A Japanese Funeral

On Sunday, I was finally asked to attend a funeral. I say “finally” because it seems to me that since we’ve lived here, a lot of people have died. It must be because many of the residents of this area are elderly, but I think there have been at least six deaths in the past 18 months. Two people in our officially designated neighborhood area died within the past year, but we were not asked to attend the wake. It’s common practice for all of the family, neighborhood, and people who might be related by their job to attend the services. Perhaps the head of the neighborhood just didn’t think it was necessary for us to be present. Regardless, last week the mother of a man who works with the educational department of Nishiokoppe passed away, and Mr. Kamaya asked me to attend.

There are usually two wake “services” spaced out over two days. I chose to go to the second one, which was Sunday morning. Mr. Kamaya gave me the appropriate gift envelope and suggested a gift of 3,000 yen. It’s customary for mourners to bring a monetary gift for the family. This gift, of course, needs to be in an appropriate envelope. The funerary envelope is black and silver, and this one had a small lotus flower on the front. This is different from a typical gift envelope, which has a red and black color scheme. Mr. Kamaya also reminded me to wear a black suit. Of course.

So, on Sunday morning, I slipped the money into the envelope, wrote my name on it as instructed, and drove to Kamiokoppe dressed in my black suit with a conservative white shirt. The wake was being held at the local community center, so I parked and made my way in. A table was arranged in the entrance to the community center. After removing my shoes, I followed the example of the man before me, approached the table, handed the person seated there my envelope, and I was given an envelope in return. Later, I opened it to find some sort of gift certificates. I think this is the return gift which is customarily given when the funerary gift is given. It’s complicated, isn’t it?

Even in the main entryway/hallway of the center, I could already smell the incense from the hall where the ceremony would take place. As I entered, feet bare of shoes or slippers, the smell intensified. The perfumed scent filled the air in the room, and I was greeted by the sight of about fifty people, clad entirely in black, seated in folding chairs awaiting the beginning of the ceremony. I slipped into an empty chair as unobtrusively as possible, just a little nervous. The room was almost completely silent. On the stage in front of us was the most beautifully arranged altar I have seen. I’m not sure if “altar” is the right word, but I’ll use it anyway. I would have loved to have taken a picture, but that was, of course, out of the question. I’ll just do my best to describe what I saw.

In the center of the stage was a series of steps, maybe seven or so. These steps were small, and designed to provide places for flowers, candles, and lights. They rose in small increments until they were about halfway to the ceiling of the stage. Each level of the altar was covered with flowers (mostly white mums and carnations), beautifully decorated lights, and candles. In the center step rested a framed 11x14 photo of the deceased. On the top step was a façade of a miniature shrine, intricately detailed with curves and scrollwork. On either side of the steps, still on the stage, were tall flower arrangements with large parchments planted in them. My guess is that the parchment, which had writing on it, was like the note we might place in a flower arrangement. On the edge of the stage, about waist high, were four boxes evenly spaced, each holding gravelly incense and a lit coal.

The ritual began at ten o’clock promptly. The first thing I heard was the sound of a bell being struck, and this was followed by the entrance to the two Buddhist priests. The first was very young, perhaps in his twenties, and the second was very old. Both were bald and dressed in robes. The younger priest was dressed in black, while the older one was wearing an orange robe with an elaborately brocaded cloth draped around him and over his shoulder. Once the priests were in front of the altar, they begin chanting in a low, monotone sing-song voice. The older priest seemed straight out of a Hollywood movie; his voice was deep and gravelly, and his chanting was hypnotic.

The initial chanting continued for about five minutes, after which a man rose and walked to a pre-arranged microphone. He spoke briefly, and then there was more chanting, accompanied by loud cymbal clanging and other noises. I think they make the noises to get the attention of the god(s). Again, a man rose, spoke, and was followed by another man who rose and went to the altar on the stage. Then, reading from a thick book, he read what I think might have been the names of the deceased’s ancestors. There was more chanting, low and monotone. While this round of chanting was happening, the apparent “M.C.” of the wake called out the names of the immediate family, then the less immediate family, and then finally the names of various important personages. When their names were called, they rose and went to stand, each of them, in front of one of the incense boxes. They sprinkled incense, bowed, and prayed for a moment before returning to their seats. When all the names were called, the rest of us rose and went, one by one, to the front of the room to sprinkle incense on the burning coal and bow to the altar. All of this was performed accompanied by the sound of the two priests chanting steadily.

The priests chanted different chants for a while once everyone was seated. I learned later that part of what they might have been doing was giving the deceased a new name, so that they might not come to the living whenever their name was called out. All I know for a fact is that they chanted and clanged and dinged bells for about another ten minutes. Once finished, they filed out of the room, and the MC rose to the mike. The immediate family was then called forward, where one of them read a written statement, and they thanked everyone for coming. At this point, if I had come to the previous wake the night before, I think things would have been done and I would have gone home. However, this was the final wake, and there was more work to be done.

In response to some signal I missed, everyone rose and some people went out of the room. The remaining people began to put away all the chairs, a task which was completed in mere minutes. Then, the casket was bought out from where it had been resting alongside the altar. The men placed it reverently on two stands, removed the brocaded covering, and the lid. I could not see inside the coffin, but I could tell they were unwrapping the body a bit, as there was plastic around it to protect it from the dry ice, I think. Since all bodies in Japan are cremated, they don’t do embalming. They just put the bodies on dry ice. Once the son was satisfied with the arrangement, the family began to dismantle some of the flower arrangements and they placed dozens of flower over her body and around her face. Other people moved some of the flowers out to the front of the building to prepare for the exit. Once the flowers were placed, the lid was put back on, and the window opening above her face was opened so you could see inside. Then, nails were placed in what I assume were pre-drilled holes. Someone opened a box with two rectangular cubes of marble or granite and passed them out. These were used by the family to ceremoniously nail the casket shut. Everyone seemed to take a turn nailing. Once the lid was firmly attached, the window was closed and the cloth was replaced. Then, the casket was lifted and taken out to a waiting van, preceded by family members carrying some of the decorations from the altar, including a grandson carrying the photograph ceremoniously.

Everyone then went outside to say good bye to the family, who repeated their thank yous. Some of the family loaded into the van with the casket, and others were given the option of riding to the crematorium on a small charted bus. Then they drove away to complete the ceremony – family only- at the crematorium. Apparently, tradition has it that the family would then witness the cremation, return at an appointed time, and then use chopsticks to remove the bones to place them into a jar or box. This is why it’s incredibly bad manners for people to pass each other something using chopsticks only – that’s what they do with the bones of the cremated body.

Having come from a country full of Christians, I have to say it was a very interesting thing to experience such a personal kind of ritual performed by another religion. It was a fascinating and moving morning for me. I think that in America, we have become very removed from our dead, but here, they were involved in every way, right down to nailing the casket shut. Quite a difference.