The Significance of Seeing God in the Modern Age (In Memory of Tsunashima Ryōsen-kun [綱島梁川君] as a Seer of God) by Nakagiri Kakutarō [中桐確太郎]
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「神と偕にたのしみ神と偕にはたらく」 |
Back in January this year (2026) I published a draft translation of Nakagiri Kakutarō’s 1924 essay, “Spiritual foundations of reconstruction and rebuilding ” [1924] written following the Great Kantō Earthquake of 1923. Well, I have been exploring his thinking a little more since then, especially his involvement with Tenkō Nishida-san and his Ittōen community in Kyoto. Indeed, it was Nakagiri Kakutarō who helped write the Prayer for Light (Provisional) that my friend Miki Nakura and I have recently translated. Anyway, whilst looking into Nakagiri Kakutarō’s 1912 book “Accompanying the Prayer of Radiant Light” [光明祈願にそへて] I came across the essay I publish here in draft translation. I publish it for two particular reasons.
The first is that it is a piece about Tsunashima Ryōsen [綱島梁川], whose wonderful 1905 essay I first translated over a year ago, “My [Spiritual] Experiment of Seeing God” [予が見神の実験], that has such a huge influence on my own, great, free-religious exemplar, Imaoka Shin’ichirō.
The second is that in this essay, in the section called The Rise of New Religions [種々なる宗教の出現], Nakagiri Kakutarō uses the metaphor of “refraction” which has really captured my imagination as a way of talking about the central task of free-religion. Here’s the relevant passage. He’s speaking about O-hikari [お光り], the Great-Light which lies at the heart of Ittoen’s (the Garden of the One Light) philosophy and practice, the refraction [屈折] (or reflection [反射]) of which ensures the provisional nature of its Prayer for Light:
This
light [光り] comes through the human medium [人間を通じ]—I always use the sun
[太陽] as an analogy. Just as light [光り] refracts [屈折して来る] when passing
through air [空氣] or water [水], divine light inevitably refracts [屈折して来る]
when passing through human experience [人間の經驗] and consciousness [意識].
When expressed through the physical body [肉體], it refracts [屈折します] even
further. Even in the cases of Śākyamuni [釋尊] and Christ [基督]—if I may
dare to speak of them in human terms [人間に引下して]—they could not escape
[免れ得ぬ] the influence [影響] of their own heredity [遺傳], education [教育],
and environment [境遇]. No matter how pure and genuine the O-hikari [お光り],
it must undergo some degree of refraction [屈折].
Because this is
an inevitable destiny [必然の運命], the light [光り] will always be refracted
[屈折すること] as it is passed through human knowledge [人間の知識の組織] and embodied
in our works [種々の事業]. While this cannot be helped [致し方ない], the danger
lies in becoming imprisoned [囚はれて] by that particular refractive index
[屈折率] or becoming so dazzled [目眩みて] by the individual colours [色彩]
appearing from the analysis of light [光りの分析] that we forget the Source
[本源の光]. This is how conflict [葛藤] and turmoil [粉擾] arise.
To one who has seen the true light [本當の光り], light remains light [光りは光り] regardless [拘らず] of how it is refracted [屈折の仕方]; and yet, to cause [惹起すと云ふ] conflict by obsessing [囚はれて] over the mode of refraction is the very seed of calamity [禍の種子]. In the religions [宗教] rising today, the light [光り] is certainly present [相違ありません], but when people mistake the refraction [屈折] for the Truth itself, or when they lose sight of the Source [本源] because they are dazzled [眩亂昏倒して] by the strange refractions [不思議の屈折] of their own poor knowledge [お粗末な知識], they fall into what we call “evil cults and depraved rituals” [邪教淫祀]. Therefore, I believe [思ひます] the most vital [大切] and essential [肝要] matter [事] lies in [處にある] liberating [救つて行く] the primal light [本源の光] from the captivity [捕はれ] of its own refraction [其屈折率].
I’m sure I’ll be writing more about this at some later point. But, be that as it may, here’s a draft translation of Nakagiri Kakutarō’s entire essay for your pleasure.
—o0o—
The Significance [意義] of Seeing God [見神] in the Modern Age [現代](Remembering [憶ふ] Tsunashima Ryōsen-kun [綱島梁川君] as a Seer of God [見神者])
Delivered at the commemorative lecture for the 15th anniversary of Tsunashima Ryōsen-kun's [綱島梁川君] death, held at Hongō Church [本郷教會] in September [九月] 1921 [Taishō 10].
The Lived Experience [實驗] of Seeing God [見神]
That which should be called the supreme point [至上點]—the culmination [カミニネーション]—of the entire life [一生] of Tsunashima Ryōsen-kun [綱島梁川君] was surely his so-called “experiment of seeing God” [見神の實驗]. He spoke of this lived experience [實驗] himself in various places, and I believe that the act of saying “I saw God” [神を見た] was the very summit [頂上] of Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] spiritual and mental life [精神的生活].
As all of Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] friends acknowledge, he was an exceptionally faithful [忠實] man who would never deceive himself [自から欺かない]. On top of that, he was a man of superior reason [理性]. To be sure [尤も], having received Christian baptism [基督教の洗禮] at about the age of fourteen or fifteen, he believed in God [神] and offered up the sincere devotion [誠] of a heart filled with heartfelt awe [悃悃/憤懍] toward the Divine. However, at that time, he held the view [風に考へて居られました] that actually seeing God [神] before one’s eyes [目のあたり] in this physical world [此世] was a thing that could never, after all [到底], be done. This skeptical stance appears throughout his diaries [日記] and letters [手紙].
In a letter dated 6th October 1901, addressed to five or six of us [私共], there is a passage that illustrates this perfectly. Because the matter was related to me personally, I remember it well [よく記憶して居ります]. At that time, I was preaching [説いて居りました] the necessity [必要] of “seeing God” [見神]. While he noted that the specific implications [意義] of my own theories would need to be investigated, Ryōsen-kun [梁川君] set out his own thoughts [自分の考へ] in the following sequence:
“Supposing I state the essence [要] of my humble opinion [愚見], I wonder [存ぜられ候] if God [神] does not permit us to see Him as He truly is [如實に見るを容さざるもの]. I consider this the innate fate [先天の運命] of us humans, whose very nature [本性] makes it impossible to thoroughly transcend [超越] ([テラリツセン]) the ego [自我]. Is it not perhaps impossible [出来まじき事] for us to leap [一躍] across the divide and meet God face-to-face [面接]? I believe [存じ候] that God [神] is something to be ‘read’ [讀まれ得べきもの], and is not one who can be ‘seen’ [見られ得べき者].”
Such were his words. He was of the firm opinion [御意見] that God [神], after all, cannot be seen directly [目の當り]. This was a discussion born of a specific epistemology [認識論] he held at the time. While his heart [御心の中] was always filled with a longing adoration [景慕の念] for God [神], the “wall of reason” [理性の壁] dictated that God [神] was invisible. Intellectually [智識], this was his position; yet, as the illness [病] he had long suffered from gradually progressed [彌々進み] and he faced the shadow of death [死といふものゝ姿], he finally arrived at that profound experience [實驗] of “seeing God” [神を見ると云ふ實驗].
Illness [病] and Death [死]
I believe [信じます] that the condition referred to as “unrecoverable illness and death” [不起の病死] has a primary connection [主なる關係] to Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] experience [實驗] of seeing God [見神]. However [併しながら], I do not believe we can simply dismiss his experience in a sweeping manner [一概に批評] as being “completely pathological” [病的]—as a certain critic [批評家] did when Ryōsen-kun [君] first announced [發表せられた] his visions—merely because illness [病] was the catalyst [機縁].
Humans, because they are healthy [健康] or in a combative, vigorous mood [戰闘的氣分], often go about their lives without ever noticing [氣付かずに済ます] the things that they truly ought to notice. From the perspective of pathology [病理學上], there might be criticisms [批評] claiming that his visions were nothing more than fantasies [幻想] caused by disease germs [病菌] attacking the brain [脳]. Yet, if becoming ill [病氣になつた] is what allowed him to finally notice [氣付く] the truths he needed to notice, then that illness is something for which we should rather be thankful [感謝すべきこと]. In the olden days, when Socrates [ソークラテース] was questioned for his crimes [罪に問はれ] and sat drinking the poison [毒薬を仰いで], he said as he was dying: “I now submit to my penalty and die. Whether I, who depart in death, am truly happy [幸福], or whether you, who remain alive, are happy—God [神] alone knows [知り給ふ].” I believe [思ひます] that in cases like this, the question of whether the sick man is actually the fortunate one [仕合はせ] becomes a serious problem [問題] to consider.
The fact that such a great spiritual experiment [大なる實驗] was performed through illness [病] was because it forced him to look death [死] directly in the face [正面]. Ryōsen-kun [梁川君] seems to have been contemplating death [死] since his mid-teens. Looking up at the stars [星] shining in the sky [天空] on a quiet night [靜かなる夜], he would be lost in thoughts [想ひに耽けられた] like: “If I died, what would become of me?” Though he had thought of death [死] in this way, I do not believe [思ひます] he had yet grasped its true form [眞の姿]. In most cases, even suicide [自殺] fails to reveal death’s true nature [眞の姿]. Since suicide [自殺] is the act of killing oneself, and the "self who kills" [殺す自分] remains, the true face [眞の姿] of death remains unknown. However [けれども], for a patient [病者] who has finally resolved [覺悟した] that there is absolutely no hope of recovery [到底快復の見込はない], death [死] sometimes reveals its true reality [真相].
The physical body [肉體] is a thing that must die [死すべきもの]. As it is said: “Human life is but fifty years; seventy has been rare since ancient times [七十は古來稀なり].” Even if one were to live to a hundred and twenty-five [百二十五歳], in the end [遂には], one must die. Death [死] is an inevitable destiny [必然の運命] for humans, and it is not something to be surprised by [驚くべきもの] even now. Yet, when we behold the face [姿] of death [死] and feel a special agitation [動揺] in our hearts, this is not merely the death of the flesh [肉體の死]—it is a problem [問題] arising from the shock [錯愕] of the soul [霊魂].
The Twofold Veil [二重の幕]
The soul [霊魂], if we hold to our faith [私共の信ずる所], is a thing that never dies. I believe [思ひます] death [死] does not exist within the soul [霊魂]. Therefore [でありますから], from a true standpoint [本當の立場], it is only natural [自然] to know nothing of death [死]. A small child [をさな子] knows nothing of death; to such a child, who is like a citizen [民] of the true Heaven [本當の天國], death [死] is no hardship [苦勞]. It seems there was a song to this effect by Terence [テレンス].
However [所が], within the human being [人間], the faculty of knowledge [知識] eventually arises—though we know not when or how. With this knowledge [知識], we deny the fact [事實] that the soul [霊魂] is immortal and come to believe [考へる様になりました] that we must perish along with our physical bodies [肉體]. Furthermore [然かも], this knowledge [知識] is often forgotten [忘れられて居る] for the sake of bodily health [身体の健康]. Thus, the truth of the soul’s immortality [霊魂の不死] is hidden [覆はれてをります] by a twofold veil [二重の幕]. One veil [一つの幕] is the intellectual veil of knowledge [知識の幕] that we will probably die along with the physical body [肉體]. The other [も一つ] is a veil [一つの幕] of health that makes us forget even the fact that we will die at all.
If human beings [人間] simply vanished [滅び去つてしまふ] along with the death of the body [肉體の死], we would feel no agony [悩み] when facing death. Agony [悩み] is something we feel only when we see that something which ought to be possible [出来得べき筈のこと] is, in reality, impossible [出来得ざる]. If something were truly impossible [眞に出来ざる事], it is the rule [常] that humans would simply resign [諦める] themselves to it. Resignation [諦め] brings its own kind of peace [安心]. Therefore [故に], there are those in this world [世の中] who find peace [安心] in the resignation [諦め] born of the belief [信じて] that a person perishes with their body [肉體].
While I will not debate the value [價値] of that peace [安心] today, people who stand on such resignation [諦め] often [往々] look at those facing death in agony [悩み] and dismiss it as a mere “lingering attachment” [執着] to the physical body [肉體]. Such a critique [批評], however, fails to grasp the reality [事實] of the human condition [實情]. Those who have experienced true agony [悩み] know that it does not spring from a desire to cling to the body, but from a slightly deeper source [根源]. When we observe this in detail [仔細に], we touch [ふれる] upon the problem of the spirit [靈の問題].
How, then, does this agony [悩み] arise? The soul [霊魂]—the “I”—is inherently immortal [本来滅びざるもの]. Yet, our human knowledge [人間の智識] tells us that we must perish with the body [肉體の死] and that we simply vanish [全く滅び去る]. Here, there is a grievance [不平] and dissatisfaction [不滿] within the spirit [靈]. We long to tear through [破りて] the veil of knowledge [知識の幕] and reveal its immortal truth [不滅なる眞相]. If we cannot, an infinite agony [無限の悩み] is born. While the first veil [第一の幕]—the intellectual belief in mortality—may be torn by a terminal illness [病氣死], the spirit [靈] will continue to suffer [悩む] unless the second veil [第二の幕] of knowledge [知識の幕] is also removed.
Zen [禪] is one method [方法] of tearing this veil [幕], as is facing the true form [眞の姿] of death. For when one beholds the truth [眞相] of death, the human ego [我執] is shattered. When the ego [我執] is broken, the veil of knowledge [知識の幕] falls. In that moment, the immortal spirit [靈] appears in all its grand and stately [儼然堂々] majesty. In this way [此の如くにして], the spirit [靈] is saved [救はるゝ] from its agony [悩み].
The Reflection [省察] of Reason [理性]
Through unrecoverable illness [不治の病], one sees the true face [眞の姿] of death, the two veils [第一第二の幕] are torn away, and one beholds the spirit [靈] and God [神]. Of course [勿論], among those in this state [状態], there will be cases where pathological delusions [病的變態] arise. However [けれども], I believe [思ひます] it is far too bold a conclusion [速断] to label all such experiences as pathological [病的].
In Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] case, because he was a man of absolute integrity [自ら欺かざる性質] who held reason [理性] in the highest regard, he did not accept [肯定] his experience [實驗] of seeing God [見神] lightly [輕々しく]. He was very clear about his commitment to reason [理性]:
“I [予] respect the authority [權能] of reason [理性]. I have never—at least not consciously [意識して]—ignored [無視した] its demands [要求], nor have I ever sought to suppress [壅塞して] it in a manner that lets me barely stand. A conviction [信念] that stands only by blocking reason cannot be called a solid conviction [堅實なる信念]. Conviction [信念] belongs to the supreme being [至上人]. A true conviction [眞個の信念] cannot be won by gambling [賭して] on the disintegration [分裂] of one’s own personality [自家人格]. I [予] intend [期す] to let the light of my reason [予の理性の光] be increasingly active [倍々活溌に] and clear [發越照著せしめん]. This is my consistent attitude [一貫の態度], and it is the only attitude [態度] I can take.”
Ryōsen-kun [君] strictly held to this attitude [嚴正に], questioning many times whether his vision of God [見神] was merely a pathological hallucination [病的の幻像]. As he said: “I [予] subjected this truth to a vast period of deep thought and careful consideration [沈思精慮] before I published [發表する] it to the world [天下].” This was no superficial confession [告白]. Although he reported [報告された] his seeing God [見神] around 1904, his diaries [日記] and letters [書翰集] show he had similar experiences [經驗] as early as 1897. Since then, he tempered [陶冶し] and refined [精錬し] his thoughts repeatedly. As he himself stated:
“Ah, the truth [眞理] of my vision [わが見神] has been sharpened and polished [研ぎ磨かれて] by the blade [鋒] of countless cool recollections [回想], reflections [省察], and criticisms [批評], until it now shines [輝きぬ] like refined gold and beautiful jade [精金美玉].”
Truly, this was a magnificent conviction [信念], and I do not believe [思ひます] it can be dismissed as mere superstition [迷信] from any perspective. Superstition [迷信], I would define [定義], is the act of believing [信ずる事] something to be a fact [事實]—usually out of selfish desire and gain [我欲我利の念]—without any intuitive experience [直覺的の經驗] or logical criticism [論理的の批判]. If this definition holds, Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] experience [實驗] had no trace of superstition [迷信].
He often loved to quote Zen Master Hakuin [白隠禪師]: “Generally [大凡], in the three worlds and ten directions [三世十方の間], there is no Buddha [佛] who has not seen his true nature [見性], and no saint [賢聖] who has not done the same.” The truth [眞理] of seeing God [見神] lies at the heart [根柢] of all religions [凡ての宗教]. Every religious person [宗教家] has, at some point, encountered this experience [實驗], and Ryōsen-kun [君] was no exception. He refused to let it remain a mere pathological phenomenon [病的現象], subjecting it to intense reflection [省察し] and inspection [點檢して] until he had polished [研きなし] it into something that is unobstructed [障りのない] and could be understood by all religious people [凡ての宗教家].
Spiritual Joy [法悅] and Mission [使命]
Tsunashima-kun [綱島君] described the beauty of his experience [實驗] in his own writings, but I would like to consider the significance [關係] of seeing God [見神] in our modern religious life [現代の宗教的生活]. As he said [梁川君も申されて居る様に]:
“One significance [一義] of seeing God [見神] does not end with the vision itself [其ものにして終はらず]; it does not wither [枯れず]. Rather, it develops [開發し来つて] a more abundant and objective new life [客観的新生命], leading to infinite progress [無限向上]. It is the definitive gateway [確實なる一關門] into a new religious life [宗教的新生活].”
For Ryōsen-kun [梁川君], this new life [新生活] meant conveying [傳へる] the spiritual joy [法悅] he had found to his fellow countrymen [同胞]. He wrote:
“My soul [わが靈魂] has stood up to praise God [神を讃美し], for I have heard the voice [聲] of a noble mission [尊き使命]: ‘Convey this self-awakening [自覺] to your brothers [同胞].’ I [われ] have exactly finished the first labour pains [産みの苦しみ]; now I must endure the second [第二の産みの苦しみをなすべきなり].”
Generally [一體], when one attains the boundary [境界] of thorough great enlightenment [徹底的大悟] described in these visions, a new heaven and earth [新天地] inevitably opens up. In that state, this world [此世界]—just as it is [此儘]—is seen as the Pure Land of Tranquil Light [寂光の淨土], as Paradise [極樂の天園], as the Kingdom of Heaven [天國]. And yet, when we look back at the reality of our lives [現實の世界], we see a defiled land [穢土] of suffering [苦患], a valley of tears [涙の谷].
While enlightenment reveals a beautiful world [天地], the reality of society [実際の世相] remains like a house on fire [猶如火宅]. To the enlightened soul [大悟徹底した人], these two worlds [二つの世界] exist simultaneously. The desire [願ひ] to somehow transform this world into a heavenly Pure Land [天國浄土] is a petition [所願] shared by all religious people [凡ての宗教家]. Ryōsen-kun [梁川君] truly lived through [體験せられて居つた] these experiences. I believe [思ひます] he described these two states [境涯] most beautifully in his essay “As I Have Witnessed” [如是我證] within his work The Record of the Reflecting Light [回光録]. He captured this paradox in the phrase: “Enjoying together with God [神と偕に楽しみ], and working together with God [神と偕に働く].”
In “enjoying together with God [神と偕に楽しみ],” we see him tasting the beautiful spiritual joy [美しき法悅] of realising that this world [此世界] is, just as it is [此儘], the Kingdom of Heaven [天國浄土]. On the other hand, looking at reality [現實], he saw an unspeakable world of suffering [苦患の世の中]. He felt he must labour to bring reality closer to the ideal [理想] as quickly as possible; this he called “working together with God [神と偕に働く].” I believe [思ひます] spiritual joy [法悅] refers primarily [主として] to the state of “enjoying together with God [神と偕に楽しみ].” As for the depth of that experience [宗教的體験], perhaps only those who dwell in that state [境涯] can truly understand it [獨り參し得る]. It is not for me [私の分際] to speak further on such matters.
The Compromise of Established Religions [既成宗教の妥協的態度]
Ryōsen-kun [梁川君] connected his “working together with God [神と偕に働く]” to his own vocation [天職], making it his mission to share this joy [法悅] with others. This “work” [働く] can take many forms [いろ/\の形式]. I have tentatively [假りに] categorised [分類してみました] it into two main types.
The first is to stand on one’s own spiritual ground and lead [導いてくる] others to one’s own standpoint [立場]—primarily through means [方便] such as preaching [説教] or writing [文筆]. This was the path taken by Ryōsen-kun [梁川君], probably. But there is another way. Since some truths cannot be reached through words [言葉] or theories [論説] alone, methods like Zen [禪] were devised [工夫されました]. Regardless [何れにしましても], these are efforts [事業] aimed [目的] at guiding [導いてくる] those who have not yet reached that spiritual level [立場].
The second type of work [一つの事業] is to respond to people’s physical and material needs [他の要求]—to go to them with your own body [身をもつて行く]. This means curing the sick [病氣を治してあげたり] and saving the poor [貧困を救うてあげたり]. The mendicancy [托鉢] of Ittōen [一燈園] or acts of selfless service [懺悔奉仕] belong to this category. This work [事業] can be personal [個人的] or social [社會的]—the Salvation Army [救世軍] and the Kyōfūkai [矯風會] [WCTU] are examples of this on a large scale [大仕掛].
These two forms of religious work [宗教の事業] always exist, but their prominence shifts [消長] with the times [時代]. For instance, in Medieval Europe [歐羅巴の中世紀], the long-suppressed desire for knowledge [知識欲] was stimulated [刺戟せられて] by the material civilisation [物質的文明] of Islam [回教], leading to a great rise [勃興し] in experimental science. As science flourished [興隆し], Copernicus’s [コペルニカス] heliocentric theory [太陽中心説] shook the foundations of theology [神學上の系統] and faith [信仰]. Science [科學] advanced rapidly [長足の進歩], culminating in the 19th century [十九世紀] with Darwin’s [ダルウヰン] theory of evolution [進化説], which overturned human-centred views [人間中心] and revolutionised [一大革命] philosophy [哲學上の思想]. The unprecedented prosperity [繁榮] of scientific material civilisation [物質的文明] meant that the power of knowledge [知識の勢力] began to overwhelm [壓倒する] everything else. Religionists then began to compromise [妥協し], explaining everything through science [科學的に] and neglecting [閑却し去り] mystical experiences [神秘的経験] and intuitive truths [直覺的態度], living in constant fear [惴々として] of being labelled “superstitious” [迷信].
Even in Christianity [基督教] and Buddhism [佛教], the fundamental life [根本生命] of religion has been lost [失ひ去つてしまつた]. Of course, there are splendid exceptions [除外例], but this is the general state [概して申せば] of affairs. We see this same trend in how religion responds to social demands. The development of science [科學の發達]—the steam engine [蒸氣機關] and all the machinery [機械] that followed—completely transformed transport [交通], industry [産業制度], and daily life [生活]. Society was seen as an organic [有機的] whole, and religious work [宗教の事業] became large-scale [大仕掛] to meet the needs of the masses. As a result [其結果], the individual problems of the spirit [靈の問題]—which require personal guidance [個人的に指導する]—were naturally neglected [閑却される].
Religious work [宗教の事業] differs from social or state welfare [國家社会の施設]. If you cure a person’s illness [病氣を治しただけで] but offer nothing for their spirit [靈], that act is religiously meaningless [無意味]; it is merely acting as a doctor’s assistant [お醫者さんの御手傳ひ]. If you build schools [学校] and provide vocational training [職業教育] but forget to nurture the spirit [靈の方面], you are not performing true religious work [本當の宗教事業]. It is a fine thing to build orphanages [孤兒院] and raise children into upright citizens [立派の人間に仕立てて行くと云ふ事], but if we merely treat the symptoms without addressing the spiritual cause [因], we are not performing the work of religion. Nowadays, “social work” [社会事業] is fashionable, and religionists hold many meetings and sessions. These are all well and good [結構なこと], but whether they can truly be called “religious work” [本當の宗教の仕事] is another question entirely. Religion must not stop at satisfying material needs [物質の要求の満足]. It must address the demands of the spirit [靈の要求], and I wonder how many institutions today truly fulfil that spiritual need.
The Rise of New Religions [種々なる宗教の出現]
In short [要するに], many established great religions [旧来の諸大宗教] have compromised with the intellect [理智] and become imprisoned [囚はれて] by utilitarianism [功利の念], neglecting the spiritual problems [靈の問題] that are the very heart [生命] of religious work [宗教的事業]. This neglect has led to the rise [現出] of various “New Religions” [新宗教]. I believe [思ひます] that movements like Ōmoto-kyō [大本教] have appeared precisely because the established religions [既成の大宗教] have forgotten [忘れてしまつた] their own life-force [生命]. To put it in Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] terms, they have forgotten to cultivate [開拓する事] the state of spiritual joy [法悅境], having lost the foundation [根本] of “Enjoying together with God [神と偕に楽しみ].” If “spiritual joy is constant seeing of God” [法悅は不斷の見神なり], then neglecting that spiritual experiment [實驗] has led to the current state of affairs.
Spiritual joy [法悅] wells up and overflows [湧き溢れ來る] when we become one with what we call O-hikari (the Great-Light) [お光り]. Whatever the form [如何なる形] of a religion [宗教], if it has the power [力] to truly move people from their core [根底], it is because it possesses this O-hikari [お光り] at its foundation [根底]. Even Ōmoto-kyō [大本教] cannot be dismissed as mere falsehood [虚偽]; there must be some spark of life [生命] at its core. Many new religions [いろ/\の宗教] have risen in Japan [日本], and if we look closely [よく調べて見ますならば], I am sure [必や] we will find some true light [本當の光り] at the source of those that truly move people.
This light [光り] comes through the human medium [人間を通じ]—I always use the sun [太陽] as an analogy. Just as light [光り] refracts [屈折して来る] when passing through air [空氣] or water [水], divine light inevitably refracts [屈折して来る] when passing through human experience [人間の經驗] and consciousness [意識]. When expressed through the physical body [肉體], it refracts [屈折します] even further. Even in the cases of Śākyamuni [釋尊] and Christ [基督]—if I may dare to speak of them in human terms [人間に引下して]—they could not escape [免れ得ぬ] the influence [影響] of their own heredity [遺傳], education [教育], and environment [境遇]. No matter how pure and genuine the O-hikari [お光り], it must undergo some degree of refraction [屈折].
Because this is an inevitable destiny [必然の運命], the light [光り] will always be refracted [屈折すること] as it is passed through human knowledge [人間の知識の組織] and embodied in our works [種々の事業]. While this cannot be helped [致し方ない], the danger lies in becoming imprisoned [囚はれて] by that particular refractive index [屈折率] or becoming so dazzled [目眩みて] by the individual colours [色彩] appearing from the analysis of light [光りの分析] that we forget the Source [本源の光]. This is how conflict [葛藤] and turmoil [粉擾] arise.
To one who has seen the true light [本當の光り], light remains light [光りは光り] regardless [拘らず] of how it is refracted [屈折の仕方]; and yet, to cause [惹起すと云ふ] conflict by obsessing [囚はれて] over the mode of refraction is the very seed of calamity [禍の種子]. In the religions [宗教] rising today, the light [光り] is certainly present [相違ありません], but when people mistake the refraction [屈折] for the Truth itself, or when they lose sight of the Source [本源] because they are dazzled [眩亂昏倒して] by the strange refractions [不思議の屈折] of their own poor knowledge [お粗末な知識], they fall into what we call “evil cults and depraved rituals” [邪教淫祀]. Therefore, I believe [思ひます] the most vital [大切] and essential [肝要] matter [事] lies in [處にある] liberating [救つて行く] the primal light [本源の光] from the captivity [捕はれ] of its own refraction [其屈折率].
Modern Demands [現代の要求] and Seeing God [見神]
There was once an artist [美術家] named Michelangelo [ミケランゼロ]. One day, he saw a large block of marble [大理石の塊] in a field and cried out: “There [彼處に], inside that stone block [彼の石塊の中に], an angel [天使] is imprisoned [囚へられて居る]! I must go and rescue [救ひ出さなければならない] it!” and he ran [駈けて行つて] with his chisel [鏨] to carve it out [刻みあげた]. Michelangelo [ミケランゼロ] succeeded in carving the heavenly messenger [天の使], but he could not escape [免るゝことは出来ませんでしたらう] the inconveniences [不便不都合] inherent in the marble [大理石] he used to express [現はすに用ゐた] that messenger [天の使].
Similarly, in his experiment [實驗] of seeing God [見神], Ryōsen-kun [梁川君] took the sharp blade [鋭い鋒先き] of reason [理性] and tried to polish away every trace of attachment [囚はれ]. Setting aside [それは兎に角と致しまして] the “inconveniences” [不便] of his own human experience [君の一生の經驗], it remains a fact [事實] that he carved an almost [略] completed statue of an angel [天使の像] from the stone.
I believe [想ふに] the demand of our modern age [現代の要求] is to see the angel [天使]. The heavenly messenger [天の使] is encased [包まれて] in a block of stone [石の塊]. We long to rescue [救ひ出し] it and behold its beautiful form [其美はしき姿]. In our fervent desire [熱烈なる願], some are so desperate to worship [拜みたい] it that they do not care if it is incomplete [不完全] or even grotesque [奇形異相]. At the same time, others reject [排斥してをる] it flatly [一も二もなく] because it appears too strange [奇形異容]. If Ryōsen-kun’s [梁川君] polished statue [像] were brought to where this demand [要求] exists, I believe [思ひます] it would satisfy [満足さする] everyone.
While his work of “working together with God [神と偕に働く]” had only just begun [端緒を開いたに過ぎぬ], he reached the absolute pinnacle [至極の所] of “spiritual joy [法悅]” in “enjoying together with God [神と偕に楽しみ].” Fifteen years after his passing [お亡くなりになつて], recollecting [追憶して] his experience [經驗]—polished [研き上げられた] by reason [理性] through much suffering [苦しまれ] regarding the experiment [實驗] of seeing God [見神]—my emotion [感激] is renewed [新たなるものがあります]. Fortunately, Shunjū-sha [春秋社] is now planning [企て] to publish [發行される] his Complete Works [全集]. This is a wonderful development [非常に結構の事].
While some still ask: “Was Tsunashima Ryōsen [綱島梁川] the father [お父さん] of Pastor Tsunashima [綱島牧師]?”, I believe it is truly meaningful [有意義] for our modern religious life [現代の宗教的生活] to re-examine the significance [意義] of his “seeing God” [見神] anew.
(Because I spoke in such a great hurry [大急ぎで述べましたので], my remarks were even more imperfect than they might otherwise have been [一層不完全になりました]. I humbly offer my thanks [御禮申上げます] for your kind patience with this rough and unpolished talk [不束な話].)



Comments
One might say that the Divine Light is refracted through the prism of human experience and dispersed into the many varieties of personal response. It is the goal of true religion to provide another prism and help its practitioners place that prism in such a way they can see the infinite colours of the Divine as if they had never been dispersed and view the cosmos in its true glory. This is not to say that individual colours lack divinity, each and every one was already present in the Divine, but rather that the way to see God lies in combining the dispersed visions and returning them all to One.
This might or might not appeal on a religious level, but it would not offend against optics. I could develop the analogy further, because the shape of the prism affects the degree of dispersion and its persistence when light exits the prism. It is so very difficult to recombine the colours because human experience comes in so many different forms. Dispersion happens at the boundary, boundaries are also where recombination must be sought. Liminal spaces are dangerous places, but they are also where healing may be possible.
Thanks, as always, for your comments.
Like you, I am always wary when religious or philosophical writers start borrowing scientific terminology; they so often risk sounding like charlatans—or "bullshitters," to use your more direct terminology—to those who actually understand the physics. It is why I personally almost never cite "scientific" evidence in support of my own religious views. Certainly, if we read Nakagiri as a modern physicist, he would be triggering "BS detectors" well beyond the “eleven” made famous by Spinal Tap.
However, I would like to offer a few points in his defence—not as a scientist, but as a philosopher attempting to bridge the gap between the internal and external worlds. I offer this modest defence because, like you, I find plenty in his underlying argument that is deeply appealing.
The "sour note" concerning the term "specific refractive index" is, I believe, a casualty of my own translation rather than an attempt by Nakagiri to claim technical expertise in optics.
In the original Japanese, Nakagiri uses the phrase sono kussetsu-ritsu [其屈折率]. This can also be translated as "its [i.e., the individual’s] particular refractive index." I am more than happy to replace "specific" with "particular" in the text to avoid further technical confusion. Nakagiri wasn’t reaching for — if I have researched this correctly! — the technical constant (dn/dc) used in laboratory light scattering, rather he was using the word 其 in its everyday sense to describe the unique, individual way that a person’s heredity, education, and ego “bend” the light.
You are, or course, absolutely correct that refraction is the fundamental mechanism of a prism; without the light bending as it enters and exits the glass, there would be no dispersion into a spectrum. However, I think your analogy and Nakagiri’s focus on two different aspects of that same physical event:
Your focus is on dispersion (the result): You see the beauty of the "infinite colours" and the spiritual goal of recombining them into white light. It is a powerful vision of religious pluralism and unity—one that feels very Unitarian!
Nakagiri’s focus is on refraction (the act): He is interested in the problems caused by the deviation of the light’s path. In optics, refraction is what makes a light beam miss its target if the medium is uneven. For Nakagiri, the tragedy of human experience is that our "medium"—our biases and limitations—prevents the Great-Light (O-hikari) from remaining unobstructed.
Nakagiri isn't ignoring the prism (the medium); rather, he is warning us that when we get "dazzled" by the resulting colours (the sects and dogmas), we all too easily forget that the light has been diverted from its original path. He is less concerned (in this passage anyway) with the beauty of the resultant rainbow and more concerned with the "bent" nature of human knowledge.
[Reply continued in next comment . . .]
Anyway, to close, I think it’s worth stressing that when Nakagiri was writing in the 1920s, he and his circle were trying to find a new vocabulary to describe the "provisional" nature of all religious dogmas. He wasn’t pretending to be an optician; he was a bridge-builder, using the "new" language of the era to help explain why religions so often fall into turmoil by obsessing over the mode of refraction rather than the Source, the Great Light (O-hikari).
Warmest wishes, as always,
Andrew