“My Experiment of Seeing God ” (1905) by Tsunashima Ryōsen
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| Tsunashima Ryōsen (1873-1907) (Source) |
Now, one of the people Imaoka-sensei tells us he was profoundly influenced by as a young man studying at the Imperial University of Tokyo between 1903-1906, was Tsunashima Ryōsen. Imaoka-sensei was attending lectures on mysticism by his teacher Anesaki Masaharu when he read Ryōsen’s “My Experiment of Seeing God” in the magazine “Shinjin.” He tells us he was deeply moved by it and began to realise that there were real and living examples of people like Meister Eckhart that he was hearing about in his lectures. Indeeed, Imoaka-sensei was so taken with Tsunashima Ryōsen’s thinking that he plucked up the courage to visit him on his deathbed in order to receive guidance.
In an interview with the Japan Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) in 1974 Imaoka-sensei tells us that, although Ryōsen was baptised as a Christian when he was young,
“. . . he soon became sceptical of Christianity and distanced himself from the church, dedicating himself to literary criticism and ethics research. After contracting a terminal illness, he began to immerse himself in religious contemplation, eventually having an experience of seeing God. It wasn’t something you could simply label as Christianity or Buddhism. It transcended those, a vast and profound experience, not at all occult-like, but a vivid experience of a mysterious fusion between God, as the deep reality of the universe, and oneself.” [You can read a translation of the whole interview at this link.]
Following Tsunashima Ryōsen’s death in 1907, Imaoka-sensei joined a group of Ryōsen’s students and admirers called the Ryōsen-kai (梁川会 Ryōsen Association) and it was in that group that he met Tenko Nishida (Tenko-san) who was also to have a profound influence upon him, not least of all because it was Tenko-san who introduced him to Okada Torajiro and his practice of Seiza meditation (Quiet Sitting).Given all the foregoing connections, I have long wanted to read Ryōsen’s “My Experiment of Seeing God
” but, alas, no English translation seems ever to have been made. However, six months ago, I found the Japanese text and produced a first, quick, translation, simply to get a first glimpse of what the esssay was all about. I found it fascinating, and reading it has certainly helped me better to understand Imaoka-sensei’s own religious and spiritual development. I was also profoundly struck by how much it chimed with a mystical
experience I had when I was twenty-two, one which was powerful enough to
send me into the ministry and the study of theology (see HERE if you want to read about that . . . ).
Anyway, I have now gone through the text a couple more times and offer readers a revised draft English translation of it below.
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「神と偕にたのしみ神と偕にはたらく」 |
My Experiment of Seeing God
(1905)
by Tsunashima Ryōsen
The oringinal Japanese text can be found at this link
This work is not meant to be for those who have deep religious experience in the world, but rather it is a recommendation to the many friends in the world who sincerely seek God (神) and wish to enter into a religious life (宗教的生活).
I shall now speak about my own experiment (実験) of seeing God (見神); although I do this not without some unease. However, I now feel compelled to cast aside all ordinary self-consideration and worry, and to speak as faithfully and clearly as possible of what I have seen, for I bear a mission that I cannot easily abandon. It is not that I am eager to proclaim my own testimony to the world, but rather, with my dull faculties and inferior capacity, I am nonetheless overjoyed and deeply grateful to have been granted this rare spiritual experience. Moreover, I speak for the sake of those in the world who yearn sincerely for God yet have not heard His voice, those who weep in secret over the troubles of their hearts, those who are lost, those who are burdened—in a word, all who have stumbled and been wounded by the problems of life and have tasted the bitter tears of anguish. I speak to share with these friends, as truly as I can, what I have come to understand. Alas, may heaven bear witness, I now stand here to proclaim this precious message to the world.
I shall now endeavour to convey my testimony (見証) to the world as truly as I can. Yet, alas, this task is inherently most difficult. Since I first beheld God, though it may seem presumptuous, the desire to proclaim this great matter of destiny (一大事因縁) to the world has grown stronger within me day by day. However, when it comes to the means by which I might convey it, I find myself utterly at a loss (放焉). How can this purpose be achieved? Reflecting on this, I realise that the consciousness of my testimony is so transcendent (超絶), so awe-inspiring (駭絶), and profoundly mysterious (幽玄), that it seems utterly beyond the reach of thought or speech. Are not the words and thoughts of this human world incapable of even faintly suggesting the mystical and concrete reality of its nature? Thinking thus, I have hesitated and fallen into despair many times. And now I understand why the ancients (古人), when speaking of their own testimony, often left others wandering in a fog of confusion (五里霧中). Though they poured out their heart’s blood (心血を瀝尽) to explain the content of their testimony, and though at times their words shone brightly and with great eloquence like the sun and stars, yet the more they elaborated, the more their words seemed to drift away from the moon in the heavens, as it were. When they spoke of their enlightenment (悟), it was as if a guide to a castle led people endlessly around the outer moat (外濠) and inner moat (内濠), never reaching the central keep (本丸). If even the ancients were like this, how much more so must I, with my shallow realisation, fear that in speaking of enlightenment, I might peel away one layer only to reveal another, and thus forever prevent others from reaching the core. Must I, then, abandon this matter altogether? No, no. Has not God, in His wisdom, bestowed this realisation upon me in the twilight of my life for a purpose? Is it not my precious duty to convey this testimony, even in part, to the world? Indeed, enlightenment and testimony are, in the end, beyond the reach of words. Yet, though it be so, can I not, with a single stroke of the brush, express the fullness of my inner awareness and convey even the faintest glimmer of that awe-inspiring consciousness, that shadowy (黝然) light, or hint at its faint (微) fragrance (香気)? The ability or inability lies with God. I must simply speak forth what I have seen, as truly as I can.
The presence of God (神の現前), or His indwelling (内住), or the exaltation of the self (自我の高挙), or the consciousness of radiance (光耀), are things I have personally experienced many times in response to events and encounters. However, those instances that left an indelible memory and remained vividly with me long afterward were exceedingly rare. Those that did occur happened after the summer of Meiji 37 (1904). What the future holds, I do not know, but the past year may be regarded, so to speak, as a radiant era, a time of revelation (啓示), in the history of my religious life. Indeed, within the past year, I have, miraculously, encountered a kind of rare light (光明) that I had never before experienced, one that offered a somewhat tangible response. And of these experiences, the last one was the most astonishing and awe-inspiring (驚絶駭絶).
The first experiment occurred on a certain night in July of last year (I have forgotten the exact date). Due to illness, I had been compelled to sit in meditation (枯坐) on my bed for about an hour every midnight, and this had become my habit. That night, as usual, I awoke and sat upright on my bed. The four walls were deeply silent, and my mind was as clear and transparent as a starry night, utterly free from any trace of disturbance, and intensely focused. At that moment, a gentle, hazy joy—what might be called the intoxication of devotion (帰依の酔ひ心地)—quietly welled up from the depths of my heart and gradually filled my entire consciousness. This lucid and profound state of consciousness, this joy that transcended the pleasures of this world and was incomparably serene, lonely yet not lonely, continued for about fifteen minutes before faintly fading away. (In a chapter titled “Religious Radiance” [宗教上の光耀] in my book “Record of Illness” [病間録], I wrote a passage about emotional radiance based on this experience. Although I had had similar experiences before, none had been as pure and profound as this one). I have not yet fully grasped or exhausted the depth of this experience from that night. Even now, when I vaguely recall the state of my mind that night, I feel as though I am catching a glimpse of heavenly life here on earth.
Another experiment is connected to an event at the end of September last year. After a long time, I decided to visit a bathhouse not far from my home and, with the help of my family, went out through the gate. At that moment, beneath a clear autumn sky, the distant forested hills at the edge of town were bathed in the light of the setting sun. As I gazed at this scene, my heart leaped with an indescribable feeling. In that instant, I was suddenly struck by a kind of consciousness in which I felt that I was with the God of heaven and earth (天地の神), and at the same time, I was observing this majestic scene before me. This single moment of consciousness, upon reflection, was by no means an illusion or phantom (空華幻影). Rather, it was a resounding, transcendent new revelation (新啓示) that I intuitively perceived transcended reason. Even now, as I recall that moment, I cannot fully analyse or dismiss the consciousness of that instant when I felt I was observing alongside God (神と与ともに観たりてふ).
What I now wish to speak of in conclusion is what I previously referred to as the “astonishing and awe-inspiring experience” (驚絶駭絶). Among all the experiences I have had of the presence of God (神の現前), none has been as fresh, radiant, sharp, and profoundly moving as this one. Even now, I can still replay it in my mind, and each time I do, I am increasingly amazed by its transcendent greatness and increasingly convinced of its unchanging truth. Below is a summary of a letter I wrote to a friend at the time, describing the scene in brief.
Though I may be speaking out of turn, since that night of my experiment, the lingering effects of astonishment and joy, along with a kind of inspiration (インスピレーション), have continued to affect me in no small way.
Since that event, my love and longing for God have grown even stronger. The question of how I might convey this awareness to others has become my sole concern of late. On one hand, there is a desire for this awareness to be known to others, but on the other hand, I am also moved by a deeper, more sincere and solemn sympathy for the many friends in the world who have not yet attained this awareness or who are struggling to do so. Through this, I feel I have come to understand, in some measure, the great compassion (大悲) of Shaka (釈迦, i.e. Shakyamuni Buddha) and the great love of Christ (基督).
During this year, I have had three opportunities for such spiritual awakenings (触発). The other two instances (excluding the one I described earlier) still make my heart leap when I recall them, and though they brought me comfort, the experience I shared with you the other day was the most mysterious and also the clearest, the most intense. My friend, with whom can I share the heart (意) of this unparalleled, extraordinary awareness? Truly, that night was a quiet one. Under a single lamp, I took up my brush to write something, and I do not know what prompted it, but suddenly, I felt as though I were no longer my usual self. As the brush moved and the ink touched the paper, everything became transcendent and wondrous (超絶的不思議), shining before my eyes. This moment lasted only a few minutes, yet within that short time, it was as if I had encountered a great spiritual being (霊的活物) emerging majestically from the depths of an infinite, profound solitude. The shock (錯愕) [Tsunashima Ryōsen adds in English “Shocking”], the astonishment, and the joy of this consciousness are beyond the power of words to convey. I can only appeal to your intuition and ask for your understanding, for I cannot even begin to suggest a fraction of it now.
My friend, what do you think? Is it not utterly astonishing that someone like me, with a critical, scholarly spirit (学究的), should have such an experience—one that might be called Eastern or even medieval in its mysticism (東洋的、中世紀的とも申すべき神秘的実験)? Even to me, for two or three days afterward, it felt as though I had been bewitched by a fox. However, as time passed, the awareness I spoke of became increasingly clear and certain, and the astonishing reality of it began to shine like an indestructible, diamond-like truth (不壊金剛). Today, it has become an unshakable, undeniable fact of my spiritual life (心霊上), a source of strength. (The rest of the letter is omitted.)
This truly occurred on a certain night last November, around eleven o’clock. Regarding this experiment, I have nothing more to say, for no matter what eloquent words I might employ, I do not believe I could explain it any more clearly than I have already written here. Truth is simple. Let truth speak for itself. Excessive explanation is a burden to truth.
Yet, I feel there is one more thing I must say regarding the consciousness of seeing God (見神). It is nothing other than this: I suspect that readers may find my earlier words—such as “I became a self that was not my usual self” (我が我ならぬ我となりたり) and “I encountered a spiritual being” (霊的活物とはたと行き会ひたり)—still somewhat vague or imprecise (疎雑). Therefore, if I were to express this consciousness with the utmost precision, it would be this: the self that had been holding the brush as the “real me” suddenly, in an instant, became one with the ultimate reality at the heart of heaven and earth (天地の奥なる実在). It was as if “I” vanished, and God Himself was now holding the brush. This is the most precise expression of the transcendent, astonishing, and awe-inspiring (超絶、驚絶、駭絶) reality I experienced in that moment. I know no other way to describe the consciousness of that testimony beyond this. I saw God in this way; I met God in this way. No—to say “I saw” or “I met” is still superficial and external, utterly inadequate to describe the consciousness of that moment. It was a fusion (融会), a union (合一), of God and myself. In that moment, I almost completely melted into the reality of God. I became God (我即神). I am grateful. I received this astonishing, awe-inspiring consciousness directly and unequivocally from God, without the slightest mediation (一毫) or reliance on the testimonies of others. (I leave aside their indirect influence.)
Looking back, my previous religious faith (宗教的信仰) was largely not derived from personal realization or testimony (自得自証). Rather, it was shaped by my belief in the personalities of pioneers like Christ (基督) and others, or by relying on their great consciousness as a testimony (証権), and thus vaguely forming my own understanding. Half of it was harmonising with the voices of others, adopting their consciousness, and feeling as though I had seen God or known His love. In other words, much of it was indirectly influenced by others. However, as I delved deeper into my inner life, I cast aside (抛) all the testimonies of those who came before and sought to hear God’s voice independently, in response to the demands of my deepest emotions. My seeking was not in vain, and I felt that my God was present (在) in the sanctuary of my profound emotions, causing my heart to leap many times at His light. The God I saw was no longer a conventional idol (因襲的偶像) or an abstract ideal (抽象的理想). Yet, did I not still feel as though a thin veil (薄紗) separated me from this God I had so directly seen and felt? Was it not like a flower reflected in water, faint and indistinct? I do not dismiss all my past immature and vague experiences as false, mistaken, or meaningless. I value all past experiments. Do they not form a chain, a link in the history of my religious life, as genuine and unfailing (真実無妄) experiments of seeing God in ways suited to my capacity at the time? I give thanks, for all these are gifts (賜) from heaven. However, I could not help but feel that there was still a slight flaw in using all these past experiments as the foundation (礎) of my unshakable faith. My past experiments of seeing God might be likened to tracing the faint fragrance of plum blossoms in the uncertain darkness of a spring night. Though I recognized it clearly, it was still faint and subtle. But now it is not so. The God of heaven and earth (天地の神) has appeared before me directly and unmistakably, in broad daylight, as an astonishing and awe-inspiring reality. What a blessing it is that even we, of inferior capacity in this latter age, can attain this rare and subtle (稀有微妙) spiritual testimony and partake in the boundless joy of the Dharma (法)!
Now, seeing (見), faith (信), and practice (行) are the three essential principles of our religious life. These three complement and support one another, and there is no hierarchy (軒輊) in their value. However, based on my own experiment, I wish to assign greater importance to the principle of “seeing” than has been traditionally recognized. People often contrast “seeing" and “faith," placing immense weight on faith in religious matters, while rarely discussing “seeing,” let alone illuminating its radiant significance. Yet I believe that at the root (根柢) of every great faith lies a great vision of God (見神). No one truly believes in God without truly seeing Him. The faith of Christ arose from His inner vision of God and His hearing of God’s voice, and Paul’s faith sprang forth from the awe-inspiring heavenly light he encountered on the road to Damascus. Though I will not laboriously cite every example, such as the testimony under the (菩提樹) Bodhi Tree or the radiance in the cave of Hira (ハルラ), it is clearer than fire that true vision of God is, and must be, the foundation of great faith. Faith without seeing becomes blind faith, stubborn faith, or heteronomous faith, giving the impression of outward firmness but lacking inner assurance. When we say we believe in God, yet feel that our faith is somehow unfulfilled, is it not because we have not yet met God face to face? There are ancient sayings such as, “Blessed are those who believe without seeing,” and “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen,” but these do not fully exhaust the truth. Is it not because faith in what is unseen is rooted in something already partially seen? Strictly speaking, seeing ultimately resolves into faith, and the sharp clarity of faith is itself seeing. But here, I am speaking of faith in its ordinary sense. Therefore, I would say: blessed are those who believe without seeing, but even more blessed are those who see and believe. And the “seeing” I speak of here is not the shallow, sensory meaning of Thomas touching the body of the resurrected Christ’s before believing. No, the faith of those who truly see and believe in God is like a great tree of life (人生の大樹) rising from the centre of the universe, its branches and leaves flourishing eternally, unburned by the fires of kalpas (劫火) and unshaken by the winds of kalpas (劫風).
I doubted whether my experience of seeing God might be an unfounded superstition, and so, after this event, I repeatedly brought it before the court of reason, seeking its strict and impartial judgment. And I found that reason could do nothing but ultimately affirm (究竟) it. I also feared that this experience might have been a mere illusion of my brain cells at the time, so I repeatedly recreated it in my mind with an open heart, examining it from every angle—front, back, up, down, left, and right—without missing a single detail. I confirmed that this fact came unmistakably (竟に然) from the very foundation of the universe (宇宙の根柢). Yet, I still worried that this experience might, even to the slightest degree, be an exaggeration or self-deception, so I recalled and recreated it many times afterward, striving to examine it in detail with the impartiality of a third party. And every time I recalled it, I was increasingly convinced of its astonishing reality. It is an incomparably rare (稀有) consciousness that is ultimately difficult to express in words. Now, it has become an undeniable truth, leaving no room for doubt. However, I cannot yet fully grasp the extent of the significance and value of this experiment as I am today. The contemplation of truth is by no means easy. I can only strive single-mindedly in what is called “practice after enlightenment” (悟後の修行).
Ah, what I have seen and felt is all as I have described. Perhaps I have been too eager to speak of myself, or perhaps my language has been somewhat verbose and unclear. I ask for your understanding, as this is due to the limitations of my pen. Even now, I am still struggling to express this matter adequately. However, I have seen God in this way, and from this, I have felt the unparalleled glory of the consciousness that “I am a child of God” (吾れは神の子なり) welling up from within me. I have become aware of my true place in the universe. I am not God, nor am I merely a wave or ripple in nature. I am a “child of God,” a child of God who participates in the governance of heaven, earth, and human life. What a noble awareness this is! Within this single awareness lies salvation (救ひ), liberation (解脱), light (光明), peace (平安), activity (活動), and indeed the synthesis of all human meaning (一切人生的意義の総合). Ah, I am a child of God, and I must live as befits a child of God. Thus, I feel that a new world of duty has opened before me. Yet, looking back, I am a broken and withered (枯槁) being, unable even to step outside, so what can I do? I once wept at this contradiction. But then I heard the strong voice of spiritual testimony (心証) saying, “As long as you are in the world, do your best, for those who have seen God do not truly die." A new strength has welled up from within. For the God I have seen is always with me, and His unseen hand is always supporting me.
(May 1905)
The base text for this translation is:
底本: 現代日本文學大系 96 文芸評論集 (Gendai Nihon Bungaku Taikei 96: Bungei Hyōronshū)
Publisher: 筑摩書房 (Chikuma Shobō)
, Publication Date: July 10, 1973 (Showa 48), First Edition, First Printing
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