Buddhist Personality - Ryuho Ikeguchi

In the final days of 2011, Buddhist monk Ryuho Ikeguchi knelt before about 20 young people at a yoga event in Osaka. Sweating along with the participants as they went through a set of exercises, he spoke to them, though perhaps not in the manner one might expect from a monk.

I'm approaching things from a different place, asking the people if they would like to talk to this monk facing them, but outside the structure of Buddhism, says Ikeguchi, a 31-year-old monk at Chion-in temple in Kyoto's Higashiyama Ward -- head temple of the Pure Land sect. I want to better the image of Buddhist monks.





















Ikeguchi, originally from Hyogo Prefecture, had been following the life path tread by many of his family before him, studying Buddhist scripture at Kyoto University's graduate school and helping at the family-run temple. As part of his duties there he visited elderly temple parishioners, who invariably talked to him of the weather and their aches and pains.

There's no need for me, in particular, to do this, he thought. After all, Buddhist texts had nothing to say on the subject of joint pain. With this in mind, he began to shift his studies from scripture to the relationship between Buddhism and society. Against the express direction of his academic supervisors, Ikeguchi began to write his thesis on the subject. His supervisors fought his new direction furiously, and in the end he quit graduate school.

Ikeguchi joined Chion-in temple in 2005, but despite the company of some 100 monks, he felt no energy, no drive there. The label funeral Buddhism -- Buddhism as a religion practiced only as ceremonies for the dead -- had been slapped on the temple for some time, and even the funerals themselves were becoming simpler by the year. Visitor numbers were falling, and Ikeguchi began to wonder if people even thought of him and the other monks as superfluous. He began studying computer programming in preparation for a career change.

However, Ikeguchi hit upon a different sort of change. Hoping to make Buddhism relevant to society again, he decided to start a free magazine. And so began Free Style-na Soryo-tachi (Free Style Monks), written and edited by a staff of monks all in their 20s and 30s, some of whom came into the project through Twitter connections.

The magazine often features members of different sects as well as experts in the sociology of religion. There are also stories on monks doing support work for the homeless or the surviving families of suicides, discussions among young monks and academics on the future of Buddhism in Japan, pieces on the appeal of temple lodgings and even vegetarian recipes. Ikeguchi and the troupe behind the magazine believe that the way Buddhism is being communicated to young people is all wrong, and the free publication is part of their solution. So are the yoga events.

Ikeguchi has not faced an entirely warm reception, with many around him questioning what there is to gain from associating with different sects. However, Even regular companies should study the competition, he says, adding that understanding of what he's trying to do is growing as his efforts inspire positive responses from young people and attract increasing media attention.

The Free Style magazine is run out of just a single room in an apartment, packed with audio equipment, Buddhism-themed manga and even a small Buddhist altar. At present, each issue runs 10,000 copies, distributed at cafes in Kyoto and Tokyo.
People who were raised with their hands pressed together in prayer have a core, a center to the way they live, says Ikeguchi. But speaking to people who are confused about god or the Buddha, well ... That's where we have to do our absolute best. If everyone runs away from religion, our society will not improve.