ATTENDING A JAPANESE FUNERAL

(I have of course participated in Japanese funerals before, including that of my mother-in-law (MIL), at which I was one of the chief mourners. But this one, last weekend, was different in many ways, so I thought I would write about it.)

This was the first time I had attended a “household” funeral, purely as a guest with nothing to do. The deceased was my brother-in-law, father of three and grandfather of 6; he was a parishioner of a small local temple, Shinshu Buddhism. The officiating priest turned out to be an underclassman (by about 30 years) of mine, as he too had graduated from Otani University in Kyoto. Our family belongs to a sect close to this but not the same, so I had some surprises in the actual service.

Here is a list of some differences I noticed in the service since 25 years ago when the funeral of my MIL was held in our house.

1. Neighbors (from the block association) are not expected to attend the funeral any more, neither are they expected to pay their respects at the house (with the inevitable envelope of money). Of course this means there are no longer any long lists of who gave what money, or any gifts for guests, either at the wake (usually tea or sugar), or the funeral proper, (a large something or, more recently, a catalog from which you can choose your gift) and consequently no endless putting things into paper or plastic bags, which is done by underlings.  

2. The funeral is held, not in a funeral home but just in the living room, which is in fact the traditional way, as happened in the case of MIL’s funeral. There followed a period of funerals being held in funeral homes, which is being phased out now, at least in the countryside. Undertaker staff were, however, present.

3. I don’t know for sure, but I saw no neighbors cleaning or cooking(all while making remarks about the state of the house and the housekeeper i.e. me), neither was there lunch for faraway guests nor a big dinner (both homemade) provided for the entire block association on the evening of the funeral (by this time at my MIL’s funeral I was almost weeping with fatigue, but had to be one of the hosts of the dinner).

Otherwise, the funeral proceeded as usual, which meant lots of waiting – for the priest to arrive, for the cremation to be over, for boxed lunches to be served, etc. I have very little experience of just plain waiting, with nothing to do except fall asleep (or chat to family members I didn’t know well, and were far busier than I was). Reading a book to pass the time would have been frowned upon, but I did notice that no one batted an eye when people started scrolling on their phones during wait times.

Here is a brief blow-by-blow description.

Wake (evening before) was held at 6:30, a time frame which guaranteed a boxed lunch dinner for participants. The priest appeared and something with a 7-syllable beat was chanted, in very complicated rhythms that you pretty much had to have grown up with to be comfortable with. There was much candle-replacing and candle-lighting by the eldest son. All of this took place in the room with the family altar and there were about 18 people present.) then we could go home.

Funeral was set for 12:30 the following day, which guaranteed a boxed lunch, similar to the one of the night before, for participants. I assumed that I would be put to work doing various mundane jobs, such as washing teacups, as usual for younger women (I forgot that at age 70 I am no longer one of these), and had indeed brought an apron for the purpose, but they all said no, there were two daughters-in-law and a sister to do that work. But an even more excruciating fate awaited me – to be a guest and unable to move freely or take off the “Japanese smile” – no time off, in other words – all day. Women do have time off at these events, when they can relax in the kitchen, but this is denied to guests.

The priest came and there were other chants, and participants offered incense (in the style of the deceased’s sect, which was different from our sect and involved memorizing a whole new set of movements.)

My favorite part of the service was when the coffin was completely opened and flowers from the funeral arrangements were placed around the body. This is called “Saigo no wakare” (last chance to say goodbye) and the deceased looks very cute and comfortable in his bed of flowers.

After this the coffin was closed up again and carried to the temple next door, where it was placed in a black car, other members of the party riding in regular cars, for the short drive to the crematorium. The staff of this place then took over, the coffin being moved on a little electric cart to the “oven”, with pauses here and there for the priest to intone and the participants to pray (gassho). The chief mourner (the wife, elder sister of my husband) pushed the button for the burning to begin.

There was a long wait until the coffin and deceased were completely consumed by fire, then all participants gathered in a room to pick out bones that were left with chopsticks and put them in a container. I had seen this before, and done it, but this time I just watched. The final bone was part of the skull, which covered other bones in the container, which was then closed and wrapped in a white cloth to be taken back to the house. (I should mention that children, the youngest of whom was a grandchild about 3, took part in everything including placing flowers around the corpse and picking out the bones. This is normal.)

Then everyone went home and the ashes were placed on the family altar (there was another service with the priest when we got home). After more waiting, it was time for dinner, another boxed lunch considerably more high-quality than the others. The other “elderly” lady who couldn’t sit on the floor without discomfort had gone home, so I was the only guest sitting on a chair at the dinner table, plus I had been seated directly in front of a very cold blowing A/C unit with no chance of going anywhere else.

As a person who is busy doing things all day long, mostly household chores or projects, all this sitting waiting doing nothing was a nightmare for me. I “stuck out” all day anyway – because of being a foreigner who was also family. My clothes were not the regulation uniform (although I was careful to wear all black). One of the young people who had recently returned from Australia (but didn’t address a word to me on the subject) had dyed her hair pink, which she carefully covered

with a regulation Japanese-hair color wig for the duration of the funeral.

Finally, after dark my husband and I were allowed to drive the 1 hour home, and collapse in bed.

And there you have it – a Japanese funeral as seen from the outside/inside.