A Multicultural Fusion

The happiest holidays in Japan—like New Year’s—don’t begin with fireworks and champagne. Instead, a mysterious picture is slipped under one’s pillow, depicting seven wildly grinning, far-from-handsome deities sailing in a boat amidst magical clouds. Next to a fish, a wish-granting mallet, and a bag overflowing with fortune, there’s a character: "宝" – treasure. These are the Shichifukujin, living proof that in Japan, religions don’t merely coexist—they joyfully blend like colorful ingredients in a dangerously strong cocktail. The Seven Gods of Fortune—a peculiar dream team made up of Hindu warriors, Taoist sages, Buddhist monks, and Japanese sea gods—tour the shrines of Japan like a rock band... bringing prosperity in their wake.

Sounds like a mythological-pharmacological hallucination? And yet, it was precisely this extraordinary septet that gained phenomenal popularity during the Edo period, when Japan closed itself off from the world, and dreams of overseas treasures—and wealth—only intensified. The Shichifukujin captured the imagination of the people so completely that they were hung on shop walls, revered on pilgrimages, and sold as images in “fukubukuro”—lucky grab bags. They became the spiritual stars of joyful holidays, and their boat—Takarabune—reminded people that happiness could sail in from afar, even if the ports were closed.

But who are these gods, really? Why does one look like a smiling Buddha, another hold a lute, a third a spear, and a fourth have a head shaped like a pumpkin? Why is there a fisherman god among them, along with a semi-legendary saintly monk, and the Hindu goddess Saraswati—who in Japan plays the biwa and commands a dragon? And what do they have to do with dreams, ancient economics, or even... a subtle critique of Tokugawa shogunate policy? Hop aboard their boat—what lies ahead is a voyage through legend, history, art, and Japanese ways of attracting good fortune!

Where Did These Divine Wanderers Come From?

Before the Seven Gods of Fortune boarded their legendary Takarabune to make the people of Japan laugh, bless, and grow rich, they were like cosmic seeds scattered across the map of Asia. Their story is one of spiritual fusion that would make any Californian fusion restaurant blush—a blend of Hindu warriors, Taoist elders, Buddhist monks, and native Shintō deities.

It’s somewhat like a bar full of old eccentrics from all corners of the world who suddenly decided to start... a boy band.

The first notes of this mythological symphony were struck in the inspiration from the Chinese Seven Sages of the Bamboo Grove, who lived during the Three Kingdoms period. These eccentric intellectuals, known for drinking wine and mocking court hypocrisy, became an archetype of spiritual freedom—their ideas traveling alongside Chinese art and philosophy to Korea and Japan. From their ethereal aura was born the Japanese concept of a lucky seven—not as obedient little angels, but as vivid, diverse characters that defy classification within any single religious system. It's worth noting that even in antiquity...

The Muromachi Period: An Era of Strange Alliances and Spiritual Patchwork

In the culturally turbulent Muromachi period (1336–1573), Japan experienced a spiritual awakening laced with the chaos of war. It was then that these scattered deities began to be gathered into a single team—though there was still no final decision on who exactly made the divine league. Benzaiten—the goddess of music and wisdom who had come from India as Saraswati—was already performing concerts on the biwa. Daikokuten, the former Hindu Mahākāla, had become the guardian spirit of rice... and Japanese kitchens. And Ebisu? He was Shintō, familiar—a limping but lovable fisherman—and the only one with purely Japanese origins.

During this time, the popularity of visual art—paintings, ukiyo-e woodblock prints, and miniature netsuke—helped the Shichifukujin gain fame. Their images resembled illustrations from a mad fairy tale: oversized heads, sacks, mallets, fish, dragons, biwas, and pagodas. No wonder they eventually became icons not only of household altars but of the era’s Japanese “pop culture” as well.

Edo: The Golden Age of Happiness in an Isolated Country

Then came the Edo period (1603–1868)—a time of peace, isolation, and... happiness fever. Though Japan had closed its ports to foreigners under the sakoku policy, the people’s imaginations remained wide open. It was during this time that the Shichifukujin flourished, and their Takarabune—the Treasure Ship—became a metaphor for all good things that could sail in from distant lands. Longing for the outside world found its expression in the symbolism of these gods.

In cities like Edo (now Tokyo), the Shichifukujin meguri pilgrimages emerged—ritual journeys to seven temples, each dedicated to a different god. People collected temple seals, prayed for success in business, health, art, dreams—even good sleep! Because if you place a picture of the gods on their boat under your pillow on New Year’s night, you're said to dream something lucky. And if you don’t? Not to worry—there are ways to cancel the bad luck: by burying the picture or tossing it into a river.

It’s worth mentioning that the lineup of the group wasn’t fixed from the start—it fluctuated, sometimes including Kichijōten (Lakshmi, the goddess of beauty and fortune), or treating Fukurokuju and Jurōjin as one and the same deity. In the end, it was this latter duo—with their elongated heads and company of cranes and turtles—that made it aboard.

Thus, through the colorful patterns of ukiyo-e, amidst incense-scented pilgrimages and under the blessing of the lucky number seven, the Japanese cult of Shichifukujin was born—a peculiar committee of happiness that managed to survive eras, wars, and modernization. And now? Now it’s time for us to meet them too—the sacred seven of happiness, each with their own style, personality, and realm of miracles.

The Seven Gods of Fortune – Individual Portraits of the Deities

Let’s take a closer look at this colorful troupe of divine bringers of joy—though each so different, together they form something like a supernatural orchestra playing the anthem of abundance. Each of them has their own roots, history, appearance, and specialty. In this section, we’ll get to know them better: from the literal meaning of their names, through their multicultural origins and path to Japan, to their present-day incarnations, attributes, and personalities. Ready? Let’s begin with the most familiar (most Japanese) among them.

Ebisu (恵比寿) – the only native Japanese deity, patron of fishermen and commerce

恵 (kei, “grace” or “blessing”) + 比寿 (Ebisu – an archaic form of the name composed of phonetic characters meaning “comparison” and “longevity”). Today, the name simply reads as “Ebisu,” but in the past, it was written as 蛭子 – “leech child.”

Ebisu is the only member of the Shichifukujin group who originates from Japan. He is often identified with Kotoshironushi no Kami, the son of Ōkuninushi (remember him? We wrote about him some time ago, here: The Hare – The Trickster Pounding Mochi on the Moon: How Does the Hare's Symbolism in Japan Differ from the Easter Tradition?), the god of the land in Shintō mythology. According to one version of the gods’ birth myth, Ebisu was a deformed child created by the deities Izanagi and Izanami, born “without bones” – hence the early nickname “leech boy.” Abandoned by his parents in a boat, he was said to have drifted to the shores of the Ebisu province (now Hyōgo), where he was revered as the protector of fishermen.

During the Heian and Kamakura periods, he was worshipped locally as a deity of fishing, but it wasn’t until the Edo period that he achieved nationwide fame. With the growth of cities, trade, and merchant culture, Ebisu became a symbol of business success. He often appeared alongside Daikokuten – together, they were patrons of prosperity and abundance. His cheerful disposition and accessibility made Ebisu’s image a staple in shops, markets, and breweries (to this day, we see his likeness on Ebisu beer labels).

Ebisu is always smiling, often with rosy cheeks. In one hand, he holds a fishing rod, and in the other – a large fish (usually a plump tai, or sea bream – a symbol of good fortune). He wears a cap resembling the eboshi, a traditional headgear of merchants and fishermen. His presence heralds good fortune, abundance, and success. Cheerful and kind-hearted, his luck is never envious – he is a god who shares wealth without expecting offerings in return. He is sometimes called the god of “hard work rewarded by a smile of fate.”

Daikokuten (大黒天) – a fusion of Mahākāla and Ōkuninushi, god of harvest, kitchen, and wealth

大 (dai – “great”) + 黒 (koku – “black”) + 天 (ten – “heaven” or “deity”). This name is a semantic rendering of the Sanskrit Mahākāla, meaning “Great Black One” – a name of one of the wrathful aspects of Shiva.

Daikokuten has his roots in India as Mahākāla – a terrifying manifestation of Shiva, god of time and destruction. In China, he was adapted as a guardian of monastic kitchens, and in Japan – through a play on words – he was identified with the native god Ōkuninushi, ruler of Izumo, associated with fertility, agriculture, and magic. This syncretic fusion made Daikokuten an extremely popular deity of prosperity.

In medieval Japan, Daikokuten was primarily present in Zen monasteries, where he looked after pantries and kitchens. In the Edo period, he acquired a new persona: no longer the fearsome Mahākāla, but a friendly, chubby figure with a sack of happiness. He was worshipped in homes, shops, and storehouses, and his images were placed next to those of Ebisu as a “divine business duo.” He also inspired the tradition of fukubukuro – New Year’s “lucky bags” sold in shops.

Daikokuten is most often depicted as a short, plump man with an enormous sack full of riches, a wish-granting mallet (uchide no kozuchi), and a wide, ever-present smile. He often sits atop a sack of rice, symbolizing abundance. His personality is a blend of generosity, industriousness, and nurturing care. Though he descends from a wrathful Indian god, in Japan he became a warm, domestic deity – protector of the kitchen, pantry, family hearth, and financial well-being. You might say he’s a kind of Japanese Santa Claus, with a mallet instead of a sleigh.

Bishamonten (毘沙門天) – warrior and guardian of Buddhist law, patron of victors

The kanji 毘沙門天 derive from the Sanskrit Vaiśravaṇa, the name of a powerful Indian god of wealth, who in Buddhism became one of the Four Heavenly Kings (Shitennō), specifically the guardian of the north. The Japanese version is Bishamonten – a fearsome guardian of the Dharma, clad in armor, holding a spear in one hand and a pagoda in the other. His symbolism? Strength and wisdom combined – he defeats demons but also protects sacred texts.

In Japan, his cult flourished especially during the Heian and Kamakura periods. Bishamonten was the patron of victors – not only on the battlefield but also in everyday life. He was worshipped in temples on Mount Kurama, and his image often accompanied samurai – believed to grant courage and shield from treachery. In the Edo period, he joined the Shichifukujin as a symbol not so much of aggression, but of determination, bravery, and perseverance – values essential in the merchant world, where daily battles were fought as well.

Bishamonten is the only one of the Seven who never smiles. Always stern, focused, resolute – but not cruel. He is like a mentor who throws you into the deep end so that you can discover your strength. He is the god of courage, strategy, and protection. If Ebisu is your cheerful neighbor, and Daikokuten the family cook and kindly grandpa, then Bishamonten is the general who hands you a sword, pats your shoulder, and says: go fight for your happiness.

Benzaiten (弁財天) – the only woman in the group, goddess of art, beauty, and fortune

Her name, written as 弁財天, originates from the Indian goddess Saraswati – patroness of rivers, music, knowledge, and wisdom. The kanji mean “heavenly eloquence” and “wealth” – for Benzaiten combines the gift of speech with abundance. In Japan, she landed on especially fertile ground – water has always held deep symbolic meaning here, and art and beauty were treated as sacred. Over time, she began to be depicted with a biwa – a traditional Japanese lute – and as an extraordinarily attractive woman who, however, can transform into a warrior wielding eight swords in eight hands.

The cult of Benzaiten flourished especially during the Heian period – she was venerated by the aristocracy and poets, and temples dedicated to her arose in the most picturesque places, such as Chikubushima on Lake Biwa. In the Edo period, she gained a new role – as the patron of talent and artistic success. Many actors, musicians, painters, and even… gamblers prayed to her for inspiration and a lucky hand. To this day, Benzaiten’s temples are full of charm and sensuality – often surrounded by water, koi carp, and cherry trees.

Within the Shichifukujin, she is the only woman. Benzaiten is a deity who says: life is art – so create, play, love, and don’t fear the spotlight. Sometimes flirtatious, sometimes melancholic, sometimes dangerous. In one hand she holds a biwa, in another a sword, and on her shoulder a dragon might rest. She is the goddess of inspiration and strength, beauty and artistic rebellion.

Hotei (布袋) – the cheerful Zen monk, symbol of generosity and fulfillment

布袋, literally “cloth sack” – this name refers both to his characteristic bag full of treasures and to his loose, comfortable robe. In the Chinese original, he was known as Qìcǐ (契此), a wandering monk from the Liang dynasty who, according to legend, could predict the weather and people’s destinies. In Chan (Zen) Buddhism, he was considered a manifestation of the bodhisattva Maitreya, the future Buddha.

In Japan, Hotei quickly won the hearts of ordinary people – his outrageously large belly, eternally cheerful face, and fondness for handing out sweets to children made him one of the most recognizable deities of happiness. During the Edo period, his figurines could be found in taverns, shops, homes, and temples – as amulets of joy, abundance, and family blessing. It was also believed that rubbing his belly brought good luck – a custom that continues to this day.

Hotei is the living embodiment of cheerfulness. Carefree, with his bag of gifts, he wandered the world teaching the quiet joy of simple living. Although often portrayed as slightly naive and talkative, his figure embodies Zen philosophy: to possess nothing – and to desire nothing – is true wealth. His sack may contain material things… or absolutely nothing. After all, it’s not objects that bring happiness, but the attitude of the heart.

Fukurokuju (福禄寿) – the Taoist sage of longevity, happiness, and social reputation

His name, 福禄寿, is one of the most optimistic compounds in the Chinese-Japanese language of symbols: fuku (happiness), roku (social rank, promotion), and ju (longevity) – in other words, everything the human heart could desire. He originates from Taoist Chinese mythology, where he was identified with the Southern Polar Star (Nankyoku no Hoshi), invisible from the northern hemisphere and thus mysterious and symbolically immortal.

He arrived in Japan along with Taoist astrology and the art of geomancy, where he began to be revered as the patron of sages, long-lived elders, and family patriarchs. During the Edo period, he was worshiped not only in temples but also in the homes of merchants and samurai, as a guardian of family legacy and domestic peace. In netsuke and ukiyo-e prints, he is often accompanied by a crane, turtle, or deer – symbols of longevity.

Fukurokuju is easily recognizable – his enormous, elongated head resembles a pumpkin or an onion, symbolizing accumulated wisdom and life energy. He is quiet, dignified, gently smiling, often contemplative. He is often depicted with a staff and scroll – fond of solitude, reflection, philosophy, and tea. He is the guardian of those who live slowly, but deeply.

Jurōjin (寿老人) – the Taoist patron of old age, bearer of the “scroll of worldly wisdom”

The name 寿老人 literally means “long-life elder,” and that’s exactly how he appears – a bearded, cheerful old man with an upright posture, often holding a scroll that contains the secrets of a long life. Like Fukurokuju, Jurōjin also comes from the Chinese Taoist tradition, where he was the personification of the southern star and keeper of the calendar of life.

In Japan, Jurōjin was often confused with Fukurokuju – to the point that in some regions they were treated as one deity. However, over time he came to be clearly distinguished by character: he was more active, cheerful, and close to the people. During the Edo period, he was especially worshiped among farmers and common folk, who dreamed of health, peaceful old age, and a gentle life alongside family.

Jurōjin always carries a scroll – the “scroll of the world’s wisdom,” an astrological calendar and book of life in one. He is often accompanied by a deer – a symbol of purity and longevity. His presence exudes gentleness and calm – he’s the kind of grandfather everyone wishes they had: wise but not grumpy, serene yet full of perspective on life. He believes in moderation, smiles, and harmony – and his blessing is not wealth, but a long and good life.

Symbolism and Iconography – the dream ship and clouds of fortune

There is no Shichifukujin without their legendary vessel – the Takarabune (宝船), or “Treasure Ship.” This is no ordinary boat – it is a floating ark of blessings, gliding through the seas of dreams and imagination. Its sail flutters proudly, often adorned with the character 宝 (takara) – “treasure” – and from its bow gaze magical symbols of prosperity: the tai fish (a pun on the word “omedetai” – congratulations), Daikokuten’s hammer, Hotei’s sack, Benzaiten’s lute, and sometimes even… a turnip symbolizing stock shares (kabu) – so that they may rise!

Around the ship swirl zuiun (瑞雲), or “auspicious clouds” – in Japanese art, these are signs of divine presence, like spiritual incense smoke spiraling toward the heavens. And on the sail or below deck, one might see the name Baku (獏) – the legendary creature that feeds on… bad dreams. In the Edo period, a picture of the Takarabune was placed under the pillow on New Year’s night to dream of something lucky. If one dreamt something terrible – the picture was to be thrown into a river, so the misfortune would drift away with the water.

The images of the Seven Gods of Fortune lived not only in dreams, but also in pockets and on altars. Delicate netsuke made of ivory or wood – miniature sculptures attached to kimono sashes – often depicted the laughing Hotei or the contemplative Fukurokuju. Paintings were hung above the tokonoma in merchant homes, and in temples, pilgrims bought scrolls, wooden talismans, clay figurines, and bells that were meant to attract their favorite deity. Everyone could choose what interested them most – longevity, artistic talent, business success – and invite into their home the deity best suited to that aspiration.

Shichifukujin in Cultural Practice – Between Ritual and Play

New Year in Japan is not only osechi ryōri and the sound of temple bells. It is also the time of Hatsu Yume (初夢) – the first dream of the year, which is believed to predict the months to come (more about it here: Hatsuyume – The First Dream of the Year: Planning a Year with Strength, Wisdom, and Discipline). In addition to the classic symbols of luck (Mount Fuji, a hawk, and an eggplant), many Japanese people hope to see the Shichifukujin drifting through their dreams on a boat filled with smiles, fish, and a biwa lute. To increase the chances of such a dream, people still buy special paper prints of the Takarabune, which are placed under the pillow precisely on January 1st. That is when luck can be invited in for the whole year.

And once you wake up, it’s time to hit the road! In cities like Tokyo, Kamakura, Kyoto, or Tsukuba, the Shichifukujin Meguri (七福神巡り) – a New Year’s pilgrimage to seven shrines, each dedicated to a different god – enjoys great popularity. This is not a solemn, quiet monk’s walk – it’s a joyful game, a hunt for goshuin stamps and colorful figurines. Children search for the gods’ symbols, adults line up for lucky charms, and in some temples, visitors are even served free amazake – a sweet rice drink that warms you more than sake.

But the Shichifukujin don’t vanish from Japanese life once the holidays are over. On the contrary – their smiles are everywhere. In fish bars, you’ll almost always find Ebisu with his rod and a plump tai; Daikokuten, with his sack full of rice, reigns in kitchens and restaurants; and in shops selling calligraphy and art supplies, you may find the subtle Benzaiten playing her biwa. At markets, one can buy clay bells shaped like Hotei, and his masks adorn festivals and street performances.

And here’s one more bit of magical fun: “Which deity are you?” Modern Japan fully embraces this playful idea – not based on zodiac signs or blood types, but… the day of the week you were born. Monday? Jurōjin – a gentle, intuitive artist. Friday? Daikokuten – a realist, a tireless worker with big plans. Each of the seven deities represents a distinct archetype.

Shared, Light, Balanced Happiness – Perhaps Common, But Not Shallow

The Seven Gods of Fortune do not promise miracles. They do not offer instant enlightenment in a flash of zen, nor riches delivered in three business days. Their brand of happiness doesn’t gleam with Hollywood smiles or loud triumph – it’s rather the quiet kindness of everyday life, the unexpected peace that sits beside us as we sip tea. Each of these deities represents a timeless virtue: honesty, generosity, patience, creative energy, wisdom born of experience, a love of the arts, or the ability to take joy in simple things. Reality can be harsh – and sometimes, solace is found precisely in these soft, almost unremarkable emotions, states of being, values.

It’s no wonder, then, that after the turbulent decades of war and reconstruction, when Japan had to redefine who it was and what it wanted, the Shichifukujin made a return. In the postwar years, when material poverty mingled with spiritual emptiness, it was they – the old, colorful, slightly eccentric gods of happiness – who began to reappear on shop doors, pilgrimage cards, and New Year’s postcards. Their cult was revived not because they belonged to a religion – but because they were human. They said: “Do what you can. Be kind. Don’t lose hope. Happiness will return, like the tide.”

Today, in an era of constant exhaustion, their presence feels relevant once again. Hotei reminds us that sometimes it’s enough to just laugh. Fukurokuju whispers that longevity also means having time to grow, not just live longer. Benzaiten proclaims that beauty and creativity are just as vital as money and success. Each of these deities carries a simple message: happiness is not something to be acquired – it’s something to be co-created, together with others, with nature, with everyday life.

The Shichifukujin are a mirror of the Japanese approach to happiness: communal, aesthetic, balanced. They do not seek sanctity in solitary mountains, but in the city’s bustle, in the alleys of Yanaka, in a quiet bow before a small roadside shrine. They are close. Deeply human.

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"Strong Japanese Women"

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    未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

  Mike Soray

   (aka Michał Sobieraj)

未開    ソビエライ

 An enthusiast of Asian culture with a deep appreciation for the diverse philosophies of the world. By education, a psychologist and philologist specializing in Korean studies. At heart, a programmer (primarily for Android) and a passionate technology enthusiast, as well as a practitioner of Zen and mono no aware. In moments of tranquility, adheres to a disciplined lifestyle, firmly believing that perseverance, continuous personal growth, and dedication to one's passions are the wisest paths in life. Author of the book "Strong Women of Japan" (>>see more)

Personal motto:

"The most powerful force in the universe is compound interest." - Albert Einstein (probably)

Mike Soray

(aka Michał Sobieraj)

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