A Little Japanese Tea Ceremony

By Elizabeth Brooke-Carr in Articles

The importance of rituals

A Little Japanese Tea Ceremony

Joe Bennett has taken a nip at the ankles of The Church. In his 'Sleeping Dogs' column in the Otago Daily Times (March10, 2011) he wrote that he was "more than usually annoyed at senior church people getting in on official ceremonies and offering thanks upstairs" after the earthquake. He also pointed out the fallacy of belief in a loving and omnipotent god who has been particularly severe on churches while leaving the casino standing. Predictably, there have been yelps from all quarters in response. I'm not sure who is on shakier ground - Joe Bennett or God's representatives? But I will let sleeping dogs lie while I unleash a few thoughts of my own about ceremonies.

Ritual can be a great source of comfort when you are feeling helpless. Before I sat down with that wonderful solace, a nice cup of tea, to join the community of television viewers and the summer crowd gathered in Hagley Park, Christchurch, for the commemoration of events set in motion by the February 22nd earthquake, I lit two candles. During the two-minute silence I stood alone in my living room with my eyes on the flames, one for Christchurch, and one for Japan. At times the golden flares lengthened and grew steady, glowing brightly as if with hope; at other times the flames caught an unseen shift of air, a slight breeze, perhaps, and they wobbled and staggered a little as if trying hard to stay upright against powerful forces. Although the candles sat close together on the mantelpiece they burned differently, occasionally in unison, but mostly they flickered and glowed, dimmed and danced in their own individual candle ways.

Further along the mantelpiece my father's eyes gazed out at me from a framed photograph. I thought of his post-war prejudice for anything Japanese, and I wondered what he would have made of his daughter lighting candles, weeping simultaneously for Japan and Christchurch, mingling tea and tears as she felt for the loss of so many lives, and for our beautiful, broken landscapes in foreign and familiar parts of the world? I'd like to think that if my father were still alive he'd be 'over it' by now, that his bigotry, sprung so profoundly from fear, would have morphed into something more mellow and tolerant. But who knows?

What matters is that everything changes, all the time - attitudes, theology, politics, tectonic plates - all shift, with or against our will. Nothing stays the same forever because we live in a dynamic world. Sometimes changes jolt and shake, upsetting our stasis, or our sense of how things ought to be. Sometimes they occur almost imperceptibly without our being aware of the shifting process until we look back and compare the 'then' with the 'now'. But, however it happens, we have to learn to tolerate and accommodate the changes. A very different proposition from accepting them, I hasten to add. There will be few individuals who have never felt the sting of bigotry or never expressed some kind of personal prejudice themselves. Sexism, racism, and ageism along with a multitude of other 'isms' flourish in our communities and feed intolerance. Solutions are difficult and closed minds notoriously tricky to prise open.

Ritual can help. It has a way of bringing together the fearful or the dissenting; and it offers the potential for inclusive and positive connection, of being present to the moment in whatever ways we can. The robust organisation of the Christchurch commemoration ceremony with its framework of comforting words and wisdom from dignitaries and community leaders alike, provided an opportunity for all to meet and stand strong, to feel embraced and revitalised for whatever lies ahead.

Other groups too, meet for ordinary or extraordinary business often with a set agenda, and follow the ritual conventions of addressing the chair in order to reach a resolution. All sorts of rituals are woven into our lives, some so familiar and safe that we follow the steps routinely. The simple act of pouring boiling water onto tea leaves, letting it steep, and sipping the hot brew, alone or with company helps us to go forward feeling revived. At best we may feel enlightened.

In Japan, 'the way of tea' is an ancient and transformative practice that encourages self-cultivation, serenity and harmony with nature - a huge and present irony for those so cruelly assaulted by natural forces in the recent tragedy. However, ritual is a way of restoring order to chaos, of doing something in the face of helplessness. Outdoors or indoors, in a park or a parish hall, a living room, a marae or on a tatami mat - anywhere, if we are open to it - ritual has the transformative power to centre our thoughts and ease a heavy heart in turbulent and uncertain times. Joe Bennett may have no time for ceremonies that include giving thanks upstairs but I wonder what he would say to a nice cup of tea?
One sugar or two, Joe?

Elizabeth Brooke-Carr

This item was first printed as a Connections article in the Parish Weekly Bulletin, April 17, 2011.