In Gene Reeves’ Stories of the Lotus Sutra he includes in his discussion of Chapter 1, Introduction, Kenji Miyawaza (1896-1933), the Japanese short story writer.
The Stories of the Lotus Sutra, p16-18One person who understood well the importance of enchantment was Kenji Miyazawa, the poet, storyteller, science-fiction writer, scientist, and lover of the Lotus Sutra. Chanting Namu Myoho Renge-kyo, he imagined his spirit in boundless space, where he was filled with joy in the great cosmos, and from which he returned to earth, having acquired strength and courage to endure a life of suffering.
Known throughout the Tohoku area of Japan as “Kenji bosatsu” (Kenji the bodhisattva), Miyazawa devoted his whole life to the Dharma Flower Sutra – to practicing the Lotus Sutra, to embodying the Lotus Sutra, to living the Lotus Sutra – for example by helping struggling farmers of Iwate Prefecture with modern agricultural science.
One of his most ambitious works, A Night on the Milky Way Railroad, was turned into a popular animated film and used in various Japanese manga comic books. It is a story about a young boy, Giovanni, and his friend Campanella, who ride a train to the stars together – a celestial railroad, soaring through deep space – experiencing numerous adventures and encountering unusual characters. In the final passages of the story it becomes clear that this night train to the stars that Giovanni and his friend Campanella are riding is actually a ferry for souls traveling to life after death!
In a chapter called “Giovanni’s Ticket,” the conductor asks the passengers for their tickets. Campanella, who is dead from drowning, like the other passengers has a small gray, one-way ticket. Giovanni, who at first is very nervous because he thinks he has no ticket at all, discovers in a pocket a larger folded piece of green paper with mysterious characters written down the center. Examining this ticket, the conductor is astonished, and asks: “Did you get this ticket from three-dimensional space?” Bird-catcher, another passenger, then exclaims:
Wow, this is really something. This ticket will even let you go up to the real heaven. And not just to heaven, it is a pass that enables you to travel anywhere you want. If you have this, in fact, you can travel anywhere on this Milky Way Railway of the imperfect fourth-dimension of fantasy.
Giovanni alone on that train has a magical round-trip pass that enables him to freely travel from the “three-dimensional space” of ordinary reality to anywhere in the “fourth-dimensional space” of the invisible, spiritual, imaginative, and enchanting world that is the Milky Way Railroad.
What is this extraordinary railway ticket that enables one to enter the fourth-dimensional world and then return to the ordinary world? Giovanni’s ticket is the gohonzon (object of worship), or mandala, of Nichiren, with its inscription of the daimoku, the sacred title of the Lotus Flower of the Wonderful Dharma Sutra: “Namu Myoho Renge-kyo.” The daimoku, as it represents and embodies the Dharma Flower Sutra, provides a connection, a passage as it were, between earth and heaven, between earthly and cosmic perspectives, between science and imagination.
After reading Reeves’ description I purchased a copy of Miyazawa’s Milky Way Railroad and quickly devoured it, wanting to read more about Giovanni’s ticket. I was disappointed to find no mention of a gohonzon, nor Nichiren nor the Lotus Sutra or even any reference to Buddhism. “There were just ten strange characters printed on the ticket against a pattern of black arabesques.” Namu-Myōhō-renge-kyō is written with seven characters. Nichiren is written with two. What was the tenth character if this represented a gohonzon?
Having so narrowly focused my reading I missed the story, and having now read it twice I can imagine – if not understand – how an interfaith view of religion might coexist with a faith in the teaching of the Lotus Sutra: “This ticket will even let you go up to the real heaven. And not just to heaven, it is a pass that enables you to travel anywhere you want.”
The book contains several references to Christian icons.
Suddenly the inside of the car burst into a white glow. A single island came into sight in the midst of the voiceless flow of the gorgeous Milky Way River. And that island cast a halo of white light as if all the splendor of diamonds and the gleaming of grass were concentrated in one place. On the island’s flat summit stood, ah, so vividly, a white cross. Silently, it stood as though hewn out for eternity from the clouds of the frozen North Pole. And it, too, shed a halo of light.
“Alleluia! Alleluia!” Voices rose from all sides. Turning around, Giovanni saw that the passengers (there were quite a number now!) were standing at attention, some holding black Bibles to their breasts, others crystal prayer beads. All of them had their hands reverently clasped. Instinctively, the two boys also rose to their feet. Campanella’s cheeks sparkled like bright red apples.
By and by, the island and the cross passed behind them. Across the way now were cliffs and palely colored smoke which, like the marsh grass drifting in the breeze, now and again veiled the cliffs in silver as if they were breathing. (p.56-57)
There’s even a Catholic nun in a black wimple, “Her eyes were lowered and directed straight before her, as if she were reverently listening for something, for some words or some voice.” (p.58)
For Giovanni, his ticket inspires in him the attitude of a Bodhisattva:
Giovanni now, without knowing why, began to feel a strange, unbearable sympathy for the man next to him. He thought of the bird catcher catching herons, and happily saying, “Ah, that was so good!” and wrapping the birds in white cloth, and looking sideways in amazement at Giovanni’s ticket, and finally exclaiming in surprise at it. As he thought of these things one after another, he was seized with the desire to do something for this stranger of a bird catcher, to give him something to eat, or anything. If it would really make the bird catcher happy, Giovanni was ready to stand on the radiant bank of the Milky Way River catching birds himself, even for a hundred years. He thought to ask, “What is it that you really want?” But that seemed too forward. Wondering how to put it, he looked around. But the bird catcher had vanished.
Miyazawa’s train has many passengers, all of whom we learn – with the exception of Giovanni – have recently drowned. Not all are traveling to the same destination.
“We’ll be arriving at the southern cross soon – get ready to get off,” the young man said to them.
“I’m staying on the train a little longer,” responded Tadashi.
Kaoru stood up uneasily and began to get ready. But she seemed reluctant to part from Giovanni and Campanella.
“We’ve got to get off here,” said the young man, looking down at Tadashi and pressing his lips together.
“I don’t want to! I’m staying on the train and riding some more first.”
Giovanni, unable to bear it, said, “Ride along with us! Our tickets are good for going on forever.”
“But we really must get off now,” said Kaoru sadly. “This is the place for going to Heaven.”
“Who wants to go to Heaven? We have to make a place even better than Heaven right here. That’s what my teacher said.”
“But Mom is up there, and furthermore, God said so Himself.”
“That kind of god is false!”
“Your god is false!”
“He is not!”
“What kind of god is your god?” young man broke in, laughing.
“I’m not sure, really. But … anyway, He’s the one true God,” said Giovanni.
“Of course the true God is the only one.”
“Anyway, my God is that one true God.”
“Well, then, there you are! And I pray that you’ll be meeting us before the true God.” The young man pressed his hands together gravely, and Kaoru, too, was praying.
At that precise moment, in the far distance of the Milky Way’s downstream course, a cross, bejeweled with bright orange and blue lights, appeared, standing shimmering in the midst of the river. Its top was lost in a pale cloud, circular like a halo.
The inside of the train was thrown into commotion as all the passengers (just as they had before at the Northern Cross) stood up and began to pray. On all sides there were cries of joy – cries like those of children picking out gourds for the Milky Way Festival. As the cross gradually came parallel to their window, they saw that the silver cloud, pale like the twirling skin of an apple, was gently, ever so gently, revolving.
“Alleluia! Alleluia!” Brightly and happily the passengers’ voices resounded together. From far off in the distant cold depths of the sky came the clear, bracing, indescribable blast of a trumpet.
The train gradually eased to a full stop directly opposite the cross in a blaze of signal lights and street lamps.
“Well, this is where we get off.” The young man took Tadashi’s hand, and Kaoru, adjusting her coat and straightening her collar, slowly followed them out of the train.
“I guess it’s goodbye!” she said, looking back at Giovanni and Campanella.
“Goodbye!” said Giovanni – gruffly, but in fact he was only struggling to hold back his tears.
Kaoru looked back once more with big sad eyes, and then they were gone. The car, already only half full, abruptly emptied out and was left deserted with the wind blowing about it in gusts. Looking out, the boys could see the passengers lined up, kneeling on the bank of the Milky Way in front of the Cross. They saw a figure robed in solemn whiteness passing over the invisible water of the heavenly river, hand extended toward them.
But then the glass whistle sounded, and, just as the train began to move, a silver fog came flowing softly upstream and their view was blotted out. They could make out only the radiant leaves of many walnut trees standing in the mist, and electric squirrels with gold halos peeping out of the mist with mischievous faces.
Now, soundlessly, the fog rolled away once more. They saw a street, lined with little street lamps, that looked like a highway to somewhere. For some time it ran along beside the track, and as they passed the lights, the boys saw those tiny specks of red flame blink on and off, as if in greeting.
Looking back, they saw that the cross was now incredibly tiny and far away. It looked like something you could hang around your neck. They wondered about Kaoru and Tadashi and the young man. Were they still kneeling on the bank, or had they set out in whatever direction it is that leads to Heaven? But it was so blurry, they couldn’t tell.
Giovanni heaved a deep sigh. “Campanella, it’s just you and me again. Let’s stick together all the way, whatever happens! … You know, if it’s for everyone’s happiness, I’m ready to have my body burned like that Scorpion – even a hundred times.”
“Ummmm. I feel the same.” Campanella’s eyes were swimming with gentle tears.
“But – what is it that will make everyone happy?” continued Giovanni.
“I don’t know,” Campanella muttered.
“Anyway, we’re going to hold on!” said Giovanni with an explosion of breath as if his chest were brimming with new-found energy.
“Ah – that’s the Coal Sack. It’s the hole in the sky!” Campanella seemed to shrink back as he pointed to a spot in the heavenly river. Giovanni, too, was shaken as he looked over there. Beyond on the heavenly river, a great black emptiness opened out.
However he strained his eyes, he couldn’t tell how far down the bottom might be, or what might be inside – it only made his eyes smart. “I wouldn’t be afraid in a big dark place like that anymore,” he said. “I’d go looking in there for what would make people happy. You and me – together to the end!”
“Together!” echoed Campanella. “Hey! Don’t those fields look great, and everyone’s gathered there, and – that must be Heaven itself! And there’s my mother!” Campanella cried out, pointing suddenly out the window to a beautiful place he saw in the distance.
Giovanni looked where he was pointing, but all he could see was dim, white, rolling smoke, and nothing at all like what Campanella was describing. Feeling indescribably lonesome, Giovanni looked aimlessly around. He saw two telephone poles standing on the opposite bank, their arms linked as if joined in an embrace.
“Campanella, we’ll stick together, right?” Giovanni turned as he spoke and … in the seat where Campanella had been sitting until now, there was no Campanella, only the dark green velvet seat.
Giovanni burst into tears and everything went black. (p.119-127)
In Reeves’ description of Miyazawa’s tale he concludes:
The Stories of the Lotus Sutra, p18Like poets before him, Miyazawa understood the deepest meaning of the Lotus Sutra – an affirmation of the reality and importance of this world, the world in which suffering has to be endured, and can be, combined with an imaginative cosmic perspective engendered by devotion to the Lotus Sutra. And with his imaginative power and skill as a writer, Miyazawa offers Giovanni’s ticket to each of us. Like the Sutra itself, he uses his own imagination to invite us into an imaginary other world in order to have us become more this-worldly.
I wholeheartedly endorse Reeves’ statement that “the deepest meaning of the Lotus Sutra – an affirmation of the reality and importance of this world, the world in which suffering has to be endured, and can be, combined with an imaginative cosmic perspective engendered by devotion to the Lotus Sutra.” I just don’t see how you get from there to the place where all religions share a common, inter-faith truth.
Next: Ecumenical Buddhism