Each time I go to Kyoto, I visit Honen-in to pay my respects to old Honen, the teacher of Shinran. Honen-in is a small Buddhist temple with beautiful grounds, located on the “Tetsugakusha na Michi” (“Philosophers’ Walk”) in the eastern mountains (hills, really) of old Kyoto. If I am fortunate enough to arrive on a day the giant Buddha (Amida Buddha, the Buddha of Infinite Light) is being aired, I can go in and see it. Only a few devotees will be there; very few people and almost no tourists go to Honen-in, just down the road from the popular Silver Pavilion.
Honen’s student, Shinran, is certainly one of the two dominant figures in Japan’s religious history, and Shin Buddhism (remembrance of Amida Buddha through repetition of the Nembutsu, Namu Amida Butsu) is by far the largest Buddhist sect — in fact, the largest religion if we exclude Shintoism from consideration as religion — in Japan. Zen is called a religion of “Self -Power” and has always attracted small numbers while having great cultural influence. Shin (and each branch
of it) is a religion of “Other Power,” with complete dependence on the vows made by Amida Buddha aeons ago, before he became the Buddha of Infinite Light.
Shinran came to Honen after many troubled years as a monk, searching for, and not finding, peace in a different Buddhist sect, Tendai (from the Chinese T’ien T’ai). With Honen, he quickly succeeded in his search and found much more.
Honen was born a Samurai, a noble of the warrior caste. His father was killed in a duel. As he was dying, he said to his son, “According to the code of the samurai, you must avenge my death. I do not want you to do this. I want you to shave your head, become a Buddhist monk, and work for the salvation of the man who killed me.” This is, I imagine, one of the most remarkable pronouncements in history.
A samurai did not question his father’s judgment. Honen became a monk, later taught Shinran, and because of that, Jodo Shinshu and its devotees are found throughout the world. Is it any wonder I go there to pay respects to old Honen?
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Years ago, on a visit to Los Angeles, I stayed at the Kipling Residence for the elderly because it was inexpensive and would furnish me with meals. I am an early riser, and on my first morning there, I was the first to enter the large dining room that seated about 150. As I sat at a table, looking at the menu, an elderly woman entered and stood beside me. “Won’t you join me for breakfast?” I asked pleasantly, pointing at the seat across from me.
“You’re sitting in my chair,” she replied.
Startled, I looked at the back of the chair to see if it had anyone’s name on it; it didn’t.
“Be my guest,” I replied, standing and walking to another table.
It was ironic that she was so bound that she could not eat anywhere else, particularly in light of the sign behind the desk in the lobby, which said: “Habit is the enemy of old age.”