Condolences on a Deceased Husband Chapter17

I come now to the matter of Jirō Hyōe-no-jō of Owari, whom I met in the past. Unlike most people, in the course of spreading these doctrines of mine I, Nichiren, have occasion to meet with a great many persons. But there are fewer than one in a thousand who impress me as truly admirable. Jirō Hyōe was not inclined to heed my teachings, yet as a person he was quite without offensive manners and in fact was a man of compassion and goodwill toward all. I cannot of course vouch for his inner feelings, but when I met him he struck me as a straightforward person.

His wife is a believer in the Lotus Sutra and therefore, although he may not have thought that it is the true sutra, it seems unlikely that he himself was completely opposed to it. This is a cause for hope. On the other hand, he put his faith in the Nembutsu and the Nembutsu believers, who disparage the Lotus Sutra, and was probably a Nembutsu believer himself, so I have doubts as to what kind of existence awaits him in his next life.

It is like the case of those who take service in the palace of the ruler and labor diligently there. Some are rewarded by the ruler’s favor and some are not. But if any of them commits the slightest error, it is quite certain that that person will be punished. It is the same way with the Lotus Sutra. No matter how fervently a person may appear to put faith in it, if, knowingly or unknowingly, he has dealings with the enemies of the Lotus Sutra, he will undoubtedly end up in the hell of incessant suffering.

But whatever may happen to Jirō Hyōe, I cannot help feeling pity when I think of the grief his wife must be suffering. She must feel like a wisteria vine in full bloom that has twined itself around a pine tree, but finds to her consternation that the pine has suddenly toppled over, or like ivy on a fence when the fence has collapsed.

She enters her home, but there is no husband there; it is as though the house were destroyed and had lost its pillar. Visitors appear, but there is no one to step forward and greet them. In the dark of night her bedroom is bleak and lonely. When she visits the grave, she sees the marker on it but hears no familiar voice.

Again, when she imagines her departed husband, she wonders who is accompanying him as he travels past the mountains of death and over the river of three crossings, or whether he is weeping as he makes the journey all alone. Is he wondering why his wife and children who have remained behind have sent him all alone on this journey, is he protesting in his grief that this is not in accord with the promises they made?

As the autumn night wanes away and the sound of a winter storm comes to her ears, the wife’s sorrow must grow heavier than ever. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.

Nichiren

The sixth day of the ninth month in the first year of Kōan [1278], cyclical sign tsuchinoe-tora

To the lay nun Myōhō