In some circles, the Rev. Shuji Komagata might be considered a magical creature: a fourth-generation Soto Zen minister.

Why so exceptional? Well, Soto Zen priests weren't even allowed to marry until about 100 years ago, explained his father, the Rev. Shugen Komagata. Before that, a celibate priest would pick a disciple to receive direct Zen transmissions in the Japanese Buddhist tradition. Oftentimes, the disciple would take the name of the master, but it's only a recent development that the disciple is one's actual blood relation.

All that changed about the time Shuji Komagata's family came to Hawai'i in 1912. His great-grandfather was a Soto Zen priest. His grandfather was a Soto Zen priest. And his father is a Soto Zen priest.

"Before I felt the call, I certainly felt the expectation," laughed Shuji Komagata, 32, minister of the Soto Zen Buddhist temple in 'Aiea. "It doesn't feel unusual. It's been a part of me all my life. People might look at it as certain amount of pressure, but it's more like being nurtured in this profession."

Shuji Komagata might be the most remarkable case of ministerial succession from father to son, but here on O'ahu, he's far from alone. Outside the Buddhist realm, three pastors of some of the largest Christian churches here have seen their sons take up the sacred baton. Witness the cases of the Stonebrakers (Bud and Bill), the Moores (Carl and Ralph) and the Cordeiros (Aaron and Wayne).

THE STONEBRAKERS

"People on the outside might think ministry is a — quote, unquote — family business, but God doesn't call people because their parents are in the ministry," said Bud Stonebraker, 35. "My calling is because of my heavenly father."

Bud Stonebraker had a different path altogether from his father, pastor of Calvary Chapel Honolulu. Where his dad was a surfboard-shaper-turned-pastor, Bud Stonebraker did time as a public servant, finishing his term in the state House of Representatives.

"My in-laws are Jewish, and they have this conception of ministry as smithing — your dad's a blacksmith, you're a blacksmith kind of thing. I observed my dad, and the training may be there, but that doesn't qualify me into the ministry. You'll probably get the same testimony from Aaron (Cordeiro) and Carl (Moore)," Stonebraker said.

"We see God changing people's lives and I just couldn't do anything else."

As senior pastor at South Shore Christian Fellowship, which meets at 'Aina Haina Elementary, Stonebraker said he "didn't want to capitalize on the position, and inherit a ready-made ministry.

"I wanted to see what I could make from the ground up," he said.

"Bud always has had a sense of calling," said his father, Bill Stonebraker. "He's half of me, half of Danita. I'm kind of a recluse, tenacious. Bud, he's got a real gift, way beyond what I had, an incredible memory. If anything, it was an unwitting influence, something more caught than taught."

THE MOORES

As founder of the Hope Chapel movement, Ralph Moore served as another unwitting example to his son, Carl Moore, 36.

While Carl Moore said his father told him he'd love him if he were a mechanic or a trash collector, there were sometimes external pressures from the congregations and others, if not to be the leader's successor, to follow in holy footsteps.

"You either make a decision to go with it or to rebel hard," Carl Moore said, adding that during junior and high school, the life of a senior pastor seemed like too much stress.

His father let him find his own way to church leadership.

"I'd attended UH for a semester, but I wasn't feeling it," said Carl Moore.

Instead of going into a secular field, however, Carl Moore worked as an assistant to a youth pastor and went to Bible college in California. His days in youth ministry at Hope Chapel Ontario proved fruitful: The youth group that began with two junior high boys grew to more than 100 within five years.

Carl Moore came back to Hawai'i in 2001 with a wife and, now, children — one here, one on the way. That led to running the youth group here, and eventually taking over a few of the Sunday services.

"I wanted to give my life to God, but it was not until a couple of years ago my dad and I had the talk, (when) he said he's not going to be in this position forever," said Carl Moore.

Both remember the tears of the very moment Carl Moore knew his calling.

"It was very painful and hard for Carl to accept a job here," recalled Ralph Moore, who appreciated the fact that the church council needed to draft Carl, rather than have him actively volunteer. "... I was pleased it was somebody not grasping for the job."

Though they share a bloodline, their styles are markedly different, said Carl Moore: Ralph Moore is more cerebral, he's more relational.

"He gives me space, lets me do my thing," said Carl Moore. "My dad is a super reader, he absorbs books. His style is more about history, and he uses a wealth of knowledge. I come at it with a more youthful approach — everyday style."

Adds Ralph Moore: "He's more sensitive to the things of the spirit, more aggressive about that."

Neither had planned on making a dynasty, and Carl will be just as protective about his children finding their own way, he said: "I'll be happy if they grow up knowing and serving the Lord."

"Nepotism is a freaky thing," said Ralph Moore. "We just resisted that so much. ... I'm already praying for my grandson, that nobody thinks of them as a little Carl or a little Ralph."

THE CORDEIROS

Like his friend Carl Moore, Aaron Cordeiro knew the pressure of being a pastor's kid, but "I always wanted to be like my dad," Aaron said.

Dad is Wayne Cordeiro, pastor of New Hope Christian Fellowship. Asked how their styles differ, Aaron took a deep breath and searched for the right words.

"He has so much more experience," said Aaron Cordeiro, who recently took over New Hope Hawaii Kai. "Of course he's going to tap into his well of knowledge and depth, which is massive. As far as style, it might be similar as far as communication, but his is far beyond mine. At the same time, I want to be who I am. ... I'm newly married, so I try to talk out of those experiences."

The path didn't surprise Dad.

"Early on, I knew," said Wayne Cordeiro. "I even have a picture of him picking up my Bible and putting it on a stand and preaching. ... It may be mimicking, but it may be early signs of a call, early signs of a leadership gift."

Still, Wayne Cordeiro wanted his son to grow up following his heart: "I groomed him to be a good citizen. The rest is between him and God."

Wayne Cordeiro's own father was a combat photographer who was stationed with Gen. Douglas MacArthur, and a strict disciplinarian. "We did not get along at the end of my high school years," recalled Wayne Cordeiro. "Actually, I estranged myself for a season, went into drugs, an unbalanced lifestyle. ... I went off the handle a little bit. I thought when I was struggling, no one could reach me."

Wayne Cordeiro eventually went to Bible college — "In a roundabout way, my dad had a huge influence on me," he said.

A generation later, the son followed in his footsteps.

"Aaron and I are really close," Wayne Cordeiro said. "... We're like best friends."

Like Bill Stonebraker, Wayne Cordeiro sees a lot of his wife in his child: "He's got a real kind heart. His mom is like that. ... I'm a little more goal-oriented, an entrepreneur, a pioneer."

But Wayne Cordeiro knows the minister's life is not an easy one: "You don't get rich. In real estate, you'd be making $20 million to $30 million. It's the choice you have to make, a passion you have."

With Aaron Cordeiro just 27, he's still under supervision, even in his new position.

"He's an independent guy, but at the same time, he's not adverse to advice from Dad," said Wayne Cordeiro. "... He's a great, great kid. His marriage is excellent, his wife is exemplary, he's got a good disposition. Yes, (the church leaders) do have their eye on him, but his name and who his dad is is not the primary driver. It doesn't hurt, but it isn't the primary driver."

COMMONALITIES

Of the four father-son pairs interviewed, one similarity was particularly striking: All seemed to talk to one another on a regular basis. And we're not talking shop talk, either.

Some men chat with their fathers on weekends, Christmas and Father's Day. Bud Stonebraker called his father to the phone from outside, where he was working on a fence. Shugen Komagata promised to pass along the message from a reporter, since he was about to call Shuji anyway.

Of course, there's plenty of business ground to cover.

"There's no single day that we don't talk to each other about something about the church," Shugen Komagata said. "One of us will always say, 'What do you think?'"

Another similarity: The next generation of ministers said they felt gentle pressure from the congregation, who typically look from father to son with a certain amount of expectancy.

But as with Carl Moore, the sons say their fathers allowed them to find their own way.

"When there was (congregational) pressure, Dad would light into them," Carl Moore recalled. "He'd say, 'Don't put that on him.' So I didn't take it to heart too much."