Mizuko Kuyô
A statue of Jiso Bosatsu.
Photograph courtesy the Metropolitan Museum of Art: Jizo Bosatsu, 14th Century, Japan
This short piece was taken from the essay I’ve written for the Buddhist Ethics assignment. It is assessing the extent to which the Japanese mizuko kuyô rite for aborted foetuses has anything of value in Zen Buddhism.
Before we move into Japan’s approach to abortion, I think that the ethical and historical context can be helpful in understanding the full picture. Japanese ethics find their origins split between Confucianism, Shintō and Buddhism. Confucianism emphasised the importance of family and connections that exist between people. Shintō attached much importance to the relationship with nature, ritual and strengthening the nation. Finally Buddhism and its ethics draw attention to moral conduct (Harvey, 2000: 333).
After the Second World War, the baby-boom took place after the soldiers returned home. The government concerned with illegal abortions allowed abortion on economic grounds, followed by an amendment added in 1952 which authorised doctors to carry abortion without a need to explain their decision to the authorities. This is how abortion on demand became a preferable birth control without technically being legal (La Fleur, 1992: 53 ; Harvey, 2000: 333). Sexual education and contraceptive methods were not discussed at schools, which Harvey explains was due to the Confucianism’s coy approach to the matter. Equally, Japanese women were hesitant to use a diaphragm since a male gynaecologist would likely have to fit it. Bardwell Smiths says that it is typical for women to have had at least two abortions by the time they are forty years old (Bardwell Smith, 1988: 70).
One of the phenomenon that received interest from scholars around the world across the years, was the mizuko kuyô rite. Mizuko translates as a “water child” or children, and refers to an aborted foetus as well as a stillborn children or infants who died shortly after birth. While kuyô refers to a Buddhist priests-led memorial ritual for the mizuko spirit and as a solace to the mother (Bardwell Smith, 1988: 65) it literally means “to offer and nourish” (Bardwell Smith, 1988: 73). As Harvey points out the term implies that mizuko viability in this world is still up for debate, since its form has not been ‘solidified’, and the 'returning' it to the formless state would be acceptable. Traditionally, parents may wish for the child's return following a brief "pause" in the mizuko limbo and engage in rituals to assist the mizuko in obtaining a higher place among the kami and the ancestors or in a Pure Land among the Buddhas. Harvey argues that the phenomenon of mizuko “being-in-flux”doesn’t disagree with the Buddhist views and it simply echos the concept of impermanence (Harvey, 2000: 335). LaFleur points out that: ‘Mizuko is life, but a liquid form of it. It cannot be other than ambiguous not a mere 'thing' but also not up to what is unqualifiedly human’ (LaFleur, 1998: 391).
Mizuko Kuyô rite can be performed individually or as a part of a rite for many miuzko. The rite can take place once, monthly and also on the death anniversary. The service includes chanting Sūtras like The Heart Sūtra (Prajñāpāramitā Sūtra), the Lotūs Sutra (Saddharma Puṇḍarīka Sūtra), as well as the songs of praise to Boddhisattva Jizō). Jizō is one of the Bodhisattvas who swore to assist people up till Maitreya, the next Buddha, arrives on earth to give teachings. He is seen as caring for dead children, particularly in Japan. During the service on behalf of the children, offerings are made to Buddha and an image child or Jizō is placed in the temple. Families frequently visit the sculptures to wash them and leave gifts like flowers and toys as a way of connecting with the deceased child. Letters of apology can be placed next to them and the statues can be dressed in scarves and caps (Harvey, 2000: 335-336).
There are scholars who disapprove the mizuko kuyô rite and are strongly assured that the concept behind the memorial service has no value in it and is far removed from the classical Buddhist views. However, LaFleur in response to Helen Hardacre's “Marketing the Menacing Fetus in Japan” essay argues:
‘Hardacre is correct in her repeated references to the fact that there is no [Buddhist] canonical basis for the idea of mizuko’ but then he follows by saying: ‘All kinds of practices marriage of the clergy, for instance are viewed by Japanese Buddhists as morally acceptable even though the “canon” clearly would favor the opposite. So too with the rite for fetuses. Since the genre of rituals called kuyô does have a canonical pedigree, many of Japan’s Budhists think it only proper to treat an aborted fetus with the level of respect this rite offers. Canonical or not, most of them think of this ritual as Buddhist’ (LaFleur, 1998: 391-392).
In Buddhist philosophy even a murderer can become enlightened. In the Angulimala Sūtra we read a story about a murderer who wore the victims fingers around his neck and attempted to kill the Buddha as his thousandth kill but instead he was converted to become a Buddhist. He also attained enlightenment after taking the Buddha's role as a student. Since abortion equals killing a human being, and even despite such a horrible act, one has a possibility to become awakened because people can change. Therefore, looking at it from this perspective, attending a mizuko kuyô service, while acknowledging that abortion is bad, and promising not to commit it again, can be seen as a wholesome action and being neither against or in line with Buddhist views.
While researching about the mizuko kuyô rite, one thing that was clearly missing to me, was to hear the voices of women who attend the memorial services. This is when I came across an article written by Richard W. Anderson and Elain Martin. The “Rethinking the Practice of Mizuko Kuyõ in Contemporary Japan Interviews with Practitioners at a Buddhist Temple in Tokyo” presented research that in the words of Anderson and Martin: ‘Has not been to say that previous studies of mizuko kuyõ have been wrong, but to suggest that they have provided an incomplete picture’ (Anderson, Martin, 1997: 141).
They interviewed six participants at the Honpõ-ji, Nichiren Buddhist temple located in a large temple complex in Tokyo that performed mizuko kuyô one day every month. We learn that each of the participants visits the temple for very different reasons. Despite never having been pregnant, one of the women attended mizuko kuyô every month for three years because she has “had spiritual experiences and seen things.” The other shares that she joins mizuko kuyô in order to pay respects to her deceased parents in the form of senzo kuyô, as well as for the aborted foetus. One of the attendants comes on a behalf of her mother who had an abortion in the period between having two daughters (Anderson, Martin, 1997: 124-131). Thanks to the research, we are expanding our knowledge about mizuko kuyô and we learn that one can also attend the service:
on behalf of a family member
for the soul of a grandmother who had an abortion
in the interest of their own health
‘due to feelings of gratitude that they felt were common to the practice of all forms of kuyô’. (Anderson, Martin, 1997: 129)
In contrast to Bardwell’s argument that ‘we are dealing with a phenomenon in which there is very little, if any communal support’ (Bardwell Smith, 1988: 75), Anderson’s and Martin’s small research indicates that saying that mizuko kuyô has only an individual nature is perhaps misleading. They argue:
‘Leaving aside the question of whether the local community in the Edo period shared responsibility for an abortion, it appears to us that many contemporary women bear this burden neither alone nor in total secrecy’ (Anderson, Martin, 1997: 129).
