hibutsu. Being hidden most of the time, a hibutsu cannot serve effectively as an index, except to point to a numinous and invisible presence; invisibility becomes a way to transcend its differentiated, corporeal, and conditioned aspect; see Rambelli 2002b. 53· On emoku honen, a concept usually employed by the Shingi Shingon tradition, see MDJ: 154c; the Kogi Shingon branch employs instead the term saie gyozo; see MDJ: 745b. 54· I am summarizing here the arguments proposed in Kohitsu shiishiisho: 361, and Senpo intonsho: 244.

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55. Kohitsu shushusho, 36r. 56. Daisho hyakujo daisanju, T 79: 652c. The expression "nine lower worlds" here refers to the nine levels of existence below that of the buddhas (bodhisattvas, pratyeka-buddhas, sriivaka, deities, humans, asuras, animals, hungry ghosts, and denizens of hell). 57· Kohitsu shushusho, 345· 58. For the entire argument, see Daisho hyakujo daisanju, 652a-653a. 59· Kohitsu shushusho, 345· 6o. Shingon honmoshu, ZSZ 2r: 773-775. 6r. Sokushin jobutsugi, ihon 5, T 77: 397a. 62. On these semiotic categories, see Eco r976: 2r7-26r. 63. Kohitsu shushusho, 36r-362; Senpo intonsho, 244-247. 64. Kohitsu shushusho, 36r-362. 65. Ibid.: 246. 66. Senpo intonsho, 246. 67. Shugi ketchakushu, r9-20. 68. Goho shisho, SZ 20: ro2-r05. On the four esoteric levels of meaning, see Rambelli 20o6b. 69. Shorai mokuroku, 25a; Hakeda r972: I45· 70. From this reference to Sakyamuni's image at Seiryoji, we understand that Goho's argument is an exegesis of the story of the first buddha image made by King Udayana discussed later. ?I. Goho shisho, I04-I05. 72. For an analysis of the concept of kan, see Sharf 2oor. 73· Shiojiri, a monumental collection of miscellaneous writings composed in the mid-Edo period by the Kokugakusha Amano Sadakage (r66r-r733), states that Buddhist statues represent formless virtues; worship of a Buddhist icon is thus an expression of gratitude toward the holy being it represents. See Shiojiri r5: 92. 74· Shinzoku butsuji hen, I59· 75· See Kantei gose monogatari, attributed to Ryukan but probably written by one of his disciples, in Zoku Jodoshu zensho 9: 52-53. 76. Auge r988: 33· 77· It should be noted that in Hindu mythology Vi~vakarman is in fact the architect of the entire universe. 78. Seiryoji engi; Seiryoji engi emaki. 79· Zengyi Ahan jing, T 2: 706-7o8; Da fangbian fo baoen jing, T 3: r36b-c; Guanfo sanmei hai jing, T r5: 678b; Dasheng zaoxiang gongde jing, T r6: 79ra-b. For other details on this legend, see Coomaraswamy r972 [r927]; Carter r990; Shad r996; Swearer 2004. 8o. On the benefits resulting from worship of buddha images, see, for example, Zuo fa xingxiang jing (Sharf r996); Zaoli xingxiang fubao jing; Dasheng zaoxiang gongde jing. 8r. For an overview of some famous cases, see Tanaka 2000.

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82. On the communicative function of buddha images, see Sasamoto 1996: 66-70. 83. On this subject, see also Grapard 1992: 152-155. On sacred trees, see Chapter 4· 84. Quoted in Hiruma 1980: 63-64. Hiraga Gennai expressed his criticism of the contemporaneous practices surrounding hibutsu, especially public displays (kaicho ), because of the superstitions they involved, according to which money offerings can buy rebirth in paradise ("for just 100 or 200 mon one can buy a ticket for the Pure Land"); Hiraga Gennai, Bodaiju no ben, quoted in Hiruma 1980: 65-69. 85. As Faure writes, "The notion of animated Buddhist icons has been repressed as a result of the modern and Western values of aestheticization, desacralization, and secularization"; Faure 1998: 769. However, this notion has been reevaluated by a number of studies; see, for instance, Faure 1991: 148-178; 1996: 237-263; Strickmann 1996: 165-211; Sharf and Sharf, eds., 2001; Swearer 2004. 86. Nishimura 1990: 30. On ceremonies performed before cutting sacred trees, see Chapter 5· 87. Nishimura 1990: 27. The nomi-ire shiki is a variant of the chona hajime ritual performed by carpenters upon beginning new construction work; see Chapter 5. 88. One of the secret seals (combinations of mantras and mudras) performed on such occasions by Shingon monks was the "Seal of Nonsentients and Plants Becoming Buddhas" (hijo somoku jobutsu no in). The formula is varrz hurrz tral; hrlf; a a arrz al; iirrzf;. See Gashusho by Shinkaku (III7-II8o), with additions by cloistered Prince Shukaku (II50-I20I), SZ 36: 319. On the use of this formula, see also Shoshin (1287-1357), Yugikyo hiyoketsu (1357), SZ 5: 185. It is possible that this formula has some relation with the memorial monuments for cut trees found in northeastern Japan mentioned in Kimura 1988: 386. 89. For Shukaku's description of these rituals, see the sections "Misogi kaji saho" in Hisho sahoshu, 128-129; see also "Misogi kaji" in Sahoshu (edited by Seigen with additions by Kenjin), 455· There appears to have existed other forms of the eye-opening ceremony. Nichiren, for example, thought that buddha images were inferior to a living Buddha because they lacked his voice-the expression of his teachings as actualizations of the Buddha-mind. However, these images could be infused with the Buddha-mind by placing before them a scripture; see Mokue nizo kaigen no koto. Nichiren explicitly defined the infusion of images with a soul (tamashii or konpaku) through the Lotus Sutra as "plants become buddhas" (somoku jobutsu)-in which "plants" refers to the raw material used to produce the icons; see Shijo Kingo Shakabutsu kuyo no koto, in Nichiren Shonin ibun 2: u83. On Nichiren's view of nonsentients, see Chapter 1; on Nichiren and icon worship, see Dolce 2002: 143-145. 90. Yiqie rulai anxiang sanmei yigui jing, T 21: 933c16, 934a21; see also Strickmann 1996: 198-202.

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and 3

91. Nishimura 1990: 87. 92. See Chapter 4, p. 144· 93· There are several different such ceremonies (see, e.g., http://www.avis

.ne.jp/-butsudan/koutei.html). For example, Sudo Yoshito has recently published an account of an eye-opening ceremony of a buddha image in a butsudan as performed in a Soto Zen temple in Iwate Prefecture. The patron brings the buddha image to the temple. The priest asperses it with holy water (drawn from the same source as the water used for purification in new year's ceremonies); he then draws the eyes of the statue by holding the brush in a peculiar fashionnamely, he places the brush in contact with his own forehead. This act represents life power flowing into the image from the head of the priest, perhaps an enactment of the mind-to-mind transmission emphasized by the Soto tradition, in which enlightenment is passed down from Siikyamuni to his disciples down to the Zen patriarchs and monks. This ceremony differs from eye-opening ceremonies of both other Japanese schools and other Buddhist countries, such as Thailand and Cambodia studied by Stanley Tambiah, in that what matters here is the legitimacy of the priest performing the ceremony rather than that of the buddha image in the temple. See Sudo 1997; Tambiah 1984. 94· This date was chosen based on the day in which Emperor Tenmu issued the edict ordering the construction of Buddhist chapels at all public buildings in the country. 95· On the history of ihai in Japan, see Gorai 1992: 602-623; Shibata 1977; Ishikawa 1996: 222-224. 96. On the dualism front-back in the ihai, see, for example, the Web site http://www.avis.ne.jp/-kazunori/oihai/ihai.html. 97· Bateson T972: 180; see also Sharf 1999: 89-90. 98. Faure T99L

Chapter 3 r. Scholarship has begun to challenge such received assumptions in ways that are still tentative and fragmentary but very exciting and promising. See, for example, Boyarin, ed., 1993; Gumbrecht and Pfeiffer, eds., 1994. On the other hand, the complexities of "reading" as a cultural phenomenon are the subject of Manguel 1996, which is, however, limited to a Western perspective. For a general history of the book in Japan, see Kornicki 1998; more specifically, on the book in medieval Japan, see Gomi 2003. On the complex impact of a specific scripture, the Lotus Sutra, on Japanese culture beyond its scriptural meaning (and with attention to its materiality), see Tanabe and Tanabe, eds., 1989. 2. Buddhist scriptures are commonly and familiarly called o-kyo (lit. "the sutras") in Japan; this term encompasses all texts and passages employed in funerals. Properly speaking, however, many liturgical passages are not directly taken from scriptures but are the result of centuries-long exegetical activity and ritual adaptations. For a recent overview of the standard liturgical texts of the major Buddhist denominations in Japan, see Okyo no hon.

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3· This distinction was originally proposed by Sam D. Gill for sacred texts in general; see Gill 1985: 234. For another approach to Buddhist texts from the same book, see Ray 1985. 4· Levering 1989: 6o. 5· Levering in fact bases her typology on fieldwork observations of scripture reception at a convent in Taiwan. 6. Campany 1991: 30. 7· Ibid., passim. 8. Ibid.: 34· 9· Actually, a third, intermediate category can also be envisioned, constituted by texts such as the koshiki, eulogies of Buddhist divinities and other sacred entities such as relics, which developed in Japan toward the eleventh century. These texts have a content that is generally understandable to the participants, and yet they are performed in a ritualized way that makes content difficult to grasp. I owe this suggestion to Levy McLaughlin. On koshiki, see Ford 2006. 10. A particularly confusing case is when the character for "mind" (shin) was replaced with its homophone for "body." 1r. Personal communication, August 2003. 12. For a discussion of blood writing in a different East Asian context, see Kieschnick 2ooo, 2003; see also p. 119 in this chapter. 13. Mention of secret boxes is not unusual in premodern Japan. Particularly well known is the "secret box" containing the sacred scriptures of Ishiyamadera that were transmitted from one abbot to the other; its content is now registered as a national treasure (kokuho ). The ]uho yojinshu reports a "primary box" (ichi no hako) containing the most secret teachings of the Tendai school transmitted in utmost secrecy from one abbot of Enryakuji to the other (Moriyama 1990: 538); the same text also mentions a box containing scrolls of secret texts appended to the neck of Kobo Daishi in eternal meditation in the Oku no In chapel on Mt. Koya (ibid.: 537). I owe this information on the Tendai primary box and Kobo Daishi's box of secret texts to Iyanaga Nobumi. q. Bodiford 1992: 44-48. 15. Ibid.: 49-50. 16. Ibid.: 48. 17. Ibid.: 49· On the textual history of the Shobogenzo, see Nagahisa 1973· 18. Rennyo, in Tannisho, 94· 19. The stanza recites: "The karmic hindrances of one woman are like all the afflictions of all men in three thousand worlds. Women are messengers from hell: they destroy the Buddha-seeds; outwardly they are like bodhisattvas but in their heart they are like demons." The stanza circulated as an excerpt from either the Nirvana Sutra or the Garland Sutra (but cannot be found in the extant versions of these scriptures). See Tanaka 1992: 52-57. 20. See Rambelli 2002c, 2oo6a.

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2r. On the economic aspects of the production, acquisition, and circulation of medieval texts, see Stone 1999: 144-r 48. 22. See Sato 2002; Nishiki et al., eds., 2003. 23. Hiken kaizosho, SZ 16: 56. The dream is reported in Raiyu's Sokushin jobutsugi kentokusho, SZ r3: 77· 24. Quoted in Kushida 1979: 176. 25. Raiyu, Shinzoku zakki mondosho, SZ 37: 425. 26. Rambelli 20o2d. 27. The sacred nature of these relic-texts did not prevent their commercialization, as shown in Stone 1999: 144-r 48. 28. Honda 2000: 112. 29. Quoted in Taniguchi 2002: 77· These are the central texts of the modern Pure Land School. 30. Within the Shingon tradition, in fact, such lectures/discussions were held regularly for the protecting deities of the major temples: Kiyotaki Gongen, Niu Myojin, and Sanno Gongen. 3 r. Nichiren's daimoku is perhaps a good example of this attitude of treating a scripture more as a sacred tool than as a source of hermeneutic meaning; see Dolce 2002. 32. Campany 1991: 54· 33· Schopen 1975: 180. For Hirakawa Akira's views on the origin of Mahayana, see Hirakawa 1963. 34· Schopen 1975: I7I. Schopen adds that "Canonical Pali, for example, makes no reference whatever to book worship and its reference just to books is rare": 171, n. 46. 35· For example, the Vimalaklrti nirdesa sutra (Weimojie suoshuo jing) states that one should worship the Tathagatas not through material objects (Skt. ami~a) but through the worship of the Dharma; T 14: 556c-557a. See also Lamotte 1987: 387. This topic is addressed in more detail in the Suvar!J abhasottama sutra (]inguang ming jing). Fasc. r describes the cult to be given to this scripture, fasc. 2 argues against the cult of relics, fasc. 6 is again dedicated to the cult of this scripture. It is protected by the Tathagatas and the bodhisattvas and worshiped by the gods; it has healing and salvational powers (it saves beings from hell, repels foreign armies, removes hunger, etc.); see Emmerick, trans., 1970: 23ff. 36. Occasionally, sacralizing ceremonies of this kind were also held for particularly authoritative texts other than scriptures; MBD mentions one such ritual performed for a copy of the Weishi fun (r: 577a). 37· Schopen 1975: r68, r8o. 38. Ibid.: I70. 39· Conze, trans., 1984: I05-ro8. 40. Schopen 1975: r69. 41. Ibid.: I78-I79· 42. Sutra copying is extolled already by some of the earliest scriptures translated into Chinese, such as the Daoxing banruo jing (T 8: 425) and the

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Banzhou sanmez Jzng (T q: 897), both translated by Lokaksema (active ea. 168-189). See also MBD 3: 2135b-2qoa. 43· On the Buddhist cult of the book in India, see also Kinnard 2002. 44· Lotus Sutra, T 9: 59a-b; Tuoluoni ji jing, T 18: 8o8c-8o9c. 45· Schopen 1975: 163. 46. Miaofa lianhua jing wen gou, attributed to Zhiyi, contains a description of modes of worshiping the Lotus Sutra, T 34: 107C-n2c. 47· The importance of ownership of scriptures has also been attested in early medieval (late fifth and early sixth centuries) Daoism, in particular in the case of Shangqing scriptures. According to Michel Strickmann, possession of sacred texts "guaranteed as a rule the acquisition of an honourable posthumous position in the complex hierarchy of the Unseen World, even should the possessor never practise the operations set forth in the text"; Strickmann 1977: 28; see also Strickmann 1981. 48. For examples of this mode of worship, see Hokke genki, NST 7: 74-75; Konjaku monogatarishu 3: 213-215. 49· Fa gou jing, T 4: 564b. 50. Miaofa lianhua jing xuan yi, T 33: 733· 51· Guan wuliangshoufo jing shu, T 37: 270 and passim. 52. The oldest sutra copy extant in Japan is a copy of the ]ingang chang touluoni jing, dating to the fourteenth year of the reign of the Emperor Tenmu (686). The practice of surikya was already in vogue in the Nara period. 53· For a history of sutra reading with a discussion of its various functions, see Shimizu 2001. 54· See also Campany 1991: 34-37. 55· Another interesting phenomenon that requires further study is the existence of rituals in which scriptures are the main objects of worship (honzon). The most famous is perhaps the Hokke ha (Lotus ritual), but we could also include in this category esoteric ceremonies for the protection of the state such as the Shou ha (rain ritual), the Kujaku ha (peacock ritual), and so on, in which the respective sutras are transposed into mandalas that constitute the ritual foci. On the Hokke ha, see Dolce 2002: 232-233. 56. Nihon ryaiki, NKBT 70: 112-117. 57· Ibid.: 117-II9. 58. Ibid.: 219-223. 59· Ibid.: 316-32!. 6o. Ibid.: 233-237. 6r. Ibid.: 331-335. 62. Ibid.: 342-345. 63. Spiro 1982. 64. Kakuban, Gorin kujimya himitsushaku, T 79: 17a. These verses are part of a poem entitled "Ichiji nyiizo manbyo fushO sokushin jobutsu ju." Known in many variants among all Shingon branches, it summarizes the secret practices enabling one to become a buddha in the present body; see Nasu 1970: 186-190. Kakuban included it in his major work, the Gorin kujimya

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himitsushaku, a treatise describing in detail the meditative and ritual processes through which all sentient beings can either become a buddha in the present life or be reborn in Amida's Pure Land. 65. "Endonbo Songai kishomon wo tatemosu koto," oath appended to the Kawataya boshi5 jukutsit, in Tendaishit zensho 9: n6b. For another example, see "Ekobo homon sojo keiyaku jojo" by Jisshun, from the Genshi kimyodan hirokushu, in Uesugi 1935 (Bessatsu furoku: 86o). I am grateful to Jackie Stone for these references. 66. Fading zunshengxin po diyu zhuan yezhang chu sanjie mimi sanshen foguo sanzhong xidi shen'yan yigui, T r8: 914a-b. 67. T 9: r5b-r6a. 68. Other transgressions are reciting and writing mantras without the knowledge of Sanskrit and the Siddha~p script and reading esoteric texts without the guidance of a master. On these transgressions, see jingang ding yuqie zhong lue chu niansong jing, T r8: 25oa; Dari jing, T r8: 3oa; Dari jing shu, T 39: 722b-c. 69. Quoted in Abe 1995: 126. 70. Hizo hoyaku, KDCZ r: 205. Kiikai refers to the ]ingang ding jing yizidinglunwang yuqie yiqie shichu niansong chengfo yigui, T 19: 32ra. 71. Busensho, quoted in KR, Shiikyobu r: Shiikyobu, Bukkyo 8, "Shingonshii," 570. 72. In fact, the first reference in China concerning revolving bookcases used for sacred texts dates from the ninth century, but such devices became very popular and widespread only during the twelfth century. On the history of the prayer wheel in China, see Goodrich 1942. Gregory Schopen suggests that this religious object might have originated in India toward the eleventh century. See Schopen 2005: 345-349. 73· On the use of rinzo, see also the No play Rinzo attributed to Kanze Nagatoshi (J488-154r). 74· Eigaku yoki, entry for Tencho 6 (829), in GR 24: 547-548, and Konjaku monogatarishu 3: r ro, state that the ritual copying of the Lotus Sutra was first performed in Japan by Ennin on Mt. Hiei. 75. Kyonagashi was performed in rivers or the sea for the memorialization of people who died violent deaths, such as in battle, accidents, disasters, and suicides. 76. MBD r: 596b. 77· Ibid., 3: 3005-3oo6b. 78. Grapard 1989. 79· On sutra art, see Kurata and Tamura, eds., 1987; Tanabe 1988; Yiengpruksawan 1999. For a general introduction to surra copying, see Yoritomi and Akao 1994; for a more specialized study, focusing in particular on the Heian period social background of this practice, see Komatsu 1995 [1976]. 8o. For a fascinating study of the activities of the sutra copy bureau and the lifestyle and work conditions of its employees, see Sakaehara 1987.

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Sr. Nitto guho junrei gyoki, DNBZ 113: 239b; Reischauer, trans., 1955: 254· S2. Mizuno 19S2: 171. S3. Toboki, ZZGR 12. For an introduction to the Toji documents, see, for example, the catalogs Toji (Kyoo gokokuji) Homotsukan, eds., 1996, 1997. S4. T 51: 49a. Ss. For example, ]ingang banruo bolomituo jing, Sanjie sanqian foming jing, Jinguang zuisheng wangjing; illustrations in Okyo no hon, pp. 7S, S7, 94, respectively. S6. On the transposition of scriptures into stupas, see also Toji (Ky66 gokokuji) Homotsukan, eds., 1996: 6o; Yiengpruksawan 1999. S7. These hanging scrolls are common in Pure Land (Jodoshii) temples and households. SS. Schopen 1975. S9. Eckel 1992: 9S, n. 6. 90. Nichiren in particular emphasized this aspect of the Lotus Sutra, but he was developing consolidated normative teachings about the nature of the Buddhist scriptures. See Dolce 2002. 91. Kyokatabira is the name of a white dress for the dead on which names of the Buddha, dharmfi, and passages from the scriptures were inscribed. 92. Sutra stones are pebbles on which single characters from the scriptures, mainly the Lotus Sutra, were inscribed; these stones were placed in holes dug in the ground similar to the mounds in which sutras were buried (kyozuka). 93· See Mus 1990. 94· DNBZ 24: 327-32S. 95· Gyonen, Sangoku buppo denzu engi, DNBZ 101: 129a-b. Other versions of the story also appear in Shingonden, DNBZ 6S: 5; Genko shakusho (1322), DNBZ 101: 145; and Honcho kosoden, DNBZ 102: So. 96. Gyatso 19S6. 97· Grapard 19S9. 9S. Stories of this kind can be found in collections of Buddhist stories such as Nihon ryoiki, Hokke genki, and Konjaku monogatarishu. 99· Quoted in Eckel 1992: 102. roo. On the Indian developments of the concepts of Dharma-body and Dharma Element and their relation with Buddhist scriptures, see ibid.: 97-107. 101. An additional proof of the continuity between Buddhist scriptures and sacred images is provided by exegesis of Nichiren's daimoku, according to which the honzon can take either a human form, thus representing the Buddha (nin honzon or butsu honzon), or a Dharma form (ha honzon) represented by the daimoku itself; see Dolce 2002: 145-146. 102. See G6mez 1995; Tamaki 19S3: 170-172. See also Huayan tanxuan ji by Fazang, T 35: 122a-b. 103. Gyonen, Hasshu koyo, DNBZ 3: 34a.

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104. Kiikai, Dainichikyo kaidai ("Hokkai joshin"), TKDZ 4: 4· ros. On the esoteric transmission inside the Iron Stupa, see Orzech 1995. ro6. The same model was applied by Kukai to other scriptures as well in his Kyookyo kaidai and Rishukyo kaidai, both in TKDZ 4· 107. Abe 1999: 276. ro8. See Darijing shu, T 39: 579c; Tuoluonimen zhubu yaomu, T 18: 899a; and the various Danichikyo kaidai by Kukai, KDZ 1, 634, 6sr, 688, respectively. 109. Kukai, Bunkyo hifuron, KDZ 3: r. no. Dari jing, T 18: 10a. r 11. On the epistemic status of esoteric Buddhism as envisioned by the Shingon tradition, see Rambelli 1994, 2oo6b. rr2. Abe 1999: 276. n3. Kyookyo kaidai, TKDZ 4: 104. rq. Seireishu, TKDZ 8: 10. ns. See Rambelli 1991. n6. See Tambiah 1970: 197-198; Tambiah 1985: 22-28. 117. Kieschnick 2000: 178-r8r. n8. Da fangguang fo huayan jing, T 10: 845c; Fan wang jing, T 24: 1009a. II9. Quoted in Kieschnick 2000: r88. 120. Both citations are ibid. r21. Hogen monogatari, NKBT 31: 18r. 122. According to the prophecies on the end ofDharma, the Naga King will collect all the scriptures on earth and bring them to his palace on the bottom of the ocean. See Mohe Moye jing, T 12: 1005; see also ror3c-ror4a. 123. Quoted in Taniguchi 2002: rr. 124. See Rambelli 1994: 393-397; 2oo6b. 125. On mantric expressions as inscriptions of soteriology, see Lopez 1990; for an analysis of similar strategies in the Shingon tradition, see Rambelli 1991. 126. Grapard 1987, 1992. 127. See also Rambelli 1994. On the plural nature of Tantric symbols and entities in general, see Boon 1990: 79-83. 128. Cardona 1987: 18r. 129. Ibid.: 176-r 78. On talismans and amulets, although in a different cultural context, see also Tambiah 1984. 130. Eco 1976: 224-225. I3I. Ibid.: 226. 132. See Klein 2002. 133. Sharf 1999: 78. I34· Ibid. 135. Ibid.: 8r. 136. Davis 1997: 27.

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137. Shorai mokuroku, DNBZ 2: wa-b; see Hakeda 1972: 145-146. I made some changes to Hakeda's translation. 138. Quoted in Gumbrecht 1994: 396. 139. Ibid.: 396-397. 140. Eco 1976, 1984. 141. Gumbrecht 1994: 398 (italics in the original). 142. Ibid. 143· Ibid.: 4n, n. 15. 144· Bloch 1983: 12. 145· Ibid.: 12-13. 146. Genette 1982: 7· 147· Ibid.: 8. 148. Ibid.: 9· 149· Ibid.: 10. 150. Ibid.: II-12. 15J. Ibid.: 7· 152. M. Borch-Jacobsen, quoted in Pfeiffer 1994: 6. 153. Pfeiffer 1994: 6. 154. See, for instance, Le Goff 1985, Chapter 2, on the book as an instrument.

Chapter 4 I. See, for instance, the illuminating discussion in Bloch 2005: 21-38. 2. See, in particular, Umehara 1989a, 1989b; Sakamoto 1980; Tamura 1991. 3· Shaner 1989: 163. 4· Schmithausen 1991b: 3· 5· Jury M. Lotman, quoted in Dorfles 1977: 40-41. 6. According to certain authors, such a relationship goes back to the cults of the earliest inhabitants of the Japanese archipelago, the so-called Jomon people (jomonjin), who are treated as Ur-Japanese. 7· Rambelli 1999. 8. For a critique of Nihonjinron, see Dale 1986; Miller 1982; see also Ram belli 1999. For a sympathetic summary of Nihonjinron ideas, see Maraini 1975· 9· Kitagawa 1987= 70. 10. Ibid.: 7I. 11. See Yanabu 1977, 1982. However, Sagara Toru has pointed out that already in the early sixteenth century the term shizen was used as a synonym for "living beings" and that a Dutch-Japanese dictionary published at the end of the eighteenth century translated shizen as the term "nature"; Sagara 1979. On the Japanese concept of nature, see, among others, Kalland and Asquith 1997; Berque 1986: 169-213; Yanabu 1977; Kaneko, ed., 1979; Maruyama 1974; Sagara et al., eds., 1983.

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12. For a discussion of the Buddhist meanings of the term jinen and its relations with shizen, see Sueki 1995b: 99-174. 13. Tallenbach and Kimura 1989. 14· Soden homon kenmon, NST 9: 303-304. This is an expression referring to the fact that nonsentients preach the Dharma (mujo seppo ). 15. Misaki 1999: 63-71 and passim. r6. Dari jing shu, T 39: 628b, 73oab, 775c, and passim. Early Chinese Buddhist authors had already made a connection between such wisdom and original enlightenment; see, for instance, Jizang, Fahua yishu, T 34: 496a; Zhiyi, Luming (amen, T 46: 552b; see also Misaki 1999: 384. 17. ]inen jodo shiki, in Gunmaken shi, shiryohen 5. This text was copied in 1439 by a priest named Ryoson from a copy made in 1363 of a document produced within a line of transmission ultimately dating back (supposedly) to TI3 r. For a detailed discussion, see Misaki 1999: 363-379. On the connections of this ritual with Yugi kanjo and jushiki kanjo, see Misaki 1999: 279, 364. 18. ]inen jodo shiki: 665. 19. Ryobu honzei rishu makaen, KDZ 5: 235; on this text, see Kadoya 1992. 20. Reikiki, ST Ronsetsu hen 1: 63. 2r. Ibid.: 54· 22. Ryogu gyomon jinshaku, KDZ 5: 147· The character men ("face") in the printed version of the text is probably a copyist's mistake for ryo ("two"). 23. Yamato Katsuragi Hozanki, NST 19: 64. 24. Miwa daimyojin engi, ZGR 2 ge: 537b, 538a, 54ob. On the status of nonsentients in Miwaryu Shinto, see Shinkawa 1983. 25. Monguryaku daiko shikenmon, DNBZ 18: r88a-190a. 26. Yuiitsu shinto myobo yoshu, NST 19: 221. A slightly different translation of this passage appears in Grapard, trans., 1992: 144; on Yoshida Kanetomo's idea of Shinto, see also Scheid 2oor. 27. Shinto denju, NST 39: 44· 28. See, for example, Yofuku ki, written by Watarai Nobuyoshi (16151690) in 1671, in NST 39: 92, 94· 29. On the application of Neo-Confucian ideas to specific kami from the Japanese mythology, see Yamazaki Ansai (1618-1682) (the founder of Suika shinto), Suika shago, NST 39: 123-124. 30. Seikyo yoroku, NST p: 345· On Soko's ideas of jinen, see Sagara 1979· 31. Gomojigi, NST 33: 124. 32. Kokuiko, NST 39: 374· 33· Ashiwakeobune, in Motoori Norinaga zenshu 2: 33· On Norinaga's "nature Shinto," see Sagara 1978: 16-18, rr7-120, and passim. 34· It is possible that modern ideas about Japanese "love for nature" are also indebted to some degree to another thread of Tokugawa Confucian discourse on the natural world-namely, the one developed, among others, by Kaibara Ekken (r630-I714). Kaibara stressed the fact that heaven and earth

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(the natural environment) are, literally, "parents" of human beings and must therefore be treated with reverence, gratitude, and filial respect; see, in particular, Yamato zokkun; see also Tucker 1989: esp. 53-60, 87-89, 99· I owe this suggestion to James Foard. 35· Miyake and Haga 1977: 174-188. 36. Berque 1986: 105-107. 37· Ibid.: 114. On the cultural associations of the myth of the primordial forest in Europe, see Schama 1995; Hayman 2003; see also Pakenham 2002. For a detailed overview of the impact of myths concerning trees in European religion and folklore, see Brosse 1989. On the coniferous forest in Japan, see Ueyama, ed., 1969; Ueyama et al., 1976. 38. Berque 1986: 114. 39· lenaga 1969. 40. Greimas and Courtes, eds., 1986: 232. 4L Ibid.: 218. 42. Ibid.: 219. 43· Yamada 1986. 44· For instance, such a tree located in the compound of the Ryiiketsu Jinja near Muroji temple in Nara Prefecture bears the inscription "two but not-two" (nini soku funi). 45· LaFleur 1973: 111. 46. On honji suijaku, see, for example, Murayama 1974; Grapard 1992; Teeuwen and Rambelli, eds., 2003. 47· Modern authors maintain an ambiguous position on whether kami were believed to be present in all trees in Japan or only in some trees. For an example of this attitude, see Shidei 198 5: 134. In any case, forms of cult of trees (dendrolatry) are present in many cultures; for a few examples outside Japan, see Henrichs 1979 (on ancient Greece and India) and Buttitta 2002 (on contemporary Sicily); a more general treatment of the mythology of trees in European and Mediterranean history can be found in Brosse 1989. 48. In this respect, it is perhaps significant that "echo" is called in Japanese kodama, written with characters meaning the "spirit of trees." 49· Quoted in Matsuoka 1994: 84. so. Kageyama 1978: 17, 22. 5 r. Ibid.: 2r. 52· See Sato 2003. 53. This interpretation would result in a conceptual shift from animism to fetishism as the general framework for the understanding of this kind of phenomena. In fact, Ishizuka Masahide (1993) has already pointed to the presence in Japan of forms of fetishism in the cults of both buddhas and kami. 54· On Enkii's life and production, see Gorai 1997: 21-164; vanAlphen, ed., 1999 (the description of Enkii's works, pp. 100-192, is by Robert Duquenne). 55· Inoue 1994: 186. For a list of the most significant tachikibutsu, see Inoue 1994: 193-206. 56. See Rambelli 2oo2b.

300

Notes to Chapter 4 57· Inoue 1994: 2 T r-223. 58. Oka r966. 59· Among the oldest cases are those of the Tado deity from Ise Province

and Hikogami of Wakasa Province, for both of whom buddha images were made. On the deity of Tado, see Ise no kuni Tado jingitji garan engi narabini shizaicho, ZGR 27 ge; on Hikogami, see Ruiju kokushi, in Shintei zoho Kokushi taikei 6: 26o; on the process of giving Buddhist shapes to kami, see also Teeuwen and Rambelli, eds., 2003: 9-21. 6o. Oka 1966: 30. 6r. Inoue 1994: 225. Samuel Morse has further shown that Buddhist images carved during the early Heian period in ways that left visible parts of their original wood-or as he puts it, "directly revealing to those who worshiped before them the physical presence of the great trees from which they were fashioned"-might be related to the penetration of Buddhism in the provinces and, therefore, with Buddhist interaction with local cults centering on trees; many of these "incomplete" images were icons of the Buddha Yakushi; see Morse 2003. 62. See, for example, Nihonshoki, entry for Suiko 26 (618): "it is a kamutoki tree; it should not be cut"; Nihon shoki 2: 202. Kamutoki indicates perhaps a tree that had been struck by lightning. 63. Quoted in Kageyama 1978: 45· 64. For example, Watarai Tsuneyoshi (1263-1339) wrote in the Daijingu ryogit no onkoto: "Mahavairocana has a soul (tamashii) ... This kami [of Ise] is Mahavairocana's spirit (rei)" (ST Ronsetsu hen Ise shinto jo: 618). 6 5. The use of intertwining trees for divination purposes was of Chinese origin. For an example of its political usage, see Forte 1976: 237, n. 276, 277. 66. See Sasamoto 1996: 85-89, I42-147. 67. Murayama 1990: 196. 68. Quoted ibid.: 189. 69. Nihon shoki I: II2; see also Kojiki, NKBT I: sr-53· 70. On Kasuga's sacred tree, see Seta Katsuya, ed., 1995: 18-22; Grapard 1992; Keirstead 1992. 71. Murayama 1990: 190-191. 72. Their three shrines are still present today in Wakayama city. 73· Other regions of Japan were also called the "land of trees." Such is the case of the "land of the divine tree" (mike no kuni) in Tsukushi (present-day Kyushu), given this name by Emperor Keiko because of a giant tree located there; Nihon shoki 1: 295-296. 74· Murayama suggests it could be the nagi, a type of evergreen tree sacred in the area. Murayama 1990: 191-192. 75· Hitachi no kuni fudoki: 19. It is interesting to note here that a Daoist text dating to the fourth century, the Baopuzi, reports a similar phenomenon but specifies that the voice came from a "tree spirit" (shujing, the equivalent of the Japanese ki nosei) named Yun'yang;Baopozi (Naihen: 358). See also Senda 1994: 37-38. Since the earliest Japanese sources do not make a distinction between a

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tree and the spirit that inhabits it, a distinction we find in later texts such as the No plays discussed in Chapter 1, it is possible that the latter were influenced more by continental thought than by ancient Japanese beliefs. 76. See Yamaguchi 1999. 77· Konjaku monogatarishu s: 306-307. Similar stories appear in a surviving fragment from Chikugo no kuni fudoki: 340-341 and in Kojiki: 2S3. 7S. On this subject, see Kawamura 19S7: 134-1ss, esp. 141-qS. 79· Buddhist literature also contains ambiguous cases. For example, the Tsurezuregusa, written between 1310 and 1331 by Urabe Kenko (ea. 12S3after 13so), reports that Shosha Shonin (aka Shokii) (d. 1007) had the miraculous power to hear the laments of beans being boiled; Tsurezuregusa, NKBT 30: q6-q7; Keene, trans., 1967: 62. This story probably emphasizes Shosha Shonin's spiritual power and Buddhist compassion toward all things but does not indicate any remedy to stop the beans' suffering. So. Hayashiya 1994: 26-27. Sr. See Encyclopedia of Shinto 2: 29 ("Shin-boku, shin-ju"). S2. Hayashiya 1994: 26-27. S3. This is the origin of two Buddhist images later placed in the Yoshinodera as told in the Nihon shoki in an entry for the year SS3= Nihon shoki 2: 103-104. A variant of this tale appears in the Nihon ryoiki, NKBT 70: S1-SS. S4. See Grapard 1992: 1S2-1SS· Ss. See, for example, Nihon ryoiki, NKBT 70: 241-24s, 2ss-2s7, 363-36s. S6. Genko shakusho, DNBZ 10r: 303-304. S7. See the fragment from Yamashiro no kuni fudoki: 271-272. ss. Koryuji raiyuki, DNBZ n9: So. S9. Asabasho, by Shocho (12os-12S2) or his disciple Soncho (n.d.), edited between 1242 and 12S9 with later additions, in TZ 9: 7s6-7S7· In this version, the reason for the felling of the giant tree is that it caused epidemics. See also Seta Katsuya, ed., 199 s: sS. A detailed account of the legendary history of Hasedera Kannon appears in the Sanboe, written in 9S4 by Minamoto no Tamenori (d. 1on) (SNKBT 31: 1S9-191; see Kamens 19SS: 320-32s). Miraculous stories also exist concerning the ridgepole of the roof of the Sanjiisangendo temple in Kyoto. The tree used for the ridgepole was described as a manifestation of Kannon (the main deity of the temple), but before it was used as construction material, one of its roots penetrated an abandoned skull in the forest causing a terrible headache to the retired emperor. On these narratives, see Tanaka 2ooo: 64-73. 90. Nihon shoki 2: 26S; Aston, trans., 1972, 2: 271-272. 91. Nihon shoki 2: 34S-3so. 92. Daianji garan engi narabini ruki shizaicho (747), DNBZ nS: ns-n6. 93· A synonym of Nakatomi no harae or simply Oharae. This was the sacred formula read during the Oharae, an important purification ceremony that took place in the sixth and twelfth months of the year and was performed

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by members of the Nakatomi priestly house. For an English translation of the formula, see Philippi 1990: 76-77. 94· Konjaku monogatarishu 3: 100-102. For a synopsis of other ancient stories concerning zelkova trees, see Senda 1994: 39-44. 95· See also Yamaguchi 2000: 105-109. 96. Quoted in Murayama 1990: 207-208. 97· Ishiyamadera engi, in Nihon emaki taisei 18: 78. 98. Kakuzensho, TZ 4: 464b-c. 99· On the transgressive, appositional potential of narratives on sacred trees, see also Kawamura 1987: 151-152. 100. All these instances of a ritual and mythical complex concerning sacred trees might or might not be related to the Eliadian generalization of the symbolism of the "cosmic tree" (Eliade 1959); as suggested by Senda 1994, it may have originated in the Korean Peninsula. ror. At the lower shrine, these two phases take place a week later than at the upper shrine. ro2. On Suwa Shrine and the onbashira ritual, see, for example, Kawamura, ed., 1992; Yazaki 1987: r29-17r; Miyachi 1985. 103. Quoted in Miyachi 1985: 217. 104. On Meiji anti-Buddhist policies, see Ketelaar 1990. On the premodern Suwa Shrine and anti-Buddhist policies there, see Inoue 2003. 105. Miyachi 1985: 217. 106. Ibid.: 216-224. ro7. Miyasaka 1998. ro8. HI 6, 2809: 2332; see Hashimoto 1994: 70-71. w9. Hashimoto 1994: 79· no. See Seta, ed., 1995: 2-13, esp. 6. III. HI 4, 1613: 1474-1475. 112. HI 5, 1866: I67I. 113. HI 7, 2425: 2712-2713. II4. KI 4, 2128: 144· 115. Quoted in Seta, ed., 1995: 9· rr6. KI 15, rr222: 76-78. 117. For a detailed analysis of the dispute, see Minoo-shi shi r, esp. 174-195,436-437. The relevant primary documents can be found in Minoo-shi shi, Shiryo hen r (Katsuoji monjo), 1968: 54-63. rr8. Minoo-shi shi 1: 177. II9. Ibid. 120. Faure 1996: 190. I2I. KI I, 392: 327· 122. Minoo-shi shi r: 183-184. 123. Ibid.: I84-I85. 124. The logic of medieval temples in their attempts to protect forested areas was most likely very different from the one of early modern secular insti-

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tutions engaged in the same goal; for a general overview of the latter's policy, see Diamond 2005: 294-306; for details, see Totman 1989. 125. Hagiyama Jinryo describes "primitive animism" as characterized by the belief in the presence of countless spirits (kami) in mountains, rivers, and plants. The author states that such belief is still present in the attitude toward life of the Japanese, especially as "love for the land," an expression with which he seems to mean "love for the country." Again, the notion of animism is used to refer to forms of nationalism; see Hagiyama 1993. 126. Quoted in Faure 1996: 30. 127. Hitachi no kuni fudoki: 29; see also Yamaguchi 1999. 128. Nihon ryoiki: 255-257. 129. On the concept of symbolic capital, see Bourdieu 1990; on the social and intellectual role of distinction for the acquisition and maintenance of symbolic capital, see Bourdieu 1984. 130. Taira 1992: 247-249. 13 r. One of the first examples of land possessions defined as Buddha-land occurs in a document issued by the Daidenpoin on Mt. Koya in n61, in which Mt. Koya is called "the first Buddha-land of]apan": HI 7, 3153: 2531-2532. 132. One of the first kekkai in Japan was established by Kukai on Mt. Koya; see Seireishu by Kiikai, in TKDZ 8: 176-180; see also Gardiner 2000. 133. Kokawadera engi, NST 20: 54-55; Shitennoji goshuin engi, supposedly found in 1007 by Shitennoji priest Jiren, in DNBZ n8: 63. 134. See Kasamatsu 1979, 1980. 135. See Sato 1986: 41-43. 136. Rambelli 2002a. 137. Hosokawa 1991: 9-10. On Chokai's vow, see Hosokawa 1987= 196. 138. KI 14, I0557= III-II2. 139. In'yu, Kohitsu shtlstlsho, SZ 18: 362. 140. Hachiman gud6kun, otsu version, NST 20: 209. 141. See Amino 1997, 1998b. 142. Sato 1986: 54-64. 143. Rambelli 2002-2003. 144· Sato 1986: 57-58. 145· Ibid.: 58. 146. Hakamaya 1989: 9, 134-158. Sueki Fumihiko recognizes the need to investigate the relationship between hongaku thought and social discriminations, in particular against buraku people. Sueki notes, however, that some Buddhist movements influenced by hongaku thought reacted against such discriminations; Sueki 1991: 46. For a critical treatment of the "Critical Buddhism" movement, see Hubbard and Swanson, eds., 1997. In fact, hongaku ideas were also diffused among antiestablishment groups, which valued them for their antinomianism and antiauthoritarian potential. On this subject, see Rambelli 2004. 147· See Rambelli r996b; Sato 2006.

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q8. Jean-Joseph Goux has suggested that in the Western tradition idealism, as the imposition of form (order), often represented with masculine symbolism, on the raw matter of nature, was related to male-centered systems of social domination and nature exploitation and developed in fact as a kind of "paterialism." He suggests that, in contrast, materialism (including Marxism) offers at least a theoretical possibility of alternative modalities of power; Goux 1990. In this respect, it is interesting to note that in Japan, Buddhism used its own philosophical system to inform (control) matter (trees etc.) as an attempt to dominate society as well. What I defined as "Buddhist materialism" in Chapters I and 2 was part of this intellectual and ideological tendency.

Chapter 5 r. The term akibito (or akindo) was generally used to define itinerant traders as opposed to chemin, which referred to merchants living in cities, even though a more inclusive usage of the term existed; see Ishii 1998: 4-5. Beginning with the late medieval period, akibito became a discriminated group, part of the outcastes of Japanese society, known at the time by the derogatory terms hinin ("nonhumans") and eta ("heavily polluted ones"). 2. Hisano Toshihiko classifies eight different kinds of "merchants' scrolls"; see Hisano 1998: 47· Here, I mention only the most important ones. 3· Tokue 1994: 67-77. 4· Chomei was one of the four servants of Kumano Gongen to whom the text attributes the origin of the merchants. It probably refers to the head of the Chomei household in Unno, near present-day Ueda town, the center of a group of itinerant merchants active between the late medieval and the early modern periods. 5· Another text, entitled Renjaku akibito no yuraisho ("Origin of Renjaku Merchants"), is dated I444 (Bun'an I). If this date is truthful, this would be the first known text on the subject. 6. For more information on all these texts, see Ishii I998: 5-7. 7· Ibid.: 8. 8. Miwa Shrine in today's Nara Prefecture is one of the oldest cultic sites in Japan. Until the anti-Buddhist persecutions in the early Meiji period, Miwa Shrine was controlled by a Buddhist temple, the Byodoji, now almost completely destroyed, which was the center of one of the thirty-six traditional branches of the Shingon school of esoteric Buddhism. See Antoni 1995; Andreeva 2006. 9· Miwa shogan joju sho daiji, OJS 5: 44· ro. See Stone 1999: I44-I45· I r. For an overview of the image of the itinerant merchants as it appears in medieval literature and performing arts (No, Kyogen, otogizoshi, sekkyobushi, etc.), see Tokue I998. For some representations of the marketplace and merchants in Kyogen, see Hashimoto I998. For visual representations of itinerant merchants, see Fukuhara I998. I2. Hakari no honji: I8I-I97, 204-21I; see also Tokue I994·

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13. This tale appears to be a variant of the origin myth of the Kumano deity; for a standard version of the latter, see Kumano no gohonji no soshi. q. The four members of Kumano Gongen's retinue who became merchants are Lord Asama, Lord Chomei, Lord Futto, and Lord Nonokawa. They opened the first marketplace in Miwa and established their residences in Ise, Iga, Settsu, and Yamato, respectively. See Hakari no honji: 189-192, 207-208. According to Hisano Toshihiko, Asama refers to Asamagatake, a mountain immediately behind the Ise Inner Shrine; Lord Asama would thus represent merchants from Ise. Nonokawa or Nunokawa might refer to a group of renjaku merchants from the Omi region in present-day Shiga Prefecture. Futto could be a reference to Futto trading post in Hitachi Province (present-day Ibaraki Prefecture); see Hisano 1998: 49· Chomei might refer to merchants from Shinano; Ishii 1998. Interestingly, a certain Chomei is considered to be the author of the Hakari no honji. 15. Renjaku no daiji: 234. 16. Hisano Toshihiko notes that most texts of this kind trace the history of itinerant merchants back to Kumano (some to Ise); this might be a proof of the economic presence of Kumano yamabushi in large parts of Japan toward the sixteenth century; Hisano 1998: 45· 17. Shoka koki: 212-228. 18. Kojiki: ss; Nihon shoki r: 82. 19. Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 154-155. 20. This is perhaps a symbolic indication of the ambiguous nature of wealth in premodern medieval mentalities; in fact, narratives usually describe wealth as the result of divine intervention generating a surplus. 21. For the definitive studies on the complex mythical structure of Daikokuten and its connections with Ebisu, see lyanaga 1994, 2002. 22. Kogo shui, ST koten hen 5: 8. See Kato and Hoshino, trans., 1972: 17 (Futodama as the ancestor of the In be clans in Sanuki and Kii), 21 (on the construction of the sacred building and other objects in the heavenly cavern myth), 3I (on the descendants of Taokihoohi and Hikosashiri building with pure tools Jinmu's Palace). It is interesting to note that the gods Taokihooki and Hikosashiri appear only once in the Nihon shoki, where they are not carpenters but a hatter and a shield maker, respectively. I thank Massimo Ligori for clarifications on this point. Kojiki only mentions the god Futodama in connection with the opening of the heavenly cavern (51) and as the ancestor of the Inbe clan (97); Nihon shoki reports that the god eradicated soo masakaki trees and decorated them with several ceremonial objects (112). The myth of the heavenly cavern was particularly important in premodern Japan as a central theme in the developing "Shinto" discourse, in which it was employed as a metaphor for Buddha-nature and kami-nature. In one version in the Miwa texts, Taokihoohi and Hikosashiri are grandchildren of Futodama. According to another version of the myth, these two gods were instead brothers of Futodama and children of Izanami. See Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 174-175·

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23. The Miwa texts also point out that the first Buddhist temple was built subsequently to early imperial architecture; according to these sources, the first temple, the Shitenn{)ji, was built in Japan by Emperor Yomei. 24. For accounts of the mythical origin of carpenters, see Miwa shogan joju sho daiji, OJS 5: 41-42; Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 174175. The latter states that the ancestral gods of carpenters, Daijin and Kujin, are descendants of Ame no Koyane, the central deity of the festival related to the heavenly cavern mentioned earlier. 25. Jinten ainosho, DNBZ rso: 124-126. On the legends connecting carpenters and animated puppets, see Kamino 1983, 2000. 26. Both stories are reported in Kobayashi Shinnosuke shibai kuji hikae, a document written in qo8 by the puppeteer Kobayashi Shinnosuke, who performed on the Shijo street riverbank in Kyoto. This document was used in the victorious lawsuit brought about by Shinnosuke for the recognition of his rights as a professional performer. The text is quoted in Morita 1974: 389; see also Sho sensu and its commentary by Morita Yoshinori 1974: 439-440. 27. On this point, see also Kamino 1991: 131-132. 28. A centuries-old tradition of kugutsu puppeteers is still alive in Kyushu; see Izumi 1989. On Japanese puppets in general, see Law I997· 29. On Shukujin, see Meishukushu by Konparu Zenchiku; see also Klein 2oo6; Faure 2oo6: 263-264. 30. Marra 1993: 87-95; Amino 1994. 31. Quoted in Amino 1998b: r64. 32. See, for example, the document quoted in Kuroki 1967: r83. 33· Omori I99I: rs. 34· Komine 2ooo: 226. 35· Akai 2003: 72, 74· Mahesvara is variously called, in these narratives, Emperor King Zai (Kotei Zaio) of the northern Indian Kingdom of Angen, Jizaio (the Sino-Japanese rendition of Isvara, a different name of Mahesvara), and Kizai-6. 36. See, for example, Amino 1984. 37· Nakazawa 1988: 18-27, 57-66. 38. For descriptions and explanations concerning the various professional tools, see Mae 1983; on carpenters' tools from a historical perspective, see also Muramatsu 1973; for additional descriptions of traditional professions and their tools, see Yoshiba 1998. For a splendidly illustrated introduction to carpenters' tools and rituals, see Kokuritsu rekishi minzoku hakubutsukan, eds., 1996. On shakuhachi, see n. 57 following. On warriors' rituals involving a sacred view of weapons, see the documents reported in Kuroki 1967. 39· Miwa shogan joju shodaiji, OJS 5: 38; Miwa shinto genryushu son daiku kaji, OJS 5: 381. 40. Respectively, Miwa shinto genryushu son daiku kaji; ibid.: 381; and Shin to Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 171. 4 r. Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 172.

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42. Ibid.: 17!. 43· Based upon Hakari no honji: 181-184, 204-205. 44· This story is based on a famous narrative of a previous life of Sakyamuni, during which he was King Sivi. In the Indian original, the hawk is a manifestation of Indra, who wants to test the king's morality and resolve; the dove is a manifestation of Visvakarman, the Indian semigod who invented architecture and sculpture. The merchant's narrative is based on a story appearing, among others, in Ludu ji jing, T 3: 1; Ru Lengqie jing, T 16, 671, eh. 8 (English translation in Suzuki, trans., 1932: 216); Dazhi du lun, T 25: 87c-88c, 314b-315a. The same story had a wide circulation in premodern Japan; it can be found, for instance, in Sanboe, SNKBT 31: 10-14, and Homotsushu, SNKBT 40: 274. 45· Shandao is one of the Pure Land patriarchs, but his function in this narrative is not clear. 46. Based upon Hakari no honji: 184-189, 205-207. 47· Renjaku no daiji: 233. On the role of the halberd in medieval Japanese mythical discourse, see Yamamoto 1998. 48. Shoka koki: 213. 49· On the uses of mandata theories and practices concerning the sacredness of inanimate things, see Chapter 1; on mandata as a geopolitical model of Japan, see Rambelli 1996b. 50. For an outline of an influential Buddhist semiotic theory of representation of the sacred, see Chapter 2. 51. Miwaryu shinto genryushu kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, OJS 5: 352-353· 52· ShintoMiwagenryushintokuketsu, OJS 6:155. 53· Tokue 1998: 40-41. 54· Miwaryu shinto genryushu kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, OJS s: 353· 55. Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, 0 JS 6. 56. Bodiford 1992, 1992-1993. 57· On these aspects of the Fuke shakuhachi, see Takahashi 1979: 167189. On shakuhachi music, see also Nakatsuka 1979; Rambelli 1989: 27-34. On the Fuke school, see Sanford 1977. 58. See the documents in Omori 1991: 261ff. 59· Akai 2003: 72. 6o. Amino 1996. 6r. Renjaku no daiji: 233-244. 62. Ito 1998: 121-127; Renjaku no daiji: 239-243. 63. On analogous transformations in European marketplaces in the eighteenth century, see Stallybrass and White 1986. 64. Hisano 1998: 6o. 65. The Shunan'in Chapel was originally commissioned and built by carpenters.

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66. Mononobe village is known as a place where many old rituals and magical practices are still performed; see Komatsu 1994. 67. See lto et al., 2002: 121. 68. Similar documents were in fact quite widespread among several professional categories in late medieval and early modern Japan; a complete study still waits to be undertaken. 69. Miwaryu shinto buyu bu shin (dated 1773, An'ei 2), OJS 5: 48; see also the documents published in Omori 1991: 260-285. 70. Miwaryu shinto genryushu kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, in OJS 5: 352-355. 71. Miwa shinto genryushit shim in inshitsu kowarabe, ibid.: 391. 72. Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, in OJS 6: 159. 73· Miwa shinto genryushu shimin inshitsu kowarabe, OJS 5: 390. 74· Miwaryu shinto genryushu kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, ibid.: 353· 75· Ibid.: 353, 354, 355, respectively. 76. Ibid.: 354-356. 77· See Kuroki 1967; Omori 1991. For a general overview of the religious world view of martial arts lineages in Japan, see Bodiford 2oor. 78. Akai 2003: 72. The myth of the heavenly cavern, of course, concerns the goddess Amaterasu and not Izanagi and Izanami. 79· Miwaryu shinto kanjo injin, OJS 10: 479· The same text, but without the citation from the Zhongyin jing, can also be found in Ryobu shugo shintosho, OJS 10: 77· See also Shinkawa 1983. 8o. Kimura 1988: 386. 8r. On tree cutters' rituals in Akita Prefecture, see Shidei 1985: 134; on analogous rituals in the Suwa area in central Japan, see Miyaji 1985: 212213; Hashimoto 1994. An example of a carpenter's prayer (norito) is given by Nishioka Tsunekazu. In it, the carpenter prays that the spirit of the tree will be reborn in the new building for which the tree will be used. Nishioka insists, in fact, that a tree lives twice: the first time in the natural state as a tree and the second time in the structure the tree has been used to build. See Nishioka and Kohara 1978: 53· 82. Miwaryu shinto genryushu kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, OJS 5: 354· The same text can also be found in Miwa shinto genryushu, ibid.: 4oo; Miwaryit shinto shinzenbu, OJS 6: 339; and Miwaryit denju sahoshu, OJS w: 175. 83. See, for example, Shinti5 shodaiji, OJS 6: 239. 84. In that village, various professionals still perform rituals to pacify the "spirits" of inanimate things affected by their work. For instance, at the ceremony celebrating the raising of the main pillar of a building (muneage-sai), carpenters hit the pillar wood with a mallet to return the spirit of the tree to the mountain where it comes from (kodama-okuri no ho, lit., "ceremony to send back the spirit of the tree"); Ito et al., 2002: 121.

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85. These texts are variously called Shinto daiku juhachitsu daiji injingo, Shinto daiku juhachitsu daijiin, Ryobu shinto daiku shodaiji, and Sanshiki densho. Copies of these texts have been found outside Miwa, also in the Hakusan area and on Mt. Koya; Hatta 1991: 207. 86. Ibid.: 207-208. 87. Mircea Eliade has shown that building rituals, which celebrate a new life as centered in a new house, often mention a sacrificial victim buried in the foundations; see Eliade 1988: 68-81; 1990. It is interesting to note that the most important sections of Japanese building rituals consist in the pacification of the trees from which the timber for construction is taken (chona hajime) and the pacification (imprisonment? killing?) of a dragon supposedly residing below the foundation stone of the building (ryubuse). These are symbolic indicators of the construction work's intrinsically violent and disruptive action. 88. Ita 1973. On some construction rituals of a stricter Shinto observance from Ise Shrine, see Mae 1983: 177-184; see also Shimizu 1996: 134-138. 89. For illustrations, see Kokuritsu rekishi minzoku hakubutsukan, eds. 1996: 76-77. 90. Ibid.: 78. 91. On juhachido, see MDJ: 889-890; Sharf 2oor. 92. This section is based on Hatta 1991, with additions from other Miwa

ritual instructions when indicated. 93· Miwa shintogenryushuson daiku kaji, OJS 5: 38r. 94· See Hatta 1991; Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, OJS 6: 171. 9 5. The original formula is chihayaburu kami no tsutae wo tsutaekitarite moto no miyako wo tsukuri tsukuramu; Miwa shogan joju shodaiji, OJS 5: 38. 96. I translate here as "marker" a special tool made of a piece of bamboo cut as a spatula; its thinner tip is used to draw marks on timber or stone. 97· The sumitsubo is a tool employed to draw straight lines. 98. In Hindu mythology, also referred to in Buddhist texts, the world is sustained by a dragon; in Japan, a dragon was believed to live underneath the foundation stone of the central pillar of every shrine. 99· Miwa shogan joju sho daiji, OJS 5: 40. 100. Ibid.: 40-41. 101. Beating the mallet is based on another ritual in three phases, the muneage tsuchi-uchi no daiji, emphasizing eternity, pacification, and the fulfillment of all wishes. 102. Miwa shogan joju sho daiji, OJS 5: 40. 103. Miwaryu shinto buyu bu shin, OJS s: 45-51. 104. Miwa shinto genryushushimin inshitsu kowarabe, OJS 5: 389-390. 105. ShintoMiwagenryushintokuketsu, OJS 6:158-159. 106. It is not clear, however, who were the actual performers of and participants in these rituals, whether entertainers or wives (and in the latter case, aristocracy or commoners). It is also unclear whether women actually had access to these ritual instructions at all.

3ro

Notes to Chapter 5

Miwa shinto genryushu shimin inshitsu kowarabe, OJS 5: 391-392. Ibid.: 396. Ibid.: 392-395. Shinto Miwa genryu shinto kuketsu, O]S 6: r6r. According to the Miwa shinto genryushu shimin inshitsu kowarabe (O]S 5: 394), this latter rite consisted in writing a magical formula, taking pills, and chanting mantras. rrr. Miwa shintogenryushushimin inshitsu kowarabe: 390. II2. Ibid.: 392. II3. The so-called thirteen Buddhas (jusanbutsu) are the figures of a funerary cult that developed in Japan toward the Muromachi period; each is associated with a specific memorial service to be held after a person's death-that is, once a week for the first seven weeks (shichi shichinichi), on the hundredth day (hyakkanichi), and then on the first, third, seventh, thirteenth, and thirtyseventh anniversaries (isshuki, sankaiki, nanakaiki, jusankaiki, sanjusankaiki, respectively). The thirteen Buddhas (in fact, they are Buddhas, bodhisattvas, and Myoo) are, in order, Fudo, Sakyamuni, Mafijusri (Monju), Samantabhadra (Fugen), Jizo, Miroku, Yakushi, Kannon, Seishi, Amida, Ashuku, Dainichi, and Kokiizo. rq. Banmin tokuyo (printed in r66r), NKBT 83: 273, 274. 115. The kenmitsu system was, in this respect, not too different from Nativism. It also appropriated and modified non-Buddhist beliefs and practices to fit them within its own system. However, my impression is that there was a substantial difference separating kenmitsu appropriation of non-Buddhist elements and Nativist appropriation of formerly Buddhist elements-namely, the fact that the latter was much narrower, more dogmatic, and more chauvinistic than the former. This subject, however, deserves further investigation. II6. Harootunian 1988: 169. II7. Ibid.: I7I. II8. Ibid.: 172. I I9. Ibid.: I7I. r2o. Ibid.: r85. r2r. Ibid.: 212. 122. Ibid.: 214. 123. Ibid.: 215. 124. Ibid.: 2r6. 125. Ibid.: 253-272. 126. On this subject, see Sawada 1993, 2004. 127. Even temple construction was increasingly "Shinto," as clearly shown by a contemporary picture of the celebrations for the reconstruction of Nishi Honganji; see Kokuritsu rekishi minzoku hakubutsukan, eds., 1996: 72. 128. Reader 1991: 59· 129. Ibid.: 74· For a detailed case study of corporate religious practices, see Lewis 1993. 130. Reader 1991: 75· 13 r. Ishii 1994: 218. 107. ro8. ro9. IIO.

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3II

13 2. It is possible that these instances of Buddhist influence on modern workplaces are forms (more or less idiosyncratic) of borrowings from what is now a Shinto prerogative rather than examples of continuity from a premodern past; however, as we have seen thus far, Buddhism too developed in the past analogous discourses aimed at the sacralization of labor and everyday practices. 133· Reader 1991: 74· 134. See the statistical data in Ishii 1994: 246-250. 135. Ibid.: 245. I36. Ibid.: 250-254· 137. Hori 1976. 138. Hishosahoshu, section "Misogi kaji saho," 128-129; see also "Misogi kaji" in Sahoshu, 455· 139. Hisho sahoshu, 129. 140. Sahoshit, section "Obi kaji," 454-455. 14r. Sahoshit, section "Shoji no yonaki no ho," 455· I am grateful to Tanaka Yiibun for drawing my attention to these rituals and for these references. 142. See Amino 1994: 87-94. 143· Murayama 1976: 208-214. 144· Ibid.: 195-206. 145. See Hori 1976: 91-99; Nakazawa 1988. 146. This point is emphasized by countless medieval documents containing oaths and petitions known as kishomon. 147· See Sato 2003; Rambelli 2002a. 148. KI 2, 621: 45-46. 149· See Amino 1996. r 50. Gozo mandara waeshaku, Kanazawa Bunko. rp. KI 2, 575= 3-5· 152. Miwaryii shinto genryitshit kizeibu shoshoku shonin nonin bu shiso ken, OJS 5: 353· 153. Miwa shinto genryitshit shimin inshitsu kowarabe, OJS 5: 390-391. 154. Ibid.: 392. 155. Hatta 1991: 226.

Chapter 6 r. On Buddhist funerals in Japan, see Tamamuro 1963. 2. On mizuko kuyo, there is an extensive literature; see, for example, LaFleur 1989; Hardacre 1997. According to Pamela Asquith, memorialized animals include salmon, whales, birds, eels, rats, and insects; memorialized plants include flowers and vegetables; Asquith 1990: 183. Among kuyo for animals, the most ancient are probably those dedicated to whales dating back in some areas at least to the Edo period (seventeenth century); see Kalland and Moeran 1992. On the religious significance of premodern whaling, see also Nakazawa 1999. Memorial services for eels (performed by cooks and restaurant

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personnel) and monkeys and other animals killed in experiments (performed by scientists and research labs) are more recent. On kuyo for animals in general, see Asquith 1986, 1990. 3· One calendar of annual events lists almost 300 commemorative days, most of which involve objects; see 3 65 nichi gyoji matsuri jiten. See also Asquith 1990: r83; LaFleur 1989: 144-145; Reader 1991: 46; Kimura 1988: 389; Miyata 1996: 134. On kuyo for watches, see Kobayashi 1987; for scissors (at Zojoji in Tokyo), see Osaki 1997; on shoes (rite held at Tamahime Inari in Kiyokawa, Taito-ku, Tokyo), see Matsuzaki 1996b, 28-3 r; on personal name seals, see http:// www.nisshodo.net/kuyou.html and http://www.hobundo.jp/ti/kuyo.htm. Memorials for old letters are performed, among other places, at Kimiidera temple in Wakayama City (see http://www.y-morimoto.com/saigoku/saigokuo2a.html). Memorial services for eyeglasses are performed at Minami Hokkeji in Tsubosaka, near Nara, a temple whose ritual activity is centered mainly on prayers for the recovery from eye diseases; on this temple, see Trip-lett 2005. 4· Osaki 1995b: 78; Kretschmer 2ooo. 5· This is the most common date for hari kuyo; the ceremony is also performed, depending on the place, on December 8, on March 3 (day of Awashima Myojin, the patron deity of the ritual), and even on the 13th of every month (day of Bodhisattva Kokiizo, the "original form" [honjiJ of Awashima Myojin). 6. For a detailed description of the hari kuyo as it is held at Awashimado, Sensoji, Tokyo, see Kretschmer 2000. 7· Wagatsuma Hiroshi, quoted in LaFleur 1989: 144-145· 8. Kretschmer 2000: 386. 9· Asquith 1990: r85. ro. Kimura 1988: 388. 11. Asquith 1990: 184. 12. Reader 1991: 46. 13. See the temple's Web page at http://www.exe.ne.jp/-uechan/takadera/ ningyou.html. 14· See picture at http://www.gifucvb.or.jp/kankou/meisyo/dairyuji. shtml. 15. In some cases, dolls are used as substitute brides for deceased unmarried sons; such dolls can be seen at Osorezan and even at the Yiishiikan, the memorial museum of Yasukuni Shrine. I owe this information to Caroline Hirasawa. r6. On the memorial services for dolls at Kan'eiji Kiyomizu Kannondo, see Osaki 1995a; on dolls, see also Matsuzaki 1996a: 163. 17. LaFleur 1989: 145. 18. Reader 1991: 46. 19. LaFleur 1989: 145. 20. Maekawa Kyoto and Konko Hojii, personal communication, October 1998.

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21. Kimura 1988: 389. 22. Thompson 1994; see also Culler 1988: r68-r82. 23. Konko Hoju, personal communication, October 1998. 24. On the goma ritual in East Asian esoteric Buddhism, see Strickmann 1983, 1996: 337-368; Payne 1991. 25. Motoyama Koju, personal communication, November 1998. 26. According to certain interpretations, goma can also be a self-sacrifice

in that the officiant renounces the merit he has acquired in the performance of the ritual; see Strickmann 1996: 364. 27. For example, the Jingangfeng louge yiqie yuqieyuqi jing (T r8, 867) describes the internal goma (the officiant's visualization during the performance of the ritual) in which all negative things are thrown into the fire. As a result, glosses Strickmann, "all hindrances are pacified, all sentient beings are exalted, the vajra holders subjugate all their enemies, the mantra girls seduce all beings, and the four Vajra bodhisattvas capture all beings"; see Strickmann 1996: 359· 28. Hubert and Mauss 1964. 29. For the explanation of the effects of sacrificial fire in this paragraph, I

am indebted to Maekawa Kyoto. 30. Maekawa Kyoto, personal communication, October 1998. 3 r. Miller 1998: 75. 32. See Bell 1992, 1997. 33· A notable exception is represented by the Jodo shinshii tradition, which does not consider kuyo services for objects to be funerals. For this important Buddhist denomination, salvation depends solely on the Buddha Amida's grace and cannot be effected through the performance of rituals. I am grateful to Konko Hoju for this clarification. 34· Even though the lack of specific research prevents us from making any general statements, it is fair to assume that lay participants share a similarly composite spectrum of beliefs, as shown by studies on memorial services for animals; Asquith 1986, 1990. 35· Konko Hojii, personal communication, October 1998. 36. Asquith 1990: 184. 37· For a similar position expressed by the Shingon scholar-monk ln'yu (I435-1519), see Chapter r, p. 26. 38. Maekawa Kyoto, personal communication, October 1998. 39· Quoted in Hoshino and Takeda 1993: r88. 40. Umesao 1991; see also Iwata 1991; Miyata 1995: 142-154. 41. Ito Kanji 1996. 42. The question could be reformulated in the following way: "Japanese people since time immemorial have always felt this way. Do you feel part of this tradition or not?" Who would bother to deny such a deeply rooted expression of conformism, especially in a quick survey? 43· Miyata 1996: 134.

314

Notes to Chapter 6 44· Tanaka 1987. 45· Miyata 1995= 156-158, 1996: 134; see also Tokumaru 199I. 46. Asquith 1990: 185. Kretschmer reports the words of the chief priest of

Awashima Kada Shrine who performs such rituals for dolls: "[People] come to the shrine ... to dispose of dolls that might bring evil upon them"; Kretschmer 2000: 384. Fear of a supernatural curse, however, seems to play a major role in memorials for aborted fetuses (mizuko kuyo) and for killed animals. 47· LaFleur 1989: 144 (emphasis added). 48. Ibid.: q6. 49· Ibid.: 145. 50. Bataille 1989, 1991. 51· Reader 1991: 46-47. 52· Baudrillard 1996. 53· Komatsu 1997: 18-19. 54· Mauss 1967. 55. In Komatsu's view, animatism is the belief in an impersonal life force inherent in all entities (both living beings and "inanimate" objects) similar to the Polynesian mana; fetishism, in its classical definition based on the seminal work of Charles de Brosses (1988 [1760]), refers to the belief in an autonomous agency of specific objects. s6. Komatsu 1997= 16. 57· As an anecdote, it might be interesting to note that some people in Japan are slightly annoyed when they receive New Year's wishes postcards from nonrelatives with pictures of the family or of children because such pictures would make it more difficult to dispose of the postcards without proper ritualization. 58. Komatsu 1997: 18. 59· Several informal polls I have taken among my students in Japan over the past few years indicate that about half of the respondents believe in the presence of a spirit (tamashii) in objects, but very few seem to treat this spirit in a typical animistic fashion (at least, as it is described by Japanese ethnologists) as an independent and autonomous entity that is potentially dangerous. Most interpret tamashii as a mere "life force" or, simply, "life" but in highly metaphorical terms; still other respondents claim that an object's soul is actually the soul of its owner that has attached itself to it through constant use. 6o. Komatsu 1997: 18. 6r. Hoshino and Takeda 1993: 189. 62. Richie 1975: 7· 63. Quoted in Fuzoku jiten: 594· 64. Asquith 1990: 183. 65. Honda 1988: 23. 66. Quoted in Miyata 1996: 134; see Tanaka 1985: 86, 1999: 166-167. 67. Jinrin kinmo zui: 262, 264. 68. As Angelika Kretschmer writes, "For Chikuden, the brushes were an extension of his own physical self"; Kretschmer 2000: 384.

Notes to Chapter

6

315

Ibid.: 3S2-383. Kimura 19SS: 3S8-389. Amino, ed., 1976: 301; see also Nagasawa 1989: 119. Amino 1982: 615. Washimi 1988: 101. Amino 19S2: 616-622. See Origuchi 1966: 335-337. Minzokugaku jiten ("Hari kuyo," p. 482) refers to Awashima gannin as "alms begging underclass people" ("zeni o kou senmin"). Awashima gannin were one instance of several groups of itinerant religious figures active during the Edo period responsible for the spread of cults such as Inari, Ise, Konpira, Kojin, and so forth. For studies on these itinerant religious figures, see Kindaichi 1993 and Nakayama 1989. For an Edo period source dealing with Awashima gannin, see ]inrin kinmo zui, p. 265 (see Figure 6.2). Another picture of an Awashima gannin can be found in Amino 1982: 6rS. Since the mid-eighteenth century, Awashima gannin began to appear in Kabuki and Bunraku; see the JOruri Awashima Daimyojin goengi. 76. Saito Genshin (1S04-1878), Buko nenpyo: 126; see also Sano 1996: 69. 70. 71. 72. 73· 74· 75·

353-356. 77· Amino, ed., 1976: 301; see also Nagasawa 19S9: 125. 78. Nagasawa 1989: 126. 79· Engishiki, ST, Koten hen 11: 41S. So. The Chirizuka monogatari, written between 1532 and 1555, describes the Awashima cult in the late middle ages (p. 71). Sr. Kii zoku fudoki 1: 516-517; see also Oshima 1985: 153. 82. A late Edo text, the Zoku Asukagawa (p. 29), indicates that the hon-

jibutsu of Awashima Myojin is Bodhisattva Kokiizo, which suggests that late medieval combinatory practices might still have had some importance at the time. However, Sano Kenji argues that the combinatory practices at the site might have ended at an earlier date, around the mid-Edo period; Sano 1996: 353-356. 83. Washimi 19SS: 101. 84. Sano 1996: 356. On folkloric connections between Kokiizo and childbirth, see Sano 1996: 357-362. S5. The standard origin narrative of Kada Awashima Shrine can be found in Yanase 1998: 1021-1024. It does not contain some of the themes discussed

in this paragraph-perhaps an indication of a modern attempt to erase late medieval and early modern elements from the shrine's tradition. 86. According to the Nihon shoki, Empress Jingii went to the Korean Peninsula where she fought successfully against the kingdom of Silla on behalf of her late husband, Emperor Chiiai. To participate in the military campaign, Empress Jingii had to delay her childbirth, which she did by placing a small stone inside her vagina; see Nihon shoki 1: 336; Kojiki: 199. The baby boy she gave birth to after her victory was the future Emperor Ojin-that is, the human manifestation of the god/Bodhisattva Hachiman; on this subject, see Hachiman gudokun.

3I6

Notes to Chapter 6

87. Zoku Asukagawa: 29. 88. Nenjit gyoji taisei: 68. 89. Hoki naiden, ST Ronsetsu hen I6: 32, 35· 90. Shintoshit, "Gion Daimyojin no koto": 66-67. According to this text, Dragon King Sagara has five daughters: the first is the wife of Daijizaiten (Siva), the second is Harisainyo, the third is the wife of the King of Mount Sumeru (possibly a reference to Indra), the fourth is the wife of the king of hell Enma, and the fifth is the dragon girl who attained sudden enlightenment as described in the Lotus Sutra (T 9: 35b). Interestingly, another medieval document says that Empress Jingu is the second daughter of Dragon King Sagara; she manifested herself in Japan as the god Sumiyoshi, who in turn appeared in human form as the wife of Emperor Chuai; Hachiman Daibosatsu kuketsu (ko version): 43· In other words, it seems that in medieval Japan there was a strong connection among the series of myths related to Empress Jingu, Sumiyoshi, and one daughter of the dragon king-a connection that possibly influenced the development of the Awashima cult. Kannon is, properly speaking, the female honji of Gozu Tenno (the male honji being the Buddha Yakushi). Monju is mentioned as Harisainyo's honji in Bukkyo gyoji saijiki 2: 2I9. 91. On this deity, see also Murayama I98I: 326-329. Before the Meiji anti-Buddhist persecutions, Harisainyo was worshiped at what is now Hanjo Shrine in Kyoto, although it seems that the image of the deity in fact represented Benzaiten. Harisainyo/Harisaijo became Hanjo because of phonetic similarity and, perhaps, also because of the primary goal of worship (business prosperity) at the shrine; see Shinto daijiten 2: I77C-I78a, based on Haikai saijiki shiorigusa 2: I8. At the time, the shrine was actually a Shingon temple called Kudokuin. (See the home page of the shrine at http://www.kyoto-wel .com/mailmag/mso3 I r/mm.htm.) 92. Jinrin kinmo zui (Nihon koten zenshu edition: 265; Toyo bunko edition: 264-265). 93· For a study of the Kada region in the late middle ages, see Ito I99I. 94· Kii zoku fudoki I: 513; see also lto I99I: 29. 9 5. Nakamura Koryu suggests that rituals involving needles came to be associated with Awashima by chance simply because the deity at the shrine is called Harisainyo (lit., "needle talented woman"); Nakamura I965: 105. For a similar interpretation, see also the Web site at http://www.vill.higashishirakawa .gifu.jp/archive/nen/o2-o8.html. 96. ]inrin kinmo zui (Nihon koten zenshu edition: 265; Toyo bunko edition: 264-265). 97· Zoku Asukagawa: 29. 98. On ritual uses of dolls, see Kamino I978. 99· The Suma chapter of Genji monogatari contains a description of this ritual as it was performed toward the late Heian period. In this account, on the third day of the third month, Hikaru Genji summons an Onmyodo specialist to ritually charge the dolls, puts them on a boat, and sets them afloat on the sea; Genji monogatari 2: 52; Waley, trans., I970, I: 253. A form of this ritual resem-

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317

bling its Heian period model is still performed in the Tottori area. We should add that the present-day custom of displaying hina dolls dressed in Heian period robes seems to have originated from a decorative set of dolls made by the granddaughter of Tokugawa Ieyasu, Tofukumon'in (Kazuko), for her daughter, Princess Okiko (1623-1696). When Okiko was six years old, her father, Emperor Go-Mizunoo, retired and elevated her as his successor as Empress Meisho (r. 1629-1643). According to widespread narratives, Tofukumon'in was saddened by this fact because her beautiful daughter would not be able to marry and enjoy family life; thus, she made for her an idealized "family" based on the figures of Ono no Komachi and Ariwara no Narihira (models of beauty and glamour); see Nagata 1989: 72-74. roo. On these rituals, see Asabasho, TZ 9: 168-176, and Kakuzensho, TZ 4: 351-366; see also Hayami 1975: II1-II2, 129-131; Sakurai 1996: 125-146. 101. On Awashima Myojin's cult and its history, see also Oshima 1985: 151-169. 102. Washimi 1988: 95-103. 103. Nakamura 1965: rr3, u6. 104. The eighth day of the second month was considered the birthday of

Sakyamuni according to an old Chinese tradition based on the ]ingchu suishi ji (Keiso saijiki, 85). This day, rather than the more established eighth day of the fourth month, was perhaps more appropriate from a seasonal and climatic point of view to begin the new year's agricultural cycle; analogously, the eighth day of the twelfth month was probably influenced by the ]odo-e rituals celebrating Sakyamuni's attainment of enlightenment; see Shioiri 1989: 76. 105. It has been suggested that Hitotsume Kozo was originally not a pestilence god but a deity bringing in the spring; Nakamura 1965: rq. In this sense, it was connected with folkloric figures known as mikaeri (or mikawari) baasan (ibid.: I20-I2I), probably in turn connected with Datsueba, which can be both dangerous and/or protectors. Mikawari baasan, in particular, was believed to absorb evil influences upon herself so that her devotees were not affected by them. It might be recalled that Datsueba is the main deity of Shojuin, a temple in which hari kuyo is performed today in Tokyo, discussed later. 106. On the folkloric practices related with koto yoka days, see Miyata 1981: 46-53; Yanagita 1977: 182-192; and Nakamura 1965. 107. Haikai saijiki shiorigusa r: 91. 108. Amino 1982: 625. 109. See also Fuzoku jiten, 594; Minzokugaku jiten: 482. The performance of hari kuyo on koto yoka days might not be unrelated to the fact that at that time of the year a fish called harisenbon (lit., "thousand needles," porcupinefish) can be found near the Japan Sea coast. uo. Nakamura 1965: 105. ur. Ibid.: III-II2. Tofu's magical potential might have been related to the fact that a homophone word written with different characters means "peach talisman," probably related to Chinese beliefs in thaumaturgical and magical properties.

318

Notes to Chapter 6

II2. See the temple's home page at http://www.geocities.jp/awashimado. 113. On Datsueba, see Seidel 2003a. 114. The bombings on Tokyo in 1945 almost totally destroyed the temple and its statues so that its original pantheon no longer exists; it is thus very difficult to reconstruct the original cult; see Nagasawa 1988. II5. For a study of this cult, see Yanagita 1964 (section "Seki no obasama"): 137-145· n6. See Nagasawa 1988. n7. Kretschmer 2000: 384. As Kretschmer observes, a notable exception seems to be constituted by some intellectuals, who are aware of these arcane Buddhist doctrines and use them to emphasize their own visions of animism as the core of Japanese culture. n8. Takizawa Bakin, Mukashigatari shichiya no kura; Toriyama Sekien, Gazu hyakki tsurezurebukuro. n9. Hyakki yagyo emaki, in Nihon emakimono taikei 25: 69-91; related essay by Komatsu Shigemi on 126-r 4 I. On this text and the animate nature and secret life of objects, see also Baltrusaitis 19 55. 120. For details, see Tanaka 1994. 12!. Ibid.: 2!5-216. 122. For the dating of the Tsukumogami emaki, see Tanaka 1994: 216. The conventional term otogizoshi refers to a heterogeneous corpus of about 400 short stories mostly written during the Muromachi period (fourteenthsixteenth centuries). Based on religious stories (setsuwa), on earlier monogatari narratives, and on the materials used by itinerant minstrels for their oral performances, they exist in several forms: illustrated scrolls, illustrated booklets, or printed fascicles. See Tokuda 1988; Ruch 1971. 123. Tsukumogami ki, in Muromachi jidai monogatari, 9: 417-425; see also Komatsu 1995: 175-212. 124. Komatsu 1994: 327-330. The most famous example of such ambivalence is Sugawara no Michizane. Formerly a high-ranking minister of state, he lost an important power struggle against the Fujiwara clan and was exiled to Kyushu. According to the legend, he died full of resentment and promised to come back as a ghost (goryo) to take revenge against his enemies. And so he did. All those responsible for his demise died tragically and in rapid succession; in addition, the country was hit by natural disasters. Eventually, the ghost of Michizane was pacified and enshrined in the Kitano district of Kyoto as the great god Tenman Daijizai, protector of learning and of the Fujiwara clan. 125. Tanaka 1994: 172-r8I. 126. For this typology, although treated differently and without reference to Yamanba, see Komatsu 1994: 327-328. 127. Tanaka 1994: r6o-r62. 128. Tanaka Takako believes that some passages from a Chinese text, the Soushenji, known in Japan since the early ninth century, resemble parts of the Tsukumogami ki; Tanaka 1994: 183-186. Michel Strickmann reports

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319

that in Tantric rituals throughout Asia, including China and Japan, vases and jars were used as containers for the deities; Strickmann also mentions the Kumbhiil)c;la, demons with the form of vases (kumbha); Strickmann 1996: 75; see also 163, 207,400,442, n. 55, and 443, n. 75· Vessels were also used as containers of spirits in magical rituals; Tatsumi 1996: 60-70. Archeological findings from the eleventh-thirteenth centuries suggest the existence of rites for the disposal of used pottery; limura 1997. The eleventh century collection Konjaku monogatarishu includes a tale about a man killed by an oil jar (Konjaku monogatarishu 4: 502-503); another tale is about the spirit of a copper pot that took the shape of a human being and killed a sick person (ibid.: 484-485). Tanaka mentions an episode from the Imakagami; Komatsu 1994: 166. Several painted scrolls contain demons depicted as objects: Fudo riyaku engi emaki (thirteenth century); Tsuchigumo-zoshi and Yuzu nenbutsu engi emaki (fourteenth century); and Bakemono-zoshi (Muromachi period). The Bakemono-zoshi, in particular, describes a ladle turning into a white hand, a sake vase turning into a monk, and a scarecrow turning into a man; see also Ema 1977. 129. My synopsis is based on the text included in Muromachi monogatari ro: 231-282, 337-347, and in Muromachi jidai monogatari taisei 9: 417-425. For a list of other published versions (with very few differences among each other), see ibid.: 417. For an illustrated synopsis, see also Komatsu 1995: 188-212. 130. In this passage, the text refers to the abstract category of "objects" through the term "plants" (somoku), one of the traditional philosophical terms used to describe inanimate entities in general; see also Chapter r. r3r. On this ritual, see MDJ, s.v. "Sonshoho," 1425b-q26a. 132. Incidentally, the presence and the role of a rhetoric of "ghosts" and "ogres" (oni) in premodern discourses about rebellion are discussed in Komatsu and Naito 1985. 133. Hanada 1978: 436; see also Komatsu 1994: 339, and Tanaka 1994: 167. 134. Miyata 1996: 134. 135. Shibusawa 1994: 296-298. 136. Komatsu 1994: 340-341. 137. Komatsu 1994, 1997. 138. Miyata 1996: 134. I39· See Matsuzaki 1996b: 25-27. qo. The equivalents of these premodern ghost stories circulate today around museums (repositories of old things); see Kondo 1995: 193-210. 141. The following discussion is indebted to Ii 1976: 151-261. 142. On Buddhist attitudes toward literature in Japan, see LaFleur 1983; Plutschow 1990. 143· Choken, Genji ipponkyo, in Zoho Kokugo kokubungakushi taisei 3: 37; see Ii 1976: 154-r6o. Since the Genji monogatari consists of fifty-four chapters and the Lotus Sutra of twenty-eight, a system of reduction was necessary,

320

Notes to Chapter 6

according to criteria explained in Ii 1976: 175-176. The ipponkyo is a ritual in which a group of people gathers and each copies one chapter (ippon) of the scripture. 144. Murasaki Shikibu no maki, in Muromachi monogatari 9: 391-402; see also Ii 1976: 189-195; Genji kuyo, in YT 2: 1025-1042. 145· Homotsushu: 229; see also Ii 1976: 168. q6. Fujiwara Nobuzane, Ima monogatari, in Kaitei Shiseki shuran 10; Miki Sumito, ed., Ima monogatari (Kodansha gakujutsu bunko 1348): 252; see also Ii 1976: 170. 147. Shin chokusen wakashu: 92-95, esp. 94; see also Ii 1976: 173-178. We have a glimpse of the ritual for Kakinomoto no Hitomaro from a text, dated 1n8, entitled Kakinomoto eigu ki, in GR 16: 58-6o; see Ii 1976: 177-178. q8. Genji kuyo zoshi, in Ii 1976: 215-256; see discussion, ibid.: 184-187. This form of recycling seems to have been a common practice in ancient and medieval Japan; it is also mentioned in the Izumi Shikibu zokushu: 168, poems 987 and 988. 149. My discussion of the temple's activities draws upon the information that was provided at the time by the temple's Web site (http://www.thezen .or.jp). I am grateful to Tara Doyle for initially drawing my attention to this Web site. However, by the time I was writing the final version of this book's manuscript, the temple no longer maintained a home page (even the phone number advertised over the Internet was no longer in use), and the primary sources for my discussion had disappeared from cyberspace. Fragments may be reconstructed from information in various other sites; see, for example, http:// internet.watch.impress.co.jp/www.article/970415/ichioshi.htm . 150. This was based on Jomoji's home page at http://www.thezen.or.jp/ jomoh/index.html. 151. As the temple's home page explained, "(a]s the principle [sic] unit of the computer is the kilobyte (1024), it only seemed logical to hold the service on the 24th day of the 1oth month." 152. It was included in the Web page http://www.threeweb.ad.jp/-vrkito/ jyoumou, which apparently no longer exists. 153. As emphasized by the temple's Web site, these amulets were made with special silk designed by a company owned by the temple's head priest. 154. From "A Guide to Buddhist Memorial Services: A Buddhist Prayer for Lost Information," which was included in http://www.thezen.or.jp/jomoh/ kuyo.html. 155. Ibid. 156. See also Ivy 1989. 157. On this subject, see Van Bremen 1995. 158. It is interesting that this memorial service for immaterial, computerized, but nevertheless "living" entities began at the same time designers were developing games involving immaterial living beings, such as Pokemon (Pocket Monsters) and Tamagotchi computer pets. Nakazawa Shin'ichi explicitly refers

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321

to the ghosts painted in the Edo period in the Hyakki yagyo series in connection with present-day representations of monsters in electronic games; Nakazawa 1997: 47• 159. Asquith 1990: r87. 160. Quoted in Osaki 1997: r6. 16r. Reader 1991: 46-47. 162. Osaki 1997: 16. 163. Asquith 1990: 186. 164. Ibid.: 18 5. 165. This attitude was also present in premodern Japan-for instance, in Buddhist justifications for hunting in the Suwa area (in which hunting will deliver the animals from their animal condition and promote their reincarnation on higher levels of being) or for fishing (in which fish caught in the nets are envisioned as manifestations of Kannon who sacrificed herself for the welfare of her worshipers). On Tantric reversal, see Rambelli 1994. On violence as an instrument of salvation, see Iyanaga 1985; on modern Buddhist justifications for the use of violence, see Victoria 1997. 166. On the theoretical implications of the combination of morphology and genealogy in historical research, see Ginzburg 1991. r67. Kretschmer 2ooo: 384. 168. Asquith 1990: r84. 169. Komatsu 1997: 18-19. 170. LaFleur 1989: 145. 17r. Asquith 1990: 185. 172. See Asquith 1990; Miyata 1996: 134. However, as we have seen, Angelika Kretschmer quotes the priest of Awashima Kada Shrine, whose words seem to imply an assertion of the dangerous nature of the spirits of dolls. 173. LaFleur 1989: 147. 174. Yamamoto 1976: 208-209. 175. Asquith 1990: 187. 176. LaFleur 1989: 145-146. 177. Kimura 1988: 388-389. 178. LaFleur 1989: I45· I79· Michael Taussig has studied in depth two specific cases of expression in religious terms of a more general cultural anxiety about the capitalistic transformation of the economy and related social changes in Colombia; see Taussig 1980.

Chapter 7 r. See in particular Rossi-Landi 1977, 1983. 2. De Martino addressed this issue specifically concerning "magic," broadly understood as the set of practices and beliefs related to the actualization and reproduction of a culture's own metahistory. He wrote: "The historical significance of magic's protective techniques ... manifests itself only if we

322

Notes to Chapter 7

consider these techniques as an instance of a cultural dynamics existing within an individual civilization, a particular society, a specific time"; De Martino 2001: III-II2. 3· Yasumaru 1979: 31-32. 4· It is significant that classic studies of economic goods and services often ignore religious objects and rituals and even find it hard to define the status of artistic activities and artifacts. For a standard example, see Hill 1977. In this respect, it should be mentioned that one of the most significant contributions of poststructuralism and cultural studies has been the attempt to formulate and discuss the economic impact of symbolic activities. 5· Appadurai 1986: 5· 6. Ibid.: 4r. 7· As indicated by Bourdieu 1998. 8. Lefebvre r966: 342. 9· Csikszentmihalyi and Rochberg-Halton 1981: 17, 20, 2r. ro. Appadurai 1986: rr. I I. Ibid. 12. Kopytoff 1986: 68. I3. Ibid.: 69. I4· Ibid. 15. Bourdieu 1998. r6. A typical example is the Ko-gannon (Small Kannon) at Todaiji's Nigatsudo, one of the few hibutsu that is still completely secret today (apparently, no visual representations of it exist). This miraculous icon is said to have arrived floating on the sea to Japan directly from Kannon's paradise on Mount Potalaka (Jp. Fudarakusen) in response to priest Jitchu's prayers; Nigatsudo e-engi 1545; ZGR 27 ge: 128; see also Kawamura 1984: 77· 17. Godelier 1999: 200. r8. We should also note that the characteristics of such "valuable" items (objects not intended to be exchanged) given by Godelier do not fully apply to the Japanese case; see Godelier 1999: r6r. 19. Pomian 1997: 80-83. 20. This typology was presented originally in Baudrillard r98r. For a critique, see Kellner 1989. 2r. See Eco 1976: r83-r87, 217-260. 22. Quoted in Hiruma 1980: 65-69. 23. The early modern phenomenon of public displays of secret icons (kaicho) is particularly significant in this regard; see Rambelli 2002b. 24. Taniguchi 2002: 5, 7-8. 25. Hatta 1994: 54, 55· 26. See Tanaka 198r; the novel was originally published in installments in the magazine Bungei in 1980. For a discussion of the novel, see Field 1989. 27. One should also not forget another peculiar atmospheric effect of many Buddhist objects in contemporary Japan-namely, that of constituting

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323

the "dark" side of the "bright" modern Japanese cities-something that is particularly true of butsudan and, to a certain extent, of Buddhist temples. Ishigami Fumimasa has argued that the deepest point of sacred space is the oku, a term that can be translated as the interior, the inner parts, the depths, the bottom of a space. Oku is the point in which the natural and the supernatural, the sacred and the profane intersect. In the house, this point is constituted by the butsudan. However, contemporary houses, with their lack of traditional structure and directionality (spatiality), make it difficult to represent this concept. At the same time, the meaning of oku has gradually shifted from the traditional "depth" to a contemporary sense of unpleasant "darkness." See Ishigami 1985: 82, 109-nr. Contemporary attempts to turn the butsudan into a "normal" piece of furniture, with a sleek design but still dedicated to storing memories of family members, might be a tendency to counter the somber image that this ritual object has acquired. 28. Indeed, it is possible to participate in Japanese culture without paying any attention to sacred objects and ideas about their status. As a matter of fact, even formally religious people are not "required" to own a Buddhist altar for their ancestors, to participate in memorial services for inanimate objects, to have a knowledge of Buddhist doctrines on the nonsentients, to worship secret buddhas, or to read sacred books. 29. Williams 1985: 319 (bold in the original). 30. Ibid.: 184. 3 r. Ibid.: 197. 32· Ibid. 33· Ibid. 34· This fact, however, shows the symbolic power and resilience ofTantric doctrines and rituals that are still part, albeit in indirect and nonexplicit form, of the cultural vocabulary of contemporary Japan. 35· See Bataillc 1989, 1991. 36. Bourdieu 1998.

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393

Unjigi, 19 Un'yu (1614-1693), 31 Ususama Myoo, 179 Vajra (kongokai) mandala, 22, 35, 182, 193 vajra (thunderbolt) ritual implement, 59, 65, 73, 137, 155, 184 Vajrasattva (Jp. Kongosatta), II7, 191 value of objects, 90, 245, 261, 265-269 vmp, 35 Vedic religion, 14 Vimiilakirti Siitra, 32 Vinaya, 13, 68, 70 Vipasyin, the first Buddha, 161 visualizations, II3-I14, 121. See also kan; kanjin; meditation; samiidhi Visvakarman, 82, 83

Waka poems, 249 waniguchi (Buddhist cymbal), 58 warriors (bushi), 178-179, I88-189, 203 Washimi Sadanobu, 233 weapons, 179, 188 Weber, Max, 207 Weijuan (active 840), 30 Who Framed Roger Rabbit, 161 Williams, Raymond, 270-271 Wisdom Sutras, Ioo, 102. See also Diamond Sutra; Heart Sutra; Large Wisdom Sutra; Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines Womb (taizokai) mandala, 22, 35, 182, 193 women's cults and religiosity, as related to objects, 229-236, 255 "written speech acts," 123 Wu Zetian, Empress (d. 705), 38, 54-55 Xuanzang (602-664), 55

394

Index

yak$a (Jp. yasha), 13, roo, 152-153 Yakushi, rso, r86, I9I, 194 yamabushi, 53, 174, 176, 182, 186, 204. See also Shugendo Yamaga Soko (1622-1685), 138 Yamagata Banto (1748-182I), 197 Yamanba, 239 Yamano Aiko, 253 Yamato Katsuragi Hazanki, 137 Yasumaru Yoshio, 261 yasuri (rasp), r8o Yellow Emperor (Huang Di), 179 Yogacara tradition (Ch. Faxiang, Jp. Hosso), 15 yokai (ghosts), 22 r Yokyoku taikan, 54 yorishiro (receptacles of deities and spirits), 8 5, 142, 143, 144, 146, 154, 155 yoriudo (itinerant professionals affiliated with temples), 167 Yosa Buson (r7r6-r783), 235

Yoshida Kanetomo (1435-I5rr), 138 Yoshida Shinto, 138 Yugi (1536-r612), 97 Yuien (fl. 1288), 93 Yuishinsho mon'i, 48 Yukai (1345-1416), 79-80 Zeami (1363?-1443?), 54 Zen Buddhism, 47, 50, 68, 141, r88, 214,216 Zhanran (7rr-782), 16-17, 22, 26, 29-32 Zhiyi (538-597), 15, 31, 41, 43, 73, 101, rr3 Zhongyin jing (Jp. Chitingyo), 22, 31-32, 37, 41, 48, 54, 94, 189 Zhuangzi, r6, 26, 133, 277n26, 279n74 Zoku Asukagawa, 229, 231 Zongying (active 845), 30 zuien (conditioned nature), 77 zushi (feretories), 92, ro8