Why is April the Cruelest Month?
Rev. J.K. Hirano
April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
The Waste Land T.S. Eliot
I’m not really sure why I began this article with these particular lines. They are from one of the most famous poems in the English language, The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot. Yet, this is an article for May. Sometimes, I get these lines from some poetry or songs that run over and over in my mind and unless I write them down, they tend to dominate my thoughts, sometimes for days. I do like many of the poems and writings of T.S. Eliot, but it isn’t because I really understand them, because I don’t. I actually prefer poetry where the ideas the poet wishes to convey are thrown in my face.
For example, in a poem I read a few weeks ago for my dharma talk, I used Shakespeare’s Sonnet 73, it’s a poem about death and to not waste the time we have left in our life. I have found that both Japanese and English poems have a lot of imagery of death. Maybe because they are such old cultures, compared to America. Although Spain has a very old culture, Pablo Neruda has such wonderful love poems.
Sonnet 73
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin’d choirs, where late the sweet birds sang,
In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
As after senset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thous see’st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it has nourish’d by.
This though perceiv’st which makes they love more strong,
To love that well which though must leave ere long,
William Shakespeare
I believe that the best of poetry conveys feelings or emotions that are sometimes difficult to describe. I believe this is the same reason I began to study religion. There were always feelings that I held deep inside me that I couldn’t really explain or express, yet when I read about religion and spiritual affairs, a light bulb seemed to go off in my heart.
I really like poems about death and impermanence, they are my favorite types of poetry. Just as a lot of Buddhism is about these two ideas, death and impermanence. Maybe that is why I like poetry and studying Buddhism. Possibly my favorite of all is haiku by the Japanese poet Issa Kobayashi (June 15, 1763-January 5, 1828). He is considered one of the four great haiku masters along with Basho, Buson and Shiki. I think I like Issa the best because he was a devout Jodo Shinshu Buddhist and was ordained as a Jodo Shinshu priest. He was also married three times. I like him because I can relate to his life. My favorite poem is:
Tsuyu no yowa
tsuyu no yo nagara
sari nagara
This world of dew
Is a world of dew
And yet, and yet….
It is amazing how so much can be conveyed with so little. It feels that the Universe is contained in that last line, “And yet, and yet…”. I remember first learning about haiku in elementary school. It was to make up a haiku, which consisted of three lines, with the first line 5 syllables, the second with 7 and the third with 5. The English translation of this poem is not 5,7,5, but the Japanese version is.
In truth, I prefer my religion to also be fairly in your face. In Jodo Shinshu, although it can be analyzed and examined and can be extremely academic and scholarly, it is quite simple. “Just say the Nembutsu” nothing more, nothing less. Namo Amida Butsu is definitely in your face.
The month of May at our temples, consist of two holidays, which are quite contrary to one another. May 21 is Gotan E, Shinran Shonin’s birthday. During this holiday our temples also hold “Hatsu Mairi” or we call it infant presentation. This is the service when Sangha members bring their new babies to the temple to introduce them to the Sangha. It is a very happy occasion. The other is Memorial Day. Which was created to honor those who died in service to our country, specifically in wars. In reality, our Jodo Shinshu tradition has a separate holiday “Obon” which is our memorial day. I personally do not celebrate Memorial Day, but I know there are many who do. Therefore, the Minister’s Assistants at my temples take part in these services. However, the stark opposite of birth and death is an interesting synchronicity to contemplate. Which is very spiritual in an in-your-face sort of way.
In September, our Buddhist Churches of America (BCA) will be celebrating our 125 years since establishing our Jodo Shinshu temples in the mainland United States. I guess we are getting to a time when we may need to rethink many of our traditions and holidays. I want to close this month’s article with a poem from an American poet I really like, her name is Mary Oliver. It is one of my favorite poems about death. However, it doesn’t feel dark or heavy. To me it expresses the wonder of life and death. This poem is called “When Death Comes”
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn;
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse
to buy me, and snaps the purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox
when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,
I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering:
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?
And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it's over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it's over, I don't want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.
--Mary Oliver