“God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong” (1 Corinthians 1:27)
There once lived a master temple carpenter named Nishioka Tsunekazu, who worked exclusively for Hōryū-ji Temple. He passed down the temple architecture inherited since the Asuka period to future generations and was hailed as the “last temple carpenter” for his exceptional skill and knowledge. He oversaw the renovation of numerous temples, particularly taking charge of the major Hōryū-ji temple complex renovation in the Shōwa era, said to occur only once every 300 years.
He understood the unique characteristics of each piece of wood and used it in the most suitable place. He did not suppress the wood’s individuality but rather utilized its inherent qualities. His consistent philosophy was that the way to nurture and utilize both people and wood is the same. Underlying this was a deep reverence for nature. Conquering nature, he argued, was a Western concept. We Japanese, he stressed, must never forget that we are sustained by nature. He used to say, “When building temples, don’t buy the wood; buy the mountain.” By this, he emphasized the importance of seeing not just the individual tree, but the soil it grew in and its growth conditions. He declared, “Building with wood is building with the quirks of the wood; building a team is building with the quirks of the people.” He believed that understanding the wood’s character and assembling it required the craftsman’s heart. As a master carpenter, he carefully observed the craftsmen’s tendencies and skillfully managed the workers on site.
However, he often clashed with scholars and experts, dismissing their opinions as mere theoretical musings and refusing to yield. He famously stated, “Scholars take what carpenters have built and call it scholarship, but that makes them less than carpenters. I am the one doing the work.” It was said that “there is a demon in Hōryū-ji” (referring to his fierce dedication). Regarding training apprentices, he left these words: “What you learn with your head, you soon forget. Tools are the extension of your own body. It is vital to learn with your own hands. If you don’t ‘teach’ them, children will think desperately for themselves. Because we teach them before they think, it doesn’t stick. Isn’t this what modern school education has forgotten?”
This is a saying from one of Nishioka Tsunekazu’s disciples, a temple carpenter: “A dexterous child progresses quickly. But they soon become arrogant, fall back, then rise again—their progress is always in waves. An unskilled child may show little promise at first, but once they grasp the knack through some opportunity, they grow steadily from there. That’s why ‘single-minded unskillfulness’ is best.” Master Carpenter Tsunekazu Nishioka also said, “No master surpasses the single-mindedness of the clumsy.” The dexterous child drowns in their own dexterity. Because they feel they understand everything immediately, their thinking remains shallow. A child called dexterous without any training is simply born with a dexterous mind. If you think that way, then “gifted children are no good.” This master temple carpenter’s words about “dexterous children” and “clumsy children” seem to fit well in many aspects of our lives. There’s something more humanly compelling about a “clumsy person” than a “dexterous person.” And the same holds true in matters of faith.
“God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” There is no shortcut to becoming a skilled carpenter. There is no shortcut to faith either. Truly, “No master surpasses the single-mindedness of the clumsy.”
(Contributed by Father Yutaka Akabae)