Academic studies of Sukyo Mahikari

Research studies of religions can also help to achieve integration of religions, if conducted in a spirit of open-mindedness and cooperation. There have been several academic studies of the Mahikari organisation, particularly by anthropologists, sociologists and researchers in related fields, who consider it a religion (Koepping, 1967; Davis, 1980; Hurbon, 1991; Cornille, 1991; 1994; 2000; McVeigh, 1992 a, b, c; 1993; 1995; 1997; Young, 1993; Somers, 1994; Melton & Jones, 1994; Knecht, 1995; Bernard-Mirtil, 1998; Bouma, Smith & Vasi, 2000; Matsunaga, 2000; Clarke, 2000). Coming from an academic background myself, I am pleased to see that different researchers are studying the Mahikari organisation. Good research studies by neutral investigators can help humankind to learn about this organisation with less bias than there may be from some Mahikari members, who may report about themselves or their families with much emotional content and who may not see everything in perspective. On the other hand, if researchers make interpretations or draw conclusions from insufficient data, or if they are biased and conduct their research with pre-formed conclusions, the value of the studies becomes questionable.

By and large, where the researchers cited above reported facts and figures, events, case studies and so on, the studies provide valuable information. It is unfortunate, however, that there are areas where some of the researchers have misinterpreted their observations or have drawn hasty conclusions from too little observation. For example, Davis (1980) gave informative data and case studies of Mahikari people’s experiences, based on research he did in Japan over a few months. He is the first academic researcher (a sociologist) to publish a detailed book on the Mahikari organisation and is therefore frequently quoted by subsequent researchers as being an authority on the subject. However, he admitted that he could not believe in the reality of the very phenomena he studied. He wrote: . . . I accidentally came upon an exorcistic group called the True-Light Supra-Religious Organization, known as Sukyo Mahikari in Japanese, this sect turned out to be the most primitive religious community I had ever encountered in Japan.

I found little in Mahikari that I could empathize with personally. Its belief in spirit possession, its idea that ‘medicine is poison’, its latent ethnocentrism and manifest occultism, taxed patience and scholarly objectivity alike (p. vii).

He also said that he was not enthusiastic to practise the art of True Light, but instead “much preferred to sit quietly in the empty room beneath the church, interviewing members and recording their miracles and encounters with the spirit world one by one” (p. x).

With all due respect for the valuable contributions, I feel that it would be difficult for anyone with such a strong and biased view to be objective in drawing conclusions from the observations made. Davis could not accept that True Light produces effects and concluded that the “more dramatic possession experiences I observed in the dojo seem best accounted for by the psychological concepts of dissociation and hypnotic suggestion” (p. 143). In addition, he concludes there are “. . . four ways in which okiyome heals: by ritualizing social interaction, by catharsis, by the quiet restoration of confidence, and by creating a new persona” (p. 159).

Subsequent researchers keep citing many of his views as plausible. I have been an active scientist for more than 10 years and a practitioner of Mahikari for more than 28 years, and there is no doubt whatsoever that there is a very real power in the practice of True Light. In fact, this is the central issue of the Sukyo Mahikari organisation. It is the main reason that people join the organisation, I believe. Without this, the teachings, procedures and customs within the organisation would have little attraction for most people at the beginning. What particularly impressed me about Sukyo Mahikari in the early days was that I could demonstrate the existence of the power of True Light on beans, bacterial growth, bread, plants and animals, in other words, non-human systems – which rules out the implication that the results of True Light may be due to suggestion or belief. Even though my first book on Mahikari (Tebecis, 1982) is cited by most researchers, I feel that this important point about the demonstrable power of True Light has not received sufficient attention in academic studies of Sukyo Mahikari.

McVeigh has published prolifically on Sukyo Mahikari. He became more involved with Mahikari, and over a longer period, than the researchers before him, and he described many aspects of Sukyo Mahikari in painstaking detail. This is admirable. However, it is unfortunate that some of his conclusions and opinions weaken otherwise thorough and detailed studies. For example, in one study McVeigh (1992b) correctly pointed out that achieving purity is one of the central issues in Sukyo Mahikari. However, he concluded that “The centrality of the concept of purification in Mahikari should alert us to its political nature . . . Such a system of thought does not just come into existence. It is the product of conscious decisions made by social actors over the course of time” (p. 100–101). In other words, he implies that the Mahikari organisation has a hidden agenda in trying to keep members by not being totally honest.

Such a view surprises me. Why be suspicious and look for obscure reasons to explain why people do what they do in Sukyo Mahikari? The Light of God really does purify. It can be experienced and demonstrated. The power of the Amatsu Norigoto prayer of purification can also be experienced and demonstrated. It seems to me that McVeigh would have come to different conclusions had he had more experience with the practical aspect of giving and receiving True Light. Nevertheless, it is commendable that he attended the primary course and seriously studied Sukyo Mahikari in other ways.

Hurbon (1991), in a report on a study of Mahikari in the Caribbean, stated that “Every illness is deemed to have its source in the action of ‘possessing spirits’ (p. 246) . . . Medications and surgical interventions are considered to be ‘barbaric’ and ‘superstitious’ practices which one must get rid of as quickly as possible in order to become receptive to the benefits of Mahikari” (p. 247). These statements are simply not true. Sukuinushisama pointed out that most, not all, problems stem from spirit disturbance and therefore, in general, the resolving of spirit disturbance is important. However, he also explained that mental and physical aspects have to be taken care of as well. In Sukyo Mahikari it is recognised that medication and surgery have harmful effects (something that is becoming well known by many people in society and is reported by medical doctors), but that sometimes it is necessary to undergo such treatment (see chapter 6). In such cases one is encouraged to be grateful for the medical profession and the treatment received. It has always been the aim of Sukyo Mahikari to achieve a harmonious integration of spiritual medicine and conventional medical science, that is, a holistic approach to care for the spirit, mind and body.

As regards spirits, Young (1993) stated that “The amulet is thus a shield against harmful influences from the outside, but spirits already residing in one’s body can only be dislodged by undergoing the exorcism ritual called okiyome (p. 246) . . . possession is an induced or learned behaviour. That is to say, it occurs only inside the practice hall during the exorcism ritual (p. 247) . . . Spirits . . . are malevolent and therefore dangerous, but they are not absolutely evil either” (p. 247). Unfortunately, such statements are inaccurate and give a mistaken view of the approach in Sukyo Mahikari concerning spirits. As pointed out in chapter 4, the whole aim of giving the Light is to purify people spiritually, mentally and physically as well as any spirits attached, with the purpose of achieving spiritual elevation and salvation for both the people and the spirits attached to them. There is no view in Sukyo Mahikari that possessing spirits are necessarily malicious either, any more than people in the physical world. After all, such spirits may even include one’s dearly-loved, deceased father or grandmother. Moreover, possession does not occur by moving into a Mahikari Centre, but is something that is more or less a continuous condition in people. It is simply that at a Mahikari Centre such conditions are sometimes uncovered more clearly through the practice of True Light.

McVeigh (1993), in a study on the role of the body in Sukyo Mahikari activities, concluded that “the body becomes an arena in which cosmic powers – that is, possessing spirits – act out a morality play involving key normative principles” (p. 141). It seems to me that McVeigh has not understood the key issue in Sukyo Mahikari, as he stated later: ”Though the word okiyome literally means ‘purification’, members often use it to refer to an exorcism ritual. However, according to members, okiyome is not exorcism . . . Nevertheless, I believe that this activity, if compared to other similar activities in Japan’s religious landscape, both current and past, is in fact an exorcism ritual” (p.142).

Cornille (1994) said that: “the worldview of Mahikari is based on a syncretism of Shinto, Buddhist, and Shamanistic elements . . . The Buddhist influence on Mahikari manifests itself in the beliefs in karma and reincarnation . . .” (p. 92). The truth of the matter is that any similarities between Sukyo Mahikari and religions is due to the fact that religions have various degrees of understanding of universal laws in their teachings, so one would expect to find similarities. As regards karma and reincarnation, for instance, mystics and philosophers from amongst the Celts and Druids, the ancient European races before the advent of Catholic Christianity, certain ancient elements of Judaism and Christianity, Pythagoras, Plato and the Greek mystics, the Sufis, Buddha, the third century Mani and his successors, the yogis and the Hindus of India, people of China and other countries of the East – all these and more have spoken of reincarnation and the law of cause and effect. I do not think that belief in karma and reincarnation can be equated with having a “Buddhist influence”.

Amongst the conclusions of many of the cited researchers is that the aim of True Light is healing. I can understand that many would gain that impression if they have limited experience with Sukyo Mahikari, as I explained in chapter 2. However, healing is not the aim. All kamikumite are taught the aim of the art of True Light at the primary course, in study classes, through divine books and (in many Mahikari Centres) by a sign on the wall: The aim of the art of True Light, purification, is not to heal disease, but to purify the person’s spirit, mind and body, in order to revive the original power as a child of God, eventually becoming divine in nature. The art of True Light is thus a great spiritual practice of salvation which stems from God’s great love, a practice enabling all humankind to participate in the holy work of accomplishing the divine plan. The healing and other benefits of the Light of God are a valuable by-product when efforts are made in directing oneself towards God and being of use to fulfil the divine plan; they are not the main focus of attention (see last part of this chapter).

More recent academic researchers have made efforts to obtain information by conducting research based on participant observation and by verifying their intended interpretations through thorough consultation. Bernard-Mirtil (1998) is a researcher who has made rather accurate observations of Sukyo Mahikari through long-term study.

A study of Sukyo Mahikari in Australia was made by Dr Wendy Smith, an anthropologist, and the results were published by Bouma, Smith & Vasi (2000). She pointed out that “. . . Mahikari members emphasise that the aim of giving the True Light is for purification . . . True Light is best accompanied by the individual’s grateful attitude . . . ultimate aim – spiritual elevation” (p. 80).

“People within Mahikari emphasise that the experience of receiving the transmission of True Light is the most important aspect in trying to understand Mahikari. Intellectual understanding alone is not sufficient” (p. 79). She also reported that “According to Mahikari teachings, 80 per cent of health and other human problems with emotional and mental states, relationships and even economic matters, are caused by attaching spirits”. True Light is “to purify and help these spirits” (p. 80). Dr Smith participated in various Mahikari activities on a number of occasions as an anthropologist. She wrote, “I too experienced the ‘experiences’ that Mahikari members talk about – a painful toothache was alleviated and I was able to do without the prescription glasses I normally need for reading” (p. 79). Also, “The atmosphere of the centres is very bright and positive, and the attitude of members is very friendly, welcoming and sincere. The humility of senior members and their altruistic concern for individuals and humankind leaves a deep impression” (p. 83).

Similarly, Matsunaga (2000) has made a largely accurate report on Sukyo Mahikari in the United Kingdom, no doubt because she approached her research as a participant (including participation in the primary course, although she did not receive the sacred locket, Omitama), held interviews and analysed questionnaires – all over a reasonable time period. Also, she did not try to overdo the interpretation of her observations. A common approach of some of the previous researchers on Mahikari, I feel, was to draw rather strong conclusions from very limited observations. I can also understand that the early researchers would have had extra challenges to overcome when the Mahikari organisation was small and not so well-known, there was little or no literature on Mahikari in English, and there were differing views about some issues even within the organisation as it developed (see chapter 2).

§

This is not the place to go into a detailed appraisal of all these academic studies. There are accuracies and inaccuracies. I am merely pointing out some of the more glaring anomalies to show how otherwise good studies can be weakened if they include speculation that is unjustified. One glaring, serious mistake in a research report will tend to make already well-informed readers dismiss the rest of the paper as of little use, even if the rest is accurate. A problem in academic circles is that other researchers tend to quote statements previous authors have made, and these views then become propagated from one to another, gradually taking on the appearance of truth, even though the original premise may have been totally unjustified. I am familiar with this because I used to write research reports myself.

I would like to encourage people who research religious movements, and make three suggestions so that their work can be more valuable. Firstly, that they try to experience thoroughly, preferably long-term, and with respect and an open mind, the phenomena they write about. Secondly, that they put effort into accurate description in their report without trying to interpret everything and drawing firm conclusions. Thirdly, that after they have written up their research report, they show it to appropriate experienced practitioners of the religious movement for comments (preferably more than once).

As regards the first, the importance of experience, take the example of cricket. Academic researchers who have never played cricket may spend months watching it, analysing the ‘rituals’ and the ‘magic’, speculating about why ‘converts’ have been ‘recruited’ for cricket, and so on, but they would probably make a number of mistaken interpretations and conclusions about cricket. Non-cricketers may be misled by their report and cricketers may dismiss the report as so far “off the track” that it could not be regarded seriously. Depending on the mistakes, the report may also infuriate cricketers or make them lose respect for academics. The report would not be of so much value in the long term. If, however, the same academics were to actually learn the basic rules of cricket, how to score, bat, bowl and field, from experienced cricketers by playing cricket themselves, their report would no doubt be more useful to both non-cricketers and cricketers.

I do not think that the various subtleties of cricket can ever be understood just by recording behaviour as an outside observer or by analysing responses to questionnaires filled out by the cricketers. Interviewing the players would provide some valuable information, but if the interviewer does not have any feel for cricket, and does not respect or take seriously the beliefs that cricketers themselves have about cricket, he would not be able to formulate appropriate questions or be sensitive to the different nuances in the answers. Yet that is how religious movements are often studied academically.

Certain things, particularly involving human consciousness, beliefs, behaviour and so on, cannot be understood deeply without personal experience. The usual academic approach using the ‘scientific method’ has emphasised being objective by studying the subject as an outside observer. This has certain merits, but I believe that a combination of both the subjective, experiential approach and the outside observer approach is necessary when it comes to studying humans. Alone, either extreme is limiting and can lead to incorrect conclusions.

It is possible to study Sukyo Mahikari effectively through a combination of both approaches. Rich, subjective experiences will be provided through being a practitioner of the art of True Light and building up experiences by receiving and giving Light to others. Doing demographic studies, collecting data through questionnaires and case studies will provide information of another kind. When academics combine the two aspects, preferably long-term, in my opinion their contributions will be far more valuable.

As regards points 2 and 3 – putting effort into accurate description and showing the intended publication to experienced members of the particular religion under study to consider their evaluations before making firm conclusions – I am surprised at how confident some researchers are in making interpretations and conclusions without consultation, based on information from limited interviews or questionnaires involving a small number of people and often conducted over a space of only a few months.

Showing the intended publication on a religious organisation to appropriate authorities in that organisation for their comments is a natural safeguard for researchers to learn from the views of people who are far more familiar with the issues under question than the researchers themselves.

Good research on religion is very valuable for people both within and outside the religion. Accurate information, not necessarily always favourable to the religion under study, can nevertheless be valuable, appreciated and respected by the members of that religion. It can help to achieve understanding, cooperation and unity of people with different beliefs.