Background for Non-Japanese Readers
In Buddhism, a stupa (known as sotoba in Japanese) is a sacred structure built to enshrine relics or commemorate the Buddha’s teachings.
In Russia, especially in regions like Buryatia and Kalmykia, Buddhism has deep historical roots.
News recently broke that one such sacred site — a Buddhist stupa in Russia — had been destroyed.
For many Buddhists, this was not simply the loss of a physical monument, but the erasure of a place where ordinary people could come and pray.
In Japan, while religion often takes a softer, more syncretic form compared to monotheistic traditions, the idea of “a place for prayer” remains an essential part of everyday life.
This essay reflects on that loss — and on the quiet ways culture and faith can be eroded anywhere in the world.
The starting point was this article:
https://note.com/famous_shark673/n/n5a2e158797a6
When I read the news that a Buddhist stupa — a sacred site in Russia — was being destroyed, the words just slipped out: “Ugh…”
It was not a story from some faraway land. In fact, the same thing has been quietly happening in our own everyday lives.
✍️ Tolerance Is Built on “Room to Breathe”
The old saying goes, “When clothing and food are sufficient, courtesy will flourish.”
It’s cruel to demand cultural respect from those who are starving. Likewise, it’s close to violence to tell people on the verge of losing their spiritual foundation to “be tolerant.”
Tolerance is not merely “the ability to accept differences.”
It is the space wide enough to withstand them.
When a stupa is knocked down, that space undeniably shrinks.
🧭 The Softness of Japanese Faith
For the Japanese, gods are not absolute.
They are negotiating partners — sometimes even objects of frustration.
We may not be deeply devout, yet we still turn to fortune-telling or pray at shrines.
It’s a contradiction, but one that gives birth to a certain gentleness.
From the perspective of an absolutist monotheism, this might seem incomprehensible.
But for us, this softness is the very reality of prayer.
The stupa was a symbol of that softness.
🔥 When Culture Creeps In Quietly
The same faces, the same songs — on the big screens in front of the station, on the shelves of convenience stores.
I don’t mean to deny what people enjoy.
But when all options are painted over by a single choice, it begins to share the same structure as cultural invasion.
When a lack of choice combines with fear of speaking up,
the space for prayer disappears.
✍️ Speaking as a Commoner
I am a former Buddhist priest.
Yet this is not theology — it is the voice of an ordinary person.
Standing before the stupa, I would not pray “Bring it back.”
Rather, I would pray: “Leave space for prayer.”
When culture is invaded and religion is destroyed,
the voices of ordinary people are the first to be silenced.
That is why I speak — praying, and also burning with anger.
🕊️ To Protect the Space for Prayer
To some, this piece may also appear intolerant.
Even so, I must speak.
Because if we do not voice our unease, there will be no room left to protect.
The destruction of the stupa was not the removal of a building.
It was the erasure of a place where ordinary people could pray.
I do not want to forget that pain.
And so, I can only pray for a peaceful resolution.
日本語版note：
卒塔婆が壊された日。かなたから聞こえる嘆き、「祈りの余白」が削られる音
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