Kanji Press

This was the compound of the Nanbanji [Southern Barbarian Temple]. Usually at this time, the sun shone through the stained glass windows, but it was during the cloudy rainy season and today was just as dark as at dusk. Only dim light was reflected on the gothic style wooden pillars which protected the high altar. An oil lamp in the inner part of the hall illuminated an image of a saint. There were no visitors.

In this dim hall, a red-haired Father, perhaps forty-five or -six years of age, was praying alone with his head lowered. He had a narrow forehead, high cheekbones, and a thick beard. His long priestly robe trailed on the floor. A rosary of faint blue beads was loosely wound around his wrist. The hall was quiet, and the Father remained motionless for a long time.

A Japanese woman silently entered the hall. She appeared to be a samurai's wife, dressed in an old robe with a crest and a dark obi. Though looking slightly older, she must have been in her thirties. With dark rings under her eyes, she was strangely pale. Though she might be called beautiful, her perfect features seemed strict and severe.

Gazing curiously at the holy water basin and pews, the woman hesitantly advanced to the inner part of the hall. Surprised upon seeing the priest crouching before the altar in the dim light, she stopped. Immediately realizing what he was doing, she remained standing, silently. Inside, the hall was still quiet. The priest was motionless and the woman did not even move her eyebrows. Silence prevailed in the hall for quite a long time.

After a while, the priest finished his prayer and finally rose from the floor. He saw the standing woman, who apparently wished to speak to him. It was not unusual to have in the hall curious visitors who just wanted to look at the image on the cross. But he realized that she was not one of these.

With an artificial smile, he spoke to her in poor Japanese, asking, "Is there anything that I can do for you?" "Yes. I have a little favor to ask." Though she was dressed humbly, her hair was neatly tied up, and she bowed as she replied. The priest returned her bow with smiling eyes as he fingered his blue rosary beads.

The woman continued, "I am called Oshino, and am the widow of Hanbei Ichibangase. My son, Shinnojo is now seriously ill . . ." She stopped for a moment, then resumed as fluently as if reading. Since spring, her fifteen-year-old son, Shinnojo, had been ill for no reason since the past spring. He coughed, had a high fever and no appetite. Oshino had done everything she could. She had taken him to several doctors and bought him many kinds of medicine. Nothing proved effective, and the boy became weaker. Moreover, being poor, she could not have him treated in the way she wanted. She heard that the medical methods practiced in the Nanbanji cured even leprosy. So she hoped that the Father could save her son. "What do you think? Would you please come to see him?" While asking, Oshino stared at the priest. Her eyes conveyed neither an appeal for sympathy, nor unbearable anxiety, only obstinate quietude.

"Fine. I will see him," replied the priest, nodding deeply as he stroked his beard. The woman was seeking help for a body, not for a soul. She should not be blamed for that, because the body was the house for the soul. If the house was repaired, the sickness of the master of the house might be cured. The woman might have been sent to him for a divine purpose.

"Can your son come here?"

"That may be difficult."

"Then, take me there."

For a moment, her eyes became radiant with joy, and she said, "Are you sure? I will be most appreciative if you can do that." The priest was moved by gentle feelings. For a moment, he clearly saw the mother in her face, which had looked as expressionless as a Noh mask. The woman standing before him was no longer a strict samurai widow, nor a Japanese woman, but a mother, "the most gentle, sweet, and merciful Heavenly Queen" who gave her beautiful breasts to Christ in the manger.

Straightening his back, the priest cheerfully spoke to the woman, "Be at ease. I can cure your son's illness. I will take care of him. I will do my best for him. If it is beyond human power. . ."

The woman softly interrupted, "If you can only come and see my son, it will be enough, no matter what happens in the future. After that, all I can do is to rely on the protection of Boddhisattva Kannon of the Kiyomizu Temple."

Boddhisattva Kannon! The words immediately brought anger to the priest's face. Casting a sharp glance at the ignorant woman, he began to chide her, as he shook his head, saying, "Be careful about Kannon, Shaka, Hachiman, and the Tenjin deities, which are nothing but stone and wooden idols. The true God is only one, the Heavenly Lord. Your son's life or death depends on the Lord's will and has nothing to do with these idols. If you care for your son seriously, stop worshipping your idols." The surprised woman simply watched him, unconsciously tucking her chin closely into the collar of her old robe. She was not sure if she understood his words, filled with religious anger.

Almost bearing down upon her, with his sharply protruding bearded face, the priest intently continued his warning. "You must believe in the true God. There are no other gods beside Jesus, who was born in the town of Bethlehem in the country of Jerusalem. If you think there are other gods, they are all devils, the incarnations of the degraded angels. Jesus put himself on the cross to save us. Look at that honorable figure!" Solemnly stretching out his arm, the Father pointed at the image in the stained glass behind him.

In the dark hall, the etched figure of Jesus in passion floated on the window pane which reflected the dim sunlight. Below the cross, the lamenting Mary and the disciples likewise floated. Joining her palms in the Japanese fashion, the woman quietly turned to the stained glass window as she said, "So, that is the rumored Nanban Buddha of the South Barbarian Country. As long as my son is saved, I don't mind serving that Buddha on the cross throughout my life. Please pray to him, so that he will bless my son." The woman's calm voice contained deep emotion. The victorious and proud priest now stretched out his neck and resumed preaching more fluently.

"Jesus was born on the earth to purify our sins and to save our souls. Listen to the hardships in his life!" Filled with religious emotion, he began to walk back and forth as he spoke rapidly about Jesus's life about the angel who announced the Honorable Conception to the virtuous Virgin Mary, about the Honorable Birth in the manger, about the Wise Doctors who brought fragrant medicines as they followed the star which had told them about the Honorable Birth, about the young children killed by King Herod who was afraid of the Savior's appearance, about Saint John the Baptist, about Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, about changing water into wine, about opening the eyes of a blind man, about driving out the seven evil demons who had possessed Mary Magdalene, about reviving the dead Lazarus, about walking on the water, about Jesus entering Jerusalem riding on a donkey, about the sad Last Supper, about his prayer in the Garden of Gethsemene, and so on.

His voice resounded like that of God in the dark hall, and the woman with shining eyes was silently listening. "Just think how he was, on the cross between the two thieves. Imagine his sufferings and sadness. Only thinking of him makes our flesh tremble. Especially Jesus's last words spoken on the cross, 'Eli, eli, lema sabachthanei?' meaning 'Our Lord, why have you forsaken me?'"

The priest suddenly stopped. The pale woman was staring at him, biting her lower lip. What the priest saw in the glare from her eyes was not sacred emotion anymore, but a cold contempt and a hatred which would penetrate one's bones. The flabbergasted priest simply remained silent as his eyes blinked.

Then the woman, throwing off her innate modesty, spat out her words as if to pierce him, "My husband, Hanbei, was a ronin of the Sasaki Clan. He never turned his back to the enemy. Before the attack on the castle of Chokoji, he lost his horse and armor due to gambling. However, on the day of the battle, he wore a paper coat which had the large characters written, Namuamidabutsu, ['Hail to Amida Buddha'] on its back. Carrying a leafy bamboo stalk attached to his back as his banner, holding a three-foot-five inch long sword in his right hand, and an open red fan in his left, he dashed into the thick of the battle to meet the devilish enemy, the Shibatas of the Oda army, as he loudly sang, 'I'd rather take a head than steal someone's young boy!' Now, how could someone called the Lord of Heaven speak such cowardly words, even on the cross? How degrading! What's the use of putting faith in the teachings of such a coward? And you, who are following this coward, will never see my husband's tablet, nor my son. Shinnojo is the son of Hanbei known as the head-taker. He would cut his belly rather than take medicine from a coward. If I had known, I never would have come here. It is most regrettable!" Swallowing her tears, the woman quickly turned her back, and hurried out of the hall as if avoiding a poisonous wind, leaving behind the dumbfounded priest.