In one remote corner of Japan,
Emperor still considered a god
By RONALD E. YATES
(This article was first published in the
Chicago Tribune of November 11, 1990)
After Akihito formally becomes Japan's 125th emperor Monday in state ceremonies in
Tokyo, he will be treated with respect, deference and perhaps even some indifference.
He won't be worshiped as a god, as his predecessors were.
But two weeks later, amid the towering cypress and camphor trees on the Shima Peninsula
300 miles southwest of Tokyo, Akihito will enter the 2,000-year-old Grand Shinto Shrine of
Ise (pronounced E-say) and for two days retreat into the mists of ancient Japanese
mythology.
With the Empress Michiko and several dozen Shinto priests trailing respectfully behind,
Akihito will cross the graceful Uji Bashi (bridge) with its unpainted cypress planking and
zelkova wood pillars, which spans the limpid waters of the sacred 13-mile-long Isuzu River.
Then, dressed in 8th Century court clothing made from threads spun by special imperial
silkworms, Akihito will pass stately 800-year-old cryptomeria trees and climb the stone steps
leading to the carefully concealed Naiku Inner Shrine, the most venerated spot in all Japan.
Once inside, Akihito will report his coronation to his imperial ancestors, including the Sun
Goddess Amaterasu Omikami, who is enshrined there. Amaterasu is venerated as the
patriarch of Japan's imperial family and, according to Shinto beliefs, the mythical founder of
this nation of 123 million.
In Ise, unlike in Tokyo where the postwar constitution defines the emperor as the
''symbol of the state and of the unity of the people'' — but not a divine being, as in prewar
times — and where debates still rage about his role in modern Japan, the head of the imperial family is still
regarded unabashedly as a living god.
''The changes in the emperor's status after the war occurred only in written form in a
document," said Michihiro Okunishi, one of the white-robed chief priests sitting on the
tatami floor of his spartan office. ''But here, we don't recognize that any substantial change
has taken place in the emperor's being. We are still the emperor's faithful
servants."
Not all Japanese feel such allegiance and fondness for the imperial family. In the last two
weeks, leftist radicals set off bombs in Tokyo and in three Shinto shrines in Japan, killing one
person and injuring nine others.
The radicals promise to continue until the emperor and all his heirs are dead. Okunishi and
the hundreds of other priests at Ise have heard it all before. After all, they point out, the
servant-master relationship between Shinto priests and the imperial family dates back to
earliest recorded Japanese history — about 400 B.C.
Unlike Buddhism, which was imported from China around 710 A.D., Shinto (literally
''The Way of the Gods'') is an indigenous religion that grew out of the ancient animistic and tribal
mythology of Japan.
It teaches that all things, animate and inanimate, have their own kami or gods and are to be
worshiped or revered. Included in this vast number of deities are one's
ancestors — a belief that once encouraged Japanese to view themselves as
''special."
Beginning around 850 A.D., a bitter, 1,000-year struggle developed between Shintoism and
Buddhism. The more pragmatic beliefs of Buddhism often won the minds, if not always the
hearts, of the Japanese. Not until 1868, when Emperor Meiji overthrew the powerful Shogun
families who had kept Japan closed off from the rest of the world, did Shintoism re-emerge.
After Shinto was declared a state religion in the late 19th Century, its priests were elevated to
the status of civil servants and the religion was used to justify Imperial
Japan's attempt to conquer neighboring Asian nations.
Japan's postwar constitution clearly separates church and state, and the
nation's 81,325 Shinto shrines receive no government money.
But Shinto's 2,000-year hold on the Japanese is evident during a trip to
Ise.
Not only does an official imperial emissary travel to the Grand Shrine every fall to offer the
gods rice from the emperor's personal garden, but some 7 million Japanese every year make
pilgrimages to Ise.
First they walk the pebbled path to the Geku or Outer Shrine where
Toyouke-Omikami, the
goddess of harvests, food and clothing, is enshrined.
Then they cross the Uji bridge. They stop to dip their hands into the Isuzu River and purify
themselves before continuing up the path and through the huge wooden torii, or entrance
gates, leading to the Naiku.
Only the emperor and a handful of Shinto priests are permitted to view the Grand Shrine,
which is hidden behind high wooden walls.
A number of ancient rituals still surround Ise, including one that has been repeated every 20
years since 690 A.D.
Following a carefully staggered schedule, the Shinto priests of Ise summon special craftsmen
to dismantle all the shrine's buildings and the Uji bridge and rebuild them exactly as before
using the ancient implements and building techniques.
The only change is that the rebuilt Grand Shrine is moved back and forth every 20 years
between two sacred squares of land.
''It is a process of renewal," says the priest, Okunishi. ''It is a kind of prayer for the
renewal of life itself, of the Japanese nation."
© Chicago Tribune, 1990,
2003

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Editor's note: Ronald
E. Yates launched his professional career with a BSJ (Bachelor of Science in
Journalism) from the University of Kansas back in 1969. Apart from Japan,
where he served as Tokyo bureau chief for the Chicago Tribune from
1974 to 1977, and once again from 1985 to 1992, his colorful and sometimes
hazardous life as a foreign correspondent has taken him to
Vietnam, the Philippines, South Korea, China, Thailand, Indonesia,
Singapore, Taiwan, Hong Kong, Cambodia, Malaysia, Afghanistan,
India and Pakistan, as well as Mexico, and various hot spots in Central and South
America.
Besides penning something like 3,000
articles over the years, he has authored and co-authored several
books, perhaps the best known of which is "The Kikkoman
Chronicles: A Global Company with a Japanese Soul" —
the fascinating story of how a centuries-old Japanese soy sauce maker
steeped in tradition embraced modern technology and marketing
methods in order to win success in the tough U.S. market.
Since 2003 Prof. Yates has been Dean of
the College of
Media at the University of Illinois, which includes
the Department of Journalism he previously headed. For more detailed biographical notes, and an impressive selection
of telling articles, please visit the author’s personal homepage
at http://yates.ds.uiuc.edu/new/index.html.
I would like to express sincere thanks to Prof. Yates for granting
permission to republish the above article here in Eyes on Japan. |
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