In ancient Japan, to know was not to conquer facts—it was to receive sacred wisdom from the divine. This profound cultural view, embedded in Japan’s oldest chronicles like the Kojiki, teaches that even when force must be used, it must be rooted in compassion. In this article, we explore the forgotten meanings behind the gods of sword and love, and the extraordinary truth hidden in the story of Ame-no-Ohabari and Ame-no-Kakuno-no-Kami.
Stone statues of Jizo Bosatsu dressed in red bibs and caps, symbolizing compassion and protection for children and travelers in Japanese Buddhism.
In ancient Japanese thought, the act of knowing—to “shiru（知る）”—was never simply about acquiring facts or information. Rather, it was regarded as a sacred process: to receive divine wisdom bestowed by the kami (deities). Whether it be in the humanities, science, or engineering, every discovery or breakthrough was seen not as the product of individual genius alone, but as a gift granted by the gods, with the help of one’s surroundings.
Even great inventions or innovations were never met with personal awards in Japan’s tradition. Instead, honor was given to the ie—the household, the family, the group of people involved—rather than to the individual. Such was the culture of humility and gratitude.
If someone were to forget this gratitude and boast, “It was my idea!”—no matter how brilliant they might be—then the divine would cease to grant them further wisdom. The wellspring would stop.
The gods never bestow all knowledge at once. It always comes in stages, in small portions, matched to the seeker’s heart and humility. With each revelation, comes a sense of awe so profound it can transform one’s entire view of the world. But should arrogance arise in that moment—should one believe it was by their own power—the gods will abandon them, and no more wisdom will come.
In contrast, if one continues to study with humility, offering gratitude to the gods, to their family, and to all who support them, then another step—another layer of teaching—will be revealed.
Now, to the heart of this reflection:
In the Kojiki—Japan’s oldest chronicle—we read of a divine mission to pacify Ashihara no Nakatsukuni (the Central Land of Reeds), the world governed by Ōkuninushi. Takamagahara, the realm of the gods, sent deities like Ame-no-hohi and Ame-wakahiko, but both failed.
The gods then convened three times in a heavenly assembly and decided to send Ame-no-Ohabari no Kami, the god of the sword. However, this god resided far upstream in the fast-flowing Heavenly Yasugawa River—a perilous place no other deity could reach.
To contact this distant war god, they sent Ame-no-Kaku-no-Kami.
In my earlier writings, I introduced traditional interpretations of this name—“Kaku” possibly referring to “shining sword” or “deer spirit,” based on classical texts. But now, I have come to a deeper understanding.
The character 迦 (ka) is a sacred one. In Shinto norito (prayers), it symbolizes the act of proceeding while reciting sacred words. One interpretation is that this deity could travel safely because of the continuous chanting of norito and divine protection.
But there is more.
The Chinese character “迦” was originally created to phonetically represent the Sanskrit “ka,” as in Kṣitigarbha—Kṣiti meaning “Earth,” and Garbha meaning “womb.” In Buddhist tradition, this is none other than Jizō Bosatsu, the Bodhisattva of boundless compassion, literally “Earth Womb.” Hence, Jizō is the very embodiment of unconditional love.
Now think about it—when the gods finally needed to summon the deity of the sword, it meant that force had become the last resort. The sword god dwelled in a place of such difficulty that no one could reach him easily. And who was sent to bring him?
Not another war god.
But a god symbolizing compassion.
This passage in the Kojiki tells us something astonishing:
In Japan, even 1,300 years ago, it was understood that any use of force must be grounded in love and compassion. Power without love is not divine—it is dangerous. This stands in stark contrast to much of the world’s history, where brute strength justified action.
What a profound and beautiful teaching this is.
