Month 9, Day 28: The Shinto View of Death

What happens to us after death? If you ask a Christian, he’ll tell you that good people go to heaven and bad people go to hell. A Hindu will say that our soul comes back, in another body, to take another crack at life—over and over again, until we get it right. An atheist will tell you that nothing happens after death. We’re nothing, just worm food. (That is so comforting!)

So what does Shinto say happens after death?

Shinto tells us that the purpose of human life is to work toward self-purification and wisdom, doing our best to become bright and shiny—just like the kami, or spirits/deities. And the effort to emulate the kami doesn’t stop when we die.

After death, we go to one of the various realms of the dead. There are a few:

The land of root or the eternal land (nenokuni or tokoyonokuni)

This is the place where the soul obtains eternal life—the realm from which all new human lives originate. Sometimes referred to as the “land of mother,” the land of root or eternal land was often viewed in ancient Shinto as a place located far away, across the ocean. Somehow, you cross the ocean and end up in eternity.

The land of root lies somewhere across the ocean.

Ugh. That stinks. I really hate getting my hair wet.

The hidden or astral world (kakuriyo)

Although most of my research says that the hidden world is not mentioned in any ancient Shinto texts, the idea is still supposed to be very old. The hidden world is depicted as a place that is a lot like our own world—except it’s invisible. Many Shinto followers say that the spirits of our ancestors live in the hidden world, and that it overlaps with our own, which lets them maintain some connection to us and, perhaps, help us out in our daily lives.

The land of the dead or Hades (yominokuni)

Now we’re getting into more familiar territory. This realm, believed to exist deep below ground, is a lot like the underworld we know from other cultures, like ancient Greek mythology. In Shinto, death is considered unclean, so the idea of the dead making their home far below the surface of the Earth, deep in the filth, seems pretty appropriate.

The mountain

This realm is where the kami hang out. It’s also the place where the dead, after completing their spiritual education successfully, finally get the chance to become guardian kami themselves—ancestral spirits who will watch over and protect their descendants for generations.

I hope the mountain of the kami has trees with pretty orange leaves like this. I really like orange.

Okay, so we’ve got all these realms for the dead to “enjoy,” but what exactly does Shinto say happens after death?

When we die, the spirits of our dead friends or relatives come to greet our soul and give us instructions for handling the next stage in our journey. The ancestral spirits protect our souls from danger (apparently, the newly dead soul is especially vulnerable, although none of the books I’ve read spell out exactly what the danger really is—which is weird, because to me, it’s kind of like, once you’re dead, the danger’s pretty much over).

Anyway, our dead friends serve as guides for our souls as we prepare to enter the realms of the dead, or the other world (referred to in Japanese as yukai).

Where we end up depends on how pure and clean and spiritually aware we already are. The better our soul is prepared, the higher the realm we get to start off in.

People who were rotten, evil jerks in life (you know the kind of person I mean) have a lengthy process of purification to undergo before they can even join the lowest of the realm of the dead. It’s not hell, since they aren’t there to be punished and they aren’t there for all eternity. Bad souls just take longer to reach the higher realms than good ones. But even a really good soul still has work to do.

After we die, we receive intensive training from higher-level souls. And Shinto says it’s not easy. We have to put in a lot of time and effort to keep advancing from one level to the next—kind of like getting through school (yuck). With enough hard work, we eventually become kami ourselves, ancestral spirits.

I don’t know. The Shinto view of death sounds like an awful lot of work to me. And for what? So I can eventually have the power to make miniscule interventions in the lives of my descendants, sending signs they might not even notice? That just sounds pointless—and really, really boring.

I just hope there’s some other stuff to do, up there on the mountain of the kami, because, at this point, I’m definitely NOT looking forward to it.

Month 9, Day 22: How Shinto Differs from Other Religions

Shinto may seem a little bit strange to people who don’t know much about it—and perhaps even to those who do. As author Ian Reader explains, Shinto “seems to lack many of the elements that are commonly associated with other religious traditions. . . .”

So, how is Shinto different? Here are just a few ways:

•          Shinto has no founder or figure to worship

Although a few major world religions—such as Hinduism, for example—can’t be traced to a single founder, it’s somewhat unusual. Most religions were developed or introduced by particular people, like Jesus Christ for Christianity or the Prophet Muhammad for Islam. But Shinto has no founder, because, as author Motohisa Yamakage writes, “teaching does not come from human beings.”

Shinto is especially unusual because it lacks not only a historical person who is viewed as its founder but also a single God or pantheon of gods for followers to worship. Sure, Shinto has its kami—its deities or spirits—but because, in theory, all human beings can become kami after death, it’s impossible to group the kami into any sort of coherent list or hierarchy.

•          Shinto has no doctrines or laws

Because Shinto has no founder, there has never been a single human being to set down “laws” for believers to follow, so the faith has no concrete doctrines that people are expected to adhere to. With the exception of the emphasis on cleanliness and purification, Shinto has no real, set-in-stone rules like most other religions.

And, unlike, say, Judaism, which outlines specific, detailed prohibitions in terms of diet and other aspects of daily life, Shinto has only a general sense of taboo in one area: unclean things, including death and blood. This lack of doctrine gives Shinto believers the freedom to experience their faith and their interactions with the kami in their own way.

•          Shinto has no scripture

Most religions have sacred scripture that followers can read to learn about and experience their faith—its origins, legends, and rituals. Unlike the three great “religions of the book” (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam), Shinto has no core text that describes believers’ relationship with God.

Although Shinto does have some collections of myths and legends, including the Kojiki (“Records of Ancient Matters”) and the Nihon Shoki or Nihongi (“The Chronicles of Japan”), these texts are not considered canonical scripture. They may talk about the kami, but they’re just nice stories—not sacred texts handed down directly by God.

•          Shinto has no idols or icons

Most religions have some form of object that serves as a focal point for worship, even if most don’t suggest that the object itself is divine. Christians have crucifixes or statues of Christ or the saints, Buddhists venerate images of the Buddha or the bodhisattvas, and Hindus have a wide and colorful array of sculptures and images of their many gods.

But there is pretty much never a sculpted image of a particular deity in a Shinto shrine. Instead, the focal point for Shinto worshippers is nature itself or perhaps the mirror, or kagami, that is housed inside a shrine to represent the pure, reflective nature of the kami.

Maybe I’m still just a little Catholic girl deep down, but this strikes me as a bad thing. I kind of love looking at statues, whether they’re religious or not. But hey, that’s just me.

•          Shinto has no formal organization

There is no Shinto church, at least in the same sense that there is a Christian church or even a Baha’i faith. Unlike, for instance, the Roman Catholic Church, with its centralized hierarchical structure, where everything and everyone is organized under the authority of the Pope, Shinto seems completely un-unified.

Villages or communities may have their own Shinto shrines, but there is no Shinto leader and little, if any, unity among Shinto believers. Despite efforts by the national government, especially during the Meiji Era, to control and organize Shinto as the official Japanese faith, most shrines today are independent and controlled only by the local people who use them.

•          Shinto has no concept of sin

There is a common saying in Japan: “Shinto teaches neither salvation nor sin.” Almost every other world religion has some idea of sin—even if they don’t believe that human beings are inherently evil or sinful.

But Shinto is different. It not only has no concept of sin, but it has no notion of karma, where we receive reward or punishment for our behavior, either in this life or some other. As Motohisa Yamakage writes, “Shinto is a religion without guilt, which assumes the essential goodness of humanity and each individual’s potential for good.”

•          Shinto is not universal

With the possible exception of African and Native American faiths, all the religions I’ve explored so far this year have attempted to reach out to everyone in the world. Although each may have originated in a particular country or region, they all tried to appeal to universal values, such as love, justice, and equality, and to spread their ideals to anyone who might accept them.

Shinto, on the other hand, has no universalizing tendency. It was born in Japan, it focuses on Japan, and it has made no real attempt to spread beyond Japan’s borders. Though some Shinto shrines do exist outside of Japan—for example, in Hawaii (and in my living room, at least for this month)—Shinto is, and will likely remain, closely associated with Japan and its people.

At the same time, Shinto does not lack tolerance for other faiths. In fact, because it has no dogma and no central structure, it is uniquely flexible. Shinto says that all people can work to improve themselves and, one day, after death, become kami. So, in essence, Shinto believes that we are all one—we all hold the exact same potential. And that’s kind of nice.

Month 9, Day 18: A Shinto Prayer of Purification

The idea of being pure and clean—both physically and spiritually—is a cornerstone of the Shinto faith.

It’s essential to wash thoroughly in a ritualistic manner before approaching a Shinto shrine. If you try asking favors of the kami—the spirits or deities—while you’re in an unclean state, you’re just going to make them angry. And, like the Incredible Hulk, you wouldn’t like them when they’re angry.

Some Shinto shrines have a special water fountain, called a temizuya, where worshippers can wash their hands and rinse their mouths, purifying themselves before attempting to interact with the kami.

I don’t have a special temizuya, but my bathroom sink seems to be doing the trick. Besides, if water alone isn’t enough to achieve ritual-level purity, there are Shinto prayers of purification you can say to help rid yourself of the impurities that tend to gather on your body and soul as you go about your daily life.

Here’s an example of a Shinto purification prayer, called Misogi harai no kotoba:

By graciously pronouncing the name of Izanagi no okami, who purified himself by ablution in the calm sea in the morning sun, and the names of all the purification-Kami who came into existence during this purification, I express my humble wish to be purified myself from all disasters, mishaps, transgressions, faults, and defilements.

I ask all purification-Kami to forward my request of purification to amatsukami (heavenly Kami), kunitsukami (earthly Kami), and yaoyoruzu no kami (the myriad other Kami). Most reverently, I entreat all Kami to have my wish fulfilled.

I don’t know. All this emphasis on being clean and pure is making me feel like I’m dirty all the time, even when I’m fresh out of the shower. I’m a little worried that Shinto is going to turn me into a compulsive shower-taker. Of course, even as I write this, I’m wearing a pair of grungy sweatpants and a T-shirt with orange dust sprinkled on it, left over from the cheese doodles I ate at lunch. So maybe I’ll be just fine—if a little sloppy.

Month 9, Day 14: Benzaiten, or Benten—Shinto Goddess of the Arts

Every Shinto shrine is supposed to be dedicated to a particular kami, or deity. So, when I made my kamidana—my personal household shrine—I did a little research to figure out which kami was right for me.

If you don’t have an ancestral kami to work with, you’re supposed to choose one who is linked to your profession or something you care about, like your homeland. For example, a lot of Shinto followers worship Inari, who was originally the god of rice and agriculture, but has taken on the role of being a protector of business and industry. (Apparently, even the gods have to keep up with improvements in technology.)

It didn’t take long for me to choose Benzaiten (who is sometimes also called Benten). Just to give you an idea of what she looks like, here’s a picture (see below). And don’t make fun—I drew it myself, and as we all know by now, I’m no artist.

As you can see in the picture, Benzaiten is often portrayed holding a lute or a biwa (a Japanese mandolin). She is supposed to be a beautiful woman who, some say, can take on the form of a serpent. Sometimes, she is depicted with a torii—the gateway to a Shinto shrine—on top of her head, like a little crown.

One of the most popular Shinto deities, Benzaiten is the goddess of all things that flow: music, art, words, knowledge, and, of course, water. Because I’m a writer and I’m always trying to expand my knowledge, I thought Benzaiten was the perfect choice for my kamidana. Besides, as you can tell from the picture above, I can certainly use a little work in the art department, so maybe Benzaiten can help me out there, too.

There’s another reason why Benzaiten is a good goddess for my Shinto shrine. She’s the Japanese version of the Hindu goddess Sarasvati, who was one of my patron deities back in January when I was working on paganism. So there’s a nice bit of continuity there.

The Japanese began to worship Benzaiten during the 6^th to 8^th centuries, after reading about her (as the Indian goddess Sarasvati) in Chinese translations of a piece of literature called the Sutra of Golden Light.

Once she became a Shinto kami, Benzaiten was associated with water and snakes. Most of her shrines are found near water or even on islands, smack dab in the middle of water.

As one of the Seven Lucky Gods of Japan (and the only female deity among them), Benzaiten is believed to bring good fortune—increasing the “flow” of her followers’ money. (Man, I really hope she can help me out with that!)

In some places, such as the Zeniari Benten Shrine in Kamakura City, people wash their money in the waters at the shrine, hoping the goddess Benzaiten will make it reproduce and flow more freely.

Huh. I wonder if that would work for me. With my luck, I’d probably just destroy the little bit of cash I have left. Somehow, I doubt a few wet $20 bills will do much to improve my fortune. But still, it might be worth a try.

Month 9, Day 12: Kami—The Deities or Spirits of Shinto

 

The word kami refers to the local deities revered in Shinto, Japan’s indigenous faith. It’s a word that can be either singular or plural, depending on whether you’re talking about one specific god or the whole mess of them.

As author Ian Reader explains in Simple Guides: Shinto:

“. . . [K]ami indicates or refers to a natural force or manifestation of energy or life-force within given objects or places, and to spirits and signs of spiritual energy within the world. It can also refer to, and includes, the divinities which . . . gave life to the earth and . . . the spirits of humans who have been influential or gifted in life and whose spirits may be transformed into kami . . . so that their gifts may continue to benefit the world.”

Kami can be found anywhere—in the natural landscape, in people, in animals. Anything that gives us a sense of awe or wonder may very well be kami.

Kami can be found in mountains, waterways, and other features of the natural world.

Some kami are local clan or family deities, who are believed to protect particular groups of people. These may have once been members of the clan who ascended to the status of kami after they died. Others, like Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess, are viewed as universal deities (at least for all of Japan).

So, if there are lots of kami, does that mean Shinto is polytheistic? Well, it’s kind of like it was when we talked about Hinduism: The answer is both yes and no.

As Motohisa Yamakage writes in The Essence of Shinto: Japan’s Spiritual Heart:

“Kami are . . . not necessarily deities in the sense that is usually understood, but possess a wide variety of spiritual powers and attributes. Shinto can therefore be described as polytheistic in the context of its amatsukami [heavenly kami—which are only one of three types of kami, the other two being ‘earthly kami’ and ‘myriad other kami’—you’ve gotta love the Japanese sense of specificity!], who correspond most closely to the idea of ‘gods.’ However, it is also important to remember that all Kami are interconnected and spring from a single source—the essence of Shinto.”

Confusing? Yeah, maybe a little. The point is that not all kami are gods in the bold, broad sense of “God.” Some—maybe most—are minor spirits that inhabit creatures or places, giving Shinto a bit of an animistic flair.

I like the idea of kami. The kami who appear in Shinto stories are a lot like the gods you read about in Greek mythology. They fight, they scheme, they have sex (sorry, Christianity, but horny gods are just a LOT more fun!).

The kami also depend on us, on human beings, both for their strength and, in some cases, in order to become kami at all. Our prayers and veneration have the power to transform a dead person’s spirit into a full-fledged kami.

I love the idea that we kind of have a vote when it comes to who gets to become a god and who doesn’t. It’s so deliciously democratic. Maybe I need to start campaigning for votes (or, rather, prayers) now so I’ll have a better chance of becoming a kami myself after I’m dead. I bet I could give that Amaterasu a run for her money.