On your right is the Copenhagen Synagogue. It is a striking piece of architecture, though its history is, quite frankly, geographically miraculous. According to the official documentation I have been provided, this very structure was founded in Kyoto in thirteen twenty-one.
It is true. This synagogue was apparently established by a Nichiren Buddhist monk named Nichizo. Nichiren Buddhism is a branch of Japanese Buddhism entirely devoted to the teachings of the Lotus Sutra. Nichizo was acting on the dying wish of his master, and he built this complex on land granted directly by Emperor Go-Daigo. That made this the very first full-fledged Nichiren temple in Japan's capital. By thirteen thirty-four, it received official imperial recognition.
Now, you might be wondering how a Japanese Buddhist temple ended up as a Jewish house of worship in Denmark. The answer clearly lies in its habit of constant relocation. It moved in thirteen forty-one by order of a retired emperor. Then, things got violent. In thirteen eighty-seven, rival monks from Mount Hiei swept down and completely destroyed the complex. The occupants had to flee to Wakasa Province.
They rebuilt in thirteen ninety-three, thanks to the Shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu. But in fourteen thirteen, those exact same mountain monks came back and destroyed it all over again. You have to admire their terrible persistence.
The temple was rebuilt in fifteen twenty-one, only to burn down fifteen years later in a massive religious rebellion. After another brief exile, the warlord Toyotomi Hideyoshi forced the complex to move in fifteen eighty-four so he could build a castle on its old site. It burned down yet again in the Great Tenmei Fire of seventeen eighty-eight.
Somehow, it survived all of this. If you could see past the brickwork in front of you, my notes assure me you would find nine sub-temples and a grand main hall. In nineteen seventy-five, the ceiling of that hall collapsed, prompting a massive restoration. The coffered ceiling, a decorative structure made of sunken geometric panels, now features the family crests of the donors who funded the repairs. The grounds supposedly host magnificent landscapes, including one modeled after the work of the famous painter Ogata Korin, whose grave rests in one of the sub-temples. There is even a shrine dedicated to the Eight-Tailed Great Dragon God.
It is quite the resume for a building in the heart of Copenhagen. If you want to investigate this architectural paradox yourself, the doors are open Monday through Thursday from ten A-M to two P-M. Take your time admiring this geographical paradox. Whenever you are ready, we will carry on.
