Strange glimpses into the church in Japan

Karōshi. Kigyō senshi. Mōretsu shain. Shachiku. Japan has no lack of trending phrases in the media for its straightlaced, all-demanding work culture.

But what about when it comes to the church in Japan? Phrases we hear are: bata-kusai (Western influenced) and shikii ga takai (“high threshold,” social barrier to entry). To the casual observer, it resembles something like a panda in the zoo: cute to look at in passing, but that’s about it, and unlikely to do much reproducing. To reach the Japanese, the church must resist negative cultural influences and engage in meaningful relationships one-on-one and with groups.

Contrasting church and the workplace

In both the workplace and the church, the lingering feudal influence of the lifetime employment system and hierarchical structure remains. Strong communal obligations create a powerful sense of loyalty, for better or worse. People want something bigger than themselves, a place in which they can find a semblance of security and purpose. And if it kills their soul and damages their well-being, that’s dismissed as necessary for the greater good.

The main difference between the workplace and the church is that one is a given in society, and the other is a strange, largely hidden-away curiosity. Even if you are looking for them, Christian groups can be difficult to find. There was a campus Bible study group that I was trying to get in contact with, and I emailed a number of people directly or indirectly related with them. However, I was basically given the runaround at each turn, as if they didn’t really want to be contacted or attract new people. God may have been redirecting me, like Paul and his companions from Bithynia (Acts 16:6–8), nevertheless, isn’t it time for Christians to come out of hiding and into their communities? Consider how interconnected companies and neighborhood associations are in the life of the community in local festivals and charities.

Sadly, churches can hold a competitive attitude: criticizing other ministries, limiting contact from other churches, and maintaining exclusive control over their dwindling number of members. If you are not a member at a particular church, even pastors who know you (and like you) may require you to have their permission to contact an old friend who goes to their church. Being territorially competitive and wary of head-hunting may be standard business practice, but these have no place among the beloved family of God; these do nothing to recommend the church as an oasis of grace for the newcomer.

It’s also hard to connect with businessmen or women who work Monday to Saturday all day and into the night, and most Christians are at church on Sunday, often all day. While there are some church-planters who hold Bible studies with businessmen on the train commute and some pastors who do early weekday breakfast meetings, scheduling can be difficult.

Similarities between church and workplace

In the world of business, as in the world of the church, introductions are key. If you don’t know someone who can invite you, you might not be welcomed in or feel like you would be welcomed, so it’s rather intimidating for someone to join a new group unless they feel compelled by some inciting incident—some personal crisis perhaps. When people know they have a standing invitation to come with you to church, your personal example of walking in the Spirit will “prime the pump” so to speak, when the times comes.

The challenge in Japan is to show a person that reality of the “corporate” Christ that is bigger and more purposeful than one person or the “company,” and that it is not stodgy, legalistic, or burdensome, but life-giving. Describing conversion “as if he were looking through a leper’s window,” Chesterton said, “only, when he has entered the Church is much larger inside than it is outside.”¹

Within the church community, one finds oneself in the alpine air of the high country, the upside-down kingdom. Instead of a priority on seniority and doddering traditionalism, we should see a special emphasis for the weak and downtrodden that Christ holds to his bosom, and in place of rigid formalism, a cup of cold water to people parched for real connection.

The church today, like many companies in Japan, is adverse to risk. It is reluctant to try new and ambitious programs, to retrain and rebrand itself, to meet the physical and spiritual needs of the community even if it makes it look a bit, well, strange. Of course, we are painting with broad strokes here, and the church is not to slavishly copy corporate culture, but the same cultural influences, such as fear of failure and standing out, have influenced both company and church.

However, many people don’t realize that much of modern Japan was formed behind the scenes by stout-hearted men and women in the past who were radical in their devotion to serving God and Japan, never minding the naysayers. At times, they broke taboos, swerved against the flow, sneaked around fusty laws (when needed), were misunderstood, and incurred the enmity of those around them. Some were respectable statesmen. Some lived in slums and hovels. And with all that, they shaped Japan. I love to read their stories.

These Japanese Christians of the past are heroes of mine, though largely unknown and forgotten now by much of Japanese society (look up the four examples pictured above). They had a vision of greatness for Japan, seeking after the kingdom of God to redeem and reform their homeland. Those heroic Japanese Christians of the past modeled an admirable, if sometimes imperfect, picture of the patriot-prophet (Acts 17:26–27). Rather than being hesitant, we should strive to emulate their examples of being salt and light to the Japanese and be clear about the message we share.

How can we do better?

What does the average outsider think when they peek through the doors of a church? It is important to be able to feel at home and not out of place, to feel you can be who you are and not on guard about what others may or may not think about you. Non-Christians desire a place where they feel like they can be themselves. Church at its best should be like this.

The idea of attending church for the first time can be unusually daunting. I often hear Japanese say about visiting a church, “Oh, is it okay? Even though I’m not a Christian?” They think they might be rejected at the entrance. Even though the church members might be quite welcoming, it can be hard to shake the feeling that one shouldn’t be there without a specific purpose, as if one needs a passport and to be approved through customs to enter. This is similar to how you don’t approach strangers in Japan to chit-chat with unless you have a good reason. Much of that uneasiness might be mitigated if, before inviting newcomers to church, we befriended them in their own groups. Of course, visiting a church for English lessons or other activities could also help give a rationale or convenient excuse for being there.

Pastor Kuroda, who used to smuggle Bibles past the Iron Curtain, notes that businessmen are under so much strain and tension from overwork that music events work well to directly touch their hearts and bring relaxation and healing. He stresses that human relationships—that is, trust relationships—are fundamental. No one wants to do business with someone they just met or they don’t yet trust. Take the time to develop hadaka no tsukiai (裸の付き合い, relationships where you can be yourself) so people can feel able to open up to each other.

Ultimately, the goal is not to get unbelievers into the church but Jesus into unbelievers, and if they are “in Christ,” they are de facto in the body of Christ. Japan doesn’t need Sunday Christians and Sunday-service Christianity that fails to address the isolation endemic in Japanese society. But rather the church needs a more biblical ecclesiology that carries Christ wherever it goes as “the fullness of him who fills all in all” (Eph. 1:23 ESV) to the end that his “house may be filled” (Luke 14:23).

1. G. K. Chesterton, The Catholic Church and Conversion, (MacMillan Company: New York, 1926), 49.