It is almost exactly fifteen years ago that Chimyo sama, to my complete amazement, asked me in 1997 to give in public a short Talk on the future of the Temple. This was only some five years after I, a complete outsider, knowing no Japanese and little of Shin Buddhism, had first come into contact with Shogyoji.

So much has happened in these fifteen years, both inside the Temple and in the world outside it, that it seemed to me that it might be a good idea, before I died, to speak to you again about that future in the light of things as they now are, or rather, as they now appear to me to be.

In that first Talk I spoke about a well-defined, recurrent pattern in the life of religious reform movements, of which Shogyoji is itself an outstanding example.

Almost invariably, the various religious orders in the Christian West, both male and female, begin with a single person, or a tiny handful of people, of burning faith, endowed with outstanding zeal and energy and an acute awareness of the ills of the world into which they happened to have been born.

In Western Europe, St. Francis of Assisi was one such man and, in Japan, in a very different way, Shinran Shonin, the founder of Shin Buddhism, was another.

Men such as St. Francis, in touching a responsive chord in the population at large, rapidly attract an expanding army of followers.

St. Francis, as he wandered around Italy with his small band of companions, prayed in tiny country Chapels, not much bigger than a single room, and had no interest at all in building.

Yet, within a few years of his death, hundreds of large Franciscan churches were going up all over Europe.

In all of the great new religious orders, success was followed by vast building programmes necessarily involving the accumulation of huge sums of money.

This, in turn, demanded a corresponding increase in concern with the essentially secular activities of organisation and administration.

What is more, as any religious organisation grows, it steadily becomes more difficult to find the increasing numbers of deeply spiritual men and women who are needed in order to maintain the intensity of the original flame.

Five or ten is not perhaps too hard, but fifty, or five hundred, or five thousand, are a rather different matter.

After a time, the initial, upward curve begins to flatten out as growing numbers start to take for granted all that has been so hard won, and asceticism gradually tends to be replaced by laxity and luxury, and all too often by corruption in one form or another.

After a time, a downward curve begins; decline sets in as the once burning coals are turned to embers and to ash.

It then becomes apparent that the once reforming body itself needs reform, and from within its own ranks, or in opposition to it, a new reforming movement starts.

It must be remembered that there are always many exceptions to any set of sweeping generalisations, but the overall, repeated pattern of an upward curve of growth, quite often of spectacular growth, which levels out into a period of consolidation, followed by relative stagnation and a downward curve into decline, and the subsequent rise of a new reforming order, certainly exists.

This sequence is, of course, not wholly driven by internal forces, but is greatly affected by external pressures from demographic changes and from altered forms of social organisation in the outside world.

It also appears to be the case that what seems to be true of the history of Western Christianity is largely true of Buddhism with its many sects, both in the East in general and in Japan in particular.

A similar pattern also frequently recurs within the microcosm of the individual church or temple.

In Shin Buddhism, which was both a reform movement and a response to acute social needs, the initial upward curve, kick-started by Hōnen Shonin and accelerated and given its definitive form by Shinran Shonin, was consolidated by Kakunyo, who was third in the line of succession. This was eventually followed by a period of decline until, in the fifteenth century, the revitalisation and far-reaching reorganisation, instituted by Rennyo, led to a period of rapid expansion.

When I first came to know Shogyoji, which was already, in its spiritual life, the splendid place that it still is, it was still firmly on the upward curve of spiritual leadership that had been begun by Daigyoin sama and was in the process of acceleration under Chimyo sama.

This has led, as in the macrocosm of religious sects and orders, to spectacular building programmes.

The Temple itself is now adorned with a new copper roof; two large and magnificent Taya Houses have been completed and a spacious Hall for gagaku and bugaku performances has been built, and there is now a Lecture Hall close to the Temple for contact with the local community.

The time, the money and the organisational and administrative effort that has underpinned such a dramatic process of physical development and expansion are by no means trivial.

The danger, in the wake of such spectacular success, is that unless extremely strenuous efforts are continuously made throughout the years to come, and far into the future, to break the pattern that I earlier described, and effective means are found for doing so, a levelling out, and then, in due course, spiritual decline will follow.

Another important element in the upward curve in recent years has been the intensification of Chimyo sama's long-standing policy of placing major emphasis on the young.

It is from their ranks that many of the future followers and leaders of Shogyoji, and hopefully of the future, exceptionally holy men and women who will be needed, if the spiritual vibrancy at the centre of its increasing circle of Dojos and associated Temples is to be maintained.

It is already a remarkable feature of Shogyoji that, in a period of increasing secularisation and declining religious faith, it is always full at major services, when in so many Temples of one kind or another, the priests and followers are dwindling into ever smaller groups of aged men and women.

Equally remarkable, is the presence at its services of up to ten or twelve young priests, well below middle age, as well as the array of senior priests who have carried the Temple forward over the years.

At the same time, even younger priests are coming forward in significant numbers to begin their training, together with young followers of either sex.

If they maintain their faith, as I am sure that many of them will, these new, young followers will find themselves in an already flourishing spiritual world which has, at the same time, become increasingly successful in material and financial terms.

In such a situation, the need for strenuous effort to succeed against the odds will be far less apparent than it was for earlier generations. with the ensuing risk that, in an obviously well-established, settled, comfortable community, there will arise a tendency to become complacent, and to coast, rather than strive.

All around them, in all probability, an involvement with financial and organisational matters will be much more evident.

This brings me to something which I am sure Shogyoji has long borne in mind, and I am well aware that in my ignorance I am telling you things that you already know, but which may, even so, be worth reiterating.

I think, as an extension of what I have already said, it is more than likely that, unless great care continues to be taken, concern with the ceremonial aspects of religious life will grow, and with it the ever-present danger that ceremonies and the preparation of ceremonies will gradually take over and, instead of being a means to a spiritual end, become an end in themselves.

There are signs that this may well be happening already.

Hōonkō, the anniversary of Shinran Shonin's death, has long been the climax of the annual round of ceremonial events and is, at Shogyoji in particular, a brilliantly staged and deeply moving spiritual occasion.

To this must now be added the three times repeated, week-long celebration, three years in the preparation, of the seven hundred and fiftieth anniversary of his death.

Vast expenditures of money, time and effort are necessarily involved in such events.

To give a single example, one of the most important young priests has had to travel back and forth to Tokyo seventy times or more within a single year to help Honganji with the preparations.

All work, no matter of what kind, if carried out within the right mental framework, can both express and deepen spirituality.

Nevertheless, when one takes into account the time expended, and the mental and sheer physical effort involved in doing such work well, one has to ask, as an ignorant outsider, how much time and energy is left, in cases such as this, for the development of the deep mind and the quiet spiritual growth that are the essential requirements for any such young priests on whom the future leadership of a temple or other religious organisation may in time devolve.

It is true that when this articular set of ceremonies has actually taken place, the unconscionable burden which has been entailed for a great many, not just for a single priest, will certainly be eased.

However, it is well to remember that in any Temple at the centre of an increasingly large group, there will tend to be, as time goes by, a steady proliferation of complex ceremonies and major memorial celebrations.

The seven hundred and fiftieth anniversary will almost certainly be followed by the eight hundredth, and that, in its turn, by an eight hundred and fiftieth. I cannot help wondering what Shinran would have made of it all.

The important memorial celebrations for Daigyō-in sama and Ekai sama will undoubtedly be joined by those for other, equally revered religious leaders, adding further to the annual round of ceremonial occasions, likewise with more elaborate events on twenty-fifth and fiftieth anniversaries at the very least.

Such developments carry with them the corollary that, at the same time as they impose new burdens on the priests involved, priesthood itself is given greater emphasis and prominence.

If ceremonial is allowed to play too great a role in the life of any temple, it carries with it the risk that an increasing number of those who attend on such occasions, will do so largely out of habit or a love of pageantry and spectacle.

Until now, I believe that Shogyoji has maintained a carefully balanced relationship to Honganji with its enormous religious and organisational empire and its inevitably extensive involvement in finance and other worldly matters.

However, it does also seem to me that there is a real danger that Shogyoji will henceforth increasingly be drawn into the affairs of that extensive network of temples, with their inevitably very varied levels of spiritual development and concern.

In a very different way, the growing success of Three Wheels, which is almost entirely due to the deep spirituality of Taira and Hiroko Sato, is itself, to take a single example of which at least I know a little, an added organisational and administrative burden for many of those who are responsible for the running of Shogyoji itself, and is also, however willingly accepted, a further call on the generosity of its remarkable group of followers.

Not long ago, I had the good fortune to have a discussion about the future of the Temple with one of the most experienced and most devoted of Shogyoji's followers, Kenji Toda, and found that he himself was worried about the need to find the means to inspire the coming generation of young people, and the difficulties that he foresaw would be involved in doing so.

It will certainly require great and continuous effort, and unswerving dedication, to maintain the motivation and commitment not only of the coming generation, but also of those that follow.

It is the growing realisation of Shogyoji's spiritual strength and leadership, both inside and outside Japan, as a pre-eminent centre of true Shin Buddhism, that is steadily attracting people to it and, at the same time and by the same token, making ever-increasing demands upon it.

Shogyoji's desire to spread its message of authentic Shin Buddhism more widely in the English-speaking world is gradually becoming a more important aspect of these new demands.

At the same time, this is a field which may create a new dimension in Shogyoji's spiritual role.

As I have mentioned to you already in an earlier Talk, from the nineteenth century to the present day, the major translations into English of the Pure Land Sutras have, at crucial points, completely distorted or contradicted the central tenets of Shin Buddhism.

Until Taira Sato's new edition, which has recently been published, this was also true of the most important English translations of the Tannisho.

In certain cases, it seems to be clear that Christian beliefs have influenced the words which have been used to translate the Sanskrit terms in the Sutras.

In others, it looks very much as if it is Chinese Confucianist traditions which have affected the outcome.

It appears to me to be quite possible, for example, that the statement, in a relatively recent, major translation of the Sanskrit text of the Smaller Sukhāvatīvyūha, that no one with only an inferior root of merit can reach the Pure Land, which is contrary to the central tenet of Shin Buddhism, has been introduced in order to prevent a conflict with the Chinese version.

Such translations, officially Honganji authenticated and supported, should not, I think, be left unchallenged.

It was Shinran Shonin's passionate belief that no one could ever merit or deserve rebirth in the Pure Land through any sufficient accumulation of good works, and that Amida Buddha's infinite, non-discriminatory compassion, operating through the nenbutsu, embraced all sentient beings, the wicked and the good alike.

I am also very concerned by what seem to me to be serious distortions of the meaning of Shinran Shonin's own Letters in the Honganji authenticated translation into English.

If things remain as they now are, both Shogyoji and its lesser offshoot of Three Wheels will be complicit, year after year, in misleading the innumerable English speaking people across the world who turn to these texts as the primary sources for an understanding of the roots of the Shin Buddhist faith.

It seems to me that any Temple which aspires to be a fountain of Shin Buddhist spirituality, or which is already a de facto leader, should be well versed in the texts which are the ultimate origins of its beliefs.

Because he rightly stressed that academic achievement is in no sense a qualification for or relevant in any way to entry into the Pure Land, Shinran's own, not inconsiderable scholarship is, I think, sometimes forgotten.

He turned to every text and commentary on which he could lay hands in order to elucidate and to confirm the sources of his faith.

His major work, the Kyôgyôshinshô, is a long compilation of the various passages which he laboriously copied out, and to which he returned throughout his life, in order to explain, as far as that was possible, his unconditional faith in Amida Buddha and his Primal Vows.

I find it hard to imagine what the original Sanskrit texts would have meant to him if only he could have known of them.

There are several of the senior priests in Shogyoji who are familiar with old Chinese, but none who are versed in Sanskrit, and Chimyo sama, with his customary foresight, has already set one of the younger priests to learn Chinese, while a very young priest from another temple is being encouraged by him to continue his studies in Sanskrit.

Such admirable initiatives are, however, still a long way from developing priests who are not only versed in medieval Japanese, in old Chinese and Sanskrit, but are sufficiently acquainted with the subtleties of the English language to be able to undertake the extremely difficult work of translation.

It is both a very pressing and extremely difficult problem, but unless it can be solved and new and acceptable translations made at least of the key texts and passages, thousands more will be misled over the next half century, and the grip, exerted during the past century and a half of mistranslations, will be virtually impossible to loosen.

It is clear that at least in the case of the authorised translation of the Collected Works of Shinran the apparent mistranslations are not the result of carelessness or lack of effort, but of an insufficient knowledge of the nuances of the English language and of the essential meanings of some of the English words to which the translators turned.

Quite apart from the problem of translation into English, if Shogyoji were eventually to become a lively centre for the study and understanding of the roots of Shin Buddhism in all its aspects, it would indeed be unique and of inestimable value to all Shin Buddhists.

It would be following exactly in the footsteps of Shinran Shonin in his search for understanding, and it seems to me that that is a goal which is worth reaching for, however long and difficult the path to its achievement.

A final, completely different matter with which I am greatly concerned is the role of women in the Sangha.

Each time, over the years that I have had the privilege of being invited to talk to you, I have been more and more impressed by the part that women, who make up such a significant proportion of the followers, play in the life of the Temple.

They make a distinctive contribution to it at almost every level.

Without them, Shogyoji, as the thriving institution that it is, would rapidly cease to exist.

When Shogyoji took what then was, and still is, the brave and momentous decision to set up Three Wheels, the seven original Trustees were, as is still the case at Shogyoji itself, all men.

Now, under the far-seeing Chairmanship of Chimyo sama, three of the thirteen members of the existing body of Trustees are women.

In their different ways they have each of them made an unique and invaluable contribution not only to the life and wellbeing of the Sangha, but to the work and outlook of the body of Trustees to which they have been elected.

It is to the women Trustees that is owed the formation and running of the organisation of Friends of Three Wheels, and it is to them that is due, as always with the help of Hiroko Sato, the establishment and running of the Meetings for young children and their mothers, to which have recently been added Retreats for those entering adolescence and, more recently still, the Meetings for young adults, whose concerns are often not too well addressed.

The process of education, on which Shogyoji, under Chimyo sama's leadership, rightly lays such stress, both in the family and in the Temple, begins with the very young, and no man has the same instinctive, natural understanding of the young as a wise and mature woman.

Moreover, many women are now well versed in the skills required for management in general in the world as it now is.

Despite the pressures exerted by the social structures of the time, to which Shakyamuni Buddha himself was not entirely immune, and which are partially reflected in the 35th Vow, the purpose of Amida’s 18th, Primal Vow, which was the lodestar of Shiniran Shonin's life and faith, was to save all sentient beings, and not to disenfranchise that half, or more than half, of humanity without whom the human race would not exist and could not ever have come into being.

Rennyo, in his Letters, frequently stresses the importance of the salvation of women.

There is, moreover, no discrimination in the Regulations of the Religious Corporation Shogyoji concerning Representative Trustees, and the election of Ekai sama bears outstanding witness to the fact that this is so.

Yet, paradoxically, the vivid memory of Ekai sama, her supreme spirituality and her remarkable personality, may actually, in some ways, act as a deterrent.

All over the world, it is evident that the qualities needed in a woman in order for her to attain a given level of recognition are often far greater than those required of a man.

To wait for another Ekai sama before again electing a woman to be a Trustee may mean a very long wait indeed, and I am firmly of the opinion that the election of a woman Trustee every thirty years or so is not what is required.

In the world as it now is, and as it will increasingly become, it seems to me that Shogyoji should make strenuous efforts to see that there is always a woman among its Representative Trustees.

This is not a matter of tokenism, but of a forward-looking response to a real
need.

Shogyoji has, in many ways, been a leader, and I strongly believe that, in this field also, it should prove to be a continuing source of leadership.

It is not a matter of of flouting tradition, but of changing the mindset of the sangha to some extent, and of following and giving new dimensions to a great tradition that leads from Amida Buddha's Primal Vow, though Shinran Shonin and Rennyo to its embodiment in Ekai sama, and on into the world that lies
ahead.

It is my firm opinion that Shogyoji, which is rightly paying close attention to the needs and education of the young, is already in a somewhat anomalous situation in this respect.

However hallowed by centuries of traditional practice, handed down from earlier generations, living in a very different world from that which now exists and which is the environment in which the Temple must continue to develop, if it is not, in the years ahead, to wither and stagnate.

Unless 1 am mistaken, which is, of course, quite often the case, the Regulations of the Religious Corporation only lay it down that the Responsible Trustee must be, not only a member of the Takehara family, but also a man, and there is no requirement that Representative Trustees must also be male.

The election of a woman, when there is a worthy candidate, would not, therefore, require any change in the Regulations laid down for the governance of the Temple.

I think that if Shogyoji does not change of its own volition in this respect, change will sooner rather than later be forced upon it as a result of the way the world is inexorably moving.

For any institution, to embrace change in a measured and controlled way, under the aegis of wise leadership, is always better, it seems to me, than it is to have change forced upon it at some moment not of its own choosing.