A Visit to the Temples of Hiei-zan - Japan

In 2009 I was living and studying in Japan. I moved from Tokyo to Osaka for just over a month in the late summer. One weekend I decided to visit Hiei-zan, or Mount Hiei, a mountain sacred to Japan’s Tendai Buddhists and the famous ‘Marathon Monks.’ What follows is the travel diary I wrote at the time, describing my trip:

Saturday – September 19^th 2009

Took an early morning train from Osaka Station to Hieizan-Sakamoto. Mount Hiei itself sits to the northeast of Kyoto; rising to an elevation of almost 2,800 feet, it commands an excellent view of nearby Lake Biwa. From Hieizan-Sakamoto took the ‘Sakamoto Cable’, which is actually a funicular railway, to the top. The Sakamoto Cable is rather like the Peak Tram on Hong Kong Island, except the car is somewhat larger and the slope of the track is much gentler and far less steep. Part way up the car passes a small cave and it is possible to catch a brief glimpse within of the tiered ranks of red bibbed Jizo figures carved from stone, all flickering in the light cast from innumerable candles. Jizo-sama is the bodhisattva (Kṣitigarbha), who is particularly revered in Japan as the guardian deity who protects deceased children. Further up, at the midpoint of the Cable’s ascent the single track splits off into two parallel tracks before reuniting again in a single track. This is the point at which the two cars, one ascending and the other descending, pass by one another. From this point upwards, through the gaps in the trees, it is possible to get some magnificent glimpses of Lake Biwa receding far below.

Lake Biwa

At the top, emerging from the Cable terminal building the view is beautiful. Lake Biwa is vast. It is Japan’s largest lake, and, according to my aged guidebook, it is the second oldest freshwater lake in the world after Lake Baikal in Siberia, which I think I’ve seen from airplane windows several times on various flights to and from Asia over the last few years. Looking out across Lake Biwa, rising out of the misty haze in the distance, I could see a small black, almost perfectly cone-shaped mountain which apparently is known as ‘Shiga’s Little Mount Fuji’, the area ahead of it being Shiga Prefecture. From the Sakamoto Cable stop it was a short stroll to the first temple – Enryaku-ji, the real reason for venturing up Mount Hiei.

Riding the Sakamoto Cable

The Sakamoto Cable Terminal Building

Enryaku-ji is not a single temple building, but rather it is the name given to a collection of temples and other religious buildings which are all concentrated around three separate places at the top of the mountain ridge, all nestling amidst the tall ancient pine trees. Enryaku-ji was founded in 788 AD (during the Heian Era) by a Buddhist monk named Saicho (767-822), sanctified after his death as Dengyō Daishi. He built a temple here to house an image of Yakushi Nyorai, the Buddha of Healing, which he had carved from a fallen tree. After studying in China he returned to Hiei-zan in 805 and founded the Tendai sect of Japanese Buddhism. Tendai (天台宗), meaning ‘Heavenly Terrace’ or ‘Heavenly Platform’, is a school of Buddhism primarily founded upon the tenets of the Lotus Sutra, which is held to represent the ultimate truth of the Buddha; however, Tendai Buddhism also incorporates certain elements of Japanese Shinto, the native animist religion of Japan, which focusses belief upon a range of deities, genius loci or elemental spirits of nature, thus making Tendai a distinctly Japanese line of Buddhist doctrine.

A number of other famous monks who came after Saicho, who studied at the mountain monastery on Hiei-zan, eventually went on to modify these original principles and thus found variant sects of Buddhism, many of which – along with Tendai – are still practiced today. Among them there was Kobo Daishi (774-835), who founded the Shingon, or ‘True Word’ sect; Hōnen (1133-1212), who founded the Jōdoshū, or ‘Pure Land’ sect, who also coined the nembutsu, or simple practice of chanting “Nama Amida Butsu” – meaning “Praise to Amida Buddha.” Shinran (1173-1263) broke away from the Jōdoshū to found the Jōdo Shinshū, or ‘True Pure Land’ sect in 1224. The monk Nichiren (1222-1282) founded another sect, which was named Nichiren after him; it has a strict scholarly doctrine, similarly based around the scripture of the Lotus Sutra, it deems all other texts and sects as heretical.

In its early days the monastery of Enryaku-ji received generous Imperial funding, hence Court officials were sent up the mountain for a twelve year period of study. The Tendai sect began to expand in size, wealth and political power, eventually owning vast tracts of land and maintaining its own army of several hundred well-trained warrior monks. The sect often feuded with rival sects, particularly with Kōfuku-ji at Nara, but all of this was put to a stop in 1571 by the regional Daimyō, Oda Nobunaga (1534-1582), a powerful warlord who sought to unify Japan by securing control of much of Honshu, the main island of Japan. He led 30,000 troops up Hiei-zan and raised most of the Enryaku-ji complex. It was only after Nobunaga’s death that under his successor, Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1537-1598), the monks were free to rebuild and properly restore Enryaku-ji. The sacred traditions, however, have since continued unbroken to this day, and in 1994 the temple complex was designated by UNESCO a 'World Cultural Asset.'

Kaidan-in

Hiei-zan is a remarkably peaceful place, it is wonderfully serene and very tranquil. Approaching the first part of the temple complex the low soft boom of one of the temple bells resonated through the tall pine and cedar trees, lending to the stillness of the high forest that deep sense of the venerably old and sacred, the echo of traditions continuing in reverberations unchanged by the centuries. The first building here is the Konpon Chū-dō, or the Central Main Hall, Enryaku-ji’s most sacred building. This is the hall originally founded by Saicho in 788 as the Ichijō Shikan-in or the ‘Temple of the Calming Contemplation of the One Vehicle’, housing the Yakushi Nyorai (literally, the Medicine Teacher, or Buddha of Healing). The interior of this temple has a deep ambience. The altars are set in a sunken area behind the worship floor, hidden in an incense-scented gloom, which is only dimly lit by a range of very antique-looking lamps. These lamps are oil burning, and, according to tradition, the three large lamps in front of the main altar have been kept perpetually alight for over 1,200 years, having originally been lit by Saicho himself. It is not clearly known how the lights survived Nobunaga’s attack, although it is believed by some that they were shielded somehow or somewhere on the mountain. Another tradition, however, holds that they did go out, but that a monk was despatched to Yamadera, north of Edo (present day Tokyo), where a lamp which had originally been lit from that of Enryaku-ji still burnt, hence he was able to bring back a light which was continuous from that of the original.

Sanno-in

Here, in the Konpon Chū-dō, it is the custom for visitors to make a coin offering and place a pinch of incense on the incense burner before the Yakushi Nyorai statue hidden away inside its cabinet. Outside, the area in front of the temple is enclosed by a courtyard with a small garden, with raked gravel in the centre. Around the gallery of this courtyard there was row upon row of shodō, or calligraphy, pinned up, jet black ink on clear white paper, each character made up of beautifully composed and perfectly proportioned brushstrokes. From here a set of steep steps leads up to the Monjū-rō. This is a tall building, a kind of gatehouse built like a square arch. A steep, almost vertical staircase is found inside each of the building’s two legs, one for ascending and the other for descending. Removing my shoes, as is customary entering most buildings in Japan, especially old or sacred ones, I climbed up the stairs and found a monk kneeling before an altar (facing towards the Konpon Chū-do). He was chanting from an open set of sutra leaves (presumably the Lotus Sutra?) laid out before him, pausing every now and then for the briefest of moments to clear his throat or to tap a bowl-shaped bronze bell. Along with a short row of other visitors I kneeled in the narrow space just a few feet behind the monk and listened as he chanted in an oddly melodious monotone. The inside of this tall wooden loft-like building with its cramped interior rather reminded me of the interior of a drafty old church bell-tower in England.

Jodo-in

Leaving the Monjū-rō, I explored the rest of Enryaku-ji’s Tō-dō, or ‘East Area’, visiting the Hokke Sōji-in, the ‘Lotus Sutra Holding Temple’; and four halls close together, the Kanjo-dō, Tō-dō, Jakkō-dō, and Amida-dō – this area of the temple complex was burnt to the ground during Oda Nobunaga’s attack and wasn’t properly rebuilt until 1987, some 400 years later. From here an old stone path lined with dai-dōrō stone lanterns leads through the forest to the Sai-tō, or ‘West Area’. Passing the Sannō-in you reach the Jōdo-in, or ‘Pure Land Temple’, which is also the mausoleum of Saicho himself. He was laid to rest here when he died in 822, and it is therefore held to be the purest sanctuary on the mountain. The priests who live here are called ‘Jishin’, and like the court officials of the Heian Era who used to spend twelve years in retreat on the mountain as a service to Dengyō Daishi (the posthumous honorific name of Saicho), they too spend twelve years here, dedicated to a life of strict religious observance. It seemed as though not many visitors venture in here, or if they do they largely seem to miss the small temple at the rear, consequently – with its raked gravel – it is one of the more serene temples on the mountain.

Ninai-do - "Benkei's Shoulders"

From here you continue onwards, passing between the two linked meditation and chanting halls of the Ninai-dō: respectively, the Hokke-dō and Jōgyō-dō, or the ‘Lotus’ and ‘Constant Practice’ halls, more commonly known as ‘Benkei’s Shoulders’ after the twelfth century warrior monk turned hero of popular folklore, whom I saw depicted in a Noh play earlier in the year in Japan’s National Noh Theatre in Tokyo’s Shibuya. Benkei (1155-1189) is supposed to have hoisted the two halls, which are connected by a passageway bridge, under which the path passes, onto his shoulders as one of his many remarkable feats of strength. Down the slope from here is the Shaka-dō, or ‘Sakyamuni Hall’, which is the main temple building of the West Area. This building was originally part of the Onjō-ji Temple located at the foot of Hiei-zan beside Lake Biwa, but it was moved up onto the mountain under the orders of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the second great unifier of Japan, to replace the hall destroyed by Nobunaga. Consequently it is now the oldest temple building extant on the mountain, even though the nearby Ruri-dō (which I wasn’t able to visit) which survived Nobunaga’s attack is the oldest in situ. Beyond the Shaka-dō, a climb up past the Shōrō bell leads to a curious site – the tip of an old spire which is all that remains of a pagoda which once stood on the spot, looking rather like a holy TV aerial! – I forget now the story as to why the pagoda is gone, but I suspect it was very likely burnt down or destroyed during Nobunaga’s attack and never rebuilt.

Shaka-do

The Old Pagoda Spire

To reach the third of the main temple sites on Hiei-zan I hopped on a local bus to Yokawa, where the temple buildings are more widely spaced within the woods. They are namely, the Yokawa Chū-dō, the Shiki Kō-dō, the Eshin-dō, and the Jōkō-in, or ‘Temple of Constant Light’, where I passed a monk sat writing at a desk by a window and bowed ‘hello’ to him, to which he rather auspiciously bowed and said a prayer of blessing in return. This was the place where Nichiren had lived and studied. The nearby Konpon Nyohō-tō, is a pagoda shrouded in the trees, where great numbers of sutras which have been copied out as acts of piety are permanently stored away. Not too far beyond, there is a little hall dedicated to the Goddess Benten, set amidst a small pond, like a miniature version of the Benten-dō on the island at the centre of Shinobazu-ike, or Shinobazu Pond, in Tokyo’s Ueno [subject of a future Waymarks blog post]. 

Shiki Ko-do

Tsuno Daishi

The Shiki Kō-dō, or ‘Four Seasons Hall’, is also known as the Ganzan Daishi-Dō. The first name derives from the fact that in 967 lectures on the Lotus Sutra were given here in each of the four seasons by order of the Emperor Murakami (926-967). The other name is derived from Ryōgen Jie Daishi or Ganzan Daishi (912-985), a monk who while meditating here during a great plague was transformed into the image of a very hideous demon (Tsuno Daishi, ‘Horned Great Master’) which successfully scared away the malevolent influences causing the illness and suffering brought on by the plague – this image, drawn by another acolyte who witnessed the transformation, is still used today as a talisman (or ofuda in Japanese), pinned up over doorways to ward off illness and evil. It was both amusing and bemusing to see a tour group of older Japanese, who had been following hot on my heels since the Shaka-dō, arriving and all hurrying in to genuflect at each of the altars in the various halls here as it was now only minutes away from closing for the day. All of them obliviously trampling over the neatly raked gravel in their greed to secure the good health and good fortune which a prayer said at this particular temple is said to guarantee.

Ganzan Daishi (left) - Tsuno Daishi (right)

Straw Sandals

Nichiren

Here too, I also saw a row of very worn out and badly battered straw sandals all hung up in a line along a bamboo pole. I wondered if these were the discarded pairs of sandals worn by one of the famous ‘Marathon Monks’ of Hiei-zan? – I first learned about these remarkable monks from a television documentary which I think was shown on the BBC in the late 1980s. These monks undertake an extremely exacting form of walking meditation, visiting all of the holy places on Hiei-zan repeatedly over the course of a thousand days, dressed in striking white robes and wearing a distinctive long, narrow hat (shaped rather like an Andean reed boat) which must be kept level as they walk, thus maintaining both perfect poise and good posture. The mental and physical practice is all about focus and discipline, and ultimately such an enormous feat of endurance leads to the Buddhist goal of enlightenment. My battered old guidebook gives the following account of them: “Followers of Tendai believe that the route to enlightenment lies through chanting, esoteric ritual and extreme physical endurance. The most rigorous of these practices is the ‘thousand-day ascetic mountain pilgrimage’ in which, marathon monks, as they are popularly known, are required to walk 40,000 km through the mountains and streets of Kyoto in a thousand days. The equivalent of nearly a thousand marathons. The thousand days are split into hundred day periods over seven years, but during that period the monk has to go out every day, in all weathers, regardless of his physical condition. He must adhere to a strict vegetarian diet and, at one point during the seven years, go on a week-long fast with no food, water or sleep, just for good measure.

            Not surprisingly, many monks don’t make it – in the old days they were expected to commit ritual suicide if they had to give up. Those that do finish (nowadays about one person every five years) are rewarded with enlightenment and become “living Buddhas.” Apparently, the advice of modern marathon monks is much sought after by national baseball coaches and others involved in endurance training.” (The Rough Guide to Japan, 2003?)

Shiga's Little Mount Fuji - Mount Mikami

From Yokawa I took the bus back along the mountain to Tō-dō, and then a second bus which wound back down the mountainside, catching further beautiful views across Lake Biwa as it descended. The bus continued on to Kyoto, where it crossed the bridge which marks the end of the Tokaidō, the old post road connecting Kyoto with Edo evocatively depicted in the gorgeous woodcuts of my favourite Japanese Ukiyo-e, or ‘floating world’ artist, Ando Hiroshige [see here, for an account of my walking part of the old Tokaidō at Hakone]. The bus terminated at Kyoto Railway Station from which I caught the train back to Osaka, where, having spent the best part of the day on foot making this small pilgrimage amidst the fresh, clear pine-scented mountain air, the hearty appetite I’d built up was happily sated with a dinner of okonomiyaki (a kind of Japanese omelette, traditional to the Kansai region) and a large cold beer.

 Marathon Monks of Mount Hiei (2002)

Buddhapada - The Buddha's Footprints