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If you were invited to a tea ceremony — more properly known by its Japanese name of chanoyu, since it's not really a ceremony at all — what you would see is the host carrying an assortment of objects into the room, arranging and cleaning them very carefully, and whisking a bowl of tea for each guest. Once everyone has had their fill of tea and sweets, the host cleans up and carries the utensils back into the kitchen. Only then would you and the other guests bid farewell and leave.
As you watch the host prepare to make tea,
it might seem to you that every move is made deliberately, and
that the host pays special attention to each object he or she
touches. What might not be obvious at first sight is that every
move both host and guests make is strictly choreographed, from
the order that the utensils are picked up and put down, to the
way they are held, to the spots where those items are placed,
usually to within the nearest centimeter. There are dozens of
different chanoyu procedures — temae in Japanese — and even the simplest
of these takes months for a beginner to learn.
If you're the practical sort, you might
ask, "Why all the fuss? Why not just boil some water and
mix it up with tea in a bowl? What's the point of having all
this ritual?"
If the goal of chanoyu was just to drink tea, there wouldn't be much
point to it at all. But chanoyu isn't just about tea; it's about an experience.
The place, the people, even the sequence of events are unique.
Even if everyone in that room were to come back again the next
day at exactly the same time, sit in the same order and watch
the host do exactly the same thing, it would still be
different. Why? Because the people themselves will be different:
they've lived through another day, they're thinking about
different things, and the feeling in the room will be subtly
different. That's what chanoyu is about -- creating a feeling of beauty
and harmony, and an appreciation for the fact that this moment
will never come again.
The experience of tea has many layers, some
aesthetic and some spiritual. While some of the nuances will be
lost on a person who isn't familiar with chanoyu, everyone in
the room should be able to share the experience, even if a
person has never been to a tea gathering before.
The aesthetics are seen in the choice of
"theme" for a gathering. The host will carefully
choose each of the utensils he or she uses, as well as the food
that's served and the scroll that is hanging in the room, to
reflect an idea that he or she wants to convey. The bowl (chawan), tea scoop (chashaku), the
container the tea is held in (natsume or chaire), and the tea itself (matcha) are especially important. There are a
number of different factors to consider, including the season,
the reason for the gathering (perhaps to celebrate a holiday
like the New Year, or to share one last bowl of tea before a
friend moves away), and the people who are going to be invited.
So far, Japanese tea is not so different
from the rituals surrounding British high tea — both have
their own etiquette, a set of rules that includes the proper
way of doing everything. Where chanoyu differs is its spiritual element. It's a
discipline that can be practiced for a lifetime, not just a
process to learn and be done with.
It begins with the interaction between the
people in the room, both host and guests. The host strives to
get every detail right, focusing on the procedure as well as
the guests to ensure that everyone has a good time. Training to
do chanoyu, an experienced host will have developed a mental
focus that will allow him or her to be aware of everything in
the room at once.
For the host, the practice of chanoyu can
become a type of meditation. By forcing the mind to focus on
what the body is doing rather than just performing a memorized
sequence of moves, the host becomes rooted in the present
moment, a state of mind that can expand one's perceptions. When
making tea for guests, the host tries to communicate that state
of mind, bringing everyone into the moment.
The guests, in turn, are very respectful
and appreciative of the host and of each other. The
conversation is kept light, and at the appropriate times
everyone falls silent and enjoys the tea as it unfolds. The
guests also have a procedure to follow, and that ensures that
they are paying attention even when their full attention is not
on the host.
The ultimate goal of a tea gathering
is to create an experience that touches all five of the senses,
and the heart as well.
Something with this many nuances couldn't
have been created overnight, and, in fact, chanoyu as we know it
today developed over the course of centuries.
The practice of drinking tea originated in
China. The groundwork for chanoyu was laid by the Ch'a Ching, or The
Classic of Tea, written by a Chinese scholar named Lu Yu in the
T'ang Dynasty (618-907 AD). During that period, tea was first
introduced to Japan from China to Japan as priests returning
from their Buddhist studies brought the practice of brewing tea
along with them. At that time, tea was used primarily for
medicinal purposes, and to keep awake during meditation.
It wasn't until a Zen monk named Eisai
(1141-1215) began to promote tea drinking that the practice
became widespread. He focused on the medical benefits of tea,
and even presented some to the shogun of Japan (as the story
goes) as a cure for hangovers. After receiving the shogun's
official recognition, Eisai began distributing seeds through
Japan, and tea drinking was on its way to becoming a common
practice.
By 1400, tea had spread from the nobility
down through the samurai and Buddhist clergy to the wealthy
merchants. Among the samurai and nobility there were contests
to see who could distinguish between different types of tea,
and increasingly elaborate gatherings designed to show off
their rare or expensive utensils, usually Chinese. It was also
during this period that tea became more and more systemized,
and set procedures began to be established.
As a reaction to the growing flamboyancy of
tea, a Zen priest named Murata Shuko (1423-1502) designed a new
way of doing tea which he called soan-cha, or grass-hut tea.
Abandoning the ostentatious reception rooms of the nobility,
Shuko held his gatherings in a simple room the size of 4 1/2
tatami mats, or nine feet square. Although he didn't abandon
the elegant Chinese tea utensils, he focused more on simple
Japanese items, with the goal of simplifying the practice of
tea and adding a Zen element. In fact, the formal rules of
chanoyu were based on the guidelines for communal tea
ceremonies in Chinese Zen temples.
As Shuko's way of doing tea became more
popular, it was formalized into a system; it became a
discipline, a way to train the mind, rather than simple
entertainment. The way of tea passed from teacher to student,
each refining the practice a bit more.
Rikyu's favored style of tea was wabicha,
or "tea of quiet taste," because of its aesthetic of
subtle beauty and its emphasis on items used in daily life.
Simple, inexpensive utensils that were flawed or worn from use
were elevated to the ideal.
Rikyu was a wealthy member of the merchant
class in the independent port city of Sakai, and he pursued the
study of chanoyu seriously from a young age. The combination of
social status and a natural ability for tea made him one of the
city’s most recognized masters. As his fame spread, he
became the tea master for shogun Oda Nobunaga, one of
Japan’s most famous military rulers, and later for
Nobunaga's successor, Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Although Rikyu was
highly respected as both a tea master and a political advisor,
later in life he was at odds with the hot-tempered Hideyoshi,
who eventually ordered him to commit suicide.
After Rikyu's death, his style of tea was
continued by his grandson, Sen Sotan. When Sotan died in 1658,
his property was divided among his three sons, each of whom
established a separate school of tea: Omotosenke, Urasenke, and
Mushanokoji-Senke. The Senke schools became allied with the
nobility, and were supported by noble patrons until the
breakdown of the feudal system in the Meiji era. All three
schools are in existence today, with the leadership of the
school passed down from father to son.
Among the warrior classes, the tea styles
of Furuta Oribe (1544-1615), Kobori Enshu (1579-1647), and
Katagiri Sekishu (1605-1673) were favored, and each gave birth
to his own school. Another popular movement was developed
by Yabunouchi Kenchu Jochi (1536-1627), who advocated a return
to the original principles of tea, with the emphasis on
simplicity and aesthetics and a refusal to do tea for profit.
Many tea schools flourished in the centuries following Rikyu's
death, and some of those survive to this day.
When the Meiji period began in 1868, the
shogunate lost its power and most of the tea masters of the day
lost their support. Chanoyu survived by changing its face: Where before it
was practiced primarily by the wealthy and the upper classes,
it became an activity that everyone could enjoy. For the first
time, that included women, who before had generally been
excluded from chanoyu; tea was now taught at women's colleges and
high schools.
During the reformation of the Meiji era, it
became common practice to sell off old, treasured cultural
items like tea utensils, usually to buyers in the West. To
preserve what they saw as the deterioration of Japanese
culture, wealthy businessmen began buying up those utensils to
save them for future generations. Those businessmen also took
the place of the nobility in supporting the tea schools,
helping them to survive the transitional times.
Modern chanoyu is taught in Japan today for a number of reasons:
as a social practice, as a way to discipline the mind and
body, and as a way to connect with Japan's cultural history,
among others. Although chanoyu remains a widespread practice, not all
Japanese study it or are familiar with tea etiquette.
As Japanese culture spread outward,
Westerners became intrigued with chanoyu, and began to become tea students themselves. The
movement was given a boost by the 14th-generation Grand Master
of the Urasenke school, Tantansai Sekiso, and his son, Hounsai.
Starting shortly after World War II, Hounsai O-Iemoto traveled
extensively to educate the rest of the world about chanoyu, and
established branches of the Urasenke school overseas.
Today, there are Urasenke branches in
Mexico, Canada, Brazil, Australia, England, France, Germany,
Italy, China, and Korea, and chanoyu associations in many other countries. In
the United States, there are branches in Hawaii, New York, San
Francisco, Seattle, and Washington, D.C., and associations in
Boston, Los Angeles, and Portland. (Our Philadelphia-based
group is affiliated with the New York branch.)
In December 2002, Hounsai retired, passing
the leadership of the school to his oldest son, Zabosai Soshi
Sen. Like many Grand Masters before him, he is an ordained
Buddhist monk, serving as he resident abbot of Kyoshin'an, a
temple of the Myoshinji branch of the Rinzai Zen sect. In
addition to running the Urasenke school and its related
organizations, he is a college professor, and is involved with
many other cultural associations besides.
Now bearing the title of Daisosho (former
Grand Master), Hounsai continues to travel around the world,
sharing his vision of “peace through a bowl of tea”
with heads of state and ordinary folk alike.
