What do you know about Japanese music? One of these things might come to your mind:

1.     If you don’t know anything about Japanese music, you’re probably thinking about sumo wrestlers and ninjas hollering “Banzai!” at the top of their lungs. Or karaoke.

2.     If you’re into manga and Japanese anime you’ll have no problem listing a few J-pop bands like Exile or Bump of Chicken, probably even a few Korean groups that are popular in Japan.

3.     The folks with a scholastic background might think of indigenous instruments like the koto or shamisen, or traditional Japanese songs that are endeared by the retired Japanese population. Enka.

4.     If you’re super eclectic about music you may know the stray Japanese punk or indie band that’s trying to make it big out of their parents’ garage.

5.     But NONE of you would say “gospel.”

Little does anyone know that gospel music in Japan is a steadily growing genre among middle age Japanese. I don’t have any written facts to back that up, just my personal observations from attending concerts and talking with various people.

When I first came to Japan I learned that one of our teachers was the leader and director of a gospel group that met twice a month at the community center. It was a sprightly group of about 12 members. Sometimes more, sometimes less. This group has been meeting for 3-4 years singing at community events for occasional performances. The repertoire is exclusively religious though spanning a noticeable range of “gospelness.” For example, the stereotypical “Go Down, Moses” makes way for the old hymn “Amazing Grace” yet charges through to contemporary gospel compositions and arrangements like “Lord, You are Good.” For a nation largely ignorant of Christianity and its roots, it was very surprising to learn of the popularity of gospel music.

Japan is known for intricacy and devotion in their work and civilian lives. They are proud to be set apart by their uniqueness and cohesiveness as a people—it’s how they survive. They are also adept at taking foreign ideas and physical items and modifying them to fit in a Japanese world. Actually, it’s more like evolving these things to become acceptable to Japanese mainstream. Gospel is no exception, and since the religious and personal meaning of gospel music is largely lost in translation it becomes simply a musical experience. The lyrics are an exercise of English pronunciation, the beat a test of clapping on 2&4, the music a beautiful arrangement of harmonies and breakout soloists, and the style a step outside the comfort zone as they’re encourage to stomp, sway, and follow the leader’s arm movements. These musical differences are indeed an enticement to the average housewife looking for an hour out of the house, or the hard-working office lady in need of a fun hobby with good friends. The retired fellows add one more activity to fill their weekly schedules. The people who attend gospel are well-meaning, kind-hearted, and very interested in gospel music. They love learning the interpretations, singing in either Japanese or English, and love filling the air with beautiful sound. However gospel has not escaped the ruthless evolutionary gauntlet imposed on all foreign entries. It has been stripped of religious significance and set up as “just another genre” that anyone can sing successfully if the right amount of practice and devotion is dedicated. If you’ve been to Japan I hope your experience has been like mine; Japanese people on the whole are very kind, thoughtful, helpful, and go above and beyond our American standards of service and sometimes even humanity. Gift wrapping in a store is expected. Giving someone directions means you TAKE them to that place, even if it’s out of your way. They’ve made an entire industry in omiyage, which is bringing back presents and treats to your entire office and every one in every group you are affiliated with (PTA, boy scouts, piano teacher, gospel choir members). I recently bought a stack of books in Tokyo and the store offered to send them anywhere in Japan for me for free so I wouldn’t have to carry them home on the train.

I do not doubt the intentions of Japanese gospel singers; they want to be fully participating and understanding of gospel music. My point is that Japanese people are very accommodating and friendly, and they tend to add things instead of delete them to avoid confrontation and save face.

Oh, you can’t make English class anymore because you added a math class to improve your failing grades? Let’s just not show up anymore but keep the name on the roster so that it looks like you still want to take English classes. At the end of the year you can formally withdraw.

Oh, you have conflicting schedules between hula dance class and photography? Just do half-time at both of them so that we can see you're really trying to be there.

Oh, you have Shinto and Buddhist beliefs? That’s cool. You should join a Christian gospel choir to even things out.

Now, I’m being a little sarcastic but don’t make the mistake of thinking these things don’t happen…because they do. To my knowledge, none of the Japanese members in our gospel choir are Christians. They know my American friends and I are believers in Christ and they understand that the message of gospel music is to essentially proclaim Christ’s love for the world. However, in true Japanese fashion they take the parts they want and change it to fit their culture. You don’t have to believe it on the inside as long as the outside looks compliant and harmonious.  

Link: Christianity in Japan

I am happy to share my deepest beliefs with anyone who has an interest and sharing it through music is even more desirable. I love music! I’m not regretful at all of being a part of gospel choir or even now as the director, leading the choir through each practice session and teaching the pronunciations and meaning of the lyrics. The part that makes me most sad is that there is no feeling behind the words. There is no belief in the power of God. There is no heart singing praise to the Lord of Creation, no lips uttering thanks to Jesus for taking the responsibility of death for our wrongdoing against a righteous God, no hands raised reverently in awe of the love of Christ. Instead there are voices filling the air with sound. There are eyes carefully watching me, copying my movements in effort to be in sync with the group. There are swaying bodies and hands tenaciously waving in the air to mimic the gospel groups they’ve seen on youtube.

No heart. No soul. No emotion.

Is that not the epitome of all music ever? It doesn’t inherently belong to the gospel genre, but any musician who is void of those three things can be immediately spotted and blacklisted by the casual listener. As the leader of Funehiki Gospel Choir, practices can be a little disheartening when the music becomes no more than notes on a page.

A member of my choir is very dedicated to gospel music and frequently attends workshops and concerts. She informed me of a particular one in nearby Iwaki, though not being able to attend herself another choir member and friend, Manri, went with me. We drove out to the coastal town previously ravaged by the tsunami and cast into tourism darkness because of the nearby reactor crisis. Tourism is back on track with the reopening of The Hawaiians, and the beach is cleaned and ready for swimmers and surfers…though it was somewhat lacking visitors that holiday morning. We walked along the beach picking up shells for my garden decorations. We saved a starfish from certain death in the shallows and sent it back to the ocean after taking a few pictures with our textured friend. The waves were shallow and strong, the gulls flew overhead with their familiar high calls. I looked out to the east as far as I could see to say hello to America…somewhere out there. After learning how to say, “This is a broken shell. This is not a broken shell,” in Japanese and walking along the beach for a few hours we returned to downtown Iwaki and into the concert hall. Looking at the program I realized the enormity of the concert. 4 hours long, no intermission. The entire northern region of Japan sent local choirs to the festival and because of the sheer number of people involved, they had to conglomerate into 4 mass choirs of no less than 100 people each. The kids had their own choir. The city of Iwaki had their own choir of 300 people. In my opinion they completely defaced the meaning of gospel by singing “Heal the World” by Michael Jackson and another song by Elton John. Anyways. Between these mass choirs were selected performers: hula dancers (having NOTHING to do with gospel but significant to the town), a combo enka/gospel group (purely entertainment value), and a couple from American who make their living singing gospel music. They were legit.

After sitting through the first half of the concert I couldn’t help but wonder how many people actually believed what they were singing. How many people actually understood the lyrics of the songs? I’m not gonna lie, “Christianese” is the set of words that are typically used in the church and not easily understood or related to people with no church background.

When the black American couple took the stage, they didn’t hold back. Musically and performance-wise they were great. They had the band, the lights, the matching costumes, the energy. They got the audience on their feet and encouraged singing along to the projected words on the screen. I didn’t need the words, I knew “Lord, You are Good” by heart and even learned a signed interpretation of it. It was here the mood switched, not only in the room but in my heart. For the first time in Japan, I was standing with a crowd singing praises to Jesus in my native language. When I say crowd I mean the hundreds of people who filled the concert hall, not the ten of us Americans who meet each Sunday evening. 

 All the complaining I’ve done in this blog doesn’t address the fact that there were in fact Japanese Christians who attended the concert and sang in gospel choirs. Now that those people were standing in front of their chairs and not on an obligatory riser on stage I could see and feel those willing hearts around me. At first the crowd was singing loudly and clapping, then the clapping subsided slightly as many of us raised our hands in worship. The words of this song will never mean more to me than they did at that moment:

“People from every nation and tongue, from generation to generation we worship You for who You are: You are good. Lord, You are good and Your mercy endureth forever.”

These were people whose lives had been destroyed by the recent earthquake and tsunami, lost friends and relatives, lost their jobs and had to move, lost their homes and live in temporary housing. People who are the minority, the 1% of the population who believe in a God and a faith that doesn’t have roots in their country or culture. People praising God in another language, sharing the experience with foreigners like me all for the sake of God’s love and unity in Christ. I became aware of my own inhibitions, my own fears of fully following God. I recognized my own shallowness and judgmental behavior. I saw myself drawn up and in, protecting myself from being broken. In fact it was brokenness required of me to become healed by God the Healer, willingness to be led by Him during my remaining time in Japan. I still don’t understand many Japanese behaviors and social rationale and probably never will, but I can love people and share my experiences with them; I can share the gospel that I have in my heart and show the love of God through my actions.  

I didn’t even care that we sang the same line over and over again; I didn’t want it to stop ever. I just wanted to continue with my brothers and sisters in Christ, praising our Audience of One.

That’s the day I found God in Japan. He was here all along, waiting for me to worship Him with all my heart, soul, and emotion. 

6am. Why do I do this to myself?

Though the threat of rain pervaded the forecast, I packed my newly purchased rain coat, pants, and gaiters, and trekked out into the wilderness of the Adatara mountain range alone.

Well, not really a wilderness, more like a well-marked trail of red and white targets. And not alone either because Eric braved the elements and went with me on our new adventure.

I tried to get reservations on a bus that would take us directly to the trailhead but called to late to secure the tickets. Thus, we took two trains and a bus that dumped us 5km from the trailhead.  At the train station I spotted a group of senior citizens grouped in a corner dressed in outdoor clothes and carrying cameras. I thought, “they might be climbing the mountain too, and if they have a tour bus maybe we can jump on with them! We walked over and I struck up a conversation with a pleasant-looking man. He told me the group was on it’s way to a hydrangea garden, what fun! He was super excited about it, telling me how everyone in the group was around 70 but they were still in great health. Their tour started to get underway so we sat down at the bus stop and watched them walk past. Have you ever seen a Japanese tour group in the States? They have their little flags in the front and back to mark the group and ensure no one gets lost. Well, they do it in their own country too! Not only were the front and back people carrying flags, but also 5 people dotted throughout the middle of the hoard. Awesome.

I taught Eric how to ride the bus and it dropped us off on a very clean and attractive street. 

We started walking and hoped to thumb a ride up the rest of the way. After all, the only attraction on this windy mountain road was the resort and trail at the end of it. I’d say our odds are in favor of a passing motorist who is also climbing the mountain and willing to give us a lift. 6 cars later, I started to rethink my strategy. Eric gave some advice: you have to walk backwards and look at the people passing you. Give them your best puppy dog face that says, “I’ll die on this mountain if you don’t pick me up.” I tried it. Another car passed that was completely empty!

I tried again. Car full of people. Okay, I can’t help that one.

Next car: two guys in the front pull over and open the sliding door, telling us to jump in. If this was America, no thanks. But we’re not in America now so without hesitation we jumped in the back and enjoyed a leisurely ride up the road to the trailhead. Win number 1.

It wasn’t raining but the entire mountain was buried in the clouds. As we started up the loop trail we passed some little waterfalls and lush greenery. There were two trails, the new and the old. The old trail looked more like a river bed going over tree roots, and the new one was wide enough to accommodate a small car. Rounding a bend in the road we stopped in our tracks, face to face with the largest rabbit/hare I’ve ever seen! It snuck into the bushes just as I whipped out my camera. Our car trail quickly turned into a more narrow trail with a stream running down the center. Then, we were pretty much walking up the stream. It was very wet and muddy, but very beautiful. The mist made things seem further than they appeared and we couldn’t see the top of the mountain to gauge our distance. It was probably just as well because we had a long ways to go! The earth was a beautiful reddish yellow color and there were plenty of volcanic rocks to pick through on the trail. It made me wish I had paid more attention during the geology portion of Earth Science class…almost. 

Mounting a false summit the trees and bushes thinned and piles of rocks instead were the only terrain markers. On the larger rocks a large red and white targets had been painted to mark the trail. There were many of them for good reason because the dense clouds made it difficult to look ahead. We rounded a corner and found river gushing at the bottom of a ravine. The opposite side, covered in cloud, was the summit. 

Heigh Ho! As we got within 200 yards of the summit I prayed, “God, Could you part the clouds for us?” And guess what happened? Oh yeah, parting of the clouds for Eric and I to see the ginormous crater! We left the crater area and the clouds came back. Uh huh. 

We took a short spur trail to the rocky top. The actual summit of Adatara was pretty cloudy though I can imagine what kind of a view would be had on a clear day. This mountain is in a prime position to see 360 degrees of the mid-Tohoku region. We couldn’t even see her close neighbor Bandai-san (which I summited a few weeks ago). There were so many bugs up there that we just took a few pictures and came down to the main trail to eat lunch.  Peanut butter on English muffins. Mmmm.

I was surprised at the number of trail runners we passed. These hard-core athletes were running along the ridges like it was a warm-up! I’d like to do that someday if I can stay uninjured for a period of time. We continued the loop down the mountain until we got to the gondola junction. My legs were a little tired but not finished. We decided to flip a coin and ended up walking down the rest of the trail leaving the gondola car empty. If I had known the condition of the trail I’m not sure I’d have made the same decision twice! Because of the past three rainy days the trail was completely soaked and muddy. It became twice as steep as the previous section of trail and I slipped several times despite our slow pace and using trekking poles. I busted out my gaiters for fun…and it was fun! I felt impenetrable! We finally made it back to the parking lot and looked out into the valley which was now sunny and blue skies. The lodge area had some hoses and a brush to wash our muddy boots (which made it easier to thumb a ride).

The very first car that came down the mountain stopped, though warily, to pick us up. Actually, they were probably wondering if we needed help because they didn’t offer to take us anywhere. The passenger seat lady stuck her head out the window and looked at us silently and waiting.

“Um, excuse me. Are you going to Dakeonsen or Nihonmatsu train station?”

She relayed the information to the man driver. He said no.

She told me no.

“Oh, okay, thank you.”

The man said to the lady, “Oh, I know where it is.”

They had a conversation about whether or not they could go there and how far away it was (5km).

“Yes, we’re going there.”

Awkward silence.

“Um, can we come with you?”

Another conversation passed between them as if they’d never known we were hitchhiking. Isn’t the thumbs-up thing international?

The lady in the passenger seat looked us over and said, “You can get in the back….but take off your shoes!”

They were so nice they actually took us past the bus stop and all the way to the train station. We arrived with 5 minutes to spare before the next train to Koriyama. Excellent.

So, after the long day of hiking and hitching I learned some valuable things:

1. Clean hikers are more likely to be picked up.

2. Hikers who speak Japanese can weasel a ride.