Japan's Shinto tradition is deeply rooted in the sacredness of nature, with mountains, seas, forests, rivers, rocks, waterfalls, the sun, and the wind all believed to embody divine energy. To bring this sacredness into daily life, spaces were needed for remembrance, worship, and repeated encounters with the divine. These spaces are the shrines, which serve not merely as religious structures but as sites of Japanese spirituality connecting nature, humanity, ancestors, and the sacred.
Upon entering a shrine, visitors first encounter the torii gate, a striking symbol of Shinto often painted red or left in natural wood tones. The torii is not just an entrance; it marks the boundary between the mundane and the sacred. As individuals pass through, they momentarily set aside the noise and desires of daily life, stepping back from the world of commerce, competition, anger, and fatigue to stand before the divine. Shinto is not a verbose religion, yet the torii gate speaks volumes, inviting a shift in mindset.
The significance of the torii lies in Shinto's emphasis on space. Unlike Buddhism's sutras or Christianity's Bible, Shinto lacks a singular authoritative text. Instead, it expresses itself through space, rituals, gestures, and repetition. Bowing at the torii, walking the worship path, washing hands and mouth, and bowing and clapping before the shrine are all acts of faith. The Japanese engage with the divine not through lengthy explanations but by lowering themselves within sacred spaces.
At the entrance of most shrines, there is a water basin known as temizuya or chozuya, where worshippers cleanse their hands and rinse their mouths. This act is not merely hygienic; in Shinto, water symbolizes purification. As people navigate daily life, their minds may become scattered, bodies soiled, and relationships strained. Before standing before the divine, they must first restore themselves. Washing hands signifies a desire for clarity in action, while rinsing the mouth indicates a commitment to careful speech. Shinto's purification rituals convey that to encounter the sacred, one must first empty oneself.
The basic etiquette for shrine worship is also rich in meaning. Typically, worshippers bow twice, clap twice, and bow once more. While specific practices may vary by shrine, this fundamental structure embodies Shinto's spirit. Bowing is an act of humility, clapping announces one's presence to the divine and awakens the heart, and the final bow expresses gratitude and resolve. This is not a plea for blessings but an act of self-restraint and a reaffirmation of one's heart before the sacred order.
Shrines generally consist of a main hall (honden) where the kami (deity) resides and a worship hall (haiden) where people offer prayers. However, the essence of a shrine extends beyond its buildings. The surrounding forest, worship paths, ancient trees, stones, water, and wind are all integral parts of the shrine. The forest surrounding a shrine exemplifies Shinto's view of nature; shrines are not built within nature but are carefully crafted spaces to preserve its sacredness. The shrine's forest is not mere landscaping but a sacred grove.
Ise Jingu is a prime example of this Shinto space. Considered one of the most sacred shrines in Japan, it is dedicated to Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and has deep ties to the Japanese imperial family. However, Ise Jingu's uniqueness lies not only in its authority but in its practice of rebuilding structures at regular intervals to preserve tradition. While the buildings are renewed, their form and spirit continue. The wood may change, but the artisan's touch remains. This reflects Shinto's philosophy of renewal, suggesting that eternity lies not in clinging to the old but in continuing anew without losing spirit.
Fushimi Inari Shrine in Kyoto showcases Shinto's popular face. The sight of countless red torii gates lining the mountain paths is one of Japan's most recognizable symbols. Inari, the deity of agriculture, abundance, and commerce, has long been worshipped. In agrarian societies, prayers were offered for bountiful harvests, while in commercial societies, prosperity in business was sought. Thus, Shinto's kami are not confined to abstract doctrines but are woven into the fabric of daily life, work, food, and dreams, making Shinto close to the lives of the Japanese.
Meiji Shrine in Tokyo carries a different significance. Dedicated to Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken, it is nestled within a vast forest in the heart of the city. Meiji Shrine illustrates how Shinto connects with the modern state while also demonstrating how contemporary Japanese seek silence in nature amid urban life. Many people visit shrines for their first prayers of the New Year, hold weddings, and mark significant life events. Shinto remains alive in the rituals of Japanese life.
Shrines are also linked to ancestor worship. In Shinto, ancestors are not merely the deceased; they are the roots of families and communities, watching over the lives of their descendants. Ancestor worship reminds individuals that they are not isolated beings but part of a continuum. We are descendants of someone and ancestors to someone else. Shinto's ancestor worship reinforces this sense of continuity, emphasizing that one's present self is connected to the past through memory, bloodlines, and community.
From a Korean perspective, this concept may not seem unfamiliar. Korea also has traditions of mountain spirits, village shrines, sacred trees, ancestor rites, and community rituals. The large trees at village entrances are revered, and offerings are made to mountains and rivers, while respect is paid to ancestors. East Asian agrarian civilizations did not separate nature from ancestors. The shrine culture of Japanese Shinto institutionalizes and spatializes this East Asian sensibility in a distinctly Japanese form, while Korea has preserved it diversely within Confucianism, Buddhism, shamanism, and folk beliefs.
The power of shrines lies in repetition. People visit shrines at the New Year, bring newborns for blessings, and seek guidance during milestones such as school entrance, employment, marriage, and business ventures. This cannot be dismissed as mere superstition. At significant moments, individuals need to realign themselves before a greater order. Shrines serve as a station for such reflections, allowing people to pause in their busy lives, cleanse themselves, bow, express gratitude, and begin anew.
However, shrine culture has not always existed purely as a natural spirituality. While shrines have been central to local communities, they have also been intertwined with state power since modern times. It is crucial to view both the original meanings of shrine culture and the potential for historical distortion with balance. Shrines can be beautiful spaces connecting nature, ancestors, and community, but when combined with nationalism, they can become dangerous instruments of mobilization. Spirituality should humble humanity, not serve as a tool for absolute power.
■ Matsuri: The Festival Spirit that Moves Japanese Communities
If shrines represent spatial spirituality, matsuri embodies dynamic spirituality. While shrines create sacred spaces, matsuri brings that sacredness into the community. Matsuri is a festival, but it is not merely entertainment. It is a ritual where the divine meets humanity, a communal act of self-affirmation, and a cultural mechanism that binds together seasons, labor, and memory. Understanding matsuri is essential to grasping the communal spirit of the Japanese.
Matsuri begins with gratitude and prayer. In agrarian societies, humans depended on nature. Rain needed to arrive on time, typhoons had to pass, rice had to ripen, and the sea had to be abundant. While people worked hard, they could not obtain food without nature's permission. Therefore, villagers prayed to the kami for abundance and offered thanksgiving rituals after harvests. Matsuri was born from this rhythm of gratitude and prayer, representing a way for humans to humble themselves before nature.
Typically, matsuri features a mikoshi, a portable shrine. People carry the mikoshi, believed to be inhabited by the kami, through the village. Drumming, flute music, chants, parades, dancing, food, lanterns, and flags all come together. This scene is not just a spectacle; it signifies that the divine does not remain confined to the shrine but moves throughout the village. The kami is not a being trapped within the shrine but emerges into the alleys, markets, homes, fields, and beaches. Matsuri is an act of extending sacredness to the entire community.
In this process, individuals reaffirm their connection to the community. Matsuri cannot be performed alone. Some carry the mikoshi, others prepare food, some clear the paths, others care for children, some beat drums, and some offer prayers. The festival embodies a hierarchy of roles. Everyone is both a protagonist and a supporter. This is the social power of matsuri. People who usually live separately come together as one village through the festival.
Japan's sense of order and cooperative culture is deeply connected to this matsuri tradition. Matsuri teaches shared rules. If one person rushes ahead, the procession collapses. If one neglects their role, the whole event is disrupted. When carrying the mikoshi, everyone must synchronize their movements. No one should exert too much effort alone, nor should anyone fall behind. This is community training. Matsuri takes the form of enjoyment, but it contains ethics of responsibility and cooperation.
Matsuri also serves as a repository of regional identity. Each region in Japan has its unique matsuri. Festivals like Kyoto's Gion Matsuri, Osaka's Tenjin Matsuri, Tokyo's Kanda Matsuri, Aomori's Nebuta Matsuri, and Sapporo's Snow Festival reflect local history, climate, and livelihoods. Some festivals began to ward off epidemics and disasters, while others have continued to pray for bountiful catches and harvests. Matsuri is how regions remember themselves.
In this sense, matsuri is not merely a tourist attraction. While many matsuri have become vital resources for tourism and local economies today, their roots lie in communal memory. The fact that a village has maintained the same festival for hundreds of years signifies that it has not forgotten its story. Festivals preserve memories that are easily lost in physical form. They represent a history not read in books but lived through walking, carrying, singing, eating, and dancing.
Shinto's ancestor worship also comes alive within matsuri. Many Japanese festivals honor not only nature deities but also the memories of ancestors and predecessors who have protected the village. Ancestors do not remain in the past; they live within the ethics and order of the community. Through festivals, descendants express gratitude to their ancestors and realize that they too will one day be remembered by future generations. This creates a temporal community where the living, the dead, the past, present, and future coexist within a single order.
The relationship between Shinto and Buddhism is also significant here. For centuries, Shinto and Buddhism have influenced each other in Japan, a phenomenon known as Shinbutsu Shugo. Deities have sometimes been interpreted as manifestations of Buddhas, and Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples have coexisted in the same space. People pray for blessings in Shinto shrines while entrusting matters of death and the afterlife to Buddhism, harmonizing their religious practices in daily life. While this may seem contradictory doctrinally, it has been a natural coexistence in practice. The Japanese approach to religion has emphasized practical harmony over exclusive faith declarations.
This religious flexibility is both an advantage and a limitation of Japanese culture. The advantage lies in tolerance and harmony, allowing various beliefs and rituals to coexist in daily life. However, the limitation is a lack of clarity in principles. When religion remains merely a custom of life, it may not sufficiently reflect on the risks of merging with power. The history of Shinto's connection with modern nationalism must be revisited at this point.
What we should focus on is how shrines and matsuri have sustained Japanese life. Shrines are spaces of stillness, while matsuri represent times of movement. Shrines are where individuals cleanse their hearts, and matsuri are when communities align their bodies. Shrines humble individuals before nature and ancestors, while matsuri teach how to live together with neighbors. Together, these elements have deeply rooted Shinto in the lives of the Japanese.
Modern society is rapidly dismantling communities. Urbanization weakens villages, and digital civilization connects people while simultaneously isolating them. People may be connected all day yet lose a sense of deep belonging. In this era, shrines and matsuri pose questions: Is individual freedom sufficient? Can healthy individuals exist without the memory of community? Can society endure without festivals and rituals?
Korean society cannot escape these questions either. We also have traditions of village communities, such as the Dangsanje, Seonghwangje, Dure, and seasonal customs. However, rapid industrialization and urbanization have led to the disappearance of many of these traditions. There is no need to envy Japan's matsuri unconditionally. However, we must reconsider the power of rituals and festivals that sustain communities. People do not live by bread alone. They do not live by work alone. People become communal beings through shared memories, gratitude, and joy.
The greatest lesson from shrines and matsuri is the 'restoration of relationships.' It is about reconnecting the relationships between humans and nature, the living and the ancestors, the individual and the community, and the everyday and the sacred. Modern individuals have gained much but lost relationships. Nature has become a resource, ancestors have become photographs, neighbors have become anonymous others, and festivals have become consumer events. Shinto's shrines and matsuri prompt us to rethink these lost connections.
Of course, we do not need to accept Shinto as it is. Shinto, shaped by Japan's history and culture, belongs to Japan. However, the reverence for nature, the memory of ancestors, the responsibility to the community, the sense of purifying space, and the culture of celebrating seasons are all values worth reflecting on across East Asia. We should learn from the good and be wary of the dangerous. This is the stance of truth, justice, and freedom.
Ultimately, the second face of Japanese Shinto is community. While 20 aspects of Shinto speak to the sacredness of nature, the 21st aspect shows how that sacredness lives and moves among people. Shrines create sacred spaces, torii gates establish boundaries, purification rituals cleanse the heart, worship humbles humanity, and matsuri bind the community together. All these elements combine to form the spiritual essence of the Japanese way of life.
※ This article was generated using AI and has been reviewed by an editor.
* This article has been translated by AI.
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