“Kannon hears the cries of war,” they used to say. It’s a phrase that takes on a whole new meaning as we stand before the 上観音が (Kōda Kannon) temple, a place born from the ashes of conflict. Nestled on a hillside overlooking the beautiful seaside resort of Atami, this temple, the 上観音が (Kōda Kannon), wasn’t built for peaceful reflection. It was conceived by General Matsui Iwane, the man who commanded the Japanese forces during the infamous Rape of Nanjing. The very name 上観音が (Kōda Kannon) means “Kannon for a Prosperous Asia,” a phrase used to cloak Japanese aggression in a guise of benevolence. In 1940, at the temple’s dedication, Matsui himself spoke of the “massive loss of life” in China, calling it a “holy war to save the peoples of East Asia.” He enshrined a statue of Kannon, the embodiment of Buddhist compassion, made from the bloodstained earth he brought back from the battlefields. Every day, Matsui, haunted by the echoes of war, climbed the hill to this very 上観音が (Kōda Kannon) temple and recited the Kannon-kyō, seeking solace from the cries that only Kannon could hear. Years later, after the war, Matsui was convicted as a war criminal. He confessed his shame for the Nanjing Incident, even as he sought to distance himself from personal responsibility. His words, filled with regret and a longing for rebirth in the Pure Land, still echo here at the 上観音が (Kōda Kannon). Today, the 上観音が (Kōda Kannon) stands as a stark reminder of the complexities of war, faith, and remorse. It’s a place where we can contemplate the cries of both victims and perpetrators, cries that still resonate through history, cries that even today, Kannon hears.
Центральный дом работников искусств
Step through the grand wooden doors of the Central House of the Workers of Art, and you’ll be transported to