The Eternal Calm (short novel)
This is a translation of my short novel, originally written in Japanese.
A song. A slightly off-key soprano wavers in the summer sunset. A faint voice, after so much crying, is almost lost in the songs of cicadas from high up in the trees of the vast garden. I drew near to where the voice was coming from. In the old mansion, at the corner of a winding hallway, towards the dusk, and towards the large room.
The assistant pastor of my church was killed. It’s been a week since the night of the summer festival when a man with a knife took his life. It was as if he went willingly to his death. He threw himself in front of the attacker, among the crowds of people, on purpose, to be the only sacrifice.
I don’t even know if I was sad or not. It just took my breath away. His intense resolution. I was told that before he took his last breath at the hospital, he whispered to his wife, “To live is Christ. To die is gain.” It all felt so vivid to me, I almost felt breathless.
He was born into an old family, in the city of Matsumoto, Nagano prefecture, and was baptized while he was studying in the United States. He refused to worship his ancestors, saying “I am saved by Jesus, filled with the Holy Ghost.” and discarded the domestic Buddhist shrine that had been handed down for hundreds of years in his family, His family had been village headman in the Edo period. He, the master of an old family, disowned and excommunicated by all his clan. He was gossiped about, as “the Christ-crazy”.
After he burned all the bridges, he opened his grand mansion, complete with a long fence and large gate, not too far from Matsumoto castle, as a home church. It’s been over ten years since I started attending this church. I witnessed everything by his side. So, I can confidently say, that Brother Maki was truly a Christ crazy. Izumi Maki, aged 52.
The song was too faint, so I slightly opened the sliding door to hear it better. Between the Urushi edge of the door, the cold, intense atmosphere of the room hit my nose. I risked getting scolded, but it was a familiar song. Yes, that was the song I sang five or six years ago. Brother Maki translated a song written by someone else and asked me to sing it saying “Kume-kun, you have such a nice voice, you should sing instead of me.” I responded, “It’s a gloomy song, just like you are.” and he playfully punched me.
How could she remember such an old song? After that, I sang it two or three times on Sunday, and Brother Maki and I completely forgot about it. “Nah, I’m no good at translating songs. I won’t do it anymore.” And he never translated a song after that.
The hurt will never stop the music
All the pain can never stop the praise
And all the crying just push me more to worship
And all the heartaches, failures and mistakes
Can never take away the music..
Can never take away the praise
My heart will always say, I will trust You Lord
and bless Your Holy Name
For all the pain and hurt will never stop the music.
From a narrow opening, I could see Brother Maki’s lifeless body lying in a white casket. After the incident, his body was held by the police for an autopsy and it was unclear when he would be returned. After a long wait, his body was returned, embalmed and appearing clean and smooth despite the death it had endured. Although the practice of embalming is not common in Japan, Pastor Paul, our American pastor, insisted on it.
All the fluids were were removed and preservatives were poured in. As a result, he looked as though he was merely sleeping, and it was safe to touch him. Leaning over the casket, the newly widowed Sister Yae held her deceased husband’s hand and pressed it to her cheek. Since the body was returned, she has not left the room. We have to cremate his body tomorrow after the funeral, but we can’t bring ourselves to tell her. “She might even commit Sati.” said her cousin, Sister Akari. Confused, I asked her back, “What, a Settee?” Sister Akari laughed at my misunderstandings.
He never said you won't have no problem
Or that you'll never experience many battles
But through it all, He said He'll never leave you
And all those wounds you have and all the battle scars
If nothing can separate us
From the precious love of God
Then neither death nor life, neither depth nor height,
no matter what it is, it can never take away, it can never take away
Sister Yae sang with a faint voice, so worn out it was hardly presentable. Yet, she looked like an angel, wrapped in a white blanket. After her husband’s death, she nearly lost her mind. It was somewhat surprising to see her in such a state. They weren't the most affectionate couple, they had no children, and she had enough wealth to sustain her for a lifetime despite her husband’s death.
Only when I see her, does Brother Maki’s death become sad. His action, calmly passing into the eternity, raises the question whether it was self-complacent or not. It almost makes me want to say something to him about leaving her in such a storm.
In the empty room, with a white casket, Sister Yae is singing. There is no pretense in her voice. The one who had spoken suicidal words just a few hours ago, is now singing, sure of Christ's love, her wet eyes lit with victory.
I wanted to ask her why, though I knew. Why can you sing in such a situation? I knew, that it is just a momentary calm. She might again utter suicidal words and she will not take her husband’s cremateon easily. But right at this moment, she is worshipping. The worship, only a widow whose husband has recently died can give. It is a graphic praise to Jesus Christ.
She was not an angel. For angels cannot give praise like this. Atoned by suffering, bleeding praise, powerful worship. Angels have never sinned nor lived a life. Angels cannot whisper to God, “Even though, even though I love you, Jesus.”
I couldn’t bear it any longer and opened the door to enter. Sister Yae looked turned towards me, rubbing her tear-swollen eyes. Beside her lay the body of Brother Maki, who had now entered into the Eternal calm by now. He was dressed in a gray linen suit, a gentle expression on his face. I felt a pang of envy. Despite I had scolded her for expressing a desire to die. Those of us left behind are tossed about in life’s stormy sea.
“Do you need something?”
Sister Yae asked, giving me a displeased look, for interrupting her time of worship. She, who had opened her home as her church, had no privacy. I averted my eyes from her, as she lovingly held a lifeless hand in her own, and shook my head. I wanted to say something, but couldn’t.
Quietly I approached the casket and touched his stomach, covered by a shirt. It must have been around here, that he was stabbed. “Stop it, that’s disgusting” I imagined Brother Maki saying. On the other side of the casket, Sister Yae looked at me suspiciously, clearly thinking my action was also distasteful.
↑The song by Bro Fed Music, Appearing in the novel. It is translated to Japanese for this novel.