Kagoshima’s Unique Cat Shrine

Decades before Europeans started using pocket watches, Shimadzu Yoshihiro relied on a different, more cuddly timepiece. This valorous samurai was the 17th head of the Shimadzu family, feudal lords of all of southern Kyushu since 1185.

By Yoshihiro’s time in the late 16th century, Toyotomi Hideyoshi had succeeded in unifying Japan, but his ambitions did not stop there. Flushed with success, he set his sights on China and, in 1592, sent Japanese armies across the sea to Korea to clear the way.

At the behest of Hideyoshi, Shimadzu Yoshihiro set off to battle in Korea, bringing along his treasured katana, tanegashima machlock gun, kemari ball—and seven cats to help him keep track of the time, and one would suppose, to keep him company.

Fighting on the Korean peninsula was fierce. Japanese forces faced off against the armies of the Joseon Kingdom, reinforced by the vast and seemingly inexhaustible troops of Ming China. The samurai fought valiantly, and none moreso than Yoshihiro, who distinguished himself to such a degree that Ming soldiers nicknamed him “The Demon Shimadzu.”

Nevertheless, Hideyoshi’s dream of becoming emperor of China ended in tremendous losses. After his death at his lavish Kyoto residence, the weary samurai finally retreated, bringing with them slaves, apothecaries, master potters—and, in Yoshihiro’s case, his two surviving cats, Yachi and Take.

On his return to Kagoshima, Yoshihiro had a shrine built on the grounds of Kagoshima Castle next to the toki no kane, the bell used to mark the hours for the town. There, his loyal cats were enshrined as Shinto deities and christened the Kami (Shinto god) of Time.

After the Meiji Restoration in 1868 ended the feudal system in Japan, the Shimadzu family left the castle grounds and moved to their seaside villa, Senganen, bringing the Cat Shrine with them. Today, it remains on a quiet hill behind the Shimadzu estate, one of the very few cat shrines in Japan—and the only one dedicated to the keeping of time.

Memorial Services

Each year on “Cat Day,” February 22, the shrine holds the Aibyō Chōju Kigan-sai, a ceremony to pray for the health and longevity of beloved cats.

Another ceremony is held on the little-known Toki no Hi, or “Time Day,” which commemorates the day in 671 AD when Emperor Tenji installed Japan’s first water clock in his capital at Otsu, in what is now Shiga Prefecture. Because Yoshihiro’s cats were instrumental in timekeeping—so much so that Yachi and Take came to be revered as Kami of Time—the shrine holds a Memorial Service for Cats, Aibyo Kuyo-sai, on that day. Clockmakers and cat-lovers alike flock to the shrine to honor Yoshihiro’s trusted “time cats” and the military precision he achieved during the Korean campaigns, thanks to their help.

The shrine’s ema depict Yoshihiro’s two cats. Visitors write their prayers and wishes on these wooden votive tablets and hang them at the shrine. Some ask for the return of a missing cat, others for healing, but most simply pray for long, healthy lives for their furry friends.

How to tell time with a cat

In the mid-17th century, the scholar Tanigawa Shisei penned this catchy poem to explain how to tell time by observing a cat’s eyes. As is typical of Japanese, the subject is understood.

Translated from the Edo-era time terminology, the poem reads:

At sunrise and sunset, they are round.

At 8 am and 4 pm, they are egg-shaped.

At 10 am and 2 pm, they are melon-seed shaped*

At noon, like a needle.

*Melon-seed was a common descriptive shape back in the day, probably more familiar to us as the shape of a persimmon seed.

Anyone who has spent time around cats will have noticed this. Their pupils widen into dark circles at night and narrow to thin slits in bright daylight. By learning these changes and keeping a cooperative cat handy, it’s possible to make a rough, but practical, estimate of the time.

If you ever find yourself in Kagoshima, consider visiting Senganen and seeking out the Cat Shrine dedicated to the Kami of Time—the only one of its kind in Japan.

I don’t think I’ll ever look at a cat the same way again.

The post Cats—From Battlefield Timekeepers to Unexpected Shinto Deities first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Rabbits, rival gods, and the father of the first emperor

As we walked along the path to Udo Shrine on the Nichinan coast of southeastern Miyazaki Prefecture, the morning sun sparkled on the clear blue sea. It was a beautiful day, and although cold, the sun warmed us.

After passing through the initial torii gate, we soon came to a magnificent two-story vermilion and white gate, much like those that stand at the entranceway to Buddhist temples. Indeed, until the Meiji government forcefully separated Buddhism from Shinto in 1868, this shrine shared its grounds with 18 temples.

A bit further north along the windswept coast, we came across cute statues of rabbits. I stopped to read about them. Curiously, they are the shinshi, 神使, divine messengers of Udo’s illustrious deity who bridge the gap to this world.

Most Shinto shrines have komainu lion dogs as guardians. Although, there are Shinto deities that have other shinshi animals:

• The more than 30,000 Inari shrines have fox messenger guardians

• The more than 12,000 shrines dedicated to Tenmangu, the God of Learning, have cows

• A few shrines to Wake no Kiyomaro, the Great Protector of the Emperor, have wild boars

• Rare shrines have cats as guardians, such as the Omatsu Daigongen Shrine in Shikoku

• And shrines to Bishamon, the God of Warriors, have tiger guardians, such as the Kurama-Dera Temple, north of Kyoto.

But rabbits? Why does Udo Shrine have rabbits?

To answer that question, we need to go back so far in history that we enter the realm of legend.

The Tale of Two Brothers — Umisachi-Hiko and Yamasachi-Hiko

Long, long ago, on the great plains of Heaven, the sun goddess Amaterasu sent her grandson, Ninigi no Mikoto, down to rule over the earth. He descended upon Mount Takachiho, in southern Kyushu.

Ninigi raised his eyes and spied the distant town of Ata in the land of the Hayato. He deemed this a good land and there he settled. He married a lovely maiden, Konohana no Sakuyahime, and they had three sons, two of whom were Umisachi and Yamasachi. Umisachi, whose name means “blessings of the sea,” made his livelihood by harvesting the bounty of the sea, while his younger brother Yamasachi, whose name means “blessings of the mountains” — well, you know.

One day, the younger Yamasachi asked his brother, “How about if we trade hunting tools? You take my spear and I get your fish hook? Please.”

Umisachi brushed him off, but Yamasachi persisted. After Yamasachi pleaded three times, his brother gave in.

Yamasachi, filled with excitement, took his brother’s fish hook and went to the seaside. Hours later, not only had he not caught a single fish, but he lost his brother’s hook.

Meanwhile, Umisachi was off in the mountains hunting. He, too, caught not one animal. He returned to the seaside and met his distraught brother.

“I lost your fish hook in the sea!” Yamasachi blurted out his confession.

This was not good news. Umisachi was enraged. “You find it and give it back!” he shouted.

This seemed an impossible task, so Yamasachi took drastic measures. He broke apart his prized long sword and used it to fashion 500 fish hooks which he presented to his brother.

Umisachi did not accept them.

Yamasachi then made 1,000 fish hooks to give his brother.

Umisachi refused to take them, saying in his petulance, “I want my fish hook.”

In despair, Yamasachi sat by the seaside and dissolved into tears.

The God of the Tides, Shiotsuchi no Kami, passed by and saw his distress. He listened to Yamasachi’s troubles and offered to help. Shiotsuchi built a small boat of tightly woven bamboo and said, “Get in and let the boat follow the tides. It will take you to the gate of the palace of the Sea God. Climb the katsura tree before the gate and wait there. Toyotamabime, the daughter of the Sea God, will help you.”

This Yamasachi did. As he waited atop the tree, a servant of Toyotamabime saw him and went to call her mistress. When Toyotamabime saw the beautiful Yamasachi atop the tree, their eyes locked, and her heart was captured.

She ran to tell her father. Upon setting eyes on Yamasachi, the Sea God recognized him as the son of a god.

He set out skins of sea lions and laid upon them many layers of silk to make a comfortable seat for Yamasachi. The God of the Sea presented a feast to him, after which he gave the hand of his daughter in marriage to the bewildered Yamasachi.

Yamasachi and his wife lived happily in the palace of the Sea God for three years. Then, one day, Yamasachi remembered why he had gone there in the first place.

The lost fish hook.

Recalling his brother’s anger, Yamasachi revisited his former despair. Toyotamabime, seeing his uncharacteristic sadness, went to her father.

The God of the Sea listened to Yamasachi’s troubles. He then called to him all the fish of the sea, asking if any knew of the missing hook.

Rumor among the fish community told of a sea bream with a bone stuck in its throat. They brought the unfortunate fish to the God, and lo and behold, the missing hook was in its throat.

The Sea God washed the fish hook and presented it to Yamasachi. He put a curse on the hook and instructed Yamasachi,

“When you present this hook to Umisachi, tell him, ‘This fish hook muddles the mind and makes its owner poor and foolish.’

“When Umisachi makes rice fields in the mountains, you make them in the valleys. When he makes them in the valleys, you make them in the mountains. I control the water, and your fields will be fruitful while his will be desolate.

“If your brother attacks you, use this orb to raise the sea level and drown him. If he begs for mercy, use this other orb to lower the tides.”

This he said while placing two magical orbs in Yamasachi’s hands.

Yamasachi returned to his land on the back of a shark. He did as the Sea God had instructed him, and he was blessed with three years of bountiful rice harvests. Umisachi, meanwhile, languished in poverty.

Seeing his brother’s good fortune, Umisachi’s anger rose, and, just as the Sea God had instructed, Yamasachi used the orb to raise the sea and drown his brother.

After long struggling in the waves, Umisachi cried out, “I promise to forever serve and protect you.”

Yamasachi used his other orb to lower the sea and rescue his brother. From thenceforth Umisachi and his descendants, the Hayato people, served Yamasachi and his descendants, the Yamato people.

But wait! What about the rabbits?

Udo Shrine’s origin

Yamasachi’s wife had gotten pregnant, and as the custom of her people was, she traveled to the shore to give birth. A birthing hut was constructed and was to be thatched with cormorant feathers, but before it was finished, her pains were upon her and she rushed into a cave.

Toyotamabime warned Yamasachi that she would return to her natural form while giving birth, and she made him promise not to look upon her.

Overwhelmed with curiosity, he peeked into the cave. His beloved had transformed into a large crawling, undulating shark. Yamasachi was beside himself. He ran and hid.

Knowing she had been seen, Toyotamabime, in her shame, returned to the sea, but not before exchanging poems of everlasting love with her husband, Yamasachi.

Udo Shrine is built within the cave where Toyotamabime gave birth. Udo, 鵜戸, means “Cormorant dwelling.”

To reach the seashore, Toyotamabime had ridden on the back of a turtle. This turtle has since turned to stone. Beaten by the waves, it has been sanctified and crowned with a shimenawa rope. Those who successfully toss a lucky stone into the indentation on the top will have their wishes fulfilled.

The child born to Toyotamabime and Yamasachi was named Ugayafukiaezu no Mikoto. He eventually married his mother’s younger sister, and they became the parents of Japan’s first emperor, Jimmu.

Ugayafukiaezu no Mikoto, written 鸕鷀草葺不合尊, has the sound “u” at beginning of his name. This “u” is written using the old character for cormorant, 鸕. In ancient Japanese, characters were sometimes used to represent sounds rather than their meanings.

The word rabbit, usagi, when written in combinations is also read “u” — although it uses completely different characters, 兎 or 卯. Sometime way back before the 8th century, this play on words — or characters, if you will — became the reason that rabbits were chosen to serve Ugayafukiawezu no Mikoto at Udo Shrine.

Not as satisfying an explanation as I had been hoping for.

Nade Usagi for healing

Like the Sasuri Neko cat statue at the Omatsu Daigongen Shrine in Shikoku, Udo Shrine has a Nade Usagi, or stroking rabbit, within its cave. Visitors rub the rabbit’s body to receive healing, stroking its body in the place where they themselves have ailments.

If you are ever in southern Kyushu, I hope you will take the time to seek out Udo Shrine, enjoy the magic of its legends, and explore the beautiful Nichinan coastline.

References:

Udo Shrine signage, the Kojiki, Professor Nakamura.

The post Udo Shrine—Secrets of a Mysterious Seaside Shrine first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.

Why all the foxes and red gates?

For centuries, visitors to Kyoto have been charmed—and possibly tired out—by climbing the stairs through the thousands of red torii gates to the top of Mount Inari on the grounds of the Fushimi Inari Grand Shrine, the ancient “Vatican” of more than 30,000 Inari shrines throughout Japan.

What is an Inari Shrine?

The name Inari comes from the Japanese word for rice plant, ina. Inari is a composite of the fox spirit, several gods of agriculture, and the goddess of foodstuff, Uka no Mitama. Inari shrines honor this combined deity.

Inari is one of the most widely venerated kami, divine beings, in the indigenous Japanese Shinto religion.

At the beginning of the 8th century, Mount Inari, in Kyoto, became the center of worship of the fox spirit, the protector of grains. People prayed at the mountaintop Inari shrine for bountiful harvests, rainfall to come or end, and for the country’s safety.

As the years passed, Inari’s portfolio grew, taking on success in sericulture (raising silkworms for the production of silk) during the Heian Era (794–1185) and success in business and swordsmithing during the Edo Era (1603–1867).

Today, Inari has become the guardian of household peace and prosperity, successful studies, finding a suitable spouse, improving skills in the performing arts, and more.

In the early 9th century, at the behest of the Buddhist monk, Kukai, the founder of Shingon Buddhism, the original Inari Shrine was moved to its current location at the foot of Mount Inari. It was soon elevated to the highest rank for Shinto shrines. There is still a small shrine at the top of the mountain, and many smaller shrines and stone offerings along the way up.

During the Edo Era (1603–1867), Inari’s popularity boomed, and thousands of local Inari shrines were built around the country as a place to pray for good harvests, protection, and business prosperity. These small shrines hold the same spiritual power as the Fushimi Grand Shrine in Kyoto.

Why the red gates?

Just as Ema are hung at shrines in thanksgiving and as prayers, both Ema and red torii gates are offered at Inari Shines. Interestingly, the idea for the gates is said to come from a play on words, 通る, or tooru, which can mean passing through or coming to pass.

While tooru may sound a bit like torii, they are not related. The direct translation of torii is delightfully fitting, “bird residence,” 鳥居.

Donated torii gates are generally painted red or vermillion, which is the traditional color for warding off evil. Palaces, temples, and shrines were often painted this bright color. The vermillion originally used was made from mercury and this served the additional function of preserving the wood.

At Fushimi Inari Grand Shrine, the gates along the Senbon Torii, “The 1,000 Torii,” actually number in the 10,000s, each one with the name of its donor painted on it.

Foxes

Inari is a fox spirit, and his messengers are foxes, too. These white or translucent spiritual beings are called byakko, 白狐, literally “white fox.” They are shown as guardian statues at the shrines, sometimes holding a grainery key, scroll, or jewel in their mouths.

People often have small Inari shrines in their houses, where they give thanks to their personal Inari for his protection and help. And just as Jizo statues are sometimes dressed in red bibs as a token of reverence and care, so are many of the fox statues given bibs as a show of appreciation to Inari for his blessing and protection.

Stone Monuments

Along the way up Mount Inari behind the Fushimi Grand Shrine, there are thousands of stones carved with the personal names given to individuals’ or companies’ Inari. This practice started long ago, and it has become very popular in the last 100 years. In the 1920s there were 2,500 stones. Today, there are over 10,000.

Inari Buddhist Temples?

Although Inari is a Shinto kami, when Buddhism arrived in Japan in the 6th century, many believed the Buddhist deities to be the material manifestations of the local Shinto kami and the two religions grew to coexist peacefully.

Many Buddhist temples have Shinto guardians. In fact, Kukai, the monk mentioned above, adopted Inari as the guardian of his Shingon Buddhist Temple in Kyoto, Tōji.

At the Toyokawa Temple in Aichi Prefecture, the Buddhist deity Dakini-ten, who is said to have come to earth riding on a white fox and carrying sheaves of grain, became syncretized with the Shinto deity Inari.

This rather unusual temple has, aside from temple buildings and Buddhist imagery, both a torii gate and thousands of fox statues. This synthesis of deities and religions, though striking many Westerners as odd, is in fact quintessentially Japanese.

Food of the gods?

In ancient days, farmers were plagued by mice eating their all-important grain crops. They felt a great sense of gratitude towards the foxes who would eat the mice.

This reverence for foxes — with their grain-colored fur and whose tails were said to resemble sheaves of grain — laid the foundation for the worship of Inari.

To show their appreciation, farmers of bygone days would catch and fry mice and offer them as ceremonial gifts before the foxes’ burrows. This tasty dish was known as nezumi aburaage, fried mice, and was said to be a favorite food of foxes.

Along with the spread of Buddhism, a moral aversion to killing spread throughout the land. The practice of offering cooked mice was eventually replaced with the offering of fried thin tofu, aburaage.

From then on, aburaage has been a common offering at Inari shrines, and because of this history, it is a dish that foxes are said to love. Perhaps you have had inari sushi, or maybe kitsune-udon, a type of noodle soup upon which triangles of aburaage are placed.

Kitsune means fox.

Kitsune udon can be found universally, from standing counters at train stations in Japan to Japanese restaurants all over the world. Little do people realize that when they tuck into their bowls of kitsune udon, they are enjoying a dish that can trace its origins all the way back to offerings of fried mice.

Sources:

Fushimi Grand Shrine, Toyokawa Inari, too many Japanese web pages to list, and 35 years of living in Japan.

All photos by the author unless otherwise stated. Sketch of Dakini-ten based on an image found in the 18th century Butsuzō Zui book of Buddhist Deity illustrations, drawn by the author.

The post Surprising Secrets of Iconic Japanese Inari Shrines first appeared on More Than Tokyo and is written by Diane Tincher.