Seems like I should be able to come up with a catchy title, but I guess it doesn't really fit. Our church sister Utsuki-san--over 100 years old--passed away last week and we attended the funeral. This was my first experience for a complete funeral, and what an experience it was. I learned a lot and pray I can relate the details in a respectful way.
The first issue was clothing. Japanese wear a black dress with black hose and black tights to a funeral. Traditionally they wear this same outfit to weddings, so there are whole sections of department stores devoted to outfitting ladies in the proper way. The men wear a black suit with a black tie. Well, Akihiro thought I needed something better than the outfit I threw together--a black shirt, skirt, and jacket (and he's probably right--he usually is!), so we headed to the local department store. It is better to be prepared, because often a funeral will be within 2-3 days of the death. The gracious lady at the department store looked at my tall body and cocked her head--hmm. Then she pulled out the longest dress she could find and I tried it on. Well, it was the shortest dress I have ever worn, but it did look like it could be lengthened some. Could they do that for me? She went to check, explaining that they usually always have to shorten the length and the sleeves. Well, they could give me 1.5 cm in the dress and 3 cm in the jacket (it is all-season). So after a few trials, I found one suitable. Then Akihiro looked at my big black bag (not very sophisticated) and asked the lady about any manners I need to know about a purse. She explained how for a family member's funeral (if you are going to be official about it), you should have a black silk purse. So, we picked out the least expensive one. She also told me how to hold it--not on my shoulder--and put through my arm in just a certain way. Oh dear! I hoped I could manage all of this! So, we left with the stuff--will be back to lengthen everything next week.
So, Monday evening was the "visitation." I forget what they call it. Anyway, I (purse on my arm) cautiously approached the memorial hall where about 6 visitations were going on. We met the family--two of which are sisters in Tokyo church--Hiroko and Yoshiko. Then we entered the small room to view their mother's body. Almost the entire front of the room was a huge flower arrangement and the casket was almost buried in the beautiful flowers. There was a spot to go around the flowers and view her face which was the only thing of her that was showing. The rest was covered with white cloth. Then the service began. Andrew and Akito read scripture and prayed and we sang a few hymns. Willis finished with a moving prayer (or so I was told--can't understand much of it). Throughout the service, though, we could hear the chanting of the Buddhist priest and the ringing of bells and knocking of wooden sticks. The smell of incense made my nose tingle. I liked it when we would sing, because it would drown it out. Apparently, nobody except the priest can understand what he is saying. It seems unfortunate when we could experience and understand such a meaningful and comforting service--Christian style. After the service, the family and then the others went up to the front of the room where we were each given a pink carnation to place on a tray, said a short prayer, bowed to the family, and returned to our seat. Akihiro told me that this is instead of the Buddhist custom where they take incense up to the front. We sang while this process occurred. It was a very nice service.
Today, then, was the funeral. Again, black dress donned, we journeyed to the memorial home. As we walked to the room where our service was to be held, we walked by another service. The Buddhist priest wears a special robe with a pointy hat when he is doing the service--to tell you the truth, it seemed kinda scary. I was glad to go in to see our kind brothers and the flowers instead of an idol box. We sang and read the Bible and then we did the routine again with the carnations. Then they wheeled the casket out of the flowers and everyone could put lots of flowers inside the casket. A little great-grandaughter put a favorite CD and a letter inside. Then the men carried the casket to the vehicle--like a black station wagon--similar to the States. The Buddhist style funerals have a thing that looks like a temple on the back of a station wagon--it is something! Then this vehicle drives it a short ways to the crematorium part of the building. This is the part I had been warned about--and wisely so. There were many different groups there--more Buddhist priest chanting, etc. We sang a song and had a short prayer. There were several doors in the walls where the cremation was to take place. The uniformed men took off their hats and bowed to the casket and to the family and then opened the door and placed the casket inside, closed the door, and pushed a button to start it. We all stood very soberly watching. Then we went upstairs for some lunch. About an hour later, we returned to the crematorium and watched as the men removed the tray with only ashes and a few pieces of bones. Then we were all given long chopsticks and went in pairs to jointly pick up a piece of bone and put it in an urn. The men had saved out the largest pieces--the skull and jaw, and explained these parts to us, handling them with their bare hands! Then the urn was carefully wrapped and given to the family. We said goodbye to the family and headed home.
The whole thing was a very sobering event--to remember that our bodies return to ashes, but that if we are believers, our souls can live forever in heaven. Akihiro mentioned, too, that it is a blessing how we can openly demonstrate our faith--even alongside a different faith--and not be persecuted. I'm tired tonight, so maybe I will add more later--plus a few pictures.
