Beyond Borders and Sects: The Ōbaku Canon as a Cross-Sectarian and Transnational Project

Abstract

The Ōbaku Edition of the Buddhist Canon, initiated and spearheaded by Tetsugen Dōkō (鐵眼道光 1630–1682), profoundly influenced Japanese Buddhism and printing culture. Although the Ōbaku Edition has long been recognized as a product of cross-border collaboration, earlier studies have primarily focused on its textual features and religious significance after publication. As a result, the specific mechanisms and significance of its transnational nature have remained underexplored. This study revisits the canon’s compilation as a complex trans-sectarian and transnational social practice. Drawing on a variety of sources, it provides new insights into the production of the Ōbaku Canon, showing that this trans-sectarian project was driven by the interplay of several key dynamics: transnational networks supplying its base text, intellectual contributions from Chinese migrants, local social needs in post-fire Nagasaki, and Tetsugen’s personal aim to use the canon in doctrinal debate. Tetsugen’s printing endeavor continued the medieval tradition of kanjin (fundraising), serving as a religious, educational, and institutional undertaking shaped by interactions with broader socio-economic support. Positioned within a wider social framework, Tetsugen’s cross-sectarian activities facilitated the successful circulation and popularization of the canon, promoting a shift in the use of Buddhist scriptures from prayer-centered practice to doctrinal study and reflecting a broader transformation in Japanese Buddhism, from state-supported Buddhism to more popular forms.

1. Introduction

Within the landscape of Japanese Buddhism and the history of publishing, the Ōbaku Edition of the Buddhist Canon (hereafter the Ōbaku Canon), initiated and directed by the Ōbaku monk Tetsugen Dōkō, stands as a project of immense historical importance. This monumental effort to print the Buddhist scriptures garnered significant attention during its time and has continued to exert a lasting influence on both cultural and religious spheres in subsequent generations.

With regard to the Ōbaku Canon, existing scholarship has thus far primarily proceeded from two perspectives: textual scholarship and Buddhist history. The former examines the textual features of the canon as Buddhist scriptures and their religious significance after publication, while the latter focuses on the Ōbaku sect’s support for the project and regards it as a major contribution of the Ōbaku school to Japanese Buddhism. Although the Ōbaku Canon is widely recognized as an outstanding example of transnational collaboration, the concrete processes of its transnational and trans-sectarian dimensions, as well as their broader implications, have yet to be fully explored.

As noted above, studies from the perspective of textual scholarship can be further divided into two types. The first approach is grounded in Japanese Buddhist philology, emphasizing the collation of textual variants, differences among printed editions, cataloging efforts, and the organization of surviving copies within temples (e.g., Institute for Buddhist Culture, Bukkyo University 1989; Ōtsuki and Matsunaga 1994; Azumi 2009; Aitani 2009, 2010; Uchiyama 2010; Matsunaga 2011; The Investigation Committee on the Ōbaku Edition of the Buddhist Canon Preserved at Kezōji 2012). The second approach investigates the role of the Ōbaku Canon within religious institutions, focusing on how these texts were integrated into worship and doctrinal practice, as well as their significance for the compilation of Buddhist canons in the modern and contemporary periods (e.g., Matsunaga 2006; Lee 2009; Uchiyama 2010; Taka’i 2012; Watanabe 2020). Both strands of research emphasize the canon’s dissemination and utilization after its publication and together represent the prevailing trends in current scholarship.

In contrast, studies from the perspective of Buddhist history have paid greater attention to the actual publication process of the Ōbaku Canon, investigating its mechanisms of formation, especially focused on the Tetsugen and Yinyuan Longqi (隱元隆琦 Jp. Ingen Ryūki, 1596–1674) (e.g., Akamatsu 1956; Baroni 2006; Li and He 2003; Matsunaga 2008; Zhang 2011). However, such studies remain significantly influenced by sectarian-centered narratives. For instance, many scholars have followed the view of Tsuji Zennosuke, who mistakenly claimed that the base edition of the Ōbaku Canon—the Jiaxing Canon—was brought to Japan by Yinyuan Longqi (Tsuji 1954, p. 410), even though no clear evidence for this exists in the relevant original records. Ōba Osamu has raised objections, suggesting that the Jiaxing Canon may have arrived in Japan prior to Yinyuan’s arrival (Ōba 1984, pp. 422–23). This issue reveals a continued weakness in the source-critical analysis of the canon’s provenance.

The two strands of research mentioned above correspond precisely to the two main approaches in Buddhist canon studies that Wu Jiang critiques—namely, treating the canon as a static textual existence and remaining at the level of “superficial descriptions,” or reproducing sectarian narratives. By contrast, the formation of the Buddhist canon should be understood as a dynamic social process that integrates politics, religion, technology, and institutional structures. Wu emphasizes the complex and interactive relationships between the canon and Buddhist communities. In this sense, the Ōbaku Canon is not merely a compilation of scriptures, but rather a “nonsectarian textual repertoire of the heritage of Chinese Buddhism,” serving “as symbolic capital for all communities.” He further notes, “Only through meticulous historical research can we reveal the role of the Chinese canon in the history of East Asian Buddhism” (Wu 2016, pp. 39–40).

This article maintains that concrete empirical research from the perspectives of textual studies and Buddhist history is indeed valuable, as it provides a necessary knowledge base for examining issues of canon formation. However, the primary aim of this study is to respond to Wu Jiang’s call by attempting to move beyond traditional sectarian narratives and reconstruct the process of the Ōbaku Canon’s compilation and dissemination from the perspective of social practice. However, even though this article attempts to transcend sectarian narratives, as Liao has pointed out, the Ōbaku monks who traveled to Japan in the late Ming and early Qing periods constituted the most significant community for Sino-Japanese exchange at that time (Liao 2020, p. 54). In examining the formation process of the Ōbaku Canon, one can observe that, although the participants had different social statuses and positions, they were all connected to this community. This is also why this edition of the Buddhist canon is still referred to as the Ōbaku Canon in this study.

It seeks to clarify the complex interplay of institutional systems, regional networks, popular beliefs, and economic support involved in this endeavor. In doing so, it engages with recent scholarship on the Buddhist Canon, which has introduced the concept of “Tripitaka Diplomacy”—emphasizing the Tripitaka’s role not only as a religious canon but also as a vital cultural and political instrument in shaping East Asian regional order (Jiang et al. 2025). This framework provides valuable insights for understanding the Ōbaku Canon’s production; however, the transition from the medieval to early modern period witnessed a notable shift toward the popularization of politics and culture. Within this context, government involvement in the Ōbaku Canon’s production was less a matter of direct state intervention and more characterized by individual officials exercising their authority in service of personal religious commitments. By revealing this nuanced dynamic, the study offers a complementary perspective on “Tripitaka Diplomacy,” highlighting its varied manifestations across different historical periods.

Key events and figures related to the compilation of the Ōbaku Canon can be arranged chronologically as follows:

In the spring of 1658, the lay devotee Shingetsu Shōin (心月性印, 1598–1671) brought a Ming edition of the Buddhist canon to Fumon-ji Temple and offered it to Yinyuan (Yoshinaga 1942a, p. 5).

In 1663, Tetsugen authored a statement about fundraising for Buddhist Canon at Ryūchō-in in present-day Kumamoto Prefecture, vowing to purchase a Buddhist canon from China.

On November 1 of the same year, Duli Xingyi (獨立性易, 1594–1672, Jp. Dokuryū Shōeki) also authored an article concerning the Buddhist Canon and the fundraising statements related to the construction of pagodas, which described the state of the Jiaxing Canon in detail.

In 1668, Tetsugen traveled to Mampuku-ji, where Yinyuan entrusted him with the Jiaxing Canon and provided a printing site—what later became Hōzō-in.

Shōin was a lay follower of Yinyuan who offered the Ōbaku Canon to him as an object of devotion. Behind this act lay the broader context of Sino-Japanese relations and the support of local Japanese governments. Duli, who had a contentious relationship with the Ōbaku sect, took refuge in a Sōtō temple after a fire in the third year of Kanbun (1663), where he was invited to write a document concerning the fundraising for acquiring the Jiaxing Canon. This episode reflects strong regional ties and the resulting “trans-sectarian” character of the canon. Duli’s document undeniably provided the most detailed description of the Jiaxing Canon then available in Japan, serving as the intellectual and ideological foundation for Tetsugen’s efforts to acquire and reprint the canon. Yinyuan’s gifting of both the Jiaxing Canon and the printing site provided the material basis for Tetsugen’s publication endeavor.

The crucial question here is why Yinyuan offered such significant support to Tetsugen. This relates to Yinyuan’s evolving thought and missionary strategy, shaped by his understanding of Japan’s realities. Tetsugen was the actual executor of the Buddhist canon printing project. This article focuses on two main issues concerning him: the reasons for his undertaking the printing of the canon and the manner in which it was realized. Regarding the first issue, his motives for demanding the Buddhist canon are examined through the question of his sectarian affiliation. This in turn relates to the educational systems of Buddhist institutions in early modern Japan, as well as to the doctrinal disputes in which Tetsugen was involved. As for the second issue, it is well known that Tetsugen raised the necessary funds for the printing project by preaching to the ordinary people. Unlike Baroni, who situates this practice within the broader context of the efforts of many early modern Japanese Buddhist monks to deepen ordinary people’s commitment to Buddhism (Baroni 2006, p. 3), this article instead emphasizes the historical and social background of Buddhist solicitation (kanjin), placing Tetsugen’s activities within the transformation of this practice from the medieval to the early modern period.

In addition to commonly used sources, this study draws particularly on the following historical materials to conduct grounded historical analysis. First, for primary sources, it uses the newly discovered Qiyuan Dazang Bingji Jiange Yanyin 乞緣大藏並及建閣言引 (Introduction to the Fundraising Initiative for Acquiring the Buddhist Canon and Building the Pavilion) by Duli (Duli 1663). Although the original manuscript has been lost, excerpts were copied by the Rinzai monk Mujaku Dōchū (無著道忠, 1653–1745) in his Banrisha 萬里砂, through which the contents of this text have been preserved and transmitted. Also valuable as quasi-primary sources are the writings of Yoshinaga Utarō. Minamoto Ryōen has referred to Yoshinaga’s Zen Master Tetsugen as a collection of materials on Tetsugen (Minamoto 1982, p. 36), and Ōtsuki Mikio has noted its usefulness due to its chronological organization, using it as a major source in his own research (Ōtsuki 1994, p. 362). Furthermore, Yoshinaga’s edited volume Ōbaku and the Overseas Trader Shōin contains many documents related to Shōin. These works, published in the 1950s by the Ōbaku Sect Headquarters, are now extremely difficult to obtain but remain of high scholarly value. This article will make full use of these materials in conducting empirical historical research.

In conclusion, this study takes the Ōbaku Canon as its research subject and, by transcending sectarian-centered narratives, reconceptualizes it as a collaborative social practice involving multiple agents. Through this lens, the study aims to clarify the trans-sectarian cooperation, regional support networks, and the shifting social functions of Buddhist scriptures that this publication project embodied. In doing so, it proposes a new analytical pathway and interpretive framework for understanding the formation of Buddhist canons in the history of East Asian Buddhism, particularly within the context of Sino-Japanese Buddhist cultural exchange in early modernity.

2. From the Jiaxing Edition to the Ōbaku Edition: Shōin, Yinyuan, and the Transmission of the Buddhist Canon Texts

As introduced in the Introduction, it is unquestionable that Tetsugen received a set of the Buddhist canon from Yinyuan. However, the problem arises because current scholarship generally holds that this set of the canon was brought by Yinyuan from China. But is there solid evidence supporting this claim?

The earliest articulation of this claim comes from Akamatsu Shinmei, a former abbot of Hōzōin and a specialist in the study of Tetsugen Dōkō. In his work Tetsugen, he notes that after Tetsugen shared with Yinyuan his aspiration to carve the Buddhist canon, Yinyuan expressed strong support and composed a poem to encourage him. “Furthermore, Yinyuan gave Tetsugen the Ming edition of the Buddhist canon that he had brought with him when he crossed eastwards, and allocated a piece of land at Mount Ōbaku for carving and storing the woodblocks” (Akamatsu 1943, p. 219). Subsequently, Minamoto Ryōen, annotating the Tetsugen Oshō Gyōjitsu 鐵眼和尚行實 (Record of Tetsugen’s Life, hereafter TGGJ), added a detailed note to the relevant passage about the “Chinese edition of the Buddhist canon,” explaining that this refers to “the Chinese edition of the Buddhist canon brought by Yinyuan” (Minamoto 1979, p. 345).

In the original text of the Record, the passage reads: “He bestowed the Chinese Buddhist canon edition in his possession and also allotted a piece of land for storing the woodblocks” (Minamoto 1979, p. 369). From this original text, it is clear that Akamatsu’s statement is based on this record. However, this passage only says that it was the canon that Yinyuan possessed—it does not confirm that it was brought from China by Yinyuan.

As for the edition of the canon used as the base text, Ōtsuki Mikio published a study specifically devoted to this issue. He pointed out that the key original texts supporting the claim “Yinyuan brought the Buddhist canon from China and gave it to Tetsugen” are: one, from Duzhan Xingying (獨湛性瑩, 1628–1706, Jp. Dokutan Shōei)’s Hōzō Hakkō 寶藏發光 (The Shining Treasure), stating “When Yinyuan, founder of Mount Ōbaku, crossed eastwards, he carried a set of the Buddhist canon with him. After founding Mount Ōbaku, he gave this to Tetsugen, his Dharma nephew, to re-carve the printing blocks”; and two, a postscript written by Tetsugen’s disciple in 1691 to Tetsugen’s Zuiryū Kaizan Tetsugen Oshō Kaji Hōgo 瑞龍開山鐵眼和尚假字法語 (Dharma Sayings in Kana by Tetsugen, the Founding Abbot of Zuiryū) that mentions “The patriarch Yinyuan bestowed the Chinese edition he brought by ship upon Tetsugen for the printing blocks.” Ōtsuki noted that the first source, coming from a monk who accompanied Yinyuan to Japan and was thus most familiar with the situation at the time, is the most reliable. But even here, it might only indicate that Yinyuan had a set of the canon before founding Mount Ōbaku, not necessarily that he brought it from China. The second source likely reflects later hearsay and misunderstandings (Ōtsuki 1994, p. 363).

Next, Ōtsuki cited critical counter-evidence: the account by Getsutan Dōchō (月潭道澄, 1636–1713), who served as Yinyuan’s attendant for over twenty years from the time Yinyuan first arrived in Nagasaki until his death. Getsutan recorded that when Yinyuan came to Japan, besides his clothes, bowl, staff, and whisk, he did not bring any particularly large items, only several sutras and recorded sayings. From this, it can be judged that Yinyuan did not bring many things from China, and most were obtained after arriving in Japan. Moreover, considering the costs and logistics, it would have been very difficult for Yinyuan to bring a full set of the canon when crossing over (Ōtsuki 1994, p. 364).

Conversely, Tetsugen’s own Koku Daizō Genki Shomon 刻大藏緣起疏文 (Explanatory Preface on the Origins of the Engraving of the Buddhist Canon) allows a correction of the prevailing narrative. After describing the support received from Yinyuan, Tetsugen explains the origins of carving the Jiaxing edition of the canon, stating, “Until now, the version transported by ship to Japan is this edition” (Takakusu 1929). This shows that Tetsugen understood the edition he had come across via maritime shipment. If Yinyuan had personally brought the canon from China, Tetsugen would have explicitly stated so. Since such a large set of scriptures would have been a highly sensational matter, everyone accompanying Yinyuan would surely have known and talked about it. Based on the above, it can be concluded that if the Buddhist canon had indeed been brought by Yinyuan, Tetsugen would not have omitted this fact in his public appeal for carving funds. Such an omission would be disadvantageous to both Yinyuan and the carving project, and would surely have drawn criticism if the canon had indeed come via Yinyuan.

Another piece of evidence supporting the view that only the canon set donated by Shōin was the source is based on current holdings of the Ōbaku canon. Ōtsuki pointed out that if, besides the set donated by Shōin, there had been another set brought by Yinyuan, even if mostly dispersed, there would be more traces or evidence of its existence. However, such traces are absent at Mount Ōbaku (Ōtsuki 1994, p. 366).

In summary, this paper argues that the canon used as the base text of the Ōbaku edition was not brought by Yinyuan from China, but rather was the set donated by Shōin to Yinyuan.

The next question to explore is what background and motivation lay behind Shōin’s donation of this canon to Yinyuan, and what the significance of this act was.

Regarding Shōin, Yoshinaga Utarō’s Ōbaku and Overseas Merchant Shōin remains the most comprehensive collection and factual study despite having been published in 1942. According to Yoshinaga’s research, Shōin’s general biography can be summarized as follows: Shōin, originally named Shirōemon Naoshige 四郎右衛門直重, was born in 1598 in Kitakajima Village, Osaka. Between 1629 and 1635, when overseas travel was prohibited, Shōin made several trips to China. In 1646, Shōin returned from Nagasaki to Osaka, residing in Gofukuchō 吳服町 (present-day Fushimichō), renaming his former shop “Ebiya 海老屋” to “Nagasakiya 長崎屋,” specializing in foreign goods trade.

In 1654, he visited Yinyuan at Kōfuku-ji 興福寺 and became Yinyuan’s disciple, receiving the Dharma name “Shingetsu Shōin.” From that time, Shōin actively supported Yinyuan’s religious activities. For example, when Shōin visited Yinyuan in 1654, Yinyuan gave him two volumes of Huangbo Yinyuan Yulu 黃檗隱元語錄 published in China, which Shōin printed and completed in February the following year (Yoshinaga 1942a, pp. 1–3). In 1657, when Yinyuan was invited to Settsu Province’s Fumon-ji 普門寺, Shōin assisted him throughout the journey (Yoshinaga 1942a, pp. 4–5). In 1658, Shōin, together with his wife Ondeshōgyoku (溫德性玉, ?–1688) and Osaka friends, donated a set of the Buddhist canon to Yinyuan at Fumon-ji (Yoshinaga 1942a, pp. 6–7). In 1661, Shōin and others donated Western woods as building materials to Yinyuan (Yoshinaga 1942a, pp. 6–7). In 1662, Shōin and his daughter Dōken 道開 raised funds in Osaka to produce statues for the Zen hall at Manpuku-ji 萬福寺, with a donation list recording about six thousand donors (Yoshinaga 1942a, p. 9). Shōin’s “Shingetsuken 心月軒” in Osaka functioned as a relay point between Ōbaku and Nagasaki and as lodging for Ōbaku monks. For example, in 1663, monks such as Huilin Xingji (慧林性機, 1609–1681), Ryūkei Shōsen 龍溪性潛 (1602–1670), and Gaoquan Xingdun 高泉性潡 (1633–1695) gathered in Osaka and stayed at Shingetsuken before proceeding to Ōbaku. Similarly, during Huilin’s return to Nagasaki in the following year, he stayed several days at Shingetsuken and toured Osaka before boarding his ship (Yoshinaga 1942a, p. 10).

The donation of the Buddhist canon from Shōin to Yinyuan is also recorded in Yinyuan’s chronicle. According to the Puzhao Guoshi Nianpu 普照國師年譜 (Chronology of National Master Puzhao), in spring of 1658, when Yinyuan was 67 years old, Shōin and his followers donated a set of the canon. Yinyuan composed a poem praising the event:

“Pointing with my staff, the inscriptions open,

A precious treasure of three thousand volumes sent.

A single phrase containing boundless meaning,

The Dharma wheel forever turns in Penglai.”

(Hirakubo 1979, pp. 5231–32)

Actually, from this poetic verse, it can also be seen that Yinyuan placed special emphasis on the “treasure of three thousand volumes” sent, as a key to enabling the transmission of Buddhism in Japan, which was metaphorically likened to the legendary land of Penglai. It is evident that if Yinyuan had already brought a set of the Buddhist canon from China, he would not have expressed such a feeling of “it has finally arrived.”

A point worth noting here is that the arrival of this canon was understood by Yinyuan as a personal action of Shōin. As in the Fumon-roku 普門錄 (Record of Fumon), in a poem titled “Beginning to Bestow the Buddhist Canon to Donors,” it states, “To bestow the Buddhist canon is the beginning of wisdom” (Hirakubo 1979, p. 2660). Another poem, titled “Instruction to the Devout Woman Ondoku on Donating the Canon,” more clearly states: “The nature of the self is as pure as jade, gentle and virtuous. Encouraging one’s husband to donate the Buddhist canon can serve as a model for the Zen community” (Hirakubo 1979, p. 2661). This clearly regards this action as something pertaining to Shōin and his family. The question to be explored here is whether this action was truly Shōin’s personal deed.

First of all, later generations did not think so. Puzhao Guoshi Guanglu 普照國師廣錄 (The Comprehensive Record of National Master Puzhao), compiled after Yinyuan’s death by his disciple Nanyuan Xingpai (南源性派, Jp. Nangen Shōha, 1631–1692) and others, and also the aforementioned Puzhao Guoshi Nianpu 普照國師年譜 (Chronology of Master Puzhao), edited primarily by Nanyuan with Gaoquan’s assistance (Hirakubo 1979, p. 35; Liu 2024, p. 83), show that the poem Yinyuan wrote to Shōin originally bore the title “Joy at the Donation of the Canon by Devout Shōin” in the Pumen Lu, clearly addressing Shōin alone. However, in the later compiled Kōroku, this title was changed to “Shōin and Various Donors Escorting the Canon” (Hirakubo 1979, p. 2913), and the chronology made even stronger modifications emphasizing that this was not the sole merit of Shōin. As Hirakubo, who compiled the complete works of Yinyuan, points out, “Kōroku is relatively faithful to the original texts from China, but for the Japanese texts, poems, and verses, it often omits or changes sentences and undertakes extensive editing,” concluding that “its compilation was rather rough” Hirakubo 1979, p. 36). However, concerning this record of the gift of the Buddhist canon, Ōtsuki believes the modification is “more specific,” or this article contends that the compilers of Kōroku had a more rigorous understanding that the merit was not solely Shōin’s.

Similarly, regarding the gift of lumber used for construction mentioned above, Yinyuan wrote a poem whose original title in his own handwriting at Manpuku-ji was “Three Days after the Chongyang Festival, Devout Shōin Donated Large Timber from the Western Regions, with an Inscription,” but in the edited Taiwa-shū it became “Devout Shōin Along with Dokken and Chinese Translator Liu Donated Large Timber from the Western Regions, with an Inscription,” and in the later compiled and revised Guanglu, Shōin’s existence was removed entirely, changed to “Chen, Liu and Various Donors Sent Timber from the Western Regions, with an Inscription,” and the length was halved (Hirakubo 1979, pp. 3516–17). From this, it is clear that Yinyuan particularly emphasized Shōin’s personal merits.

Yoshinaga mentions an extraordinary legend concerning this in the Ōbaku sect and the “closed country” policy of Japan at the time, but does not elaborate due to its length. However, he notes that the shipment of this timber to Ōbaku was also strongly supported by the Hirado lord, Matsuura Hizen no Kami (Yoshinaga 1942a, pp. 7–8). In fact, to be precise, Shōin may have played an important, even crucial, role in donations such as the Buddhist canon and timber. However, the key conditions that made these donations possible were the political and economic networks between China and Japan.

An important source for studying such a network is a document entitled Ōbaku-san Manpuku-ji Tōboku Hōkishin Ji 黃檗山萬福寺唐木奉寄進事 (Record of the Tribute of Chinese Timber to Ōbaku-san in Manpuku-ji, hereafter referred to as TBKS). The original text is preserved in a facsimile edition (Hayashiya and Fujioka 1976), and there are also several reprints (Kyoto Prefectural Board of Education, Guidance Department, Cultural Properties Protection Section 1972, p. 2; 1986, pp. 45–47; Eguchi 1977, pp. 10–11; 1996, pp. 348–49). The first part of the document describes the process by which Shōin obtained this batch of timber, while the latter part details his own involvement in the construction of Dejima in Nagasaki. This article examines the political and economic networks that served as conditions for the donation by comparing this case with similar examples.

First, in fact, donations occurred around the same time as Shōin’s donation of the Buddhist canon to Yinyuan in 1658. To date, most studies have tended to limit their perspective to within the Ōbaku sect when interpreting Shōin’s actions. Otsuki points out, considering Yinyuan and his monastic group’s circumstances, that 1658 was the most important year for Yinyuan because it was his fifth year in Japan, well past the three-year agreement with the Chinese Ōbaku Temple, and letters urging his return to China were continuously sent. Negotiations with the shogunate by Ryūkei and others had resulted in a decision allowing a meeting with the fourth shogun in July, and land was granted by the shogunate to establish a new temple. Shōin and others considered the Buddhist canon necessary for Yinyuan’s community, and possibly donated it, hoping Yinyuan would remain and establish a temple branch (Ōtsuki 1994, p. 365).

If we broaden the perspective beyond the Ōbaku sect, it can be seen that in many respects, Shōin’s donation of the canon to Yinyuan parallels Mizuno Tadazane 水野忠貞’s donation of the same edition of the Buddhist canon (Jiaxing edition) to Shōhōji Temple 正法寺 in 1660, and the same canon to Hasedera Temple 長谷寺 in 1667 (Nakamura 2022, p. 64). According to the colophon of Mizuno’s donation, he was born and raised in Hiki District, and from childhood worshipped at Shōhōji Temple (Nakamura 2022, p. 61). Serving as an official in Fushimi 伏見 for over a decade, he always revered Shōhōji and thus purchased the entire canon from China to dedicate it there. An important point here is that Fushimi, now part of Osaka, was then a commercial hub gathering international goods. Tetsugen left Hizen for Osaka in 1667 precisely because it was the commercial center at the time (Minamoto 1979, p. 119).

According to TBKS, in it Shōin states that he had “traveled several times to China and India, resided long in Nagasaki, participated in the construction of Dejima, and was responsible for managing affairs related to the Nanban (i.e., Spaniards or Portuguese at the time) and the Dutch, obtained this timber and was fortunate to donate it.” From this it can be seen that, similar to Nakamura’s observation that Mizuno’s series of donations were related to his faith in the Three Treasures and his role as a shogunate official (Nakamura 2022, p. 64), in Shōin’s donation as well, in addition to his personal Buddhist faith, his role as a shogunate official was also highly significant.

Regarding how Shōin obtained this batch of timber, according to his account in TMKJ:

“[It came from] a place called ‘Egghead’ at the eastern tip of Takasago country (now Taiwan), where Nanban people lived. The Dutch were planning to attack them and therefore built a fortress, transporting timber from Jacatra. During the transportation, a tremendous thunderstorm struck outside a port in Taiwan, blowing the timber to Nagasaki Harbor. Dizzy and disoriented, it drifted into Nagasaki. It was an unheard-of and wondrous event.”1

From this account, it is evident that the matter involved a highly complex network of international relations, possibly corresponding to the legend mentioned—but not elaborated—by Yoshinaga. During a period when both China and Japan enforced strict diplomatic policies, transporting large-scale materials, such as a Buddhist canon or timber, was exceedingly difficult. Based on the case of Shōin’s timber donation, it can be inferred that the transportation of the canon from China to Japan during this period may have similarly extended beyond the traditionally studied East Asian context, encompassing a broader maritime network that even involved European countries.

In the Document Songyin Laoren Suilu Renzi Nian 松隱老人隨錄壬子年 (Informal Record of the Elder Songyin’s Sayings in 1672), there is a poem titled “Rejoicing at the Arrival of the Remaining Canon in Nagasaki with the Assistance of Layman Hong Ruzhao” that records the episode in which Yinyuan requested the assistance of a merchant operating between China and Japan to obtain the remaining portion of the Buddhist canon. In this poem, Yinyuan praises Hong Ruzhao’s action: “Acquiring scriptures to complete the canon is very joyful, fully manifesting the endless blessings of the canon’s acquisition” Hirakubo 1979, p. 4938). Hong Ruzhao 洪汝昭 was an important patron when Yinyuan first arrived at Kōfukuji, having invited Yinyuan to preach along with He Baoren 何保仁 and He Deping 何得平. According to Ka’i Hentai 華夷變態, a record of ships and hearsay from them, there are three records from 1681, 1682, and 1683 indicating Hong was a smuggler captain departing from Shandong (Hayashi and Hayashi 1958, pp. 332, 339, 409). As will be discussed in detail later, Yinyuan was then supporting Tetsugen’s carving project, possibly asking a longtime acquaintance, a Nagasaki merchant, to obtain incomplete parts of the canon through maritime trade channels so Tetsugen could complete the entire Buddhist canon carving.

3. The Intellectual Basis of Buddhist Canon Transmission: Duli Xingyi and Cross-Sectarian Fundraising

In Higo Province (present-day Kumamoto City), Tetsugen Dōkō wrote the Ke’en no so 化緣の疏 (Petition for Alms, hereafter referred to as KKNS), which is dated “the fifth day of the ten lunar month, 1663” as indicated in the colophon (Minamoto 1982, p. 151). In the same year, Duli authored another document titled Qiyuan Dazang Bingji Jiange Yanyin (For the Hanzi and English translation of this text, see the Introduction, hereafter referred to as QYDZ). Regarding Duli’s QYDZ, it is included in Xu Xingqing’s compilation of Duli’s complete works (Xu 2015, pp. 116–17), and Chen Yuh-neu has conducted a preliminary study of this text. However, that study did not sufficiently examine the background in which Duli composed it, and thus reached the conclusion that “the transmission of the Jiaxing Canon to Japan during the Edo period was realized through the needs of Ming émigrés and monks who had gone to Japan (Chen 2020, pp. 181–82).”

This section, by contrast, highlights the possibility that Duli’s text and Tetsugen’s solicitation document—both written in the same year and sharing connections to the Sōtō sect in Nagasaki—were grounded in the same background. In doing so, it seeks to deepen our understanding of the social and intellectual contexts behind the enterprise of acquiring the Buddhist canon.

According to the colophon of QYDZ, it can be known that this text was written on the first day of the intercalary eleventh month of 1663. The body of the text provides crucial context for its writing:

“Recently, several senior monks of the Sōtō sect in Nagasaki have initiated a campaign to petition for a complete Buddhist Canon and the construction of a storage pavilion. They sent me a letter acquiring a statement of support. Though old and ill, retired in the mountains, I was delighted by the news and felt unable to decline. I thus composed a brief account of the origin of the Canon in hopes of encouraging virtuous patrons to joyfully contribute, thereby offering some humble support for the prosperity of the nation.”

(QYDZ)

To identify the geographical reference of this activity, it is necessary to examine the expression “Shiyō Gunsha” (紫陽郡社). This place name is uncommon. The phrase “Shiyō Nagasaki” appears in Saiyō Shūroku 西遊手錄 (Handwritten Record of the Journey to the West), a travel record by Oyake Seijyun 小宅生順, who had previously corresponded with Duli. In the text, he writes, “This year, I was ordered to travel west to Shiyō Nagasaki” (Xu 2014, p. 175). This suggests that “Shiyō” may refer to a region that includes or is adjacent to Nagasaki.

Tetsugen himself refers to “Shiyō” in Higo Shū Myōken-gū Shōmei narabi Jo 肥後州妙見宮鐘銘並序 (Inscription for the Bell of the Myōken Shrine in Higo Province), stating: “In Shiyō Yatsushiro District stands the sacred site of Myōken” (Yoshinaga 1942b, p. 65; Kumamoto Prefectural Education Association 1929, p. 65). Similarly, in the Gokokuzan Kongōjyō-ji Shōmei narabi Jo 護國山金剛乘寺鐘銘並序 (Inscription for the Bell of Kongōjō-ji), he writes: “Shiyō has an esoteric Shingon site called Kongōjō-ji, originally founded by Master Eikyō” (Yoshinaga 1942b, p. 93; Kumamoto Prefectural Education Association 1929, p. 67).

Analyzing “Shiyō Nagasaki” linguistically suggests “Shiyō” might refer to the northern Kyushu region, which includes Nagasaki—Kyushu being historically known as “Chikushi 築紫.” Thus, “Shiyō Gunsha” likely refers to the region surrounding or including Nagasaki. Another crucial point is why a monk of the Ōbaku sect like Duli was invited by Sōtō monks to write such a fundraising statement. This reflects a certain openness across sectarian and geographical boundaries, providing insight into Duli’s interactions.

Historical records show that Duli arrived in Japan in 1653 and joined Yinyuan’s monastic community the following year. However, due to conflicts over calligraphy and status within the community, Duli considered leaving the community to settle in Izu. This plan was reported by Ryūkei and others, and he was forcibly returned to Osaka. From December 1659, he began a retreat in a small room at Kōfuku-ji in Nagasaki.

In March 1663, a large fire broke out in Nagasaki, destroying much of the city, including the magistrate’s office and Kōfuku-ji, where Duli resided. Ishimura Kiei speculates that Duli may have taken refuge in a newly built residence provided by Zhu Shunshui 朱舜水 (Ishimura 1973, pp. 558–59). Xu Xingqing, on the other hand, argues—based on Duli’s poetry collection Guimao Fenyu Cao 癸卯焚餘草 (Draft poems after the great fire in the Guimao year)—that he was later taken in by Yunqian Jiewan (蘊謙戒琬, 1610–1673), the abbot of Fukusaiji 福濟寺. While their conclusions differ, both agree that during this period Duli was known for practicing medicine, which earned him considerable local fame, even spreading to Iwakuni (Xu 2014, p. 172).

His medical reputation led to an invitation in 1664 to treat Yoshikawa Hiroyoshi (吉川廣嘉, 1621–1679), lord of Iwakuni. This invitation was made by Sōtō monk Gesshū Shūrin (月舟宗林, 1614–1687) of Kōdaiji 皓台寺 in Nagasaki. Katsura Hōju argues that Gesshū’s Iwakuni origins and family background as a samurai played a role in this connection (Katsura 1974, pp. 34–36). While plausible, it is important to note that most research on Chinese immigrants of the period focuses on individual perspectives. However, figures like Duli were deeply embedded in the institutional framework of the shogunate system.

For example, while Guimao Fenyu Cao presents Duli’s acceptance by Fukusaiji as a matter of personal gratitude, the temple itself was in charge of managing Chinese residents (Jia 2024a, p. 630). Like Donggao Xinyue (東皋心越, 1639–1695, Jp. Tōkō Shin’etsu), who was confined for violating Chinese administration regulations, Duli also depended on networks such as Kōdaiji for rescue and relocation. Although no direct letters remain between Duli and Gesshū, their close connection is evident from Gesshū’s recommendation of Duli to Iwakuni.

In short, Duli composed QYDZ while residing at Fukusai-ji in response to an invitation from Gesshū and other Sōtō monks in Nagasaki. This text has two critical intellectual contexts for understanding knowledge transfer. First, there was already an established interest in acquiring the Jiaxing Canon in Japan. By 1663, officials and merchants engaged in Sino-Japanese trade had acquired at least three copies of the canon. The purpose of the petition was clearly to obtain the Jiaxing Canon, as Duli explicitly states he is explaining the origin of “this Canon.”

Second, Duli’s own knowledge of the Jiaxing Canon derived from his background. He lived in Hangzhou until 1621 before retreating to Xihu, and then moved out from Yu Xi to Pu Yuan 濮院 in present-day Jiaxing until his journey to Japan in 1653 (Jia 2024b, pp. 69–73). His intimate knowledge of the canon’s production and storage—”the blocks are stored at the Doushuai-yuan 兜率園 of Jingshan Temple 徑山寺 in Hangzhou, and the printed texts at Lengyan Temple 楞嚴寺 in Jiaxing 嘉興”—reflects his lived experience in those cities.

He further notes that during the decline of Buddhism in the Jiajing and Longqing eras, the revival in Jiangnan was led by Yunqi Zhuhong (雲棲袾宏, 1535–1615):

“During the late Ming, Buddhism fell into decline, but was fortunately revived by Master Lianchi, who spread the Dharma in Jianghan and awakened many in the Wu region.”

In another text, the Preface to the Collected Works of Ōbaku Monastery, written for his friend Nanyuan, Duli recalls:

“Most monks in the Jiangnan region highly respect the Ōbaku lineage. Their teachings reached far across the Jianghan area, inspiring even laypeople. I once aspired to visit them.”

(Jia 2022, p. 210)

From the narrative in the Boshan Yicao Xu 檗山遺草序 (Preface to the Boshan Posthumous Writings), it is clear that Duli had considerable contact with monks in Jiangnan during his time in Jiaxing.

In summary, Duli was able to serve as an important medium for the transmission of knowledge regarding the Jiaxing Canon within the unique historical and social context of early modern Sino-Japanese relations. In terms of his intellectual background, this was due to the geographical proximity of his living environment to the two core aspects of the Jiaxing Canon: the site of its printing and its library. Socially, his interpersonal networks provided him with the conditions to deeply engage with Chan monks and gain access to related information. Furthermore, during the early Edo period, when strict control was imposed on Chinese residents in Japan, his experiences of house arrest and eventual release brought him into contact with monks of the Sōtō sect. This connection enabled him to receive an invitation to write articles relatively early in Japan’s efforts to acquire the Buddhist Canon, thereby laying the intellectual groundwork for the production of the Tetsugen Canon and the reception of the Jiaxing Canon in Japan.

Thirdly, this also provides important background information for the various stages of Tetsugen’s efforts to obtain the Buddhist Canon. The reasons why Tetsugen vowed in 1663 to acquire the Buddhist Canon remain a matter of scholarly debate. For example, Wu Jiang argues that this vow was influenced by Yinyuan’s strong emphasis on the Canon, noting that Yinyuan, upon learning of Tetsugen’s vow, gave him the copy of the Buddhist Canon preserved at Manpukuji (Wu 2015, pp. 147–48). Although Tetsugen had only very limited contact with Yinyuan at that time, Wu rightly points out Yinyuan’s deep regard for the scriptures. While there is no direct documentary evidence, it cannot be ruled out that Tetsugen may have been impressed by such an atmosphere during his visits to Yinyuan.

From the perspective of the specific year 1663, some scholars argue that it was related to the dismissal of Saigin (西吟, 1605–1663) in the same year (a matter that will be discussed below), while others link it to a vow made during an encounter with Manzan Dōhaku (卍山道白, 1636–1715) of the Sōtō sect and Kōkei 公慶 (1648–1705) of Tōdaiji (Nishimura 2010, p. 203). There are several versions of this story. According to Yoshinaga’s research, this event is more often dated to 1664 (Yoshinaga 1942b, pp. 18–19). Therefore, their encounter was not the origin of the vow to acquire the Canon, but rather an occasion for discussion about it. This story first appeared in the Sōtō sect’s Shūtō Fukkoshi 宗統復古誌 (Chronicle of the Revival of the Sect’s Unity), which also attests to the trans-sectarian nature of Tetsugen, especially his connection with the Sōtō sect. In fact, Tetsugen’s printing project was very closely linked to the Sōtō sect.

Moreover, according to Duli’s QYDZ, as its title “Appeal for Donations for the Acquiring the Canon and Construction of a Hall” shows, he wrote this fundraising piece at the invitation of a Sōtō elder for acquiring the canon and construction of a hall. This suggests that his and Tetsugen’s fundraising efforts may have stemmed from the same event: the great fire that broke out in Nagasaki on March 8, 1663. This fire destroyed nearly the entire city of Nagasaki, and in the aftermath of such disasters, fundraising to rebuild temples often commenced.2 For example, when Nanzenji burned down in 1447 and its collection of the Buddhist Canon was destroyed, a Japanese envoy was dispatched to Korea the following year to request a new Canon. Baba points out that this was a case of acquiring the Canon to aid in temple reconstruction (Baba 2013, p. 664).

After the fire, Duli maintained close ties with Kōtaiji, even residing there for a period. It is therefore highly likely that the person who invited Duli to write the QYDZ was Getsushū Sōrin. The next abbot, Dokuan Genkō (獨庵玄光, 1630–1698), was closely associated with Manzan, a friend of Tetsugen (Kaneko 1986, p. 69), which supports the notion that both men were engaged in the same cause for the same reason.

Regarding the close relationship between Tetsugen’s Canon-acquiring efforts and the Sōtō sect, it should also be noted that the initial foundation of Tetsugen’s endeavor was laid through his invitation by the Sōtō monk Soken 素見 to lecture on the Daijō Kishinron 大乘起信論 (Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna) at Gekkō-in 月江院, a Sōtō temple, where he received a donation from the nun Myōu 妙宇 of Kannonji 觀音寺 (Minamoto 1979, p. 344). From this background, it becomes clear that Tetsugen’s Canon-printing efforts were not simply internal to the Ōbaku sect, as has often been assumed by researchers, but were in fact aligned with the goals of the Sōtō sect as well.

The next section will examine Tetsugen’s sectarian identity and further argue for the “trans-sectarian” nature of his Canon-acquiring efforts.

4. From Prayer to Doctrine: Tetsugen Dōkō and the Social Turn in Buddhist Canon-Acquiring Practice

As noted in the introduction, the current dominant methodological paradigm in Buddhist canonical studies—a sect-centered approach—urgently requires critical re-evaluation and transcendence. This methodology is particularly prevalent in research on Tetsugen Dōkō, the initiator and executor of the project of acquiring the Canon, calling for a new breakthrough. It not only shapes research perspectives in a significant way but also hinders a more fruitful exploration of both the historical facts surrounding Tetsugen’s printing of the canon and the broader significance of this act.

Regarding Tetsugen’s project of acquiring and publishing the Buddhist Canon, Baroni provides a detailed account of the outside support he received. This support included permission and the donation of Yoshino cherry wood from a Tokugawa government official, as well as indexes, additional esoteric texts, and funding from monks of the Shingon and Jōdo sects (Baroni 2006, pp. 51–52). However, scholars—especially those focusing on the Ōbaku sect—have often uncritically regarded him as merely “an Ōbaku monk,” and his project is frequently interpreted as a major achievement of the Ōbaku sect.3

This section begins by re-examining Tetsugen’s sectarian identity to demonstrate both the non-sectarian nature of his actions and the character of his thought as an effort toward the “systematization of Buddhism.” By moving beyond sectarian narratives, I argue that his printing project should be understood as a continuation of the Japanese Buddhist tradition of kanjin 勸進 (fundraising through preaching and public engagement), through which the function of the Buddhist canon shifted from being a medium for prayer and ritual efficacy to a tool for doctrinal study. Simultaneously, this shift also marked a turn from sect-specific doctrinal learning to a more holistic cultivation of Buddhist knowledge and practice.

The conventional account of Tetsugen’s canon-acquiring project is as follows: Originally a monk of the Jōdo Shinshū 淨土真宗 (True Pure Land) sect, Tetsugen later studied under Yinyuan and his disciple Mu’an Xingtao (木菴性瑫, 1611–1684, Jp. Mokuan Shōtō). He established a plan to publish the Buddhist canon, raised funds throughout Japan, and in 1678 presented the first printed edition to the retired emperor Go-Mizunoo 後水尾法皇. His project was supported by Ōbaku monks, including Yinyuan and his elder Dharma brother Tetsugyū Dōki (鐵牛道機, 1628–1700), and was later carried forward by figures like Ryōō Dōkaku (了翁道覺, 1630–1707), who promoted the donation of the canon across sectarian boundaries—thus bringing new momentum to the Japanese Buddhist world (Tsuji 1954; Sueki 2023).

The main reason for identifying Tetsugen as an Ōbaku monk is the episode in which he received Dharma transmission from Mu’an. In 1676, upon returning to Mount Ōbaku, Tetsugen discussed the Lotus Sutra with Mu’an, who told him, “From now on, you may serve as a Jiangjing Seng 講經僧 (a monk who expounds sutras),” and handed him a whisk (symbol of transmission), saying, “Take this to gain others’ trust.” This event is recorded in his chronology and sayings (Hirakubo 1992, pp. 3052–53). However, Tetsugen himself was deeply averse to this designation, and thereafter he refused to transmit the Dharma to anyone (Akamatsu 1943, p. 2).

The transmission between Tetsugen and Mu’an was not motivated by religious identification. For Tetsugen, it was a pragmatic move to align himself with the rising power of the Ōbaku sect in order to gain institutional and financial support (Akamatsu 1943, p. 30). For Mu’an, the transmission was a political gesture acknowledging the importance of Tetsugen’s canon-printing project for strengthening the sect’s institutional standing. Minamoto aptly observes, “While this may have been a brilliant political decision by Mu’an, the abbot of Manpuku-ji, it caused Tetsugen considerable distress in the long run” (Minamoto 1979, p. 163).

Supporting this view is a record in the Ōbaku Gaiki 黃檗外紀, which notes that, on his deathbed, Tetsugen returned the whisk to Mu’an, stating that he had not truly received the Dharma transmission and had only accepted the whisk for the sake of facilitating his canon-printing fundraising efforts. Furthermore, the TGGJ, compiled under the supervision of his disciple Hōshū Dōsō 寶洲道聰 (1644–1719), omits this event due to its sensitive nature, while another work more candidly documents Tetsugen’s profound regret over the transmission and lists it as one of the three greatest mistakes of his life (Akamatsu 1943, pp. 9, 350–51; Minamoto 1982, pp. 38–39).

Notably, in 1668, Yinyuan wrote a poem titled Shi Tieyan Chanren Muke Dazangjing 示鐵眼禪人募刻大藏經 (To Zen Practitioner Tetsugen on Soliciting Funds for the Graving of the Buddhist Canon), expressing support and praise for Tetsugen’s project. The poem, written by Yinyuan himself, remains preserved at Hōzō-in. Through this work, it is evident that Yinyuan referred to Tetsugen as “Chanren (Chan practitioner).” However, when Yinyuan’s disciples later recompiled his writings into Puzhao Guoshi Guanglu after his death, the term “Chanren 禪人 (Chan practitioner)” was replaced with “Jiangzhu 講主 (head teacher)” (Hirakubo 1979, p. 4579). This change further indicates that not only did Tetsugen himself lack a deep religious identification with the Ōbaku sect, but also that both his and Yinyuan’s disciples were aware of—and perhaps even reinforced—this distinction.

In the study of Tetsugen’s life, the most frequently cited source is the TGGJ, compiled by his disciple Hōshū. However, as previously noted, this text contains numerous inaccuracies, many of which stem from a clear concern for the sensitivities of the Ōbaku monks. As a result, it exaggerates the support Tetsugen received from the Ōbaku sect and overstates their influence on him. As Minamoto points out, the TGGJ claims that Tetsugen studied under Mu’an in 1656 and then immediately proceeded to Tafukuji Temple 多福寺 in Bungo Province. In reality, however, there was a five-year gap between these events, during which Tetsugen experienced considerable hardship. Though he did visit Yinyuan and Mu’an, he had, by that time, already distanced himself from Zen Buddhism (Minamoto 1979, p. 112; Yoshinaga 1942b, p. 10).

The most significant form of support Tetsugen received from the Ōbaku sect was the loan of a copy of the Buddhist canon and a site for printing, provided by Yinyuan. According to the TGGJ, after receiving a large donation from a nun named Myōu in Ōsaka, Tetsugen felt he had a solid foundation for his project and “hurried to Mount Ōbaku to report to Elder Yinyuan” (Minamoto 1979, p. 369). Yet, once again, many intermediary facts are omitted. According to the biography of Tetsugyū Dōki, in the autumn of 1668, Tetsugen met Chigen 知幻, a disciple of Tetsugyū, in Osaka and informed him of his plans to print the canon. Tetsugyū supported the project and petitioned the Jisha Buggyō 寺社奉行 (magistrate of temples and shrines) and various local officials on Tetsugen’s behalf, and also conveyed the matter to both Yinyuan and Mu’an. As a result, a copy of the canon stored in Songyin-tang 松隱堂 (Jp. Shōin-dō) was made available to Tetsugen (Akamatsu 1943, p. 296; Minamoto 1979, p. 120).4

This version is likely accurate: Tetsugen probably learned from Tetsugyū that Yinyuan, having retired, kept a copy of the canon at Songyin-tang. With Tetsugyū’s help, Tetsugen may have already obtained permission from Yinyuan to borrow it, and only then did he leave Osaka, his fundraising base, to travel to Manpukuji in Uji.

More precisely, Yinyuan did not donate the canon to Tetsugen but loaned it to him for the purpose of printing. This is confirmed in a poem written by Mu’an in 1683 and addressed to Hōshū, titled “To the Dharma Heir Tetsugen, Who Borrowed the Buddhist Canon from Songyin-tang, Reprinted It, and Returned It Upon Completion. Hōshū, Fortunately, Continued and Completed the Project. I Now Send This Poem to Commemorate the Deed” (Hirakubo 1992, p. 2846). The poem makes clear that Tetsugen had borrowed the canon for woodblock printing and later returned it.

Further evidence that the canon was only loaned can be found in Yinyuan’s 1671 poem “On the Completion of the Treasure Repository Founded by Zen Practitioner Tetsugen,” indicating that the Hōzōin was not completed until three years after the printing project had begun (Hirakubo 1979, p. 4788). If Yinyuan had donated the canon outright, there would have been nowhere to house it prior to the completion of the repository.

After securing Yinyuan’s support, Tetsugen resumed his lecture tours across the country and went on to found temples in Osaka and other locations. His connection with the Ōbaku sect was minimal thereafter. These facts suggest that Tetsugen’s religious affiliation and institutional belonging should not be interpreted within a sectarian framework centered on Ōbaku. On the contrary, the actions of Tetsugen and his disciples reveal a strong tendency toward inter-sectarianism.

One prominent example is Ryōō Dōkaku (了翁道覺, 1630–1707), a disciple who assisted in the printing and distribution of the Buddhist canon. As Sueki notes, Ryōō’s most distinctive trait was his ability to transcend sectarian boundaries. He donated the canon to temples of various sects and claimed to have studied Tiantai, Esoteric Buddhism, and Zen. However, Sueki attributes this ability to the Ōbaku sect’s arrival in Japan, which provided an opportunity to break down sectarian barriers (Sueki 2023, p. 99). The following section will examine Tetsugen’s canon-printing project from the perspectives of motivation and practical characteristics, in order to understand how it reflected this non-sectarian tendency.

Regarding Tetsugen’s motivation, the conventional view holds that he vowed to import the canon from China in 1663 due to the lack of a Buddhist canon in Japan at the time (Lin 2013, p. 228). However, it is well known that editions such as the Tenkai Edition of the canon already existed in Japan. The more accurate explanation is that, while the canon existed, it was not being circulated (Matsunaga 2013, p. 759). The reason for this lack of circulation, as shown in earlier cases like those of Mizuno and Shōin donating the canon for religious merit, was that the canon was often regarded as a “sacred treasure” (hōbō) and kept sealed within temples for the purpose of prayer and protection.5 Tetsugen’s significance lies in his effort to make the canon accessible, thereby promoting its dissemination (Ōtani University 2002).

Tetsugen’s desire to circulate the canon as scholarly material, rather than a ritual object, may be traced back to his early relationship with Jōdo Shinshū. Originally ordained in the Jōdo sect, Tetsugen attended a lecture on the Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna by Saigin in Kokura in 1646 at the age of 17, and studied under him until 1655, when he left Kyoto to visit Yinyuan in Nagasaki. The TGGJ mentions Saigin only briefly. As Minamoto explains, Hōshū downplayed Saigin’s influence on the young Tetsugen in order to emphasize the impact of Ōbaku monks such as Yinyuan and Mu’an (Matsunaga 2013, p. 21).

In short, under the Tokugawa government’s Ji’in Hatto 寺院法度 (Temple Regulations), which encouraged sectarian learning, many sects established educational institutions, such as danrin 檀林 and gakuryō 學寮 (Nishimura 2010, pp. 188–93). The Jōdo Shinshū sect established its Kangakuryō 勸學寮 in 1639, with Saigin (1605–1653) appointed as its first nōke 能化 (head instructor) in 1647 (Kimura 2019, p. 154; Minamoto 1979, pp. 22–23). Later, due to Gekkan (月感, 1601–1674)’s critique of Saigin’s teachings from the perspective of Shin doctrine—claiming they generalized truth across Buddhist sects—the matter developed into a political dispute between Nishi Honganji 西本願寺 and Kōshōji 興正寺, eventually resulting in the shogunate’s ruling in 1655, which placed Gekkan under house arrest and shut down the Kangakuryō (Minamoto 1979, p. 40). According to Minamoto, Saigin’s doctrinal approach—seeking the universal truth of Buddhism across sects—was a key factor in Tetsugen’s later turn to Zen (Minamoto 1979, p. 42).

If we consider Tetsugen as a disciple of Saigin, we begin to see facts that have long been overlooked. Biographically, as mentioned earlier, Tetsugen had relatively little interaction with Ōbaku monks. More significantly, from 1669—when his lecture on the Śūraṅgama Sūtra at Kaiunji 海雲寺 in Edo was criticized by Shin monks—to the 1677 critiques by Gekkan and even the legal persecution he faced in Bungo (present-day Ōita), his major conflicts were with Jōdo Shinshū followers. Moreover, his lectures tended to focus on texts associated with Saigin’s teaching, and there is little evidence that he taught traditional Zen koan collections such as the Wumenguan 無門關 or Biyanlu 碧岩錄.

Finally, the Kangakuryō established by his disciple Hōshū—who inherited Tetsugen’s ideals—might well be interpreted as a revival of the Kangakuryō formerly run by Saigin before its suppression (for details, see Uchiyama 2007, 2008).

Tetsugen’s fundraising can be understood in the context of kanjin (勧進, religious solicitation). Kanjin, originally a Buddhist term abbreviated from kanjin sakushin (勧進策進), also known as kan’en 勸緣 or kanke 勸化, was not simply about soliciting donations—it was a religious practice intended to encourage good deeds among the laity and form karmic connections with the Buddha (Inagi 2005, p. 157).

As for the history of kanjin for sutra copying, Inagi points out that it existed even before the Nara period. Chishiki 知識 (Lay followers) would contribute resources in response to monks’ solicitations to have sutras copied, resulting in what were known as chishiki-kyō 知識經. By the 12th century, the activities of kanjin monks 勸進僧 and kanjin hijiri 勸進聖 became more organized and corporatized. By the 13th century, the practice evolved further into a system carried out by specialist monks to support temple economies (Inagi 2005, p. 158). In the late 18th century, a large-scale kanjin movement emerged centered on Mikenji 眉間寺, involving around fifty major temples. This movement was sparked by a renewed appreciation for the Tendoku 転読 (rolling recitation) of the Daihannya Kyō 大般若經 (Mahāprajñāpāramitā Sūtra), which led to efforts to restore the canon during the Edo period. Inagi notes that this movement was heavily influenced by Tetsugen’s Ōbaku canon, which made the Daihannya Kyō more accessible and widely distributed across Japan. This increased attention spurred restoration efforts and new purchases of the canon. In early modern times, temple-led recitation ceremonies of the Daihannya Kyō became closely linked with agrarian life, serving as rites for insect expulsion and rain prayers in villages. This trend accelerated the dissemination of Tetsugen’s Ōbaku Canon (Inagi 2005, p. 170).

It is worth noting that although Inagi does not analyze Tetsugen’s fundraising activities from the perspective of kanjin, he does regard Tetsugen’s publication of the Ōbaku canon as a nationwide kanjin effort from 1668 to 1678 (Inagi 2005, p. 170). Minamoto points out that lectures were Tetsugen’s most important fundraising tool. He writes:

“The greatest weapon in Tetsugen’s fundraising campaign was his lecture tours. From 1662 to 1682, over the span of 21 years, he held three lecture series on the Lotus Sūtra, eight on the Śūraṅgama Sūtra, three on the Awakening of Faith in the Mahāyāna, one on the Laṅkāvatāra Sūtra, and two on other texts—seventeen in total—across Higo, Chikuzen, Chikugo, Bungo, Satsuma, Osaka, Edo, Tōtōmi, and elsewhere. In addition, he gave dozens of smaller talks in the places he visited.”

(Minamoto 1982, p. 24)

The medieval period in Japan is often described as a “period of kanjin” (Tanaka 2011, pp. 108–9). Although many fundraising monks combined features of both state-oriented and popular Buddhism, overall, medieval kanjin was largely centered on monks officially appointed by the state, thus exhibiting the characteristics of “state Buddhism” (Toyoshima 2010, p. 204). This institutionalization also extended to local contexts (Tōchika 2024, p. 388). Such state-affiliated fundraising evolved into profit-driven and fixed-amount forms, provoking strong opposition from the populace and, in some cases, leading to the suppression of fundraising authorities. Consequently, after the Muromachi period, kanjin primarily took the form of “activity-based fundraising,” such as artistic performances and scripture recitations. Over time, however, this “activity-based fundraising” declined into a mere pretext for performers to promote their events, undermining its original purpose. Nakanodō identifies this loss of religious significance as characteristic of “early modern fundraising” (Nakanodō 2012).6

In the sense of transcending sectarian boundaries, Tetsugen can be regarded as a hijiri 聖 (sage). The puzzling fact that he twice redirected funds raised for the publication of the Buddhist canon to famine relief can also be understood through the lens of kanjin. At times, conflicts arose between monks’ desire to build temples and lay followers’ expectations for relief. In such situations, Tetsugen chose to prioritize saving the people (Tanaka 2011, p. 108).

In conclusion, if we move beyond sectarian-centered narratives, Tetsugen’s efforts to acquire the Buddhist canon can be seen as part of a broader attempt to correct doctrinal misunderstandings arising from debates with the Jōdo Shinshū. He achieved this goal with broad social support and helped transform the canon from primarily a sacred object of prayer into a practical tool for doctrinal study. His method—kanjin—was a form of social engagement. Tetsugen’s kanjin provides a unique model for the study of kanjin today: it was similar to the medieval type of kanjin in that it was motivated by religious faith. What distinguished it, however, was that it lacked the affiliation with the state apparatus typical of the medieval period, and therefore had no coercive power. His kanjin was similar to the early modern type in that it was carried out through performances serving the people; what set it apart was that the central focus of his kanjin remained firmly on religious objectives. This reminds us that even early modern figures retained medieval customs and sensibilities. The transition from the medieval to the early modern period did not mean that people immediately adopted early modern characteristics; figures like Tetsugen present a richer and more diverse example of this transformation.

5. Conclusions

This paper has reconsidered the publication of the Ōbaku edition of the Buddhist canon (the Ōbaku-zō) from a perspective that frees it from the conventional sectarian framework and instead regards it as a form of social practice. As a result, the following findings have been obtained.

First, through a critical examination of various historical materials, it becomes clear that the Jiaxing edition, which served as the base text for the Ōbaku Canon, was likely not brought personally from China by Yinyuan, but was donated by the Nagasaki merchant Shōin. Further, by comparing this with similar cases such as Shōin’s donation of Buddhist scriptures, it is revealed that while personal religious faith was important, holding a position in the shogunate related to foreign affairs was an indispensable condition for such a donation. In sum, in the early seventeenth century, when both Japan and China exercised strict control over personnel and material exchanges with the outside world, the conditions that allowed the Jiaxing edition to reach Japan as the base text of the Ōbaku Canon necessarily involved an extensive maritime network connecting China and Japan, which even included European powers.

Second, based on the previously under-researched Duli text QYDZ, this study shows that the transmission of the Jiaxing edition and the canon-request movement unfolded not only within the Ōbaku sect but also across a broader regional and transnational religious and intellectual network, including Sōtō monks in Nagasaki. While distancing himself from internal political conflicts within Ōbaku, Duli leveraged his scholarly authority as a Chinese monk residing in Japan and his experience in the Jiaxing region to support the canon-request movement in the capacity of a literatus. The descriptions of the Jiaxing edition from this standpoint also contributed to forming the ideological foundation for Tetsugen. The context of this writing reveals that the project to acquire the Buddhist canon from China was not solely Tetsugen’s personal initiative but had a shared local social foundation—namely, that the canon was needed as a temple treasure to restore temples destroyed by the 1663 fire in Nagasaki.

Third, regarding Tetsugen Dōkō, this study first addresses the sense of distance between him and the Ōbaku sect in terms of practical interaction and ideological identification, challenging the conventional view that uncritically treats him as a typical Ōbaku monk. Further, through examining his relationship with the Jōdo Shinshū school, it becomes evident that for Tetsugen, the canon ceased to be merely an object of faith and transformed into a “tool of knowledge” situated within the context of early modern Buddhist educational institutions and doctrinal debates, marking a shift in the social function of the canon. The means by which this aspiration was realized—through fundraising sermons (kanjin)—demonstrates the distinctiveness of his approach beyond the existing frameworks of medieval and early modern kanjin studies.

Through these examinations, this paper proposes a perspective that reconceives the Ōbaku-zō not as a mere “collection of texts” but as the crystallization of social practice that crosses sectarian, regional, and national boundaries. This perspective offers an important clue for understanding the formation and circulation of Buddhist scriptures not merely as bibliographical objects but as dynamic processes where institutions, faith, economy, mobility, and memory intersect. The publication of the Ōbaku-zō was a practice in which multiple actors from diverse positions intersected and cooperated at the nexus of religion and society in early modern East Asia to advance the organization of knowledge.

As for future challenges, it is necessary to further unearth regional literature and unpublished materials to closely examine how each narrative was formed, transmitted, and sometimes rewritten. In particular, comparative studies with Chinese sources closer to the Jiaxing edition’s original version, as well as cross-referencing commercial, diplomatic, and cultural materials that complement the activities of Shōin and Duli, are highly desirable. The study of the Ōbaku-zō has now reached a stage where it should be reconstructed not only within the framework of sectarian history but as a history of transcultural knowledge production.