I am a blessings priest! I use the ritual with its numerous liturgical blessings and find it a powerful form of mission.

As I write this, I have just come from blessing an expectant mother. After receiving the blessing she said, using a special Japanese simile, “My fears have evaporated like the morning dew. My tension and aloneness have gone. I feel confidant.” And this first-time expectant mother really meant it. Her eyes just lit up. It is a beautiful blessing. It starts with a prayer expressing how this mother is sharing in God’s own creation. The short Gospel reading is from Mark 10:13-16. Jesus blesses each child and mother. The prayers emphasize joy and trust.

In Japan on November 15, there is a traditional blessing of children aged 7, 5 and 3. In the country, parents take their children to their local Shinto shrine. But urbanized and Christian Japanese have no such shrine. We give the children and their parents a blessing at the church. I would usually have about 250 children, plus their parents (95% non-Christians) from the local kindergartens. I urge the parents to seek God’s help in raising their children in our present unsettled society. To the children, my message is this: “Say thank you from your heart – to God – and to your mom and dad. They do so much for you. Thank you is the most beautiful word in the language.”

I have noticed the great influence that blessings have on people’s hearts. God enters into their daily lives. In talks, in the catechumenate, and in sermons we can tell people that our God is close and cares for each one of us, but often it is not until a blessing is received at a time of crisis for a particular purpose that realization comes. Yes, I can rely on my God. Yes, the Church is relevant in my daily life.

Blessings have been part of Church life for a long, long time. They are mentioned in the third century Apostolic Tradition by Hippolytus. One, called in Latin Itinerarium (Going on a Journey) became popular in the sixth century when monks, such as St. Columban, were setting out on dangerous missionary journeys. I recently blessed a young student who was going overseas to attend a meeting on behalf of her university. Kaori-san had never been on a plane before nor had she ever left the country. She had never traveled alone even within Japan. The blessing had an amazing effect. Fear was replaced by trust in God. She looked forward to the experience. The Scripture reading used is from Genesis 28:21. Jacob sets out on a journey and promises, “If God will be with me and watch over me on this journey of mine till I return home, the Lord shall be my God.”

When I was pastor in the southern village of Sakitsu, the Catholic communities were all connected with fishing. Near my home town in Island Bay, New Zealand, our bishop used to bless the Italian fishing fleet every year. So in Sakitsu I held the annual blessing of boats. What a festival they made of it! All the boats were festooned with a mass of colorful flags. I remember as I went across from boat to boat each man lifted the hatch cover to allow the holy water to fall directly onto the small but vital diesel engine. The Gospel was the storm on the Sea of Galilee where Jesus calls from the fog, “Fear not, it is I,” and then creates a calm sea. The final prayer is beautiful: May Jesus lead you always to a safe harbor and to the final harbor which is Heaven.

I bless the ground before work starts at a building site. Here there is much scattering of blessed salt. There is another blessing when the roof beam is raised, and finally another when the family moves into their new home. During this blessing, a medal is put over the front entrance. I emphasize the blessing of the family altar which is very much a part of Japanese households following the Buddhist tradition. I pray with the family before the altar and urge them to keep praying before it as a family.

I also bless cars and motor bikes. Here the blessing emphasizes safe driving and road courtesy as a practical way to love one’s neighbor. Driving with thoughtfulness for others is part of living a Christian life.

And there is a blessing for the saddest of occasions when a mother loses a baby through a miscarriage, a stillbirth or sudden infant death syndrome. This blessing embraces the distraught mother with gentleness, using words like, “Comfort this woman in the emptiness which gnaws within her. God’s love seems to be contradicted. Give her hope O Lord.” The document from Rome, The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die Without Baptism (January 19, 2007), is a great help here. Prior to the release of the document from Rome, I just gave the sorrowing mother my own opinion on the limitless expanse of Abba’s tender loving kindness. Now Heaven for unbaptized babies is official!

I have found it is important to give time and care to these blessings. A perfunctory set of words is disastrous. This time is sacred for the person receiving the blessing. God is showing His personal love for this person in this particular circumstance.

I have found that blessings touch people. They feel that the gentle Jesus comes directly into their ordinary everyday lives. He really does walk the road of life with them. Through blessings Jesus says in a living voice that reaches the ears of the heart, “Fear not! I am with you.” That surely is the Good News. That is mission!

Everything is OK here in Tokyo. I was at the center house when the earthquake struck. The Procure must be one of the safest places to be in an earthquake; the walls are so thick. The only damage was the tabernacle light fell over. The quake felt very strong and went on for ages, so I kind of knew it must be far away. Plenty of aftershocks.

I was planning to go home by train. Instead caught the bus, which took two hours to get to Shibuya and then I walked home from there. All the train lines were stopped, and so millions of people walked home. There were so many people that they took over the inside lane on the major roads. The phones were overloaded so couldn’t contact anyone. Still can’t contact friends in Sendai.

I saw the devastation on TV. Terrible. Meguro church has had a little damage, nothing serious. One of the stone lanterns in the courtyard garden fell over, but I was planning to do that anyway. It had become dangerous and wanted it knocked down.

Thank you for your prayers and concern,
Peace,
Fr. Leo Schumacher

Fr. Barry Cairns

At age 79, Fr. Barry Cairns lives and works in Japan.

It all started in June 2010 with Mr. Sogen Kato of Tokyo. In the city family records, he was listed as alive and 111 years old, but he had never been seen. Police became suspicious. It turned out that 30 years ago he barricaded himself in his room in his son’s house, telling the family that he was going to become a Buddha. The family left him to it! His mummified body was found by police.

After the story broke about Mr. Kato, more and more similar cases came to light. One city health offi cial trying to trace a 108-yearold woman went to the woman’s daughter who said she had not contacted her mother in 25 years but thought she was living with her brother. The brother told officials he did not know where his mother was, or even if she were alive or dead. Another woman was registered alive at age 125 and living at a designated address. Upon investigation, the address was found to be an expressway. A Kyodo News headline on September 10, 2010, reported that at least 234,000 centenarians are missing.

Magazines, newspapers and television commentators have gone beyond the bizarre details and have challenged the Japanese people to look into these cases. The challenge they throw down is this: from ancient times we Japanese have been known for our filial piety. Is our traditional respect for the aged growing weak?

Obasute means “abandon old women.” The sign marks the spot where many years ago, the lord of the region ordered all old people in his domain to be thrown out of their homes and abandoned.

From among the people interviewed came these comments: “Look at my small apartment. I live here with my wife and two children. I respect my mother, but where could I possibly put her?” From another: “My married life is already under stress, and we could not cope with living with my aged father.”

All interviewed said that they could not afford to support aged parents in a retirement home. And from interviews with the elderly there were such comments as “I don’t want to cause inconvenience to my son and his family.” Causing inconvenience is one of the greatest social sins in Japanese society. Another said, “My daughter-in-law doesn’t like me, and I don’t like her.” Another said, “My children are not interested in me so I will stay alone in this apartment until I die.” A new word has been coined made up of three Chinese characters, kudoku-shi, meaning, to die alone. How sad!

Japanese life expectancy is the highest in the world—86 years for women, 79 years for men. In five years, 32 million, or roughly 25% of Japan’s population will be over age 65. Research says that at present 35% of those over age 65 live alone and that number will drastically increase.

Where is care for the aged to come from? This is a major worry for the elderly. Many cannot foresee being cared for by family. The care so glibly promised by political parties at election time seems very shaky. Millions of pension records have been lost. Prices rise while pensions do not. Changes in government and policies unsettle the elderly. Only the rich can afford a retirement home.

But city officials are also in a bind. They may go to the home of an aged person to check on health and welfare, but if they press the doorbell and someone answers with “it is not convenient to see you,” they must leave. The privacy laws in Japan are explicit and strict. Here is another indicator of the sad state of the aged and the breakdown of family values: in the first six months of 2010, 97 elderly people were charged by police with keeping protected wild birds illegally, especially a bird called a mejiro or white eyes. The reason they gave: “I feel lonely. Hearing the bird sing eases the pain.”

Again, the National Police Agency reports that shoplifting among the aged has increased — 27,019 cases in a year. Recently, loneliness, not financial difficulty, has been given as the reason the people were shoplifting. Japan is a rapidly aging society. Materialism and urbanization have weakened family ties. Respect for the aged and traditional care by family members is a tradition that is disintegrating. So many aged persons are hurt and lonely.

They are in prison. Jesus said, “I was in prison and you visited me…take for your heritage the kingdom prepared for you” (Matt. 25). Would that more and more people come to claim this reward for the care they bestow on the aged members of their family and society.

The article originally appears in the December 2010 issue of Columban Mission.

I came to Japan from Korea as a Columban lay missionary in 1999. After a year of language studies, I became involved as a volunteer at Saalaa, a non-governmental organization founded in 1992 to care for women and children who are victims of human trafficking and domestic violence. Saalaa offers temporary accommodation and counseling and also provides other types of living assistance to foreign women in Japan.

In its early stage, most of the trafficking victims who came to Saalaa were young Thai women in their twenties. Later, trafficking victims from other nations, such as Columbia, the Philippines, Indonesia, South Korea and Taiwan also came for support. Many of the women eventually returned to their home countries.

Columban lay missionary Soon-Ho Kim (at right) is pictured with the Saalaa staff

As time passed, the reasons for requests for assistance from Saalaa changed. As the number of cases of human trafficking decreased, the number of cases of domestic violence experienced by the foreign wives and children of Japanese husbands and fathers increased. Now, domestic violence is the main reason people look for assistance from Saalaa.

Annually, approximately 70 women and children take refuge at Saalaa. Oftentimes more families are looking for assistance than we have the means to accommodate. At the same time, Saalaa maintains a telephone hot line in seven languages in addition to Japanese, including Thai, Spanish, Portuguese, Tagalog (Bisayan), Chinese, Korean, and English. Annually, we handle about 1,000 calls on the hot line.

Consultations have to do with domestic violence, divorce, visa problems, parenting, housing and other issues. Occasionally, we also receive calls from men in distress. Since our space is limited, we have to operate the shelter and the consultation line at the same location.

During the first two years I worked as a volunteer at Saalaa, I took the night shift once a week. The shift started at 5 p.m. and continued to 10 a.m. the following morning. Once the rest of the staff went home in the evening, I had the responsibility of looking after the shelter and its residents. At that time, I did not know the residents very well, their disparate backgrounds or the reasons why they were at the shelter. My work included answering the hotline, talking with the residents, playing with the children, having dinner and watching television together. I was surprised at first by the variety of nationalities in residence as well as the variety of the foods they prepared. While sharing meals, we grew to trust each other and share our problems and concerns.

The common language was Japanese, regardless of our various nationalities. Most of the residents, like me, were not fluent in Japanese. We also had different cultural and personal backgrounds. Nevertheless, over time we discovered a common element and were able to feel empathy for each other.

That common element was the realization of our vulnerability as foreign women in Japan. Most of the residents had come to Japan without family or relatives. At the same time, they had problems. I was similar to them in many ways, especially regarding the struggle with loneliness and a feeling of helplessness. I found that sometimes our limited language skills made it easier to accept one another, express ourselves frankly and share our feelings and emotions from the bottom of our hearts.

Receiving telephone calls between 2 a.m. and 3 a.m. was one of the most difficult aspects of my work. The ringing of the telephone would wake me up from my sleep, and my heart would beat so fast, wondering what kind of problem a caller at that hour would want to share with me. I soon discovered that most of the midnight callers were not mentally balanced, and I felt that my language and counseling skills were not adequate to the task. I often wondered what advice to give to the caller.

Over the years, the experience that caused me the most stress was that of accompanying a woman about to deliver a baby. Her labor pains started at midnight, but she endured the pain until early in the morning when she woke me up. Since I had little knowledge and no personal experience of giving birth, I felt ill-equipped to deal with the matter. Fortunately, she delivered a healthy baby as soon as we arrived at the hospital.

When Saalaa started its consultation lines in 2003, I was hired as part time staff. My main responsibility was that of operating the Korean hotline. Then, four years ago, I became a full time member of the staff. Since we are a small NGO with a small staff, I now have a great variety of responsibilities. They include all the tasks connected with managing individual cases as well as supporting the organization. I am involved in finance and accounting, counseling and interpreting, even babysitting and housekeeping.

Each day is different and busy. Normally, I start the day with telephone calls from welfare offices and from different persons who are in need of advice. Occasionally, the day begins with grocery shopping. The staff rotates the responsibility of cooking lunch. When my turn comes, I often cook simple Korean food. Residents, volunteers, and members of the staff all eat at the same table, so our lunch table is filled with international dishes. Mealtime is one of the happiest moments for all of us at Saalaa.

After becoming a full time staff member, I was able to become more involved with the residents. It helped me to learn more about their situations and the problems they faced. I must say that most of our residents are very cheerful, courageous and optimistic in spite of their troubles. Some mothers who are emotionally unstable come to us for assistance. Some need medical treatment. Sometimes, their children are emotionally unstable, though the mothers may not be aware of this. Some women have a hard time understanding and explaining their condition and expressing their feelings.

Language is one of the hardest things for our residents. Most residents who are not from China or Korea cannot read or write Japanese because of the difficulty of learning the Japanese writing system, based on the Chinese characters, or kanji. Some have difficulty communicating in Japanese, despite the fact that they have lived for more than ten years in Japan. Consequently, mothers cannot follow directives provided by administrative offices and their children’s schools. We often have children coming to the shelter who cannot keep up with their studies.

During their stay at the shelter, we try to teach Japanese to the mothers and help the children with their studies. Even after the mothers and their children move out of Saalaa, we try to continue supporting them in different ways such as accompanying them to law offices for those who need legal assistance in divorce procedures, acting as interpreters, accompanying them in the processing of papers needed in ward offices for different purposes like child allowances, visa extensions at the immigration office and other concerns.

Personally, I feel blessed to have this opportunity of being together with such a devoted staff, including the volunteers and residents. At the same time, I think about how I came to Saalaa and what the meaning of my work here is. Being involved with mothers and children gives me many chances to reflect on my relationship with my own parents, especially my deceased mother. I have come to appreciate the difficulty of caring for and nurturing infants and children without having the support of any other family members, even though it must also be a joy and a comfort for mothers to have children. Basically, what all mothers want is the happiness of their children.

My own mother passed away in her thirties. I did not have any chance to talk with her about her life and whether she was happy with her husband and children. I do not remember whether she expressed her love to me in words. However, being with the mothers at the Saalaa shelter I have come to recall her love and to better understand both my mother and myself.

Columban lay missionary Soon-Ho Kim works in Japan.

This article first appeared in the August / September issue of Columban Mission.

“We need spiritual support,” the chief engineer of M/V Grand Blue, a general cargo ship, said after the Mass on board. “We thank Stella Maris for visiting us and supporting us like this,” the captain of the ship added.

When we — a Filipino priest and a Columban lay missionary — arrived at the ship at 5 p.m., the crew of the M/V Grand Blue had been waiting for us in their mess room or dining room. The mess room was filled with sixteen crew members and officers present for Mass. The dining table was covered with a white cloth and decorated with a big candle that had a small cross on it. The candle was set up on the bottom of a rice bowl which was upside down. It was simple but impressive. They prepared for the Mass with what they had on the ship and from the need in their hearts. I could feel how eagerly the crew was waiting for the Mass that day.

Columban lay missionary Soon-Ho Kim (left)

Each time I have experienced Mass on sailing vessels it has been different. Most of the time the Masses have been held in the mess room of the vessel, where we were surrounded by a rice cooker, refrigerator, television and trash cans. Next to the mess room is the galley, or kitchen. During the Mass I usually hear the noise of an engine which runs continuously, 24 hours a day, even when the vessel is in port. Most commercial cargo ships have very little space for the seafarers themselves. Sometimes Mass is celebrated on the bridge of the ship if there is no other location that will accommodate everyone who wants to attend.

Through the years, I have seldom received calls from shipping agencies when seafarers have had an accident or sudden death on a vessel while sailing. Last year we were called for a seafarer who died in a tragic accident. We met and visited with some of the crew on that vessel. When they explained what happened to their colleague, they were very sad. However, I could see the expressions on their faces change after the Mass for them and for their colleague who had died. They seemed to be relieved. Some of them started to talk. Even after straightening up after the accident, they could not sleep, and they had wanted to leave the vessel. But the Mass brought them the feeling that again they were protected by God, so they could continue their work and sleep properly.

Apostleship of the Sea (among seafarers, known as Stella Maris) has been supporting seafarers for more than 30 years in the port of Yokohama in Japan. Yokohama is the biggest port in terms of total tonnage of cargo in Japan. In one day more than 50 commercial vessels come and go through the port.

Annually more than 200,000 seafarers come to the port of Yokohama. Altogether 1.5 million seamen work there daily. In spite of the fact that they are playing a major role in the world’s economy, the seafarers appear to have been rejected by ordinary society.

Apostleship of the Sea Yokohama has been focusing on visiting ships in port including commercial vessels, general cargo ships, container ships, car carriers and others. We do not consider nationality, religion or race of the people we serve. The people we serve hail from the Philippines, China, Burma, India, Korea, some European countries, the Ukraine, Poland and Russia.

Mass in the mess room on board the ship

I did not know about this ministry before being trained by a former full time chaplain eleven years ago. I have learned that it is quite difficult for seafarers to have a chance to attend Mass. I have seen their hard work, faithfulness, commitment, openness to strangers and affection for their families in addition to their love of God through my work with AOS.

Since I began my involvement with AOS, the condition of seafarers has changed. Some aspects have improved. Unfortunately, some are getting worse. The time that the ships stay in port has been diminishing. Faster loading and discharging of cargo has become standard operating procedure which leads to very hectic schedules for those working on the ships during their time in port. I see very few ships staying even one night in port due to the fact that the more time the ship takes in port, the more the shipping company’s expenses and costs increase. Even if the vessel stays in port on a weekend with no cargo operation, the crew has daily routine duties on board, even on Sunday. No one has enough time to go ashore. Moreover, the security in port has been getting stricter which makes it difficult not only for seafarer’s shore leave but also for our visitation to ships.

Whenever I ask seafarers what the most difficult thing is with their lives, the answer is almost always the same—being away from their families. The length of an employment contract is between nine and twelve months. Recently, officers from some countries have made four and six month contracts. These shorter contracts are very few in number.

During their contract period, the seafarers are not able to contact their families very often. Even in port areas, the telephone system is different, and they cannot use their mobile phones. There are some businessmen who sell phone cards, but seafarers must still find telephone booths where they can use an international telephone card. Even when they do manage to find a public telephone near the pier area, there is usually not enough time for everyone to use it.

The Apostleship of the Sea Yokohama has changed dramatically since 2008. After the departure of the full time priest for AOS Yokahama, the diocese decided not to appoint another. Moreover, the budget for the ministry was cut. In April 2008, the Flying Angel seamen’s center was closed. The center was owned by the Anglican Church, and AOS worked out of the center.

Since April 2008, AOS Yokohama has operated without a center or even an office. Fortunately, we do have a van. Without such a vehicle we could not approach the port area and visit ships. With the van we give seafarers free transportation service to ther seamen’s clubs, shopping malls, churches, the train station and other destinations. Currently, AOS Yokohama has two people who regularly visit the ships—an American volunteer who is an “old Japan hand” and me. Several other volunteer members visit on an irregular basis. Whenever we are asked for a Mass on board, we have to find a priest. Sometimes we cannot make an arrangement for the seafarer’s request due to schedules of the priests.

Mostly, I visit ships by myself on Saturday and Sunday. My priority is visiting ships that are staying during weekends and/or at remote port areas. Seafarers’ access to commercial areas is inconvenient. It costs them a lot of money to leave the ship since using taxis is expensive. Language problems make them hesitant to go ashore.

In fact, language is one of the barriers to recruiting volunteers for this AOS work. Furthermore, amongst the general public there is a lack of knowledge about and little interest in the shipping field. Therefore, AOS struggles with an image problem as well. It is not easy for us to get the port authority, the customs office and the shipping agencies to understand our activities.

Despite struggles and difficulties, I have had many meaningful moments through this ministry. Most of the time when I visit ships, I receive a warm welcome. The seafarers on board show their hospitality and express their gratitude for our visitation. However, I think that the seafarers themselves are the ones who deserve our gratitude.

Even through adversity, God has shown us the way to continue this ministry. I sense God listens to the prayers of the crew on board so that we may continue visiting them.

Columban lay missionary Soon-Ho Kim works in Japan.
This article first appeared in Columban Mission.

Columban Father Cyril Murphy baptizes a man in Japan in 1995.

The Columban Fathers entered Japan in 1948 at the request of the bishops of Tokyo, Yokohama, Osaka and Fukuoka. The country was just beginning to recover from the devastation of World War II, and people of every class were turning to Christianity. There were great expectations for the Catholic Church.

Most of the newly arrived Columban priests, 22 by the end of 1948, were assigned to parishes, ranging from fishing villages to city centers. While the people were busy rebuilding their devastated country, so, too, Columban missionaries were busy buying sites, building and repairing churches, halls and rectories.

As life improved, the wave of interest in religion subsided. Even today there is only one Catholic for every 3,000 people. Although many Japanese admire Jesus, read the Bible and have respect for the Church’s various institutions, most are satisfied with a superficial contact.

Although assigned to parishes, Columbans always saw themselves primarily as missionaries to the unevangelized. Their parishes, with a small number of Catholics, are considered as centers for the evangelization of the thousands of unevangelized in the surrounding areas.

Over the years, Columbans have continually sought ways to meet people. Their efforts have been one-to-one or in small groups, with a view to interesting people in Christianity and the Church or at least trying to instill Gospel values in their lives.

To make contact as well as to serve the needs of people, they have established kindergartens for non-Christian children, taught English in local schools, conducted counseling services and performed marriages for non-Christian couples.

To provide opportunities for non-Christians to know Jesus Christ, a short course on Christianity was designed and is periodically promoted. An effective marriage preparation course was introduced that led to the setting up of the “Happy Family Association,” which promotes natural family planning.

Columban Father Harry O’Carroll carries a monstrance during a Corpus Christi procession in 2005 in Kumamoto City, Japan.

Through their stance on the broader issues of the dignity of human life and of peace and justice, Columbans have found opportunities to work with various organizations. At the same time they have patiently nourished the faith of their people, few though they are, so that they will give ever more effective witness to their neighbors.

They have encouraged a missionary spirit in their people, bringing them in contact with Catholics in other Columban countries. In the last 20 years, Japan has seen a growth in its foreign population, both legal and illegal. Many are Catholics from Vietnam, Latin America and the Philippines. Some Catholic communities now have more foreign members than Japanese.

The influx of foreigners has enriched the local Churches with awareness that the Catholic Church is a universal and evangelizing Church. Japanese Catholics have new opportunities to serve these fellow Catholics who encounter many problems working in a culture not their own.

To aid the new members of their flocks, Columbans have facilitated priest and lay missionaries from other countries to come to Japan.

The wave of foreign workers has provided new opportunities for cooperation between local Churches and non-Christian groups working in various ways to promote social justice.

It was just an old chair—an office chair, to be precise. I had rescued it from a rubbish collection drop-off some years previously, and it had served me well. But now I was moving to a new home and no longer needed it, so I had to dispose of it. It was too damaged to sell or even give away.

One of Japan’s 1,890 household-waste incinerators is near the Columbans’ Japan headquarters in Tokyo.

I could have put it out to be collected with the unburnable rubbish, but the company that collected the church garbage would likely charge to dispose of it. The head teacher of the Church kindergarten, who lives outside town, offered to take it home and burn it for me, but I was afraid that would produce dangerous gases, perhaps even dioxin. I finally decided to get the company to collect it, even if they charged a fee.

My two years in Komagane in Nagano were two years in paradise. Located between the central and southern Japanese Alps, the town has magnificent views and has trails that are ideal for running and hiking. The only thing I found hard to get used to was the rubbish collection system. Rubbish had to be divided into more than 20 categories. Some categories were collected every week; others were collected only every few months. The system was complicated enough to require a 28-page booklet to explain it.

Although I found it hard to work out the various categories (plastic straws on juice boxes could be burned, but the plastic cover around the straw could not), I was glad that Komagane was addressing responsible rubbish disposal.

The garbage problem in Japan is one of the world’s most severe environmental problems. Japan’s 130 million people produce about 52 million tons of garbage each year, which equates to a very high per capita rate of nearly 2.5 pounds of garbage per person each day. The nation’s dump sites are fast filling up, and some gets shipped overseas, some of it illegally. Much is illegally dumped in Japan’s mountains, many of which are remote, but some of which are close to towns.

Because of the shortage of suitable disposal sites, Japan burns as much rubbish as possible. Japan has 1,890 household-waste incinerators, the highest number, and also the highest concentration, in the world. In comparison, the United States, with more than double the population, has about 200.

Dioxin, one of the deadliest poisons known, is produced when plastics are burned. It has been linked to cancer and is suspected of disrupting the hormones that regulate biological processes such as sexual development. Many of Japan’s incinerators are pouring dioxin into the air at levels far above what most of the world considers safe. According to a 1999 United Nations report, Japan’s incinerators churn out almost 40 percent of the world’s dioxin emissions.

In the early 1980s, a Japanese scientist issued a public warning about dioxin that was ignored by Japan’s Ministry of Health and Welfare. Evidence of dioxin’s dangers accumulated, but Japan didn’t get around to setting emissions rules until 1997. Environmentalists say the rules are loose by international standards and aren’t seriously enforced.

Takagi Yoshiyuki, of the nongovernmental organization Earth Village, says the rules for the allowable amount of dioxin in soil in Japan are 100 times the amount in Canada and Sweden. He says Japan does not even regulate the amount of dioxin in food. One newspaper reported that amounts of dioxin 26 times the advisable limit have been detected in human breast milk.

Japan garbage collection and disposal, including building incinerators, is a $200 billion business, according to Takagi. The income that local governments derive from this, he says, is one reason why they are in no hurry to reduce the amount of rubbish.

Rubbish collection points in Tokyo are a common site. Bottles are placed in yellow crates while blue crates hold magazines, newspapers and corrugated cardboard. Netting is used to cover garbage that contains food scraps to prevent crows from eating it. Crows are a serious problem in many Japanese cities.

Prayer Of St. Basil
Now I am living in Tokyo. There is a large incinerator just less than a half-mile from our Columban headquarters. I wonder how much dioxin it emits?

When I think of Japan’s garbage and dioxin problem, I am reminded of the prayer of St. Basil:

“O God, enlarge within us the sense of fellowship with all living things, even our brothers, the animals, to whom Thou gavest the earth as their home in common with us. We remember with shame that in the past we have exercised the high dominion of man with ruthless cruelty so that the voice of the earth, which should have gone up to Thee in song, has been a groan of pain. May we realize that they live, not for us alone, but for themselves and for Thee, and that they love the sweetness of life.”

I think we all need to take to heart the words of some wise person whose name eludes me: “There is no ‘away.’ ‘Away’ no longer exists. We can no longer throw things ‘away.’ ” No matter where or how we dispose of something, it will have an effect on us and on the rest of the Earth.

In Japan, the spirits of the dead never seem far away. Indeed, reverence for those who have died is a distinctive characteristic of all Japanese. There is a feeling of deep gratitude to those who have gone before us and a sense of duty to keep their memory alive. Funerals, memorial rites and prayers for the dead, in addition to being a source of consolation for the bereaved, also provide assurance that the spirit of the departed will look benevolently on the living.

A Buddhist mizuko jizo statue in a cemetery in Kamakura, Japan. Photo by Onmarkproductions.com

In Japanese thought, the soul or spirit departs the body at death, but it does not go far away, at least not for a considerable period of time. They inhabit their own world, but they continue to take a keen interest in their former family and in their native place.

They are believed to return home on certain occasions throughout the year: at a mid-summer festival that corresponds to our All Souls Day and at the vernal and autumnal equinoxes. Cemeteries are spruced up, and individual graves are cleaned to welcome them.

In the Catholic Church, we follow this Japanese custom by celebrating a Memorial Eucharist in cemeteries on those days. Anniversaries of death can be commemorated for as many as 33 years, even for 50 years. After that time, the deceased enter the realm of the ancestors who will now look favorably on the fortunes of the family.

In the Japanese language and Buddhist terminology, the anniversary of death day is called meinichi (“life day”). We Christians see this as a beautiful expression of our belief that the day of death is truly the day on which a new life begins.

A Tragic Form Of ‘Population Control’
In Japanese Buddhism, the spirits of human beings live on, of course, but also the spirits of animals and inanimate objects, particularly those that have contributed in a special way to human well-being. These spirits may need to be placated from time to time.

This concept was brought home to me one evening when the proprietor of a poultry farm came to visit me. He had been suffering of late from a painful shoulder and suspected that the spirits of the chickens he had killed to supply the local stores had become vindictive. Being a Catholic, he could not go to the Buddhist temple, so he brought an offering of two dozen eggs to the church by way of atonement.

While there are funerals and memorial rites for adults and children, including the stillborn, there are neither funerals nor prayer ceremonies for those killed by abortion. Over many centuries, abortion and infanticide were common in Japan as a sporadic means of population control, particularly following calamities and natural disasters such as plagues and famines.

This custom became known as mabiki, which is a word I would use to describe my work on my father’s farm when as a youngster I would thin turnips and vegetables. Many shoots are uprooted and discarded so the remaining ones will grow healthy and vigorously.

In post-World War II Japan, the cities became overcrowded. The concentration of industry attracted more and more Japanese to urban areas, and conditions grew even worse. Living space was incredibly restricted: Individual houses were small, and apartments were even smaller. There was no room for large families.

Birth control, against which there were few ethical or moral restrictions, and abortion became the means of population control. Since that time, Japan continues to have one of the highest abortion rates in the world.

A New Type Of Memorial
A baby killed by abortion is called mizuko. The Buddhists, seeing that no memorial rights for aborted babies existed, established a temple service called mizuko kuyo; literally, a memorial service for abortion victims. In time, temples began to manufacture small statues of Jizo, one of the deities in the Buddhist pantheon. These were used as part of the memorial services and then kept in the temple.

Single statues of Jizo can be seen in shrines both in towns and the countryside throughout Japan. They can be regarded as the guardian deity of the village or community and, by extension, are the protector of the children who are the community’s future. The statues used in the memorial services for those killed by abortion are known as mizuko jizo, and hundreds are displayed in Buddhist temples.

The mizuko jizo statues are a stark reminder of the high incidence of abortion in Japan. And the proliferation of temples offering such services is a reminder of the grief and sense of responsibility felt by mothers of aborted children and of their efforts to atone for the destruction of the innocent life growing within them.

The popularity of these services must mean they provide some relief from the pain, grief, guilt and shame associated with abortion. There’s also belief that the unrequited spirit of the deceased child, denied the blessing of life, could become vindictive.

An Angel In Disguise
In a surprising way, this Buddhist right solved an unusual problem for me one day when four young Filipino women arrived at my door. One of the women had given birth to a stillborn baby and didn’t know where to turn. They placed a jar of formaldehyde holding the baby on my table.

I learned that the baby could not be buried or cremated without a permit, which could be issued only when a doctor presented a death certificate. Since no doctor was present at the birth, an autopsy was needed to determine if the baby was, indeed, stillborn.

There were many other complications. The teen-age mother was in Japan on an entertainment visa and worked as a club hostess.

Her contract stipulated that she would be paid a lump sum after the contract was fulfilled and was living on her tips plus a small weekly allowance from her employer. If her pregnancy became known, she would be repatriated in disgrace and without her earnings.

Furthermore, being underage, she had come to Japan under an assumed name and falsified passport. Clearly, ordinary procedures were not an option.

Eventually, a Japanese solution was found. A Japanese member of our parish with connections contacted a medial clinic that had arrangements with a Buddhist temple to provide memorial rites for victims of abortions. For a fee, he agreed to include the stillborn baby among the remains to be cremated.

The young mother and her friends went to the temple and were given a statue of mizuko jizo for the child she had named Angel. Best of all, she herself received excellent medical attention in strictest confidence.

She returned to the temple a few times. I imagine that, among the rows of mizuko jizo statues, she saw her Angel in one quiet, secluded corner of that ancient temple.

Columban Father Michael Molloy of Ireland serves a Columban parish in Kumamoto City. He was ordained in 1960 and has been a missionary in Japan, China and the United States.

On July 16, 1948, fellow Columban Father Francis Hunter and I landed in heavily war-scarred Kobe with rubble and bombed-out buildings everywhere. Then, it was off to Yokohama where, after a few days, we were sent to Fukuoka, the first of many Columbans to join the diocese of Bishop Dominic Fukahori.

Columban Father James Norris celebrated his farewell Mass in Fukuoka, Japan.

More than 50 years have passed, and where has the time gone? It seems only yesterday—actually January 6, 1950—that the bishop sent me a formal Latin document assigning me to Hitoyoshi Church, his first appointment of a Columban within his diocese.

Apart from six years in Óisó and Chigasaki and six months in Yokohama, I have spent the remaining 50 years here in Fukuoka.

As I look back over this half-century, my predominant feeling is joy and gratitude to God, the Japanese Christians and to my Columban confreres.

The Comfort Of Friends
A celibate missionary is essentially on his own and, in my experience, if I would have been without a close relationship with the Lord, the loneliness at times would have overwhelmed me. But, in addition to prayer, a man still needs human friendship.

This is where my Japanese friends have been invaluable. There have been times when I have been chided for leaning more on them for support than on my fellow Columbans. If I have offended in this matter, I can only apologize.

My sole excuse would be that, back in the ’50s, a man seldom saw another Columban. I got into the early habit of relying heavily on my Japanese friends; otherwise I don’t think I could have survived.

But, all the while, the solid Columban family structure was a deep source of comfort and emotional stability. I am reminded of my childhood when, as a hyperactive lad, I spent most of the day outside, rushing around, playing with my mates and enjoying life. But it wouldn’t have been possible unless there were a warm home to return to in the evening.

Now in my 80s, I am discovering this Columban family structure is slowly disintegrating. Lately, undoubtedly due to a number of factors—age, cold weather, 12 years in this parish, the lack of stimuli—the isolation and loneliness of my situation have hit me as never before.

Whatever I was experiencing, it hollowed me out to the roots of my being. It was grace that allowed me to savor as never before what it means to be created from nothing. The thought of God’s love holding me in existence was one conviction that kept me going.

Ironically, my good physical health has probably aggravated my feelings. If I had a number of ailments to distract me, possibly I shouldn’t have become so mentally agitated. At all events, I felt the Lord was telling me something: My job here is done; time to fold up the tent and move on.

A ‘Spoiled’ Priesthood
Looking back, I realize the Lord and the Columbans have “spoiled” me. First, I have had good health for more than 80 years.

Second, as a member of the first wave of Columbans to arrive in 1948, I became a parish priest at age 26. There was no one ahead of us, with more experience to tell us what to do, so we were free to make our own way. The groups who came after us were not so fortunate.

I am also most grateful for being allowed to remain in Japan for 56 years without being asked to perform other mission work elsewhere, as many Columbans are asked to do.

I sometimes am asked how I see the role of the Columbans within the Japanese Church and what the future holds.

In the 16th century, the Jesuits and the Franciscans planted the seed of the faith. For some 250 years, that seed was preserved by Japanese lay Christians until the arrival of the Paris Foreign Missionaries in the Meiji era.

After World War II, we built upon the foundations laid by the French priests. Like them, we are handling parishes that we have developed over to Japanese clergy.

Since the war, all 16 of Japan’s dioceses have been served by Japanese bishops. The Japanese are now capable of caring for the Japanese Church.

Our work here is done. Our remaining role is to fill areas of need where there are not enough Japanese priests.

Words cannot convey adequately what a man feels when he pulls up his roots and leaves Japan after 56 years. The Japanese Church and my Columban colleagues will continually be in my thoughts, prayers and Masses.

Fr. James Norris retired in 2004 to live with his family in his native New Zealand.

It was autumn of 1983 when I had a chat outside our little church with one of the prominent ladies in the parish of Koshi in Kumamoto City. She was worried about her teen-age daughter, who suffered from some mild physical handicaps. I asked her if she ever went before Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament and shared her worries with Him. “What?” she said in a shocked voice. “Surely you don’t believe that!”

Fr. Harry O’Carroll carried a monstrance as he led a Corpus Christi procession in Kumamoto City.

That was the end of our chat! I was stunned. Here was one of the leading members of the parish community, and she did not believe in the real presence of Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. How many more were like her?

As a means of deepening faith in the Blessed Sacrament, and as an act of reparation, we decided to hold a quiet hour of adoration every Thursday evening for those who were interested.

The next Thursday, a few people in the softly lit, silent church adored the Sacred Host exposed on the altar.

Within a year, Koshi joined with two other parishes to form the new Musashigaoka Parish. We moved to a big, new church and presbytery. The adoration moved with us.

After awhile, we started a study group that began each evening in a room just off the chapel where the adoration was winding down. An interesting thing happened: people who came to the study group a bit early would sit in the soft silence until the meeting started. They then began to come earlier and earlier until eventually they were there at the start of the adoration.

Sitting quietly every week before our Lord gave them the gift of deep faith. All were baptized and became powerful Christians. Soon, the adoration attracted Christians from the other parishes in the city. It was obvious that Our Lord was pouring wonderful gifts on those who came to spend time in His presence.

Inspired Foolishness
While vacationing in my native Ireland, I spent a lot of time with family members in Letterkenny, which was one of the first places in Ireland to hold perpetual adoration in the parish. The adoration goes on day and night, except for weekends.

Two parishioners knelt before the Holy Eucharist during the perpetual adoration at the Kengun Parish of St. Columban in Kumamoto City.

Soldiers, farmers, policemen, nurses, shopkeepers, doctors, housewives, students and retired folks take responsibility for every hour. I often would drop in and started thinking how we could do this in Japan. Most of our parishes are too small to contemplate around-the-clock adoration, but I thought we could do it if the Kumamoto City’s five parishes cooperated.

The five churches have a great history of cooperation and are blessed with wonderful lay leaders who thought the perpetual adoration was a great idea. The plan was developing smoothly until they realized that we weren’t talking about one week, but about an adoration that lasted for years.

Once they got over that shock, however, they were twice as enthusiastic. Perhaps it was the apparent foolishness of the whole thing. Imagine asking people to get out of their beds on a

winter’s night to spend an hour in some church week after week. Only God could inspire such foolishness!

‘An Indispensable Part’
On August 15, 1995, Japan was to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the end of World War II. We decided that instead of giving a halfhearted tip of the hat to the occasion with yet another “event,” why not begin the perpetual adoration of our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament day and night for peace in our lives, families, country and world?

That was how the idea was sold. One of the five parishes, the Kengun Parish of St. Columban, already had a small Blessed Sacrament chapel, which was easy to heat and cool.

The public transportation trams and buses stopped right outside, so it became the center for the adoration.

We had to get permission from the bishop, who could hardly refuse. He came to me quietly and asked me to do my best to keep it going for six months. I guess he was afraid it would be a flop, and that, of course, would be a big loss of face.

However, with the powerful grassroots work of the lay leaders and the generous cooperation of other Christians, Sisters from local convents and many priests, the adoration was launched on August 15 nearly ten years ago—ten years of prayer for peace and all the other things people pray about.

“How is the adoration going?” I asked Takagi Hiroshi-san, a retired businessman who began the practice with some misgivings.

“To tell you the truth,” he said, “it has become an indispensable part of my week.”

Kobayashi-san, an elderly lady, quite crippled by arthritis, faithfully kept her weekly appointment with our Lord.

On ordinary days, even walking to the bus stop was out of the question for her.

“Every week when the day for adoration comes, I am always blessed with a strange strength to walk to and from the bus,” she wrote.

Both parishioners now continue their perpetual adoration of Our Lord in Heaven.

As parishioners have aged and died, the adoration is now only a 24-hour session each Thursday. Some churches outside Kumamoto City also began the practice of having a few hours of perpetual adoration one day a week.

In the small mountain parish of Hitoyoshi, where I am now, the adoration takes place from 1 to 5 every Saturday afternoon.

Our Source Of Energy
One of the sad facts of our world today is the apparent loss of faith in the real presence of Our Lord in the Eucharist and the great decline in Mass attendance. St. John Vianney said, “to sustain the soul in the pilgrimage of life, God looked over creation, and found nothing that was worthy of it. He then turned to Himself, and resolved to give Himself. O my soul, how great thou art, since nothing less than God can satisfy thee!”

This is surely the faith and perception of those who participate in the growing phenomenon of Eucharistic adoration worldwide.

Why go to Mass on Sunday? You could say that for those with faith, no answer is necessary, while for those without faith, no answer is possible. You also could say that if we believe, then the question might well be why we aren’t at Mass every day. A Protestant gentleman once told me, “If I could believe what Catholics believe, I would never leave the chapel.”

The Eucharist is the food and source of energy for our Christian life. Mother Teresa’s Sisters begin their day with Mass and an hour’s adoration. She said, “We go to meet Christ in the Eucharist before we go out to meet Him on the streets.”

I don’t know where that lady with the handicapped daughter is now on her journey of faith, but I believe what she set in motion that day has turned into a magnificent gift of prayer and praise throughout our neck of the woods. Yes, God is great!

Columban Father Harry O’Carroll of Ireland was ordained in 1969 and first went to Japan on mission the following year.