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COFFINMAN by Shinmon Aoki : A review
Rev. Taitetsu Unno, in his Foreword to Coffinman by Shinmon Aoki, comments:
This little book, a diary of a mortician, invites the reader into the fascinating world of Buddhist spirituality which sees the ex-traordinary in things ordinary, mundane, and even repugnant. … Coffinman is not a standard English word but a translation of the Japanese, nokanfu, whose job was to pick up a corpse, place it in a coffin, and ultimately prepare it for a funeral. The author, a failed businessman and once aspiring writer, is a coffinman, which invites nothing but rebuke from family and friends. But he conveys a refreshing view of life that only a person in his position can bring.
Beginning his job as a coffinman, Aoki’s autobiographical book talks about the harsh judgments of his wife and neighbors over his occupation. But slowly, Aoki guides us through his acceptance both of his job and himself.
Last night, when I went to her seeking affection, she turned me down. “And I won’t,” she said, “until you quit that disgusting job of yours.” … “You’re defiled! Keep away from me!” she said hysterically refusing my advances. … [T]hat got to me.
The tragedy of today’s thinking that death is to be abhorred as evil and life accrued absolute value, is the fact that everyone must die one day, bringing us face to face with an absolute contradiction. … For instance, the passage, “Though in the morning we may have radiant health, in the evening we may be white ashes” from Rennyo’s letter on the White Ashes no longer has the power to shock those who hear it.
That all things are impermanent expresses the truth that all things and events in the world undergo a continual process of change, never stopping even for a moment. This word finds a special place in the hearts of the Japanese people. And in a paragraph that I initially found off-putting, Aoki describes a life affirming experience:
There was no need for me to stick around to clean up the maggots, but it was possible the site would be used for the funeral, so I started sweeping them up just in case. As I was sweeping them together, I got a better look at the maggots as individual existences. I noticed some were trying to crawl up the pillars to get away. A maggot is just another life form. And just when I was thinking that, I was sure I saw one of them glow with light. [Emphasis added]
The light Aoki was referring to is the light from Amida Buddha, a theme that repeats itself throughout this book. For example, in a later section of Coffinman, Aoki reveals a tender story that I think works on several levels:
… [T]he telephone rang … It was one of my relatives asking me to make a hospital call to that uncle of mine who was now hospi-talized with cancer. It was years since we last met, the last time being when he broke off relations with me. I caught myself thinking something like, “Serves him right after what he did to me!” I still burned with indignity from that time. He called me a disgrace to the family; he made me crawl like a worm—that I could never forget.
But under pressure from his wife, Aoki nevertheless visits his uncle near the end of his uncle’s life struggle and says:
My uncle was looking in my direction and was trying to say something … When I felt him grip my hands ever more slightly, I thought I heard him say, “Arigato,” thank you. Then later again, still grasping my hands, he repeated in a voice barely audible, “Arigato.” That face of his was so soft and gentle, it virtually glowed. [Emphasis added]
The next morning my uncle died. The resentment in my heart was gone. The only thing I felt building up was a sense of shame. At the funeral, as I offered incense, I said, “Uncle, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.” The tears were rolling down my cheeks in a steady stream.
As Taitetsu Unno so eloquently says, “Aoki the coffinman, with ‘eyes like the clear blue sky and transparent like the wind’, shares this rich spiritual legacy with quiet humor, penetrating insight, and boundless compassion.”
© 2009 West Los Angeles Buddhist Temple Online
