The Obon Festival

The Obon Festival

A major Japanese Buddhist festival takes place in August called Obon. It has beautiful aspects of family reunions, local gatherings, and lantern spectacles. Yet there is a troubling side for Japanese Christians. 

 

Obon is one of the three most important annual festivals in Japan. It speaks powerfully of devotion to family. However, this may include honoring the spirits of the family’s ancestors. The day for reverencing one’s ancestors has a long, long tradition in Japan, existing even before Buddhism arrived in the country in the sixth century A.D. An ancient idea was that the living family members could offer their good deeds on behalf of the dead, who they believed were in agony—hanging upside down in hell. This offering would open hell so their ancestors’ spirits could be released..  

 

Many of these original beliefs have evolved or entirely disappeared, and new traditions have grown up. Now families often light a lantern in front of their house or a candle at their altar to guide their ancestors’ spirits home for a short four-day release. During this time, they may offer food and prayers at gravesites, update the spirits on recent happenings, and attend a temple with the recitation of Buddhist scriptures. The celebrants may also take part in a neighborhood folk dance. At the end of the festival, in order to assist the spirits in their return to the other realms, many families—some of whom are just following traditions rather than beliefs—send small boats carrying lanterns and foodstuff down streams, leading the spirits to the ocean.

 

Observing Obon is a strong tradition even for those who are not Buddhist, for it speaks of care and respect for one’s elders while providing some interesting activities. For those people who find comfort in the idea of their deceased loved ones’ homecoming, it is an extremely significant festival. The lanterns and boats also offer a wonderful spectacle to everyone. However, Christians understand that the root of the festival’s traditions is contrary to their faith. They believe the spirits do not really visit, could not be helped by material offerings, and should not be prayed to as powerful beings. 

 

The third book in the Dragonfly Trilogy attempts to show the Obon dilemma for the main character. Without giving a spoiler, I can say that early in the story, she does not deal well with her family’s visit to the gravesite.  

 

When I lived in Japan in the 1960’s, I participated in a neighborhood Obon folk dance, having been assured by my Christian friend that it had no religious connotations. I’m not sure even now if that was the case. But this shows how hard it is for a foreigner like me to understand and explain the festival. For this overview, I relied on a little book by Tatsumi Hashimoto for the historical information and additional pastoral insights.[1] 

 

During this year’s festival, may the Lord give wisdom and strength to the Christians as they show love, care, and respect to their families while avoiding the appearance of ancestor worship.  

 

[1] Hashimoto, Tatsumi. Ancestor Worship and Japanese Daily Life. Tokyo, Japan: Word of Life Press, 1962. 

 

 

 

About Miracle Bamboo

About Miracle Bamboo

In order to share this photo, I did a little research on the “Lucky Bamboo” sitting there on my genuine bamboo stool, which we shipped home from Japan fifty years ago. I found the plant is a fake, not related to genuine bamboo at all! It’s actually dracaena sanderiana, a houseplant that can grow in soil or water. (I wondered why I couldn’t find any dirt under the pebbles and water in my plant’s pot.)

Now, it turns out that it’s lucky I accidentally bought the houseplant because I’ve just learned there’s lots to love about real bamboo and one BIG thing to hate, at least in certain situations.

First, what’s to love? Genuine bamboo, which is actually a species of grass is extremely fast-growing, flexible, and stronger than steel by weight. It can be used to make flooring, fences, giant scaffolds for constructing buildings, hundreds of utensils, even fabric. If a bamboo forest is harvested, the plants grow back in just a few years. Bamboo can be woven into lovely artwork, and the shoots (when treated) are edible, as we know from eating in Asian restaurants.  A breeze blowing through bamboo causes a lovely clacking sound. Bamboo is so useful and beautiful, it is sometimes called a “miracle” plant, bringing to mind our Intelligent Designer.

Now, why can bamboo be abhorred? There are two general types of bamboo: runners and clumpers. Runners are the villains in city yards. There’s a saying: “The first year, bamboo sleeps; the second year, it creeps; the third year, it leaps.” The plant appears docile for the first two years, but its devious root system is expanding underground like crazy. The third year, sprouts may pop up several feet away from the original plant and may wreak havoc in neighbors’ yards too. The clumping type is much more manageable, but the runners are often sold in nurseries—buyer beware.

That said, the deep admiration people feel for bamboo in Asia, where it grows abundantly, can be seen not only in the evergreen bamboo groves cultivated in parks and temple grounds, but also in paintings, folktales, and proverbs. A Japanese proverb says, “The bamboo that bends is stronger than the oak that resists.” This truth can be seen in martial arts when the master bends with his opponent’s attack and then utilizes the opponent’s strength.

Bamboo figures in my first book in one scene. Sumi, who is irrepressibly curious, hides behind a clump of bamboo to spy out a romantic couple. She is shocked to see lips touch in a Western-style kiss. Before she can discreetly move away, she observes a crude man strolling past with the scholar her grandfather wants her to marry. This discovery causes Sumi to take a big risk—one she later greatly regrets.

Have you owned a “lucky bamboo” houseplant or had a grove of real bamboo in your yard? I’d love for you to share any experiences you’ve had with bamboo.

Hot Water, Icy Water, Refreshing Water, and Living Water

Hot Water, Icy Water, Refreshing Water, and Living Water

Water is an amazing, wonderful substance, isn’t it? It not only sustains life, but washes away grime and refreshes us, which leads to this post about the Japanese ofuro and waterfalls, cool fountains, and “living water.”

When I lived in Japan, I gained a great appreciation for the steaming hot water of the ofuro, a deep, wooden tub used for daily baths. After the first minutes (aka shock) of adjusting to the temperature, the water always proved a balm for tiredness. Not only that, but the warmth lingered even when I went outside in the winter. A mirror would show me that my face was almost as red as a lobster, but that was a small price to pay for tingling skin and relaxed muscles.

A far less common custom in Japan makes use of icy cold water. One of my friends told about standing under a waterfall for its sensation of cleansing, both physically and spiritually. Although there are many lovely Japanese waterfalls, you might guess that I bypassed that stimulating experience.

If you visit Dallas Baptist University, the sight of ponds and beautiful fountains, like the one in the photo, can make you feel a tiny bit cooler on a hot Texas day, and even more so if a breeze carries a little of the spray. Can you imagine the temporary relief? (Okay, really small and temporary.)

Fountains can also be reminders of the “living water” Jesus spoke about (John 4). Since His “living water” leads to a never-ending relationship with God—the Source of life and everything good, I’m sure we’d agree that nothing else, no matter how refreshing, can come close to that!

Still, the ofuro is part of a splendid custom that our American showers don’t quite match, and I miss it, especially after long days.

Have you experienced any out-of-the-ordinary customs that you sometimes miss? Please share if one comes to mind.

Haiku—Interactive Poems

Poetry, especially the Japanese haiku, reminds me of interactive games and media. Haiku can change or reflect our moods. The haiku forms a framework and allows us to imagine the scene and interpret the meaning from their own experiences.

Bashō, a seventeenth-century Japanese poet, has written some of my favorite haiku. In fact, my Japanese novels feature this one:

Simple pepper pods

Add gossamer wings to them

Behold: dragonflies

(The Japanese original has the expected format of 5 syllables for the first line, seven for the second, and five again for the third, so I modified my translation slightly to fit the format.) What meaning would you give to this poem? A child’s play? A humorous look at dragonflies? According to the experts, Bashō was expressing that all things are one in their essence. But the poems are meant for enjoyment, and we are free to insert our own ideas.

The themes of traditional haiku center on nature and the four seasons. They convey a keen awareness of an emotion and may hint at a philosophy of life. One theme often repeated is the fleeting nature of beautiful things. When you think of beauty, what comes to mind? The gorgeous cherry blossoms, which last for about a week, are beloved symbols to many Japanese people of what is treasured, but too short-lived. Sōchō, another well-known poet, wrote:

Throughout the morning

I watch the cherry blossoms

Growing old.

A little sad, wouldn’t you say? But where did the blossoms’ beauty originate? The wonderful fact is that the cherry tree’s Designer is eternal. Not only flowers, but also rainbows, music, snow-covered mountains, starry skies, brilliant sunsets are just a little taste of true beauty—a gift from the Giver, the eternal Artist. God designed the cherry tree’s first tiny seed with all the information crammed inside: directions for the roots, bark, trunk, leaves (think of the photosynthesis’ complexity), flowers, and delicious fruit. How wonderful that when we seek to know God through Jesus, we can have an everlasting relationship with the Giver of such beauty!

While writing this post, I tried my hand at creating haiku. Obviously, I’m an amateur. Anyway, here’s the one I wrote:

Jagged mountain peaks

Puncture the risk-taking clouds

Snow covers my path

Perhaps you can catch a glimpse of the traveler’s wintry scene and the tongue-in-cheek connection between the peaks and the clouds. Have you written any haiku? If so, I hope you will share one in the comment area below.

Photo of the dragonfly by Shawn Kenessey on Unsplash.