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In the fall of 2005 I was asked by Rev. Usuki to present a talk (at the annual Tri-Temple mini-seminar sponsored this year by our own WLA Buddhist Education Committee) about my personal connection with Buddhism and how my Jewish heritage impacts those beliefs. I’ve been honored by many requests to reprint my discussion that day, however, feeling it is too tedious to reprint in its entirety, I have, instead, edited my notes for this article. I claim no originality as it has been a lifelong process I am only beginning. And I do so after learning that by sharing my personal beliefs with my friends in our Sangha, I improve myself in the process.

Drawing from a wonderful book entitled, The Jew in the Lotus by Rodger Kamenetz, I like to describe myself as a man with Jewish Roots and Buddhist Wings. I was born into a Jewish tradition with rich cultural traditions including food, dance, music, and history, but my spiritual nourishment has surprisingly (for me) come from Shin Buddhism. That makes me different in perspective from others in our Sangha. I live in a dualistic world in which I am so fortunate to honor my Jewish family, its traditions and history, and, at the same time, to continue on my path inside Jodo Shinshu Buddhism that has shined a spiritual light for me (hence, the Buddhist wings with which I feebly try to “fly up”).

As the poet Louis Reyes Rivera recently stated, “Always there is need for song. And every human has a poem to write, a compulsion to contemplate out loud, an urge to dig out that ore of confusion locked up inside. But with the contradictions of privilege and caste, of class and gender-distinctions regulating access, of those ever-present distortions in textbooks with their one-sided measure of human worth, and with the culture of white man still serving as ultimate yardstick to what is acceptable,”…“not everyone is permitted to learn to read, much less to study poetry or hone the art and take the risk of putting one's self on paper.”

While wanting to be naturally soothed by self-definition, too many among us learn to rely on commercial lyricists to reflect our joy and pain. In attempting to write out my “poetry”, my thoughts, for this seminar, I found myself substituting the thoughts, the feelings, the memories, the deeds of others lest my own thoughts and feelings were inadequate; insufficient; incapable of rising to receive the accolades of my friends joining me this morning, at this time, to honor the Dharma. At best, we latch onto committed activists who take on as social vocation the work of bridging the human spirit with word made flesh. At worst, we fall prey to professional wordsmiths (politicians and preachers alike) who conjure up another religion that dissuades us from social contention. Somewhere in between these two extremes, we sometimes meet (as we do now in this “Dharma Dojo”) to hear the experience and thoughts of others from which we may extract some personal benefit.

Eventually, I came to understand that the one true religion isn’t Zen or Taoism. And it isn’t Hinduism, Buddhism, Judaism, or Sufism.  Nor is it Christianity. The one true religion doesn’t have a name. All the religions with names are derived from the one true religion, which is here and now, eternal, the living law of what actually is.  Christ and Buddha, Moses and Mohammed, and every other real spiritual teacher saw the same thing. There is nothing else to see. But all of them had to speak to the people of their time and culture, which is why they sound so different to us. But the source is the same. Aldous Huxley called the one true religion the “Perennial Philosophy.”

And still we meet to confer together in our search for the poetry and dance and sustenance of the soul. 

“The Perennial Philosophy is what’s true for everyone, everywhere, always. All stress the importance of telling the truth. All say----if they are true----that we shouldn’t harm each other because we’re all brothers and sisters. When Christ said that one must be born again, he was speaking of the enlightenment experience. The goal of life is the realization of god within each of us. Ultimately, you can’t get it out of a book; you have to experience it directly. “The kingdom of heaven is within...”

And an older, more ancient good Book teaches that Moses led the children of Israel out of the land of bondage, and out of the land of Egypt, to freedom, to a promised land of milk and honey. We all look to escape the slavery of Egypt; but the slavery of Egypt and the freedom of Israel is merely a metaphor for our sometimes earnest efforts to shed the chains of our own slavery: to escape the midnight horrors of our own childhood; our own nightmares; our own lives; our own choices; to end the blame we shower on our own parents, on others, on our own past, our own mistakes, as an explanation, or an excuse, a reason, a declaration of non-responsibility. I search for Huxley’s Perennial Philosophy because of my own fear, my own loathing of my fear to carry on my search in my own words; to look for my own poetry.

As many others before me have said, “...you can’t get it out of a book...” So what is my own poetry? My own fears of inadequacy and insufficiency in my life’s story? My life in Samsara? I seek and take refuge in the Sangha with each of you, to find an awareness of my own limitations, my own fears, my own ignorance, my own anger, on a spiritual plane in which I may hopefully learn to accept myself as I am. When each of us finally arrives at the end of our own waterfall, joining together again as we began...when each of us finally ends the exodus from our own inner-Egypt, filled with compassion rather than judgments, perhaps we will learn some acceptance of our deepest selves that permits us to be compassionate with ourselves, and to all beings as the gift we truly are to and for each other.

Ku no shaba ya,
sakura ga sa ke ba,
saita to te.
A world of grief and pain,
Flowers bloom;
Even then.....
-Kobayashi, Issa

Rev. Masao Kodani, in his article entitled, “Seeing is Letting Go of Believing” that appeared in Prajna, June 2002, wrote:

“The two aspects of awakening in Jodoshinshu are seeing oneself for what we are and, at the same time, being swept up by the true and real. The process of knowing the self is a long, uneasy, ever-deepening, humiliating experience. It is an experience that, when seen from an ego-based point of view, leads to depression and negativity, followed by a rationalization process which attributes the cause to others and outside influences and circumstances. Throughout this process the ego, unbeknownst to us, remains in charge and creates a truth and reality that affirms and bolsters itself. This of course does not lead to being swept up by the true and real.” [emphasis added]

These comments speak a deep truth to me in my search for awakening. Knowing myself is merely one of the very first steps in embracing the Nembutsu. And it is a humiliating process. I resist the truth of what I am by a variety of (subconscious) rationalizations. I try to maintain what we used to call in the 1960’s, our “Look Good.” How do others see me? There’s no doubt that I want them to see me at my best. Well, “No,” not just my best. Better than my best; beyond “better”. When I encounter others with whom I am not intimate, I can fool myself and most often also fool others by acting (and that IS the right word: Acting) with the right thoughts, the right view, the right way, so that others come to believe that I’ve really got a handle on what I am. “What a great guy!” is what I’d like them to believe. Yet, such “self power” efforts to achieve respect and dignity are intrinsically self-defeating because they are not authentic.

I find that the best way for me to continue my path to knowing what I am is not from the accolades I may receive from others at work, at our Temple, or even from friends with whom I’ve established long term relationships, but rather, from those few people who really know what I am: My wife, and my most intimate friends. I may be able to fool others, but not the lady I live with. And if it’s truth and awakening I’m really looking for, examining my behavior in relation to her is often the best measure of what I truly am.

I’ve belonged to a “Men’s Group” for close to 15 years which has itself been meeting continuously for more than 30 years. We meet every other Thursday night, and twice each year we go out of town for an extended weekend. We talk! That’s it. Just Talk. Mostly, we vigorously engage in trying to help each other to see ourselves for what we truly are, without judgment. Extracting each others emotional teeth, one by one, year after year, is difficult and humbling. But it’s the only path I know to help me to see what I am and how I’ve changed, if at all. There’s no Bull in these discussions, and sometimes, some real lessons to learn IF my ego will allow me to hear what’s being said.

In my search for awakening, and seeing myself for what I am as a step towards embracing life’s truths (the “true and real”), I have tried to apply and understand the abstractions that I’ve encountered in the Dharma to my day to day experiences. This isn’t easy. How do I learn to apply and use the beauty of Buddhism in my everyday life? My greatest difficulty in awakening to Buddhist concepts is in my efforts to forge a connection between the abstractions (for example, Self Power versus Other Power, or trying to live the unity of the Nembutsu and the momentary experiences of Shinjin that some have experienced and written about) and understanding how they play out for me each day. When I try to focus on my own behavior and the manner in which I am a substantial contributor to difficulties I may encounter, then I have the opportunity, if I consciously choose to accept it, to learn about myself in real Buddhist terms. If I can’t relate the lessons of a Dharma talk to my own life experiences, then I haven’t understood the lesson. My wife, for example, has little difficulty separating the proverbial wheat from the chaff. And her input often tells me far more about how little I’ve progressed in my search for awakening than the carefully chosen comments of my friends. Don’t get me wrong. I love and encourage positive comments about my behavior; I like being told I’ve done something well. But I’m talking here about true awakening, and sometimes, for me, when I am willing to really listen, it’s helpful to hear the truth.

When I argue with my wife I all to often have the same silent
dialogue with myself: “It’s her fault!.” “If only she was more reasonable, more compassionate, more understanding of my… (read that as the correct...) point of view, she’d openly admit I was right.” “How can she be so foolish not to know such things.” And delving even deeper into a most unflattering admission, I (my ego) know she’s wrong and misguided. I know it! Yet my truth is that I am never free of fault in disputes I have with my wife or my friends although my ego seldom permits me to admit that even to myself, let alone to them. And if I can’t learn to awaken in my most intimate relationships, then I believe I will fail to do so in the other, easier, and more casual relationships in my life. It’s so much easier for me to blame all my shortcomings on others.

I’m not talking about the cliché that “everything is a two way street.” While true, it remains too superficial and to easy to be truly helpful in arriving at “Jin Nen”--------at being unconsciously authentic------at reaching that unity of compassion and wisdom I’ve read about with such interest. Only when I begin with the knowledge that I am the source of the suffering my ego imagines comes only from the short-sightedness of my wife, or my friends, am I ready to start, reluctantly, to know myself. And of course, those momentary first steps are repeated over and over again during the course of my life. The search never ends. The journey IS, as so many have said before me, what it’s all about, not the finish line. Because slowly, very slowly, I try to accept and hear the truth-----------that I am my wife, and my wife is me---------and we are all one. As Rev. Kodani says at the end of his article: “We become the vibrantly living paradox of hopelessly self-centered and at the same time swept up in the truth and beauty of lifedeath, Namoamidabutsu.

Gassho,

Rick Stambul

Rev. Taitetsu Unno, in his Foreword to Coffinman by Shinmon Aoki, comments:

This little book, a diary of a mortician, invites the reader into the fascinating world of Buddhist spirituality which sees the ex-traordinary in things ordinary, mundane, and even repugnant. … Coffinman is not a standard English word but a translation of the Japanese, nokanfu, whose job was to pick up a corpse, place it in a coffin, and ultimately prepare it for a funeral. The author, a failed businessman and once aspiring writer, is a coffinman, which invites nothing but rebuke from family and friends. But he conveys a refreshing view of life that only a person in his position can bring.

Beginning his job as a coffinman, Aoki’s autobiographical book talks about the harsh judgments of his wife and neighbors over his occupation. But slowly, Aoki guides us through his acceptance both of his job and himself.

Last night, when I went to her seeking affection, she turned me down. “And I won’t,” she said, “until you quit that disgusting job of yours.” … “You’re defiled! Keep away from me!” she said hysterically refusing my advances. … [T]hat got to me.

The tragedy of today’s thinking that death is to be abhorred as evil and life accrued absolute value, is the fact that everyone must die one day, bringing us face to face with an absolute contradiction. … For instance, the passage, “Though in the morning we may have radiant health, in the evening we may be white ashes” from Rennyo’s letter on the White Ashes no longer has the power to shock those who hear it.

That all things are impermanent expresses the truth that all things and events in the world undergo a continual process of change, never stopping even for a moment. This word finds a special place in the hearts of the Japanese people. And in a paragraph that I initially found off-putting, Aoki describes a life affirming experience:

There was no need for me to stick around to clean up the maggots, but it was possible the site would be used for the funeral, so I started sweeping them up just in case. As I was sweeping them together, I got a better look at the maggots as individual existences. I noticed some were trying to crawl up the pillars to get away. A maggot is just another life form. And just when I was thinking that, I was sure I saw one of them glow with light. [Emphasis added]

The light Aoki was referring to is the light from Amida Buddha, a theme that repeats itself throughout this book. For example, in a later section of Coffinman, Aoki reveals a tender story that I think works on several levels:

… [T]he telephone rang … It was one of my relatives asking me to make a hospital call to that uncle of mine who was now hospi-talized with cancer. It was years since we last met, the last time being when he broke off relations with me. I caught myself thinking something like, “Serves him right after what he did to me!” I still burned with indignity from that time. He called me a disgrace to the family; he made me crawl like a worm—that I could never forget.

But under pressure from his wife, Aoki nevertheless visits his uncle near the end of his uncle’s life struggle and says:

My uncle was looking in my direction and was trying to say something … When I felt him grip my hands ever more slightly, I thought I heard him say, “Arigato,” thank you. Then later again, still grasping my hands, he repeated in a voice barely audible, “Arigato.” That face of his was so soft and gentle, it virtually glowed. [Emphasis added]

The next morning my uncle died. The resentment in my heart was gone. The only thing I felt building up was a sense of shame. At the funeral, as I offered incense, I said, “Uncle, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” The tears were rolling down my cheeks in a steady stream.

As Taitetsu Unno so eloquently says, “Aoki the coffinman, with ‘eyes like the clear blue sky and transparent like the wind’, shares this rich spiritual legacy with quiet humor, penetrating insight, and boundless compassion.”

I often find studying our brand of Buddhism, Shin Buddhism, to be difficult on even my best days. I get stuck in the mud of academics like the proverbial person who can't see the forest for the trees. You know, getting too involved in the details of a problem to stand back and look at the situation as a whole. In trying to hear the distinctions between tariki, or Other Power, and jiriki, or self power, I found some rays of light that some of you may find of interest.

In his lectures on Shin Buddhism as found in Buddha of Infinite Light (it's in our library), D. T. Suzuki explores the concepts of Other Power, a term originally coined by Honen and which forms a central part of Shinran's message to us. Shinran's interpretation of the 18th or Primal Vow teaches that self power, or our own egocentric efforts to reach the truth, must be abandoned and replaced with reliance upon Amida Buddha (Other Power). This can be confusing stuff. Even Suzuki acknowledges:

So attaining the truth is no easy task. It is no joke, not just talk to pass the time. It is really serious work. Shin, especially, is more difficult really to understand than other teachings of Buddhism. Although Shin [Buddhism] teachers say that it is the easiest way to attain Buddhahood, to my mind it is the most difficult way to attain Buddhahood.

Suzuki teaches once we give up self power, pride, and hakarai or contrivance, no effort is expended and self effort or self power is replaced by Other Power. Pride is replaced by humility.

However, it's still easy for me to focus on form over substance. Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828), a renowned Haiku poet, wrote:

We should do far better to put this vexing problem of salvation out of our minds altogether and place our reliance neither on faith (Shinjin) nor on personal virtue, but surrender completely to the will of the Buddha [Amida]. Let him do as he will with us—be it to carry us to heaven or to hell. Herein lies the secret. [Emphasis added]

I still found my reading about the essence of tariki and jiriki hard to pin down. Then, in my continuing correspondence with Rev. Greg Gibbs of the Portland Oregon Buddhist Temple, he shared with me the following:

Shinshu is funny in that it does have a very complex conceptual basis which can be quite fascinating in itself and yet it is quite simple in the daily living of it. Honen's little poem cuts right through all the worrying about tariki and jiriki. The poem was on the fence of a Jodo Shu temple in both Japanese and English, right where the walkover pedestrian bridge crosses 5th street just east of Karasuma in Kyoto, so I often saw it when I was just walking around, and always saw it when I went once a month to a Zen temple there to meditate.

The moon shines upon the whole world, Neglecting not even the smallest hamlet. However, its beauty is only appreciated By those who gaze upon it.

Wow! Here is Honen, Shinran's acknowledged mentor into the world of the Nembutsu, offering helpful advice. It says to me that oftentimes one needs to give up the academic texts, the immersion in vague and hard to grasp concepts, and just stand back and look. The poem's simplicity belies the power of its message. It says to me: The moon represents illumination, or in Buddhist terms, enlightenment, and it brings the light of the dharma to every sentient being, everywhere. One need only look up at that moon to appreciate it. That is tariki. Trying to study the meaning of the moon, its philosophical and soteriological implications, misses the point. Just look! It's there to see, by itself, and anyone who takes a moment to look can appreciate its beauty and mystery without a roadmap.

Namo amida butsu.

INDIA. One conjures visions of the Taj Mahal, exotic sari-clad ladies, gracefully lumbering elephants led by turbaned Indians, but more likely, one thinks of the thousands of poor, hungry people, dusty roads with rickety vehicles, and relatively poor living conditions for the majority. India, a country rich in history especially for Buddhists, is generally thought of as a poor country. So, when temple member Mrs. Alice Ikeda began to talk of spending three months there with her son Andy, one had to wonder what had possessed Alice to decide on such a difficult trip.

Andy, Alice and Stanley Ikeda’s youngest son, backpacked and traveled throughout India after being discharged from the Marines in Tokyo. He returned home and got a job, but before long he was talking of going back to India. He seemed to have had some sense of innerpeace while in India and wanted to go back. Alice had looked at the many travel brochures of India but there was no tour that covered all the points of interest to a follower of the Buddha. So as her son began to talk and make plans to go back to India, Alice began to think she might be able to go along with him. Since this was to be Andy’s third trip, he could help her walk the path that Buddha took. This was her chance! Once the decision was made, talk of the difficulties and hardships could not dissuade her. Alice got her 120 day travel visa and began work on her itinerary.

It is said that there are four places all devout Buddhists should visit: Lumbini where Buddha was born, Bodhgaya where he attained enlightenment, Sarnath where he delivered his first sermon in the Deer Park and set the Wheel of Dharma into motion, and Kusinagar (formerly Kusinara) where Buddha passed into Parinirvana. These four places, the caves of Ajanta and Ellora, and the stupas of Sanchi became the focal points of the trip.

Andy left Los Angeles April 8, 1981 for India, with the understanding to meet Alice in New Delhi in November.

On October 19, 1981 Alice and husband Stanley boarded a plane at LAX for a 20 day tour of China. There were 31 people in the group and they were given a grand tour. On November 8, Alice bid Stanley a fond farewell as he left Hong Kong to come home and she flew on to New Delhi. She wondered at the time if she would ever see Stanley again—who knew what could happen in the vast, strange country. After a four hour flight, the plane landed in New Delhi and much to Alice’s delight, Andy was there.

Most of the traveling was done on buses (not tour) or trains. It can be an ordeal because the seats can have holes in them and the ride becomes quite rough as the bus bounces along winding roads full of potholes. On several occasions Alice enjoyed the luxury of flying when Andy thought the overland trip would be too difficult.

A total of 45 cities was visited and each probably has a story of its own, but the following is Alice’s story of the major points of interest.

I first went north to Dharamsala where I missed seeing the refugee Dalai Lama from Tibet by a day. Then I went to Srinagar in the northern part of India for a week, staying on a houseboat. The snow-capped, majestic Himalayas on the distant horizon added to the sense of serenity of the area.

I flew to Varanasi and spent five days there walking along the Ganges, amazed at the incongruous sight. The Ganges at Varanasi is special to the Hindus—at daybreak one is supposed to bathe, watch the sun rise, and pray. During this procedure, a mouthful of water is used to rinse out the mouth and a bit of water is swallowed. Now the water here is certainly not pure—often green scum has to be pushed away to get a handful of water. We are told no one gets sick swallowing this water so the Gods are certainly looking after the Hindus. Next to bathing people are ladies doing their weekly washing—pounding and rinsing and spreading the clothes out on the ground to dry. Further along the bank are Burning Ghats. These are open crematoria.

Sarnath. In the peace and tranquility of the Deer Park I was filled with awe and gratitude with the thought that THIS was where Buddhism was set into motion.

Kusinagar. One sees the reclining Buddha’s picture many times, but when it is all there, actually in front of you, you can’t help but go down on your knees in gassho bidding Amida Buddha sayonara and reciting the Nembutsu. I placed the lighted incense down and spent the whole day there transfixed by the smiling face.

Lumbini was a surprise. We visualize Lumbini Garden as the flowered forest where Prince Siddhartha was born over 2500 years ago beneath one of the Sal trees. The land is barren now, and a temple and pillar are erected on the site of the Buddha’s birth. There is a large Bodhi tree beside the temple now in place of the Sal tree. To one side of the temple is a pool which is where the baby prince was given his first bath. Since this is the place of birth, I started to feel happy as I lighted a whole box of candles, reciting the Nembutsu. So full of joy, I almost sang “Happy Birthday.”

Bodhgaya. I had waited so long for this pilgrimage to Bodhgaya, I had to prepare myself; I felt as if I was to meet Buddha here. As I entered the grounds to the throne of enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, I was filled with such gratitude that all I could do was bow my head and gassho—the Nembutsu came from the bottom of my heart. I was drawn back again the next day—such joy and excitement filled me as I walked the grounds that my Lord Buddha walked. I was at peace in the embrace of the Buddha.

While in the northern part of India I decided to head toward Katmandu. I stayed in the peaceful city of Pokhara were the majestic, snow-capped Himalayas change color three times a day. Early in the morning it is silver, pure white during the day, and a gorgeous pink at sunset. This was a restful and rejuvenating stay. Patan and Katmandu were very interest­ing with many ancient palaces, Buddhist monuments, and Hindu temples.

Just before Christmas, I arrived in Calcutta. To my surprise the stores were decorated with ornaments and trees and one could hear the familiar “Silent Night,” “Jingle Bells,” etc. There were many Chinese restaurants so I enjoyed some good dinners for a change. In the Indian Museum one can see the urn which holds the Buddha’s relic.

Next stop was Puri, a fishing village with fine Hindu temples. We bargained with the fishermen to get some lobsters as the men brought in their catch of the day. We enjoyed steamed lobster with melted butter with three young Japanese tourists we met. It made a nice Christmas dinner with fruitcake bought in Calcutta and green tea bought in Los Angeles.

New Year’s Day 1982 in Madras is one I will never forget. I carried omochi bought in WLA to eat ozoni made with instant miso soup, daikon, and carrots. I also had some mochi with kinako which I had mixed with sugar and salt. After this feast Andy and I went to the city to make my plane reservation to Sri Lanka. As we got off the bus, something caught my eye. At first I thought it was a frog, but upon closer examination, it was a baby lying just off the curb. It was a premature baby girl with the umbilical cord and placenta still attached. She was about eight inches long and her hands were the size of a large cherry blossom. We stood there in utter shock—how cheap life was! We named her Baby Kamala and gently placed her in a box, covered it, and placed her in a shaded area. Our Nembutsu’s were the funeral service for her, and every New Year’s Day I will have a memorial service for her as I adopted her in my heart.

Then on to the southernmost tip of India, Kanya Kumari, where three oceans meet. The Bay of Bengal, Indian Ocean, and Arabian Sea meet and provide the setting for the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets. All this southern area, Trivandrum and Kovalam, is a resort area with beautiful beaches.

I flew to Colombo, capital of Sri Lanka. With the help of a hired car and driver, I was able to see this tropical island. In Kandy there is the temple Dalada Maligawa (Temple of Tooth) where Buddha’s tooth is enshrined. The Tooth Relic is said to have been brought here early in the 4th century hidden in the hair of an Indian princess. In Dambulla there are rock caves containing many statues and carvings, including a colossal recumbent Buddha cut out of solid rock and over 47 feet in length. Again in Polonnaruwa there are many ruins of temples and Buddhist carvings. In the heart of Annuradhapura stands the Bodhi tree grown from a sapling of the original tree under which Buddha attained enlightenment. There is also a giant stupa in which is enshrined Buddha’s collar bone. So a week flew by and I bid farewell to my driver who had been so nice—he treated me like his mother.

I flew to Bombay, met Andy, and went to see the caves of Ellora and Ajanta. These caves, 37 at Ellora and 28 at Ajanta, are carved out of solid rock hillsides, and the Buddhist caves date back to the 4th century. There are also Brahman, Jain, and Hindu caves. The paintings in the Ajanta caves are fairly well preserved because they have never seen the light of day and the air is so dry. Each cave is different from the next—each great and magnificent yet delicately sculptured.
Sanchi was the next city visited. It has the finest examples of Buddhist art and sculpture in India. The stupas here date back as early as the 3rd century BC.

The exotic, erotic carved temples of Khajuraho are an unbelievable work of art. Hundreds and thousands of erotic scenes carved out of stone form the outside surface from top to bottom.

My last stop in India was to see one of the seven wonders of the world—the Taj Mahal. This monument of love for his beautiful queen was completed in 1653 and built by the great Mughal ruler, Shah Jahan. It took 21 years to build. The huge white marble structure with hundreds of gemstone inlay is a wonder to behold in any setting, but especially in this land of so much poverty and hunger.

With mixed feelings I left India for a two week stay in Thailand. At the time I was looking forward to the luxury of sleeping in the comforts of my own bed, eating Japanese food again, not living out of my suitcase, and just being home. Now, crazy as it may sound, I would like to go back. There is still much to see in India.

RECOMMENDED READING
An End to Suffering
by Pankaj Mishra
Farrar, Strauss, & Giroux: 422 pp.

The January 9, 2005, issue of the Los Angeles Times Book Review Section featured a one-page review of this book. Parts of this article are taken from that review.

Mishra is a young Indian writer. To quote from the review,
“Westerners often have a hard time with Buddhism because it is an alien religion. For Mishra growing up in India, Buddhism seemed, on the contrary, strictly a Western import. He had no curiosity about it until he saw American and Europeans coming to India specifically to study it. Mishra’s interest deepened when he visited America and observed Buddhist practitioners devoting themselves to socially conscious endeavors. Still he wondered, what was he to Buddhism or Buddhism to him.”

This book then is about Mishra’s experience of gradually learning what Buddhism was to him. By the end of the book, he suggests “Buddhism might offer an antidote for the world’s malaise.”
Even for those of us who have some background in Buddhism, Mishra offers fresh insights. He writes about the life of Sakyamuni Buddha as he visits the places that were significant in his life, but in doing so he often adds interesting bits that we have not heard before. And rather than gaining his understanding through traditional methods like studying sutras or studying under Buddhist gurus, he takes a unique approach of studying the works of selected Western thinkers – Emerson, Thoreau, Nietzsche, etc. - who point him toward understanding what Buddhism could offer to individuals and to America.

The Taiko Group has activated ties among the various generations that we have in the Temple. From pre-teens to seniors, and for active and sometimes, anxious, drummers, Rev. Fumiaki Usuki has instilled a spirit that causes a bridging of generations.

The Obon Festival this year has been a fine focal point for bringing together the young and old. Sushi making found a few younger ladies helping their seniors in the fine art of rolling maki-zushi.

Rev. Usuki and Tosh Ishioka invited the community to join in helping this effort of bridging generations with participation from the local Nikkei community. The JIS community center, the local Y, the Hui Aikane group from Betsuin, and Scouts were another aspect of bridging the generations.

The Obon dancing on La Grange truly brought many of the young and old together to culminate in the joy of working together.

Another Temple activity that seeks to bring intergenerational goodwill has been the Gourmet Academy.  Thanks to Mrs. Torako Akutagawa and Mrs. Yoshiko Iwashita, several sessions of food-making demonstrations have brought enjoyment to some of our younger Temple members. But, we need to continue to cultivate the seniors to present their art of fine cooking. As Mary Hahn told me, her yomogi plant that was given to her after Mrs. Akutagawa’s mochi session is now thriving beautifully, and she wishes to learn more ways to use the plant as well as preparing some Japanese foods for New Year’s Day.
The Academy wishes to learn what food preparation activities Temple members can demonstrate to bridge the young with old. Ideas can be shared with Rev. Usuki.

These are some of the intergenerational activities that come to mind. Some will continue to flourish and enhance the joy of belonging to the Temple while others may languish. But, there is no doubt that more and different ideas should be shared to cultivate the spirit of bridging the generations.

At the end of each year, our Temple minister submits a list of members who passed away during the year to Nishi Hongwanji in Kyoto, Japan. Nishi Hongwanji is the mother temple for all of us Shin Buddhists worldwide. This list goes to the Otani Honbyo. Following are parts of an information sheet given to visitors about the rich history of Otani Honbyo.
“The Otani Honbyo, popularly known as Nishi Otani, is the Mausoleum dedicated to Shinran Shonin (1173-1263), the founder of the Shin Buddhist tradition (Jodo Shinshu) and one of the foremost figures in the history of Japanese religion…..”
“…..After Shinran's death in Kyoto at the age of 90, his descendants and disciples built a chapel dedicated to this memory at Otani, north of Maruyama Park in the eastern hills of Kyoto and gradually developed it into the Hongwanji temple. During the 15th century, the Hongwanji buildings were destroyed by monk-warriors from Mount Hiei, but in 1589, Toyotomi Hideyoshi provided for the preservation of the mausoleum at its original site, and in 1591 also donated a tract of land about 2 km west of here for the Hongwanji temple. In 1603, the mausoleum was moved south to its present location.”
“The Otani Mausoleum now occupies an area of nearly 20 acres including the cemetery behind.”
“Walking up from…..to reach the main gate ….. From here, the main hall (hondo or butsuden) dedicated to Amida Buddha can be seen slightly.

This comment reviews one aspect of a recent article by Rev. Jundo Gregory Gibbs (of the Oregon Buddhist Temple), entitled Existentializing and Radicalizing Shinran’s Vision by Repositioning it at the Center of Mahayana Tradition, as it appears in a wonderful book of essays, entitled Engaged Pure Land Buddhism, edited by Kenneth K. Tanaka and Eisho Nasu (1998 WisdomOcean Publications). Although this title is a bit off-putting to me, it hides a treasure of thought-provoking comments.

Rev. Gibbs has written many articles in the past twelve years about Shinjin that are informative and, to use his words, a “radical departure” from the view sometimes presented to us by the “Conservative Shinshu-gaku (the sectarian study of Jodo Shinshu as a separate field from Buddhist studies) ... namely ... the mistaken notion that Shinjin is rare.”

He writes that “Although it is best to treat Shinjin as an untranslated technical term, I have used the phrase ‘the encompassing heart and mind of true entrusting’ to convey what Shinjin is.” Some writers (and translators) use the word faith as synonymous with, and instead of, Shinjin. Others have criticized the use of faith in this way. From this writer’s viewpoint only, I have had much difficulty with the English word faith as substituting for the word Shinjin. For me, the word faith includes too much religious baggage (particularly from the Judeo-Christian tradition) to accurately convey what Shinran Shonin was talking about when he “recognized … Shinjin … as … the foundation of a new center of identity within ... the Pure Land tradition.”

Rev. Gibbs discusses the tension between the words faith and Shinjin in his monograph Understanding Shinran and the Burden of Traditional Dogmatics as it appeared in The Eastern Buddhist (New Series, Vol. XXX, No. 2, 1997). He says:

I find the argument of Ueda Yoshifumi and Dennis Hirota persuasive in rejecting such an approach. Their essential point is that shinjin cannot merely be faith because ‘shinjin refers fundamentally to the true and real mind of Amida, not an attitude of the mind of man.’

My insistence that this momentary recognition of the Nembutsu as Amida Buddha’s enacting of his promises is Shinjin will strike some conservative Jodo Shinshu Buddhists as arrogant. But if the experience of Shinjin is something too exalted to be identified with this quite accessible experience, the whole idea of Jodo Shinshu Buddhism being a path for common people is invalidated. [Emphasis added]

He adds, “The difficulty of its appearing vain to claim to have experienced Shinjin is resolved by remaining cognizant of the momentary nature of such experiences.”

As we all search for our own center, our own connection to what is true and real in this world, Rev. Gibbs emphasizes a new view of Shinjin, namely, that it is available to every one of us now, and it is available to all of us regard-less of any special knowledge or formal learning. He discusses the experience as a moment in time, however brief, in which something happens to those who have glimpsed the connection between themselves and Amida Buddha, who, to some writers, resides inside us all.

In a 1997 article entitled Shinjin as a Transfor- mation in Identity, Rev. Gibbs comments:

“Shinran Shonin clearly established Shinjin, the encompassing heart and mind of true reliance, as the cause of birth in Amida’s Pure Land. Shinjin and Nembutsu are taught by Shinran to be absolutely inseparable ...” and “... Shinran’s impact on Buddhist thought comes in large part from his articulation of Shinjin as the centerpiece of religiosity in Pure Land Buddhism.”

Where can any of us find our own experience of Shinjin? What will it feel like? Will we know it when we see it, or experience it? What if we’ve never encountered such a moment? Nothing can replace the Dharma or a good teacher. And although I found Rev. Gibbs’ article a difficult read (I worked my way through it many times before being able to appreciate the beauty of its teaching), I recommend it to us all as it seeks to illuminate an important aspect of Pure Land Buddhism that may spark a moment of clarity in this world of confusion.

From the January 2006 Edition of the WLABT Bulletin

In a previous issue of the Bulletin, it was announced that Tanomoshi terminated its operations officially on June 30, 2005. The Sunday Service on October 23, 2005 was dedicated to expressing the Temple’s deep appreciation to the Tanomoshi organization for its many, many years of dedicated efforts to raise capital for the development of this Temple. Their accomplishments are tremendous by any measure (see the reprinted article below). Representatives of Tanomoshi included; George Ozamoto, Ben Tabuchi, Mary Ozamoto, and Bob Matsumoto (Tanomoshi President). Lunch in the Social Hall followed the service.

(Reprinted from WLA Buddhist Temple 50th Anniversary Commemorative Album, 1950-2000)
WEST LOS ANGELES BUDDHIST CHURCH

TANOMOSHI Explained

Tanomoshi was organized before World War II by Kenzo Ikkanda, Hidenori Kishi, Ryuhei Sato, and Katsumi Yahata to assist temple members in their financial affairs.

After World War II, Hiroshi Naramura, Katsusuke Shirasawa, Tozo Yahata, Bob Iwamoto and Takeo Yabuta were the officers in charge of the Tanomoshi. George Ozamoto was requested to assist as an officer in 1949. They had the foresight to raise additional funds for Temple operation and to minimize membership fees. The Tanomoshi made contributions to various temple projects such as:

Sawtelle commercial building
Dormitory and minister’s residence construction
Purchase of Purdue properties
Social Hall construction
Hondo renovation
Structural reinforcement of Temple building after the Northridge earthquake
Scholarships
Resurfacing the parking lot
Purchase of cushioned folding chairs

The Tanomoshi also contributed toward the Temple’s general expenses during the years 1950 to 1980.

After many years of successful operation and contributions to the Temple, the original Tanomoshi decided to cease operating by 1984. However, since there was a strong need for the Tanomoshi felt by the community, Kay Okamoto, Hisashi Kojima and George Ozamoto decided to organize a new Tanomoshi on June 3, 1982 in anticipation of the termination of the original Tanomoshi, and became its first officers.

Kay Okamoto was the first chairman of the new Tanomoshi. He and his wife contributed many hours toward managing the Tanomoshi until Mrs. Okamoto’s illness. George Ozamoto then became chairman. He relinquished his position as an officer and chairman to Bob Matsumoto in January 1998. At the same time, Ben Tabuchi also became an officer. Sam Hada and George Ozamoto are the current advisors.

(Note: Since 2000, when this reprint was originally written, Tanomoshi continued to contribute to many Temple programs, including startup of Taiko. One major project underwritten by Tanomoshi was the installation of a computer-controlled audio-video system connecting the hondo to the Social Hall.)

I am taking the liberty with my rotation in the Wheel of Dharma to present a major phenomenon that has occurred concerning BCA youth in the last decade, and which is of growing concern to the BCA and its temples. At the BCA level, ministers, temple presidents, and delegates meet regularly to discuss the issues and business of our temples.  But you, the general membership, may not be aware of the concerns and efforts of these people.  Therefore, I am presenting one issue that may pique your interest.

BCA temples recently received “Let’s Do Something Now - Request from the Office of the Socho” which asks for the establishment of a Buddhist Education Program in each local temple to promote Buddhist Education as the foremost means by which to sustain the growth of the Sangha and to reach out to others.  Socho Ogui says, “Our temples cannot grow until we can adequately share the teachings with others.” As a ministerial advisor to the BCA Youth Advocacy Committee that was formed in 2000 “to begin planning and implementing methods of reaching out to, and advocating for, young adults and students within our temples and communities,” I cannot agree more with the Socho. “Others” includes not only newcomers, but also our own young people who have experienced the ever-widening communication gap involving language, culture, and religious education that our temples have manifested as they progressed through the generations here in America.

All of you know the chronic problems that plague the BCA such as an aging and declining membership, a ministerial shortage, and the need for more English-speaking ministers. Those of you who are in the smaller temples know this situation better than anyone. It is a constant battle to keep and sustain young members and find ways to keep them interested in Buddhism and have them return to the temple later in life.

In 1991, the WYBL - Western Young Buddhist League, consisting of high school and college level youths, numbered 697 members.  In 1992, that number dropped to 598, and by 1993, three Southern District Sr. YBA chapters had become inactive and Bay District did not have enough members to elect officers.  Today, only three districts are active with a handful of members, and some count both Sr. and Jr. YBA in the same organization. The Sr. YBA has all but disappeared with a 90 – 95% decrease in membership since 1991.  Where have our youth gone, and why?

I would like to think that whatever they are doing, they are contented, happy, and well.  Perhaps many are simply too busy to come back to the temple at this time in their lives, as many of us were.  On the other hand, it is not unusual for people of this age to actively wonder about the deeper questions of life, which is why so many campus religious youth groups are flourishing. Former young members who find themselves without a spiritual home may be interested in contacting our organization or opening our website to get information on current BCA youth activities and what YAC has to offer.

But the problem goes back further than the fact that temple life seems to end for many with graduation. Are they leaving with something of lasting substance and value that can only be acquired through participation at the temple?

One of the concerns regarding youth activities in the temple is that there is too much emphasis on “culture,” mainly Japanese American/Japanese culture and social events, and not enough emphasis on religious and spiritual aspects. This is ironic, given that religion is the unique and defining attribute that differentiates us from other cultural organizations. In essence, many of our temples have lost sight of their true reason for existing, due to the social and historical circumstances surrounding our members over the past century. While BCA temples were initially founded to serve devout Shin Buddhist immigrants, at the same time, they became social centers for the Nikkei. As such, the preservation of heritage and language also became important functions of the temple. Gradually, as fewer and fewer young people could understand Japanese, it became more and more difficult for them to understand the heartfelt Dharma messages that many of the ministers attempted to convey.

We have to look back to the Sansei generation to see where the real attrition started. Many of the Sansei who attended Dharma School have never returned. Others bring their own children back, but many do this more for socio-cultural reasons than for religious reasons. And herein lies the problem. If adults do not see the temple as a place to pursue their spiritual development, if they have not awakened to the merits of this valuable teaching themselves, then how can their children be expected to understand why the temple exists? Hence, the urgent need to focus on Buddhist education is meant not only for young people, but for members of all ages, and all of us are called upon to set the example. Only in this way can we solidify our foundation so that the young people of today and future generations will have temples where they can hear the teaching.

In this era of spiritual searching in America, it would be a shame if we did not make optimum use of the infrastructure that was so painstakingly established by our forebears. The interest in Buddhism in this country has been growing steadily for half a century, to the extent that it is now part of the popular consciousness.  A focus on religion would bring us into the mainstream where some are already beginning to see that people don’t have to be ethnic Japanese to embrace the Jodo Shinshu teaching. We owe it to our own children to make it accessible before they, too, grow up and look elsewhere for meaning.

It is simply overwhelming to contemplate the choices our children have today, with increased mobility and information.  As parents, we have tremendous concern for them both pragmatically and spiritually.  In the latter instance, we hope that our temples can serve our youth well in that important aspect of their development by providing adequate and appropriate teaching.

If we have learned anything from the past, we can be sure that all things change and nothing is guaranteed to last. But looking optimistically, there is great hope for us. We have come full circle back to viewing our temples as religious establishments meant to provide the sangha with a teaching that will carry us all through life. Therefore, rather than looking to social or cultural interests first, we should take our Socho’s lead and get back to Buddhist Education as the basis for our temple’s environment.

You can access the BCA Youth Advocacy Committee website to learn more about our efforts to address the needs and concern of our youth at www.bcayouth.org.

In Gassho.
Rev. Fumiaki Usuki
West LA Buddhist Temple

Obon is a Buddhist observance that was originally observed in Mahayana Buddhist countries, including China, Korea, Japan, and Vietnam.

Obon season is a time to express our gratitude to loved ones who have passed on before us. Without them, we would not be who we are today, due to the basic tenet of interdependence. We would not be where we are and we would not be able to do the things we do to enjoy life. Just think about the number of people involved in creating each of us. If we go back just thirty generations, we can calculate that there were over two billion parents, starting with our two parents, their four parents, and so on—and that’s just the physical part.

Since we’re all influenced by a countless number of beings, our interconnections, and therefore our debt of gratitude, is without bounds. Thus, temples hold an Obon memorial service to enable people to pay tribute to the departed. The service is usually held separately from the festival so that the sangha (Buddhist community) can participate in this solemn and respectful remembrance in quiet reflection.

The word “Obon” is the abbreviated name of the ancient Ullambana Sutra, whose Japanese pronunciation is Urabon. The sutra tells of the Buddhist monk, Maudgalyayana (Mokuren in Japanese) who offered food to the sangha in an effort to release his mother from her hellish torments. When she became liberated, her son is said to have danced for joy.

Obon Festival and Bon Odori

In Japan, Obon has been held since 657 CE. It is observed in July or August. A commonly held belief among people in Japan is that the disembodied spirits of the dead return to visit at this time of year. This belief is not supported by Jodo Shin Buddhists, who consider such a belief to be an unfounded superstition.

Most Japanese-American Buddhists belong to the Jodo Shinshu school (including the sangha of West LA Buddhist Temple), so it is important to understand the history and significance of our Obon Festival. It is not, as some mistakenly believe, to welcome back the spirits of the dead. Instead, it is a time of gratitude, giving, and joy in the Truth of Life. Hence, it is also known as Kangi-e, or the Gathering of Joy.

The celebration of joy first began simply with Bon odori, or dancing. It is unique to Japanese Buddhism and is thought to have evolved from the Nembutsu Odori of dancers who played instruments while chanting “Namo Amida Butsu”—I take refuge in Infnite Light and Life, Immeasurable Wisdom and Compassion— symbolized by Amida Buddha. Bon dancing was first taught in America at the San Francisco Buddhist Temple in 1931 and spread to other temples. The festival or carnival was added much later as a temple fundraising opportunity, since the dance became an annual tradition that drew such large crowds of participants and onlookers.

The dancing begins and ends with a short Buddhist reflection. Participants gather in rings around a yagura, a central raised platform, and dance to the accompaniment of singing and taiko drums. The folk dances usually tell stories of traditional occupations such as fishing and farming. Everyone is encouraged to join in with the seasoned dancers as they circle around the yagura, often wearing colorful yukata (summer kimono) or happi coats representing various area temples. It doesn’t matter whether you are Buddhist or not, whether you are new to Bon odori or whether you have “two left feet.” The important thing is to leave your ego behind and simply express your joy and gratitude for life through the dance.

Rev. Masao Kodani of Senshin Buddhist Temple points out that the memory of deceased loved ones should urge us to awaken to our deluded selves and live fully in Truth-Reality. Thus, Bon odori is a spiritual activity in which we “just dance, without fretting over how one looks, nor showing off one’s ability … dance just as you are with no conniving, no calculating, no image protecting or flaunting.” But, he points out, most of us would rather practice before we feel we’re ready to dance in front of others—in much the same way that we rehearse “really living” and only end up watching life go by. Just dance. Just BE, in every moment, and you will feel true fulfillment and pure, ego-less joy.

In the Southern California area, the sixteen Jodo Shinshu temples of the Buddhist Churches of America, including West LA Buddhist Temple, take turns holding Obon Festivals and Odori every weekend from mid- June to mid-August, making for a joyful summer of shared experiences. No wonder it is a major temple event.

We have been kindly asked to write a short piece about why we dance in the Obon Festival. There are many reasons.

First is the hospitality and graciousness of the temples in allowing us to participate. When my wife, Annie, suggested six years ago that anyone was welcome to attend West L.A. Buddhist Temple odori practices, my response was “go right ahead!” I’ve never been a dancer, a few foxtrot lessons when I was a kid notwithstanding.

Yet Annie talked me into joining a practice one evening, and I found the moves counter-intuitive, baffling to the point of frustration. Suffice to say that my patience was not exemplary. I quit. Annie persevered, though, and I gradually rejoined, eventually figuring out that “back right” meant “saluting” with my left hand, etc. Eureka!

In time, to my surprise, I came to love it to the point where we attend the Obon Odoris all over Southern California.

But this is not so much frivolity to us. We do not regard the event as a mere party, though we relish the festivity of it. We have learned about the history of Obon, the Ullambana Sutra, the traditions as they exist in Japan and United States, and the purpose of affirming life and acknowledging departed persons who have influenced us, whether positively or negatively.

Not long after we began attending Obon Festivals, we purchased the anniversary CD produced by Senshin Buddhist Temple, in order to read the lyrics to the songs, and understand a little about their histories. We also took advantage of a talk about Obon given in Little Tokyo by Rev. Mas Kodani, which we found very rewarding. Rev. Kodani’s well-known notions of “tada odore,” or “just dance,” were illuminating. The idea of reaching a point unfettered by ego, and just being in the moment, is one that we embraced long ago as a general approach to life (intellectually, if not always in practice.) Applying it to the dancing seemed natural.

So whether we are doing Tanko Bushi or Shiawase Samba or Hokkai no Abarembo, we are always mindful of those moments free of both embarrassment and showing off, the times when you “tada odore.” Such moments do not always happen, or even often, and when they do, they are fleeting. Over in the snap of a finger, as per Rev. Kodani’s metaphor. Yet they do, as he points out, put us “in the moment,” in the same “tada” existence as all the stuff of life.

But this is not to make too much of a complicated thing out of the proceedings. This is hardly a solemn, ascetic ritual, but rather, as the Jodo Shinshu term for Obon, Kangi-e, goes, “a gathering of joy.” We relish joining everyone in the great circle around the yagura, the symbolism of human cooperation is very moving, and we love the intoxicating colors of the yukatas, the brash taiko displays, the smoke from the chicken teriyaki, the cool kintoki. (We haven’t been brave enough to try the chili rice or spam musubi yet, though.)

While West L.A. is our “home” (which we recently formalized by joining the temple), we greatly enjoy visiting the other Obon Odoris and experiencing the varieties of observance and service. In particular, Senshin’s invitation to light oil-lamps in memory of others is very affecting (and the cold post-dance somen is refreshing!)

Of course, we also get a great kick out of the variety of dance styles on display: the robust, flamboyant and sometimes free-form stylings of some of the men; the economic grace of the ladies; the classical flourishes of some of the more serious students; the exuberance of the young people; the confused steps of the little kids. They are all beautiful.

In sum, we dance for many reasons, and for no reason at all (tada.) We feel privileged to be a part of Obon, and it is, without a doubt, the happiest time of year for us.

On October 7, 2006, the Los Angeles Times, in speaking about the incomprehensible tragedy in Pennsylvania when a “simple milkman” killed five little girls and wounded five more, quoted from Mennonite author Peter J. Dyck, a man revered in the Amish community:

“Forgiving is a serious business because it is basically for our own spiritual, emotional and physical benefit. We may or may not establish a new relationship with the person who injured us; that is not the heart of forgiveness. When we forgive, we finally stop hurting ourselves...”

Members of the Amish community echoed these same sentiments with surprising unanimity. Forgiveness (of the killer himself) is a way to stop our own suffering. I was also moved by the public invitation from one of the deceased girl’s parents who offered to accept the (deceased) killer’s wife into the Amish community to live as “one of us.”

I find the apparent similarities in belief between the Amish in Pennsylvania and our own Shin Buddhism remarkable. When I faced loss from the death of lifetime friends, and especially when experiencing life’s senseless catastrophes, I tried to move the focus of my anger (over the loss) to forgiveness. It may be that my conscious efforts to do so miss the mark. Isn’t it supposed to come without self-effort but rather from truly embracing the Nembutsu without seeking the goal, for example, of ending my own suffering? Yes. However, for me, the path is difficult. My best efforts may move me toward the knowledge that from genuine understanding of the Dharma I may begin to see the interconnectedness of all sentient beings. Maybe if I learn to stop consciously trying to make sense of such losses I will begin to move towards embracing the Amida Buddha in all of us and find relief from suffering.

As a young man in 1963, I wrote a poem following the senseless killings of four, young, African-American girls when the Alabama church in which they attended Sunday school was bombed by a white segregationist (injuring many others):

“...For like the clock’s two hands, which appear as one at midnight,

So too, are end and beginning entwined as One in time,

The old has passed; the new begun, and all of the new is but the sum of the old, and together, they make life’s story never-ending....”

Only when reading Peter Dyck’s comments did I reflect on my poem and understand what the Amish were saying to me. When we forgive, we finally stop our own suffering because we are all connected, we are all one. And if we are all linked together then the heinous acts of one man (or of nations) must truly belong to all of us. Are we not then, by forgiving others, actually forgiving ourselves? Or is it more precise to say we are then beginning to accept ourselves “just as we are?” Jinen.

Namoamidabutsu