Tag: Coronavirus

Covid crisis

The following is adapted from a Japan Times article, which can be accessed here, written by Alex K.T. Martin and dated March 20, 2021. It shows how the crisis is hitting the revenue of both shrines and temples, and the need for new ways of raising revenue.

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In Japan, where there are more temples and shrines than convenience stores, the Covid situation is financially straining Buddhist and Shinto institutions that rely on donations from parishioners. Already burdened by a shrinking and aging population, the pandemic has prompted a reckoning among monks and priests about how to survive in a future where mass infections are a real threat.

“The virus is having a major impact on religious institutions in Japan, with ceremonies being curtailed and funeral rituals being simplified,” says Hidenori Ukai, a journalist and chief priest at Shogakuji temple in Kyoto. Ukai estimates that total revenue for Japan’s temples fell to around ¥270 billion in 2020 compared to ¥530 billion in 2015. If the pandemic continues, he says, the figure could decline further to ¥230 billion this year.

“At the same time, religion offers solace during uncertain times. Once the situation stabilizes, I think we will see worshippers return en masse,” he says. “In the meanwhile, there are new, unique initiatives being rolled out that are changing the way people worship.”

The slump in tourism and the rise of stay-at-home requests have also hit the coffers of the nation’s approximately 81,000 Shinto shrines that primarily rely on cash offering from visitors and ceremonial fees as sources of income. It has also prompted worshippers to seek out alternative means to pay their respect to institutions.

At Kashima Shrine in Kashima, Ibaraki Prefecture, priests have revived an ancient tradition for the first time in 90 years after parishioners asked the shrine to devise a way for them to offer prayers remotely.

Starting this year, a representative known as an oshi has been chosen to visit the shrine on the first of every month to pray on behalf of worshippers.

“The ritual is recorded on video and uploaded to a streaming platform for participants to watch,” says Tomonori Niikura, a spokesperson for the shrine. Those wishing to take part in the service can submit an application with monetary offerings starting at ¥7,000.

Kashima Shrine in Ibaraki Prefecture revived an old tradition for the first time in 90 years in which a representative known as oshi deliver prayers to the shrine on behalf of worshippers. | COURTESY OF KASHIMA SHRINE
Kashima Shrine in Ibaraki Prefecture revived an old tradition for the first time in 90 years in which a representative known as oshi deliver prayers to the shrine on behalf of worshippers. | COURTESY OF KASHIMA SHRINE

Tadashi Matsunobu, a director of the local tourism association whose ancestors were oshi, was selected to assume the role.

“My grandfather used to be an oshi until the early Showa Era (1926-89), when the practice disappeared,” he says. Oshi were essentially missionaries for the shrine that traveled to spread faith and deliver ofuda paper talismans to households.

“I gladly accepted the offer and have been trying my best to convey the wishes of parishioners to the gods,” he says.

With communal gatherings frowned upon, many shrines and temples have been devising ways to appeal to worshippers spending more time at their homes.

Tokyo’s Yasukuni Shrine, for example, accepts online applications for prayers and sells protective amulets and other goods — including face masks and even confectionery — on its website. Enzoji temple in Saitama began airing YouTube clips of comic rakugo raconteur performances and yoga lessons filmed at the temple.

Yumiko Waguri, chief editor of Wagense, a Buddhist quarterly magazine | HIROYUKI TAKAURA

Yumiko Waguri, the chief editor of “Wagense,” a Buddhist quarterly magazine, says the pandemic has seen temples and shrines finding new ways to meet the spiritual and emotional needs of people in the confines of their dwellings.

Her magazine has been featuring stories on how to appreciate Buddhist teachings at home while incorporating some of its practices in daily routines.“Sales of our magazine grew since we focused on the concept of ouchi (home),” she says.

An organization called Terakoya Buddha, for example, hosts online Zoom meetings everyday at 7 a.m. in which monks lead viewers through a 20-minute session involving meditation and mindfulness.

“Those who want to discuss specific issues can chat with the priests to seek advice,” Waguri says.

Meanwhile, temples in graying, rural communities are trying to help older, digitally unsure parishioners who are particularly vulnerable to COVID-19, she says.

“I know a temple in Shimane Prefecture that lends tablets to older households and offers to set them up so that people can join online services to avoid crowds,” she says.

And while technological innovations are bridging the social distance in an era of self-isolation, Waguri says traditional rituals associated with death are also being forced to change.

Tomonobu Narita, head priest of Zenryoji temple in Yokohama | HIROYUKI TAKAURA
Tomonobu Narita, head priest of Zenryoji temple in Yokohama | HIROYUKI TAKAURA
Zen priest Soo Iwayama launched a meditation service called Flying Monk that is available online. | COURTESY OF SOO IWAYAMA

The Plague

Cherry blossom viewing with social distancing
Ema on sale at Shirakumo Shrine in Kyoto

The Corona crisis has caused disruption around the world and dominated the global media. The effect has been drastic in terms of medical resources and made for grim viewing. In Japan the emergency has coincided with the flowering of cherry blossom, symbolic of life’s brief beauty. The mix of Covid-19, cherry blossom and Easter Sunday (tomorrow) inevitably bring to mind thoughts of death and rebirth.

Historically there has been a link between cherry blossom and the plague, perhaps because falling petals were suggestive of the many people falling ill or dying. In Kyoto the association is reinforced each year in a festival at Imamiya Jinja, in which appeasement is sought of a kami spreading disease.

In the Yasurai Festival performers dressed as demons (oni) dance around at the head of a procession of people in Heian robes. Red umbrellas are twirled around, said to bestow good health for a year on those who pass under them. (Red being the colour of blood is often used as a sign of vitality.)

This 5 min video features the Yasurai Festival in which red-haired demons put on a dance show to appease the kami of Imamiya Jinja in Kyoto.

Irony of ironies, the Yasurai Festival has had to be called off this year because of Covid-19. It is not the only casualty of the present crisis, for one of Kyoto’s Big Three Festivals has also had to be cancelled – the Aoi Matsuri in May. It too originated as an antidote to natural disaster, which very probably included pestilence.

The festival is claimed as one of the oldest in Japan, with its roots in the sixth century according to the Nihon shoki (720). It may have been that an epidemic had spread through the country at a time of famine and earthquake. The cause was identified by soothsayers as anger by the deities of the Kamo shrines (Kamigamo and Shimogamo), and in response the Emperor sent an envoy with offerings to appease the kami and pray for a bountiful harvest.

The Aoi Festival showcases the aristocratic robes of the Heian Period. Only those with high status get to ride on horseback

At first the festival was held sporadically whenever there was a major disaster, but with the establishment of Heian-kyo in 794 it became an annual event. At various times the practice ceased altogether, but was subsequently revived, the last such occasions being in 1885 when it was seen as a means of boosting Kyoto following the relocation of the emperor to Tokyo, and in 1953 after the festival was terminated during WW2.

But why is the festival named after the aoi plant? According to Wikipedia, “During the Heian Period, these leaves were once believed to protect against natural disasters such as earthquakes and thunder, and were often hung under the roofs of homes for protection.”

Aoi is often mistranslated as hollyhock, though it is from a different family and closer to wild ginger. The plant has become so rare in recent years that a substitute has had to be used, and the Kamo shrines are presently engaged in projects to replant it. (Look at the pictures below, and you’ll be able to spot a leaf pinned onto participants.)

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For a complete overview of Japan’s religious response to plague and pestilence, see this article in the Japan Times. To learn about Yasaka Jinja and the ties of Gozu Tenno and the Gion Festival with disease, see here.

Aoi plan with its characteristic leaf, symbol of the Kamo shrines
The costumes are colourful, and so are some of the festive decorations
A dapper looking horserider
The star of the festival is the imperial princess, represented by a young female in a twelve-layered kimono.
Arriving at Kamigamo Shrine, end point for the festival after its start from Gosho

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