Funeral

When I rushed out the door yesterday morning, little did I know that I would be attending a Buddhist funeral ceremony that evening and not be returning home until late. We found out on Monday that one of my colleagues, someone who has been extremely kind and supportive to me, lost his father on Monday. I wanted to attend the funeral and pay my respects to the family, but I was not sure when it would be. I found out during our morning staff meeting on Wednesday that it was the same day. It was pure luck that I was wearing a black suit, but I probably would not have worn black little tennis shoes had I realized I would be going to the event. Actually, I was stunned by how everyone was dressed at the ceremony and don't think it would have been appropriate if I was not foreign. The only funerals I have ever attended have been Christian ceremonies, so I was not sure what to expect going in, but the women were ALL wearing black suits with black heels white pearls and the men your standard black suit and tie. I was really the only exception. We arrived at the building early, and checked in. We needed to borrow yazu (Buddhist prayer beads - look like the ones the men in Greece & the Middle East use to relax and induce thought) and register our gift for the family (an envelope with money in it). Nozaki sensei gave about $50 between the two of us, which is apparently standard, and received a ticket for our thank you gift bag (for coming - worth about half the amount of the standard gift; in this case either cookies or a towel).
The room the ceremony was held in was quite large, maybe the size of a small Midwestern church. It also reminded me of a conference room, with the solid gray carpeting and hundreds of plastic, black chairs lined up in rows. The family greeted us as we walked in the door, with the four sons and their wives greeting guests. I followed Nozaki sensei’s lead and bowed to each brother as I walked by, stopping to give my condolences to Hayashi sensei. The family was seated on the right side and we sat with other teachers on the left.
The front of the room was crazy – unlike anything I have seen. The front wall was covered with a large, light blue screen with digital pictures of clouds floating across it. In front of that was a sort of shrine, honoring the deceased. A large portrait sat in the middle of golden alters, while large fruit baskets (probably reaching 4 feet high) sat on either side of the 'alter' as offerings. I was told the body was present, although I did not actually see it. Apparently, there is a ceremony on the afternoon following the funeral quite similar to a wake or viewing.
After everyone was seated, a short monk entered the room, walked down the central aisle and took his place at the front of the room. Before the screen and small shrine was a table with three sets of rock-decorations of a sort. The family walked around the table and we watched as they each moved the sand or rocks from the right to the left (with a pinch of the hand) three times, bowing to the portrait. Then the family formed a line at the end of the table as guests filed into lines to also pray, moving the rocks three times. I basically watched what everyone else did, followed Nozaki's lead, bowed to the family, and sat down. Meanwhile, the monk continued to chant an old form of Japanese prayer. When everyone had finished, the family gave a final prayer and commented. I was brought to tears by the eldest brothers' moving speech and found that this truly was a celebration of life, not a mourning of death (also indicated by the red and white colored balls of sugar we were given).
After the funeral last night, the teacher that drove me home asked me to come over. I thought she meant sometime, not right then (I was literally lost in [the] translation), so it was a surprise when I ended up at her house. She lives close to me, though, and we had fun. Got home late and checked my messages and email this morning before talking to Amy (we’re arranging her visit in May – I am so excited). Interesting, but moving day.