The Kuri of Myōzenji Temple – Where Faith and Daily Life Meet

1. About Myōzenji Kuri

Next to the grand thatched main hall of Myōzenji Temple stands a quieter, equally remarkable structure: the kuri, or temple residence.
While most visitors come to Shirakawa-go to see farmhouses, few realize that this humble temple building represents a one-of-a-kind treasure in Japan — the only remaining thatched-roof Buddhist priest’s residence built in the gassho-zukuri style.

The kuri once served as the home and workplace of the temple’s head priest, a space where spiritual life and daily living coexisted seamlessly. Meals were prepared by the hearth, visitors were received in tatami rooms, and the soft ring of the temple bell marked the passing of each day.

Today, the building stands as a museum of faith and village life, preserving the artifacts and atmosphere of a time when Buddhism in Shirakawa-go was not a distant ideal, but a living practice woven into every household.

2. History & Cultural Role

The Myōzenji Kuri was constructed in the late Edo period (around 1817), during a time when the Shirakawa-go valley was flourishing through silk cultivation and mountain trade. The temple, affiliated with the Jōdo Shinshū sect, was already a central gathering point for the community, but it needed a permanent residence for its priest and a facility for education, hospitality, and administration.

Unlike urban temples, which often separated sacred and secular life, Myōzenji’s priests lived among the people. The kuri’s construction symbolized this closeness — faith rooted in daily existence, not removed from it.

The design reflected both religious symbolism and practical adaptation. Built with steep thatched slopes to endure snow, its roof resembled the “praying hands” that define gassho-zukuri. Beneath that roof, villagers came to discuss irrigation, exchange seeds, and even share tea with the priest.

For more than two centuries, the kuri has stood through earthquakes, blizzards, and war, surviving as a rare fusion of Buddhism and vernacular architecture. Today, it remains an essential witness to how mountain faith communities thrived through humility, cooperation, and skill.

3. Architecture & Design Features

The architecture of the Kuri reveals both elegance and endurance.
Built entirely from local cedar and cypress, the structure rises nearly 17 meters high, with its thatched roof forming a steep 60-degree angle — designed to shed the region’s heavy snowfalls efficiently.

The roof is made of thick layers of pampas grass (susuki), bundled and tied with rope rather than fixed with nails. This allows the structure to flex slightly in wind or snow, preserving stability over centuries. The roof’s overhang protects the mud walls and wooden beams from moisture, while the attic beneath serves as vital insulation.

Inside, the timber framework is astonishingly intricate: massive beams crisscross each other like ribs, bound tightly with straw rope. The craftsmanship is purely human — no metal fasteners, no industrial tools. The entire structure was assembled through community effort, using wisdom refined over generations.

The layout reflects temple life:

• The ground floor contained the living quarters and kitchen, centered around a hearth (irori).

• The second floor held storage rooms and silkworm racks, supporting both sustenance and income.

• The attic was used to store grains, religious scrolls, and ritual implements, kept warm and dry by the constant breath of smoke rising from below.

Even today, visitors can see soot-darkened beams, bamboo ceilings, and sliding shoji screens glowing softly in filtered light. Every detail tells a story of coexistence — between human hands, nature’s challenges, and spiritual calm.

4. The Museum Experience

Today, the Myōzenji Kuri Museum offers travelers a rare chance to experience life in a 19th-century temple residence — not through digital displays, but through atmosphere and authenticity.

The rooms are dimly lit by natural light, carrying the smell of cedar, smoke, and time. Exhibits are minimal but meaningful:

• Buddhist ritual tools used in ceremonies — bells, offering bowls, and scrolls handwritten by temple priests.

• Silkworm trays and wooden reeling tools, showing how the temple, like the villagers, relied on silk as an economic foundation.

• Everyday objects — cast-iron kettles, ladles, sandals, and rice barrels — each worn by decades of use.

• Historical manuscripts documenting the village’s relationship with the temple, including registers of births, marriages, and memorials.

Unlike modern museums, the Kuri invites stillness. There are no glass cases or bright signs — just the echo of your footsteps on aged floorboards. The silence itself becomes the exhibit.

You might see an elderly caretaker tending the hearth or adjusting a hanging kettle over the coals. This simple act — keeping a fire alive — perfectly symbolizes the temple’s mission: to preserve not only artifacts, but the warmth of continuity.