"Tariki: Embracing Despair, Discovering Peace"
(2001), by Hiroyuki Itsuki, Kodansha:
Tokyo
A review by Kenneth Mullen
As
rare as the blooming of a mandarava flower is the appearance of a book on
Shin Buddhism in a Glasgow
bookstore. So discovering Itsuki's book was a real joy. There are eight parts to the book, some chapter headings being
particularly evocative: "The Ultimate Negative Thinker," "A Single Drop of
Water in a
Mighty
River,"
"Waiting
for Tariki to Blow."
Each of these chapters contains short contemplations on a wide
range of topics.
Itsuki
talks about the radical negativism of Buddha Shakyamuni’s original
philosophy. From such a
perspective the only way to go is up. This is a good starting point, indeed the best starting point for
people who may be near to despair. Such
an approach clearly demonstrates the power of the Buddha.
The
author’s vivid memories of his childhood at the time of the defeat of
Japan
are very moving. He stresses
the lessons which he learned from his own and others lives as refugees. He vividly describes changes and reversals in fortune.
This can be an important counter to the all too easy development of
human arrogance. Itsuki sees
himself as ‘one of the bad guys’ and shows how the sinner depends on
the life of the good. He
clearly presents the crucial lesson about the impossibility of separating
out the good from the evil in a person. This first part to the book, full of personal reminiscences, is
excellent. However, these tend
to diminish both in frequency and also in the feeling of personal depth as
the book continues.
A
fair proportion of the text is a clear exposition of the main tenets of
Jodo Shinshu teaching. This is very admirable, and gives a good view for a westerner of an
‘insider’s’ view of Other Power Buddhism. The book is particularly good on the strengths of Rennyo and his
importance for the modern world. I agree with Itsuki when he talks about the importance of listening
to, and hearing the Name. He talks of ‘The School of the Ear’ and states: ‘Aren’t
true knowledge and understanding things that must be spoken aloud, passed
on from the mouth of a speaker to the ear of a listener?’ (p. 134).
He says this in reference to his own many teachers throughout his
life and also to the way in which Rennyo’s ‘Ofumi’ were read aloud
to a large group. But speaking and listening can also be related to our own chanting
of the nembutsu and hearing the Name of the Buddha.
Towards
the end of the book his thoughts turn towards Catholicism and Lutheranism
and touch on a crucial topic: the old debate about the importance of works
versus faith. His discussion
however omits any mention of Calvinism and it is with Calvin that faith
became supreme. This need not
be a dry point of argument as any propagation of Jodo Shinshu in
Europe
will indeed encounter previous religious dialectics. And it is with the legacy of Calvin as much as Luther that northern
Europe,
particularly
Scotland,
continues to struggle. Rather
than one or the other we may wish to posit the primacy of faith over
works; that works (and can we include saying the nembutsu here) are
carried out as an expression of gratitude.
Again
the author states that ‘sin’ rather than ‘shame’ is closer to the
Shin mentality, a mentality of the peasant rather than the warrior or
aristocrat. This also brings
Jodo Shinshu closer to a western perspective. However, as has already been pointed out recently by Jedrzejewska,
such terms as sin and faith may rest uneasily with a western European
audience. Faith, (shinjin),
has however been given other translations, for example ‘deep mind’.
And these may be more palatable.
Throughout,
Itsuki continues to sound a sombre tone and this may have fitted well with
the depressed mood of
Japan
at the time of its first publication, a Japan which was experiencing a downturn in its economy.
This also corresponds to the gloom many of us continue to feel
after the events of September 11th. However,
as Itsuki’s book clearly demonstrates, in the deepest darkness Amida’s
light shines ever more brightly.
