Oyaji -
Temple in the Land of Stone

In a land of weirdly shaped rocks, where the soft tuff stone has been quarried for centuries, is a rock temple where a 700 year old Kannon image hovers over white walls. In a nearby quarry stands a huge, modern Kannon statue, proudly staring into the Tochigi plain. The modern statue may look stronger, even militant, but it is the older Kannon that touches me with its beauty...

The bus from Utsunomiya, the rather nondescript capital of Tochigi Prefecture, to Oyaji Temple, transports me into a very different landscape on its short, thirty-minute ride. After leaving the city, I notice that the fences surrounding the houses and farms are made of hewn stone, a rare commodity in Japan. Also the storehouses that stand in the gardens of the farmhouses are built from sturdy stone blocks, instead of the usual mud. Low hills appear, with fantastically craggy forms.

These hills are composed of a kind of tuff stone, soft to work, but durable and beautiful to the eyes. Oya stone, as it has been called after the temple, has been quarried here for centuries. Further on down the road from the temple, a large quarry, that is still operated, can be entered. After passing through the dusty museum room, where various implements whose real purpose will only be clear to mining experts are on display, I descend into the bowels of the earth.

I find myself in a huge, cathedral-like vault, where over the centuries the rock has been cut away. The most famous use to which Oya stones were put was to clad the surface of the former Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, designed by Frank Lloyd Wright in 1922.

The Kannon on the Wall
But on this autumn day I have not come for mere stones, nor for subterranean chambers. I have come for the temple, that I soon reach after turner a corner form the bus stop. The temple is a surprise. Under a large, heavy overhanging rock face - of the same white stone as in the quarry, and severely pockmarked - a small temple hall has been inserted, so to speak. The bright red roof contrasts with the whiteness of the stone.

It is as if the rock has widely opened its mouth and is spewing out the small temple. The building is only a front, because the real temple is formed by a large cavern in the rock. Inside, various Buddhist images have been carved in elaborate relief in the soft rock. Most impressive is the Thousand-Armed Kannon, almost 4 meters in height, who seems to float upon the rock face.

The body is slim, and the many arms sprouting from the shoulders form a halo around it. There are also several smaller images, among which a Yakushi Triad, a Shaka Triad and a Amida Triad. The images date from various periods: the Kannon is probably from the twelfth century, as is the Amida Triad; the Yakushi Triad may be a few centuries older. The Shaka is probably of more recent origin.

In contrast to China, stone Buddha's are rare in Japan, but here in Oya, the soft tuff stone has provided a perfect medium for the image carver. The images were finished off by applying clay on top of the rock, but this has partly fallen off. The face of the Kannon is not clearly visible anymore and some of the arms are mere stumps, but floating on the rock wall in the dimly lit cave, it seems like an apparition from another world.

Legend tells that a venomous snake lived among the rocks here. The villagers spoke of "Hell Valley" and greatly feared the beast. Once, three yamabushi from Mt. Yudono in Dewa (present Yamagata prefecture) happened to pass by and using their secret powers, they succeeded in subduing the snake. Afterwards, they carved the Kannon on the wall of the cave and all poisonous problems were over.

The modern Kannon statue

The Modern Kannon Statue
As long as there is stone left, people seem to go on carving. Opposite the temple is a tunnel, that brings me to another old quarry. One of the walls is graced by a 27 meter high Kannon statue made as recent as 1954. One can climb up a staircase beside it and look out over the plain from over the Kannon's head. As all Kannon statues made since the war, it is called "Peace Kannon," as a pacification for fallen soldiers.

Most such modern sculptures are singularly ugly. Oya's Peace Kannon is no exception, and certainly no match for the graceful statues inside the temple. Modern man has been spoiled by two different forms of degradation, the horror of war (daily shown on TV) and the deformation of comic books, another household item. The combination of these two different developments incapacitates us to express the peace, the quietude and the beauty that are the essence of religious sculpture. We are spiritually so deformed that we can only make statues with faces that are either strangely comical, or that show naked horror - all other expressions seem to elude us.

I return to the Oya Temple, for a last look at the Thousand-Armed Kannon that has come down to us over more than seven centuries, and enclose its true peace in my heart before I assume the journey back home.