The Quiet Opening—Imaoka Shin’ichirō’s Free-Religion (draft, clean English only text, August 2026)
The Quiet Opening—Imaoka Shin’ichirō’s Free-Religion (draft, clean English only text, August 2026)
As regular readers of this blog will know, for the past three and a half years I have been working on translating a selection of essays by the prominent Japanese Unitarian, educator, interfaith pioneer and free-religionist, Imaoka Shin’ichirō (1881–1988). However, it has also become clear that, for general readers, in addition to an introductory essay about his free-religious thinking, there is a need for a shorter selection of his key essays on free religion. Crucially, these need to omit the kanji I have previously left in the text. I have also included in the draft of this book an appendix designed to help people start their own local free-religious groups, which Imaoka-sensei called Kiitsu Kyōkai (Returning-to-One Gatherings). .
To this end, I am in the midst of preparing just such a volume, and I have included a link in this post to a draft Google Docs version of it for your pleasure (see above and at the end). You will see from the picture of the cover that the translations are by myself and Kento Suzuki, a young Japanese scholar and Shugendō practitioner who has just returned to Japan after graduating from Brown University’s Contemplative Studies Course. So far, Kento-san has carefully worked with me through Imaoka-sensei’s ‘Principles of Living’, but we are hopeful that, from October onwards, we’ll be working together through the remainder of the essays in this volume. Keep your eyes peeled for those revisions… But, until then, please remember that I am entirely responsible for the translation of the remaining essays! So, if you spot any mistakes in this draft (whether in translation, typography, or anything else), or if you have any thoughts or suggestions, please let me know, either in the comments or via the contact form on this blog.
The
reason for publishing them right now, in an easy-to-read draft form, is
that I have just been asked to write a piece introducing
Imaoka-sensei’s basic understanding of free religion for a forthcoming
edition of the Sea of Faith magazine, Sofia.
To assist me in writing that piece, and for the benefit of any eventual
readers, it is highly useful to have these foundational essays easily
accessible. So, here they are. I hope you find them as inspiring as I
have, and continue to do. Enjoy!
The Quiet Opening—Imaoka Shin’ichirō’s Free-Religion (draft, clean English only text, August 2026)
Comments
"Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage." Its the lack of doors that does that.
"Glory be to God for dappled things" is the poem I've turned to for this theme. One of my favourite qualities of light is the spring sun shining through the leaves that have opened but still have their translucent green before they darken to provide the summer shade in woodland. The deer are in there, but good luck spotting them.
As I have mentioned to Andrew occasionally, Incarnation is important. ;)
1-6, fine. 7 has too much Plato and not enough JS Mill for me. Ultimate Truth is like a free lunch, there ain't no such thing. Conversation is important but it is the nature of life that every conclusion is contingent and temporary. Ultimate Truth is out of reach like a mirage, because it is a mirage. Towards the end of the pilgrimage essay I think there are sentiments similar to this that are in tension with Principle 7 if not directly antithetical to it.
Early in the essay there is an example of baby and mother cooperation which I consider significantly flawed. There very much is a struggle for existence between baby and mother. There are many examples of truces amenable to both parties, but the underlying conflict is real. What happens in a famine? Whose interest does promoting this as a natural harmony actually serve? We should of course do our best to facilitate mutually amenable truces, but this means doing things like supporting Oxfam and donating to food banks rather than pretending there is no conflict.
And so, now, not answers/rebuffs to your words but further (metaphorical) reflections of my own that have been drawn out by your words . . .
In my reading of Hirshfield’s poem the “arc of water” stands for the eternal movement of the largeness/the Supple Deer (i.e. Kami/God/the Divine Spirit, or the “Great Life of free and unobstructed creative evolution”, etc.), and to be envious of that kind of movement would be (for me) hubristic — it is simply not available to finite creatures like me. I take it that the “arc of water” is, when I find a way to be open to its flow — as is the “fence” — then one is endlessly filled and refilled with that moving “arc of water”, and thus, one experiences the truth that one is always-already an incarnation of the “Great Life of free and unobstructed creative evolution”. To use your image about prisons, the point is, when I come to know myself as a “door,” then I am no longer imprisoned behind walls and bars, but free, not absolutely, and God-like, but appropriately free within the limits of my particular form of incarnated “Great Life”.
Lying behind this in Imaoka-sensei’s thinking, as I have only just fully appreciated, is the concept of muga [無碍], meaning “unobstructed/unhindered freedom”, in which a religious life should open out into a “realm” in which one transcends oppositions such as pleasure and pain, heaven and hell, and is not “imprisoned” even by gods or buddhas. In the same fashion, he speaks of the “quintessence of religion” as grasping the already mentioned “Great Life of free and unobstructed creative evolution” [自由で無碍な創造的進化], a universal, creative, ever-developing vitality that must not be restricted by fixed creeds, canonical texts, or sectarian boundaries.
And, turning to Imaoka-sensei’s Principles of Living, and particularly number 7 which you felt “has too much Plato.” I think it helps to see the term “the endless pursuit and improvement towards universal and ultimate truth” as if it were one, long, hyphenated word, and then understand that “word” functioning as what Wallace Stevens called a “supreme fiction”. For Stevens, this was an imaginative, poetic construction that a person can “believe in” in a fashion analogous to how earlier cultures believed in religious or philosophical metaphysical systems. Poetry, and individual poetic images become “supreme” because they can make meaning without pretending to be an ultimate, literal truth, and consequentially, are better able to keep pace with lived experience (i.e. the endless movement of “Great Life of free and unobstructed creative evolution”).
Continued in following comment . . .
And, lastly, to Tenkō-san’s story about the mother and child that Imaoka-sensei talks about in his essay, “My Soul’s Pilgrimage — One Aspect of the History of Japanese Free-Religion” [1972]. I think it’s important to know that this story gave rise to both Tenkō-san’s (and Imaoka-sensei’s) life of selfless service to others, it certainly did not lead them to sit back and do nothing whilst simply point to some false idea about there being a comfortable, natural order of things that absolved us from constant service. Anyway, in case it is of interest to you, I gave a thought for the day on this story that addresses some (but I am sure, not all) of your concerns, and you can read it at the following link:
“Beyond the binary of supply and demand — bringing citizens, business and industry together through a deep, but simple, creative, free spirituality”
As always, I look forward to continuing the conversation on a coming Sunday morning sometime soon.
Andrew
What I object to is the projection of this inspiration back onto the woman and child. Are they actually in the state of harmony that Imaoka sees? They might be, or they might not be. Women have reported similar experiences, but they have also reported distressing experiences. A mirage can provide a true inspiration and yet still be a mirage. Projecting the inspiration back onto the world is a creationist error and risks being a significant disservice to those whose relationship with their children differs from Imaoka's vision.
I think you also misunderstood supply and demand. They are a tool for diagnosing disharmonies in large groups. They can be used to promote or ameliorate them, but so can virtually all understanding of nature. The baby's demand and the mother's supply do not necessarily balance.
You may or may not be intending that projection back onto the mother and baby, but that is the vision I got from you.
Its much the same with "ultimate truth". Perhaps I am actually critiquing your translation. I do not see any Plato in the essay. Translation is difficult, particularly if you are trying to keep it snappy. I'm sure not everyone would agree with my version of Jesus' first commandment.
An important thing to keep in mind is that the story about the mother and child is not Imaoka-sensei’s, but Tenkō-san’s, and the latter’s experiences and stories, were a major influence upon Imaoka-sensei. But this important fact aside, I return to my earlier reply in order to say that the story clearly functions for both Imaoka-sensei and Tenkō-san as a “supreme fiction”, and to use your image, even if it is a “mirage” (in the way you are, perhaps, understanding it) it can still provide a true inspiration. <a href="https://www.ittoen.or.jp/english/“>[Should you, you can also read the story on the English page of the Ittōen website].</a>
I think you make the very important point that projecting this inspiration back on parents “whose relationship with their children differs from Imaoka's vision” in any absolute way “risks being a significant disservice”, but neither Imaoka-sensei nor Tenkō-san were ever in the business of doing that to others, even as they lived their own lives out of the inspiration they received/drew from that story — as indeed do I.
And, just in case you fancy following up the translation of “universal and ultimate truth” in Imaoka-sensei’s “Principles of Living” here are the relevant Japanese terms: 普遍的・究極的真理.
Thanks again for writing. Much appreciated.