A Brief Talk on Buddhism

Welcome to today's Eitaikyō ceremony. Lately, as you watch the news on television, many of you must be troubled by the direction of society and the confusion in politics.

We suffer in this way because we feel anxiety about things that have not yet happened and end up thinking too much. In our desperate effort to protect our present life, we agonize over future turmoil that has not even occurred; moreover, we are swayed by the question of "who said it?", and it becomes hard to know what is true.

That is why Shakyamuni Buddha placed greater weight on "what was said?" than on "who is saying it?". If there is a place where we, who usually find it difficult to be honest, can become honest, it is before the deceased. For the departed have left behind every title they held in life and have become Buddhas.

What the deceased teach us through their own lives is the fact that "human life has limits and nothing goes exactly as we wish," and the warm truth that "even so, we are alive and upheld by countless things that support one another." We call Buddha the one who, even after death, continues to heal our vague anxiety.

Eitaikyō is a ceremony in which, through those who have passed away, we meet again the unchanging teachings of Amida Buddha. I hope that this time of prayer here today may be an opportunity to rest a little the "overthinking" in our heads and to entrust ourselves to the great compassion of Buddha that reaches us through our ancestors. Welcome today.

Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to our Higan ceremony. At this time of year, the yellow blossoms of the ipê trees begin to bloom and we feel the arrival of spring. Although we still have somewhat chilly days, since ancient times Higan has been a special occasion when we visit the temple, sensing the renewal of the season and remembering our departed loved ones with affection. Today, we also solemnly read the names of deceased family members that each of you brought in your hearts and memorial records.

In daily life, we tend to think of ourselves as upright people who work honestly, respect the rules, and harm no one.

Yet how do we react when things do not go as planned? Faced with a small inconvenience, a bout of poor health, or a disagreement at work or in human relationships, our hearts quickly fill with complaints and discontent. We soon begin to think that we are not at fault and judge others in our minds.

We believe we live in peace because we are prudent and of good character. But the truth is different. We simply have not yet encountered an extreme situation that would shake our daily life to its foundations. If the circumstances or the environment in which we live shift even slightly, any one of us can lose composure and become someone who hurts others.

The peace we enjoy today—to the point that we can complain about small things—is in fact a great privilege and not the fruit of our own strength. It exists because our parents, ancestors, and loved ones whose names we read today faced immense hardships to build and leave us the foundation of life upon which we stand.

When we recognize this reality, the illusion that we are entirely correct collapses. We realize that daily meals, work, and life with family were never obvious matters, but precious gifts handed to us by those who departed before us.

Human beings are fragile; depending on conditions, the heart can harden and judge others with ease. Precisely because we are like this, Amida Buddha extends a hand and declares that we will never be abandoned. And those who have already passed on, now as Buddhas, also embrace us and illuminate our steps from that same great compassion.

Higan is the time to set aside the pride of our own righteousness and, with deep gratitude to those who came before, return to the awareness that we are sustained by this vast life.

Keeping in our hearts the memory of our loved ones and gratitude for the peace we have received, let us return quietly to our daily work and to life with our families.

Throughout the world, ceremonies are held in which the living remember those who have passed away. In Japanese culture, the Obon service is also one of these moments of affection and remembrance.

Obon began with the story of a devoted practitioner who remembered his deceased mother with deep gratitude. Today, we decorate this temple with many lanterns to perform this service in her memory. In modern society, the fundamental meaning of these ceremonies is often forgotten. Yet the fact that we are gathered here today, raising these lanterns, has a very clear and profound reason.

Today, I would like to speak about the word we use to say farewell. In Japanese, the parting greeting is SAYOUNARA. Every language in the world has words for saying goodbye. However, the origin of the word Sayounara carries a very special meaning.

In ancient times, when Japanese people met, conversed, and completed what needed to be done, at the end they would say: "If that is so, since everything that should be done has been completed, I shall take my leave from here." The phrase "If that is so" (Souiu-kotode-arunara-ba) gradually shortened and became the word Sayounara.

This word reveals the fundamental attitude of human beings toward life. We are born into this world with a purpose and tasks to fulfill. And when we completely fulfill that purpose, we depart this life in peace. This is the deep view of life at the foundation of Japanese culture.

Regarding Obon lanterns, it is sometimes said that we light them so that the spirits of the deceased will not lose their way when returning home. But the true meaning is different. Our ancestors and departed loved ones fulfilled their purpose and mission in this life and went directly to their next destination: the Pure Land. They are not lost anywhere. And they continue to accompany us with great affection at every moment.

We hang lanterns on the ceiling of our temple bearing the names of our loved ones precisely to confirm this truth. Whenever we feel longing and wish to meet them, they appear within our hearts. They do not return from a distant place only on this day. They have been at our side from the very beginning. As a sign of gratitude for this constant presence, we inscribe their names on the lanterns.

The expression "If that is so" means that all one's duties in this life have been fulfilled. Then, what was the important role that your loved one fulfilled? Some people may wonder whether that person accomplished anything so grand.

The greatest mission your loved one fulfilled was to be born in order to meet you and to leave their memory and presence within you. Because they were born, met you, and left this mark upon your life, we can have absolute certainty that invisible love and bonds truly exist. That is why, with deep gratitude, we keep their names in our hearts and write them on the lanterns.

Farewell—Sayounara—is not a simple ending. It is the final, essential act that makes an encounter complete and perfect. To honor loved ones who have fulfilled their mission, to give thanks for having met them, to share a meal with the companions gathered here today, and to celebrate the joy of living—this is the true meaning of the Obon service we have prepared with such care. To raise these lanterns here today is an act of immense value and deep significance.

Because he breaks the darkness of ignorance, he is named the Buddha of Wise Light. All the Buddhas and vehicles of three stages together praise his virtue.

Good afternoon, everyone. Welcome to our temple today. It is something we often overlook in our daily lives, but there is a truth: "We tend to judge things based only on the visible part, but the connections that are truly important exist precisely where they cannot be seen." Today, I would like to speak a little about this.

Usually, when we meet someone we do not agree with or someone who seems harsh, we tend to judge them only by that visible part, such as their "harshness" or "stubbornness," and think of them negatively. However, behind that harshness, it may just be that they were hurt in the past or are hiding a gentle side to protect something. In this world, there are no people who are solely gentle, nor are there people who are solely harsh. Everyone, just like you, carries gentleness and harshness, joy and sadness, all within their hearts as they strive to live.

In this way, the function of the mind that tries to notice "no, that is not all," without being caught only by visible appearances, is called "Wisdom" in Buddhism. And in a world where we cannot see everything, the only existence that gazes into the very depths of your heart and embraces you completely is what we call "Amida Tathagata," or Buddha. The Buddha grants us this Wisdom.

Let us now direct this eye of the heart, granted by the Buddha, toward our connection with our departed loved ones. Today, you have come to the temple holding the memorial tablets of your loved ones, carrying their memories in your chests. Their bodies and lives indeed no longer exist in this world. We can no longer see them with our eyes or hear their voices. However, as long as we keep their presence in our hearts and try to listen to their voices from the past, those precious individuals continue to support our steps today as a warm, invisible presence. The existence that continues to support and heal us even after death—that indeed is the Buddha.

This feeling of treasuring our connection with loved ones leads us to the Nembutsu, which is the heart that aspires for birth in the Pure Land, relying on the compassion of Amida Tathagata. To see the world as it truly is means nothing less than striving to see the invisible part: the compassion from the deceased that is easily overlooked. Although our lives are certainly finite, the flow of history connecting us from our ancestors to ourselves and on to future descendants is bound today by a single, unbreakable line that transcends time and space.

The words Namu Amida Butsu have been passed down from person to person since ancient times until today. Reaching this great milestone of the 10th anniversary today was possible precisely because of this invisible bond of the Nembutsu with those who came before us. It is with heartfelt joy that we welcome this precious page of our history, woven together with the dedicated efforts of Rev. Shimizu, Mr. Horii, the Shibata family, and many others, and that we are all gathered here to recite the Nembutsu together.

Today, each of you has come to this place bringing your own unique thoughts and circumstances, gathering together to remember those who are so deeply important. Gently placing your hands together toward someone you cannot see, or quietly listening to the resonant sound of the sutras. Do you not find yourself suddenly wondering, "What is the true meaning behind these actions?" In fact, it is precisely within the outward form you are practicing right now that the deepest wisdom of Buddhism is hidden.

We often think that only after our hearts are completely purified, or after we have understood everything, can we begin to live serenely like the Buddha. However, those who attain true peace reverse this order. No matter how many uncertainties or doubts fill their hands, they first try to "imitate the Buddha." They entrust themselves to the sound of the sutras chanted since ancient times, immerse themselves completely in the temple's silence, and place their hands together with care. By entering this sacred form first, our once-restless minds are naturally rescued and calmed from the outside in.

Just as our bodies are built from the food we eat, our hearts are constructed from the words we hear with our ears and the thoughts we harbor within our chests. When our spirits are dry, we tend to calculate only the immediate present, thinking, "Will I lose something right now?" or "How much can I spare myself?" But choosing to live each day carelessly, thinking "this is good enough," quietly destroys our peace of mind without our realizing it, moving us away from true tranquility.

It is incredibly difficult to build a world of inner peace that we do not yet know entirely from scratch inside our own heads. Therefore, shifting our point of view just a little, we try to choose the Buddha's teachings first in the minor decisions of daily life. We experience following in his footsteps. Instead of looking at "how much I will gain," we try to choose the invisible value: "How much peace will this gesture bring to my heart?" We deliberately select a single meal, a single encounter, or the gentle words that soothe someone else.

This is never a falsehood meant to make us appear good. It is, in truth, an indispensable mold designed to let the welcoming warmth of the Buddha, which already exists there, spread and adhere directly to our own hearts. Repeating this practice, even little by little, will one day transform our speech, change our perspective, and completely renew our way of living.

In the Amida Sutra, it is taught that within the Pure Land, "everything exists." On the other hand, it is also taught that the realm of enlightenment is a "world where nothing exists." To have everything and, at the same time, to possess nothing. This is not an unresolvable contradiction. Today, when you thought of those who have departed, setting aside immediate gains and attachments to join your hands in silent prayer... a "quiet and empty room" opened deep within your hearts. And it is precisely into this empty room that the infinite compassion of the Buddha enters and completely overflows. Without calculating prices or benefits, we experience simply surrendering ourselves to this serene reality. The very fact that you are here today for the sake of someone precious, joining your hands at this moment, is the surest proof and entrance into a life of peace, guarded by that immense power we call the Buddha.

What if just a single choice in your past had been different? Up until this very day, we have accumulated countless large and small decisions in our lives. We decide to leave a bit early because we have extra time, we choose which restaurant to have lunch at, and we are constantly selecting something. To put sugar in our coffee today or not? Even in such a simple detail, a choice is being made.

Before us, countless possible paths open up. out of this infinity of directions, we have always chosen just one to walk until we arrived here. However, are we truly choosing with absolute freedom? When we look back from the present moment, everything seems to take on a character of inevitabilidade. If we had taken a different path back then, perhaps we would not be here today. If we had chosen a different school, or made that trip to another destination. What we call mere coincidence for being here right now might, deep down, have already been determined from the beginning. Is this an inexplicable miracle or simply reality as it is?

And from now on, where are we walking? The future is an absolute mystery to all of us. Yet, we can wish for tomorrow to be better and act in the present to make it happen. This is what we call life. It is precisely because we do not know what lies ahead that we are allowed to carry hope.

There is a dimension that already contemplates and welcomes our entire horizon, from the beginning to the end. This is what we call the Buddha. The future that the Buddha sees for us is our ultimate birth in the Pure Land, the full awakening. No matter what your trajectory has been, or which paths you ended up choosing, the Buddha maintains the absolute conviction to lead us to this refuge. Supported by this same compassion, our loved ones who departed before us have become Buddhas and, today, sustain our walk.

Whatever the unfolding of facts in your existence, you will never be abandoned. For us, who walk in the uncertainty of tomorrow, this presence restores the certainty of a firm ground to which we can return. Today, we celebrate the birth of Master Shinran Shonin, the one who dedicated his life to passing down this essential truth to us.

Today, we gaze upon the sacred statue over which we pour the sweet sweet tea (Amacha). It represents the birth of Shakyamuni Buddha, the founder of Buddhism. Tradition tells us that upon entering this world, he pointed one hand to the heavens and the other to the earth, declaring: "Throughout heaven and earth, the only one capable of attaining Buddhahood is the 'self' (Ga)." This is the profound truth Shakyamuni revealed to us.

As human beings, we experience distress when we hunger and feel anxious when our material resources diminish. No matter what circumstances arise, we find it nearly impossible to stop thinking in terms of "me, myself, and I." In the secular world, this self-centeredness is labeled as "ego"—something we are often taught must be strictly suppressed or forcefully corrected. In reality, however, this very vulnerability is the natural, baseline condition of our living existence. It is the inevitable metabolism of being alive.

Wherever a bright light shines, a dense shadow is invariably cast. A human being cannot survive by merely radiating brilliance at all times. We do not need to spend our days obsessively chasing after an artificial sense of purity, beauty, or moral perfection. On the contrary, it is precisely within this selfish, deeply flawed, and unpolished self—this seemingly unfillable hollow inside our souls—where the path opens.

When we finally surrender to our own fundamental imperfection and realize with total honesty, "Ah, I can only ever be exactly who I am," a beautiful shift occurs. It is in that precise moment of surrender that the compassionate light of Amida Buddha flows in, completely filling that empty hollow. Just as we are, with all our flaws intact, we become one with the Buddha. This ultimate embrace is what we call salvation.

The gentle, subtle sweetness of the Amacha symbolizes the divine blessings of the Dragon Deis poured from the heavens. It represents a pure, unadulterated joy for having encountered this world and this life exactly as it is: beautifully imperfect. Let us carry this imperfect "self" with gratitude today, cherishing this shared day of reflection. Namandabu.

Good afternoon, everyone. Think of the sky you looked up at on your way here today—the drifting clouds, the gentle breeze brushing against your cheek. What will tomorrow bring? Surely, everyone is seeking happiness. Yet, each of these simple, ordinary sensations is, in truth, the irreplaceable "world" itself.

We often spend our days filled with unnecessary tension, constantly striving to "improve" ourselves or chasing after some idealized image of being an "admirable person." But what does it truly mean to be good or admirable? No matter how much we stretch ourselves to meet expectations, or how deeply we fall into self-reproach, we cannot separate ourselves from the great current of life for even a single second.

Tomorrow, you might be filled with laughter, or you might be weeping in sorrow. It is even possible that you may no longer be anywhere in this physical world. Whatever your state may be at any given moment—whether laughing or crying—your existence is a beautiful expression of reality, constantly changing form and flowing in perfect rhythm with the universe.

There is absolutely no need to pride yourself on being a "good person," nor is there any reason to despair over being "flawed" in order to live your life. Within the warm, unpretentious light of our everyday routine, we have been tenderly embraced from the very beginning. Through the compassionate eyes of the Buddha, every experience is nothing less than a part of one precious, sacred cycle.

We never needed to journey to some distant realm to find salvation, nor do we need to rush to accomplish extraordinary deeds. We are simply invited to live our days within this quiet, unwavering light, doing the best we can at each moment. Even if a deep shadow happens to fall beneath our feet, remember that even that temporary darkness is an event taking place within the light, safely enveloped by the Buddha's warm and watchful gaze. Let us cherish this day of gratitude together. Namandabu.

Good afternoon, everyone. Please look around this room; right now, we are witnessing the living history of our community. Here stands the legacy of the "Issei" pioneers, alongside you—their Nisei, Sansei, and younger descendants. For those of you who grew up on this Brazilian soil, the reserved demeanor of your Japanese parents and grandparents might have always seemed like a deep mystery. You may have often wondered, "Why were they so incredibly strict?" or "Why didn't they share their feelings with us more openly?"

This stern attitude could easily be perceived as coldness or emotional distance, perhaps making you feel that you weren't truly understood by them. Today, however, allow me to interpret the silent hearts of these pioneers for you. It was never coldness. First, as we know well, there was a significant language barrier. But beneath that layer lay something far more profound: they carried the deeply rooted spirit of an era in Japan, from Meiji to the end of the war, where discipline prized a character that might seem strange today—the unyielding spirit of the Samurai.

It was a culture where love was not spoken with sweet phrases, but was instead demonstrated through quiet strength, absolute honesty, and an unshakeable posture. Here, in an unfamiliar wilderness, that very rigidity became their most extreme expression of love to ensure your survival. When the pioneers first arrived on this land, there were no guarantees or external aids. A single moment of weakness or over-indulgence could put the survival of the entire family at risk. To protect you, they had to shield their hearts, making them as hard as granite. They firmly believed that making you strong enough to survive on this earth was the greatest and only love they could offer.

If they maintained a solemn silence regarding the tears of their past or what they left behind in Japan, it was not merely due to a struggle with Portuguese. It was because they desperately wanted you to look toward the future in this new country, rather than dwelling on the past. Had Japan been a perfect paradise, they would never have boarded the ships to Brazil. They held a deep pride in their homeland, yet they placed their absolute trust in your future on this new ground. The testament to their sacrifice stands right here: this beautiful Nikkei community they carved out of the wilderness. Our comfortable lives today were built upon the foundation of that silent ideal.

Times have changed, and the deep devotion they guarded in silence for decades is now newly shared and understood by us. As a minister who has journeyed from Japan, I carry the solemn responsibility to preserve and transmit this historical and spiritual legacy. From this day forward, I ask that you view your Issei parents and grandparents not as distant or severe individuals, but as noble souls who, within that quiet gaze, carried a deep and desperate love for you. This temple is a sanctuary that preserves those silent hopes of the pioneers and carries their mission forward. Buddhism possesses a vast and precious eye that gazes across the continuous flow of time, uniting past, present, and future. This is why the Issei could finally rest their hearts, confidently entrusting the future to you. They carried the Meiji values and were as strong as samurais. Yet, on those quiet nights when they gazed at the moon alone, they too must have swallowed their tears and loneliness, enduring everything in silence. Let us continue to cherish this deep gratitude that binds all generations together.

Good afternoon and a very Happy New Year to everyone. It brings me immense joy to begin this new year gathered together with all of you. At the start of a year, we naturally make promises and look toward the future with hope. Yet, deep within our hearts, there often exists a quiet anxiety that we cannot fully articulate—the loneliness of feeling that one day we will vanish from this world and be forgotten by all.

Reflect for a moment on the funeral rituals here in Brazil. Having witnessed hundreds of burials, I have seen countless tears of deep sorrow shed at the graveside. Yet, the moment the service concludes, the world returns to its busy routine as if nothing had altered. Witnessing how rapidly society adapts to the absence of the departed can leave us with a hollow feeling: "Will the world really not feel even a minor scratch when I am gone?"

To fill this inner void, we strive to show our children how we honor our parents and ancestors. Deep down, this serves as a poignant resistance against ultimate loneliness; we nurture the hope that by carefully tending to their memories, our children will do the exact same for us in the future. However, human memory is fragile, and everything that possesses physical form is destined to fade across time.

This is precisely where the timeless wisdom of Jodo Shinshu guides us through the teaching of "Kukai-issho"—being born together in one place. This does not merely mean meeting our loved ones in the Pure Land after death. Its profoundest meaning reveals that under the all-embracing gaze of infinite compassion, we have never been separated from them. We are not isolated segments divided by generations; rather, we stand as a vital bridge connecting our ancestors of the past with the unborn lives of the future.

When we join our hands in Gassho, those who have passed before us cease to be mere objects of nostalgic recollection; they become the very spiritual strength that guides our footsteps today. Even if the secular world completely forgets our existence, there is an Infinite Memory that embraces every intricate detail of our lives. Within that ultimate embrace, we awaken to the truth that we have never been alone. May this new year be a journey where you feel the profound reassurance that every step you take is firmly supported by this great, eternal affection.