J.K. Hirano
As for me, Shinran, I have never said the nembutsu even once for the repose of my departed father and mother. For all sentient beings, without exception have been our parents and brothers and sisters in the course of countless lives in many states of existence. On attaining Buddhahood after this present life, we can save everyone of them.
Tannisho: Chapter 5 CWS 664
I met my grandson Arrow for the first time a few days ago. Arrow is Katie my stepdaughter’s son. When Arrow was born, he looked a lot like Carmela. He is starting to look more Indian as he grows. When I saw the first pictures of him, I thought he looked just like Carmela. It was rather shocking how much he looked like Katie and Carmela, because Bala, his father is very dark and Carmela and Katie are very light. Since Bala is from India, his parents are to be called by the Hindi, Tata and Pati. Carmela is Lola, Tagalog for Grandma. Katie’s father is grandpa, since he is white, and I am to be called Jichan. I don’t feel like a Jichan. Now I can understand why my dad told my kids to call him grandpa and not Jichan. He said Jichan was his father. This family discussion about what we would be called as grandparents, made me think of my own family.
My Bachan (grandma) always told me that I was fulfilling my Jichan’s dreams by becoming a Kaikyoshi. My Jichan’s family were not from a temple family. In Japan, you were born into a temple family if you were to become a priest. My Jichan had many Kaikyoshi as friends. My Auntie Maxine Furubayashi had graduated from Kyoto Women’s college, which was the women’s University affiliated with Nishi Hongwanji, because of Jichan’s connections with Kaikyoshi. However, his family were landowners before World War II. I guess being a landowner was a thing, in Japan. His father had owned the land and contributed money for the building of a Higashi Hongwanji Temple, Enrakuji, next to the family home (Honke) in Kuwana City, Mie prefecture. I didn’t learn that my family were Samurai until I was 30 or 40. I had always known Jichan’s family had money, but I thought we were merchant class, the lowest class in the traditional Japanese class system. Samurai were at the top, followed by farmers and then the merchants. There was the Buraku min (untouchables), but that was rarely discussed. I was a bit disappointed when I found out we were Samurai. I had the romantic notion of Jichan coming to America, to move away from a system of class. “Power to the People!” My Uncle Dan told me my family was samurai, because his father had my family lineage investigated before he could marry my Auntie Jean, not very romantic at all.
When I was in elementary school, I would go to school with a small plastic bag filled with “surume” dried squid. I would eat it during recess and when my friends and classmates asked me what I was eating, I’d say, “It’s kind of like beef jerky.” If they ate it, I’d ask, “How was it?” They would usually say it was a little fishy. I’d laugh and tell them, “You just ate squid!” There would be a look of disgust on their faces, followed with spitting and trying to wipe their tongues. They would say, “How can you eat that?” I’d simply reply, “It’s a Japanese thing. We love it!” To be honest I didn’t really like it. It was just ok. It wasn’t until I went to school in Berkeley and Japan, when the bars I would go to, served it as snack “otsumami” with whiskey, sake or beer. I just took it to school for the shock value. I have heard some people say they were embarrassed about being Buddhist or Japanese American. I never felt that way. I think it was because of my father always telling me that I should be proud of who I am. I guess he knew we had come from Samurai.
We just celebrated Mother’s Day in May and Father’s Day is coming up. Whenever I think of my mom and dad, I regret not telling them when they were alive, how much I appreciate all they did for my sister Joni and me. We were a working-class family and I wonder how my dad was able to make ends meet. My Mom would joke, “Daddy’s just cheap.” But now that I am an old man, I realize how difficult it must have been for them. I never knew we were poor. I truly thought we were well off. At least compared to my neighborhood friends. My Dad worked two jobs as a sign painter. When I started Jr. High School my mom went to work as a seamstress. At least once a year, we would go on a family vacation. I usually got whatever I wanted for Christmas and birthdays. However, we didn’t go out to eat except on special occasions, like one of our birthdays. When it was my birthday, I always picked, “Bratten’s Sea Grotto” and ordered the sautéed scallops and clam chowder. I remember how bachan (grandma) would always order the cheapest thing on the menu, not even knowing what it was, just that it was cheap. I remember if she didn’t like it, she didn’t say anything, but my dad would usually just switch with her.
This was all in the sixties and early seventies. Thinking about it, that was only twenty to thirty years after World War II and the Korean War. When I was in Junior High, the Vietnam War was in full force. No wonder, there was so much Asian discrimination. In our current time, you hear about shootings at schools and Asian hate crimes. I was lucky that there weren’t that many guns back then. It was common to be called either “Jap”, “Chink” or “Gook”. Or kids would pull their eyes into slits and sing, “Ching, Chong, Chinaman, sitting on a fence, try to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.” I never worried about whether I would be shot. It was all just fighting with fists. If it was someone bigger than me, I would tell him to meet me in the field. That was a field about a block from school. You could fight there without the teachers breaking it up. If it was on the school grounds, you would usually get sent to the principal’s office and sometimes sent home. I must admit, I was suspended from elementary school and Jr. High School. By the time I got to High School, I had some tough friends and didn’t really fight that much. College was another story, but that’s for another time.
I wasn’t very smart, so when I would hear people saying, “Chink” or “Gook”, I figured they must not be talking to me or I’d say, “I’m Japanese, FOOL!” My Father was an interesting man. I have spoken or counseled many Asian American students and often heard about inferiority complexes, because of their parents. I had a “superiority” complex because of mine. It’s wonderful that the new generation of Asian Americans are much more articulate in expressing their pride in their heritage, but in the past, many Asian Americans I knew would talk about inferiority complexes. I don’t remember having any racial inferiority complex. I had inferiority complexes, about not being very smart and fat. But never concerning race. I can attribute my superiority complex to my father.
When I was a child, we never really discussed religion in our family. However, my dad always told me to be proud of being Japanese. As far as religion, he said our famiy was Buddhist, but I would have to decide that for myself. However, concerning being Japanese, he said we have thousands of years of rich tradition and culture. He would explain, “When you look at your white friends, (he didn’t say white, he would say hakujin, which literally means “white person”) most of them don’t know who they are. Most of them are a mix of possibly old European culture and tradition, but I bet they don’t know anything about that. They are just Americans or Mormons, and that isn’t even 200 years old (I’m old, these conversations were before 1976, the U.S. Bi-centennial.) Never be embarrassed to say you are a Japanese American.” He would tell me how my grandfather was from a very prominent family in Japan and Jichan’s family was not a poor family that needed to come to America for economic reasons, Jichan was well educated and cultured man. My father took very good care of his parents. It wasn’t what he said to them. I don’t remember him saying things like, “I love you mom and dad.” It was his attentiveness to their needs.
I love watching Japanese and Korean television. Although I speak some Japanese, I don’t know Korean, so the subtitles are always on. I don’t remember what program it was, but some Japanese and Koreans were talking about how Americans easily say, “I love you.” The Koreans say it occasionally. However, the Japanese very rarely if ever say “I love you.” They either say, “I like you or I really like you, “suki or daisuki”. There is a word for “I love you.” It is “aishiteru”. But in Japan, it’s a little to romantic or sentimental. When my father was dying, Carmela asked me, “Have you hugged your dad or told him you love him?” I said, “Of course not. We don’t do that.” She firmly said, “You better do it, before he dies, or you will regret it.” So, I went up to him and gave him a little hug. A few years after that, I asked my sister Joni, “Did you hug dad and say you love him before he died?” She said, “Noo, that’s gross, we don’t do that kind of thing.”
It's funny because I always tell my daughters, “I love you.” I’m not sure where that came from. Maybe it came from my mom. My mother was the touchy, feely type of person and always hugged and held our hands and told me she loved me. I remember telling her, “Mom don't do that.” My father never said it or hugged us. I think it was after I had a near death experience in Reno that my attitude changed. When I realized I was dying, my first thought was of my daughters and if they knew how much I loved them. Since then, I always tell them, I love you and yes, I also tell Carmela. I think saying “I love you” and “Namo Amida Butsu” are similar, I can never know what another person is really thinking, so if they tell me, “I love you.” I can’t really know if it is true or not. However, I know that when I say, “I love you.” I mean it. I can never know about the nembutsu of another. I can only know my own dark heart and how Amida Buddha’s compassion saves me.
In the quote I began with Shinran says he never said the Nembutsu for the sake of his mother or father. I bet you he never said “I love you” either. However, I’m sure he loved his mother and father very much. As I have said during Mother’s Day, I believe, Shakyamuni Buddha, Shinran and Rennyo Shonin all were searching for unconditional love, because of the loss of their mothers at a very young age. However, we have learned that Shakyamuni’s father became the Buddha’s disciple. It is conjectured that Shinran’s father may have become ordained and that is why he left Shinran. Rennyo’s father kicked his mother out of the house and married a more appropriate woman. I don’t think there would ever be a need for anyone to say the Nembutsu for the sake of their parents. The nembutsu is not an act or practice that you can bestow upon another. However, when I say the nembutsu, it is not for them, but because of my parents. If it were not for my jichan (grandfather), bachan (grandmother), dad and mom, I would doubt I would ever had encountered the Nembutsu. Why would they even need my nembutsu?!
The idea of saying the nembutsu for the sake of others, just does not make sense to me. I know I need to say the nembutsu for myself, but how do I know that others need or need not say it. As I wrote in last month’s article about my dog. Miso was my bodhisattvha. She taught me about life, death and love, and she was a far better sentient being than I. Both my father and mother were far better people than I am. It’s a little like saying I love you. I don’t think they need to say it. But I know I need to say it to those I love. I say the nembutsu, in gratitude for what I have received, which includes the love of my parents, grandparents and children. As Shinran says when he becomes Buddha he will save all beings. Therefore, all beings are the reason he is enabled to say, “Namo Amida Butsu.”
This Father’s Day as I remember my grandfathers and father. I will say “Namo Amida Butsu” because of them, not for them. I will say the Nembutsu in gratitude for the people past and present, who have allowed me to encounter this teaching. In the Tannisho, Shinran writes, “When I consider deeply the Vow of Amida Buddha, which arose out of five kalpas of profound thought, I realize that it was entirely for the sake of myself alone!” This foolish being Jerry Hirano is the recipient of countless acts throughout the Universe, just to let me know I am loved as I am. Maybe we all have reason for a bit of a superiority complex? Namo Amida Butsu.