I woke up at 7:30 with plenty of time to get some cultural value out of my short visit. Our pickup time was 2:30 that afternoon which left the whole morning to explore.
Lois and I had both been to Narita before but neither of us had visited the temple, Naritasan. The hotel manager told us at dinner the night before that the monks have a procession and a ritual a 9 o’clock every morning so we jumped on the 8:25 bus into town.
The concierge drew us a crude map that was supposed to serve as our directions to the temple. He was not good with proportions.
“You will cross over the train station and go right. You will see the temple on your left.”
He was an older Japanese gentleman but he spoke very clear, by the book English. I thought the directions sounded easy enough and in retrospect, they were technically correct. However, if I were giving directions I’d probably have mentioned how to get though the train station and I might have told you that the road bends and you shouldn’t be fooled by the broad alley which goes straight and that you’ll be walking for a little over a half a mile before you see the temple on your left. But he didn’t and we figured it out. Eventually.
After the 10-minute bus ride from the hotel it took us 30 minutes of walking in the right, then the wrong, then the right direction again before we found the Temple. We missed the procession of the monks but we got to see the ritual.
It’s called the Goma rite and the only information we had about it was from the pamphlet we grabbed from a visitors station. It says, “The Goma rite is a mysterious temple service in which we pray to Fudo Myoo [spelled with horizontal accent-lines over all the “o’s”], the main deity of Naritasan Temple, for the fulfillment of our wishes.” Not a lot to go on.
We had to take our shoes off to enter the Great Main Hall and place them in blue bags provided outside the door. We sat in the back and watched.
It’s very hard to understand the ceremony but I have trouble understanding Catholic rituals too so perhaps it’s just me. They chant, bang on a huge drum, chant some more, light a big fire and wave things through it to be blessed, chant some more, and read from a scroll.
Women were brining their purses to a monk who would run to the fire, hand them to the monk in fancier robes to be blessed in the fire. I later learned that this is because the women are traditionally in charge of the money in Japanese families. They were Goma-blessing their money.
People do a lot of strange things in a recession.
When I think of Buddhist monks, I think bald Asians with orange robes that meditate all day. Probably because I usually only see them in Kung Fu movies set in the 1600’s. None of the monks were wearing orange robes. They had an assortment of colors from black, to blue, to gold.
It was also amusing to see the modern sound system with its blinking green lights in the corner of the Great Main Hall.
After the rite was over we left the great hall with its big drums and sound system. There’s a giant urn directly in front of the Hall that burns incense. Locals were waving the smoke around their bodies, under their legs, and behind their neck (none of them got behind their ears) for good luck.
A lot of the Buddhist rituals seem to be for good luck.
We walked around for a while after that, me snapping photos like the mildly intrusive tourist I am. I try not to be but I love old stuff. Especially old stuff with historical significance.
Who doesn’t?
The history of the Temple dates back to 939 A.D. although the oldest structure standing was erected as recently as 1701 (they didn’t put a sound system in that one).
There are two Pagodas on the property. I grew up in Reading, PA- a little city that has it’s own Pagoda. It sits on top of the mountain and has red lights around each layer that are lit at night.
Seeing the two pagodas in Naritasan after growing up with Reading’s pagoda was like hopping in a Porsche when all I’d ever driven was a go-cart. Sure, go-carts are still fun but now I know what the real thing feels like. Go-carts make you grin; Porsches make you smile.
The larger of the two pagodas is called the Peace Pagoda, which is a deceiving name.
First, the pictures on the ground floor are mostly pretty violent. One in particular stands out in my memory. It depicts a dark, wild looking man (I can still see his crazy eyes) sticking a sword down the throat of a young Japanese boy. Maybe he was pulling it out- it would have the same net effect.
Second, the deity Fudo Myoo who is housed inside is not a peaceful guy. Besides being 10 feet tall and bright blue, he sits in front of a flaming background with sword and a rope.
Since all the plaques were in Japanese, we had to ask what his deal was.
We got two answers.
He’s either holding a sword to slash away material connections and a rope to bind evil doers or he’s holding the sword to slay evil doers and the rope to draw people away from material connections.
Maybe he’s just mad because he doesn’t know which he’s supposed to be doing.
On the third and fourth floors of the pagoda are thousands of tiny, hand-carved Fudo Myoos with different Japanese words beneath them. We didn’t ask about them but Lois guessed that they were probably names that families paid to have blessed- it could be good luck to have your name on a Fudo Myoo. I thought it was a valid assumption.
When we left the temple we walked through the garden. It wasn’t a garden as much as a wooded area but I’m not going to argue semantics with monks. It served the same purpose as a garden. It was quiet, peaceful, and picturesque. Lois and I were the only people there and the quiet trickle of the stream muted any stray noises which might have wandered in.
There was also a natural waterfall and who doesn’t love a good waterfall?
It was two hours since we’d gotten of the bus and we both wanted to get packed and showered. We covered the half-mile back to the bus stop pretty quickly and arrived just as the Hotel bus was pulling up.
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