One could say Sri Lankan Buddhist monk Alubomulle Sumanasara has a way with words. He has sold more than 1 million copies of his collected sermons during two decades of missionary work in Japan.
One could say Sri Lankan Buddhist monk Alubomulle Sumanasara has a way with words. He has sold more than 1 million copies of his collected sermons during two decades of missionary work in Japan.
The 67-year-old revered monk of Theravada Buddhism holds monthly sermons in fluent Japanese. In a typical session in September, he addressed a capacity crowd of 400 people at a town hall in Tokyo's Shinjuku Ward. His audience included suited businessmen, young women and others clinging to his every utterance.
Sumanasara, garbed in maroon robe, is a serene presence on stage. Members of the audience nod their heads at every pearl of wisdom he imparts and jot down tips on how to lead a fulfilling life.
"I am not a devoted Buddhist, but his words resonate with me. It's like hearing a good motivational speech," said a 29-year-old Tokyoite who is a public servant.
The woman said she is an ardent reader of Sumanasara's collected sermons. He has released more than 100 titles to date, including a 2006 best-seller "Okoranaikoto" (Why one should not give in to anger), which has sold more than 400,000 copies.
Religious adherents of a gamut of faiths have descended on Japan in this age of globalization that has led to eased travel restrictions and a lowering of cultural borders.
Religious groups and missionaries from across Asia have traditionally served immigrant communities in Japan. But like Sumanasara, some are reaching out to Japanese audiences, who they see as increasingly questioning their secular values amid a protracted economic downturn as rebuilding continues from last year's natural disaster.
Theravada, the oldest surviving branch of Buddhism, is the predominant religion across Southeast Asia.
Asked why his message touches a chord with Japanese, Sumanasara said in an interview it is because he "never tries to preach religion."
The September lecture, for instance, started with a solemn prayer, but his sermon that followed was practical. He urged his audience to develop "self-checking mechanisms" to prevent friction with others.
"People appreciate my teachings because there are not many intellectuals today who can point out what is right from wrong with true conviction at a time when traditional morality is in decline," he said.
For Shinichi Ito, a resident of Kamaishi, Iwate Prefecture, who is 63 years old and retired, his chance encounter with volunteers of the Taiwan-based Buddhist organization Tzu Chi Foundation was a manifestation of Buddhist benevolence.
Three months after his coastal home was swept away by the March 11 tsunami, members of the foundation traveled to Kamaishi, a fishing town located on the Sanriku rias coast, to hand out cash gifts to homeowners whose property was damaged. It gave away 182.6 million yen ($2.32 million) to 3,680 households in the area.
Ito got 50,000 yen. At first he was wary, thinking he would have to pledge religious adherence in return. "I had an allergy toward religion," he recalled.
While religious organizations in Japan sent volunteers and arranged emergency supplies of relief goods to disaster-stricken areas in the Tohoku region, Tzu Chi's contribution was exceptional. In total, it gave away 5 billion yen ($63.8 million) to 97,000 households in Iwate, Miyagi and Fukushima prefectures, according to staff at the group's Tokyo headquarters.
The humanitarian group is known around the world for its unique leadership structure--nuns are in charge--and its commitment to helping impoverished countries and areas struck by calamity.
Ito said he gradually lowered his guard as he observed volunteers enthusiastically reaching out to local residents. He was so touched by Tzu Chi's charitable activities that he has since helped out as a volunteer chauffeur and coordinator. In April, he even made a trip at his own expense to the group's headquarters in Taiwan to learn more about its teachings.
"When my world was turned upside down by the tsunami, what helped me most was Tzu Chi's activities. This is something that utilitarian, efficiency-oriented thinking could not have accomplished. I am still irreligious, but I now think religion is something if it can be a source of benevolence."
But is benevolence alone enough to keep people interested in religion?
This is the question now facing a group of Korean Christian missionaries, who organize weekly soup kitchens for homeless people and others in need at Tokyo's Ueno Park.
Each Tuesday, at noon, between 400 and 500 desperate people line up for a free meal that is served after open-air sermons by Shin Bok-kyu and other pastors.
Shin, chief missionary of Tokyo Seiko Presbyterian Church in the capital's Edogawa Ward, founded the charity 18 years ago with the help of Korean residents in Japan.
But it is becoming increasingly difficult for the group to serve nourishing meals for so many needy people as the protracted economic slump in Japan has taken a heavy toll on Korean business operators in recent years.
"There is a certain irony to the situation," said Shin, 58. "Korean newcomers to Japan, who usually run small businesses and are financially vulnerable, are supporting Japanese people in need of assistance."
It is estimated that 20,000 Korean missionaries are working overseas, of whom some 1,000 are working in Japan. Despite the proximity, Japan is known among pastors as one of the toughest places to perform missionary work, Shin said.
The church is waging a drive to attract Japanese followers after an exodus of Korean residents from eastern Tokyo following the nuclear disaster in northeastern Japan last year.
The number of Korean parishioners has halved, and now only 30 or so people turn up each Sunday.
But even people who turn up for free chow are reluctant to attend the sermons.
"I see it is our dilemma that older generation Japanese tend to be prejudiced against Koreans, whereas younger generations, who have a more favorable image of Korea, have no interest in religion," Shin said.
"My hope is that cultural exchanges between the two countries will further flourish and deepen, thereby opening Japanese eyes to the possibility of importing the Christian faith from South Korea."
Like many other ethnic faiths, branch temples of the Dhammakaya Foundation, a fast-growing Buddhism organization in Thailand, are struggling to attract Japanese followers.
The group started to send its monks to Japan in 1999 to serve Thai communities here. It now has 10 temples mainly in the Kanto region, which attract about 600 regular worshippers on weekends.
While the foundation has only around a dozen Japanese followers, Dhammakaya monks in Tokyo said they were surprised by the level of support and interest from Japanese monks.
Each year, a dozen Japanese people, including monks, scholars and students of Buddhist colleges, travel to Thailand to take part in workshops organized by Dhammakaya at its main temple outside Bangkok.
In 2009, Kenyo Mitomo, a revered Nichiren sect monk and professor of Buddhism studies at Rissho University, joined the program with the hope of experiencing "the genuine energy" of Theravada Buddhism. He was driven by a long-held concern that traditional Buddhism in Japan has lost its way.
Mitomo, 67, lamented that Buddhism in Japan had established itself in secular society with a complex hierarchic structure and doctrines.
The short-term training workshops organized by Dhammakaya emphasize a secluded life, coupled with regular meditation. Mitomo said it was an eye-opening experience for him that helped him realize how "he himself had been bound to social status and secular values."
"Many Japanese take pride in being irreligious, and a part of the reason is that existing religions have failed to offer them alternative values to counter materialism and other secular culture," Mitomo said. "Dhammakaya showed me the way. We tend to encourage seclusion, but religious leaders need a much greater global awareness."