Hoon-ji, founded in 1882, is a little temple that lives not so much in the shadow of its über-famous neighbor Kinkaku-ji (Golden Pavilion), but in the shadow of a hideous 1980s apartment block. (Why such structures are allowed to be built in the proximity of temples and shrines I'll never know.) It's diminutive size and status however belie its huge role in the annual Buddhist ritual Gozan no Okuribi or more commonly, Daimonji. To mark the end of the weeklong religious holiday called Obon, on August 16th bonfires are set alight on five Kyoto mountain tops. Of the five giant symbols that burn on these mountains, only one - Hidari Daimonji - on Mount Okita has the fire consecrated at a temple and brought up the mountain. Hoon-ji is the source of the Hidari Daimonji bonfire.
Just after dusk 40 men bearing torches make their way, first through the neighborhood streets, then up the narrow path leading to the giant 大 kanji character (meaning "great") carved in the mountainside. There is one enormous bamboo torch 3 meters long which serves as the main fire from which the 53 points of the 大 are lit. Every year the duty of carrying this torch up the mountain falls to one young man from the community.
This is an awesome spectacle, a river of fire moving through the streets, black smoke and the smell of burning bamboo. Live embers fall from the torch every 10 or 20 meters and dot the route with a faint red glow. There is a large iron gate where the foot path begins and spectators are prevented from going beyond this. The men disappear in the darkness, only their torches visible floating up the mountain like fireflies in a parade, up, up, up.
It is beautiful to see from below, the fire dancing in the night as the men move into position. A sort of choreography. The 大 is alive, a living breathing thing.
At exactly 8:15 the bonfires are lit. I have seen this before, from a great distance - from the Katsura River. But it is something special to witness close up, to see the flames licking the darkness.
After about 45 minutes the bonfires are reduced to a mere flicker. Slowly they die out. Most people had gone by 8:30. The parking lot at Kinkaku-ji, from where I was watching, is all but empty. Suddenly the little fireflies reappear on the mountaintop. Like an encore performance, they flutter about, then gather together and begin their descent. Magical!
I wait at Hoon-ji with a few dozen other people from the neighborhood to welcome the men back, as if from a long journey. Inside some women in kimono chant sutra and beat gongs, perhaps praying for their safe return. Men, young and old, fathers and sons, in their indigo 大 happi jackets, tenugui tied around their heads arrive back at the temple. Sweat and soot and pride on their faces.
I bow slightly and say, "お疲れ様です" (good work). Then I make my way back to Katsura. It feels like summer is over now.
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