Charles Inouye teaches how haiku can help us eliminate the distance between ourselves and God—and allow us to become the people we’re meant to be.
We all know how to be thankful for things—the food we eat, the houses we live in, the cars we drive. But how often do we stop to be thankful to things for the function they fill in our lives? The kitchen table, the trees at the park, or even our toothbrushes and shampoo?
This act of being thankful to things has great importance in Japanese culture and philosophy and reflects another critical principle in Japanese culture: observing and understanding the material world in front of us. In his Humanities Center colloquium speech on October 31, 2024, titled “Postmodern Ecology: Restoring the Power of Things through Haiku,” Charles Inouye, chair of international literary and cultural studies at Tufts University, explained how haiku can teach us about the material world—which in turn helps us understand and learn from God.
The Art of Observing Holiness
On their own, haiku aren’t inherently religious, but they still connect deeply with core principles of Japanese religion and culture, including the idea that closeness is more powerful than distance. Inouye began his presentation by contrasting Western and Japanese religious symbolism: In Western religion, symbols call attention to abstract concepts, like a cross signifying the crucifixion of Christ. In Japanese religion, however, symbols draw attention to things immediately present in front of you, like a rope around a sacred tree. “That rope signifies something defined,” Inouye said. “It’s saying that this thing you’re experiencing is God. It has an anima—a spirit, a soul, an intelligence—[and] you can know that and respond to it.”
Just encounter [the world] and be honest about what you’re encountering.
As an art form, haiku uniquely emphasize this principle, requiring writers to have a specific kind of awareness of the material world in front of them. Inouye explained that the highest regarded haiku simply describe the details of a physical experience—the wind through the sakura blossoms or the splash of a frog jumping into a pond. While abstract subtext exists just beneath the words of the poems (a suggestion of seasons and movement and mindfulness), the words on the page limit themselves to describing observed physical reality. “Just encounter [the world],” Inouye said, “and be honest about what you’re encountering."
Seeking the Presence of God
As writers seek honesty in their poetry, they learn to mindfully consider the world around them, which leads to meaningful observation and learning. This, in turn, allows us to learn from God; Inouye explained that one of the best ways to know God is to know His creations, the same way that the best way to write haiku is to learn from the things you’re writing about. Inouye shared a quote by Japanese poet Matsuo Bashō: “If you’re going to write about pine trees, learn from pine trees, and if you’re going to write about bamboo, learn about bamboo.” Understanding comes from increased proximity and closeness—a principle that applies to God just as much as the natural world.
This seeking proximity to the world around us—and therefore divinity itself—follows a core part of Japanese worship: approaching divinity. Inouye explained, “You’re worshipping God by moving ahead. . . . You’re not praying, you’re not vocalizing anything, you’re just wanting to be closer, and that is the essence of worship to us.” By eliminating the distance between ourselves and God, in whatever form we may find Him, Inouye believes we can step past barriers to our spirituality and be open to all the lessons God has for us, however He may see fit to teach them to us. To close, he illustrated how we can learn truths from everything around us, sharing a haiku written by his niece Melissa just a few months before she passed away:
Falling rain, dry bark
beneath the great fallen trunk,
breathing, life, life, life.
Find the Humanities Center Colloquium schedule here.