Goryo Shinko – The Religion of Ghosts

Translated and Adapted from Mishu Shukyo Shisosho

From ancient times, the Japanese attributed natural disasters and plagues to the handiwork of onryo, grudge-bearing spirits of the dead who had died by violence or some other unnatural circumstance.  In order to transform these onryo from horrors into benign deities that would use their powers for the peace and prosperity, the Japanese created Goryo Shinko, the Religion of Ghosts.

About the Spirit

Spirits or souls separating from their bodies at death is a common belief across the world.  Japan is no exception.    From as far back as the distant history of the Jomon period, the Japanese have built their spiritual beliefs on ghosts and the grave.   The unleashed soul, called mitama or tameshi in Japanese, could cause an array of misfortunes.   Of particular danger were the spirits of those who died due to political intrigue, or who were defeated in war.  These spirits inflicted their revenge upon their still-living enemies.   During the Heian period, folk beliefs and rituals dealing with the wrathful dead formalized into a religion.

From Onryo to Goryo

During times of national instability, when political strife and battle dominated the country, the threat of onryo loomed large.  Any who died amidst the chaos were capable of sustaining a powerful hatred.   And this hatred was unfocused.  Onryo did not limit their revenge to those whom had wronged them in life.  The method of an onryo’s revenge; plague, fire and earthquake, did not allow for such precise targeting.

The Heian period is full of examples of these wrathful ghosts, onryo, mostly high-born and privileged in life. Fujiwara Hirotsugu, Prince Sawara, and Prince Osabe were all considered to have transformed into onryo their deaths.   To calm their raging spirits, they were posthumously raised in court rank and title, then enshrined as kami in Shinto shrines.  These rituals, it was said, transformed them from destroyers into protectors of after Japan.

This, in essence, is Goryo Shinko; the transformation of wrathful ghosts into protective entities via ritual and entitlement.  During the Heian period this religion was so pervasive there was even a ceremony in the Imperial Court welcoming new spirits into the ranks of protective spirits. According to official documents, the first such ceremony confirming goryo was on May 20th in 863CE (The 5th year of the Jyogan Era), held in Shinsenen. (From the Nihon Sandai Jitsuroku).

Examples of Goryo Shinko survive to modern Japan.  Kyoto has two ancient temples that remain devoted to Goryo Shinko: the Upper and Lower Goryo Shrines.  The Upper Goryo Shrine enshrines the Hassho Goryo (The Goryo of the Eight Districts): Emperor Sudo (Prince Sawara, son of Emperor Konin), Emperess Inoenai (Wife of Emperor Konin), Prince Osabe (Son of Emperor Konin), Fujiwara Daibunin (Fujiwara Yoshiko, mother of Prince Iyoshin), Tachibana Daibu (Tachibana Hayanari), Budaifu (Bunya Miyatamaru), the diety Honoikatzu (Sugawara Michizane), and Kibi Daijin (Kibi Makibi).  Also enshrined are Prince Shoshin, the Government Inspectors for China (Fujiwara Nakanai and Fujiwara Hirotsugu), the Emperor Sotoku, Fujiwara Yorinaga (known as the Badman of Uji), Emperor Antoku, Emperor Jyuntoku and Emperor Tsuchimikado.

While Goryo Shinko is identified with the Heian period, and the earliest records of Goryo Shinko date to this time, there is speculation that the religion was based on older traditions. Looking at purely historical records, the first known account of an onryo was Fujiwara Hirotsugu, written about in Genbo’s military history “Shoku-Nihongi”
(“The Continued Chronicles of Japan”). But there are other opinions.

In his book “Kakushita Jyujika” (“The Hidden Cross”), author Umehara Takeshi makes the unlikely (and wholly unsupported) claim that the Buddhist Prince Shotoku Taishi was an early onryo.  Another author, Yaegashi Naohiki, sees evidence of onryo activity in the decline of the heads of the Soga clan (Soga Emishi and Soga Iruke).  Another candidate for pre-Heian period onryo is put forward by Ootsu Miko, who identifies Tada Kazuomi in her books “Fusouryakuki” (“An Record of the Approximation of the Lands East of China”) and “Yakushiengi” (“The Omen of Yakushi Temple”).  Ootsu says that the true causes of historical events can be placed on karma coming back to us from future lives.   Each of these writers have some grounds for argument in their individual accounts.

Another more likely candidate is put forth by Terasaki Yasuhiro, who wrote in “Jinbutsu Sousho” (“A Library of Humanity”) that the death by small pox of four children of the Fujiwara clan was cause by the onryo of Nagaya Ookimi.  However, this still sets Goryo Shinko in the Heian period, as Nagaya Ookimi was a contemporary of Fujiwara Hirotsugu, and both of their stories were featured in Heian period compilations like “Shoku Nihongi.”  Timewise, there isn’t much difference between the two, and whether Ookimi or Hirotsugu were first, there is scant hard evidence of onryo from any period before the Heian and Nara periods.

Based not on evidence, but purely on philosophical terms, the author the author Izawa Motohiro, in his book “Gyakusetsu no Nihonshi” (“An Alternate Explanation of Japanese History”), writes that the dangerous nature of improperly worshiped ghosts is native to Japan.  It runs contrary to the influences of the ancestor cult from China.
While Izawa confirms that the Heian period is the beginning for formalized worship, he names the earlier collection of folkbeliefs Pre-Onryo Shinko.  Iwaza also uses Nagaya Ookimi and the deaths of the four Fujiwara children as an example, showing that belief in onryo existed prior to the formalized religion of the Heian period.  Izawa further advocates that Goryo Shinko should properly be called Japanese Onryo Shinko.  In truth, Izawa’s theories almost perfectly reflect statements made previously by author Umehara Takeshi.

There are many theories, but few actual articles written on ancient onryo.  One of the most basic descriptions was made by the monk Jien, who wrote that an onryo was only as powerful as its reason for appearing.  Once the spirit’s claims had been settled, it would be appeased and cease to trouble the world.  Jien’s description remains accurate, and this basic description has carried through from ancient times through Japan’s middle ages and beyond.

Goryo Shinko declined with the advent of Buddhism in Japan, during the Wars of the Northern and Southern Courts.  Buddhism’s rituals and beliefs gradually supplanted the Shinto beliefs of the Heian period, although they never vanished entirely.  In shrines such as Yanbekimiyori (Warei Jinja) and Sakura-sotzuro (Sougorei-do), goryo
were regularly enshrined and worshiped.  And even with the dominant influence of Buddhism, in the “Taiheiki” (“Record of the Taihei Clan”) the violence fo the War of the Northern and Southern Courts was said to be influenced by onryo.  The power of the dead was still blamed for the many great social upheavals in Japan.   The Genpei Gassen, were said to be caused by the onryo of Sutokuin, and still more onryo-derived conflicts are recorded in the “Hogen Monogatari” and the “Heike Monogatari.”

The Mistress of Tonbo and Nezu

Translated from Nihon no Yurei

The Ginza area of Tokyo is overflowing with local legends and gossip. This is one of them.

The restaurant itself is no longer standing, but from the Meiji era through the Taisho and Showa eras, the name Tonbo would have been familiar to any residents of the Ginza.  The popular restaurant flourished for decades, and appears as a setting in several historical accounts.  This is a story concerning the mistress of the restaurant.

As a restaurant, Tonbo was famous for the fierce loyalty of its customers.  A Tonbo customer did not stray to other establishments.  And none obeyed this code more stringently than the name named Nezu, Tonbo’s most loyal customer. Such was the extent of his patronage that the two had become synonymous.   “Nezu’s Tonbo” the restaurant was called, just as he was called “Tonbo’s Nezu.”

Now Nezu was a man of strong passions, and one of his passions was for a woman named Mochizuki.  Although they were not married, such was their relationship that Mochizuki accompanied Nezu when he took trips abroad.  It so happened that, on the day Nezu died in his home, his lady Mochizuki had happened to come calling to his house and discovered his body.   The Ginza gossip said that it was almost as if the Buddha had summoned her at that exact moment to tend to her love.  To no one’s surprise, it was only a day before Mochizuki too passed away, following Nezu into the afterlife.  Nezu must have called for her from the other world, everyone said. 

It turned out Nezu was not as loyal to his women as he was to his restaurant, for with Mochizuki also dead yet another woman, an employee of an antique shop, came forward as Nezu’s lover and offered to attend to the funeral arrangements as was her duty.  Her assistance was not long, as she too soon died and joined Nezu in the other world.

With his lovers gone, the obligation of arranging the funeral now fell to the Mistress of Tonbo.  Feeling safe that Nezu was well-comforted in death, the Mistress of Tonbo dutifully performed the purification rites and attended at the funeral of her most loyal customer.  In spite of this show of affection and duty, Nezu was not content to bring only his two lovers with him to the afterlife.

A year had passed, and on January 4th, the exact day of Nezu’s death anniversary, the Mistress of Tonbo also died.  Her funeral was on January 8th, the same day that Nezu’s funeral had been held.  Some said this was mere coincidence.

Now, the Mistress of Tonbo had no children, but she was very fond of costumes and clothing.   For reasons unknown, prior to her death the Mistress of Tonbo had already prepared her funerary wear, ordered from her favorite kimono shop.   The head clerk of this shop, a woman named Nishi, had been the one to discover the Mistress of Tonbo’s body when she stopped by to pay her traditional New Year’s greeting.  Everyone said that the Mistress of Tonbo had foreseen her own death, citing both the preparation of her funerary wear as well as the timing of the expected visit from Nishi.  After these events, Nishi of the kimono shop suddenly died.

Next up was a man named Koya.  An old friend of the Mistress of Tonbo’s father, Koya had often looked after her when she was growing up, and his presence at her funeral was taken for granted.  When Koya failed to appear, the Ginza was abuzz with gossip over the reason why, until the day of the funeral Koya’s daughter came to give her regrets and say that Koya too had passed away.

Not only had Koya died on January 4th as well, but his own funeral had been held on January 8th, and it was thought that the Mistress of Tonbo had somehow brought Koya along with her to the afterlife.  At least that is what everyone believed.

I first heard this story from my aunt, but because the legend of the Mistress of Tonbo and her loyal Nezu are so famous almost everyone is familiar with this haunting tale of coincidental death.  My aunt could not resist adding a personal touch, however, and whenever she finished the story she would say with a slight smile that there was more to the story.

During wartime, such a grand restaurant as Tonbo could not expect to operate, and it was forcibly shut down by the government and its resources re-allocated.  The Mistress of Tonbo could not stay idle, however, and in a different location she soon opened a much smaller neighborhood shop.  Such was her pride, however, that she could not bring herself to stand in the shoddy booth day-after-day taking customer orders. So the Mistress of Tonbo asked my aunt if she wouldn’t mind coming in and taking over the running of the new shop?

To my aunt, this seemed a somewhat mercenary request.  The Mistress of Tonbo would collect all the cash while my aunt did all the work.  Still, a job was a job, and my aunt mulled it over for awhile.  Finally, my aunt decided that she too had pride and that perhaps it would be for the best to recede from the company of the Mistress of Tonbo.  My aunt instead recommended Okiku, a girl who had worked at Tonbo restaurant for some time, to stand in as mistress of the new shop.  Although disappointed at my aunt’s refusal, the Mistress of Tonbo soon warmed to the idea of Okiku, and it was just a short while before they were in business together.

Of course, their little venture was cut short of January 4th of that year when the Mistress of Tonbo suddenly died.  And it was only half a year later before it was Okiku’s turn, who found that her Mistress had a pull on her in death as well as life.

My aunt dutifully attended Okiku’s funeral, but sure that Okiku would also want to drag someone along with her to the afterlife, my aunt placed two small dolls in Okiku’s coffin.  My aunt always bragged that it was she and her little dolls that ended the chain of deaths.  In such times of violent war people took such death superstitions seriously.

There was no doubt in my aunt’s mind that Okiku had taken her place in more than the restaurant.  If my aunt had not transferred that job to Okiku and completely severed her ties with the Mistress of Tonbo, then it would have been my aunt’s cold body lying in that coffin.  And surely Okiku would not have been clever enough to think of the two dolls, and the situation would have dragged on even further.

Now when you normally hear the story of Nezu and the Mistress of Tonbo, it ends with the death of the Mistress.  But my aunt liked to flavor the story with her own personal experience.  That is typical of these local legends swapped in the Ginza.  Each person twists the details, or emphasizes parts intended to reinforce the moral lesson they wish to tell, or even just to boast of some personal triumph over the supernatural.

But if you look back into folklore and history, there is some precedence to the story’s conclusion and the two dolls my aunt says she placed in Okiku’s coffin.  The ancient story of Nomi Sukune tells of a samurai who defied the custom of committing ritual suicide in order to accompany his empress into the afterworld when she died.  Instead, Sukune placed a set of unglazed clay warrior figures, called haniwa, into her coffin for company.

My aunt’s dolls served the same purpose as these haniwa, nullifying the dead person’s curse and satisfying the need for someone to accompany them to the afterlife.

The Fudaraku Pure Land

Translated from Kitaro no Tengoku to Jigoku

Mt. Fudaraku is the home of the bodhisattva Kannon.  There also is found the beautiful garden known as the Fudaraku Pure Land.

The Fudaraku Pure Land can be reached by a small boat called the utsubo-bune.   That boat primarily departs from Kumano beach in Kishu province (modern-day Wakayama prefecture).   The utsubo-bune has no windows, and instead has three or four tori gates where windows would be.  Passengers bring fruits and nuts for the journey, and the utsubo-bune has pegs on which to hang them. 

The utsubo-bune goes with the North wind, and travels onward until it reaches the Fudaraku Pure Land.

The Root Country

Translated from Kitaro no Tengoku to Jigoku

There are many different legends about what is called the Root Country (Ne no Kuni), and no one really knows for sure what the original concept was. 

According to one story, the Root Country is the deepest part of an underground land, that is to say the roots of the Earth.  This gives it the name Root Country.   Another legend says that the Root Country is the source of all vegetables and all food harvested from the soil, and that is where the name comes from.

In the Kojiki, the Record of Ancient Matters, there is a myth that records the Emperor’s visit to the Root Country, where everything was much the same as the above-ground world including a great palace.  This palace was the home of Susanoo, one of the major deities of Shinto.

Nirai Kanai

Translated from Kitaro no Tengoku to Jigoku

What the mainland of Japan called the Distant Lands (Toko no Kuni) the people of the southern islands of Okinawa referred to as Nirai Kanai.  There are still many stories remaining of this land.

 Probably the most numerous legends of Nirai Kanai are explanations of how rice farming began.  Sometimes an eagle, other times a hawk or a crane, took a grain of rice from Nirai Kanai and flew back to Japan.  In other versions it is a human who visited Nirai Kanai and brought the grain of rice back.  In one of the most unusual tales, it is a whale who brings the grain of rice from Nirai Kanai. 

 A long time ago, in Amami (Modern day Kagoshima prefecture) in a place called Omoto beach a massive 15-meter whale came swimming up.   Now this whale was wearing a kimono, and written on its flank was “From Nirai Kanai, to the parents of Omoto beach.” 

 The people of Omoto beach promptly cut into the whale’s flank, and found in his stomach the grain of rice.

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