Seeing the Giant Statue at Narushima Bishamon-do, June 2015
After visiting the Man Tetsugoro Memorial Museum, I was just about to enter the Towa IC on the Kamaishi Expressway to head to my next destination, Hanamaki, when I suddenly noticed a sign by the side of the road that read 'Narushima Bishamon-do.' In an instant, the giant statue I had seen in photographs years ago came to mind. It was a Bishamonten statue I had wanted to see ever since I read Junzo Karaki's book 'Azuma Michinoku' nearly 40 years ago. If it was nearby, there was no reason not to change my plans and go see it. Guided by the stone lanterns donated by local residents that lined the road, I arrived at the Bishamon-do in no time.
As I entered the grounds and climbed the slope, a group of elderly women was coming down. One of them exclaimed, 'Oh, I saw something amazing,' her eyes wide with wonder, her voice filled with awe. The sheath hall (saya-do) was located at the end of a dim path surrounded by trees beside the shrine. Recalling the woman's words, I hesitated for a moment, but once inside, in the dim light, there stood the Bishamonten statue, its height seemingly piercing the high ceiling. At 4.73 meters tall, it is the largest single-wood Bishamonten standing statue in Japan and is designated as a National Important Cultural Property. It is said to have been created in the mid-Heian period (late 10th to early 11th century). When I stood about 30 degrees to the right of the center, our eyes met, and a chill ran down my spine. It is a statue of overwhelming power that convinces me it must have been the work of a master Buddhist sculptor from Kyoto.
According to one theory, the Mikumano Shrine, where this statue is housed, was founded in 802, after the Battle of Aterui, when Sakanoue no Tamuramaro prayed to the Kumano Sanzan in Kii for the pacification of Oshu and, following his victory, enshrined the deities of the three mountains here. While the statue itself is dated to the mid-Heian period, it seems to have been carved by likening the hero Sakanoue no Tamuramaro—who was revered by both friend and foe alike—to Bishamonten, the guardian deity of the north and one of the Four Heavenly Kings. The material might have been a giant tree from the land itself. To stretch my imagination further, perhaps it was an object of simple faith for the descendants of the Emishi who continued to live on this land, a faith rooted in the fear of nature. They cut it down, carved an idol that looked just like Sakanoue no Tamuramaro, and made it an object of worship. One cannot help but feel an intimidating intent backed by military force in that act.
This statue takes a unique form, standing on the shoulders and palms of the Earth Goddess (Jitennyo). What is particularly striking is the expression of the Earth Goddess, who reminds me of a plump and sturdy woman of the Tohoku region; her eyes are closed, and no emotion can be read from her face. Junzo Karaki remarked, 'That expressionless face looked like the end of submission.' The two demons, which are traditionally supposed to be trampled underfoot, are not even supporting the Earth Goddess; they stand alone on either side, looking like the pathetic figures of Emishi soldiers who have had everything taken from them and have fallen to their knees with nothing left to do.
Eventually, this region would fall under the influence of the Oshu Fujiwara clan. I have visited Hiraizumi, their center of power, many times. Indeed, the Amida-do and various Buddhist statues, adorned with the magnificent decorations of the Konjikido, are in no way inferior to the heritage of Fujiwara culture that embodies the Pure Land thought of Kyoto—in fact, I think they are even superior. However, Junzo Karaki speaks of an ambivalent feeling, reading the inner heart of Kiyohira, who, even after becoming the hegemon of the northern lands rivaling Kyoto and Kamakura, could only express his power through a culture based on the capital. It is similar to how people living in the countryside today end up being more on the cutting edge of trends than city dwellers. When I think that it has been this way since long ago, the magnificent group of Buddhist statues at Chuson-ji also begins to look somewhat fragile and lonely.
