Study of religion turns man's life around
Many new faiths don't try to replace existing ones
By Mary Kaye Ritz
Religion & Ethics Writer
Professor Jay Sakashita and his wife, Pauline, named their daughter Skye for a Scottish island where they met. Sakashita is a scholar of Japanese new religions.
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"Gee, we thought you'd be in jail," they tell him.
That's because Sakashita, 38, whose book on the Shinnyo-En (a Japanese religion with about 2,000 followers in Hawai'i) is in the hands of the prestigious Curzon Press, can't remember a week in his senior year that he attended every class he was supposed to.
"I was a delinquent," he admitted.
How the kid who was picked up for truancy twice in high school could become the state's foremost expert on new Japanese religions is an inspirational tale, the story of determination overcoming destiny.
Sakashita used to skip school regularly, and when he did go to class, he'd either sleep or drink his way through it.
Tough luck for anyone trying to pull one over on this professor, who used to empty out his school milk carton and refill it with liquor to drink during school. He knows all the tricks, including changing his grades with nail polish remover and forging his teachers' names on his attendance forms.
Looking back, he realizes the teenager he was probably was suffering from depression. One teacher's suggestion that he see a psychologist was probably a good one, he says now. Too bad he didn't take it at the time.
What he did was muddle through, barely graduating from Kalani in 1982, then going to Leeward Community College.
After two years there, applying over and over to the University of Hawai'i-Manoa, he finally was accepted. At Leeward, if he flunked a class, he'd get a "no credit" and had to take the class again.
"I think I took Japanese 201 five times," he said.
Then at UH, he found religion. Or at least, the Religion Department, and especially classes with Fritz Seifert. He started to learn and realized he liked it: "I was getting B's rather than D's or F's."
With the help of adviser George Tanabe, he went on to get a master's in religion from UH, taking a class on Japanese religions with a visiting professor, Ian Reader of the University of Sterling in Scotland. Here begins the rest of his life: Sakashita was accepted by Sterling for its doctoral program.
On July 29, 1998, he got his doctorate.
On July 30, 1998, he got married.
Now, he and his wife, Pauline, assistant vice president of credit review for the Bank of Hawaii, are parents of Skye, named for the Scottish island where her parents met.
How he goes about researching new religions is rather, um, unorthodox: He joins them. In one case, he even became a minister.
Though some might fault Sakashita for interacting with his subjects, he says, "It's not deceptive, because I'm genuinely interested in learning about it, not in passing judgment."
His students profile various faiths, too, attending services and interviewing each religion's leader. Their papers help students gain insight and helps their teacher. "There are a lot of new Japanese religions that will focus on the new younger generations," said Sakashita, adding that some aren't interested in opening up to a stranger who is doing research.
New religions are a mostly postwar Japanese phenomenon. Some emphasize mysticism and communicating with spirits, while others gear themselves toward housewives, Sakashita said.
The religions may offer this-world benefits, such as financial security and healthy relationships. Sakashita remembers talking to one new convert who said her bank account began to grow once she started chanting.
"I tried that," he said. Then he laughed. "Mine stayed the same."
His former adviser, Tanabe, tells the story about how Sakashita came to be an assistant minister.
Tanabe spotted an ad in the paper about the job opening and told Sakashita it would make a good research subject. Sakashita called and made an appointment.
He was told, "Well, we can't pay you much, but you'd get a house and a car."
When Sakashita went back and told Tanabe that he'd been mistaken as a potential job candidate, they discussed it. As assistant minister, he wouldn't be teaching or preaching: The job consisted of gesturing over water, which would then be drunk after the church's 15-minute meditation service.
Tanabe told him he would get information many scholars don't have access to. So Sakashita rationalized taking the job, knowing he'd be helping that community.
Today, he's wistful about those two years and the seven to 10 members of his former flock who would bring him rice and fruit in thanks for "blessing" their holy water.
"I got quite attached," he said.
When Tanabe talks about the amazing turnaround Sakashita made in his life, he is quick to deflect any credit.
"By the time I got to know Jay as a student, his life had already been turned around," he said. "What I saw in him was this tremendous curiosity. ... That was Jay's great blessing, he had this tremendous desire to learn. If you've got that, a teacher's job is easy."
Tanabe recalls his student's outrageous early papers, including the one that suggested Jesus was homosexual. But soon, Sakashita settled in, thanks to the elements that impressed his professors, including Reader, whom Tanabe calls "one of the greatest scholars in the field": intellectual curiosity, a willingness to work hard, an openness to learning.
"If you have those elements, anyone can start learning at any time in their lives, and it doesn't matter what your background was," Tanabe said.