Why Countless Gods Shape Japan’s Sacred Landscape
Understanding Yaoyorozu and the Spiritual Flexibility of Japanese Belief
“Why does Japan have so many gods?”
This is a question often asked by those from abroad seeking a deeper understanding of Japanese culture, and it points directly to the uniquely Japanese concept of Yaoyorozu no Kami（八百万の神）. To begin, let us approach this question through the lens of cultural anthropology and comparative religious studies as viewed from the West, where Japanese Shinto（神道）has often been framed as a form of animism—defined by the belief that spiritual essence resides in all things.
In simpler terms, Yaoyorozu no Kami refers to a worldview in which a mysterious spirit or divine presence dwells in all phenomena—forests, waterfalls, flowers, as well as in more abstract forces such as systems, growth, or life transitions. Practically everything can be regarded as a manifestation of divinity in this framework. In Japan, this has traditionally been expressed through the concept of “shinrei”（神霊）. Unlike monotheistic religions centered around a singular, absolute creator god, the Japanese religious worldview assumes the existence of innumerable kami（神）—not a supreme hierarchy but a vast multiplicity. For example, if one visits a shrine in Japan, one may find a kami of traffic safety, another of academic success, another of safe childbirth, and so on. All are worshipped to this day as part of daily life.
When one buys a new car, it is customary to pray to the traffic safety kami. Before exams, students pray to the academic kami. During pregnancy, one prays to the safe childbirth kami. In the most extreme case, Iwashimizu Hachimangū（石清水八幡宮） in Kyoto even holds a festival that enshrines Thomas Edison as the “kami of electricity,” attracting worshippers from major electronics companies like Panasonic.
However, while the Western interpretation of Shinto as a variant of animism may offer a useful entry point, it does not fully resonate with Japanese people themselves. How, then, do the Japanese view this concept of Yaoyorozu no Kami from within their own tradition?
To begin with, yaoyorozu is written as 八百万, which is not a literal numerical value but rather an ancient idiomatic expression meaning “countless” or “beyond number.” It does not refer to a specific tally of kami. In classical texts, the term is never used to enumerate deities precisely, but rather to express the perception of boundless spiritual presence embedded throughout the natural and human world—a perception that has persisted to the present day.
For example, in the Kojiki（古事記, 712 CE）, Japan’s oldest mytho-historical chronicle, we find the pivotal myth of the “Amano-Iwato”（天岩戸神話） in which the storm kami Susanoo（素戔嗚命） offends his sister Amaterasu（天照大神）, who then hides away in a cave, plunging the world into darkness. In response, the Yaoyorozu no Kami—countless kami—gather at a sacred riverbank to discuss how to lure Amaterasu out. This episode is considered one of the earliest textual references to Yaoyorozu no Kami, and here too, the phrase is used not to count actual deities but to denote an overwhelming multitude.
Similar usage can be found in other classical works. For instance, the Nihon Shoki（日本書紀, 720 CE） uses the phrase “Ya-so Yorozu no Kami”（八十万神, eighty thousand kami), the Manyōshū（万葉集） mentions “Chi Yorozu no Kami”（千万神, ten million kami), and the Izumo Fudoki（出雲国風土記） refers to “Chi-iho Yorozu no Kami”（千五百万神, fifteen million kami). Though these numbers vary wildly, they all serve the same symbolic purpose: to express the ancient Japanese sense of the divine as omnipresent across nature and society.
This indigenous understanding of divinity was profoundly impacted by the arrival of Buddhism, an imported faith transmitted via China and Korea in the 6th century. Early records suggest that the Japanese referred to Buddhas and Bodhisattvas as “banshin”（蕃神, foreign kami), distinguishing them from local deities while simultaneously absorbing them as another kind of kami. According to the Nihon Shoki, this absorption occurred with surprising ease—so much so that one could say the Japanese instinctively treated Buddhist figures as simply more entries in their existing pantheon. Of course, political resistance did occur. The anti-Buddhism faction led by the Mononobe clan and the pro-Buddhism fanction led by Soga clan clashed repeatedly, but these were largely political struggles for court dominance, and Buddhism seems to have been smoothly accepted by the people at large.
What enabled this cultural flexibility? The answer lies in the foundational openness of the Japanese notion of divinity. Because the Japanese already had a deeply rooted worldview that sacralized nature and phenomena, new forms of spirituality could be embraced without conflict. Buddhism was not seen as a rival, but rather as something that could be folded into the existing cosmology. Indeed, in this early stage, it was not Buddha who encompassed the kami, but the kami who absorbed the Buddha.
This initial period of upheaval emerged as Buddhism began to spread throughout Japan. At first, Buddhas were regarded as one type of kami and easily absorbed by the native Japanese worldview. However, over time, a new interpretation arose that reversed this relationship—rejecting the ancient notion that Buddhas were subordinate to kami and instead asserting that Buddhas were fundamental. This significant shift marked the beginning of what would later be known as Shinbutsu-shūgō（神仏習合）, the syncretic blending of Shinto and Buddhist beliefs.
This balance eventually shifted. As Buddhism expanded its institutional power, a strategic theological framework emerged known as Honji Suijaku（本地垂迹説）—“manifestation theory (holding that Shinto kami are manifestations of buddhas).” This doctrine flipped the earlier logic: instead of kami encompassing buddhas, it declared that the kami were merely temporary manifestations (suijaku / 垂迹) of true Buddhist divinities (honji / 本地). This philosophical pivot effectively reoriented Japan’s religious hierarchy and allowed Buddhist institutions to assert dominance while preserving the appearance of local continuity.
With the relocation of Japan’s capital to Kyoto in 794 CE, the Honji Suijaku doctrine flourished. Syncretic shrines emerged, such as Kumano Gongen（熊野権現） and Hakusan Gongen（白山権現）, where Buddhist and Shinto identities were fused into single figures. Such hybridization was only possible because the Japanese religious imagination had always been non-binary, with Yaoyorozu no Kami offering a flexible metaphysical matrix.
In the later Heian period, the expanding power of Buddhist temples became a destabilizing force, contributing to the eventual rise of the samurai class. During this turbulent time, more tangible, image-based religions like Buddhism—with its statues, scriptures, and visual rituals—better met the social need for order and clarity. Thus, while the indigenous kami belief system persisted, it often receded behind the more systematized Buddhist worldview.
Yet this was never a complete displacement. Even during the apex of Buddhist influence, ordinary people continued to live with a layered spirituality that acknowledged both buddhas and kami without contradiction. This dual religiosity, forged through centuries of syncretism, remains one of the defining features of Japanese spiritual culture.
Understanding the history of Shinbutsu-shūgō（神仏習合, the syncretism of kami and buddhas）is essential to grasping why Japan appears to have so many gods. This blending of beliefs reflects how the Japanese people have, over centuries, approached spiritual questions with a deep sensitivity to place, time, and tradition.