Kaz Nakata was a high school student living in Osaka, Japan, in 1995 when an apocalyptic religious sect released sarin gas on the Tokyo subway, killing 12 people and injuring hundreds more. The terrifying tragedy helped guide him, eventually, to become a Buddhist minister and a messenger of peace. Nakata, 33, moved to Fairfax County in July 2009 to lead the Ekoji Buddhist Temple. He sat down with The Examiner to share his beliefs, and what they mean here.
Do you consider yourself to be of a specific faith?
I am Buddhist. A lot of people ask me what is Buddhism, and I say it is just a way of living. It is not a belief system, but it is part psychology, part philosophy and part science. And a little bit faith, because certain schools of Buddhism really raise the Buddha as a god. But in religions, the focus is God. Buddhism is focused on the human beings, on the individuals.
Do you consider your role in the United States to be that of a missionary?
My job is not persuading people away from other religions. Buddhism simply wants to encourage people to have their own decisions in mind. Once we decide on one thing for everyone, then we start failing. So Buddhism says that each one of us has to be our own lifetime tour guide. That’s why I’m trying to share with the people who want to listen. I don’t want to grab their ear and say, “Hey, listen!” I don’t want that, and that’s not Buddhism.
My job is when someone is falling down, to hold them up, or to offer a safety net so they come down more slowly. That’s what Buddhism wants to do — not to put a Buddhist flag in the United States — that’s not our intention. But if someone really suffers from something, we say, “Please come to the Buddhist temple. We might be able to help you.” That’s kind of the Buddhist way.
Buddhism in the West often attracts young people, and a fair share of celebrities. Are you ever concerned it’s not practiced sincerely enough, or consistently?
I sometimes read what people say about Buddhism, and I notice the dilution of understanding. But the original texts were written in Sanskrit, or Chinese or Japanese, and at that time too there was the intention of the translator. So sometimes the wording changes, and people dilute the original meaning. There are small things I notice, but I say, “That’s OK, that’s appropriate, because that’s their understanding.” As long as they don’t harm someone — that’s fine. Any kind of wording has a dilution. I think that’s why it’s good to have Buddhist temples in the United States, to better encourage people to understand the original meanings.
What is the Buddhist response to a tragedy, like we recently saw in Haiti?
It’s nice to want to help, but the question is how can we help. People say, “Should we pray?” But prayer does nothing to help. I was a victim in Japan’s Kobe earthquake [in 1995], and we felt that prayer was no help. When people are under the beam of a structure, prayer does not help. But there are people going to the rescue, who are professionals, so they need money to send more people, and to buy more things, and so that’s why our temple created a relief fund. If you’re a professional, maybe you can go. But the appropriate way to help is to make a donation to support the people.
At your core, what is one of your defining beliefs?
I just believe people. I believe people. This is one of the differences between Asian and Western cultures. Here, when we’re greeting, people shake hands to show that they don’t have a gun. Asian people bow and show their neck. That means, totally, I respect you. In Western culture it’s “respect me, trust me.” Asians bow and show their neck saying, “You can kill me.” That’s one of the biggest differences — “I trust you,” or “Trust me.” That’s why I say I believe people. Even good or bad, I just trust people. Because if we don’t trust people, who’s going to try?
-Leah Fabel
