Hokkaidô Jingû Tongû

A branch of Hokkaidô Jingû in Maruyama Park, Hokkaidô Jingû Tongû is the shrine where several mikoshi (portable shrines) are stored throughout the year. It is located on the central east side of Sapporo only a few blocks from the clock tower in Odori Park. Because this shrine is small and rather quiet, I couldn’t find any information about when the shrine was built or if there is a greater purpose for the shrine beyond storage responsibilities. That being said, I would make the assumption that this shrine was like a satellite of the main Hokkaidô Jingû in Maruyama that likely served the more immediate spiritual needs to the people living in this particular section of Sapporo.

For the casual: 4. For the educated: 4.

I gave this shrine a low grade really only because there’s no great need to go there. It does have its own Goshuin for those wondering, but other than that, there’s nothing about it that calls a great deal of attention to itself. Honestly, I just found it while walking to the Sapporo Beer Museum. I guess one could describe it as functional or egalitarian. It serves all the purposes of any other shrine, but it doesn’t need to reach beyond that: it knows its responsibilities to the community and does just that. I will say that I enjoyed this shrine quite a bit just because it was a lovely quiet spot in the area. The trees are really nice and the shrine offices have some lovely paintings to see on the walls accompanied by relaxing music.

 

Hokkaidô Jingû

Hokkaidô Jingû is the premier shrine to the island, and was founded by Emperor Meiji in 1869 following his ascention. The shrine was built to offer spiritual assistance to the pioneers working through the forests. The shrine is home to “the Three Pioneer Deities” and was positioned in the area of Maruyama because of the three mountains that surrounded it. Later under Emperor Showa, the venerated spirit of Emperor Meiji was enshrined in Hokkaidô Jingû making it one of only a few shrines in Japan to be home to four different deities.

For the casual: 7. For the educated: 6.

Hokkaidô Jingû, as mentioned above, is the premier shrine to the area, and is the most important shrine in Hokkaido. It’s a beautiful shrine, deserving of the title Jingû, and it sits within a wonderful public park perfect for picnics, parties, and other pleasantries. Ok, I won’t lie, I definitely noticed that alliteration and decided to go with it. I really do believe that the shrine and the larger Maruyama park are a wonderful place to spend a sunny afternoon, just be careful of the crafty ravens looking for some mischief. After visiting the shrine or enjoying the park, Maruyama Zoo is just up the street.

 

Fuji-san Komitake Jinja

Before Mt. Fuji existed as we see it today, it actually had a different name. In fact, according to Japanese traditional understanding, before the volcano known as Fuji-san was formed, Komitake-san was the reigning volcano in the area. Over the years, as Fuji-san erupted and expanded, it gradually swallowed Komitake-san to the point that we see it today, a small peak about half way up the side of Fuji-san. Now, have residents of the area witnessed the physical swallowing of Komitake-san? No. But people have been around long enough to see the larger Fuji-san absorb the very peak of the mountain over the course of Japan’s written history. This local legend was backed up with geological research which confirmed that Fuji-san is the latest in a long line of volcano cores which date back millions of years. As a result, this shrine is dedicated to Komitake-san and is the marker used to indicate the 5th station on the climb up to the peak of Fuji-san.

For the casual: 9. For the educated: 9.

The shrine itself is a very small little shack at the 5th station just before the Yoshida Trail, so it can be easy to miss if you’re attempting the climb. The local legend is that Komitake-san was home to a tengu, a yokai that lives in the mountains, and the tengu was said to bring good luck to climbers. Therefore, visiting the shrine before making the climb has a chance to bring you better weather (the wind can be dangerous), good speed, and a safe return from the summit.

Let’s talk geology for a minute or two, shall we? The compressed energy within a volcano is always looking for the easiest way out, and the buildup of such pressure causes a multitude of cracks and vents to open in the hillside. If one vent is more efficent than the others at releasing that stored energy, that vent is used more causing it to get larger, and often becoming a secondary peak on the mountain. Small vents will either remain as they are or grow, sometimes to the extent of dwarfing the parent volcano, as is the case with Fuji-san. Fuji-san is infact a dormant stratavolcano, so there’s little need to worry while ascending its slopes. But dormant doesn’t mean extinct, and records show that it typically errupts every 300 years or so. The last erruption was just before the turn of the 18th century (300 years ago ^(O.O)^   ).

Credit to Daniel Traub for checking my geological language.

 

Atsuta Jingû

Atsuta Jingû is one of the holiest shrines in Japan and considered as such because it is a shrine to the sun goddess Amaterasu-Omikoto, the matriarch of the Imperial Family. Technically, enshrined is Atsuta-no-Omikoto, which is Amaterasu’s spirit in the form of one of the three Imperial Regalia: The Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi. The Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi (Grass-Cutting Sword), or Ame-no-Murakumo-no-Tsurugi (Heavenly Sword of Gathering Clouds), is one of the most important cultural items in Japan, confering unto the emperor the power to rule. I mentioned in a previous post that Naiku in Ise is the holiest shrine in Japan and holds in its poscession, though unconfirmed, the bronze mirror which holds the image of Amaterasu-Omikoto. Atsuta Jingû can be thought of as simply another shrine to house an equally important item.

For the casual: 6. For the educated: 10.

Like Naikû and Gekû, visual access to the shrine is largely restricted with tall walls hiding most of what is visible. Visitors do have access to a path which follows the wall to the back side of the shrine which gives an idea of just how large the inner sanctum is, but again, the most people are likely to see are the gold leaf caps on the finials jutting from the shrine roof. Having said that, Atsuta Jingû is a beautiful shrine in the heart of Nagoya and retains a great deal of forest surrounding it. The grounds are like many major shrines in Japan with large gravel paths and beautiful trees. If the weather is good, there is a wonderful play of light between the green of the vegetation, the gold of sunlight on the wood buildings, and the white gray of the gravel. It’s a really nice combination which I find very relaxing. Depending on the time of the year, various events take place at the shrine from unique matsuri to larger-scale holiday events. During Golden Week in May, the shrine is filled with people praying for luck for their children. Strangely enough, when I was there, there were chickens roaming around the shrine.

A little chat about the sword. Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi is not the kind of sword that one would think of when thinking about a “Japanese” sword. Because only the emperor and those of the highest ranks in the caretaking of the artifcats are able to see the items itself, there is no conclusive image or description of what the sword really looks like. However, based on traditional imagery and other ceremonial swords from ancient Japan, the educated guess is that it’s a bronze sword with a straight blade which actually resembles a gladius of sorts, though there is no actual correlation between the two. Where the story gets really juicy is the fact that it’s likely the sword no longer exists. During the Genpei War, a civil war in the late 12th century between the Taira and Minamoto samurai clans, the young Emperor Antoku, only about the age of 9, fled Kyoto with the Taira clan to Kyushu. Because Antoku’s grandfather was actually Taira no Kiyomori, the leader of the Taira clan, it was feared that the Minamoto clan would come after the young emperor and surplant him with an emperor favorable to their cause. To deny this new emperor the authority of succession, they took with them peices of the Imperial Regalia, in this case, Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi. According to Heike Monogatari (The Tale of the Heike), an account of the Genpei War, Emperor Antoku and his mother were aboard a Taira ship escaping to Kyushu when the forces of the Taira and Minamoto engaged in a naval combat. Rather than be captured, Antoku’s mother cast herself and her son into the sea and drowned, and with them, the sword. The emperor who actually succeeded Antoku was Emperor Go-Toba, an emperor with a passion for swordcrafting. When he crafted swords, he crafted his own imprint as a signature in the shape of a chrysanthemum, the emblem that would become the crest for the Imperial Family. Because of this, I have a theory that the current Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi was crafted, or at least overseen, by Go-Toba to replace the real one.