By the time of the 12th century Heike Wars, Japan was firmly a Buddhist nation – that is to say, Buddhism was firmly entrenched in Kyoto, the imperial capital. However, and this is true even to this present day, throughout the entire nation, Shinto shrines coexisted with Buddhist temples – indeed, there was less strife between Shinto and Buddhism than there was between the various sects of Buddhism struggling for influence at the Imperial court. Nowadays it is said in Japan that you are born Shinto (they take babies to the “shrine” to be blessed), marry Shinto (the wedding ceremony is a gloriously expensive Shinto do), and die Buddhist (funerals are presided over by the “bonzes” or Buddhist priests, along with the various follow-ups – the bestowing of the eternal name to replace the deceased’s earthly name, etc.) This all allows for a rich shamanistic (Shinto) folklore of spirits, demons, shape-shifters and mischief makers to exist side by side with the more philosophical (and refined) doctrines of the various Buddhist sects. In the Heike times, the Jodo or Pure Land sect of Buddhism was the most influential due to its power base in Kyoto, the traditional seat of the emperor. “Tales of the Heike” are really a series of historical short stories that follow two themes of interest to this course. First, they tell the stories of the heroes of the battles that established the Heike (Taira) clan as masters (Shoguns) of medieval Japan. The Heike left the Imperial Capital in Kyoto and moved the administrative (Shogunate) capital northeast to Kamakura. In this system of political governance, the Emperor reigns, but the Shogun rules. The second theme is the theme of personal enlightenment (what Christians would call salvation). This theme of disengagement with worldly matters and retirement to the temple or the countryside to contemplate eternity echoes what we saw in the poetry of medieval China, although the resulting enlightenment is a bit more doctrinaire. It also allows for the inclusion of the concerns of the women (who loom large throughout Japanese literary history – almost as if literature were somehow effeminate and like so many other concerns, beneath the notice of a warrior living moment to moment in the presence of his own death). I would like you this week to compare these two themes I’ve outlined above with the literature (heroic and lyric) we’ve read so far, using details from the Japanese stories to illustrate your points.