Ghost Jizō, 108 Foxes and a Giant Kannon: Unusual Sacred Figures Around Tokyo

Takanawa, Tokyo · Takanawadai

Kofukuji Temple — The Ghost Jizō

From the front, Kofukuji’s Yūrei Jizō still has something resembling a human face. From the side, it looks as though much of the figure has already left.

How it came to look this way is uncertain. In an interview, the temple’s priest suggested that an older Jizō might have gradually worn down, partly through worshippers pouring water over it.

Jizō is a Buddhist figure associated with protection and compassion. At Kofukuji, people pray to this figure for children to grow up healthy, although its nickname means “Ghost Jizō”.

Its appearance is not an obvious advertisement for the service.

Senju, Tokyo · Kita-senju

Anyoin Temple — Kankan Jizō

Anyoin’s Jizō has also lost most of its face, but this one comes with a soundtrack.

Kan. Kan.

Worshippers strike the figure with small stones while praying for relief from illness and other troubles. The sound gives Kankan Jizō its name; the repeated impacts have helped give it its present shape.

Beside it, two older stone figures retain distinct faces, clothing and objects in their hands. Kankan Jizō has become something closer to an outline. For a figure asked to relieve discomfort, it has accepted an unusually physical workload.

At Kofukuji, the missing features leave a question. Here, the small stones laid out in front of the statue supply a fairly direct explanation.

Setagaya, Tokyo · Miyanosaka / Gotokuji

Gotokuji Temple — Where Lucky Cats Come Back

Gotokuji’s white maneki-neko gather in rows, with tiny figures fitted into the gaps between larger ones. Each has a paw raised. Individually, they are quite polite. Collectively, they have taken over.

Many have been brought back as offerings after a wish was fulfilled. What looks like a vast collection of the same object is the result of separate people having something to hope for, then a reason to return.

Unlike the familiar maneki-neko associated with wealth, Gotokuji’s Shofuku Manekineko carry no gold coin. The temple associates them with en: connections and fortunate encounters. Making something of those encounters remains the human part of the arrangement.

Kawasaki, Kanagawa · Shin-Maruko / Musashi-Kosugi

Keihin Fushimi Inari Shrine — 108 Foxes

Foxes are the messengers of Inari, the deity associated with rice, agriculture and prosperity. Keihin Fushimi Inari has 108, arranged among rocks in an assortment of sizes, expressions and attitudes towards sitting upright.

Some are alert. Others lean, recline or tuck themselves into hollows. Being a divine messenger appears to leave room for personal preference.

The count is exact: a stone monument in the grounds records the enshrinement of 108 divine messengers on 8 March 1964.

In Japan, the number 108 is also familiar from Buddhism, where it represents earthly desires and delusions. Temple bells are traditionally struck that many times at New Year. The shrine gives a different explanation for its foxes: 100, a very large number, plus eight, a lucky one. The foxes give the solemn number a remarkably informal appearance.

At Gotokuji, the crowd grows through returned offerings. Here, the headcount was carved in stone.

Minamisenju, Tokyo · Minamisenju

Enmeiji Temple — The Beheading Jizō

“Beheading Jizō” is a difficult name to reconcile with a white bib edged in a pink frill.

The statue stands on part of the former Kozukappara Execution Ground. It was erected in 1741 to commemorate people executed there. The name belongs to the memorial, not the executioner.

The flowers and carefully fitted bib belong to the continuing work of remembrance.

Railway wires cross the sky behind the Jizō. The railway is part of the history too: its construction divided the old temple grounds. Tokyo has repeatedly rearranged the surroundings. Keeping the statue here has required rather more effort than its calm expression suggests.

Minamisenju, Tokyo · Minamisenju / Minowabashi

Entsuji Temple — The Giant Kannon and the Black Gate

Entsuji’s golden Kannon is difficult to miss. She rises above the temple grounds on a scale usually reserved for buildings.

An old wooden gate nearby requires a different kind of attention. Its surface is pitted with bullet scars from the Battle of Ueno in 1868.

The battle took place elsewhere. The gate is here because of what the temple did afterwards.

Entsuji’s priest sought permission to care for the bodies of the defeated Shōgitai fighters, who had been branded rebels. Their remains were brought to the temple, which continued to hold memorial rites for them. The gate followed decades later.

One part of Entsuji announces itself from a distance. The other keeps its history in small holes in the wood.