Crowded but calm
The second day of the year 2020 finds me riding the metro train of the rose-colored Asakusa line. I’m heading to Asakusa station. The carriage is packed, the commuters silent. But that’s nothing new when it comes to the metro lines in Tokyo. Speaking loudly or calling someone on your mobile is considered impolite while you are in the carriage, a practice that, admittedly, I find quite pleasing.
It is almost 10:45 a.m. when I disembark at the overcrowded station platform. Little do I know of the pandemic that is about to overwhelm the world, but for the time being I drift along the river of people that will eventually lead me to my destination, the Sensō-ji, the historic temple of the goddess of mercy. This Buddhist temple is the oldest in Tokyo and, as I later found out, attracts almost 30 million visitors annually, as does the Meiji Shrine, also located in Tokyo, making both the most visited sacred sites in the world.
Eventually, I get out of the station and continue with the human flow, up until I find myself across the first main entrance of the temple, the Kaminarimon (Thunder Gate). It is at that moment I feel I have to separate myself from this unending queue, to get a better grasp of the scene.
Police officers are rearranging the space in front of the gate using orange cones connected with black and yellow sticks, channeling the already well-mannered crowd towards the temple’s gate. Stationed right next to the entrance is a police van; an electronic message board attached to it’s roof informs us in, both, Japanese and English that the flight of drones is prohibited. I find that odd, but before I even have the chance to reflect upon that my view is blocked by three guys who come and stand in front of me while holding big yellow board signs with hiragana, katakana and English writings. The boards say: “Repent and turn to God. Holy Bible Acts 319. Repent, because the kingdom of God is near. Jesus Christ Matt. 32.” Okay, that’s even more weird, I think to myself. But nobody gets agitated, nobody makes a fuss. Usually, that’s how things roll in Japan. If something similar occurred in Europe, or anywhere else in this planet for that matter, I’m pretty sure a situation like this may have taken a different turn. However, confrontation is not part of the Japanese mentality, at least not in the vast majority of cases.
It’s time for me to rejoin the crowd and follow the route that leads to Sensō-ji. While passing through the main gate, guarded by the statues of the Shinto gods Fūjin and Raijin, you can’t help but marvel at the massive traditional lantern hanging in the middle. It’s truly impressive. Definitely the largest I’ve ever seen. The internet says that it’s 3.9 meters tall, 3.3 meters wide, weights around 700 kilos and gets replaced roughly every ten years! The one I am seeing has been hanging there since November 2013 – three months later it will be replaced by a new one. This lantern is handmade by a company in Kyoto, and for its construction -apart from the metallic parts, such as the base in the bottom – the craftsmen use bamboos from Kyoto and traditional handmade Japanese paper.
Leaving the Kaminarimon behind, I enter the souvenir shops area on Nakamise shopping street. From there, it’s a straight line to the temple. The crowd sets the pace as we move between the shops. No one is pushing, not even by accident, and no one is shouting.
In the distance, a police officer is giving instructions through a megaphone that’s angled towards the ground so that the sound won’t be too loud for the people passing by; loud is impolite.
My gaze wanders across the colorful omiyage mono ya – gift shops in Japanese – and before I even realize, I am passing through the second gate called the Hōzōmon, meaning “Treasure House Gate”. As the name implies, that’s were all the treasures of the temple are kept. Unlike the first one, this is a two-story gate. Here, the main lantern is a bit smaller. The two guardian deities statues of Buddha hold vigil around us, and on the back side of the gate there are two tall straw sandals called waraji, over 4 meters each.
The inner yard is packed with people, and the pace is now slowing down noticeably – almost to a halt. This gives me time to observe the magnificent architecture of the five-story pagoda Shinto shrine to my left. The building was originally built in 942; however, the 53 meters high pagoda that currently stands next to the temple was reconstructed in 1973.
The crowd splits left and right as we approach the stairs of the temple. The police officers, who operate as living traffic lights, allow a small number of people from each side to go up the stairs every two minutes or so. The visitors eventually reach the first room of the temple, which is basically an antechamber. In this area, the people facing towards the main hall – where the ceremony is under way -follow a specific ritual while praying for good fortune and good health for the coming year. First, they throw coins in the red box, then bow and clap their hands twice, followed by a moment of silence. I guess that’s the moment of the prayer. All this is happening in a remarkably rapid rhythm, over and over again.
I take a couple of steps back, trying to absorb as much as I possibly can of this fascinating procedure, and then I glance back. The view of the endless sea of people waiting to get into the temple is riveting. Without thinking, I snap a picture and move out of the temple with the rest of the crowd.
