Orange County Buddhist Church
Orange County Buddhist Church
Seventeen years ago, a young, rookie minister came to the Orange County Buddhist Church. He had a lot of enthusiasm but he knew nothing about the actual work of a minister. He had never officiated a wedding, makuragyo, or other such things. He had never had to prepare sermons, week after week, year after year. He never had to worry about the temple’s finances or working with different organizations.
Fortunately for this young rookie, there was a veteran minister to work under to learn from. The veteran had the experience, the wisdom, the stability, to have weathered through many years of ministry.
That rookie minister was of course me, and the veteran was the late Rev. Hirata.
When I was first assigned to OCBC in September of 1986, my assignment was to start on Sept. 1st. At that time Riki was only a year and a half old, and Keiko wasn’t even born yet. The three of us drove down from Oregon, arriving about three days before, on the 27th or 28th. After arriving, I met with Sensei and let him know that we had arrived safely, and that I was ready to start working on Sept. 1st. Okusan served us tea and we visited for some time. Finally, just before leaving Sensei said to me, “By the way, a funeral came up. I need you to help me tomorrow. You can give the English sermon at the funeral.”
And so began my ministry. The very next day I did my first funeral with Sensei. I can remember being nervous and petrified before we started. Did I have everything? My ojuzu, service book? Did I light the candles and incense right? Sensei was calm and focused, which did a lot to help calm my nerves. The funeral went smoothly, and I managed not to commit any grievous errors. From there I experienced many “firsts” with Sensei - my first wedding, first memorial service, first makuragyo, first this, first that. At each first I felt nervous and tense, but since there was a veteran to just follow, it made it infinitely easier to learn. Everything from A to Z I learned from Sensei. Which robes I should wear for this or that service, how to put out the manju for a memorial service, how to conduct a wedding rehearsal, -- everything I learned from Sensei.
I can also remember the first makuragyo service that I did with Sensei at a hospital. Again I felt very nervous and tense. The bereaved family was there and the atmosphere was stifling. Sensei calmly put on his robes and together we chanted the San Butsu Ge at the bedside of the deceased. Sensei offered some words of comfort and a short Dharma message. I could see the tension and sadness of the family members being eased by the service and Sensei’s words.
It seemed so strange to conduct the makuragyo service for Sensei at the hospital. I had done my first makuragyo service standing next to Sensei, and now instead of standing next to him, I was standing over him at his bedside chanting the sutra.
In the twelve years that I worked with Sensei, we had many lengthy conversations about all kinds of things. Whenever we went to meetings or services, we would drive together and have these lengthy talks. Quite often Sensei would share stories of the old days, of when he first started as a minister at the LA Betsuin, and when he served at OCBC in its earliest years.
Some of the stories he shared were amazing when you think about it in today’s terms. When OCBC was young, it was a struggle just to pay all the bills. A sangha of only 75 or so families took on the mortgage of building the hondo, social hall, and classrooms. Sometimes there wasn’t enough money to pay the utility bill, and the electricity would go off at Sensei’s home. Sensei would have to go to collect membership dues from members so that the electricity bill could be paid. Before we had security guards at our festivals, Sensei and the late Fred Hiroshima would sit in the parking lot all night long to guard the bazaar booths after they were set up for the festival.
Sensei also shared wonderful stories of some of the dedicated members that were a part of that early Sangha. One man, who served as treasurer, would pay many of the bills of the church out of his own pocket when there was no money in the church treasury to pay the bills.
One thing in particular I will always remember about working with Sensei. Over the twelve years, we did countless services together. Funerals, weddings, memorial services, makuragyo services, Sunday services, Shotsuki Hoyo services, we always did together. I would give an English sermon, and then Sensei would give a Japanese sermon. Over those twelve years, I repeated many, many of my sermons. Sensei didn’t repeat that many of his sermons. I wondered how he was able to create new sermons over so many years of ministry.
Whenever we would do a service together, when I gave my English sermon at the podium, I could hear Sensei sitting just behind me, and he would softly recite the Nembutsu, Namandabutsu, Namandabutsu. I could always hear Sensei reciting the Nembutsu when I gave my English sermon. It was not a distraction, but a real support, or encouragement to hear his Nembutsu while I gave a sermon. Actually, no matter who was speaking at the podium, I could hear Sensei recite the Nembutsu.
In looking back over the years, I realize that on many occasions, Sensei corrected something in my work. He would say you should do this or that, shouldn’t do this or that, and he kindly corrected different aspects of my work over the years. However, there was one area where he never said a word about my work. That area was regarding the content and delivery of my sermons. Not once did he say anything about what I should or shouldn’t say, about the content of my sermons, about the correctness or incorrectness of my religious understanding, or anything of that nature. You would think that there would’ve been countless occasions to do so.
However, what I realize now is that Sensei listened to the Dharma beyond the words and delivery of the speaker. Whether it was a rookie minister, or a learned scholar priest of the Hongwanji, Sensei listened with the same heart and mind. He listened in gratitude for being able to hear the Dharma. He listened to the message being imparted, no matter how simple or how profound. He heard a truth beyond the words of the speaker. He heard the Nembutsu, Namuamidabutsu, in each and every sermon that was delivered.
For Sensei, whether the sermon was short or long, eloquent or boring, dynamic or simple, whether the speaker was funny or dramatic, he heard something beyond the words, beyond the delivery. Thus, he recited softly, Namuamidabutsu.
This listening heart and mind is very important in Shin Buddhism. Of the many things that I learned from Sensei, I think I am most grateful to him for showing me this listening heart and mind.
The truth that Sensei heard beyond the words and delivery of the sermon, is the essence of Shin Buddhism. There is nothing more to do than to simply receive the truth of Namuamidabutsu in your heart and mind as a Shin Buddhist. I will continue to hear the soft recitation of the Nembutsu by Rev. Hirata, in my heart and mind as I continue to give sermons and work as a minister.
Namuamidabutsu,
Rev. Marvin Harada
