A firefly unexpectedly flew into our home on a rainy night in Kamakura. Its visit reminded me of the ancient Hōjō-e ceremony at Tsurugaoka Hachimangū, a tradition rooted in compassion, remembrance, and respect for life.
Last night, I opened the window to check on the rain and found a firefly flying nearby.
It was probably just a coincidence, but something similar happened several years ago.
That time was also shortly after the Hōjō-e ceremony at Tsurugaoka Hachimangū, so I wondered whether a firefly released during the festival had somehow lost its way and ended up at our house.
It landed on my wife's arm and stayed there for a while, as if stopping to visit.
Hōjō-e originally began as a Buddhist ceremony based on the principle of fusesshō—the prohibition against taking life. Animals were released as an expression of gratitude for life and compassion toward living beings. Over time, the practice became associated with Hachiman worship and evolved into a ritual for mourning those who had died in war and reflecting on the violence of human conflict.
At Tsurugaoka Hachimangū, the ceremony was established in 1187 by Minamoto no Yoritomo. It is said that he instituted it as an act of remembrance and repentance following the Genpei War. The tradition later became the origin of the shrine’s grand annual festival and has continued for more than eight centuries.
Today, the ancient custom of releasing birds is no longer practiced, but the underlying spirit—gratitude for the preciousness of life—remains alive through events such as the Firefly Release Festival and the Bell Cricket Release Festival.
In that sense, Hōjō-e is more than a traditional ceremony. It is a ritual that invites us to reflect on lives lost in war, the lives of other creatures, and our own existence.
Even so, there are no streams near our home where fireflies naturally live.
The firefly that visited us yesterday will probably never find a mate and may spend the remainder of its brief life alone.
It was clearly a strong traveler. Even if it managed to reach the stream where other fireflies live, about 700 meters away, many of its companions were likely swept away by last weekend’s typhoon.
Fireflies are fragile creatures.
Every year around the time of Hōjō-e, I find myself wondering where those fireflies come from and who catches them.
I do not know whether they are collected by professionals or by people who happen to live in areas where fireflies are abundant, but I doubt it is purely volunteer work.
I understand the idea of memorializing life through such a ceremony. Still, as I watched that firefly fly off once more in the direction of the shrine, I felt a certain complexity of emotion.
Then again, perhaps it was my younger brother, or my father, or someone else coming to visit for a moment.
So I quietly watched it go.
Sometimes a single wandering firefly can carry more memories than its tiny light seems capable of holding.
・・・
Vocabulary for Learners
wander
To move from place to place without a fixed destination.
さまよう、歩き回る
compassion
A feeling of sympathy and concern for the suffering of others.
思いやり、慈悲
remembrance
The act of remembering and honoring someone or something from the past.
追悼、記憶、追憶
repentance
A feeling of regret for past actions and a desire to make amends.
悔悟、懺悔
preciousness
The quality of being valuable or worthy of care.
尊さ、かけがえのなさ
fragile
Easily damaged, broken, or destroyed.
はかない、壊れやすい
memorialize
To preserve the memory of someone or something.
追悼する、記念する
complexity of emotion
A mixture of different feelings that are difficult to describe simply.
複雑な感情
existence
The state of being alive or being present.
存在、生
quietly watch it go
To see someone or something leave without trying to stop it.
静かに見送る
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