The Escape-continued

A bald acolyte opened the door and to his astonishment found a huge mountain of a man crumpled on the steps. He ran and called the head abbot.

It took four monks to finally drag his big frame into the alcove. “Where did he come from? What clan is he from? He looks like….. ” The monks conversed with one another. Tsutomu let out a deep moan, “Please hide me. They will come.” He tried to stand, but everything started to spin around. He felt his legs go limp and he collapsed into darkness.

He woke up with the sunlight streaming through a small window and the sound of cicadas screaming out their summer symphony. He felt bone tired and sore all over. The battle yesterday was a blur. He remembered the enemy streaming down from all sides of the mountain, his fellow samurai overwhelmed by spears, his Lord cut down by a wave of calvary, and him swinging his sword like a mad man. “How did I get away? I must have killed at least fifty men before I felt that arrow hit my shoulder. The force threw me off the cliff into a bamboo grove. I climbed and climbed. I only heard one word, live!”

There came a knock on the small trap door leading to the cellar. A smallish man with fox-like eyes peeked his head through the door and climbed down the ladder with a tray of hot rice, takuan, natto, and a stone kettle of tea. He bowed and placed the food in front of Tsutomu. He immediately grabbed the bowl and shoveled the hot, steaming rice and soy beans into his mouth like a ravenous wolf. In between mouthfuls he crunched on pickled turnips and gulped down the green tea. He looked up at the monk and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“What is your name?” replied the monk.

“My name is Amekura.” He spoke with rice spilling out of his mouth. “You were lucky to get away. They came by last night asking if we saw a wounded samurai come this way. They were very angry.” Tsutomu stopped chewing and smirked at his luck. He reached into his pocket and squeezed a bronze image of the Buddha his mother gave him twenty years ago. He looked at its weathered features and remembered all the times he rubbed it out of nervousness before a big battle.

The monk sat amused watching this big samurai squeeze his amulet like a little child. “Thank you for hiding me. I don’t know when I can come back to repay you, but I will some day.” The monk scooped more rice into his bowl and passed it back to him. “Did you know that you have cuts all over your body? It’s amazing that none of them penetrated deep enough to cut a vein or vital organ. Buddha was definitely watching over you.”

He slurped down the last grains of rice with hot tea and collapsed back onto the hard maple floors. Looking up at the ceiling he asked, “Can I stay here until I heal up? I just need to regain a little more strength.”

“You can stay here only under one condition” said the monk. “What is that?” “You have to shave your head and put on a robe. We cannot risk having someone find you.” Tsutomu laughed out loud at the thought of becoming a monk, even for a short time. If only his friends could see him now. They would all die of laughter at the thought of Tsutomu, the warrior, becoming a monk. “If only this monk knew?” thought Tsutomu.

“I will put on whatever you want and shave my head if I can stay a few more days in your monastery.” It was the monk’s turn to laugh as he refilled his tea cup. This made Tsutomu feel a little uneasy. As a warrior you always try to notice the slightest change in another person’s demeanor or words. He then waved it off as nothing and immediately fell back to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself in another room and in a monk’s robe. His hair was completely shaved off and he felt drowsy as if drugged. “Who are these people?” thought Tsutomu. “Hey, monk! Where are you? What is the meaning of this? ” He soon heard footsteps and then from the top of the roof a wooden peep hole opened up and the same monk smiled down at him. “Are you feeling better? We took the liberty of dressing your wounds and cleaning you up. Do you like your new room?”

“This is not a room, but a jail cell you little rat. What did you put into my tea?” “Now, now, you’re still healing up. Don’t get all worked up. We are doing this for your own good.” “What do you mean my own good? What type of monks are you?” shouted Tsutomu.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” “We know who you are. You are the mighty Tsutomu Amekura of the Oda clan. We know you have killed many with your sword. Buddha brought you to us for the purpose of extinguishing your life. We cannot let you go on killing and bringing war to this world. You must be executed. Pray the sutras and prepare to die.”

“I will rip your head off, you little worm. I could crush you with one hand! You call yourselves monks!” He tried to jump up and grab the face of the monk. “By the way, my name is Ukon, and I will take care of you during your stay.”

“Let me out now you lying dogs! Where are my sword and things?”

“You will get them back in paradise” laughed Ukon. He then shut the peep hole and scurried away. The sound of many sliding doors placed him some where deep in the bowels of the temple.

Tsutomu threw himself at the hard oak walls of the room. The walls never rattled once as he kicked, punched, and threw his immense body at every side. After one hour of trying he finally gave up. “I must think. There must be a way out. ”

Takeda Shingen, the Lord of Kai

We were rambling along in our Mira (the Japanese version of the Mini-Cooper) and entering the city of Kofu. I dragged two Shizuoka University students along with me on my quest to find the remains of Takeda Shingen's empire. My friends were amused that this Potagee/Hawaiian was so interested in Japanese history. They felt an obligation to accompany me on this odyssey because they feared I would get lost in the mountains of Kofu. I was a mixture of crazed historian and Christian missionary in their eyes. A good combination if you ask me.

We finally got to the heart of Kofu and the remains of Shingen's castle. All that was left was the stone foundations of the former fortification. The wooden structure was burned to the ground by Tokugawa Ieyasu after the battle of Temmokuzan. The Takeda clan ceased to exist after this engagement.

I was saddened that such an illustrious house experienced complete annihilation. As I remembered the stone foundations I realized the only kingdom that will last is the Kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. His kingdom will become the highest mountain or empire in the universe (Isaiah 2). All will go the way of the Takeda and other earthly kingdoms. They will be swept away by the power of heaven. Hallelujah!!!

During the 16th century Kofu was called Kai. It was known as the domain of Takeda Shingen, the most feared war lord in all of Japan. His fierce warriors and soldiering skills crushed his adversaries and gave him the reputation, the tiger of Kai. Like Napoleon, Takeda Shingen relied heavily on mass cavalry charges. He would literally run through his enemy lines. His war banner captured the dominating spirit of his army, Fu-Rin-Ka Zan (wind, forest, fire, mountain). He trained his army to be swift as the wind, silent as a forest, fierce as a fire, and immovable like a mountain. They were unstopppable.

They finally met defeat under the command of his hot headed son, Takeda Katsuyori. He ordered a frontal assault against Oda Nobunaga's (another famous war lord) line of defense. What he didn't know was that the Oda line bristled with matchlock guns. They decimated the once proud cavalry with volley after volley of gunfire. This marked the beginning of the end for the Takeda clan.

Proverbs states, "Pride goes before destruction." Takeda Katsuyori and many other arrogant leaders followed this same foolish path.

Pridefulness destroys many before their prime. 1 Peter 5:5-6 states, "Young men be submissive to those who are older. clothe yourself with humility toward one another, for God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, that he may lift you up in due time." Good words for those who want longevity in their service for God.

My time in Kofu was both interesting and sobering. We made it a point to buy some peaches before we came home. The Kofu peach is world famous. Did you ever eat a peach that exploded in your mouth with juicy sweetness? The liquid from the fruit literally dripped down the side of mouth as I bit into it. It was the best. God is good. He wants the best for us. He wants us to produce good fruit.

Bushido and Christianity

Are they complimentary? The simple answer is no. One is steeped in pride and the other in love. Many have written books trying to amalgamate the two, but you can only take the similarities so far.

Yet, the emphasis on honor, loyalty, frugality, and courage strengthened generations of young men in the land of the rising sun. It made the Samurai the ultimate fighting machine because of their willingness to commit unto death. That is why Truman decided to drop the atomic bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. He knew the Japanese would fight unto the death and inflict a tremendous toll on the allies. Millions would have died. The Bushido Code would have caused the complete annihilation of a nation too. Thank God cooler and saner heads prevailed when the Japanese finally surrendered in the face of inevitable destruction. Today, they set the standard on how a nation can rise from the ashes and become an economic juggernaut. They transferred their martialistic energies toward business. The modern day samurai is now dressed in a business suit and carries a brief case. They show their honor by working long hours at their company, sacrificing all for its success.

The ultimate act of honor for the medieval warrior was to commit seppuku or self immolation. The samurai would take a short sword and slit open his stomach. The pain was so unbearable that he asked a friend or fellow samurai to chop off his head. This was a way for a samurai to retain his honor and even increase his stock despite the shame of defeat.

Thank goodness Jesus died on the cross so that we don't have to kill ourselves to hold on to this imaginary honor. Jesus' death bestowed on us righteousness, sanctification, and redemption (1 Cor 1:30). He poured the honor of forgiveness and holy perfection on our lives through his death.

Seppuku is the ultimate form of self effort or pride to gain right standing in the eyes of the warrior class. Bushido actually breeds a culture of death. Today, the Japanese are at the top of the list, or near the top, when it comes to suicide. It's tragic.

I honor the Japanese culture and history. I value loyalty, courage, frugality, honesty, and other qualities inculcated by Bushido, but the same can be had and more through Christ Jesus our Lord. He is the ultimate Daimyo (Lord). All praise, glory, and honor belong to Him.

The Escape

“Kill the dog if you find him!” The red armored ashigaru went scurrying back and forth through the thrush trying to find Tsutomu. “I swear I struck him with my arrow!” shouted one of the mounted samurai. “He must be somewhere near. He could not have gotten very far.”

Tsutomu whispered, “ Trot my way and I will strike your pompous head off.” He gripped his katana with a grimace that revealed the pain exploding throughout his body. The arrow struck him in the right shoulder between the armor plating. The shock threw him to the ground.

He slowly climbed higher and higher away from the blood thirsty voices of his enemy. The cypress trees canopying the mountain became his big brother shielding him from the wolf pack. “I just want to lie down and sleep. The cool moss feels so good. No, I must continue to climb higher and higher. I must live.”

“Tsutomu, you cowardly dog come out and fight! Die like a real samurai!”
“And you are?” thought Tsutomu. “You will all die by the edge of my blade for your treachery.” The predatory growls grew fainter as he slowly ascended the misty Yamagata mountains. “Thank you Buddha for having mercy on me.”

He pulled himself up over slippery rock and muddy path. He stumbled higher and higher into the mist. “Is that the sound of a stream?” The song of water caused him to forget all caution. He ran and threw himself into the foamy torrent. The smooth pebbles of the streambed felt cool and clean as he lapped water into his dry mouth. He tore a patch of watercress from the crevice of a rock and crunched on its peppery leaves for nourishment. “I need real food. They will search here. I need to keep moving.”

He reached over his back and with one quick pull, ripped the arrow from his shoulder. He muffled his groan. “Why didn’t my armor stop this damn arrow? Why wear this stupid, heavy thing anyway? It doesn’t work!” Staggering to his feet, he moved slowly up the stream. The finches flitted over his head as he went deeper and deeper into the mountain forest. Bamboo groves, here and there, provided a natural palisade against the harsh mountain wind that swept over this region. They rustled and whistled in the blustery weather.

Pushing aside brush and branches, he refrained from chopping anything with his katana. His stealth training as a ninja proved useful in evading search parties. “The less I touch, the less they’ll find.” He discovered some healing herbs under a red pine tree, chewed it, and placed the regurgitated mixture right on his open wound. It stung.

The sun had set a long time ago and fatigue began to get the best of him. “Is that a temple up ahead? Yes, it is!” With his katana dragging in the weeds, he made for the dim light coming from one of the windows. He heard chanting and smelled the incense. He crawled up the cold, stone steps and banged on the weather beaten door.