Friday, June 5--"The Way of Tea"

Tea was first introduced to Japan in the 9th century, but it wasn’t until the 13th century that the tea ceremony began to evolve. These somber rituals, influenced by many aspects of Buddhism, remained primarily a pastime of the wealthy until the 16th century. By that time, tea was being regularly enjoyed by all levels of society, and a prominent figure in the history of the tea ceremony, Sen no Rikyu set forth four principles that are still key to the “way of tea” today—harmony, respect, purity, and tranquility. The most important tenet of the tea ceremony (or any aspect of your life, for that matter) is “ichi-go, ichi-e,” which means that each moment is a once in a lifetime occurrence unable to be replicated, and therefore must be treasured.

The staff of JMSDF arranged for the American instructors to experience the “way of tea” this morning. We only got an introductory course to this important cultural ritual, rather than the full four-hour ceremony (much to my great relief—I was worried about having to sit Japanese-style for so long). In a demonstration, we learned the importance of simplicity of the room (the only decorations are a single scroll and an ikebana flower arrangement in an alcove) and how the design of the tea tools is to be admired and appreciated. We saw how the guests enter the tea room, how the hostess welcomes guests, and how she makes and serves the tea. Everything about the ceremony is learned through years of instruction—each movement is carefully choreographed, and many are too subtle to be noticed by an untrained eye. You can see some of this graceful action in this short video.

After observing the ceremony, we were taken to the dining room where half of us became hosts and were taught to make tea to serve to the “guest” sitting across the table from us. The tea used in the ceremony is powdered green tea, or matcha, which we carefully measured out from a lacquer container into a bowl using a bamboo scoop. Hot water was added, and then the mixture was whisked with a bamboo whisk until it was foamy. While the tea was being prepared, the guest ate a small sweet to cut down on the bitterness of the tea that was to come. The host passed the tea bowl across to the guest, who rotated it so as not to drink from the front. The tea was sipped (only about three sips-worth in the bowl), then the bowl was rotated back to its original position and returned to the host. We then switched roles, and hosts became guests. As a host, I felt like all thumbs as I was trying to handle the tea tools gracefully—I see why it takes years of practice to become proficient at this. As a guest, I was pleasantly surprised by the sweetness of the sweet (most Japanese sweets do not live up to the title), and how effectively it cut the bitterness of the tea. I was perplexed, however, by the front of the tea bowl—I saw nothing to distinguish the front from the back or the sides. Turns out you have to pay attention to the way the host presents it to you. The side facing you when she passes it automatically becomes the front, and you must remember how far you turn it before drinking, so you can restore it to its original position before handing it back.

I enjoyed this taste of Japanese culture, but I don’t think I’m up for the entire four-hour ritual. It is supposed to be a calming experience, but I would be stressed trying to figure out all of the nuances of the ceremony.