Do You Have Ikigai?

The Japanese word ikigai (pronounced “ee key guy”) is an important word/concept that has long been common in Japan, and it is becoming more widely known in the English-speaking world. 

The Oxford English Dictionary defines ikigai as “a motivating force; something or someone that gives a person a sense of purpose or a reason for living.” Its meaning is similar to the French expression raison d'être, and shares much in common with Viktor Frankl’s concept of logotherapy. 

One of the first popularizers of ikigai in the U.S. is Dan Buetter whose TED talk “How to live to be 100+” in 2009 referred to how ikigai is one reason for the remarkable longevity of people who live in Okinawa, Japan. (The video of that talk has now had more than 630,000 views.)

Marc Winn is an entrepreneur and a “business coach” who in May 2014 posted “What is your Ikigai?” He presented his ideas with a Venn diagram that has become quite popular. (Some of you have probably seen it on Facebook.)

Winn’s “Ikigai Venn Diagram” has now been presented in various colorful ways, but I like this simpler one: 

Although it is translated from Spanish, Ikigai: The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life (2016, 2017) by Héctor García and Francesc Miralles is an “international bestseller,” and I read a copy from my local library in 2020. (Here is a link to a review of that book, including “the 10 rules of ikigai.”)

Winn’s Venn diagram and the “marketing” of ikigai in the Western world is not liked by some Japanese, however. I won’t try to explain that criticism here, but if you are interested, please access this website.

Just because the Japanese use the wonderful word ikigai, that doesn’t mean everyone actually possesses it. The Japanese suicide rate has been, and remains, high—for many reasons. But the absence of ikigai is one of the major reasons, especially among for younger Japanese.

Neither is obtaining ikigai, perhaps wrongly appropriated by Western entrepreneurs, something that can be quickly achieved. Still, having a strong purpose for living is of great importance for all people, whether you call it ikigai or not.

But how does one obtain ikigai? There is no “one and only” way, but I am convinced that a strong religious faith is a primary means, although that is not a way common among Japanese people. But consider this example of one Japanese Christian who exhibited a strong sense of ikigai.

It was about 50 years ago that I first met a Japanese professor/scholar by the name of Sakakibara Gan. He was translating Arthur Gish’s book The New Left and Christian Radicalism, which I wanted to use in an upcoming Christian Studies course that I was going to teach.**

Sakakibara-sensei was born in 1898, so he was 74 or 75 when I first met him—and I thought he was quite old since he was 40 years older than I. When he told me about his plans for the years ahead, I understood his strong sense of ikigai.

The “old” professor said, “I can’t die for a few years yet; there are too many books I still want to write and to translate”—and he did go on to write three books (the third of those published in 1991) and to translate four more books after that. He died in 1994, about two weeks after his 96^th birthday.

Although I haven’t often used the term ikigai, I am deeply grateful for having had it from my teen years. My 38 years in Japan were so meaningful because of ikigai—and having had the privilege of helping a number of Japanese people discover their ikigai was and remains gratifying.

Even though I no longer need the bottom part of the Venn diagram, I am still invigorated by the top three circles.

I hope that you readers, too, have a sense of ikigai—or at least that you will acquire more and more ikigai in the months/years ahead.

_____

** I have previously posted blog articles about Gish and his book; see here and here. And here is the link to an article about Sakakibara (and his wife) in the Global Anabaptist Mennonite Encyclopedia Online.

What About Christian Radicalism?

In 1970 a young man, Arthur G. Gish (b. 1939), published a book titled The New Left and Christian Radicalism. It was a slim, but powerful, book.

A couple of years later, another young man (me, b. 1938) read and was greatly influenced by Gish’s book. I have written about it before: the “Amish beard” I have worn since 1972 was partly due to my reading it (see this 2010 blog article.)

ART GISH’S VIEW OF CHRISTIAN RADICALISM

Just this past November, I again made reference to Gish’s book (see here), saying that it was “one of the most influential books I read in the 1970s—or maybe have read in my lifetime.”

The first comment I received on the latter article was from Thinking Friend Phil Rhoads. He wrote, “I wish you could give us a synopsis of Gish's 1970 book referred to.”

Well, I can’t give a full synopsis in this brief article, but I have elsewhere posted a brief summary which you can open with this link. In this article, though, I wish to think more about the meaning and feasibility of “Christian Radicalism.”

Gish’s book has two parts: The first has two chapters: an analysis of the New Left that was active in the U.S. in the 1960s and an explanation of 16^th century Anabaptism.

The second part of Gish’s book has three chapters, each of which begins with a striking statement:

                To be a Christian is to be a radical (p. 79).

                To be a Christian is to be an extremist (p. 94).

                To be a Christian is to be a subversive (p. 113).

Radicalism is closely linked to seeking revolution. Thus, Gish’s fifth and last chapter is “A Theology for Revolution”—but it is quite clear that he advocates only non-violent revolution. He is a thoroughgoing pacifist.

I have often quoted Gish’s assertion that “violent revolution is occurring because nonviolent revolution is not occurring” (p. 139). 

REFLECTING ON GISH’S VIEW

But is revolution along the lines Gish envisions possible in the contemporary world? It certainly didn’t happen in the 1960s or 1970s. And while it was somewhat a different kind of revolution Bernie Sanders and his followers sought last year, the result of the presidential election was just the opposite.

Here are some conclusions I have come to in reflecting upon Gish’s book about Christian radicalism:

(1) It is much easier to have a vision of radical (revolutionary) social change when 30 years old than 40 or more years later (notwithstanding Bernie). Most revolutionaries (peaceful or violent) and radicals (whether Christian or not) have been relatively young.

Jesus began his ministry when 30. Che Guevara’s revolutionary activity started when he was 28. Martin Luther King, Jr., who was born 88 years ago today, first became actively involved in the civil rights movement when he was 26. And so it goes.

(2) The type of revolution brought about by radical Christians, as envisioned by Gish, will be long in coming. It is not going to be a matter of a few years; it will take decades or even centuries. Kent Annan is the author of a new book titled Slow Kingdom Coming, and he makes a valid point: God’s Kingdom is coming, but it is coming very slowly. 

(3) The vision of radical Christianity that Gish set forth is an ongoing challenge for all of us who seek to be genuine Christians. It is easy to be drawn into conforming to the surrounding culture. It is easy to grow complacent, lazy, and/or tired. Serious consideration of Gish’s book helps us, still, to see visions and dream dreams (cf. Joel 2:28).

Maybe the Amish are Right (but Probably Not)

Mrs. Kikuko Fukuoka (June’s and my good friend from Fukuoka, Japan, whom I wrote about here four years ago) came to visit us again this month. I can’t remember why, but on her first evening here we talked some about the Amish.

What my Amish friend said

Fukuoka-san had never seen an Amish person and was interested in learning more about them. So the next day we drove up to the Jamesport (Mo.) area where I had gone in September. Among other things, we were able to talk briefly with Melvin Yutzy, my new Amish friend whom I wrote about on Sept. 30.

During our brief chat on Nov. 4, I asked Melvin about whether he and the other Amish in his community were going to vote on the following Tuesday. He quickly replied that he and all the Amish he knows have never voted and didn’t intend to this year.

(I had seen articles this fall about Amish voting—and voting Republican; for example, see this. But another article I saw said that perhaps only 10% to 15% of them do vote.) 

Anabaptist roots

There have been many Anabaptists through the years—and the Amish are clearly rooted in Anabaptism—who have taken a negative view toward not only voting but toward any active involvement in politics. At the beginning they even held that a Christian should not become a “magistrate.”

Unlike the Lutherans or the Reformed Church from which they separated, Anabaptists largely rejected Luther’s two kingdoms doctrine and opted for identifying wholly with the Kingdom of God and living as fully as possible by the values of that Kingdom—which notably included peace and justice.

Maybe the early Anabaptists and most of the current Amish are right: maybe we who are followers of Jesus Christ should be living in and working for the Kingdom of God rather than becoming involved in the “kingdoms” of the secular world.

Jesus, after all, called his followers to be salt, not the whole bowl of porridge.

When the followers of Jesus were a small minority, perhaps that was the optimal stance. But things changed. Christians came to make up a larger and larger segment of society. Of course, that led to what the Anabaptists have often called the Constintinian fall of the Church.

Accordingly, the 16^th century Anabaptists refused to entangle themselves in political affairs in the same way the first followers of Jesus did.

Neo-Anabaptism

More than six years ago I posted an article about Arthur G. Gish, a former Amish man (and then a member of the Church of the Brethren) who was the author of The New Left and Christian Radicalism (1970). That was one of the most influential books I read in the 1970s—or maybe have read in my lifetime.

In his seminal book, Gish writes about his Anabaptist forefathers with great appreciation—but then talks about the definite need now for those in that tradition to become more intentionally involved in the larger society. And that has, indeed, increasingly happened over the last 45 years.

Quite some time ago I started, but sadly never finished, writing an article about Neo-Anabaptism. Such is what Gish was advocating, for what I thought were legitimate reasons.

Rainbow Mennonite Church (in Kansas City, Kan.), the progressive church I belong to now, is a good example of a Neo-Anabaptist church, and I am happy to be a part of it.

So while I briefly wondered last week whether perhaps Melvin and his Amish friends are right about not voting, I have decided (again) that no, most probably they aren’t.

The Amish Beard (In Praise of Art Gish)

Arthur G. Gish became influential in my life nearly forty years ago, so I am writing this to praise his life and work—and partly to talk about his beard.

Gish was born on August 15, 1939, in Lancaster County, Penn., where many Amish people live. As a youth he became a member of the Church of the Brethren (CoB) and graduated from Bethany Theological Seminary, a CoB school in Richmond, IN. Gish’s first book was titled The New Left and Christian Radicalism (1970). That book was written when he was about thirty years old and very much involved in the anti-Vietnam War protest movement.

Gish’s next books were Beyond the Rat Race (1973) and Living in Christian Community (1979). “Simple Gifts,” the old Shaker hymn that begins, “It’s a gift to be simple, / It’s a gift to be free,” appears at the top of the very first page of text in the former. (Those same words are also quoted at the beginning of “Enough Is Enough,” the sixth chapter of Jim Wallis’ new book, Rediscovering Values, which will be discussed on October 13 at the Vital Conversations meeting at Antioch Public Library.)

In his first book, Gish contrasts the political “new left,” which was very active in the late 1960s, with Christian radicalism, especially as seen in the Anabaptists. I had long been a “fan” of the Swiss Brethren of the sixteenth century and others in that pacifist tradition, but I became even more enthusiastic about them after reading Gish’s book.

At the beginning of the chapter on Anabaptism, Gish writes,

The beard of the protester gave me a new appreciation for my Anabaptist grandfather’s beard. His beard symbolizes for him something very similar to what the beard means for the protester. When I asked my grandfather why he grew a beard his reply was that it was to show that he was different from the world. The beard of the protester is to demonstrate that he is not a part of the establishment. My own beard is a conscious attempt to bring together these two radical perspectives (p. 49).

Even though he was not Amish, Gish had an "Amish beard" which he kept to the end of his life, as you can see from the fairly recent picture on the left. And even though I have never been, or had any relatives who have been, Amish, I have worn a similar beard since 1972—and I made the decision to grow an “Amish beard" partly because of reading what Gish said about his beard.

Just two or three weeks ago I heard the sad news that Art Gish had died earlier this year in a farm accident. For decades he had lived and worked on his farm in Ohio growing organic food. But in July the tractor he was driving turned over and caught fire, and he died in that tragic accident.

Thank you for allowing me to share these few words in memory of, and in praise of, Art Gish (and his Amish beard).