There are moments during Japanese festivals when our hearts swell with emotion, and sometimes, tears well up in our eyes.
The rhythmic beat of taiko drums, the dazzling costumes, and the fireworks painting the night sky—all of it is filled with the brilliance and fervor of celebration. Yet, beneath the surface of this vibrant spectacle, something profoundly moves us.

Each time the festival music resounds, our chests tighten with emotion.
Each time the mikoshi (portable shrine) and floats parade through the streets, our hearts race with excitement.
And each time a grand firework blooms in the night sky, an indescribable feeling wells up within us.

 

Why is this so?

 

Perhaps it is because the essence of Japanese festivals—faith, transience, and the act of passing traditions from one generation to the next—deeply resonates with the Japanese soul.

 

Festivals Interwoven with Faith

Many Japanese festivals are not merely forms of entertainment or community events; they originated as Shinto rituals.
They are rooted in prayers for bountiful harvests, supplications for the end of epidemics, and expressions of gratitude to deities and ancestors.

 

The mikoshi is carried through the town because it is believed that the deity temporarily descends upon it, bringing blessings to the people.
The rhythmic beats of taiko drums and the powerful voices of festival chants are not just for excitement—they have long been believed to dispel evil spirits and purify the land.
Even fireworks, which now symbolize summer nights, once held meanings of requiem and purification.

 

In this way, Japanese festivals are more than lively gatherings; they are sacred moments where gods and people come together, embodying a culture where faith and daily life are seamlessly intertwined.

In contrast, many Western festivals, such as carnivals and festivals, primarily emphasize celebration and entertainment.
Although some have religious origins—such as Rio’s Carnival, which is tied to Christian traditions—many have evolved into grand spectacles of dance and music.
Events like Christmas markets and Halloween have also taken on strong commercial aspects over time.

Japanese festivals, however, have retained their core function as acts of prayer.

 

This stems from a unique Japanese spiritual perspective—one where gods are not distant, omnipotent beings in the heavens, but rather, exist within the very landscapes we live in.
They dwell in nature itself—in the mountains, rivers, wind, and fire—watching over human life.

Thus, festivals are not merely opportunities for amusement; they are sacred occasions where people reconnect with the divine and collectively express their gratitude.

For example, autumn festivals are held to give thanks for the year’s harvest, while spring festivals are prayers for an abundant growing season.
The Obon festival serves as a time to welcome and send off ancestral spirits.

Even amidst the bustling energy of a festival, a deep and solemn reverence for faith remains ever-present.

This is what makes Japanese festivals distinct from those of other countries.
And as time passes, this reverence transforms in form but never disappears.

The hands that carry the mikoshi today are imbued with the same devotion as those of centuries past.
The echoes of festival music intertwine with the prayers of those who came before us.

In this way, festivals link the past to the future, ensuring that these prayers and traditions continue to be passed down through generations.

 

“Because It Ends, It Is Beautiful”—The Japanese Aesthetic

As the festival night approaches, a quiet town gradually fills with energy.
The glow of lanterns flickers along shrine pathways, children in yukata dart through the streets, and laughter rings out among people of all ages.
Familiar scenery transforms into something extraordinary.

 

But as one watches, a realization dawns—this moment is fleeting.

 

Festivals appear like a mirage, gracing the world for just a few days each year.
When night falls and the lanterns are extinguished, the noise, the smiles, and the fervor all fade as if they were but a dream.
And then, life returns to its ordinary rhythm.

 

The Japanese have a unique sense of beauty known as mono no aware—a deep appreciation for the transient nature of things.

Cherry blossoms are breathtaking precisely because they are destined to fall.
The evening sky captivates us because it will soon be swallowed by the darkness of night.
Everything is impermanent, and it is this impermanence that enhances its brilliance.

 

Rather than seeking eternity, the Japanese find value in things that will inevitably vanish.

Festivals, too, embody this ephemeral beauty.
They come once a year, lasting only for a brief moment.
Yet, for that fleeting time, people pour their hearts into preparation, devote themselves to the experience, and live those moments to the fullest.

And when the festival ends, the townspeople return home, carrying a quiet sense of longing.
They murmur, “Until next year,” though there is no guarantee that the same festival will come again.

Perhaps that is why people entrust their hearts to each festival, engraving its radiance into their memories.

 

The Everlasting Light of Prayer and Tradition

Japanese festivals stir our emotions so deeply because they carry prayers, transience, and the passing down of traditions.

Since ancient times, festivals have been sacred moments of devotion, where people have offered gratitude to the gods, honored their ancestors, and sought protection from misfortune.
Even now, these prayers are imbued in the music, in the sweat of those carrying the mikoshi, and in the bursts of fireworks that illuminate the summer sky.

At the same time, festivals are ephemeral by nature.
They shine brilliantly for a few fleeting days before vanishing, leaving behind only echoes of their presence.
Yet, these echoes remain deeply engraved in the hearts of those who experience them, and in turn, they are passed on to future generations.

 

Just as fireworks are breathtaking precisely because they disappear in an instant,
festivals, too, become even more meaningful because they exist within the confines of time.

And that passion—those prayers—transcend generations.

 

Just as those before us once carried the mikoshi with reverence, we now continue the tradition.
We lift our voices in festival songs, we illuminate the streets with lanterns,
and, as our ancestors did before us, we pass on these sacred moments to those who will follow.