So much has the Japanese tea ceremony intrigued French and English intellectuals that George Orwell, Roland Barthes, Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone De Beauvoir, James Kirkup and Claude Levi Strauss have each tried to capture its essence. All of which is a source of great humor to most Orientals, most of whom feel that the deep symbolic meaning of the tea ceremony is lost on most Westerners. Chinese-American philosopher Lin Yu Tang, in a rare bow to the sophistication of Japanese culture, summed up this attitude when he wrote that "what most Westerners cannot fully appreciate is that while they, like the Chinese drink tea primarily to satisfy their thirst, the Japanese drink it to satisfy their souls". The reality, is that the complex Japanese tea ceremony known as "cha-no-yu" is far more deeoly related to in terms of symbols rather than mere substance.

Any Japanese who can afford it has a special room set aside for use as a "teahouse". In the most traditional homes, the teahouse will be a separate one room building located in the garden. Where this is not possible, the teahouse may be in a separate room in the house but this room will almost always have its own entrance, one that is separate from the main entrance to the house or apartment. Following the teachings of the famed tea master Rikyu, these tea-ceremony rooms are constructed according to precise specifications, one of the most important being that they will have asymetric proportions that are encouraged to give full range to the imagination of those participating in the tea ceremony.

One comes to a friend's teahouse not to enjoy warming cups of "o cha" (honorable tea) and conversation as much to engage in acomplex ritual. In the most traditional homes the ritual begins with the invitation of the guests, usually four, after which each will either come by or telephone to express his "zenrei" or polite thanks. On the following day, guests arrive, wearing properly muted kimonos and carrying personal tea cloths and fans. After gathering in either a special waiting room or in the hall of the host's home, the group walks to the teahouse, preceded by the host or his gardener who caries a bronze sword-like instrument that he waves about as if to lop off any branches that might obstruct his guests or snag their garments, thus symbolizing the host's desire to give his guests every possible comfort. Before entering the tea house, everyone stops for a ceremonious washing of the face and hands and to remove their sandals.

Then, following the instructions in Okakura-Kakuzo's classic 18th century "Book of Tea", "each guest will silently approach the sanctuary, and, if a samurai, will leave his sword on the rack beneath the eaves, the tearoom being preeminently a place of peace. Each guest will then bend low and enter the room through a small door ... this being incumbent on all guests, high and low alike, and is intended to inculcate humility. The order of precedence having been mutually agreed upon, the guests one by one will enter noiselessly and take their seats, first making obeisance to the picture or flower arrangement on the tokonoma, a niche especially designed for their display. The host will not enter the room until all of the guests have seated themselves and quiet reigns with nothing to break the silence save the note of the boiling water in the iron kettle..."

The rest of the ceremony goes on in similar ritual fashion, a sequence of precise movements being prescribed for the elevation of the cup to one's lips, as well as the practice, if a communal bowl is used, of passing it around the table when emptied to be admired by the guests as a work of art. After each guest has made sucking sounds to signify his pleasure at his last sip, and the host his profound obeisance, the company departs through the same door by which they had entered.

© Daniel Rogov