Hinata Yakushi -
Tokyo Mountain Temple

Tokyo is encircled by low mountain ranges where in the past the yamabushi, the ascetic mountain monks, came to practice their austerities. Despite incursions of the modern world, a sacred atmosphere still lingers around their peaks, in their forests and in their temples. West of Tokyo rise Takao and Mitake, in the northwest stands Mitsumine and the southwest is dominated by Oyama, the largest and most magnificent of these Tokyo mountains.

Oyama (1,252 m.) means "Big Mountain," and it does its name honor. When approaching from Tokyo, you suddenly see the sprawl of the Tanzawa mountains standing like a screen on the Sagami Plain. Oyama forms the southeastern end of the range and rises straight from the flat plain. It is not surprising that local farmers believed this impressive mountain was sacred. They saw how Oyama gathers the clouds around its peak and makes them rain down upon the farmland in the plain - another name for the mountain is Afuri-yama, "Rain Mountain" - and must have naturally folded their hands in gratitude.

The yamabushi, who came to practice austerities and secret rites among Oyama's crags, had several gateways to enter the mountain. Besides the old Oyama Temple, that originally stood on the location of the present Afuri Shrine, the main entrance was the easily accessible Hinata Yakushi Temple, on a separate, low hill at the foot of Mt. Oyama.

A Temple on New Year's Day
I come to Hinata Yakushi temple on New Year's Day, one of the rare opportunities that the main image, the Hinata Yakushi or Healing Buddha, can be viewed. The entrance of the path leading up to the temple is only twenty minutes by bus from Isehara. After stepping from the bus, I miss this path: it lies behind me, in the direction from which I have come. But instead of looking back, I press ahead over the road in front of me.

This appears to be a new road made for cars and a long line of glittering metal crawls up the mountain, while another comes slithering down. The road is too narrow to pass each other. Illegally parked cars add to the problem. I set a brisk pace and weave my way through the traffic jam, wondering at those drivers who are too lazy to walk the short way from the bus stop, where there is after all a parking lot. Now they sit grumbling in their small metal cubicles.

I reach the temple from a side entrance, where the new concrete building stands that houses the statue of the Healing Buddha I have come to see. It is housed in a separate wooden cabinet, that is only opened on special occasions. Today the doors of the shrine are wide open and the Hinata Buddha smiles down upon me when I enter.

In front of the altar two priests are conducting a service for members of the local community. People sit in a circle on small stools and I quietly blend in behind them. The advice one of the priests gives after the sutra chanting and blessing of the community, suits present-day Japan. "Don't work so hard, that you fall ill," he warns, alluding to death from fatigue, karoshi, that is regularly reported in the newspapers in this period of economic downturn.

"And don't only work. Some people slave away all their lives without a moment for themselves. When they finally wake up, they realize that life has already gone by."

The path to the temple

Healing Buddha and Daruma Dolls
When the improvised sermon is over and the people disperse, I stand up to inspect the statues. Because of the altar table placed in front, I can not get very close to the cabinet, but still manage to get a good view of the small and delicately carved Yakushi statue, with its two attendants of Kannon and Seishi. These statues are famous examples of the so-called natabori technique, where the rough cuts made by the chisel were not smoothened away, thus giving the mixed impression of crudeness and naturalness.

The small face of the Healing Buddha wears an expression of meekness and compassion. The figures standing elsewhere in the hall are larger and therefore more impressive: life-size sculptures of Amida, the Buddha of the Western Paradise, another Yakushi statue, and the fearsome Twelve Generals, protectors of the Healing Buddha.

Next I find my way to the Main Hall, which is capped by a thick roof of thatch. The smoke of incense billows through its dusky interior that is only lighted by faint candles. People line up to receive paper strips revealing their fortune for the New Year. Red and white arrows, meant to ward of evil in the home are also in eager demand, as are Daruma dolls. These Daruma dolls are so finely made, that I am tempted to buy one in addition to the protective arrow, as a double insurance for the New Year.

Back to the bus I follow the original path, that I missed on the way up. In the faltering daylight I grope my way through an atmospheric mix of stone steps, rocks and ancient trees, climbing steeply down to an old temple gate. One of the priest's messages still rings in my ears: realize the importance of here and now - savor every moment, because before you know it, life has been rushed through.

That is a good note to start the new year on.