Author: Kenjo Igarashi

Before arriving in Sacramento, I became the head minister of the San Francisco (S.F.) Nichiren Buddhist Church starting on September 12th, 1976. This also happens to be the same day that Nichiren Shonin was persecuted at Tatsunokuchi in 1271. And while I refer to it as a church, it was technically a small one-bedroom apartment where the head minister could also live. Therefore it was difficult for me to adjust to living in what was also a place of worship. Nevertheless, I was still young, ready to fulfill my duties under the given circumstances, and full of hope for the future. To further explain, I had arrived in the United States (Los Angeles) the year prior. During that year, I had held services for members of the Shintokai, the Nichiren Shu Sangha Association in Los Angeles. To this day, I am grateful for all these members to have had enough faith in me to hold these services, given that they had only known me for a short period of time. I was determined that even upon moving to S.F., I would continue to fulfill what I felt as my responsibility to the Shintokai members. To that end, I have continued to hold monthly Shintokai services for the past 44 years.

Upon arriving in San Francisco, I realized that many of the members were scattered all over San Francisco, Palo Alto, and the East Bay. I would drive and pick up many elderly members who could not come to the services on their own. Aside from Shintokai and S.F. Church services, my daily life primarily consisted of chanting the sutra in front of the altar. During this time, on the first day of every month, I started praying for Rev. Chikyo Kurahashi. He was the fourth resident minister of the Sacramento Church (simultaneously in charge of the S.F. Church) and had subsequently transferred to the Portland Nichiren Buddhist Church. He had passed away on November 1st, 1957, at the age of 49 in a motel, while traveling all over Oregon to collect donations from every member of the Church for the Church’s building fund. The more I thought about his family members, the more sorrow I felt. Hearing his story and his level of commitment to his job was very shocking, especially to someone like me who had just arrived in the U.S. prepared to fulfill my position as an overseas minister. Soon thereafter, I would further realize that life would be more difficult than what I had envisioned.

During this time, life for overseas ministers was very different from what it is now. While I did not receive any salary from the S.F. Church, the Shintokai provided me $50 for the monthly services. Given that this was my only source of income, I had to think of ways to survive off of $50 per month. Around that time, Mrs. Masako Sano, an elderly member of the S.F. Church, invited me to a party at her house. During our conversation, she suddenly asked me to teach judo three times a month to her four grandchildren. She had known about my background in judo, which included having a 5th degree black belt, as well as competing in the National Athletic Championships in Japan as a student. She had somehow realized my struggles and had offered me a way to put my years of judo training to us. I started teaching her grandchildren judo in her son’s garage. After every lesson, her daughter-in-law would have food prepared for me to eat there and also to take home with me for the next day. Her kindness was essential in helping me survive.

However, it was not too long until I would once again be faced with challenges. After months of adjusting to my new life, the owner of the apartment, who was also a member of the Church, informed me of her decision to sell the building. I was fortunate enough to find another apartment. A year later, Bishop Joyo Ogawa, who at the time was the head of the Nichiren Order of North America (NONA), visited the Church just in time for the November Church meeting. During the meeting, I vividly remember him suddenly stating, “As of today, President Nakanishi of the S.F. Church will be leaving his position and will no longer be a member of this church.” President Nakanishi did not come to this meeting and thus it made this situation very confusing. I later learned that some members had already known about this. However, this was shocking news to not only me, but also to many of the elderly members. I remember not fully understanding what President Nakanishi’s departure meant and trying to internalize the situation. In that moment, I did not fully comprehend what exactly was going on. Treasurer Ito continued by stating, “The Church will pay rent for this apartment only until the end of December so please leave before then.” It was then that I finally realized that the S.F. Church was being shut down in a month and this was the first time I was being informed about it.

To be continued…

Ven. Kenjo lgarashi
January/February 2019

Part 2   Part 3

The farmer’s child was leading me to the path that would take me to Lake Motosuko, my next destination. Because the child had grown up in the area, he knew the area very well and swiftly led the way. He was so fast that it was difficult for me to keep up with him. When we finally reached the National Route, I remember feeling a moment of relief from seeing all the cars passing by-a scene that differed greatly from the miles of farmland that I had passed by for hours on end. After thanking the child, I continued along the National Route for some time and entered a long tunnel, which at the time lacked adequate lighting. I felt extremely frightened walking in this dark tunnel, yet as I exited, I was greeted by Lake Motosuko, glimmering underneath the bright blue sky. Given that I was witnessing this beautiful scenery following a typhoon, it is possible that the rain droplets that had not yet evaporated accentuated the vivid colors. I was not only moved, but also left feeling small when I saw Mt. Fuji standing so tall and majestically across the lake. I continued along the National Route as I approached the lakeshore and also the base of Mt. Fuji. When I arrived at the lakeshore, I saw many people enjoying their time on their boats and swimming in the lake. I took a moment to look at myself and reflect on my own situation-my Buddhist clothing that I was wearing was covered in mud, my feet were in pain, and I had no money. But in this moment. I felt a sense of happiness, which probably differed from those that were enjoying their time in the lake. I remember tears streaming down my face as I felt gratitude for having been granted this opportunity to undergo my shugyou.

I left Lake Motosuko and continued along the National Route. As I approached Lake Shojin, I noticed that some people were taking pictures of me. I raised the brim of my tendai-gasa and realized that they were foreign tourists who seemed to be intrigued by me. I became hopeful that my Buddhist clothing would lead them to at least think about Buddhism. It may have been a literal representation of a Buddhist phrase, “igi soku buppou,” which means that the Buddha or Dharma is within you and however you choose to present yourself reflects that.

I stopped by a small store near Lake Shojin that was selling souvenirs among other items. I noticed that the store had an outdoor faucet and decided to ask the old man sitting next to it if I could take a sip of water from it. As I approached him, he was quick to tell me that he thought I was an elderly priest since not many young priests undergo angya training (walking while chanting the sutra and beating the hand-held taiko drum) anymore. The old man kindly offered me milk and a Japanese pastry. Before parting with him, he gave me directions to my next destination and warned me to be careful, as night was quickly approaching.

As the sky darkened, I found myself near Aokigahara Forest, also known as the “suicide forest” in Japan since many individuals are known to commit suicide there. I decided to continue along the long path surrounding the forest. I also came to terms with the fact that I would probably not be able to leave that area in time to sleep in a more pleasant location that night. I could feel that I was being surrounded and followed by the lingering spirits of individuals who had passed away in the forest and proceeded to pray for them. I continued walking and praying for the rest of the night, though I have little recollection of that evening. As the sun rose, I remember feeling the need to take a break and leaned against a tree near the edge of the forest to sleep for a few hours before continuing my shugyou.

For the next five days, I continued takuhatsu (stopping and praying in front of each house and, if possible, receiving a donation in return) during the day. During my angya training, I also made sure to stop by and pray for any small stupas I encountered along the roadside, which were for people who had passed away from car accidents. At night, I would find the closest and empty train station or bus stops, or sometimes parks, and sleep on the benches. Back then it was still not as common to find homeless individuals sleeping on park benches. I remember one time a surprised police offer woke me up to tell me that I could not sleep on the park bench. When I told him that I was in the middle of a shugyou, he told me that though he was technically not allowed to do this, he would let me sleep at the small neighborhood police station for the night. I continued to encounter many people during my training, including a time when a truck driver pulled over to offer me a ride. I kindly refused, explaining once again my shugyou. However, there were also moments when I was refused food for entering a tiny restaurant in my muddy Buddhist clothing.

While it has been several decades since I completed this training and made my way back to Tokyo, I believe that the kindness I encountered from so many people, the spirits I prayed for, and the benefits I accumulated during my training have contributed to helping me live the life that I live today. To this day, I pray for these individuals and spirits every day. I also feel gratitude and appreciation towards the Buddha, Nichiren Shonin, shotenzenjin, and other deities, who have allowed me to undergo and complete this and other trainings that I would subsequently undergo. However, Buddhist training for lay members is more an accumulation of your daily actions, your prayers, being aware of your surroundings, and taking the time to help others in need. I personally undergo these trainings not only for myself, but also so that I can help others through the knowledge that I have gained from them. I am hoping that this three-part series has helped people to not only learn about one of my previous trainings, but also to reflect on ways that they themselves could pursue their own Buddhist practice.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
September 2018

Part 1 Part 2

After walking for over six hours, the typhoon had finally subsided. I was very hungry and wanted to enter a small restaurant, but decided to do so after drying myself off. I opened my zudabukuro to take out a change of clothes, but all the contents in the bag were soaked because of the rain. I took out each piece of clothing that I had and left them out to dry. I also proceeded to unzip a small compartment in my zudabukuro, which I knew contained my wallet. However, to my disbelief, my wallet was gone. Thinking back, I am glad that I noticed my wallet was missing before entering the restaurant and eating my meal. Yet at the time, I was so shocked that I could barely stand.

With each passing moment, I felt my hunger grow as I frantically tried to figure out how to return to my parents’ house in Tokyo. After some thinking, I calmly reasoned that since (1) I was a minister and (2) I was in a small town, the best way of surviving would be to do takuhatsu (stopping and praying in front of each house and, if possible, receiving a donation in return). Having never done takuhatsu before, I was unsure about the exact steps, but decided that I would do my best and focus on praying for the peace and prosperity of all members of each household. I stopped by the first house and prayed, simultaneously beating my hand-held taiko. When I finished my prayer, I realized that someone from the house had stepped outside holding an ohineri (wrapped offering of money, often coins). Knowing that I was not allowed to receive the donation with my bare hands, I presented the backside of my taiko where the person placed the ohineri. I cannot forget the feeling I had when I received my first ohineri. I recall stopping by around 20-30 houses in this small town. Most of the individuals who were home at the time I stopped by to do the takuhatsu waited for me with the ohineri in their hand. There were varying amounts in the ohineri, ranging from a couple cents to a few dollars. I was very grateful to have received more than enough donations to buy some food. With that being said, I had reached the outskirts of the town and realized that it would take too much time to walk back to the restaurant that I had initially planned on stopping by. I instead decided to eat at the next town over.

Unfortunately, I soon realized that there was a problem with my plan, as it seemed that there was no town nearby. I continued walking only to find that I was approaching the mountains and what seemed like no sign of human existence. Hungry and thirsty, I contemplated drinking the muddy water that had accumulated due to the typhoon. Even the weeds started looking appetizing and like a potential food source. However, I told myself that I would not become like the individuals in the world of hungry spirits and used every bit of energy I had left to force myself to continue walking.

After walking a bit further, I finally came across a farmer who had stopped by his farm to check on his field after the typhoon. I was elated to see him and decided to approach him. I was so thirsty that I asked him for some water and he instead invited me to come along with him to his friend’s house nearby. I followed him there only to realize that the house was empty. The farmer offered to take me to his own house where his wife was waiting for his return. I had initially requested for only some water, but upon reaching his house, the farmer’s wife greeted me warmly and asked me if l was hungry. The happiness and gratefulness I felt at that very moment when she offered me food is unexplainable. I believed that the Buddha and deities had transformed into this couple to help me. To this day, during my morning prayers, I remember to pray for all those individuals who had helped me during my pilgrimage. However, I must admit that the farmer and his wife are the individuals that first come to mind. I do not know their name or where they live or used to live. However, their kindness is one that I will never forget.

After receiving the food, I tried to leave them some money, but they refused and insisted that the food was their form of donation to me. I thanked the farmer and his wife and proceeded to leave their house, only to realize that I did not know how to find my way to my next expected stop, Lake Motosuko. I asked the farmer who told me that his son, who was maybe in elementary school at the time, knew of a shortcut and would be able to lead the way. I once again thanked the couple and followed the child, knowing t hat my shugyou would continue.

To be continued …

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
September 2018

Part 1 Part 3

I became a minister on April 28th, 1968. I had just turned 20-years old earlier that month and had entered the temple to start my shugyou (training or ascetic practice) on my birthday. I spent the next 25 days until April 28th, feeling very. unsettled and trying to adjust to my new life. Despite having some doubts, I was determined to become a minister and went through with my decision. For the next year, I trained under my master, learning not only how to chant the sutra, but the other duties and expectations that come with being a minister.

After my training, I became a student at Minobusan University in Yamanashi, where I majored in Nichiren Shu doctrine. During my time there, I realized that many of the students were born and raised in a temple. They had known from a young age that they would ultimately inherit their parent’s profession of being a minister. As a result, many of my peers already knew the basics of Buddhism and the Nichiren Shu doctrine. However, I did not come from such a background-I was influenced to become a minister after reading Nichiren Shonin’ s writings and also from seeing my mother’s strong faith in Nichiren Shu since my childhood. I quickly realized that I needed to find my own form of shugyou. I started by trying to catch up to my peers, including spending any extra time I had, learning the Nichiren Shu doctrine. After class, I would visit Nichiren Shonin’s mausoleum with my hand-held taiko drum, sit on a stone paving, and chant the odaimoku for 30 minutes. I continued this every single day for three years until I graduated from Minobusan University to attend Rissho University in Tokyo, where I continued my studies on the Nichiren Shu doctrine.

Despite this and many other attempts to develop my own form of shugyou, I was not convinced that I was doing enough. As a result, during my first summer at Minobusan University, I decided to travel by foot and go on a pilgrimage from Minobu back to my hometown in Tokyo. I planned to walk a total of 100 miles in six days, while simultaneously chanting the odaimoku and beating my hand-held taiko drum. I was very concerned not only because it was my first time going on a pilgrimage of this sort, but also because none of my peers and upperclassmen had taken on such a task. I decided that I would leave my fate to the deities and prepared my belongings that I would put in my zudabukuro (bag) that my mother and father had made for me. I prepared a few changes of clothes, money, and six pairs of waraji sandals, one for each day of my trip.

However, on the morning that I had planned to start my pilgrimage, I found out that a typhoon was expected to hit Yamanashi. I started to rethink my plan to leave for Tokyo that day but decided that I had to go through with my pilgrimage–it was a promise that I had made to the Buddha, Nichiren Shonin, and the deities. After finishing my usual morning prayer at the main temple, I ate breakfast and prayed at Nichiren Shonin’s mausoleum. With my bag and taiko drum in hand, I put on my tendaigasa (woven hat), and started my trip. By the time I left Minobusan, the typhoon had already brought strong winds and heavy rain. I assumed that it would end soon, but the weather only worsened. As time passed, it became more and more difficult for me to beat my taiko drum, let alone walk. I was walking on Japan National Route 52, which has the Fuji River on one side of the road and very rocky and steep hills on the other. If l walked on the side closest to the hills, there was a chance that I would be hit by giant rocks that were rolling down the hill, or worse, a landslide. However, if I walked near the water, I risked being blown into the river by heavy gusts of wind. I ultimately decided to walk in the center of the road, desperately hoping that I would not be run over by a car. I fortunately made my way to the bridge that would allow me to cross the Fuji River and go to Shimobe, the next town over. By that time, the river had widened and become very muddy, the water levels had risen, and the stream was flowing faster. If the bridge were to be destroyed as I was crossing it, I knew I would be swept away by the strong current of the river. I paced back and forth in front of the bridge for 20-30 minutes, hesitant to risk my life, but also trying to mentally prepare myself. Once I knew I was ready, I clenched my hat with my left hand, placed the hand-held taiko under my left arm, and used my right hand to hold onto the rails as I carefully made my way across the bridge. I wondered whether the deceased felt the same way when they cross the Sanzu River. As I finished crossing the bridge, I felt relieved, knowing that I had just experienced a life or death situation.

As I continued my pilgrimage, the typhoon eventually subsided and the sky cleared up to reveal a blue sky. The weather became sweltering hot, so much so that I remember the heat to this very day. At that point, I had already been walking for six hours, hungry and drenched from the heavy rain. I decided to dry out my belongings and looked inside my bag. It was from this moment on that my real shugyou would begin.

To be continued …

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
July 2018

Part 2 Part 3

Throughout history, we have seen how different religions have been integrated into various countries and cultures. Famous examples of this include the religions that spread along the route of the Silk Road. In the case of Buddhism, the Silk Road contributed to the development of Buddhist art. It is said that statues of the Buddha did not exist prior to 3rd century BC, when Buddhism reached Gandhara, a kingdom of Ancient India, located in present-day Pakistan and Afghanistan. Gandhara is famous for Greco-Buddhist art, an art form that merged classic Greek culture and Buddhism. The first statues of the Buddha emerged from Gandhara and are thought to have been created by Indo-Greeks who lived in the region. The sculptors were inspired by figures in Greek mythology, which influenced the European facial features of the early statues of the Buddha. Greco-Buddhist Art would later influence Buddhist art and depictions of the Buddha in various countries, primarily those in Central and East Asia.

Interestingly, in many pieces of Gandhara art, we see that the Buddha is shown being protected by Heracles, thought to be one of the greatest heroes in Greek mythology. He represents strength and masculinity, among other features. Many believe that Heracles is representing Vajrapani (Jp. Shukongoshin ), a bodhisattva that protects and guides the Buddha. Further examination of Gandhara art reveals that other figures from Greek mythology are also shown along with Bodhisattvas and the Buddha.

Similarly, we see that Nichiren Shonin incorporated deities of Japanese mythology throughout his own practice and propagation of the teachings of the Lotus Sutra. This is most evident in his mandalas, where he inscribed names of bodhisattvas and deities in Japanese mythology, among other figures. Nichiren Shonin’s reasons for incorporating these Japanese deities were not just to merge Buddhism and Japanese culture. It also related to his idea that deities that show up in the Lotus Sutra, as well as those in Japanese mythology, have the obligation to protect the followers of the Lotus Sutra. Specifically, it is said that Shotenzenjin, guardian deities, often gathered around the Buddha when he was giving his sermons, and vowed to the Buddha that they would protect the followers of the Lotus Sutra. Unlike the previous example of Heracles representing Vajrapani, Nichiren Shonin did not represent bodhisattvas as Japanese deities, but directly included them by name into the mandala. However, Nichiren Shonin also incorporated some of deities from Japanese mythology that were directly accepted as bodhisattvas (syncretistic deities) during the 8th century in Japan. There are many opinions regarding his reason for incorporating these Japanese deities. One suggested reason is Nichiren Shonin’s idea that these Japanese deities had continued to protect Japan ever since the country was first created. Therefore, Nichiren Shonin believed that they would support spreading the teachings of the Lotus Sutra in order to save the people of Japan during the time of mappo. I am hoping that the next time you have the opportunity to look at the Nichiren Shu mandala, you will be able to see how Nichiren Shonin incorporated the Lotus Sutra into Japanese culture.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
May 2018

I would like to first start by wishing everyone a Happy New Year. In Japan, late December is an important time when many families prepare for the New Year in various ways, including cleaning any accumulated dust around the house. This is especially important for temples, given the significance of “cleaning” in Buddhism. After being ordained as a minister, the first lesson I learned was how to clean. I must admit that in the beginning, I did not think the task would be too difficult. This is because as a child, I had been taught how to clean not only my school and house, but also my general surroundings, such as picking up any trash in public areas. I soon realized that cleaning the temple was a much more demanding task, requiring great attentiveness to detail. In fact, I was taught to not even leave a spec of dust behind. However, this concept of “cleaning” emphasizes not only the physical act of dusting the temple and our surroundings. It also teaches us to reflect on our own actions and any wrongdoings we may have done in the past. It is an opportunity to purify our mind.

To better understand this, I would like to tell you a story about Cudapanthaka, a disciple of the Sakyamuni Buddha. He was a very slow learner, so much so that it would take him approximately three to four months to memorize a single verse that the Buddha taught him. Children listening nearby would memorize the verse before him and would ultimately end up teaching him instead. His older brother, also a disciple of the Buddha, was quite the opposite of Cudapanthaka and known to be very clever and smart. Disappointed by Cudapanthaka, the older brother one day approached him and said, “There is no reason for you to be in this Sangha. Just leave.” Upset by his brother’s words, Cudapanthaka sat and cried tears of sadness. Eventually the Buddha approached him to ask the reason behind his tears. After explaining the situation, the Buddha grabbed a broom and told him, “Take this broom and use it whenever you are cleaning. As you are cleaning, repeatedly recite the following words: clean the dust, purify the mind.” Cudapanthaka did as he was told, trying his best to memorize and recite this phrase, while cleaning every nook and crevice he could find in his surroundings. It is said that he ultimately achieved enlightenment, by both the physical act of cleaning and the simultaneous purification of his mind.

This will be my 29^th year since first arriving at this church. Throughout these years, I have continued to clean the church in various ways, including dusting the inside of the temple, mowing the lawn, doing carpentry work, as well as painting the buildings. Many people who do not know this have mentioned to me at some point or another that the Sacramento Nichiren Buddhist Church has a good gardener and janitor.

I continue to clean the church and its surroundings because it is not enough for the church building to simply be in existence—it must always be physically clean. This is because the church is a place where everyone can purify his or her mind. It is not possible to do this if the church is not clean. My job as a minister is to help purify people’s minds. I have made various efforts to purify my own mind in order to perform this task. This includes my kaji kito training in Japan, where I both purified my own mind, while learning how to use kito to better help an individual cleanse their spirit.

I hope that whenever you physically clean your surroundings this year, you will also use that time as an opportunity to reflect and purify your own mind.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
January 2018

In the United States, there were two deadly mass shootings during the months of October and November of this year. In October, 58 people were mercilessly shot to death in Las Vegas. In November, 28 members of a church lost their lives in Texas. No matter how many times these tragedies involving guns occur, the United States continues to debate gun control. These recent shootings have led me to think more about sandoku (三毒, “three poisons”), which I would like to further discuss in this article.

As you know, in Buddhism, there are six realms/states of existence: heavenly beings, humans, ashura, hungry spirits, and beings in hell. We are born in this world as human beings with the goal of furthering our practice to attain Enlightenment. Even though we are born as human beings, it is possible for people to experience conditions similar to the other realms/states of existence. For example, individuals living a life full of happiness may see this world as heaven. In contrast, others who struggle to find any form of happiness in their life and experience only despair may see this life as hell. However, it is important to remember that this world is neither paradise nor hell. We as human beings are the ones that create this “heaven” or “hell” in this world that we live in.

All human beings are born with sandoku: (1) tonyoku (貪欲, “greed”), (2) shinni (瞋恚, “anger” or “resentment”), and (3) guchi (愚痴, “stupidity” or “ignorance”). They are some of the defining features that explain why we are born into this world of human beings. Greed causes us to want anything and everything we desire. Having anger makes us to be hostile towards others. Lastly, ignorance prevents us from clearly distinguishing right from wrong, which results in making spontaneous decisions without much thought. If we are unable to rid ourselves of sandoku, we will be reborn into this world of human beings and continue to face the four sufferings (birth, aging, sickness, and death). Is there any cure for these three poisons?

A parable in chapter 16 of the Lotus Sutra hints at the answer to this question. Many of you may already know this parable, but it is about a great physician who had many children. One day, the physician went out of town for a business trip and during his absence, all his children accidentally drank poison. The physician returned home to see his children suffering. The children were delighted to see their father return and asked for a cure. The father prepared medicine, which appealed to the senses. Though there is more to this story, ultimately, the children were saved. This medicine, which is mentioned in this story, this antidote to the sandoku, is none other than the odaimoku. True happiness will never be obtained while we have this sandoku within us.

Going back to the recent shootings, people who hold anger within their hearts only feed and nurture that anger when obtaining a gun. Along with getting rid of the sandoku within us, I believe it is necessary to make a conscious effort to rid the world of weapons as well.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
November 2017

As Buddhists, we observe several religious customs throughout the year, many of which involve praying for our ancestors. Most recently, we had the Obon (お盆) service in August, followed by the upcoming Ohigan (お彼岸) service in the fall. While there may be many meanings and reasons behind observing these Buddhist traditions, there are two that I would like to focus on in this article. They include (1) acknowledging life’s impermanence and most importantly, (2) reflecting on the importance of our Buddhist practice.

(1) Recognizing Life’s Transience
There are certain Buddhist customs, including those mentioned above, that remind me of the notion of shogyo mujo (諸行無常), or in English, “the impermanence of worldly things”. I first learned this concept in college when training to become a priest. We are made aware of this impermanence in our daily lives, ranging from daily tasks that we do (e.g. watering plants to prevent them from wilting) to happenings that we hear about from others that are beyond our control (e.g. the unexpected deaths we hear about on the news). However, it is often funerals and memorial services that amplify this notion of impermanence. They evoke a stronger sentiment because of our direct connection to the deceased. It also forces us to face and acknowledge that life on this earth, including our own, is transient.

Throughout my approximate 50-year career as a minister, I have always reflected on this notion of impermanence as a way to help me understand death as a sad, but unavoidable end to the course of one’s life. However, no matter how many funerals I have attended or conducted, it remains one of the most difficult tasks that I must do as a priest.

(2) The Importance of One’s Buddhist Practice
As previously mentioned, many Buddhist customs focus on expressing gratitude and remembering those that have passed. However, some people tend to focus too much on this idea. In fact, many spend little or no time understanding the significance that these traditions play in furthering a person’s Buddhist practice and faith.

Many of Nichiren Shonin’s writings include letters he wrote to his followers who expressed their individual concerns about reaching Enlightenment. As many of you know, in Buddhism we believe that the deceased goes on a 49-day journey after their death, where they will reflect on their lifetime of memories. They will be reminded of the most joyous moments of their life, as well as some of the difficult times. Nichiren Shonin knew of the hardships that one might face throughout this journey, as explained in a letter to one of his followers:

“I, Nichiren, am the world’s utmost devotee of the Lotus Sutra. If you pass away after me, remember that there are many trials that you must undergo (throughout your 49-day journey). Pass each trial by declaring in front of the judge that you are the follower of Nichiren, the world’s utmost devotee of the Lotus Sutra. When you must cross the fast ripples of the deep river, the Lotus Sutra will become your boat. When you must climb the treacherous mountains, it will become your vehicle. And when you must travel along a dark road, it will become that glimmer of light in the darkness. I, Nichiren, will promise to wait for you at the entrance to the Northeast gate to Enlightenment, so that you do not lose your way.”

Nichiren Shonin provides positive reassurance in his letter thus far. Yet his tone changes in the subsequent lines, informing the individual of consequences that could result from lack of Buddhist practice and faith. He continues:

“However, I must warn you of the importance of having faith (in the Lotus Sutra). An individual lacking piety should not expect to receive help upon claiming to be Nichiren’s follower. They will enter into the suffering world as quickly as the large rock that tumbles down the cliff, and the raindrops that fall from the sky and hit the earth.”

Nichiren Shonin’s statement directly relates to the teachings in Chapter 6 of the Lotus Sutra. It states that while everyone has the potential to become the Buddha, whether or not the individual achieves enlightenment depends on his or her level of commitment to practicing Buddhism. The hope is that they do not just rely on praying during services at the temple, but also make an effort to individually practice Buddhism in their daily lives.

Since an individual’s life is transient, we have a limited time (i.e. our individual lifespan) in which we can practice our faith in this world. I am hoping that many of you will try to incorporate both of these ideas as you continue to practice and find ways to deepen your faith in Buddhism.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
September 2017

Welcoming our ancestors through celebrating Urabon-e is a very important event that must be continued. During the three days of Obon, lasting from July 13 to July 16 an altar other than the family altar is made out of small tables and called a “shouryoudana.” This shouryoudana is used for calling the ancestors spirits and offering them food and certain delicacies. Bamboo is placed on each of the four corners of the shouryoudan with a rope made from wild rice straw tied to each piece of the bamboo. On that rope, as seen in the picture above, we tie certain plants with specific meanings and let them drape down. On top of the table, a mat made from the wild rice straws is spread out and food such as fruits, cookies, and vegetables are placed. A lotus leaf is placed on both sides of the table, the one on the left containing diced eggplants and the one on the right filled with water. The eggplants on the left are meant to represent our 108 worldly passions, and the water on the right is meant to purify those worldly passions. A horse is also made out of a cucumber, and a cow out of an eggplant. The horse represents our hopes of the ancestors to come quickly riding the horse, and the cow represents our hopes for them to return to the spiritual world slowly, riding the cow, expressing our hopes to spend more time with our ancestors. It is important to welcome and treat our ancestors the same way as treating a guest from a distant location. The Obon in Tokyo and Yokohama is from July 13 to July 16, however in the countryside, Obon is from August 13 to August 16. Many people from the cities return to their hometowns, making Tokyo appear to be very empty during that time and shops left no other option but to close down for the time period. Like this, there are many people in Japan who care for their ancestors so I would like you all, even if you don’t make a shouryoudana, to care for your ancestors and continue to pray for them.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
July 2017

Postscript: In response to “On that rope, as seen in the picture above, we tie certain plants with specific meanings and let them drape down,” a writer asked: “Could you tell me the name of these herbs and their meaning?”

First, the reason why we put up the rope is to create a barrier so as to prevent the evil spirits from crossing the division (towards the altar). I want to mention that in Japan, there are many ways to prepare the altar for Obon, depending on the region, family, etc. Therefore, the plants draped on the rope also differ depending on the region, family, etc. That being said, some people usually just put up a plant called Physalis alkekengi (“hozuki” in Japanese, or “Chinese lantern” plants). This is because as the English name suggests, the plant is shaped like a lantern and therefore represent a physical lantern to light the way and guide your ancestral spirits to your altar. Once the spirits arrive, it is said that they rest on the plants and listen to you chanting the sutra.

Preparing the altar for Obon (including the rope, plants, etc.) takes time, but it also provides you with the opportunity to express your gratitude towards your ancestors and remember those that have passed. Especially in the Lotus Sutra, the idea of praying for your ancestors is especially important.

For this newsletter, I am including my sermon from the memorial service held on March 25, 2017 for Mr. Kanji Hitomi, who suddenly passed away on March 6, 2017. Mr. Hitomi cared for the temple, as evidenced by his many efforts and contributions, which I reflect on in this article.

Since Mr. Kanji Hitomi’s retirement 23 years ago, he has spent the majority of his time, helping the temple in countless ways. He helped with temple maintenance through his skills in carpentry, plumbing, and painting, among others. He also prepared for the annual bazaar throughout the year, including growing plants and making dustpans to sell at the bazaar. Some of you may not know that he also built the hexagonal reverse tapered stand for the lanterns in front of the altar in the temple. Those of you who have had the opportunity to see it up close can probably tell from the intricate details of the stand that it is very difficult to make. I was, as probably many of you, always amazed by the quality of his work. Everyday when I pray in front of the altar, I always see this stand and am reminded of Mr. Hitomi.

I also remember how Mr. Hitomi would stop by the temple whenever it was time to prune the matsu, or Japanese pine trees, around the temple. He would tell me that he was not afraid of heights and would swiftly climb up approximately 15 feet on the ladder to start the task. Nevertheless, I was always concerned for his safety and remember nervously holding the ladder while he started cutting the tree branches. Throughout the years, I have learned how to cut the branches of the matsu from Mr. Hitomi and have since taken the task upon myself. However, whenever I prune the trees, I feel as if they are asking me to be gentler with the task, like Mr. Hitomi. In fact, I was in the middle of pruning the matsu when I learned of his passing.

Whenever I think about how much Mr. Hitomi cared about the temple, I am reminded of another individual. This person is in fact Uemura Naomi, a famous Japanese adventurer. When I was still living in Japan, I had heard from many people that he lived near the Ikebukuro district in Tokyo, which is where I grew up. He was a frequent customer of a small eatery known in the area for their yakitori, or Japanese skewers. I myself went there sometimes with my friend and saw him during one of our visits. He was known for his many achievements, including being the first person to climb Alaska’s Mt. McKinley (now known as Mt. Denali) during wintertime, solo. Unfortunately, he never returned after his second trip to Mt. Denali. I have heard that adventurers feel the need to outcompete other explorers and those that have preceded them. Therefore, they take on dangerous tasks, leading them to face various life or death experiences. By refusing to attempt such risky journeys. they lose the opportunity to gain sponsorship for subsequent explorations. After hearing about his disappearance on the news, he, for-some reason, appeared one night in my-dream. I remember being so stunned, saying to him, “Everyone is worried about you. Please come back and put everyone’s mind at ease.” To my surprise, he told me, “I have become the mountain so I cannot return.” After this, I quickly woke up from the dream. I think Uemura Naomi treasured the mountains so much so that he wanted to become one with them.

In the same way, Mr. Hitomi never ceased to talk about the temple and ways to help preserve it for future generations. I would like to think that he has become a guardian of the temple, who will continue to look over it for generations to come.

Ven. Kenjo Igarashi
May 2017