IV. Buddhism And Christianity.
Guardian Nio.
The Buddhist temples in Japan are for the most part built on a much grander and more elaborate scale than those belonging to the Shinto worship. The roofing is not of thatch, but of tiles; and instead of the torii, the entrance is through a Sammon, or two-storied gateway, in the recesses of which stand two huge figures of ferocious appearance. These are called Nio, and their office is to guard the sacred precincts from the approach of evil spirits. These images are commonly seen spotted all over with pellets of paper. “A worshipper writes his petition on paper, or better still, has it written for him by the priest, chews it to a pulp, and spits it at the divinity. If, having been well aimed, the paper sticks, it is a good omen.” Passing through the Sammon, and proceeding in a straight direction—often between rows of votive stone-lanterns—the visitor soon arrives at the two largest buildings of the temple group. One of these is the Hondo, or main shrine; while the other may be either the Hall of the Founder of the particular sect to which the Temple [pg 068] belongs, or it may contain a colossal image of Amida, and be specially dedicated to his worship. Sometimes, again, this second building is known as the Refectory, from the spiritual nourishment supplied there in the form of sermons, for which the preacher takes as his text some passage of the Sutra, or, it may be, some saying of Confucius.[21] Removing our boots, which we leave at the foot of the wooden steps, we ascend to the Hondo, and, if need be, push aside the sliding-doors of paper-covered woodwork, which afford access to the building. Should no service chance to be in progress, a little company of priests, acolytes, &c., will probably be found, seated on the matting with which the floor is covered,—engaged in the perusal of book or newspaper, or chatting together over miniature cups of tea, and, if it be winter-time, spreading their hands to receive the grateful warmth of the hibachi.[22] Beside them, on the [pg 069] floor, is arranged a miscellaneous assortment of sacred pictures, leaflets, candles, incense-sticks, charms, and other articles; any of which may be purchased by a very modest expenditure. As we enter, we observe that several pairs of eyes are fastened on us in undisguised curiosity; but our low salutation is promptly responded to, if indeed it has not been anticipated, and one of the group will courteously come forward to supply us with any assistance or information we require. Before the railing, which encloses the sanctuary, two or three worshippers are kneeling in prayer; and these also examine us for a while with close attention. Or, it may be that at the time of our visit some religious function is proceeding. If so, the clergy with their servers are found within the chancel, clad in gorgeous yellow robes, and genuflecting now and again before the images which stand above the richly-vested altar. Outside the sanctuary rails, the congregation is assembled in greater or less numbers, according to the importance of the day. Around is a profusion of lights and flowers; while the air is fragrant with the fumes of incense. The prayers, which the officiating priest recites in monotone, are in Pali, a form of Sanskrit; and if an air of perfunctoriness pervades his devotions, let it be remembered that every day, month after month, and year after year, he may be found chanting these same litanies, of the significance [pg 070] of which he has but the vaguest idea. Not, however, that he is without belief in their efficacy; nay, it may be that his very ignorance of their meaning causes the words he utters to have, in his eyes, a transcendent value. Above the high altar, in seated posture on lotus-blossoms,[23] are three colossal images, cunningly wrought and richly gilded, and bearing on their countenances an expression of placid repose. Perhaps, it is the Triratna, or Three Jewels, that these represent, the Trinity of Buddha, the Law, and the Order. Or, possibly, this is Buddha, in his triple forms of existence:—as Sakya-muni, the form under which he lived as man among men; as Amitabha, his metaphysical existence in Nirvana; as Avalokitesvara, his reflex in the world of forms, his spiritual son, generated to propagate the religion established by him during his earthly career. Or once again, these three images may portray the Buddhas of the Past, Present, and Future:—Gautama who was, the historic founder of Buddhism; Kwannon, or Avalokitesvara, the head of the present Buddhist hierarchy, the Buddha who is; and Maitreya, or [pg 071] Meroku, the deliverer yet to come, the rehabilitation of past Buddhas foretold by Sakya-muni. Now and again one may meet with a Buddhist of superior intellectual attainments, who would explain the acts of worship he offers to these images, as signifying merely reverence for Gautama's teaching; but to the multitude, as has been seen already, the images represent distinct and all-powerful deities. Indeed, the people are encouraged thus to regard them by their ecclesiastical superiors; it being one of the methods of Buddhism thus to adapt its teaching to the capacity of dense and ignorant minds. And thus it comes about that a religion, commencing with agnosticism, meets the “craving for divinity,” so deeply implanted in the nature of our race, by passing into what is, practically, a deification of humanity.
Pagoda at Nikko.
Leaving the Hondo, we next proceed to explore the grounds and remaining buildings connected with the temple. This lofty Pagoda, for instance, several stories high, is erected over some holy relic,—perhaps the vitrified remains of the founder, after cremation. A little further on, we come to the Rinzo, or Revolving Library, containing an entire set of the Buddhist scriptures. As these consist altogether of some 6,700 or 6,800 large volumes, it is clearly impossible for any one person to read them all. This, however, need not be regretted seeing that whatever merit might be [pg 072] obtained by a complete perusal, is freely extended to all, who will take the trouble to make this huge stand revolve; the structure being so arranged that a single push is sufficient for the purpose! The Rinzo was an invention of a Chinese priest, and is said to date from the sixth century. Owing to their costliness they are rarely met with; and the only two I remember seeing were at Asakusa, Tokio, and at Ikegami, the head-quarters of the Hokkai sect. Elsewhere in the grounds we come upon the Shoro, or Great Bell,—used not for summoning the faithful, but for the purpose of invocation and worship;—the Koro, or Drum-tower; the Emado, or “Ex-voto” Shed, the walls of which are covered with pictures, charms, and other offerings; cisterns for the purpose of ceremonial purification; a printing and publishing department; and, perhaps, a grotto with ghastly representations of the sufferings endured in the Buddhist hells. Usually, too, to be found in the sacred precincts, is a specimen of the Ficus religiosa, or sacred tree, under which Sakya-muni attained his enlightenment. At the rear of the temple buildings are situated the priests' apartments,—often a quadrangle enclosed by a colonnade,—the reception-rooms of which are beautifully decorated with kakemonos. Here the visitor is sometimes invited to a light repast of tea, cake, and fruit; the priests waiting on him the while with the most [pg 073] courteous attention. And here may I be permitted to say a word about the Buddhist priests of Japan as I found them? They are commonly spoken of as lazy and ignorant, mercenary and corrupt; and it is to be feared that with regard to many, especially of the lower orders of the clergy, this witness is true. But speaking of those with whom I came into direct contact—the priests, for the most part, attached to the more important temples—I feel bound to say, that the impression I formed of them was, on the whole, a distinctly favourable one. With countenances often indicating close spiritual application, they appeared to perform their sacred duties with reverence and attention; while of the disinterested kindness and hospitality I received at their hands, as well as of the courtesy and patience with which they replied to my numerous questions, I would speak in terms of grateful appreciation.
Plan Of Buddhist Temple At Ikegami, Near Tokio. (Head-quarters of the Hokkai or Nichiren sect.) The path to the left from the Entrance Gate leads to the Main Temple; that to the right to the Founder's Hall. To the right of the plan are the Drum-tower and Pagoda. Behind the Main Temple is the Rinzo or Revolving Library; and in the lower left-hand corner of the picture is the Reliquary. The two small buildings in the foreground are the Belfry and the Emado. In the background are the Priests' Apartments and Reception-rooms.
A visit to a Buddhist temple, however, can hardly fail to suggest to any, who are at all familiar with the observances of the Roman ritual, a comparison to which we have already referred,—I mean the striking resemblance between the Buddhist ceremonies and such as have found place in the Christian Church. The high-altar with its haloed statues, flowers, candelabra, and ever-burning lamps; the side-altars, similarly adorned, above one of which, it may be, is seen the image of Maia, the mother of Gautama, bearing her infant-son [pg 074] in her arms; the priests, tonsured, mitred, arrayed in their rich vestments, and attended by their acolytes; the people, bending low in adoration, or telling their rosaries as they pray; the tinkling of bells and the perfume of incense; the dim light of the sanctuary, and the monotonous chant, in the unknown tongue, of the litanies uplifted for living and for dead:—these are only some of the points of correspondence with Roman Catholic observances which meet us in almost every Buddhist temple. Indeed, to attempt to specify such resemblances in detail would prove a laborious task. But while the similarity to which I refer is far too close and remarkable to be accounted for by mere coincidence, its explanation is by no means easy. Some would solve the difficulty by referring to the unquestionable fact that many of the ceremonies practised in the Christian Church are adaptations of ancient heathen rites: a leading captive of captivity of which, as it seems to me, Christianity has far more reason to be proud than ashamed. But though the Buddhist observances are, without doubt, of considerable antiquity, this explanation cannot be said to be adequate to the requirements of the case. Far more satisfactory is the theory that ascribes the phenomenon to an early contact of China with some form of Christianity—probably Nestorianism—and to the readiness which Buddhism has ever exhibited to extend its influence [pg 075] by a conformity to other faiths. The problem, however, is one which we must, to a great extent, be satisfied to leave unsolved; the most eminent authorities in Orientalism having confessed themselves baffled. It is only the fact of the resemblance that admits of no dispute.
A Buddhist Priest.
It is curious to notice the different effects produced by an observation of the Buddhist ceremonial on the minds of Roman Catholic missionaries upon their first arrival in the East. By some its likeness to their own ritual has been regarded as a manœuvre of Satan, designed for the hindrance of Christian truth; while others have regarded the resemblance with satisfaction, as calculated to diminish the difficulties of their work. Without entering further into this question, I may be allowed to express the conviction that an elaborate ceremonial forms at any rate no necessary factor of Christian work in Japan. So far from this being the case, I was informed, on no prejudiced authority, that, the breach once made with the old associations, converts are disposed to regard anything tending even remotely to suggest them as more of a hindrance than a help; and this view finds support in the large number of adherents gained by several of the Protestant Missions, with whom anything in the way of ceremonial is reduced to a minimum. On the other hand, must be remembered the very successful work accomplished [pg 076] in Japan, alike by the Roman and Orthodox Churches, whose combined total of some 65,000 adherents is more than double that of the various Protestant sects,—the Churches of England and America, with 4,000 members, not being included in this computation.
Hitherto, I have referred only to the resemblance outwardly existing between the ceremonies and observances of Christianity and Buddhism. But an extension of the comparison results in what is, at first sight, an even more startling similarity between incidents recorded of Gautama Buddha, and events in the life of Jesus Christ, as narrated in the Gospels. Thus, we are told that Gautama was born of a virgin mother; that angels appeared at his nativity; that an ancient seer prostrated himself before him, and saluted him as one come down from heaven; that, as a child, he confounded his teachers by the understanding he displayed, and the questions which he asked; that, assailed by the Evil One[24] with the keenest temptations,—including the offer of Sovereignty over all the world, if he would renounce his mission,—he yet emerged victorious from all; that once, being on a mountain, he was enveloped in a cloud of heavenly light; that he went down into hell; and that he ascended into heaven. Indeed, the Christian may be [pg 077] pardoned if, for the moment, he feels completely staggered at all that he finds advanced on behalf of Sakya-muni; and if his perplexity only begins to give place to relief, when he discovers that there is absolutely no trace of such extraordinary coincidence in the early Buddhist writings, and that there is no reason for supposing that these alleged events in the life of Gautama were ever heard of until the Christian era was already several centuries old.
We have now, as far as our limits permit, made an examination of Buddhism with especial reference to Japan. But before leaving this part of our subject, I would humbly, but very earnestly, submit the question, Is there in Buddhism generally,—is there in Buddhism as it exists in Japan at the present day,—nothing upon which Christianity may profitably fasten, nothing to which Christianity may properly appeal? Is that great proclamation of Christian tact, which, eighteen centuries ago, the Apostle Paul delivered on the Areopagus at Athens, “Whom ye ignorantly worship, Him declare I unto you,” one that cannot, more often than it does, find a place on the lips of our missionaries of to-day? Is the position a useless one to take, that both the faiths of Jesus Christ and of Buddha agree in this, that either has for its object the amelioration of man's lot, here and hereafter, and his release from the curse of suffering; only, as we believe, with this great difference, that the founder of Christianity [pg 078] was possessed of resources to which Sakya-muni laid no claim? These are questions which were constantly presenting themselves to my mind during my visit to Japan; but they are questions also which I heard asked more than once by men who had closely studied the whole subject and were deeply interested in mission work. But whatever the true answer to these questions be, of this we may be certain: that by no reckless denunciation of a creed, of the very elements of which the denouncer is content to be in ignorance, will any victory of Christ's Cross be achieved. Be the errors and shortcomings of Buddhism what they may,—and we must, to be honest, pronounce them in our judgment to be many and great,—it is, at least, a system of very great antiquity, in whose strength thousands of millions of our fellow-creatures have lived and died, both better and happier. Men cannot be expected lightly to abandon their allegiance to such a faith as this, nor would it be to their credit if they did; while in Christianity, even when faithfully represented, there is very much calculated to perplex and estrange one who has been trained in the tenets of Buddhism. Moreover, however little he may agree with them, the Buddhist holds that the religious convictions of others are entitled to respect, and that their feelings should never be wounded, if this can be avoided; it is only natural that he, in his [pg 079] turn, should be quickly alienated by unsympathetic treatment. I was told by an English resident of long standing that infidelity is largely on the increase in Japan, especially among the men of the upper and middle classes; and that among the causes of this was certainly to be reckoned the contemptuous and merely destructive attitude towards Buddhism, with which some—let us hope they are the very few—would think to serve the cause of Jesus Christ. “Depend upon it,” it was said to me, “it is irreligion that commonly succeeds to the vacant place, not Christianity. Carlyle was right when he said, ‘Better even to believe a lie than to believe nothing.’ ” And Buddhism is not all a lie!
“The perishing heathen.” Many of us have been revolted by such expressions when heard at home. But it is only when one is living in the midst of the people of whom they are spoken, that it is possible to realize the full horror of their meaning. That men, women, and little children, who are distinguished by so many good qualities,[25] and who—with, as we believe, such immeasurably inferior opportunities—present, in many points, so [pg 080] favourable a contrast to ourselves, should be condemned to a future of hopeless and unending misery, for not believing that of which, it may be, they have not even heard, or heard only in crude, [pg 081] distorted statement—can any man really think this, who recognizes the providence of a Father of Love; nay, I will dare to say, of a Deity of bare Justice? And yet language thus fearfully misrepresenting the Faith of Christ is still used by some who are called by His name; and that it is used is known by the people of Japan.[26]
But again. There is, I have observed, much in the scheme of Christianity calculated to prove a stumbling-block to those who have been educated in the doctrines of Buddhism. Let me proceed to state some of the difficulties that would be experienced, some of the objections that would be raised, by a Buddhist of a certain amount of intellectual capacity, when confronted with the claims of the Christian Faith.
Thus, (a) the Bible. “We are unable,” the Buddhist would say, “to recognize in your Old and New Testaments an inspired revelation. Why should we accept your Scriptures, with all their alleged miracles and supernatural occurrences, [pg 082] when you reject ours? Besides, you are not agreed among yourselves as to inspiration, authenticity, translation, interpretation. Some of you, again, are for diffusing the Bible broadcast, others would keep it in the background. Again, the Christian doctrine of immortality appears to us entirely absent from the pages of the Old Testament; while even the Jews, ‘God's chosen people,’ refuse to see in the New Testament the fulfilment of the Old.”
(b) The Old Testament. “We cannot regard the story of Creation, as given in the Book of Genesis, as anything more than a myth, containing a germ of truth. Neither can we accept, as historically true, the story of the temptation in the Garden of Eden. And yet, upon this is made to rest your whole theory of the Fall, of Original Sin, and of Christian Redemption. As for the history of the Jewish people, we can see in it nothing but one long story of cruelty and bloodshed; how can a Creator, a God of Love, be supposed to have permitted and approved such things?”
(c) The Incarnation. The whole doctrine of the Incarnation is full of difficulty to the mind of an Oriental; not because of its strangeness and novelty, but owing to his very familiarity with stories of miraculous birth in his own legends.
(d) The Atonement. “Why should Jehovah require the sacrifice of His own Son?” This is a difficulty that would present itself with especial [pg 083] force to the Buddhist; by whom all life is held sacred, and whom such texts as “Without shedding of blood there is no remission,” fill with repugnance. The explanation offered by Buddhists themselves of the Christian doctrine of Atonement is, that its origin must be sought in the fact that, from the most ancient times, the idea of sacrifice, and of human sacrifice, has existed; and this explanation they go on to apply to the Holy Eucharist.
(e) Eternal Punishment. “How,” it is asked, “is your doctrine of Everlasting Punishment consistent with that of the Remission of Sins? And how, on the other hand, is not your scheme of salvation ethically wrong, if it allows people, after sinning all their lives, to be forgiven on their death-beds, that so they may enter a Paradise, wherein good and bad alike have a place?”
(f) Faith and Belief. “What right have you to ask us to believe anything that does not accord with science and experience, when you have no better opportunities of knowing than we?”
(g) Christian Ethics. “Some of these—e.g. the doctrine of the Sermon on the Mount—we admit to be good; but they are not peculiar to Christianity—our own teaching is very similar. In other of your ethics, we see only an ignoble and selfish storing of treasure; it appears to us that a good action, done for the sake of reward or gain, must entirely lose its merit.”
(h) Missionary Work. “We do not claim that our religion is the only way of salvation, but readily recognize the good points in other systems as well. You, on the contrary, appear to hold that there is no other way but your own; and indeed it is only on this supposition that we can understand the strenuous efforts which you make to bring us to abandon our religion for yours.”[27]
It forms no part of my purpose to discuss these objections; which, let me add, are merely representative, and by no means exhaustive. With many of them we are already familiar at home; and the Japanese, I would mention, are fully aware of the unbelief prevalent in England, and well acquainted with its arguments. Indeed, few English people, it is probable, have any idea how closely their history and their literature are studied by nations living at the other side of the globe, who [pg 085] are to them simply “the heathen.” Some, again, of the above objections would seem to have been suggested by imperfect and distorted statements of Christian truth. I have thought it worth while to refer to them, in the hope that the fact of such questions being raised may serve to impress upon us these two important points:—(i) the need of missionaries, at the present day, being not only men of holy and devoted lives, but also fully equal in intellectual equipment and culture to our home clergy; and (ii) the fallacy of trusting to the circulation of the Bible, as an instrument of mission work, unless it be accompanied—or rather preceded—by the teaching of the living agent.
It must not, however, be imagined that the obstacles to the progress of the Gospel in Japan are wholly, or even mainly, of the character I have referred to. Another great hindrance is most unquestionably presented in the large number of competing sects and organizations, which, here as in other countries where mission work is being carried on, address the people in the name of Christianity. It is true that Buddhists themselves are divided into numerous sects and schools; but between these there can scarcely be said to be anything of party animosity and strife. It will, indeed, be heard with satisfaction that the feeling towards one another of the various Christian bodies in Japan is, speaking generally, free from bitterness; and that [pg 086] each would appear desirous of doing its own work, in the wide field before it, without interference with the efforts of others. “The feeling here,” it was observed to me, “is nothing like so bad as it is at home.”[28] And as in England bigotry and suspicion are steadily giving place to mutual toleration and respect, so may we hope that, both in our colonies and abroad, counsels of charity may more and more prevail. Still, at the best, so long as Romanists, Orthodox, Anglicans, and Sectarians adhere to the positions they at present occupy, so long must any real unity of action be impossible; neither can peace be sought by surrender or compromise of principle. But meanwhile there is, of course, a lamentable want of compactness among the converts—as a recent writer in the Japan Mail, remarked “they are more like scattered groups of soldiers than an army”;—while the perplexity occasioned to those we are seeking to convince is terrible and great.
The following extract from Miss Bickersteth's recently-published Japan as we saw it (Sampson Low, 1893), draws an able contrast between the religious condition of Japan at the present day [pg 087] and the position of Christianity in the time of St. Francis Xavier. “It was impossible not to be struck with the present complication of religious matters in the country as compared with the days of Xavier. Then, on the one side, there was the Buddhist-Shinto creed, undermined by no Western science, still powerful in its attraction for the popular mind, and presenting a more or less solid resistance to the foreign missionary; and, on the other, Christianity as represented by Roman Catholicism, imperfect truly, but without a rival in dogma or in ritual. Now the ranks of Buddhist-Shintoism are hopelessly broken; the superstition of its votaries is exposed by the strong light of modern science, and their enthusiasm too often quenched in the deeper darkness of atheism. Christianity, though present in much greater force than in the days of Xavier, is, alas, not proportionately stronger. The divisions of Christendom are nowhere more evident than in its foreign missions to an intellectual people like the Japanese. The Greek, the Roman, the Anglican churches, the endless ‘splits’ of Nonconformity, must and do present to the Japanese mind a bewildering selection of possibilities in religious truth.”
To refer to but one other hindrance to Christian progress in Japan—which, although the last mentioned, is by no means the least serious—I mean the estimate formed by the natives of [pg 088] the practical influence of the Christian religion upon English people and upon other nations professing it. Applying to Christianity the test of its results, they urge that it has, at any rate, only very partially succeeded. For instance, the Japanese comment upon the fact that numbers of Englishmen in Japan never attend the services of their Church; and that the lives of many of them display a flagrant disregard for the principles which should regulate the conduct of Christians. Without, however, denying either the justice of these charges, or the reasonableness of the mood which advances them, I think it may be urged with fairness that the influence of Christianity on us as a nation cannot rightly be estimated in this particular way. As a rule, the Englishman can scarcely be said to appear to advantage abroad. Too often he assumes an attitude of insolent superiority to the people whose guest he is; while the position in which our countrymen are placed in a country like Japan—coupled with the freedom from restraint, so much greater than at home—has, for reasons which we need not now enter into, its peculiar difficulties. Neither is it by any means certain that a Japanese, paying a short visit to England, will gather any just impression of what hold Christianity has on us as a people. In all probability the range of his observations will be very limited and superficial; his wanderings will [pg 089] be chiefly confined to the great thoroughfares of the principal cities; while the circle of his acquaintance will, it is likely, be equally restricted, and equally unrepresentative of English life. Not that, in saying this, we would seek to excuse ourselves, or deny that there is far more truth than we could wish, and than there ought to be, in the charges brought against us. We would merely submit that there is another side to the picture which ought not, in fairness, to be overlooked. Admitting as we must, for instance, the great prevalence of infidelity in our England of to-day, there is yet to be placed over against it,—and may I not add, drawing it out into the light?—the increased activity of the Church during this last half-century, the remarkable power she has exhibited of adapting herself to meet the needs of her times, the influence for good that she has not only been in the past, but remains at the present day, in the nation at large, and in thousands and thousands of English homes. “By their fruits ye shall know them”: and Christianity must not and need not deprecate the application of that test to herself. Only, we would urge, that is not a fair judgment, which takes account only of what the Church of Jesus Christ has failed to do, without recognizing also all that, in the strength of her Divine Head, she has been permitted to accomplish.