“Travel has taught me the fun in having my cultural furniture rearranged and my ethnocentric self-assuredness walloped.” from Rick Steves, Travel as a Political Act

The journey was a long one for Kennon and me, both in time and in culture. It took 25 hours to travel from our home in Asheville, NC to our airport hotel close to Tokyo… and another 24 hours to get physically and culturally acclimated after we transitioned the next morning to our B&B in the center of the city.

The rhythms of Tokyo are paradoxical: the hustle-bustle as massive presses of people simultaneously converge from every direction; while, at the same time, there is an individual dignity of presence that prevails amidst seeming chaos as people pause to greet one another with a formal bow.

Amidst the rush to pack into or push out of a rail car— in the hurried focus on getting from one place to another— there exists a patient hospitality toward a lost and confused gaigin (foreigner), with people always willing to pause and help.  If I were to pick one word that defines the Japanese ethic from this gaijin’s point of view, it would be hospitality.

From Taro our host, to strangers on the street, police officers, store clerks, restaurant servers or ticket takers, somebody was always eager to guide us. Even without the ability to converse verbally, people would stay patiently with us until (through sign language, drawing of symbols or trying different words until one struck a cord) they understood what we needed and pointed us on our way.

Tokyo is a city of more than 12 million people, but it runs like clockwork and is immaculately clean, totally free of litter despite the fact that trashcans are scarce because of security concerns. Most street signs, all arrival notices in trains and subways, descriptions on almost anything of interest (as such museum exhibits and landmarks) include English translations.

The only homeless people we saw were gathered under a shelter that seemed to have been constructed for that purpose, and we encountered one protester. He politely approached us with the words “American military out of Okinawa… solidarity… peace, peace…” He asked us to sign a petition to the Japanese government, but I declined despite having sympathy for his cause because I couldn’t read the document.

My deepest learning grew out of our visits to Senso-Ji, the Asakusa Kannon Buddhist temple, and the Meiji-Jingu Shinto Shrine. Asakusa was the capital of Japan in 628, and the lore is that two fishermen sitting in their boat heard a command from heaven to cast their nets.

When they hauled the net in they found an extraordinary catch: the golden statue of Bodisattva (those motivated by compassion who seek the enlightenment of others rather than just for themselves). A Buddhist Temple was erected in the city, and (following a dictate from a dream) the statue put in a hidden place, forever out of human view.

Today, the entrance way to the Temple is marked by the Thunder Gate, with a huge paper lantern hanging from the cross bar and statues of the gods of thunder and wind guarding either side.

Charcoal burners filled with purifying offerings of incense smolder in front of the temple proper, and there are water cisterns for cleansing. Worshipers gather in front of what we might call an altar rail where they bow reverently, clap two or three times “to get the gods’ attention”, pray silently and then bow again.

A short boat ride down the Sumida River from the Temple takes us to Yoyogi, part of the extraordinary 175-acre forest that houses the Meiji-Jingu, a Shinto Shrine dedicated to the souls of Emperor Meiji and Empress Shoken. We strolled through the gardens and the forest, which are populated by 100,000 plants and shrubs and 365 varieties of trees… all native to the country and all donated by the people of Japan.

We walked down the avenue of gingko trees, across a stone bridge where we paused to watch koi cruising lazily beneath us, and followed a path that led to the Shrine. Several worshipers stood in prayer, separated from the main shrine by a small courtyard. Prayers were offered in the same manner as in the Buddhist Temple… a bow, handclaps, silence and another bow.

Shinto is an indigenous religion that remains almost exclusively Japanese. It is devoted to the god Kami, whose nature is manifested in rivers, mountains, animals, rocks, plants, trees… in all things. There is not a particular scripture or liturgy. Rather, its rituals are integrated into everyday life.

What I take from my visit to the Shrine and the Temple, two different traditions that (along with Confucian teaching) blend together in harmony, is that in Japan there is no dogmatic insistence on “one right way”. Instead there is a harmonious coming together in peaceful solidarity (as the protester suggested). Perhaps there is a valuable lesson here for those of us who follow a Christian path.

This week in Japan has made me aware of an exquisite balance between the busy noise of the hectic city, and deep inner peace… between the rush of Tokyo’s streets and train stations, and the quiet solitude of immaculately-trimmed and tended forests in the city’s center.

This will be the model for my journey as I move through environments and cultures that are foreign to me… as I navigate the push and shove of crowded sidewalks, waiting lines, various modes of travel and confusing directions in languages I don’t understand. I’ll send another postcard after visiting Kyoto and Hiroshima. Sayonara for now, Bill