Devotion in Detail: Spiritual and Religious Rituals in Japan

「掃除は心の修行」

Sōji wa kokoro no shugyō

“Cleaning is training for the heart.”

– A Zen teaching emphasizing mindfulness, humility, and inner discipline in everyday action.

In the hush of a shrine courtyard, beneath the towering torii and rustling pines, the rhythm of devotion pulses softly—unhurried, unseen by most, but endlessly alive. In Japan, spiritual practice is rarely loud. It is woven into water, incense, footsteps, and breath. Here, humility, purity, and remembrance are not abstract ideals—they are gestures, repeated through generations.

Shinto Practices: Living with the Kami

At the heart of Shinto lies the belief in kami—divine spirits or energies that reside in all things. Mountains, rivers, trees, ancestors, even a beautifully crafted tool can hold a kami. Shinto is not about rigid doctrine, but about cultivating a respectful relationship with the sacred presence within the everyday.

Shrines (jinja) are the spaces where humans come into intentional contact with kami. Marked by red torii gates, these shrines act as thresholds between the mundane and the sacred. Visitors will often bow before entering, cleanse their hands and mouths at the chōzuya (a stone water basin), and offer a coin at the altar. The ritual is quiet and precise: two bows, two claps, a silent prayer, and a final bow.

These acts may seem simple, but they are dense with meaning. The bow is humility. The claps are a call to attention—for both the kami and the self. The prayer is not always a request; often, it is a moment of connection, of gratitude.

The chōzuya itself, with its bamboo ladles and flowing water, is more than a station for cleanliness—it is a liminal space, washing away both visible and invisible impurities. The sound of water, the coolness of stone, and the motion of rinsing become a kind of sensory prelude to reverence.

Shinto rituals also follow the rhythm of the year. At Hatsumōde, the first shrine visit of the New Year, families come in droves to pray for blessings. During Shichi-Go-San, children aged three, five, and seven are dressed in traditional clothing and taken to shrines for rites of protection and health. Even everyday blessings—like a new car or home—can involve Shinto rituals, as purity and respect extend to the things that shape our lives.

Seasonal rites like Dondoyaki, where old talismans and New Year’s decorations are burned in sacred fires, reveal another layer of devotion—one where fire becomes a vehicle for release, transition, and purification.

Shinto is not just a religion—it is a worldview that reveres what is quiet, clean, and alive.

Buddhist Memorial Rites: Honoring the Departed

If Shinto is about the sacredness of the present world, Japanese Buddhism holds space for what lies beyond. Its most consistent public expression is in the rituals of remembrance—daily, monthly, and yearly acts that tether the living to the dead with cords of incense and prayer.

When a person passes away in Japan, a series of ceremonies begins: a wake, a funeral, a cremation, and then periodic memorials. Families may gather for the hōji (Buddhist memorial service) on the 7th, 49th, and 100th days after death—each date symbolizing the soul’s journey through the afterlife.

Why 49 days? In traditional Buddhist belief, the soul passes through intermediate states (bardo in Tibetan terms) before reincarnation. The 49th day marks the threshold, when the fate of the soul is believed to be determined. At these rites, monks chant sutras and offer incense while family members bow, weep, and remember.

The incense spiraling upward during hōji not only purifies but also symbolizes the transience of life and the lifting of prayers to the unseen world. The rhythmic intonation of sutras becomes both balm and bridge—comforting the living, guiding the dead.

But Buddhist rituals extend far beyond mourning. Many homes keep a butsudan, a household altar with photos of ancestors, candles, and offerings of food or flowers. Children are taught to bow in front of it each morning, to say goodnight before sleep. This is not simply tradition—it’s presence. It’s the belief that the ancestors still walk with us.

Offerings of favorite foods or seasonal treats at the butsudan show how everyday acts—boiling rice, peeling fruit, lighting a candle—become gestures of intergenerational affection. Memory is not just preserved; it is nourished.

The Obon festival in mid-August embodies this connection in vibrant form. Lanterns are lit to guide the spirits home, and traditional bon odori dances are performed in town squares and temple courtyards. It is a time of reunion—between families, and between worlds.

Through Buddhism, grief becomes ritual, and love becomes prayer.

Tea Ceremony: Reverence in a Cup

At first glance, the Japanese tea ceremony (chanoyu or sadō) appears to be about preparing and drinking tea. But its real purpose is spiritual discipline—meditation in motion, a choreography of grace that teaches humility, attention, and harmony.

Rooted in Zen Buddhism and refined over centuries, the tea ceremony is not just art, but asceticism. It typically takes place in a tearoom (chashitsu), often surrounded by a simple garden path (roji) meant to slow the mind and transition the guest from worldly concerns.

Before entering, participants cleanse their hands and mouths—echoing Shinto purification—and step through a low door that forces all to bow. Inside, the atmosphere is hushed. Every object, from the scroll on the wall to the handmade bowl, is chosen with the season and the guest in mind. Nothing is random. Every movement—folding a cloth, scooping the matcha, turning the bowl—has meaning, honed by years of study.

The host serves with grace; the guest receives with gratitude. Silence is not awkward—it is sacred. The philosophy of ichi-go ichi-e (“one time, one meeting”) underlies the moment. This encounter, in this form, will never happen again. So we pay attention. We savor it fully.

Even the tea utensils—chawan (bowl), chasen (whisk), natsume (tea caddy)—carry history and significance. The worn texture of a raku bowl or the faint scent of cedar in the tatami reminds all present that beauty lies in imperfection and transience.

In a world of constant noise, the tea ceremony offers something rare: a space where nothing is rushed and everything is revered.

Purification Rituals: Cleansing the Seen and Unseen

Cleanliness in Japan is not just physical—it is moral, spiritual, cosmic. To purify is to respect. To cleanse is to return to harmony.

Water plays a vital role in Japanese purification. At every Shinto shrine, the chōzuya awaits. Before praying, one must wash the left hand, then the right, rinse the mouth, and let the remaining water run down the handle—cleansing the vessel as well. This ritual is called misogi in its more elaborate forms, and some devotees perform it in rivers or waterfalls, standing beneath the cold rush of water while chanting prayers to purify the body and spirit.

Misogi harai is not just an act of cleaning—it is confrontation with the elemental. Stepping into the icy water at dawn, breathing deeply amid sacred chants, a person is stripped of distraction and brought face to face with their raw humanity.

Seasonal purification rites include Ōharae, a great ritual held twice a year (in June and December) to cleanse the nation of misdeeds and impurities. Participants may receive nagoshi no harae, where a ring of reeds (chinowa) is walked through in a figure-eight, symbolizing rebirth and renewal.

Purification also shapes daily life. Shoes are removed at entrances to keep sacred interior spaces clean. Hot springs (onsen) require thorough washing before entry—not just for hygiene, but to honor the communal water. Even etiquette around money and gifts—presenting them with both hands, in clean envelopes—echoes this deeper belief in cleanliness as spiritual respect.

Cleansing the body is inseparable from cleansing the mind. To sweep a floor, to wash a basin, to fold a cloth—each act becomes a lesson in mindfulness. Even monks in training begin their day with sōji, the ritual of cleaning their monastery—believing that dust on the floor is dust in the heart.

In a culture where harmony with nature and society is essential, purification is the way back when the balance is disturbed. It is both ritual and reminder: that we are always capable of returning to rightness, if we approach with humility.

A Quiet Thread

Whether practiced daily or reserved for special seasons, these rituals form a quiet thread through Japanese life—a way of weaving reverence into the routine. In a society often admired for its efficiency and innovation, these spiritual practices offer something else: a devotion to slowness, to presence, to the unseen.

Here, humility is not weakness but strength. Cleanliness is not vanity but virtue. And the divine is not distant—it lives in water, in tea, in the hands that bow and pour and remember.

「神道は生活の中にある」

Shintō wa seikatsu no naka ni aru

“Shinto lives in the everyday.”

– A modern expression of an ancient idea: spirituality is found in small, daily acts of reverence and care.