Chabad Japan

For the past months, I have continued my Jewish studies and Torah observance at a Chabad House in Tokyo. I have spent the weekly Shabbat, the holidays and some excursions with a very special family.

The family consists of Rabbi Binyomin, Rebbetzin Efrat, and their five children: Moshiach (approx 8), Zalman (approx 6), Chaya Mushka (approx 4), Pinchas (2) and Levi Yitzchak (8 months).

The Rabbi is fiery and immensely stringent in his Torah observance. He nearly always has a big bright smile on his face and seems to speak all the words that come to his mind. The Rebbetzin is wise and centered and does a fine job sustaining the innocence of the children (who are sheltered from TV and computer games and thus spend their days reading and playing with their imaginations). The firstborn, Moshiach is inquisitive and mature well beyond his years. Zalman, who looks and acts like his father, is wild and full of energy. Chaya Mushka, the lone daughter, is bashful to guests, but sings and dances with her brothers. Pinchas is strong willed and very happy when rested. (Once, when asked why he would want to go to Mt. Fuji, Pinchas responded, “to dance.”) Levi Yitzchak, the baby, is feisty and rarely cries for attention. The children have learned Hebrew and Yiddish from their parents, and learn English from the guests.

The family’s mission is to bring the light of religion to the Jews living in Japan and teach the ways of G-d to the Japanese (sometimes the Shabbat table will have as many Japanese as Jews). Their most admirable attributes are their kindness and sincerity. From what I have seen, they live true lives. They think as they speak and act as they believe. The family is very strong in their faith, and I have yet to see them flinch or compromise.

Keeping kosher in Japan is a challenge. They cook most of their own food, milk rural cows, slaughter chickens or cows for their meat and have their wine and other food products flown in bulk from abroad.
The story of Binyomin and Efrat in Japan began seven years ago, when they arrived in Tokyo with $400 in their pockets. To survive to this day, they have been supported and sustained by a string of miracles. One instance occurred a few years ago, when their landlord asked them to leave their home (due to noise complaints). As the deadline to leave approached, Binyomin was nearly out of options and walking with his Japanese friend Muto. Muto asked Binyomin, “Where is your G-d?” Binyomin patted him on the back and said, “Don’t worry, G-d always helps.” Within 30 seconds, a man pulled over his car, greeted them with “shalom,” and offered them a ride. The driver was a kind Japanese gentleman named Sakamoto with interest in Jewish composers and culture. Through the next moment’s conversation, Sakamoto (pictured here with Muto in NYC) heard of Binyomin’s plight, offered a free place to stay in Tokyo and ended up paying all the bills (except for the telephone) for one year.

When asked how long they plan to stay in Japan, the Rebbetzin responded, “Until (the messiah) comes.” Thank G-d that they are here, for they have been a refuge for me in difficult times and have helped many people.

Shodo

From the beginning of my stay in Japan, I understood that I would not be successful at learning the language within a year. I decided that the best way to learn about the culture and way of thinking would be through the study of an art. The art I chose, or more so the art that chose me, was calligraphy or shodo. I am very fortunate to have met and become the student of a very kind and proficient calligrapher and been able to practice with the Sekino family.

On the surface the art appears very simple, but its details are very complex. The artist draws a set of black lines on white paper to create the characters. To create a character is very easy, but to draw power and spirit into the character takes much skill and mastery. To achieve this, one spends long hours, focusing his or her mind and getting a complete control of the brush.

The first step in creating a work is meditation. One must clear his or her mind of the world and focus completely on each line. Once the proper mindset is achieved, the calligrapher, grinds the ink out a sumi or inkblock, dips in his or her brush, sharpens the angle of the brushtip and begins (the process of extracting the perfect amount of ink and readjusting the brushtip must be done between each stroke).

The major elements of each character or each set of characters are form, balance and spacing.

A work with good form has lines with proper shape, width and angle. Such determines the power or feeling of each character. For instance, the character for water, should have fluid and bending lines, while the lines for mountain should be strong and straight.

Good balance implies that the lines are in correct proportion to each other. If a character has too many lines off to one side, or has thick lines in one corner and thin in another, it is out of balance. A balanced character is a centered character, with equal weight above, below, to the right and to the left. If a calligrapher begins a character with thick lines, or a lot of weight to one side, he or she can compensate by making the subsequent lines thick or adding extra weight to the opposing side. Because of this, the work is not considered good or bad until the last line is drawn.

Good spacing means that the negative space of the paper is used well. This means (for the style that I have been working on) that the characters should be in the center of the paper, with proper space between themselves, the edges of the paper and the other character.

Creating a work with all three elements in harmony is very difficult. One can understand how complete focus is necessary to draw with all this in mind.

Thus far, the study of shodo has taught me much. It has taught me about the importance of focus and attention to details. The art has also opened my eyes to see balance, powerful forms and the use of negative space in the art and architecture of Japan. They can be seen in gardens, in flower arrangements or even by viewing the layouts of the towns from a mountaintop.

I hope to continue to study and create calligraphy, and plan to write more about what I have learned in the future.

(The characters from top to bottom are "freedom" (myself + reason), "water droplet" (water + dot) and "the sound of rain" (rain + sound).)

Adventure 11: Hakone

10/25/08 I awoke, took a set of trains (one with a clear view of Fujisan’s newly snow-capped peak) and a bus and arrived at Lake Ashino. I was very relieved to arrive in the nature, for the week prior was busy and unsettling.

As I arrived, the sun began to shine through the clouds and enlighten the waters and the wind whipped large ripples into the lake’s surface and loudly rustled the vegetation. The wild beauty of the moment brought me to a state of giddiness and I began to sing and skip along the lakeside.

I continued a few hundred feet along a stone path along the lake and took a seat on the beach. I watched the light flicker in the waves, took out the flute and played some soft slow music to accompany the sounds of gushing waves and rustling trees.

Afterwards, I took a paved road and a hiking trail up to the top of Mt Komagatake (1350m). The top had brilliant views of Lake Ashino, Sagami Bay, the beginnings of fall foliage and Fujisan (which had grey clouds covering its neck and head). I wanted to stay and take it in, but the wind was overpowering and too cold for my sweaty chest. This forced me to immediately head down through a pine forest, stepping over a trail filled with red, orange and yellow maple leaves, to a site called Owakudani. There, there was smoking volcanic gas rising from the hillside, a clearer view of Fujisan (whose head cloud slowly began to thin and vanish into the heavens) and the most powerful winds of the day.

I headed up the hillside and took a seat with a view of the huge lurking mass of Fujisan. In a moment of peace, I watched the clouds slowly dissipate above its head and the lines and patches of snow on its peak.

After, I headed back home. Refreshed.

Father' Visit

10/10/08-10/13/08Recently, my father visited Japan and we spent a three day weekend together. The following is an account of the visit.

He arrived on a Friday afternoon and took a train directly to Tokyo. After work, I went to meet him and we met with a long embracing hug.

We picked up our bags and headed to the Chabad House for Shabbat. There we were met with the great warmth and hospitality of the Rabbi, Rebbetzin and there five children. We sat at the table and ate, but Father went to bed early to sleep off the jetlag.

The next morning, we walked to a nearby Starbucks (which had just opened the week before) and talked for hours. (Much has happened in the family and the world since I left America and I needed to catch up. It appears that it is a time of great intensity and distrust. I feel fortunate to be out of it.)

In the afternoon, we returned for a Kiddush meal and then parted. In the evening we met again near his hotel and went for a walk in the windy autumn night. Before sleep, I spoke about the challenges and learning experience of Japan and what I plan to do in the future.

The next morning we awoke early, took a set of trains and picked up the Matty’s mobile. The day’s plan was to take a scenic drive around the east, south and west coasts of the Miura Peninsula. Our first destination was Yokosuka city. We parked the car, walked around a rose garden pier, through the downtown area and to an Italian restaurant for lunch. (This was the first time that I ate-out for non-Japanese food since May. The food was delicious.) After, we took the car around the coastline. We saw magnificent views of the green seaside cliffs, small fishing villages, and large fields of farmland. Before sunset, we arrived in Zushi, sat on the pier and watched the clouds darken and a group of children fishing on a nearby dock.

After, we headed to the Sekino’s house for dinner. There, we were greeted with warmth, hot green tea and a sushi dinner. We spoke of many topics and laughed a lot. Afterward, Sekino-san drove us to the train station, shook our hands and said “Goodbye.”

The next morning, we awoke and headed to Okutama Park. We took a set of trains, a bus and a cable car and arrived on a mountaintop. When we arrived, we took a moment to gaze upon the distant mountains and cities and the first signs of fall foliage. Then we headed on a hike to a waterfall, passing massive trees and temples. The waterfall was serene and inspired the following haiku:

Yellow and brown leaves,
And a waterfall’s cool breath.
It is all alive.

After, we headed back to the Tokyo Chabad house to see the family and the Sukkah for a short visit. Then I walked Father back to the train station, and we parted with a long embracing hug. He went to prepare for the week’s business meetings and I returned to the Sukkah to celebrate the holiday.

Sekino Family

9/7/08-10/8/08

It has now been a full month since I moved in with a Japanese family. Here I would like to speak about the family, the house and the lifestyle.

I live with a semi-retired couple. Sekino-san, the father, is an electrical engineer and a strong golfer. He was born in a rural town of northern Japan in a family of 10 brothers and sisters. He spent five years away from the family, working in Abu Dabai. While he was away, his parents-in-law moved into the house and helped raise the children. Yumiko-san, the mother, was a domestic science teacher and is a great cook. Today she spends a lot of time helping out at her mother’s nursing home and supporting other charitable works.

Sekino-san and Yumiko-san have three children and two grandchildren. Their eldest daughter is married and has two children. She lives close and visits from time to time. Their eldest son lives far north, and comes home for New Years. Their youngest daughter lives in Yokohama and works at a bank. She visited the house three times in September.

The house itself is neat and well decorated. It has an orange tiled roof and well maintained Japanese style garden. The garden has stepping stones, trees, flowers and sculptures. In September a very special white flower bloomed. This flower, gekka bijin (which means beautiful lady below the moon), blooms only once a year; on the night of (or night before or after) a full moon. Inside, the house is filled with small origami crafts. The foldings are very intricate, and it is mind-boggling how it is possible for a human being to make such a work. Also, there are flowers in nearly every room and many small sculptures.

We spend most of our time together at meals. Each of which contains many different kinds of foods (often new or unknown to me), served on multiple plates and bowls. Yumiko-san handcrafts the placement of each food, creating a meal that is as pleasing to look at as it is to eat. During the meal we talk about differences in language and culture and learn a lot about each other. Sekino-san orders a daily English newspaper, and at meals he often reads the text and I help him understand the words and concepts that are new to him.

Since my arrival, Sekino-san and Yumiko-san have been very kind to me and have made me feel like a member of the family. They have taught me how the Japanese think, and have greatly enhanced the quality of my home life. I hope and plan to stay with them for at least two more months.

Assembly Class

Sobu Kindergarten: 9/25/08

This Thursday I taught a set of assembly classes at Sobu Kindergarten. An assembly class is a 20 minute English lesson in front of 30-90 Japanese children. Although it is teaching, the classes must be entertaining. This means that, in order to capture the students’ attention and involve them in the lesson, the teacher uses songs and much jumping, moving and shaking.

This Thursday I drove south on the toll road to reach the lesson. The toll road was paved through the central highlands of the Miura Peninsula and offers great views of the sharp green hillsides and rural villages. This particular day was clear and the sun illuminated the multiple shades of greens of the grasses, ivies and trees.

At about 10:00am I arrived at Sobu Kindergarten. The structure and decoration of the Kindergarten is closer to a theme park than an American school. The buildings are painted pastel yellow, lime green, pink, orange and bright red and sit at the foot of a hill in a rural setting. There is an entire building near the playground built like Thomas the Tank Engine (pictured below). The hallways are also painted with pastel colors and there are cute pictures and paintings posted everywhere. When I arrived, I heard the sounds of “Supercalifradulous” booming from the stereos and loud laughter of scores of children.

Most children of the kindergarten wear matching yellow, green and red shirts, green shorts, long black socks, white shoes and small caps that designate their age or class. Whenever I walk through the halls at a Japanese Kindergarten, I am often greeted by the children. They run to me from all directions and shout “Hello” and then give out a loud belly laugh. Often I put my hand about a foot over their head and offer a jumping high five. They proceed to crouch low and jump as high as they can (as many times as it takes) to slap my hand. Upon a successful high five, the children celebrate and laugh in a state of bliss. (Imagine a college basketball team winning a National Championship and celebrating. Picture the jumping and cries of joy of the winning young men. Such is a comparable level of delight to what is experienced by these children after a successful high five.)

Soon I arrived in a pink classroom and began preparing for five lessons. I taped a calendar and pictures of the months to a white board and took out the rest of the props: pictures of the sun, clouds, rain and snow, the alphabet, Q, R, S, T, U and V posters and their subsequent props (a picture of a turtle and a tiger for the T lesson).

Each class entered with 30-60 students and 1-2 teachers. The teachers had seemingly full control of the students. They had them stretch out their hands (pictured below) and sat them in well-spaced rows.
The lessons began with repeating phrases and singing songs about greeting, the date, months and the alphabet. After, as they began to lose their concentration, I had them repeat and physically perform, “up,” “down,” “shake,” and “turn around.” Then we sang and performed Hoki Poki. This brought loud laughter and concentration and I followed with teaching the letters and their words (U: umbrella and unicorn). After this, I ended with a “Goodbye song.” Upon the conclusion of the lessons, I was immediately hugged by huge swarms of students. I reached my hand out and gave as many ecstatic high fives as possible and pointed them in the direction of their teachers.
Here it is important to repeat that the classes are more about entertainment than lecturing. There is an art to keeping the children focused and interested. The teacher has to be quick and always have the edge. When the students start to get bored, one must quickly change to a fun song or motion exercise. If they get too excited and lose focus, the teacher must calm them. Also, there is also an art to having them repeat a letter or phrase ten times. One must change speeds, pitch and volume of his or her voice and constantly be creative. Such has been a challenging learning process for me and will probably continue to be so for the rest of my stay in Japan.

After finishing the lesson, I packed up the props, said the final “goodbyes” and took the toll road home.

Around Shonan Takatori

The Matty’s office and dorm (whose structure is the same as the adjacent houses) lie in a quiet neighborhood named Shonan Takatori. The neighborhood stands at the waste of Mt. Takatori (This means “grabbing hawk,” which refers to a species of brown, wide-winged hawks that stalk and swoop throughout the area. They have been known to talon food out of a human’s hand, and I believe this is the source of the name.), about 1.5 miles inland from Tokyo Bay.

The houses around the area are small and tightly pressed together. Each has distinct architecture and intricately planted, shaped and cut gardens. Most are built compactly on 2-8 foot high stone foundations to protect from earthquakes and typhoons. Many people have small box-shaped cars and dogs and/or cats as pets.

The local earth is filled with a wide variety of life. The diversity of vegetation is far superior to that of America. The mountain landscapes are filled with various species of maple, pine, bamboo and many others unknown to me. They cover the forests in small connected patches, appearing as a quilt. Also, throughout the spring and summer, many different colors and sizes of flowers sprout along the roads and within personal gardens. The Japanese have quite an affinity for them and make an extra effort to plant flowers in every free corner. Along with vegetation, there are many species of insects. The most interesting are the green beetles, praying mantises and the various species and colors of butterfly. This said, the area’s birds are much less widespread than in America. I have sporadically seen sparrows, chickadees, swallows, ravens, hawks, and tiny green birds named mejiro. Also, land animals are rarely seen. They are limited to small forest squirrels, snakes and raccoons.

Just outside Matty's office, there is a trail that ascends Mt. Takatori. It passes trees, flowers and a set of house-sized brown boulders and leads to a tower that holds open and expansive 360 degree views. On a clear day, one can see Chiba Prefecture (on the other side of Tokyo Bay) to the east. To the north, one can see the towers of Yokohama and Tokyo and the green inland hills, the southeastern most edge of the Miura Peninsula and Yokosuka city to the south. To the west, one can see Sagami Bay, more hills and Fujisan (it has not been clear enough for me to see yet).

Many times, I hiked to this tower, sat in meditation and then opened my eyes to clear vision of these vast views.
As one descends from Shonan Takatori towards Tokyo Bay, one passes a variety of places to shop, eat and drink. Within 50 feet one can find a new and well-kept bank or corporate convenient store and small wooden shacks that house the businesses of small “mom and pop” food, flower, clothing or car maintenance shops. Also, there are tiny noodle shops, housed in buildings that are five feet wide and fifteen feet long (just enough room for a cook, his or her equipment and seating for 2-4 people).

Continuing towards the bay, one walks along a river, where many fish from land or clam in the water, and arrives at a large park. In the park, there is a baseball field, an area for barbecuing alongside the river and a tall hill that houses a tower. From there one can see the vast inland villages, the mountain range at the center of the peninsula, Tokyo Bay and a few miles of its coastline.

I still live in Shonan Takatori, and plan to continue to explore and write more details in the future.

Dorm Living

6/08-8/08

Recently, I moved out of the Matty’s Dorm and into a homestay with a Japanese family. Here I would like to recount the most pleasant characteristic of dorm living: the bedroom.
The day I moved in, Mrs. Kyokuta showed me my room. It had tatami floors, paper windows, a bed and a large metal desk. From the outset, I desired to live and sleep in the Japanese style. I moved out the bed and the desk, and brought in a futon. Every morning I folded up the futon and stored it in the closet and every night I took it out and prepared it for sleeping. During the day, my room consisted of two walls of paper windows, two walls of closed closets and a bare tatami floor.

Such an arrangement brought many moments of peace. Its emptiness was a good environment for prayer, study and meditation. I kept the tatami floors clean and soft and the morning and late afternoon sun illuminated the paper windows with great beauty.

On the south wall, behind the paper windows, there were two sliding panes of glass that opened to a small wooden patio. The patio faced the dorm’s garden: a well-planned set of seasonally flowering bushes and trees, boulders, wild bamboo shoots and a traditional rock lantern. I would often eat breakfast on this patio, looking upon the vegetation and the surrounding hillsides blowing in the wind. At night, the patio often had open views of the rising moon. I would sit and watch it glow through the clouds. On such nights, I would open the window panes, lay the futon next to the screen, and fall asleep with my eyes watching the moon.

Such experiences will be missed, but I have been very happy in my current living environment. I plan to write about the family, the house and the way of life in future.

Adventure 8: Minami Alps (days 3 & 4)

8/14/08-8/15/08


After a windy night in the high mountains, I awoke to clear skies and a view of Fujisan. My initial plan was to head south and hike two more peaks in the morning and then loop back over Kita Dake and Aino Dake in the afternoon. This changed when a weathered and old mountain man told me that thunder and rain were possible in the high mountains in the afternoon. With this knowledge, I decided to continue south over the peaks and take the quickest route down the mountain. As I left, the man said, "be careful" and "good luck."

As I started to climb Notori Dake (3052m), a dark thick cloud and powerful wind covered the mountain. The green mountain scenery from the day before was hidden and I could only see 20 feet in front of me. As I approached the second peak, the sky cleared over the eastern valley and vision returned. I took a short break and headed down a rocky hill with wild flowers and tall grasses.

The time came to leave the high mountains and I began a steep and seemingly endless descent through a thickly forested mountainside. The hike was taxing on my knees, feet and eyes, but clear views of Fujisan and the surrounding forests eased the pain. Finally, I arrived at the campsite and put up the tent with my tired bones. After, I walked over to a near river and built a rock tower. At the campsite, I met a French Canadian named Phillip and his wife, Yoko. We spoke about living in Japan, talked, laughed loudly and raised spirits.

Before heading to sleep, I sat for a long time and watched the clouds float around Fujisan, taking in the atmosphere of the mountains.

I awoke the next morning at sunrise. There was a clear view of Fujisan under clouds of yellow, blue and orange. I quickly packed up and got my sore legs marching down the trail by 6:15am. The first leg was along and over the river and the second was through a mossy forest. The sun was out and illuminating the leaves and the views of the surrounding mountain slopes.

At one point, I took a break and sat facing the river. I gazed at the ripples and the reflecting light. I thought about how fortunate I was to be in the Japanese Alps at that moment and to have made it over the mountains with my health and possessions intact.

Soon after, I finished the last leg, a paved road under clear skies and open views of the high mountains, and arrived in Narada. Narada was a small town at the end of the trail with houses with multi-colored roofs and a famous onsen, or hot spring. With the help of a kind Japanese couple, I found the onsen. I quickly paid, took off my dirty clothes, showered and submerged in the warm waters. The facility that housed the onsen facilitated the cleaning experience of the bath. It had tatami-floored tea rooms, stone floors and ajisai flowers just outside the bath. Afterwards, I headed down to the bus stop and found the fastest route back to Tokyo (with the proactive benevolence of the kind Japanese couple).

A few hours later, I arrived in Tokyo, called Rabbi Binyamin and was graciously accepted to stay with his family for Shabbat. At his house, I prayed with renewed fervor, nourished my body and got a full night of sleep.