Since its “opening” in 1854 by U.S. Navy Commodore Matthew Perry, Japan often has been defined in the West by a single, simple image.
Sometimes that image has been one of exotic, romantic tradition (a samurai or a geisha); sometimes it has been the image of technophilic hypermodernity (a bullet train or a robot). Over the past week, Japan has been visually defined in television and online news accounts by the imagery of disaster: flooded fields and streets, bodies and vehicles washed ashore, nuclear power plants exploding, and houses afire.
Disaster looms large in the Japanese cultural imagination. Even casual consumers of Japanese media are aware of the nation’s appetite for apocalypse, as seen in films from 1954’s Gojira (Godzilla) to 2006’s Nihon Chinbotsu (Japan Sinks), not to mention anime (cartoon) and manga (comic book) series such as Akira and Sunabōzu (Desert Punk). What the average Godzilla or anime fan may not realize, however, is how deeply rooted Japanese perceptions of disaster are in traditional Japanese religious culture.
In traditional Japanese religion (not only Shintō but also forms of Buddhism as well as hybrid and new religious movements), kami (deities) are entities of great power and unpredictable, even nonexistent morality. As the influential religious thinker Motoori Norinaga (1730-1801) wrote:
The changing of spring and fall, the falling of rain and tempest of wind, all things good and evil which may befall men and lands, one and all are the doings of the kami…. Among the kami are good and evil, and their doings are likewise in accord with that nature…. When provoked, a good kami may erupt in rage, while evil kami may soften their hearts when happy, and it is not entirely inconceivable that they might even bestow blessings on humans. And although people may not realize it, the actions [of a kami] which may at first be thought evil, in fact turn out good, while those first thought to be good, may in fact turn out evil.
Many a Japanese apocalyptic drama or disaster movie has perpetuated this ambiguous concept of the sacred. Much like kami, Godzilla has been depicted as both an agent of destruction and a powerful protector who both menaces and saves Japan, depending on the film in question. Interestingly, in the original Godzilla film, nuclear radiation is said to have been responsible for creating the mutated prehistoric menace that is Godzilla, while in Japan Sinks, nuclear warheads are used to detonate portions of sea floor, thrusting the flooded Japanese islands back up above sea level. Thus, whether one speaks of supernatural figures, fictional monsters, or contemporary technology, power in Japan is cloaked in moral ambiguity, and it ultimately teaches human beings important lessons about the limits of their own power as well as their own hidden resources.
Unlike practitioners of Western religious traditions such as Christianity, Islam, or Judaism, who may struggle with why a good God would permit evil to exist, traditional Japanese religious communities have tended to turn such moral reflection inward. Instead of asking why disaster occurs or whether it confirms divine justice, one often hears those influenced by Japanese religious traditions asking how they should respond to disaster and how that disaster might lead to self-cultivation and self-transformation. Phrases customarily uttered by Japanese during moments of crisis, such as gaman (“putting up with it”) and ganbatte (“do your best!”), reveal the faith that they often place in the healing and redemptive power of suffering as an occasion for both the strengthening of collective bonds and the development of personal character.
The ideas, institutions, and practices associated with Confucianism and Buddhism, in particular, reinforce the notions that individuals exist interdependently with others as members of a group and that people carry within themselves deep wellsprings of spiritual potential that can be actualized through self-effacing behavior and collective discipline. In medieval Japan, the experience of disaster both confirmed people’s sense that they were living in the era of mappō (“decline of the Buddhist teaching,” a degenerate period in which salvation was increasingly difficult to attain) and encouraged them to seek relief in either the tariki (“other-power” of merciful beings such as Amida Buddha) or the jiriki (“self-power”) of their own latent Buddha-nature. Either way, disaster could be transformed into an opportunity for cultivating one’s gratitude and fortitude in service to others.
In many ways, Japan is one of the world’s most secular societies. By Western standards of religiosity (personal belief, individual membership, embrace of doctrines and scriptures), most Japanese do not appear to be very “religious.” But when monstrosity strikes, the character of a culture is revealed. In the case of Japan, the imagery of disaster also includes the visage of a Buddha, reflected in the faces of millions of ordinary Japanese standing in line for aid, searching ruins for loved ones, and lending a helping hand to others: calm, compassionate, and concentrated. Such an image still inspires Japanese and others who cope with the inevitable loss and suffering that living and dying as impermanent, interdependent beings entails.
Jeffrey L. Richey is director of the Asian studies program and associate professor of religion at Berea College in Kentucky.
Shaun Casey is professor of Christian ethics at Wesley Theological Seminary.
CASEY: What people need to be looking for, particularly with respect to Libya, is to what extent are war crimes being committed, are innocent people being directly targeted, is there something approaching genocide occurring on the ground at this point?
CASEY: Nobody is going to say, “Well, you have to have 50,000 people die before we go in.” So you have to take it case by case, and certainly in a situation like Rwanda, where hundreds of thousands of people were butchered, in retrospect you’d say, oh my goodness, of course that was on a scale that would’ve justified intervention.
You have to hear the reading of the Book of Esther. 
BROTHER ARNOLD HADD: As long as we do God’s work I believe in the essence of my soul that there will always be vocations sent to this way of life.
SISTER FRANCES: We think of Father-Mother God, not just as God as a Father.
ABERNETHY: Shakers were widely admired for their craftsmanship, such as graceful chairs and other furniture—also for their hundred or more inventions, such as the flat broom.
ABERNETHY: And then came the singing. Shakers are said to have 10,000 songs, of which the most famous in “Simple Gifts”:
SISTER FRANCES: Usually those who have been here and have left have found it too regimented.
ABERNETHY: I asked Sister Frances about the friends of the Shakers. Might some of them become converts?
REP. KEITH ELLISON (D-MN): It’s true that specific individuals, including some who are Muslims, are violent extremists. However, these are individuals, not entire communities. When you assign their violent actions to the entire community, you assign collective blame to a whole group. This is the very heart of stereotyping and scapegoating.
LAWTON: Throughout the week, religious groups mobilized around the hearing. In New York, interfaith supporters joined thousands of Muslims who rallied to show their support for America and their opposition to violence in the name of religion. A smaller counter-rally alleged that Muslims are linked to terrorism, and some in the faith community said Congress should be looking into this.
REV. MICHAEL KINNAMON (General Secretary, National Council of Churches): I can imagine hearings that would come under the heading of the role of religion in promoting violent extremism that would be able to address the real problem, not a group of people the vast, vast majority of whom have nothing to do with the problem, but rather are part of the solution.
GUSTAV NIEBUHR (Syracuse University): Well, it’s really an extraordinary moment and somewhat ironic, too, given that the dominant images of Muslims are people fighting for freedom and human rights in North Africa at this point. But in terms of the United States, it says that there’s a lingering suspicion of Muslims as a community. It also says, given the push-back against the hearings, that there are a great many people who are invested in supporting American Muslims as part of the American community and interfaith dialogue.
LAWTON: And we did see diversity within the American Muslim community this week. A lot of people think of it as a monolithic body, but it’s really not.