Meiji Jingu: On Sacred Ground

Meiji Jingu Ichino Torii is pictured here. Gates like this are called torii and are found throughout Japan at the entrances and within Shinto shrines. As entrance ways, torii mark the spot where visitors pass from the mundane world of humanity to the sacred ground of the shrine. The torii shown here stands at the entrance to the Meiji Jingu (明治神宮) in Tokyo, one of Japan’s most important shrines honoring the spirits of the Emperor Meiji and the Empress Shoken, his wife. After passing beneath the torii, one walks through a breathtakingly beautiful wooded area before approaching the shrine itself several hundred meters from the entrance.

The sacred path to Meiji Jingu.

Born in the sequestered imperial compound in Kyoto in 1852, Emperor Meiji ascended to the throne in 1867 and ruled until his death in 1912. “Meiji” is not the birth name of the young man who became the emperor of Japan at age 15; rather it is his reign or era name that was assigned to his reign in 1868. A tradition that originated in China more than 2000 years ago, the Japanese have adopted and adapted the era name concept to suit their own purposes. Since I am definitely not up to speed about how this complicated scheme actually works, suffice it to say that imperial era names serve as a kind of calendar, allowing historical events to be dated by the year of the reign era in which they occur. This system remains in use today in Japan.

A man cleans the sacred path with a song by Empress Shoken and a poem by Emperor Meiji in the background.

Meiji’s reign encompassed a period of rapid change and transformation in Japan. For hundreds of years prior to his ascending the throne, Japanese emperors lived in seclusion in Kyoto where their functions were ceremonial; they took no part in actually ruling the islands we call Japan. Political power was in the hands of a Shogun supported by feudal vassals called Daimyo. Pre-Meiji Japan was a closed society that had limited contact with nearby China and Korea, and even less with peoples elsewhere in the world. Foreign traders were limited to doing business in a single city: Nagasaki.

As a schoolboy, I learned of how in 1852 President Millard Fillmore dispatched US Navy Commodore Matthew Perry to Japan at the head of a squadron of gunboats, his mission to demand that the Japanese open their country to US trade. We were taught to be proud of this example of our country fulfilling its Manifest Destiny, how it illustrated the growing power of the United States in world affairs, and our civilizing influence that brought progress to a benighted, backward land. I have no idea if American school children today learn about the “opening of Japan” and, if they do, how this story is presented. I do know that I now view the tale of Commodore Perry as an early example of arrogant American militarism and imperial designs bent on imposing American power on another people.

This tea house, located in a quiet garden off the wooded path leading to Meiji Jingu, was built by Emperor Meiji for his wife Empress Shoken.

In the event, Japan’s isolated, closed system was destabilized by Perry’s arrival and the threat inherent in the steam-powered warships he brought with him. His visit and those of various Europeans during this time period led to internal turmoil and finally helped to trigger great changes that began with Emperor Meiji’s ascension to the throne. His 45 year reign is referred to as the Meiji Restoration, and during Meiji’s reign the emperor emerged from seclusion and began taking a direct part in the governing of Japan. Beginning its pursuit of modernity with a mature, highly sophisticated culture and society, but well behind the United States and the great powers of Europe with respect to science and technology, Japan developed into an industrial and military powerhouse in a matter several decades. Japan’s rapid rise to great power status was one of many factors that set the world on a path to devastating global conflict in the first half of the 20th century.

Mejii Jingu.
The original shrine was destroyed by bombing at the end of WWII. This majestic reconstruction was completed in 1958.

Initially, it was advisers of the young emperor driving change, but as Emperor Meiji aged, he became directly involved in decision making. Not long before heading to Japan, I bought Emperor of Japan: Meiji and His World, 1852–1912, a book by the late Donald Keene, a preeminent American scholar of Japanese literature, culture, and history. Keene’s introduction to the book suggests Meiji was a complex man, enigmatic in many respects, whose life and historical record are very difficult to assess. One thing is certain: Professor Keene went to great lengths in his effort to understand Emperor Meiji. The digital edition of the book weighs in at about 950 pages, and while I am definitely interested, so far I have not gotten up the gumption to dive in.

Russian Embassy, Beijing, China

Looking for something else, I happened to run across this image of the huge Russian embassy compound in Beijing. Beyond the fact that China’s relationship with Russia is in the news these days, there is no particular reason for posting this photo. It was taken in February of 2012, several months before I departed from Beijing and China for good.

For more than 200 years the site was home to the Russian Orthodox Ecclesiastical Mission, which acted as a sort of unofficial representative of the Russian government. After the Russian revolution in 2017, people fleeing Russia found refuge at the mission. In the 1950s after the establishment of the PRC, the Mission was closed and the property and buildings were turned over to the USSR. An embassy housing the USSR’s and later Russia’s diplomatic mission to China was built and opened for use in 1959.

Government House, Annapolis, MD

Annapolis is the capital city of Maryland and home to the US Naval Academy. It is a lovely, manicured, very affluent small city. The Maryland State House, the oldest state capitol building in continuous service in the US (since 1772) was covered in scaffolding while it got a facelift. So I had to make do with this photo of the entrance to Government House, Maryland’s governor’s mansion, located across the street from the State House.

In one of those historical ironies that I very much enjoy, the next resident of Government House will be Maryland Governor-elect, Wes Moore; he will be the state’s first African-American governor. The man who designed Government House, completed in 1870, was named Richard Snowden Andrews, an architect and, during the Civil War, a general in the Confederate States Army. Hope you are rolling over in your grave, traitor.

Poster Art, Ho Chi Minh City

Poster Art, Ho Chi Minh City

You see political poster art of the sort in this picture everywhere in Vietnamese cities, from billboards on the tops of buildings to posters along the walls of construction sites. This particular poster, according to a Vietnamese friend, announces the selection of a Party committee for Ho Chi Minh City for a five year term and celebrates Vietnam’s industrialization and modernization efforts. And the poster urges citizens to do their part to support modernization of the country.

Red Flag, Yellow Star, Hanoi

Red Flag, Yellow Star, Hanoi

The building in the background is the Imperial Citadel of Thang Long, part of the imperial structures that served as the capital of Dai Viet from the 11th to the 18th century. The building, very much in a Chinese style, is in the center of Hanoi. The boys in their bright tee shirts with a yellow star against a red background – the Vietnamese national flag – were part of a coed group of 20ish kids, I presume a university class on an outing. All of the boys were wearing the red tees. I rather liked the contrast: young people wearing the symbol of modern, socialist Vietnam against a traditional background representing the country’s imperial past.

 

Boston City Hall

Boston City Hall

Boston City Hall opened to a lot of fanfare (and controversy) in 1968. A lot of people saw it as a dramatic symbol of a modern, new Boston. As I recall, that is how it looked to me when I moved to Boston in 1970. Almost 50 years later, the building sure has lost its luster. It looks ugly and out of place in Boston’s otherwise people friendly, rather intimate downtown. Brutalist Modern indeed. When I visited recently, a friend told me Boston is thinking about tearing the place down and building a new city hall, something more comfortable and on a more human scale. Good idea.