After surviving centuries of persecution, the Hidden Christians are quietly disappearing

Traveling around Japan, I’ve come upon some unusual statues, testaments to the years Christianity was deemed a crime punishable by death. From the Maria Jizo of Narai in Nagano, to the Maria Kannon’s of Nagasaki, Christians made do with what they could contrive to keep their faith fresh.

A Little History of Christianity in Japan

Christianity reached Japan in 1549, when the Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier stepped ashore on southern Kyushu. Getting permission from the local daimyo, feudal lord, he began to preach. The new religion spread rapidly through Kyushu, accelerated by the conversion of several daimyo, most notably Omura Sumitada of the Omura domain (in present-day Nagasaki), Otomo Sōrin of Bungo (present-day Oita), and Arima Harunobu of the Shimabara domain (also in Nagasaki). Their embrace of Christianity gave the religion a measure of protection and prestige, but their zealousness and eagerness to please the missionaries resulted in the destruction of Buddhist temples and Shinto shrines in their domains, as well as the forced conversion of their subjects. 

Nevertheless, sincere Christian communities sprang up throughout Kyushu, centered in Nagasaki. Under Jesuit influence, the port developed into both a haven for believers and a thriving hub of Portuguese trade.

The Jesuits were followed by Spanish Franciscans, who also proved successful.. By the late 1500s, an estimated 300,000 Japanese had converted to Christianity, out of a nationwide population of roughly 15-22 million. In 2024, by contrast, about 1.2 million Japanese reported being Christian, less than 1% of a population of 123.8 million.

The climate of tolerance did not last. Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s 1587 Bateren Edict expelled missionaries, and a decade later, the crucifixion of 26 Christians in Nagasaki set a grim precedent. The Tokugawa shogunate outright banned Christianity in 1614. By the 1620s, missionaries had been expelled, and believers faced torture, execution, or forced apostasy.

The 1637–1638 Shimabara Rebellion of mostly Christian peasants, desperate from heavy taxation and famine, culminated in the expulsion of all the Portuguese and Spanish, as well as the 1641 confinement of the Dutch to Dejima, severing any possible Christian ties to the outside world. Christianity became punishable by death, with believers either killed or driven underground. Many became Kakure Kirishitan, Hidden Christians.

Life in Hiding (1640s–1850s)

The Hidden Christians developed ingenious ways to preserve their religion, adapting symbols and rituals to blend into Buddhist practice. Statues of the Virgin Mary were disguised as Kannon, the Buddhist bodhisattva of mercy, and crosses and rosaries were hidden inside Buddhist icons.

Central to the continuation of their faith were prayers called orasho, in a mix of Latin and 16th-century Portuguese and Japanese, chanted in rhythms resembling Buddhist liturgy. Passed down from generation to generation, reciting the orasho eventually became more of a ritual in itself rather than fully understood words.

Remote islands such as Goto and Ikitsuki became Christian refuges. There, believers organized into kumi, groups of ten to twenty families that doubled as fishing cooperatives and covert congregations. Under the guise of maritime customs, they disguised baptisms as blessings for new boats and orasho as chants for good fortune at sea. Crosses were hidden in nets and gear, while stones arranged into a cross on ancestors’ graves offered a secret moment of prayer before being scattered.

With few priests, lay leaders took on spiritual roles. The mizukata performed baptisms, and the chokata kept the calendar of holy days, ensuring the community continued its liturgical traditions. The most important was Otaiya, a Christmas mass held on December 23. The bread and wine of the Eucharist were replaced with rice, dried fish, and sake. The officiant placed a bit of the sanctified fish and rice on his upturned palms before eating, reflecting the Catholic sacrament.

Yet even with such careful adaptations and secrecy, persecution never ceased. Under the Tokugawa-mandated terauke seido system, every household was required to register with a Buddhist temple, and annual fumi-e tests forced suspected Christians to trample images of Christ or the Virgin Mary. Refusal meant torture and execution.

Still, hidden enclaves endured. By the 1790s, the rugged coastline of Sotome and the isolated Goto Islands are said to have sheltered as many as 3,000 Hidden Christians, who lived as farmers and fishermen while gathering in caves or homes to pray.

Rediscovery in the Meiji Era (1868-1912)

In 1863, French priest Bernard Petitjean of the Paris Foreign Missions Society arrived in Nagasaki and oversaw the construction of Oura Cathedral, which was completed the following year for foreign residents.

On March 17, 1865, Petitjean was astonished when 15 timid visitors from nearby Urakami quietly entered his church. They asked to see the statue of the Virgin Mary and to be assured of his ties to the Pope, explaining that they had preserved the sacraments and liturgy in secret for 250 years. Petitjean’s report to Rome stunned the Christian world, and Pope Pius IX hailed the moment as the “Miracle of the Orient.”

This “Discovery of the Hidden Christians” encouraged secret believers in Nagasaki, Sotome, and the Goto Islands to reveal themselves, though some paid a heavy price. On Hisaka Island, newly emboldened Christians openly declared their faith, only to face arrest in what became known as the Goto Kuzure, the Goto Collapse. About 200 Christians were imprisoned in a 20-square-meter cell (215 square feet), where 43 of the weakest, mostly children and the elderly, perished. When Father Petitjean learned of their confinement, he publicized their plight, which led to international calls for Japan to end the persecution.

Legacy of Resilience

True freedom for Christians came in 1873, when the Meiji government, under foreign pressure, lifted the ban on Christianity. Roughly 30,000 Hidden Christians emerged, many rejoining the Catholic Church. Others, particularly in the Goto Islands and on Ikitsuki, chose to continue the syncretic traditions of their ancestors. These communities hold the few Hidden Christians who survive today.

Through their generations, the prayers and rituals of the Hidden Christians evolved into customs unlike any other Christians in the world. No longer Japanese, Portuguese, or Latin, their prayers have been passed down written in the phonetic syllabary of katakana, their meaning all but lost. Even so, the faith carried on through the heartfelt sincerity of the believers.

The Hidden Christians’ survival across two and a half centuries of persecution, from Nagasaki’s hillsides to Goto’s remote caves, is nothing short of extraordinary. Yet in recent decades, as younger generations leave rural villages for the cities, few remain to carry on the traditions. The faith that once survived in secrecy under harsh persecution is now quietly disappearing.

Those Hidden Christians who rejoined the Catholics went on to build churches, such as Sakitsu Church in Amakusa in 1888, and Egami Church in Goto in 1918. In 2018, these and other related locations were recognized collectively as UNESCO World Heritage: Hidden Christian Sites in the Nagasaki Region.

The post Japan’s Hidden Christians first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Treasure ships that brought goods, wealth, and culture

When I visited the port of Shukunegi on Sado Island a couple of years ago, I spent time at a disused elementary school that had been repurposed as a folk museum. I was fascinated by the relics that filled the old classrooms from floor to ceiling and the plentiful information about a lucrative trade route that flourished in the 18th and 19th centuries.

That trade had been quite a bit more than a difficult get-rich-quick enterprise. It changed history.

Kitamaebune Trade

From the mid-Edo Period until the 1880s, Kitamaebune ships were both conduits for trade and, as a consequence, widespread cultural interchange. These sturdy wooden vessels, with their distinctive square sails, were not just cargo vessels — they were floating trading houses.

The shipmasters would buy and sell goods at ports along their extensive voyages, which spanned from remote Hokkaido, along the coastal regions of western Honshu, and around Shimonoseki to the bustling city of Osaka. This trade route, as well as the ships themselves, became known as Kitamaebune.

“Kitamae” was the word used by people in Osaka and the Inland Sea area for the “Sea of Japan side” of Honshu. Thus, ships arriving from the Sea of Japan were referred to as Kitamaebune, or “Sea of Japan ships.” On the Japan Sea coast, they were generally known as Sengoku-bune, although some referred to them as “Bai-bune” or “Double ships,” reflecting the potential for shipowners to double their profits in a single journey.

Such profits were made possible because of the lack of rapid communication. Before the advent of telegraphs, savvy merchants realized that they could capitalize on regional price variations to earn substantial profits. By buying goods at lower prices in one area and selling them at higher prices in another, they took advantage of price differentials to maximize their earnings.

The origin of the Kitamae sea route can be traced to Maeda Toshitsune, the third lord of the Kaga Domain, now Ishikawa Prefecture. At that time, Osaka served as the economic center and a major trading hub, and each domain had a warehouse in the area. To transport rice from Maeda’s domain to Osaka, the Kaga clan had previously unloaded the cargo at the port of Tsuruga and transported it overland and via Lake Biwa to Otsu, Kyoto, and Osaka. However, this process was laborious and inefficient.

In the early 1600s, Toshitsune decided to ship 15,000 kilos of rice from the Sea of Japan southward around Shimonoseki through the Seto Inland Sea to Osaka. In 1672, this route became official when the Tokugawa shogun ordered Edo merchant Kawamura Zuiken to chart the Sea of Japan passage connecting Hokkaido and Osaka, and the Kitamaebune route was born.

The Ships

The early Kitamaebune were small, single-sail, oared vessels that could carry up to 75,000 kilos of cargo. Due to the limitations of their design and the challenging conditions of the sea, they could only complete one round trip between northern Japan and Osaka per year, from spring to autumn. In winter, when the sea was rough, the ship would be moored near the harbor and the sailors would return home on foot. With the arrival of spring, they would reunite at the harbor and prepare to set sail.

By the beginning of the 18th century, the first 24-meter-long Sengokubune were built. Sengokubune means “1,000 koku ships.” In traditional Japanese measurement, one koku equals 150 kilos. 150 kilos of rice was considered the amount needed to feed one man for a year. Taxes were calculated in terms of koku, samurai received their wages in koku, and the wealth of daimyo lords was measured by the number of koku of rice their domains produced. Thus, a Sengokubune, 1,000 koku ship, could carry an impressive 150 tons of cargo.

These new vessels boasted solid hulls, sharp bows designed to cut through the waves, and large, single-piece square sails. With these advancements, Sengokubune could complete the journey between Hokkaido and Osaka in just 12 to 13 days, marking a vast improvement in efficiency and transportation speed. Because they could sail without the need for oarsmen, these large robust vessels could be operated by a crew of just a dozen people.

Upon arrival at a port, the shipmasters had to provide a document detailing the purpose of their voyage, the number of crew members, and proof that no Christians were on board. This paper, along with inventory lists, receipts, and other essential documents were kept in specially designed waterproof chests that would float in the event of a shipwreck.

And shipwrecks were not uncommon. Before setting out, sailors would visit Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples to pray for safety. Pictures of ships offered as votive tablets, called ema, can still be seen in shrines and temples along the Kitamaebune route. These were offered both as prayers for safekeeping and as tokens of thanksgiving. In some cases, shipwreck survivors even cut off their hair and attached it to ema tablets in gratitude to the gods.

The Cargo

The Kitamae route encompassed over 100 ports along the Sea of Japan, primarily in the Hokuriku region. These served as home ports where shipowners resided, and from there, the ships sailed to Osaka. After loading necessities such as sugar and sake in Osaka, the ships started on their journeys to Hokkaido, stopping at ports along the way to stock up on items to sell. 

The shipmasters purchased specialty items from each area. In the ports along the Seto Sea, they bought salt from the numerous salt farms that dotted the coast. From Shimane, they bought iron. In Fukui, paper and knives. To ensure stability, granite slabs were used as ballast, and on top of that, the hulls were filled with an eclectic mix of goods including vinegar, tobacco, candles, pottery, cotton, textiles, indigo, dolls, and sweets. 

Upon reaching each port, the shipmasters would sell whatever goods they had in store that would make a handsome profit. Continuing their journeys further north along the Honshu coast, they would replenish their cargo. From the Hokuriku ports, they bought buckwheat, medicine, and especially rice and straw products to sell in Hokkaido where it was too cold for rice to grow.

From Hokkaido, the Kitamaebune mainly carried marine products to Osaka and ports along the way. This included valuable commodities like kombu kelp, herring, dried sardines, dried sea cucumber, salmon, and cod. The ships would set out in August, stopping at ports to sell and pick up more goods. Aside from their main cargo of rice, other items included sand iron, kozo mulberry stalks (the raw ingredient of Japanese paper), pots, agricultural equipment, salt, and copper Buddhist implements, incense burners, and vases — and safflower, a popular item in Kyoto where it was used to make lipstick and dye.

The abundant herring from the Hokkaido seas served for decades as an important source of fuel and fertilizer. The fish were processed to extract the oil, and the remains were fermented. This nutrition-rich mash was used as fertilizer for the rapidly developing cotton industry in domains along the Seto Inland Sea. Its sales brought in five to ten times its purchase price.

The profits from a single Kitamaebune voyage could amount to 60-100 million yen in today’s currency (US $450,000-$706,000). Some shipowners amassed fleets of as many as 200 large and small ships, making some families billionaires. The Honma’s of Sakata, in present-day Yamagata Prefecture, were one such family who, through scrupulous trade, grew from lowly merchants to become the largest landowners in Japan. Their wealth surpassed that of feudal lords.

An expression of the day was, 本間さまには及びもないが、せめてなりたや殿様に, Honma-sama ni ha oyobi monai ga, semete naritaya tono-sama ni. “Becoming a Honma is too far out of reach, but let me become a lord, at least!” This phrase encapsulated the ambitions of the merchant class, whose dreams of financial success focused on the Kitamaebune trade.

The Sailors

The allure of working on these treasure ships attracted many young men, but the job had its difficulties. Sailors faced demanding work, braving the perils of shipwrecks and enduring six-hour shifts through the night. Their salaries were low, around ¥200,000 to ¥300,000 per year in today’s terms (US $1,500-2,000), yet people still clamored to work on these ships because the job also had its perks.

Shipwrights were allowed to load and sell private goods, keeping the profits for themselves. Other crew members received a bonus known as kiridashi, which amounted to 5 to 10% of the ship’s sales. It’s easy to imagine how this incentivized the crew to handle the cargo with care. On a Kitamaebune carrying 15 tons of goods, a sailor’s bonus could reach a remarkable 10 million yen in today’s value (US $70,500). It’s no wonder that these jobs were popular.

A prerequisite for employment was that prospective crew members had to be from the same village as the shipowner, or else they had to provide a guarantor. Given the substantial profits at stake, having a trustworthy and capable crew was paramount. Hiring crew from the same region engendered trust, fostered camaraderie, and strengthened bonds.

Individuals could start their career on a Kitamaebune as an apprentice ship’s cook at the age of 14 or 15 and gradually progress to become a mariner. Although it took around 30 years to advance through the ranks, the hope was that eventually, a sailor could save enough money to buy his own ship and become a millionaire. 

Cultural Impacts

The far-reaching impact of the Kitamaebune trade cannot be understated. The numerous ports along the route served as centers of shipbuilding and trade, giving rise to unique local cultures and industries. As the ships traveled, they transported not only goods, but also ideas, customs, and knowledge, contributing to the exchange and spread of cultural influences.

One noteworthy area is pottery and ceramics. The Kitamaebune trade introduced distant pottery styles from Arita and Seto to ports along the Sea of Japan coast. This allowed the people in those regions to incorporate these styles into their evolving pottery tradition.

Food culture also experienced significant transformations through the Kitamaebune trade. The introduction of kombu kelp from Hokkaido led to a thriving industry of kombu-based products in the Kansai region, such as kombu-maki rolls and umami-rich dashi broth. The popularity of kombu dashi spread throughout the country, and today it is an essential ingredient in Japanese cuisine. 

The trade also facilitated the dissemination of wagashi, exquisite Japanese sweets that originated in Kyoto to accompany bitter green tea. These artistic confections added a touch of class and sophistication to the shops that served them in the northern regions.

A lesser-known Kyoto specialty called imobo, or “potato stick,” owes its origin to the Kitamaebune. This curious dish, which is not actually made from potatoes, was created using affordable dried cod from Hokkaido and a local variety of taro root. In an attempt to imitate the new, exotic, and expensive Satsuma sweet potatoes, the fish and taro were cooked together for days until they blended, resulting in a texture and look somewhat resembling boiled sweet potato sticks.

Architectural influences also spread through the Kitamaebune trade. Construction techniques that were prevalent in Kyoto were transmitted to the northwest coast of Honshu, leaving a lasting imprint on the region.

Construction materials, such as a valuable stone called shakudani-ishi, were carried on the Kitamaebune ships. This light blue volcanic tuff, mined in Fukui Prefecture, was sought after for crafting Buddhist statuary and building shrine foundations. Even the granite stones that served as ballast were repurposed for building bridges and roads. 

Music traveled with the sailors on the Kitamaebune, resulting in the transformation and adaptation of folk songs along the route. The Kyushu song “Haya-bushi” journeyed north and evolved into local folksongs still sung in Niigata and Aomori prefectures. Similarly, a popular song originating from Sakata port near Osaka made its way to Niigata, where the lyrics were adapted to depict the people and experiences associated with the Kitamaebune ships.

The port towns along the Kitamaebune route bustled with restaurants, inns, and teahouses catering to the boatmen. Diverse populations were drawn by the lure of the trade and the prosperity it brought, from geisha to master carpenters. Boatmen became known not only for their navigation and trade expertise but also for their refined appreciation of poetry and the arts. As they returned to their respective regions from the Osaka-Kyoto area,they brought back some of the sophistication and vibrant culture they had experienced.

Fashion was another area influenced by the trading ships. During the Edo Period, cotton cultivation began in the Kansai area, but the northwestern coast of Honshu was too cold for it to grow. To acquire this coveted and versatile fabric, people in those regions purchased discarded cotton garments from Osaka, transported via the Kitamaebune ships. They recycled the cloth using a method called sakiori — tearing the cloth into strips and reweaving it with thread. This technique created a uniquely textured material. Sakiori eventually gave rise to sashiko, a renowned form of Japanese embroidery.

The Kitamaebune boatmen were easily recognizable by their distinctive attire: garments of sakiori cotton, a rope in place of an obi belt, and a portable brush and ink case attached at the waist. Their clothing was not only practical, but it revealed their identity and role in the trade.

The End of an Era

As the Meiji Period (1868-1912) unfolded, technological advancements such as railroads, steamships, and telegraph communication brought about the gradual decline of the Kitamaebune trade. The rapid dissemination of commodity prices throughout the country reduced the shipowners’ ability to capitalize on price variations, impacting their profits. The majestic Kitamaebune sailing vessels were soon replaced by more efficient steamships, and the era of these iconic ships gradually faded.

Furthermore, in 1885, a government regulation banned the construction of Japanese-style ships exceeding 500 koku. This dealt a severe blow to the shipbuilding industry along the Kitamaebune route, forcing many businesses to shut down. Some shipbuilders chose to emigrate to Hokkaido, a newly opened frontier, where they could utilize their skills in the development of the burgeoning territory.

The legacy of the Kitamaebune trade, however, endures in the economic and cultural aspects of the regions along its route. Its influence can be seen in the local traditions, culinary practices, and architectural styles that were shaped by this dynamic era of maritime commerce.

One can only imagine the anticipation felt by the locals eagerly watching the horizon for the white sails of these treasure ships. The arrival of each surely brought with it a wave of excitement and wonder, as the communities knew that within their hulls lay a wealth of goods from distant lands. The joy of being connected to worlds they could only dream of must have been an extraordinary experience for the people along the Kitamaebune route.

The post Kitamaebune— The Trade that Made Shrewd Shipowners into Millionaires first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

A tragic woman and her cat, now Shinto deities

Down a narrow road beside the Naka River in rural Tokushima Prefecture, a two-meter-tall Maneki Neko cat statue beckons all passersby to visit the Omatsu Daigongen Shrine, お松大権現.

I was one of those beckoned.

I followed cat footprints up the steps through the torii entrance gate and was overwhelmed by the sheer number of cat statues.

Cats were everywhere. Instead of traditional komainu lion-dogs guarding the shrine, there were cats. Instead of shachihoko fish-tigers guarding the roof against fire, there were cats.

Why all the cats?

To answer that question, we turn to a story that takes place during the iron rule of the Tokugawa shoguns during the Edo era (1603-1867).

The tragic tale of Omatsu

In the late 17th century, the village of Kamo in what is now Tokushima Prefecture was struggling. Years of bad harvests had taken their toll on the people, and their tax burden had become unbearable.

The village headman, a kind-hearted man named Sobee, wanted to help his people. He borrowed money from a wealthy neighbor, Nogami. As collateral, Nogami was granted use of several of Sobee’s rice paddies.

All seemed well. The money helped the struggling villagers, and Sobee was recouping what he needed to repay his debt.

As the agreed-upon date to repay the loan drew near, Sobee noticed Nogami along the road by his fields. He grabbed the cash and brought it out to Nogami, who assured him he would send him a receipt when he got home.

Unfortunately, within days, Sobee fell ill and passed away. His lovely wife, Omatsu, was left to tend the fields alone.

Omatsu visited Nogami and asked him for a certificate of repayment for the loan. Nogami insisted Sobee had not paid. Omatsu knew her husband had, and she repeatedly asked Nogami for the receipt.

Nogami, angered by her persistence, shouted that he had never received the money. He sent his men to collect on the collateral by taking Omatsu’s remaining rice fields.

Now desperate, Omatsu appealed to the local magistrate. He agreed to help her — that is, as long as she would be his lover.

Omatsu had no idea that the magistrate was receiving money on the sly from Nogami. When she turned down his advances, he dismissed her, refusing to honor her claim.

Desperation

Then Omatsu did something very few in the Edo era dared do. She risked her life to appeal to higher authority.

On a cold winter day in 1686, Tsunanori, the lord of Awa Domain, was passing through Omatsu’s town. His procession of samurai vassals was long and intimidating. In the center was Tsunanori’s palanquin.

Omatsu held in her hand a petition. Suddenly, the vassals saw what seemed to be a white shadow break through their ranks near the palanquin. Confusion broke out with yells and cries. Samurai unsheathed their swords.

Then a quiet voice stilled them, “Stop.”

It was the voice of Tsunanori as he peeked out of his palanquin. He saw the lovely Omatsu, dressed all in white, bowed to the ground in humility.

Tsunanori allowed Omatsu to approach. She handed him the letter she had written, her heartfelt, desperate appeal for truth and justice. The daimyo gazed upon her face, pitiful, yet full of such mysterious beauty that he couldn’t help but lose his breath.

When he regained his composure, Tsunanori read her appeal.

He announced, “I will consider this,” and Omatsu’s beautiful eyes filled with tears.

The procession continued on. Omatsu’s appeal had taken but an instant.

The Tokugawa shogunate maintained absolute control. Nearly all crimes were punishable by death. One such capital offense was appealing directly to any daimyo or the shogun.

No matter how worthy the cause, simply appealing to a daimyo was punishable by death.

Thus, Omatsu was taken to the jail behind Tokushima castle to await her execution.

The execution was to be carried out three months hence. Forlorn and alone, the lovely Omatsu had only her beloved cat to comfort her. The sympathetic cat never left her side, patiently listening to her troubles and tears. Only this calico cat knew the true depth of the tragedy that befell her beloved Omatsu.

On the day appointed, Omatsu was taken to a dry riverbed. She was dressed in white, her long hair hanging free. A sudden breeze blew Omatsu’s robes and lifted her hair, causing it to reflect like an eerie halo in the evening light. The men preparing her execution cried, “She is a Bodhisattva!” How could they dare to kill such a one?

But if they did not do their job, they themselves would be killed.

As the executioner raised his sword, all present joined the weeping Omatsu in praying to Amida Nyorai for salvation, Namu Amida Butsu, “I take refuge in Amida Buddha.” From their hiding places in the woods, villagers joined in, bidding a sad farewell to the tragic Omatsu.

In mercy, the executioner’s sword also fell upon the neck of Omatsu’s calico cat, allowing her to remain together with her beloved owner in the afterlife.

Soon, the villagers began to quietly honor Omatsu as a deity for those seeking justice. They told the story of her courage to their children and grandchildren, keeping her memory alive yet secret from the authorities who would punish them for honoring one who was a criminal in their eyes.

The vengeful cat

Not long after Omatsu’s execution, in the pitch black of night, the corrupt magistrate who had refused Omatsu was awakened by what sounded like a cat. Looking all around, he saw nothing and heard only the faint sound of running water. Yet he was sure he had heard the scream of an angry cat.

Then, another cry reached his ears. This one seemed to be a woman’s voice. He turned to see what he thought was a maidservant lighting a lantern. When the light fell upon her face, he saw it was that of a terrible cat.

He ran to fetch his guards, but when they inspected his room, only a lantern quietly burned.

That fateful night marked the end of the magistrate. He soon lost his job, fell ill, and died.

Next, the ghostly cat sought out Nogami, and mysterious deaths followed. His family line was soon extinguished.

The locals saw these deaths as the result of a curse put on those men by Omatsu and her feline friend. To appease the kaibyō, 怪猫, “monster cat,” they built a shrine to honor Omatsu and her loyal companion.

Omatsu was deified as the god of victorious triumph and her cat, her avenger. The Omatsu Daigongen shrine became a mecca for those praying for the tenacity to triumph, be it in business, competitions, or in passing entrance examinations.

A custom developed where people who visited the shrine to pray for success would bring a cat statue back home with them. When their prayer was answered, they returned the cat and donated another.

After decades of this, there are more than 10,000 cat statues on the grounds of the Omatsu Daigongen Shrine. There are fanciful statues of Buddhist deities merged into cat bodies, beckoning Maneki Neko statues, and several traditional Buddhist statues.

Sasuri Neko for healing

In front of the main shrine building is a special cat statue called the Sasuri Neko. Visitors with ailments rub the cat’s body to receive healing. For sore knees, they rub the cat’s tiny knees. For headaches, the cat’s head.

Beside the shrine, a trail leads through another torii gate, between ancient, sacred inumaki yew plum pine trees, past a small pool and waterfall, and further up stone steps. All around this path and the entire shrine grounds are mind-boggling numbers of cat statues. A separate building dedicated solely to Maneki Neko statues is filled with thousands of beckoning cats.

After about 50 minutes of wandering through this wonderland, I was ready to continue my hike along the Henro, the 88 Temple Pilgrimage of Shikoku.

No matter how you feel about cats, I’m sure you will agree that this is an extraordinary place. If you ever visit Tokushima, please allow yourself to be beckoned into the shrine of Omasu and her beloved Neko Kami-San, 猫神さん, Cat God.

References:

Japanese Lucky Charms, Omatsu Daigongen Shrine

The post Omatsu Daigongen—The Amazing Cat Temple of Shikoku first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

For more than 300 years, belief in Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism was punishable by death

Kakure Nenbutsu

For many years, believers in Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism, the True Pure Land sect, quietly climbed into the deep recesses of remote mountains to pray in hidden caves where their images and other ritual items were safely stored. If caught, these believers faced torture and death. They were known as Kakure Nenbutsu, 隠れ念仏, Hidden Buddhists.

Kakure Nenbutsu refers to the believers themselves, their associations, and the action of hiding their beliefs from the authorities.

History of the Kakure Nenbutsu

Jōdo Shinshū Buddhism was founded in the 13th century by, Shinran, who had been trained at the Tendai Buddhist stronghold on Mount Hiei, northeast of Kyoto. He later broke with Tendai and started his own sect based on the understanding that all people, regardless of position or status, were equal in the eyes of Amida Nyorai. All people were equally worthy of salvation.

All living beings are equally precious before Amida Nyorai.

Jōdo Shinshū TENANT

In the 15th century, the priest Rennyo codified the beliefs of Jōdo Shinshū and his writings were disseminated throughout the country. They were eagerly received by downtrodden peasants, merchants, and even some local lords. As believers grew in numbers, a radicalized and powerful group called the Ikko-Ikki developed.

Ikko-Ikki groups of farmers, local samurai, and monks fought to overthrow their daimyos, or feudal lords. Ikko-Ikki uprisings occurred throughout the country, and in 1488, more than a hundred thousand Ikko-Ikki rose in revolt, took over the Kaga domain, and set up their own Peasants Kingdom.

Daimyo across the country took note.

Down in southern Kyushu, the influential lord of Satsuma (Kagoshima), Shimadzu Tadayoshi, was devout to both Zen Buddhism and Confucianism. He penned the Iroha Uta, 47 short poems that conveyed the principles of Confucianism and were the bedrock of Samurai schooling in his domain.

Tadayoshi despised the zealous Jōdo Shinshū and their violent Ikko-Ikki fanatics. He felt nothing but disdain for their disregard for loyalty to their lords, a crucial Confucian principle.

Following the lead of other notable daimyos, in 1597, Tadayoshi’s grandson, the 17th Lord of Satsuma, Shimadzu Yoshihiro, officially outlawed Jōdo Shinshū in his domain.

Edo-era oppression

During the Edo era (1603-1867), every person was required to register at their local Buddhist temple. This served the dual purpose of keeping track of everyone and also ensuring that there were no Christians among the populace. Anyone suspected of being a Christian was ordered to tread upon an image of Mother Mary or Jesus. If they would not do that, they were killed, often very cruelly.

In Satsuma, the Shimadzu lords determined to not only root out any hidden Christians, but also any believers in the Jōdo Shinshū sect of Buddhism. Every five years, local samurai visited each household to inspect their required “Proof of Religion” tablet, 宗門手札, shūmon tefuda, and to take a census count.

Additionally, groups of five families were organized to keep watch on each other and report any suspicions as to Kakure Nenbutsu or Christians. If their group was known to harbor these outlaws, all would be brutally punished.

Kakure Nenbutsu and Christians alike risked the worst form of punishment, reserved exclusively for them and those who murdered their lords. This was called Ishi-daki, 石抱き, “hugging stone.”

For this brutal form of punishment, the prisoner would be forced to sit seiza, kneeling sitting on one’s feet, upon triangular wedges of wood. Nine centimeter thick planks of stone, 90 centimeters long, 30 centimeters wide, and weighing up to 45 kilos, were placed on the prisoner’s legs one after another. Care was taken to prolong the agony and to take time to show each stone to the prisoner before placing it on his lap. To prevent him from moving, his back and neck were secured to a pole. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the prisoner was also whipped.

Believers in both Christianity and Jōdo Shinshū knew that they risked such torture.

Many Jōdo Shinshū believers secretly fled to the neighboring domain of Obi (southern Miyazaki) where their faith was tolerated. The fleeing peasants were so numerous that the Obi government set up a special magistrate to look after them.

In 1835, the oppression in Satsuma reached its peak when 2,000 Buddhist objects of worship were destroyed and 14,000 Kakure Nenbutsu suffered martyrdom.

This persecution drove believers even deeper into the mountains, into caverns, and aboard ships where they continued their faith. They hid their objects of worship inside wooden pot lids and cutting boards, まな板仏, manaita-butsu; their hanging scrolls inside false umbrellas, 傘仏, kasa-butsu; and their altars inside innocuous wooden boxes.

In the mountains of Hanao, in rural Kagoshima, up a 250-meter climb, one finds a small opening to a cave just 12 square meters in area. Within this low cave, in centuries past, local Kakure Nenbutsu hid their altars and images and, in groups of two or three, went to pray.

Religious freedom at last

Finally, in 1876, the recently established prefectural government of Kagoshima announced “The Freedom of Religion Order,” and the Kakure Nenbutsu and hidden Christians were once again allowed to worship openly.

There are still traces of these hidden Buddhists today. The cave in Hanao is the most accessible, but there are others.

References:

(All are Japanese) kotobank, Nishi Honganji Kagoshima Branch website, Izumi City homepage, signs, etc.

The post Kakure Nenbutsu—The Little-Known Hidden Buddhists of Southern Kyushu first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

White Elephant of the 4th Imperial Rank

During the Edo era (1603-1867), Japan effectively closed its doors to the outside world. The Tokugawa shoguns had had enough of subversive European influences, such as Christianity, firearms, and suspicious Portuguese and Spanish traders. The third shogun, Iemitsu, slammed the door to all, except very limited, trade.

The Dutch were the only Westerners allowed access to Japan, and that through the highly controlled island port of Dejima in Nagasaki, on the southern island of Kyushu. 

The few other windows to the outside world were also tightly controlled: Satsuma, in the south, traded with the Kingdom of Ryukyu (modern-day Okinawa), and through them, surreptitiously with the Qing Chinese; the island of Tsushima traded with Korea; and Matsumae, in northern Honshu, traded with the Ainu—the indigenous people of Hokkaido and northeast Honshu; and by the late 17th century, the Qing Chinese were allowed to trade through their Chinese quarter in Nagasaki.

Yet, as the decades of self-imposed isolation passed, a desire and curiosity for things outside their world grew. In 1720, Shogun Tokugawa Yoshimune relaxed the prohibition on the import and translation of foreign books—except, of course, any Christian books.

His curiosity for the outside world piqued, Yoshimune made an unusual request.

He wanted elephants.

Shiro, the Asian elephant

A Qing Chinese merchant in Nagasaki arranged for two elephants to be shipped from Vietnam. A 7-year-old male Asian elephant, whom we shall call Shiro, and his intended mate, a 5-year-old female, along with their mahouts and two translators, spent 27 long days crowded into a specially built Chinese Junk traversing the South China Sea to Japan.

On June 7, 1728, the party came ashore at the port of Nagasaki. The elephants were paraded through the streets of Nagasaki, as shocked onlookers bustled and gasped at the wondrous sight of the magnificent beasts led by their “exotic” Vietnamese mahouts.

The elephants settled into a large stable that had been constructed for them and spent the summer recuperating from their voyage. The different climate and diet—particularly the excessive intake of Japanese sweets fed to her by her well-meaning, yet ignorant, hosts—did not bode well for the female. Just three months after arriving, she died.

The male elephant, Shiro, spent a lonely and cold winter in Nagasaki.

The long road to Edo

On March 13, 1729, Shiro set off on his 1,480 km trek to Edo, now Tokyo.

To make the elephant more comfortable during his long journey, the chief of shogunate finances, Inō Masatake, sent out various decrees. 

When the elephant passes, no one is to make loud noises, no temple bells are to be rung, and horses and cattle are forbidden from the streets. Small stones must be swept from the roads and sturdy boats for river crossing prepared. Large stables are to be constructed in the post towns through which the party will pass.

Sufficient feed is to be stored at regular intervals. At each overnight stop, the following food is to be prepared: 60 kg of straw, 90 kg of sasa bamboo leaves, 60 kg of grass, and 50 manju — steamed wheat buns filled with sweet bean paste.

On March 25, our intrepid pachyderm was ferried across the Kanmon Strait and set foot on the main island of Honshu.

Meanwhile, notifications had been sent from the Nagasaki magistrate to the various domains along Shiro’s route, informing them that they must guide the party to the shallowest places to ford rivers, and warning them that they may need to provide lodging at private residences if the beast could not make it to the next post town by dusk. These, and many other instructions, were sent to the domain leaders, who in turn passed them on to the next domain along the route, and on it went.

Elephants are not used to walking on cobblestones such as those paving the Edo-era roads of Japan. Despite the precautions of clearing the road of small stones, Shiro ran into trouble one week after reaching Honshu. He injured his leg and was in obvious pain as he limped along. A stable was quickly built for him where he was allowed to rest and recover.

While at this makeshift stable, he was visited by powerful and famous lords. Mōri of Tokuyama, Asano of Hiroshima, and Ikeda and his mother from Fukuyama. 

Recovery made, Shiro resumed his slow journey, reaching Osaka by April 20. After 3 nights’ rest, he set out for the imperial city of Kyoto.

White Elephant of the Fourth Imperial Rank

The street leading into the emperor’s city had been cleared two hours before Shiro’s passing, so throngs took to nearby fields and hills in hopes of catching a glimpse of this extraordinary sight.

In Kyoto, Shiro was housed at the Shōjyōkei-in temple not far from the Imperial Palace.

Just like everyone else, Emperor Nakamikado was eager to see him, but it would not be seemly for the son of heaven to visit a mere elephant. With no precedent, what could the emperor do? Only those of the highest aristocratic rank were allowed into the emperor’s presence. 

To solve this problem, the emperor bestowed upon Shiro the rank of fourth imperial rank, the same aristocratic level as the keeper of the imperial archives or the lieutenant-general of the imperial guards. This was no small honor!

With this impressive court rank, Shiro was granted permission to pass through the palace gates to meet the emperor.

A stage was built within the palace grounds for the elephant’s audience. When Emperor Nakamikado and his highest-ranking ministers and lords were gathered, our elephant made his appearance.

At 10 am, Shiro came before the stage, bent his front leg, and knelt, bowing his head respectfully before the 27-year-old emperor. The distinguished crowd gasped in awe and wonder.

At 11 am, he was led to the residence of Nakamikado’s father, the retired Emperor Reigen. There, to the astonishment of the assembled dignitaries, Shiro again bowed low, dipping his head nearly to the ground in respect to the elderly emperor.

Emperor Nakamikado was so moved that he wrote the following poem.

At this time

In the world of men

To meet such a beast

In the palace

Fills me with delight

Emperor Nakamikado

The teenage Itō Jyakuchū, 伊藤若冲, a merchant’s son who grew to become well-known for his colorful and realistic paintings of birds, must have been among the crowds who saw Shiro in Kyoto, as his delightful depictions of elephants betray.

The journey continues

On April 29, Shiro and his party headed east to Edo along the Tokaido, one of the two main roads connecting Kyoto with Edo. Passing through Nagoya, he stopped at the castle for an audience with the Lord of the Owari domain, Tokugawa Tsugutomo, and his vassals.

Making their way further east along the Tokaido, Shiro and his party were stopped by the furiously flowing Ōigawa River in Shizuoka. The current was too strong to allow for fording.

Excited local peasants gathered and made a human dam in several rows, shoulder to shoulder, legs spread, and stood in the river upstream. The improvised dam of their bodies broke the strong current. Shiro crossed in safety.

The Fuji River presented the next big obstacle.

This time, 1,900 men worked to create a pontoon bridge. Boats were anchored to posts drilled into the riverbed, then tied together spanning the width of the river. Boards were placed across the boats, creating a makeshift bridge for Shiro to cross.

New challenges arose as they crossed the mountain pass to Hakone. Midway up the slope, Shiro suddenly stopped. Four men gave it their best effort, but no matter how hard they pushed him, he wouldn’t budge. 

When a great bubble emerged from his mouth, his caregivers realized Shiro must be ill. They gave him a tonic and allowed him to rest. After time to recover, Shiro walked slowly and unsteadily over and down the pass to Hakone.

He stayed there for four days recuperating before taking to the road again. The grueling journey was wearing on him. He crossed more hastily built pontoon bridges. Nearing total exhaustion, he reached Edo on May 25, 1729. 

Shiro’s new home in Edo

The townspeople had been warned not to touch him or toss sweets to him. Nevertheless, the Edo people gave him a wildly enthusiastic welcome, being well prepared for his arrival by the woodblock prints, newspapers, and pamphlets that had been circulating in Edo covering the elephant’s journey.

After being paraded through the city, Shiro was brought to the shogun’s falconry grounds, at what is now the Hama Rikyu Gardens, next to the Imperial Palace. 

May 27, Shiro was taken to Edo castle, entering through the Sakurada-mon gate, where he met face-to-face with shogun Tokugawa Yoshimune.

His Vietnamese mahout taught others how to care for Shiro, and the elephant adapted to life on the Hama palace grounds, where Yoshimune took a deep interest in him, visiting him frequently, and even feeding him himself.

As the years passed, the financial strain of Shiro’s upkeep wore on the shogunate. When Shiro trampled and killed one of his keepers, it was decided that he should be sold.

The shogun provided for a stable to be built for Shiro and paid for three years of upkeep, and he was taken to live beside the Jyogan-ji temple in what is now Nakano-ku, Tokyo.

People flocked to see Shiro and to buy elephant-themed merchandise. But like all fads, before long, Shiro’s visitors declined, leaving his new owners struggling. Although doing their best to care for him, Shiro suddenly fell ill. He died on Jan 8, 1743.

Tokugawa Yoshimune ordered that Shiro’s hide and trunk be sent to Kobaien, 古梅園, a maker of sumi ink in Nara. (Sumi ink has been used for centuries for writing, calligraphy, and painting in Japan. It is made from soot and glue derived from animals.) It is said that the hide from his trunk remains there to this day.

Next time I’m in Nara, I will pop in and enquire.

Although Shiro means “white” in Japanese, and his title was the rather wordy, “The White Elephant of Vietnam of Fourth Imperial Rank,” 広南四位白象, according to various diarists of the day, he was, in fact, gray.

The post The Incredible Tale of the Elephant Who had an Audience with the Japanese Emperor first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.