Pikatto

Funerals in Japan are far different affairs than funerals in the West. They are much more formal and follow a somewhat rigid ceremony with many rules and details. The Japanese funeral is actually three separate events, the tsuya or wake, the kokubetsushiki or funeral service, and the kasou or cremation of the deceased. Last spring I experienced the kokubetsushiki and the kasou portions of a Japanese funeral. I was able to learn many things from listening and observing carefully, and asking many questions. Here is an account of the funeral service and the cremation of the deceased as I experienced it. While many of the customs regarding the funeral ceremony are similar many customs vary widely. It is important to bear in mind that Buddhism in Japan is composed of many different sects. The sect of Buddhism practiced by the deceased and her family has great bearing on the final arrangements. Other factors that may affect the funeral customs are the region in which the funeral takes place, the age at which the deceased passed away, social status and the family’s economic status. The funeral I attended was located in Kyushu. I would describe the family’s economic and social standing as middle class. The family religion was Jodo Shu or Pure Land sect of Buddhism. With these details in mind, here is an account of a Japanese funeral as seen through foreign eyes. A very close friend’s mother passed away and although we had unfortunately never met I was asked to attend her funeral. It may sound cold-hearted and unfeeling but I thought that it would be a good experience to increase my knowledge and understanding of Japanese culture. In fact, this is what Akiko suggested when she called to ask me to attend. “Do you think I should come,” I asked somewhat hesitantly, since after all I had never met her mother. “Definitely,” she said.” It will be a good opportunity for you to see a Japanese funeral.” She sounded very determined about this. And it was her mother’s funeral, so who was I to argue with her. It was decided. I would attend the funeral. Akiko told me she would call me back later that evening with the details.

Birth and death are always an important aspect of any culture and I was intrigued about attending a funeral in a country, which has a centuries-old tradition of writing jisei no ku, or “the death poem.” I wondered what a funeral in such a country would be like. “How would death and mourning be treated? How would the bereaved mourn? What kind of ceremonies and rituals would take place?” These were some of the thoughts I had that evening, as I considered the coming funeral. However, without a doubt the thought with which I was most preoccupied the evening before the funeral was this. I knew next to nothing about Japanese funerals!

I knew that funerals were traditionally Buddhist affairs as opposed to the typical Shinto wedding ceremonies. Men were expected to wear a black suit, black tie, and a white dress shirt. Women were expected to wear a black dress, and a strand of pearls was the only type of jewelry permitted. The color red was forbidden because it is a celebratory color. The more traditional kimono has been replaced by western clothing in most funerals. This is especially true for men, although some Japanese women do still wear kimonos to funerals. To my surprise, I later learned that the traditional color of mourning is white not black. I also knew that attendees were expected to give a gift of money to the bereaved. Finally, I knew that after the body was cremated the close family would gather up the remaining bones, pass them from one person to another using chopsticks, and then place them in an urn.

I knew from past experience that at times like these the Japanese tend toward formality and ceremony. This knowledge combined with the little that I knew of what to expect at the funeral only made me even more nervous. I could feel my heartbeat steadily increasing its speed. Not knowing what would be expected of me was the worst, and I spent the rest of the night franticly researching Japanese funerals.

I started by asking Akiko a few questions when she called with the details for tomorrow. “My brother-in-law, Toru, and his family will pick you up tomorrow morning at 9:30. Is that okay,” she asked.” Sure, that’s fine,” I said. “I’m sorry that I can’t take you there or at least ride with you,” she said,” but I’m going to be really busy.” “Its okay. I understand.” I then asked her if I could ask a few questions about what to expect at the funeral and she said yes. “I ‘m supposed to give condolence money to someone aren’t I?” “Yes, there will be someone at a table. You can give her the money and also sign the registry.” “How much money should I give? 100,000 yen?” “No, that’s too much,” Akiko said sounding slightly shocked. “How about 5000 yen?” She agreed that would be adequate. I later learned that the amount given is governed by the relation of the visitor to the deceased or the deceased’s family. I also learned that this money has a specific name. It is called kouden or condolence money and originally it was offered to the family of the deceased as payment for the incense that funeral attendees would offer to the soul of the deceased. In modern times this money is intended to help the family pay for the funeral, which is generally very expensive. Kouden should also be made up of old bills, and if this is not possible one may fold the bills once, so they are bent in the middle. This is exactly opposite of the gift given at a wedding, which is composed of new bills. The reason for this, I have been told, is that old bills symbolize that the death, an unhappy event was unexpected whereas the new bills of a wedding gift suggest that the wedding, a joyous occasion has been expected and planned for. If someone were to give new bills at a funeral it could appear as if they had prepared for the funeral in advance. At any rate in both cases the age of the bills denotes that extra thought and effort has been made towards the bereaved or towards the bride and groom.

Akiko then gave me a brief overview of the ceremony, so I would know what to expect and what to do. We ended our conversation and it was then that I realized that I did not own a black tie. I was slightly panicked at first, but decided I would have time to run to a store and buy a tie before her in-laws came to pick me up tomorrow. Akiko forgot to tell me, but luckily I knew that the kouden should be placed inside a special envelope called �?�?儀袋(bushuugi bukuro). This is a special envelope with black and white wire wrapped around it and tied in an elaborate knot. Your name is written on the front and the amount enclosed is written on the back. The person accepting the kouden will record in a special ledger the attendee’s affiliation, name, and the amount enclosed. This information is important and helps the family of the deceased when they send out thank you cards and 香典返�?� (kouden gaeshi), a present given in return for the funeral offering, to the attendees. I spent the remainder of the evening repeating the phrase I would say to her family, “Kono tabi wa goshuushousama degozaimashita,” over and over to myself. Unfortunately, for many foreigners myself included, this phrase sounds quite similar to gochisousama deshita, the phrase one says after a meal. I was terribly worried that I would say the wrong one to her family and make the biggest faux pas imaginable! I drifted off to sleep that night muttering goshuushousama deshita over and over so much that I kept repeating it in my dreams.

I didn’t sleep well that night, probably due to worrying that I would make an embarrassing mistake the next day. Consequently, I overslept and was feeling quite rushed to get ready before my ride showed up. I quickly shaved, managing by some miracle to not cut myself too badly, and threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I grabbed my keys and wallet and headed for the door, pausing at the genkan to put on my shoes. Soon I was on my bike heading to the closest convenience store to get the envelope for the funeral money. I walked into the neighborhood Lawson and went to the office and school supplies section. I quickly found the bushuugi bukuro, but there were several different styles. I carefully looked at each one trying to determine which one was appropriate. I thought about calling Akiko and asking her, but decided against it. I finally chose on with white and black wire running over it tied in an elaborate knot. As I was walking down the aisle I noticed a pen designed for writing Japanese style calligraphy (shodou). I picked one up, thinking I would use it to write my name on the envelope. I approached the register, and thinking that it couldn’t hurt to ask, decided to ask the employee if I had the proper envelope. “Kore wa soushiki no fuutou desuka?” (Is this the envelope for a funeral?) I asked holding up the envelope so he could see it clearly. Silence, accompanied by a blank stare. I thought, “Perhaps, he didn’t hear me, or I mispronounced something.” So, I tried again and got the same results. I was beginning to get rather irritated. I was asking a rather simple question, and yet wasn’t getting an answer at all. Finally, realizing that I wasn’t getting anywhere, and was beginning to run out of time I gave up and purchased the envelope and the pen. I just hoped it was the right one.

With that out of the way, I still needed to get a tie. I headed over to Futata, a men’s clothing store, which was only about an eight-minute’s ride away. It was really a beautiful spring day, and even though I was feeling rushed I enjoyed the ride. I parked my bike in the parking lot and glanced at my watch. It was 9:15. I really needed to hurry. I quickly hurried to the door and reached out to open it. It didn’t open. I tried the other door. It was locked too. “That’s funny,” I thought, “most of the lights are turned off.” It was then that I finally noticed the hours of the store. The store didn’t open until ten o’clock. There was no way I could wait until the store opened. I glanced at my watch again. It was almost 9:20. I quickly ran through my increasingly dwindling options. I then noticed an employee in the store getting ready for the day’s business. Feeling rather desperate I knocked on the glass door quite loudly to get his attention and then gestured for him to come over. It must have been quite a site. Some crazy foreigner banging on the door and waving his arms madly! Luckily, he must have been accustomed to stranger sights, because he came over and opened a door. I quickly explained in very poor Japanese my desperate situation. He just listened calmly to my mad ranting, and when I had finished motioned me in. He led me directly to the black ties, and helped me pick one out. He then asked if that would be all, to which I responded yes. As we walked to the register I thanked him again and again. I thanked him again after I had paid and bowed quite deeply, before heading to the door. Outside, I bowed to him again as he was locking the door, and then ran to my bike.

“Thank God,” I thought. “This would have never happened in America. There’s no way someone would have opened the store early just for me!” Once again I was glad to be in Japan. I quickly rode home without any regard for my own safety. Managing to arrive home in one piece I checked my watch. It was 9:30, but my ride wasn’t there yet so I hurried up the stairs to my apartment and quickly changed clothes. I grabbed the envelope and pen and my keitai and headed downstairs. I looked at my watch. It was 9:45, and there was no sign of my ride. I was just getting ready to call Akiko when my keitai rang. It was Toru. He told me that they were running late, and that it would be another ten or fifteen minutes before they got here. I sat down on a bench in the little park across from my apartment under the cherry trees and enjoyed the lovely spring weather as I waited. They shortly arrived, and apologized for being late. I told them not to worry about it, and we left for the funeral parlor. We made polite conversation for a while and then I became lost in my own thoughts, thinking about the funeral service and what I needed to do and say. We stopped once at a convenience store on the way to the funeral parlor. I remained in the van with Toru’s mother. I nervously asked her where I should write my name on the bushuugi bukuro. She was impressed that I knew about that tradition and was quite helpful about explaining where I should write my name, which I then did. We soon arrived at the funeral parlor. Toru’s mother told him to take me over to the table to present the kouden. She then gave him several envelopes similar to the one I had. We gave the envelopes to the woman behind the table and signed our names in the registry book. Then Toru explained who I was to the woman collecting the kouden. She and most of the other funeral attendees loitering in the foyer seemed rather curious about me. As the only foreigner at the funeral I was unfortunately not very inconspicuous. We left the women at the collection table and walked back to where his mother was waiting.

I then saw Akiko walking over toward us. She said hello to Toru and his family and then asked how I was. She then spoke with Toru’s mother for a while. She turned to me and told me that Toru would be sitting with her sister, Yuri, and the other family members up front. She said I could sit with Koichi, Toru’s younger brother in the seats for funeral attendees. Soon after she explained the seating to me an elderly woman started rounding people up and shooing them inside the main room. I was growing rather nervous again and like a child in school tried to sit at the back of the room. The aforementioned elderly woman was too sharp to let that slip by, and she soon had the younger brother and I seated much nearer to the front than I would have chosen.

The seats reminded me very much of church pews. They looked quite nice, but were extremely hard with no cushioning. They were very, very uncomfortable. The room was divided in two by the pews, with approximately ten rows on either side. There was an open space just in front of the pews with three chairs set up in an open semi-circle. Just in front of those chairs and to the right was where the family of the deceased was sitting. Their chairs were positioned perpendicular to the pews of the attendees, facing in the direction of the open aisle. Akiko, Yuri and Toru, Akiko’s brother Shuichi, and an aunt and uncle were seated there.

In front of them was the alter, a bowl of powdered incense, a brazier to place the incense in, and a television monitor with a picture of my friend’s mother, Masako, on the screen. The alter was completely covered by flowers, mainly chrysanthemums, and fruit. The ihai (Buddhist mortuary tablet) was also on the alter. The ihai is a wooden tablet that is inscribed with the posthumous name, kaimyou, of the deceased. After the mourning period is finished the plain wooden ihai will be replaced with a black lacquered tablet. The kaimyou originated from an old tradition in which a person’s name was changed as their soul grew more enlightened. Those who became Buddhist monks, priests, or nuns often took on a new name. The new name represented a spiritual rebirth and a faith in Buddha. Directly in front of the monitor was the coffin. It was surrounded by many large floral arrangements. The entire room smelled of the combined fragrance of the flowers and the incense.

The three Buddhist priests soon took their place at the semi-circle of chairs at the front of the aisle with the head priest taking the center chair. They soon began to pray, and occasionally ring a prayer bowel-shaped bell or other religious instrument. At first I just enjoyed the beautiful sound of their chanting the Buddhist sutras, quite similar in sound to Gregorian chants. The priest’s voices were deep and rich and reverberated throughout the hall. However, as I listened more closely I was surprised to find that here and there I could actually understand their chanting.

At some point the head priest signaled the members of the family, who individually rose, bowed to the priest, went to the alter. Then they bowed to the deceased’s photograph, offered incense and prayed, bowed again and returned to their seats. After the family members had finished it was the attendee’s turn to offer incense and pray. I started watching the attendees carefully, trying to discern when it would be my turn to approach the family and the alter. I thought someone was calling out names, but wasn’t sure. The priests were continuing their chanting of the sutras, and it was difficult to hear.

Before I knew it Koichi lightly elbowed me in the ribs and jerked his head toward the aisle. I took the hint, got up and walked down the aisle my heart beating rapidly, and feeling very nervous. I bowed to the priests and then turned toward the family. I bowed and said, “Kono tabi wa goshuushousama degozaimashita.” To my surprise the words rolled off of my tongue as smooth as silk. I walked to the alter and bowed to the photo of Akiko’s mother on the television. I then took a pinch of incense and raised it up so that it was level with my eyes, and sprinkled it into the brazier. I then placed my hands together and silently said a short prayer and bowed again. I then returned to my seat and collapsed onto it, exhausted from nervous strain. The other attendees soon finished paying their respects and the priest continued more loudly and vigorously with their prayers, which lasted about five more minutes. After they finished the priests left the room and the attendees approached the coffin. The flowers were taken and placed inside the coffin. Inside there was also a white kimono, leggings, and sandals, and a white headband with a triangle on the center. This clothing is known as shinishouzoku (burial clothes) and closely resembles the traveling outfit worn in days past. Often money is included to pay for the toll across the River of the Three Hells. Burnable items such as cigarettes or candy that the deceased was fond of may also be placed inside the coffin. After the last viewing was finished and all of the flowers were placed inside the coffin was sealed.

I had retreated to the back of the room, feeling slightly out of place. Akiko approached me after the coffin was sealed. “Will you help carry her coffin?” “Of course,” I said, and headed toward the coffin. Toru, his younger brother, her uncle, and I helped carry the coffin to the hearse. I almost dropped my end of the coffin when I saw the hearse. It was absolutely amazing. If you can imagine a typical hearse with the top of the back half cut off and replaced with the golden façade of a Chinese temple then you will begin to have an idea of what a Japanese hearse looks like. It was very splendid, with the gold gleaming in the spring sun. All of the attendees gathered in a circle around the hearse. An uncle said a few words thanking everyone for coming, and numerous bows were exchanged. Finally the funeral service was over and the hearse left for the crematorium.

This was the first time I had ever been to a crematorium, so I really wasn’t sure what to expect. I was surprised by the size of the crematorium and the grounds it was on. The grounds were wide and open with plenty of parking spaces, but also expansive gardens with immaculately groomed lawns, flowers, and cherry trees just beginning to bloom. The grounds were all in all quite lovely.

Immediately upon arrival at the crematorium the coffin was unloaded from the hearse and placed on a sliding tray connected to the oven. We watched as the deceased slid into the crematorium. Everyone bowed as the coffin disappeared from view. An attendant then told the family at what time to return for the remains. The crematorium itself was rather large and spread out. The building had plenty of lounge areas with comfortable chairs for family members to wait in and wide halls for the children to run and play as children are want to do, even at inappropriate times. There were even traditional tatami rooms for the family’s use. Akiko unfortunately had to spend a lot of time in the tatami room pouring tea for distant relatives whom she didn’t really know and generally being incredibly polite to them, making small talk, and catering to their every whim.

After an hour or so of waiting we were informed that it was time to gather the remains. Akiko asked me if I would like to participate in gathering the remains by chopstick. This is usually done only by close family members. I considered it for a moment, and immediately rejected the idea when I saw the length of the chopsticks. They were made from bamboo, were about 18 to 20 inches long, and about as big around as your index finger. I was fairly talented in using chopsticks, but there was no way I was going to tempt fate and place myself in a position in which I could accidentally drop the remains. I politely told Akiko that I would be too nervous and declined. I instead stood and watched. The remains of the deceased slid back into view. The family members gathered around the “ceramic bed,” at the end of which was the urn for the remains. Each of the family members was given a pair of the aforementioned chopsticks to pick up the bones. The remains were passed from person to person by chopstick. Two persons grasped the same bone fragment together and placed it into the urn in unison. This is why it is terribly impolite to pass food from chopsticks to chopsticks, and you will never see it occur. The attendant pointed out the important pieces to pick up and put into the urn. I thought that all of the remains would be placed in the urn, as we do in western countries. In Japan however, only certain bones are placed in the urn. Generally the bones from and in the order of the legs, arms, hipbone, backbone, teeth, and skull are collected. The ash of the Adam’s apple is the last to be placed in the urn. Akiko and her aunt placed the remains of the Adam’s apple in the urn.

The urn was then covered with a white cloth and Akiko carried it, while her brother carried the ihai, and her sister carried the photograph outside. They and an uncle got into a car and were taken to a temple where a priest said a few more prayers. The rest of the family and I left the crematorium and went to a restaurant where Akiko, her brother, sister, and uncle joined us shortly. After several hours we were finished and the funeral was officially over.

For the most part I found the Japanese funeral to be an impressive and nicely done affair, especially from my view as an attendee. However, I was very upset for Akiko and the countless, pointless niceties she had to perform for distant relations whom she hardly knew. There was one elderly aunt in particular whom I would have liked to see on that tray in the crematorium. This leads to my one problem with the Japanese funeral. It seemed that the funeral was designed more to appease the spirit of the deceased than to comfort the bereaved. This when combined with much of the mindless social requirements Akiko had to undergo, with her own family, prevented her from being able to truly grieve and begin the healing process. Surely the dead have less need of comfort than the living. If they could make their wishes known surely they would rather that their loved ones were able to grieve and be comforted in such a difficult time without being constrained by social niceties.