Ogi was in charge of public relations for the conference, so he heard a lot of these opinions from people outside the church. One fiftyish man from the Old Town introduced himself, undaunted, as someone who'd been active in the movement opposing the move of the church to the Hollow, and came out with the following ambiguous words of praise: "I asked the deputy mayor why they allowed a procession like that carrying fire over such a wide area, and he said that although it was well planned by some young guy, the important thing was that one of the young people from the fire department was in charge, so they couldn't very well call a halt to it! You all are very calculating in what you do, which I find rather frightening!"
On Saturday at 9 A.M. a press conference was held in the dining hall of the monastery for all reporters, including foreign correspondents. Dancer got in touch with Ogi, underscoring her desire for all the leaders of the church, with the exception of Patron, to attend. Dancer herself would be busy at the office, responding to faxes and e-mails and anything unexpected that arose, and wouldn't be able to participate.
Ogi was to be the emcee at the press conference. The church represen- tatives all sat together, their backs to the window looking out on the lake. Ogi was in the middle, Kizu on his right, and next to him was Ikuo, thin and haggard, who sat with his chair pushed back a little. He looked as if he wasn't planning to make any comments but, if need be, was ready to help out.
Next to Ikuo sat Dr. Koga and Mr. Hanawa of the Technicians, while on Ogi's left sat Mr. Soda, Ms. Oyama of the Quiet Women, and finally Gii.
Before the press conference began, Ms. Oyama was speaking with Mr. Soda in a low voice, but Kizu could catch what she said. Mr. Soda's reply was to the question of the canceling of the Quiet Women's children's participation as a group. The women had been looking forward to spending the summer vacation with their children, but with the unexpected problems in finding lodging for all the conference participants, they'd decided at their prayer meeting to give up the idea of having their children join them.
One of the people attending the press conference was Fred Parks, the reporter for the New York newspaper who'd originally told Kizu about the modern buildings in the Shikoku woods. In order to keep reporting from Tokyo, Fred was now a freelance journalist and had expanded his areas beyond the architecture and art fields.
The middle-aged woman Fred had hired as an interpreter turned out to be Ogi's old friend Mrs. Tsugane. Ogi was surprised to see her, but tracing back the connection it made sense that she was here. Ms. Asuka, official videographer of the summer conference, had invited members of the Moosbrugger Commit- tee, and Mrs. Tsugane had answered the call. But since Ms. Asuka already had two assistants handling lighting and sound, Mrs. Tsugane had to find work elsewhere and had replied to a notice on the bulletin board in the monastery courtyard from a reporter seeking an interpreter. Since Ogi had last seen her, she'd divorced her architect husband, and she thought this would be a good opportunity to make some money to cover her traveling expenses.
Just before the press conference started, as Ogi settled down in his emcee's chair, a letter arrived for him, the envelope written on the Japanese washi paper that was a specialty of the Old Town, decorated with a woodblock print. The letter read: After not having seen you for so long, I'm so very pleased to see you're doing well. I'm with a foreigner here to check out the local legends. I'm looking forward to the Spirit Procession today. I understand that if you go deep into the woods on the north side of the valley there's a place called Sheath. In the local legends they say that's another word for vagina. As the name implies, when young men and women go in there they can't help but give in to sexual passion. Putting aside the question of whether I'm young enough to belong there, what do you say? It's been a while.
Why don't we give our passions a run for their money? I was divorced not long ago, so any moral issue that might restrain you has vanished. I have some free time before Patron's public sermon.
You Know Who.
The press conference began, the opening question coming from a fe- male reporter, a third-generation Japanese named Karen Sato from the Los Angeles Times who was also helping a TV team with its coverage. She was in her mid-twenties, and her question was directed to Kizu.
"Professor, since you've given lectures on cross-cultural symbolism, there's something I'd like to ask you," Ms. Sato said, in rapid-fire English, relying too much on what the publicity pamphlet said about Kizu's back- ground and his abilities in English. (Ikuo, who had sat beside Kizu for this very reason, could tell how nonplussed he was and explained basically what the woman had asked. Kizu was typical of his generation in that he could speak English but often had trouble catching what others said.)
"I heard that the children carrying the chochin lanterns last night," the woman continued, "went up into the woods carrying the souls of the dead.
And that these souls return to the valley and enter the bodies of newborn babies. The souls, in other words, in a Neoplatonic way, travel back and forth between the profane world of the valley and the spiritual world of the moun- tains. But if the souls keep on doing this over and over, it reminds one of Buddhist transmigration. So do you interpret it, Professor, from a western or an oriental viewpoint?"
"I know a little about Neoplatonism from the commentaries on Blake's paintings," Kizu replied, "where the soul when it ascends to heaven returns to God's presence and a community of souls. According to the legends of this region, the soul rests in solitude at the base of the selected tree until the time comes for it to be reborn. In Buddhist transmigration, human souls are also reborn in animal bodies, which is different from souls being reborn inside newborn babies. I see the Young Fireflies' view of life and death, based on the premodern life of the people of this region, as something quite unique.
"Imagine, if you will, a solitary village springing up in the midst of a vast forest and coming up with its own legends as if it were a remote island.
The souls of people who live in the village after physical death still remain in the forest that overlooks the valley. And they come down to the valley any number of times. I interpret it as the world of the living and the world of the dead forming, in this topography, a single unit."
"If it's that unique a view of life and death, then I guess it is a religious philosophy, isn't it?" the woman said. "As people with an anti-Japanese reli- gious philosophy coming into the area and building a church, didn't you ex- perience opposition?"
Ms. Sato's question seemed to want to probe further. Ogi picked up the ball and responded.
"I've heard that there was a movement among the townspeople to oppose our move," he said, in the English he'd learned in college, "but since we've actually moved here there's been next to nothing in the way of harassment."
"Your statement implies there was some. Could you give us some examples?"
"Young people from along the river in the valley, and from hamlets in the forest, had formed a group to revive some of the cultural legends of the area. One element of this group made a sort of… installation in the chapel designed to menace us. But that was the end of it. There are almost no local people participating in our church, nor have we been proselytizing in the hope that they would join us. In fact, this conference is the first official opportu- nity for us to get together with the local community."
"I heard that last night's wonderful demonstration was done by young people from the community," the woman reporter went on. "Is this an ex- ception, then, local people who participate in the church?"
"That's correct," Ogi said. "And they aren't members of the church, mind you. As you know, last night's demonstration was a revival of an ancient rite.