Wednesday, January 17, 2024

Mizuko Kuyo

 “For in You, the fatherless find compassion." ~ Hosea 14:3

Cheryl walked cheerfully past the playground, dreaming into the future, already creating memories of what her life would be like in 32 weeks. She sensed the reality of her life shifting upon its axis.

Then, just like that – it was over.

She tried convincing herself that she was being superstitious and absurd. But when her doctor confirmed the miscarriage, Cheryl slipped deeply into grief’s paresis, self-isolated by irrational feelings of failure and guilt.

Oddly, even in this era of obsessive confession, these fatalities aren’t often spoken about publicly. Women you’ve known for years who’ve experienced the same loss tell only if you become one of them. Our society doesn’t like unhappy endings.

Cheryl walked around for weeks in a daze, not knowing what to do with her sadness. Her actions felt mechanical, her voice stifled. Then a Japanese friend suggested “Mizuo Kuyo” - a memorial service honoring unborn children who’ve been lost due to miscarriage, stillbirth, even abortion.

Rituals (kuyo) are an ancient Japanese Buddhist practice. Kuyo for mizuko (child) is a means for releasing feelings of grief and ensuring the safety of their lost child’s spirit in the afterlife. It’s commonly practiced by praying to small stone statues obtained by the deceased child’s parents.

Cheryl chose the Koyasan Buddhist Temple Garden, which was filled with hundreds of childlike statues, wearing rain-soaked bibs and bonnets. It included a playground with swings and slides intended for the children’s spirits.

Walking through, she was hit with the enormity of love and loss it all represented. The ceremony wasn't just about making peace with the past. It was also about letting go of stories she'd been telling herself about the present. It was comforting in its simplicity and formality.

And it sounded familiar. Deep down, we long for a Savior full of compassion and mercy for the weak and lost. It reminded Cheryl of the verse (above) from the book of Hosea. Jizo, as lovely as he sounds, is still a manmade imitation of Jesus Christ.

But seeing it laid out so plainly - especially for grief typically so private - brought Cheryl the peace necessary for healing to begin. For her, it wasn’t as much about statues or chants. It was about compassion - for the losses we suffer, for everyone around us, and for the lives we’re living.

Because of God’s infinite mercy and power of redemption, we believe in the salvation of children who’ve died without the benefit of Baptism through no fault of their own. Scripture teaches that any person whose life ends before they cross the threshold into “spiritual maturity” is redeemed. That person is covered by the blood of Christ and passes immediately into the presence of God.

Loving God, please comfort those hurting right now because of the loss of their child. Wrap your tender arms around them and send people who will love them, comfort them, and who will walk alongside them through this time of mourning. Amen