Over the weekend I had the unfortunate fortune of witnessing a Japanese funeral. As many people kept reminding me, it was a good experience, but not such a good thing to have happen. Generally foreigners would not get a chance to see a Japanese funeral. If it were a wedding or something, then foreigners might land a place on the guest list, but a funeral is not the most happy of occasions. Actually, the truth is that I have only attended one funeral America. Honestly, the general idea is not so different, but for the purpose of recording my memory, I shall try to describe the experience here.
The Japanese family system is traditionally slightly different from that in many Western countries. For example, it has been common practice for the eldest son to take over the father's work and become the official head of the family. Although the importance of the eldest son was reduced due to the postwar constitution, many families still operate on the same general terms. My host father, for example is continuing the work done by his father and his grandfather. Therefore he is the head of the whole household including himself and his family, his siblings' families, and the grandmother. Thus, his mother has been living in the same house with the rest of my host family. Well, she was hospitalized with cancer just before I came to Japan. I only visited her once in the hospital, but all of the family members had been spending time visiting her and taking care of those affairs. They said that she was feeling better lately, so I was a little surprised when I found out about her death.
She passed away early Thursday morning, and her body was taken to our house later that day. When I returned from school, the house was full of people I had never met before. I felt a little uncomfortable around all these people, as I do around any large group (whether I speak their language or not). Making things even more uncomfortable for me was the fact that the grandmother's body was laid out on a futon in the living room. There was a small alter-type table in front of her, and everyone was sitting in the dining room talking. I had not yet eaten dinner, so I wondered around considering what I should do.
I ate dinner in the room next door, but later I took my place in the group of close friends who remained in the dining room. There were about six guys who were all old friends of my host father. They were just talking about old times or nothing in particular. The general idea seemed to be to be good company for the grieving family. It seemed very effective to me. Everyone enjoyed himself (or herself-man English is a pain) and drank until around midnight.
The next day is generally reserved for visits from neighbors and close family. Sometimes they might have the wake the next day, but I think it depends on what sort of day it is according to some strange calendar (hey, I am still not an expert on this). Anyway, I spent most of the day serving green tea. It was pretty fun considering that 1) everyone was surprised to find a foreigner in the house, 2) everyone was surprised to have a foreigner serve them tea and 3) everyone was surprised to have a man serve them tea. At any rate, I met some nice people and got lots of practice explaining where LeRoy, Illinois is located. The director of the local community center (where the funeral ceremony would be held) came a few times to help with arrangements. We ordered out for lunch and everyone spent the whole day around the home, even though it was a Friday and we all had work or school.
That night, some more friends and family came to pass the time. Anytime anyone would come, they would enter the living room, light a stick of incense and say a little prayer for the grandmother. Some would lift the veil that covered grandmother's face to have a look. They would share some story about how grandmother used to be. I suppose that most of this is not so much different from the average custom in most countries. Anyway, so the time was passed until the wake.
Saturday was the day for the wake, but honestly I missed the beginning of that ceremony, so I am not sure how it went. I guess someone came to the house to make-up grandmother and place her in a casket. Then the family and friends carried her down the street to the community center type place. The closed casket was placed at the base of a stairway-like altar. A picture was placed on top, and everyone came to visit the family again. The stairway, I am told, is to symbolize the ascension into heaven. As far as I know there is no real heaven in traditional Buddhism, but Japanese people generally seem to believe in something similar to the Christian heaven. It is not so strange considering how Japanese people mix Shinto and Buddhism, while being basically atheist, but I digress.
The wake followed the same pattern as the rest of the activities. People came to pray and visit and reminisce. It is basically the same idea as the Catholic wake. People come to pass the last night with their loved one. My host sisters returned to the house at about 10pm, so I did as well. There was entertaining to be done there as well. My host parents and their close friends and family literally stayed awake the whole night long. They feel that they must keep the incense burning continuously from the time of the death until the funeral is finished. The symbolism is obvious.
Sunday was the day for the funeral ceremony and cremation. Many people gathered at the house in the morning and we all walked to the community center around 10:30. My host father had been telling all the visitors how he treats me just like his own son. Basically he does. They had included me in all the activities up to this point, but for the funeral itself, I didn't sit with the close family inside the open-fronted community center. Instead, I watched from the road with all the friends and relatives. There was basically a lot of praying led by a Buddhist priest. Then the visitors all made their way to the altar to pray individually. This altar was not directly in front of the casket because all the close family were sitting there. The altar was further out on the road (this is a small road-I hope you can picture all this), so it gave the effect that we were praying not only for grandmother, but also for the whole family.
When the ceremony was over, the casket was carried from the community center to the hearse waiting out front. For those of you who haven't seen a Buddhist (Japanese?) style hearse, it is quite interesting. This one happened to be a Lincoln Town Car with its original roof removed. In its place a huge Buddhist Temple-like roof covered the compartment for the casket. In principle, it is not so different from the hearses I have seen in America. Anyway, the rest of the guests hopped in three mini buses, and we all made our way to the crematorium.
I have been told that Japanese people used to bury a person's body just as we do in America, but for the last few hundred years they have been cremating people. I wonder if this is strictly a matter of lack of space or a change in religious belief. Anyway, the crematorium seemed to be running quite a business. It was much larger than I had imagined. It looked almost like a hospital from the outside. About three stories tall with two unloading zones like those found at an emergency room. Workers quickly wheeled the casket into its place in front of the burning chamber. Everyone gathered around to see as the casket was closed inside the chamber. The firing place (what do you call that) looked like an elevator really. There were two side-by-side, each with a little lighted indicator telling what family was currently using it. After the door was closed, we all prayed again, and then moved upstairs to the waiting rooms.
I didn't realize that it took so much time to cremate a person, but evidently it does. Anyway, we were all treated to beer and snacks while we awaited the next part of the ceremony. I passed the time talking to some family friends about discrimination in America. Incidentally, when I later asked them about the Burakumin in Japan, they told me it was taboo to talk about that in public.
After twenty minutes or so, we all return to the first floor to see the remains of the grandmother. It was pretty amazing how little is left after a good burning. I guess the casket and flowers literally go up in smoke so that all that is left is a few bones. These are the center of the next part of the ceremony. Starting with the family, pairs of people take turns transferring the bones into an urn. For this task, each pair takes a set of extra large chopsticks. Together they pick up one bone and place it in the urn. It is definite taboo to ever pick up a piece of food together in this manner. This action is reserved only for the cremation ceremony.
Many Japanese people don't like this ceremony of picking up the bones. I can see how hard it would be for the family. At the end, an expert comes over to explain about the last few bones to be transferred: bones from the neck and head (honestly, I couldn't tell one bone from the next, luckily). I think it is a good lesson for the people attending to see this final stage. I have heard that there are some people who just do not believe or understand that the person is gone after he or she has died. This ceremony, while difficult, really illustrates the beginning and end, or the mortality, of life. Incidentally, my host father said that this part of the ceremony was not the hardest. He said that when the casket was placed in the furnace, that was the end for him.
We are still not done, though. From here, everyone returned to the community center by the same buses. There, we were all treated to a lunch courtesy of the chief mourner and his family. It was their way of thanking all of the guests for their support throughout the ordeal. With this, one might think that we were finally done, however...
Some of the close friends returned to the home to socialize some more. Shortly thereafter a Buddhist priest came in with the urn and a bunch of flowers. He proceeded to set up all of this stuff as a huge altar right in our living room. Most Japanese homes have a Buddhist altar built in the wall of the living room, but this was more elaborate. We have the big flower pots making the stairway to heaven surrounding the urn. To top it off, there are these disco-style, psychedelic mood lights that sit on each side of the whole set-up. It is quite a sight. Next to the urn, sits a little plaque that tells the new name of grandmother. It includes one of the characters from her original name, but it is about a dozen Chinese characters long. I am not really sure the significance of this. I think really important people become gods when they die, so they are given a special name, but other people...
Later I found out that we would be keeping the urn at the home until a later ceremony when the bones would be placed in the family grave (there are no individual graves in Japan). That means that grandmother's soul will be with us for another forty-nine days. When we eat we are obliged to offer her some rice. When we sleep we should bid her goodnight. It is an interesting feeling. On the seven-day anniversary of her passing, a Buddhist priest will come and say some prayers for her. Each seven days marks the moving of the deceased person another step up the stairway to heaven. On the forty-ninth day, she will no longer be with us.
And so ends the unending story of grandmother's funeral. I can't say that I have described everything clearly, or correctly, but this has been my experience. My family told me to preface any book I might write, by saying that they may not be the normal family. In any case, there are also Christians, Jews, and Moslems in Japan, but generally, I would say that funerals follow this pattern of a Buddhist funeral. There are many details that I have left out, so if you would like to know anything more, always feel free to email me (n9650038@mn.waseda.ac.jp).