Entering into another world

This is part of an ongoing series about the Shinto way of death, adapted with permission from an academic article by Elizabeth Kenney.  It shows how traditional Shinto arrangements differ from those of the Buddhist funeral.  Though the research was carried out in the 1990s and some of the information is dated, the fundamentals still apply.  For the original article, see Elizabeth Kenney ‘Shinto mortuary rites in contemporary Japan.’

Conclusion
The Shinto funerals of today’s Japan are part of a crowded religious landscape unimaginable to the Edo Shintôists who first created funeral Shinto. Buddhist funerals are the norm, and most Japanese people find comfort in the familiarity of Buddhist rites. But the dominant position of Buddhism in the funeral establishment inevitably inspires opposition in a few Japanese.

Buddhist graveyard with Shinto torii

Some of these people want to create a unique funeral that expresses their own vision of life and death.  A few others are no-nonsense consumers who want to save money. But for most people who have a Shinto funeral it expresses their religious, cultural or family identity more than anything else.

(After all, there is no need to turn to Shinto if one is primarily seeking to avoid Buddhism. “Non-religious” funerals are socially acceptable and increasingly common. They tend to be solemn affairs, with a director of ceremonies instead of a priest. Incense-offering may still be a part of these non-religious funerals.)

As this article has outlined, Shinto mortuary rites follow the course set by Buddhism: 1. preparation of the corpse; 2. wake; 3. funeral; 4. procession; 5. cremation or burial; 6. grave; 7. posthumous name and memorial tablet; 8. memorial rites.

All the same, it is important to remember that many of these funeral practices are not inherently Buddhist but Japanese: giving a last sip of water; washing and laying out the corpse; covering the kamidana; offering food; purification after the funeral; the mourning taboos; ancestor worship. In fact, the Buddhist funeral dictionary classifies all the activities just listed as “traditional customs”, not as Buddhist rites.

To the Buddhist (or popular religious) elements, the Shinto funerals add one remarkable rite: the transfer of the spirit of the deceased from the body to the memorial tablet. In other parts of the funeral process, Shinto actions or objects are substituted for Buddhist ones.

Through a series of functional substitutes (of which tamagushi for incense is the most noticeable), a set of distinct Shinto meanings is established. The ritual is in place, available to Shinto priests willing to perform it and lay people wanting it. Ritual questions are answered, but (and not only to the outsider’s eye) other sorts of questions — about impurity, the afterlife, and more — remain open to individual resolution.

The tamagushi offering remains a distinctive mark of Shinto

This is part of an ongoing series about the Shinto way of death, adapted with permission from an academic article by Elizabeth Kenney.  It shows how traditional Shinto arrangements differ from those of the Buddhist funeral.  Though the research was carried out in the 1990s and some of the information is dated, the fundamentals still apply.  For the original article, see Elizabeth Kenney ‘Shinto mortuary rites in contemporary Japan.’

Impurity
Shinto funerals embody a central tension: a profound aversion to the impurity of death juxtaposed with the necessity of close contact with the corpse. As Robert J. Smith writes, “At the most fundamental level, a Shinto funeral is a contradiction in terms. Shinto abhors pollution in any form — that being virtually its only tenet”.

Kamigamo Shrine, whose priests carry out some ten funerals a year

One way of resolving the contradiction is to redefine impurity. When I asked two priests at Kamigamo Shrine how they could perform funerals, given the Shinto aversion to impurity, they responded by saying that the spirit of the dead is not polluted. In the funeral, they are dealing with the spirit, not the body, of the deceased. As it happens, these priests offered the same explanation Meiji reformers produced to justify the Shinto-style funeral for the emperor: the Emperor’s tamashii is pure and is separate from his body.

According to the priests, Kamigamo Shrine performs about ten funerals a year. This is not a large number for one of the nation’s major shrines. These Kamigamo funerals are performed mostly for the “shrine households” that live near Kamigamo Shrine and have been recognized as prominent patrons of the shrine for generations. Although the priests claim that pollution does not complicate a Shinto funeral, most Japanese people instinctively feel that death and Shinto should be kept apart.

Not all Shinto priests agree with their Kamigamo colleagues. A priest at a small shrine in suburban Osaka refuses to perform Shinto funerals, despite the fact that they are authorized by the Jinja Honchô (the central governing body for most, but not all, Shinto shrines). This priest, well into his eighties, said that people ask him to perform a Shinto funeral three or four times a year, but he always refuses. The reason? “Death is the most impure (kegare) thing.” For him, the matter is clear: Shinto must remain pure, separate from death.

Shinto funerals are not carried out in shrines, but in Buddhist cemeteries and elsewhere

Unlike this old priest, most lay people and many other priests often seem uncomfortable with the very word kegare and offer counter interpretations. One Jinja Honchô official explains that it is not a question of impurity or pollution; it is just that a shrine is a place for festivals and prayers to the kami, so people who have had a death in their family do not feel it is appropriate to go to a shrine.

In a similar fashion, quite a few Japanese people I interviewed resisted the notion of kegare (even telling me that there had never been any such notion in Japan) and preferred the concept of “mourning”. To them, it is a question of grief, respect for the dead, and proper restraint. It may be that the word kegare carries uncomfortable connotations of discrimination or superstition for some modern Japanese people.

When all is said and done, we must see that the polluting power of the corpse is still powerfully felt in Japan. The fact that Shinto funerals are never held within a shrine is testament enough to the force of kegare. A quick look at attitudes toward crematoriums and hearses demonstrates that Japanese people continue to shun the corpse.

The Japanese funeral hearse looks like a gilded temple on wheels

When asked what would be their response to a crematorium being built near their house, 69% of the 1,220 college students polled said they would “oppose it” . It is significant that even among college students, who might be expected to express “modern” views (whether or not they actually subscribe to them), there is a strong desire to avoid close contact with death and its processes. Another indication of the expulsion of the corpse from society is the fact that neighborhoods actually do mount organized protest campaigns against the construction of crematoriums or even funeral halls.

The Japanese hearse is a gorgeous vehicle. An elaborately carved rectangular structure is mounted onto the back of a black car. The hearse looks like a moving temple, with a curved roof and curling golden dragons. Beautiful or not, hearses are not welcome in everyday life. One hearse company is now called K.R. Company. The name of the company was changed five years ago, from Kobe Reikyû Jidôsha (Kobe Hearse). The workers’ families entreated the manager to change the name. Surely this is evidence of a deep uneasiness about death pollution. It is also another example of the magical power of words: avoidance of the taboo word “hearse” offers protection against the negative force of death.

A few years ago, K.R. Company bought a large plot of land and planned to use it as a parking lot for the hearses. The neighbors’ opposition has been so united and effective that the company has not been able to use the land. Understandably, the directors of the company feel beleaguered, since the very neighbors who don’t want a hearse parking lot next door will hire a hearse when they have a death in their family.

Wouldn’t Americans or Europeans also oppose a crematorium in their neighborhood? Yes. I have no doubt that the corpse is, if anything, even more abhorrent in the West. But Western notions of death pollution are a topic for another paper.

This is part of an ongoing series about the Shinto way of death, adapted with permission from an academic article by Elizabeth Kenney.  It shows how traditional Shinto arrangements differ from those of the Buddhist funeral.  Though the research was carried out in the 1990s and some of the information is dated, the fundamentals still apply.  For the original article, see Elizabeth Kenney ‘Shinto mortuary rites in contemporary Japan.’

Illustrations of Shinto altars and grave taken from Elizabeth Kenney’s original article

Shinto cemetery (thanks to Keith Adams)

The Shinto grave and afterlife
Shinto shrines do not contain cemeteries and, in general, Shinto families do not use Buddhist temple graveyards. Therefore, most Shinto graves are located in public cemeteries or on private land (even in a family’s own backyard).

Typical Buddhist-style grave (for the poet Fujiwara no Teika)

Naturally, tombstone styles that seems “too Buddhist” are avoided (for example, the old-fashioned pagoda-style tombstone. It goes without saying that a Shinto tombstone will bear no Sanskrit letters and no Buddhist phrases (such as namu amida butsu or namu myô hô rengekyô). A modern Shinto tombstone is typically an obelisk. A similar rectangular structure is standard for new Buddhist graves, but with no taper toward the top. The difference is precisely that: difference, a subtle variation that signifies Shinto identity. There is nothing inherently Shintô-esque about the obelisk.

A Japanese tombstone typically has the words “the grave of X family” engraved on the front. In the case of a Shinto grave, the word haka is avoided — apparently, a taboo Buddhist word — and the term okutsuki is substituted.

As we have seen, incense is marked as Buddhist, so the Shinto grave does not have a stand for offering incense. Instead, there is sometimes a stone table in the same shape as the wooden table used for Shinto offerings during funerals. The Shinto grave may be encircled by a tama-gaki picket fence, a style of fence often seen at Shinto shrines.

Peering into the afterworld: according to folklore, this boulder in Shimane Prefecture separates our world from that of Yomi, or the dead

The afterlife
Shinto funerals now have a codified form, but there is no corresponding codification of the Shinto conception of what happens to the deceased. The Shinto establishment discusses the afterlife only in terms of the mythology, providing historical and scholarly perspective but not prescribing any eschatological views for its followers. Thus, notions of the afterlife remain diverse and more suited to anthropological than doctrinal investigation.

Buddhist-style grave for the kabuki dancer, Izumo no Okuni

As we have seen in the funeral, the Shinto dead become guardian kami of their household. This is a postmortem position granted to all the dead, regardless of their virtue or status in life. Beyond that, people are free to envision the afterlife in whatever terms and to whatever extent they wish. Most Shintôists, whether priest or lay, have only modest interest in the question of what happens after death.

One Shinto priest had this to say: “After death, the spirit becomes a bird and goes to the top of the house. Then it flies to a nearby tree and stays there for fifty days. After that, the bird-spirit goes to the land of the dead.” This is an unusually definite delineation of the postmortem destiny. It is clearly indebted to mythological themes.

For the most part, Shinto followers have no such definite visions and do not feel a need for them. The funeral ritual is important for a variety of other reasons: because it honors the dead, because it serves as a crucial expression of the family’s non- Buddhist identity or anti-Buddhist sentiments, but not because it is a key to the Shinto afterlife.

Bird-spirits migrate from the land of the living to the realm of the dead

Tenth-century ‘Engi shiki’

Taboo words
Japan has a long tradition of verbal taboos. For example, one Edo-period Shinto funeral text includes a list of seven taboo words that must not be uttered during a period of mourning. Buddhist words are avoided, and neutral or negative terms are substituted. For example, for the word “sûtra” substitute “dyed paper” (Buddhist sutras were written on paper than had been dyed yellow).

These seven taboo words are found in the Heian- period Engi-Shiki, where they are listed as taboos for imperial princesses consecrated to the Ise Shrine. In addition, the Engi-shiki gives seven other “outer” taboo words concerned with death (e.g., for “death” say “to get well”), and so forth.

Nowadays, the Japanese person who observes the Engi-shiki verbal taboos is rare indeed. But people who attend a Shinto funeral, whether as relatives or guests, should avoid a modern set of taboos words. As in the Heian period, the principle is clear: do not utter Buddhist words in a Shinto context. Few people will know the inauspicious utterances beforehand, but etiquette books provide guidance.

The Heisei (not Heian) taboo words include: jôbutsu (“to become a Buddha,” meaning “to die”), meifuku (“happiness in the afterlife”), meido (the afterlife), and ekô (“transfer of merit”).  Substitute words are kyusei  (“to pass away”), kiten  (“return to heaven” ), and takai (“the other world”).

A Buddhist funeral dictionary, addressing a readership of Buddhist priests, suggests that it would be impolite for a Buddhist priest to utter Buddhist words at a Shinto funeral but it is all right to chant nembutsu or daimoku under his breath.

Finally, the word sai is used for the rituals that comprise a Shinto funeral and for the funeral itself. In contrast, the Buddhist funeral is sôshiki. Sai, the same word as matsuri (“festival”), has a Shinto “feel” to it.

Japanese ritual occasions usually entail a gift of cash that has been enclosed in a ceremonial envelope. Etiquette books provide detailed guidelines on who should give how much to whom — and what to write on the envelope. It is taboo to use Buddhist language for the cash gift at a Shinto funeral. For a Buddhist wake or funeral, the guest should write on the envelope o-koden (“for incense”) and the bereaved family should write o-fuse (“donation”) on the envelope containing the payment to the priest. The Shinto substitute are tamagushi ryô (“tamagushi funds”) for the guest’s cash gift and o-harai-ryô (“purification funds”) for the payment to the Shinto priest.

courtesy quora.com

This is part of an ongoing series about the Shinto way of death, adapted with permission from an academic article by Elizabeth Kenney.  It shows how traditional Shinto arrangements differ from those of the Buddhist funeral.  Though the research was carried out in the 1990s and some of the information is dated, the fundamentals still apply.  For the original article, see Elizabeth Kenney ‘Shinto mortuary rites in contemporary Japan.’

****************

Posthumous names

Memorial tablets at Mt Haguro (courtesy orientalcaravan.com)

The Shinto dead, like their Buddhist colleagues, receive new names, but the Shinto postmortem sobriquet is not nearly as elaborate as the Buddhist kaimyô. In the Shinto case, the deceased keeps his ordinary name and a title is appended: mikoto or ushi no mikoto for men, and hime no mikoto or toji no mikoto for women. These terms sound like the appellations of Shinto deities and are meant to indicate that the deceased person has indeed become a kami.

The Shinto posthumous names are not only simpler than Buddhist kaimyô but cheaper. The Shinto name also has the practical advantage of preserving the name used in life, so there is no problem identifying the ancestors. To some Japanese people, the Buddhist posthumous name is an impenetrable string of expensive kanji that perpetuates status differences into the afterlife.

A book on how to produce one’s own funeral provides the following interesting example: “U-san, age 69, of Nagano Prefecture held a Shinto funeral for her husband. [She said,] ‘When my husband’s parents died, they received Buddhist kaimyô. However, my husband never really liked the kaimyo. He insisted that he didn’t need a kaimyô for himself, that he hated the smell of incense and so forth. So when he died, we had a Shinto funeral. In Shinto, there is no kaimyô, just a memorial tablet with your own name, saying So-and-so-no-mikoto “‘.

In the case of U-san and her husband, an antipathy toward Buddhism (the fact that the fragrance of incense repelled him is very telling) became crystallized in their rejection of the kaimyô. In this case, his parents’ kaimyô, which he didn’t like but had to live with until he died, came to symbolize Buddhist priests as domineering, insensitive, and greedy.

The Shinto funeral, in contrast, gave the family more control over their own posthumous destinies. For this family, Shinto, somewhat unexpectedly, was a liberating alternative, offering release from the grip of Buddhism.

Memorial tablets stand near a Shinto shrine on Mount Haguro ( Chris Rainier/CORBIS)

A mitamaya spirit shelf (see bottom of page for further explanation)

This is Part Ten of an ongoing series about the Shinto way of death, adapted with permission from an academic article by Elizabeth Kenney.  It shows how traditional Shinto arrangements differ from those of the Buddhist funeral.  Though the research was carried out in the 1990s and some of the information is dated, the fundamentals still apply.  For the original article, see Elizabeth Kenney ‘Shinto mortuary rites in contemporary Japan.’

Memorial rites
Shinto memorial observances are modeled on Buddhist memorial services. Buddhist memorial services are held every seven days after the death until the forty-ninth day (7 x 7).  According to Buddhist doctrine, a person spends forty-nine days in the intermediate existence before his next rebirth, so this transitional period is crucial.

According to popular understanding, it takes forty-nine days for the spirit to go the Pure Land (or to be reborn). During that interval, the spirit can benefit from the prayers and offerings of the living.
Some places in Japan count the day of the death itself as day number one, and other places do not. That is to say, if a death occurs on a Sunday, the seventh-day memorial service is held either on the next Saturday (six days later) or the next Sunday (seven days later), depending on the area.

Shinto rejects multiples of seven, since the Buddhist connotations are too strong. Instead, Shinto, using multiples of ten, and holds its rituals on the tenth, twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth and fiftieth days after death. (Notice that fifty ends up very close to the Buddhist forty-nine.)

The “epitaph” is described as a copper sheet or stone slab one shaku long (about 30 cm). Inscribed on the epitaph are the name and rank of the deceased and the dates of his birth and death. The single “epitaph” mentioned by Gorai (1992) is something different, for it reads like one of the Chinese land-purchasing contract for graves discussed in Anna Seidel’s “Post-mortem Immortality.” It seems that the Shinto dead need some identification and a brief curriculum vitae to take with them as they cross the border into a strange country.

The mourner’s staff is a widespread folk custom, and there is nothing specifically Shinto about it. In a Buddhist context, the staff is a pilgrim’s staff or a monk’s staff, which the deceased will use on his journey. In the folk tradition, the staff may represent fertility (phallic?) or generational continuity (which, after all, depends on fertility), or it may offer a kind of companionship to the deceased in his grave. Sometimes the staff is stuck straight up on top of the grave mound, making it a kind of lightning rod to attract the spirit or gods. The staff then also mimics the chopsticks stuck into the rice.

A Shinto graveyard in Kyoto Prefecture (courtesy Keith Adams)

In the Buddhist case, the next memorial service after the forty-ninth day is held on the hundredth day. Then, on the first anniversary of the death, another memorial service is held. Afterwards, anniversary rites are held in the following years: third, seventh, thirteenth, seventeenth, twenty-second, twenty-seventh, thirty-third, fiftieth, and hundredth. Each of these anniversaries is calculated by counting the year of the death as 1 , so that the “third” anniversary is two years after the death, and so on.

In Shinto, the tenth-day and following memorial services are often conducted in front of the grave. After one year, the memorial services are held in the house. Later, Shinto memorial services are held on the following anniversaries of the death: first, second (optional), third, fifth, tenth, twentieth, thirtieth, fiftieth, and hundredth.

After fifty days, the reiji is moved from its solitary position on the temporary altar to the household ancestral altar, where it joins the other ancestors. The spirit has passed through its liminal period, shed its pollution, and is ready to assume responsibilities as the family’s guardian deity. The house is purified and the paper is removed from the kamidana (spirit shelf) and ancestral altar. The family is now free from impurity and may worship at a shrine as usual. In practice, many families prefer to wait longer than fifty days before entering a shrine, often for one year.

Mitamaya, a place for enshrining the spirits of ancestors