The Wayward Shrines of Kyoto, Japan

Me with a deer in front of Todai-ji Temple in Nara, Japan.

Author: Steele Engelmann | Major: Anthropology | Semester: Summer 2023

On the sprawling streets, the picturesque parks, and the spectacular squares of Kyoto, Japan one can find a multitude of things. Street vendors selling freshly fried skewers of chicken, tourists taking photos of ancient architecture, temples receiving partitioners for daily worship, and businessmen drinking beer in front of convenience stores. However, if you look off to the side you may also find a small, inconspicuous box, no bigger than a washing machine, placed on a stone pedestal. This is a wayward shrine.

My name is Steele Engelmann and I studied Anthropology in Kyoto, Japan during the 2023 Summer term. More specifically, I studied religion and society in an urban environment as a part of my Honors Undergraduate Thesis, “The Houses Built for Gods: Site Sacralization of Urban Shrines in Kyoto.” In my classes, I learned all about Shintoism, the native religion of Japan, and the mythical kami deities that exist throughout Japan. I also learned about the introduction of Buddhism into Japan and its effect on Japanese cultural development. Actively learning about the culture and traditions of the environment I was living in allowed me to better appreciate the people I talked to and the things I saw.

A wayward shrine in the remote village of Shirakawa-go. A statue of Jizo is seen inside, blessing travelers as they make their way to the village center.

It was through my studies and conversations with residents, that I slowly began to better understand what these obscure little shrines throughout Kyoto were for. Most of these structures enshrined the Japanese Buddhist deity Jizo who blesses children and travelers while others enshrined Shinto kami who protect the neighborhood from calamity and ruin. These wayward shrines act as the focal point for communities throughout Kyoto, and some are maintained, cleaned, dusted, incense lit, and offerings collected, every day.

In late August, the city of Kyoto holds one of the most notable festivals in all of Japan. On August 16th, as the final act of the Obon Festival, the mountains surrounding the city are lit on fire in the shape of Japanese characters. The largest of these fires, the Japanese character for “big” on Mount Daimonji, burns brightly for 40 minutes as onlookers mourn and celebrate the souls of the recently deceased. Standing on the banks of the Kamo River immersed in the collective effervescence of the whole ordeal is an experience I will never forget; however, it was the festival that occurred the following weekend that truly captivated me.

On August 19th, wayward shrines around Kyoto became the venue of numerous neighborhood celebrations. The Jizo-bon Festival lasts from August 19th to August 26th and in stark contrast to the melancholic Obon Festival, Jizo-bon is a whimsical celebration of community and children. To my great surprise, these wayward shrines had suddenly been brought to the foreground of the local landscape. Families, friends, and neighbors played games with their children while others left offerings to Jizo at the shrine. Another Jizo-bon had music and dancing while another had food and a pool. All over Kyoto pockets of communities were celebrating their children’s future with grand affairs and I had found myself in the middle of it all. The material I had been learning about in my courses had truly extended itself beyond the classroom walls, the temples I walked through, the teahouses I sat in, and the people I saw became the paper on which my thesis would be written. It was an experience that was exclusive to my studies and adventures abroad.

Often when you begin applying to study abroad programs, you’ll hear stuff like, “Studying abroad was life-changing” or “My whole outlook on life has changed ever since I went abroad,” and as cliché as it sounds it is true. I am not the same person I was 2 months ago. Doing research abroad challenged me to leap outside my comfort zone, immerse myself in the cultural landscape I found myself in, embrace jetlag, and set out on an adventure. The best advice I have for people who want to study abroad is simple: try something new. It doesn’t have to be something big like taking a six-hour bus to a village to hike a mountain to visit a remote shrine. It could be something like trying octopus for the first time or asking a local for a dinner recommendation. Regardless of whatever you decide to try, enjoy the outcomes, and experience the wonders of studying abroad.