Why do you think we hold Shotsuki services or any Buddhist memorial service? Are we doing these services for the benefit of deceased people?

No. We hold memorial services to express our appreciation for the people who have passed away, and we hold these services to receive lessons from them.

Therefore, we hold these services for our own benefit, not for the benefit of deceased people. Remembering and honoring people who have died are things we do for ourselves, not for them. For example, if you hold a memorial service for your mother, the service reminds you that your mother wished for your happiness.

Our temple’s name is Hongan-ji, which means true wish temple. Not only your mother, but there are countless numbers of mothers in this world and in history who wished that their children would be liberated from suffering. Not only the mothers, not only the fathers, not only family and friends think this way, but all human beings want to be liberated from suffering. And they also wish for others to be liberated. This is the meaning of Hongan, true wish.

One woman asked me to conduct a memorial service for her parents. She said to me, “Please chant so that my parents can go to the Pure Land so that they can rest peacefully.”

I told her, “You don’t have to worry about them. They are already in the Pure Land, where they have become Buddhas to you. Buddha means teacher, so you can still listen to them and learn from them. They may not be here in this world anymore and you cannot see them with your eyes physically, but if you remember them, you can meet them many times. Remember how they loved you, how they smiled at you, how they enjoyed being with you.

Your parents loved you. Being loved by somebody is a necessary experience in life. Your life is not only yours. Your life also belongs to the people who love you.

Last March, I had to plan a ministers’ retreat in Los Angeles, so I invited Rev. Hideo Okamoto to be the speaker. He is from Shimane prefecture in Japan. To be honest with you, it wasn’t my idea to invite him. A temple member had asked him to come.

Rev. Okamoto came to Los Angeles and he paid for the airfare and lodging by himself. We only paid a small honorarium “orei” for his lecture. I wanted to know what motivated him to pay his own way in order to come the America to talk about Buddhism.

Since I worked in the North America District Office in LA, I often had the opportunity to meet and talk to the lecturers. For our seminar, I asked Rev. Okamoto to speak about the people who influenced his Buddhist path. He spoke about his Buddhist teacher, his grandmother and his mother. I was impressed by all of his stories. I would like to tell you a little about his mother’s story.

Rev. Okamoto’s mother was not an enthusiastic Nembutsu follower. He thought about what made her happy and what kinds of situations she likes to be in. He realized that when she helped somebody, or when she did something for someone else, and if that person smiled at her, then she felt great pleasure.

For example, she was happy cooking food and giving it to others, especially if they appreciated it and told her, “This is delicious.” She was happy if she could help someone else be happy. I thought maybe this was the reason why Rev. Okamoto came to the US to talk to us. If we could enjoy his talk, and if he saw us enjoying the lecture, then he would be happy.

We are here now living, thinking about all the people who came before us. Please think of them as Buddhas. They are Buddhas who would be happy seeing us living our lives as fully as we can. This is the wish of a Buddha. This is Hongan. Sometimes we may feel alone in life, but through these Buddhist services, we are reminded that we are not alone. We are together with countless Buddhas.

What sounds remind you of summer? I think of children’s voices at swimming pools, music from an ice cream truck and crackling campfires. At our temple, I imagine Obon odori dance songs and a noisy bazaar crowd. Elsewhere in the world, nature makes its own sounds.

In Japan, people think of cicadas, also called “semi” in Japanese. They are big moth-like creatures that appear in August, which is usually the hottest month. They are not particularly cute, in fact, you may think they’re scary looking. Cicadas make a high-pitch buzzing noise mixed with a fast cricket-like clicking. They’re so loud that when dozens or even hundreds are perched in trees, they’d drown out a conversation.

Yet people think of these insects with great affection, depicting them in paintings, songs and poems. Buddhist teachers also like to speak of cicadas because they exemplify a great truth taught by the Buddha—impermanence.

Adult cicadas lay eggs, which hatch into a kind of larvae that burrows underground, where it will stay as long as 17 years. Only when the weather gets hot and the ground warms will the cicada rise from the ground and crawl up trees, where after a short time, it sprouts wings and is able to fly.

The now adult cicada begins to “sing” by vibrating its body, sometimes flying through the air and often resting in trees. Their sound can be overwhelming. You can hear them near farm fields, in forests and in cities. They seem to be everywhere.

However once above ground, cicadas only live for about four to five weeks. During that entire time, they seem to be singing at the top of their “voices.”

If we knew we only had a month to live, would we be able to sing so joyfully? Probably not. We’d frantically seek a medical cure, fret with worry, sink into depression, hide in fear, desperately pray, try to do something to change our situation or suddenly wonder about heaven or the Pure Land, thinking things will be better there. Meanwhile, time preciously slips away.

By contrast, cicadas seem unbothered by such worries and anxieties. Instead, they use whatever time they have to fully live, enjoy the summer and sing joyfully.

You may think, “Well, cicadas have such a short life, of course they must live as much as possible during that time. But humans live much longer. We have time to worry about those other things.”

Time is relative of course. At Calaveras Big Trees State Park, where we have our summer camping trip, there’s an old redwood tree that’s more than 1,200 years old. These giant redwood trees may be looking down at us, thinking, “Why aren’t these humans fully living and enjoying their lives? Their lifespan is so short. Why are they wasting time, fighting, worrying and chasing after unimportant things?”

With this kind of awareness, the poet Basho wrote this haiku 350 years ago:

Of an early death,

Showing no signs,

The cicada’s voice.

The cicadas’ singing also tells people that time is quickly passing, summer is coming to an end, the weather will soon cool and fall will be upon us. The cicadas seem to be saying, we’re all living in a world of impermanence.

The Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh once said: “If you suffer, it is not because things are impermanent. It is because you believe things are permanent. When a flower dies, you don't suffer much, because you understand that flowers are impermanent. But you cannot accept the impermanence of your beloved one, and you suffer deeply when she passes away. 
If you look deeply into impermanence, you will do your best to make her happy right now. Aware of impermanence, you become positive, loving and wise. Impermanence is good news. Without impermanence, nothing would be possible. With impermanence, every door is open for change. Impermanence is an instrument for our liberation.”

Listen to the sounds of summer. Come to our Obon dance and hear the music. Enjoy our summer bazaar. Enjoy the summer weather. Stop fretting, stop chasing after frivolous things, driven by selfish desires. Nothing lasts forever. Now is the time to figure out what’s precious and important. Live fully now.

When a person dies, many people don’t know what to do, having before never thought about it. In this regard, I’d like to clarify our Jodo Shinshu Buddhist traditions.

If a person is terminally ill or otherwise at the end of life, families typically contact their temple’s minister about the person’s condition. If possible, the minister will make a visit, but there is no “last rites” ritual.

Once a person passes away however, the minister performs a simple bedside service called “makurakyo.” Oftentimes, it’s impractical or impossible immediately to do a makurakyo, especially if the person is in a hospital, the hour is late and no family members are present. If so, a short service may take place the first opportunity family members meet.

The family then plans a funeral with the minister’s guidance. Depending on timing, the funeral may be followed by a seven day service. Nowadays, funerals often take place past the seven day period so it may be combined with the funeral.

Afterwards, there is a 49 day service, along with other services held on certain memorial date anniversaries, such as the first year, third year, seventh year, 13th, 17th, 25th, and 33rd year. Of course, it’s entirely up to the family how strictly they want to follow or ignore these traditions.

Instead of a service, I’ve seen instances where families held a “Celebration of Life” banquet in honor of the deceased, including pictures, toasts, and remembrances. I’ve also known cases where nothing was done at the deceased’s last request, leaving family and friends feeling a lack of closure.

Toasting to a recently deceased friend at a dinner is nice but from a Buddhist perspective, our worldview stays the same. We’ll go back to our daily lives without any deeper understanding of life and death. It’s a lost opportunity. Confronting a loved one’s death is perhaps the most painful experience we face. It’s a time when important questions slap us in the face, and it’s a time when answers lay within reach.

To clarify, memorial services aren’t conducted for the deceased’s benefit, to somehow send a person to the Pure Land. Rather, it’s a time to remember and honor a person, and also a way to express our appreciation. But there’s a bigger reason.

In Buddhism, any service is an opportunity to hear the Buddha dharma, or Buddhist teachings. We are asked to self reflect and deepen our understanding of life, encouraged by rituals and chanting, and by the dharma talks. Our everyday thinking is challenged. By shifting our perspective, we hope to gain a new way of seeing the world.

These services also help people feel a sense of connection with a person, help them deal with feelings of loss and loneliness, and help them find a sense of peace.

Many people hold funerals, 49 day services, and even one year services but the number of people holding a memorial afterwards drops drastically. Perhaps they’re busy, they forget or don’t think it’s important, which is unfortunate because I think memorials provide families with a strong spiritual foundation. Often, it’s the only time when family members come to the temple, and done over time, they at least periodically have a chance to listen to the dharma. In this way, they’re encouraged to reflect on their karmic connection to one another and feel a sense of appreciation for their lives.

Done over decades, it’s also a way for children and grandchildren to feel a sense of connection with their parents, grandparents, great grandparents and with the Buddhist teachings.

Many people, especially parents thinking about their children, wonder how they can cultivate a more spiritual life. Our memorial service tradition was handed down to us through countless generations for just that reason. It’s a path open to all, that is, if you choose to follow it.

In our world today, people are suffering from war, terrorism, intolerance, hunger, sickness and oppression. Many of them are fleeing their homes and countries. Likewise, even in our own cities, people face great hardships.

The Buddha once said, “See yourself in others.” As we tell kids in dharma school, “we all are links in the golden chain of life.” We are interconnected and ultimately One. But the Buddha also pointed out it’s hard to see beyond our selfish desires and self-centeredness, blocking our connection to each other.

Guess where I saw this Buddhist teaching nicely explained? In the Christian bible! It’s in the story of the “The Good Samaritan.”

To summarize, a lawyer asked Jesus how he could inherit eternal life. Jesus responded, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.”

The lawyer asked, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus responded by telling this parable: A man walking down from Jerusalem to Jericho was attacked by robbers, who took his possessions and clothes, beat him and left him to die.

A priest came by, saw the injured man, and continued walking. Another man did the same. A Samaritan, from a race hated by the Jews, saw the hurt man, poured oil and wine on his wounds, bandaged him, and took him by donkey to an inn. He gave the innkeeper money to care for the hurt man and said he would return to pay for any additional expenses.

Jesus asked who had been a neighbor. The lawyer answered the man who showed mercy. Jesus told him, “You go and do likewise.”

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., the civil rights leader, commented on the story and tried to think of reasons why the first two men didn’t stop to help. Perhaps they were in a hurry, or restricted from helping because of some religious law, he said.

Dr. King had driven down that same road and saw it was steep and treacherous. During the days of Jesus, it was known as “Bloody Pass.” Perhaps the men were afraid that robbers were still there, or that maybe the man was faking and was himself a robber. He imagined those two men asking themselves, “If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?”

Dr. King said the Samaritan came by and reversed the question, “If I don’t stop to help this man, what will happen to him?”

Flipping one’s perspective is a classic Buddhist technique that can teach us much about ourselves. For example, instead of looking outwardly to satisfy our desires, we are encouraged to look inwards at ourselves. Instead of directing our anger outwardly at other people, we are encouraged to see anger’s source within ourselves.

Many people, communities and even nations are confronting the same challenges posed by this parable. At the international level, countries are wondering if they should welcome refugees. Many of them wonder that if they did, “What will happen to us?” They fear terrorism, crime, overcrowding, and job loss. Consequently some of them shut their borders.

Many people in our world today are in need—the homeless, the poor, the sick, the elderly and all those less fortunate than us. We must ask ourselves, “If I don’t help, what will happen to them.”

Please try to think about and help others, not only during the holidays, but always. Namu Amida Butsu.

People these days say they like Buddhism because they think it’s more “lifestyle” or “philosophy,” than “religion.” After all, Buddhism offers insights that are logical, uses psychology and grounded in universal truths.

However Buddhism is a religion like other world religions in a way that may surprise you—it acknowledges a higher power greater than ourselves.

There’s a big distinction: this power is not personified as a god standing in judgment of mankind. It’s a power pervading the universe and part of you and me.

This power is what I believe elevates Buddhist teachings from concepts to dynamic spirituality. In Jodo Shinshu, it’s called “other power,” as opposed to our own “self-power.” Shinran Shonin wrote extensively about self-power and other power. Shinshu teacher Manshi Kiyozawa later called it “power beyond self.”

Self-power refers to our own efforts to live and control life. Most of the time, our lives are based on self-power. We believe our intelligence, how hard we work, the things we do, determine our success, failures and happiness. We build our lives on self-power. Thus we become obsessed with good schools, jobs, wealth, possessions, status and recognition.

Especially in America, we are a nation of achievers, stress hard work and believe in controlling life’s destiny. To the victor go the spoils. Why not? Certainly from this standpoint, life’s winners are the rich and privileged, who feel they deserve to be tops. In this equation, success equals happiness.

However, a closer look reveals major flaws—money doesn’t guarantee happiness, wealth doesn’t protect us from sickness, old age and death, many fail in pursuit of worldly success, inequality prevails and our desires seem endless. By contrast, some people possessing very little seem happiest.

Yet, we expend much of our lives chasing this elusive dream. Shinran called this conundrum living a life of self-power. For him, the fundamental problem is our belief in self-power.

This point I think confuses people because we are taught to believe in ourselves, to work hard and achieve success. Of course making a living requires tremendous effort and we must work at it. But we fret and worry constantly, trying to take control of life, facing setbacks and difficulties, struggling to arrive at a place that always seems beyond reach. According to Shinran, this situation is life’s great predicament.

Our belief in this sense of “self” is so hardened, it’s virtually impossible to break. This path we tread seems the best and only way until the point where it stops. That end-of-road place is a teetering spiritual cliff from where we might fall.

People stand at the cliff’s edge when facing a crisis—job loss, relationship breakup, sickness, a loved one’s death, aging, losing one’s physical abilities or confronting one’s mortality. This is a place where self-power no longer applies. The world where people thought they lived, where nice cars, money, status, and big houses mattered, suddenly shatters and disappears, a great shock causing confusion, paralysis, sadness and depression.

Jodo Shinshu teaches the problem’s root is our erroneous view of life, which is based on this sense of “self” as central and all-important. Consequently we wrongly judge our happiness based on how it affects this “self,” always taking a “selfish” view of life. Buddhism calls this view “ignorance.”

The true nature of life is a universe interconnected through innumerable causes, conditions and effects that ultimately represent great Oneness. It’s a universe in which we see our connection to trees, plants, animals, birds, rivers, forests, oceans, wind, rain, earth, sun, moon and stars. It’s a bond tying us together transcending time and space so we are never alone. Understanding this truth Buddhism calls “wisdom.”

Often we can’t truly see this great universe until our sense of self-power is broken by life’s travails. That’s why I think many people only after wrestling with sickness, after the devastating loss of a loved one, after growing old and frail, become more “religious.” With the Buddha’s guidance, their loss of control over life forces them to see just how the universe works.

Our lives ultimately are not the result of our own efforts. Life comes from a power, greater than ourselves. The Pure Land sutras call this power “Tathagatha,” described as “wondrous,” “mysterious” and “inconceivable.” With this understanding comes a great spiritual awakening in which people deeply appreciate the life they have been given. A great burdened lifts from their shoulders and they no longer struggle. Some describe this feeling as “letting go.”

Fear and worry dissipate. People feel grateful for their lives, whatever their circumstances, and they can live fully. Their joy is not based on material wealth, but arises from inner peace and a deep understanding of life.

After the deaths of his wife and son, suffering from illness himself, Rev. Kiyozawa described his awakening: “The power of Tathagata is limitless. The power of Tathagatha is unsurpassed…. It pervades everything and works freely, without hindrance. By committing myself to the wondrous power of Tathagatha, I have great peace and comfort… I have no fear.”