Blessed Are the People Who Embody Omotenashi.
It was just before the world went quiet and imprisoned indoors due to Covid. We took the twenty-minute drive to the ferry terminal at Ardrossan to catch the boat to the Island of Arran. On embarking, we took the bus to Lochranza, a quiet little village in the north of the island that hosts a centre for geological studies for those fascinated by the secrets rocks hold, amongst other things. The village, with a population of just over 200, was peaceful but with a castle, it revealed a more hostile past.
The Guardian Newspaper described it as one of Britain’s great walks. We knocked on a door to ask where the walk began. The man asked his wife to bring out drinks and snacks while he fetched a map and gave us directions. As a collector of untranslatables—I know, it’s a nerdy hobby—nothing pleases me more than words that demonstrate the better angels of our nature. The Japanese word omotenashi seemed perfect for the occasion. It is often translated simply as “hospitality,” but it means wholehearted, selfless service—anticipating a guest’s needs before they speak. It is grace without display. Care without announcement. We often meet this spirit in Scotland’s rural places.
As we crossed over the hill, disturbing the grazing sheep, we were met by a hissing adder that seemed to say, “You dare come near me?” I found it odd that it was lying on top of the stone footpath on such a hot summer day. Perhaps a bird of prey had dropped it. I used my walking pole to move it into the vegetation.
On reaching the top of the hill, we were welcomed by a still, mirror-like sea—the Firth of Clyde. We stood there taking in the view and decided to have our picnic, reasoning that this was the prettiest place to absorb the Creator’s handiwork.
As we embarked on the ten-mile walk to Sannox, we were met with many photo opportunities, including an old cottage from a bygone age. I began to ponder what life may have been like for its residents. A cottage by the sea sounds idyllic, but there were prices to pay for living a rural life in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.
I also found myself pondering what Jesus meant when He said, “The meek will inherit the earth.” He was quoting Psalm 37:10–11. In the BSB translation we read:
“Yet a little while, and the wicked will be no more;
though you look for them, they will not be found.
But the meek will inherit the land
and delight in abundant prosperity.”
What can be said about this promise? Is it speaking of a rejuvenation of the planet—a system restored back to the garden? It surely makes sense to say so. And if I may put in an offer for this majestic view over the Firth of Clyde, my offer is in.
We eventually reached our goal, but as the poet says about the best-laid plans of mice and men… we forgot to check the return bus times. This is a rural island, so buses do not arrive as frequently as those in the city. It seemed we would have to wait two hours or walk. Walking was not an option after completing more than ten miles already.
We stood there bewildered, but within a few minutes an “Out of Service” bus passed by. The driver took pity on us, stopped, and took us to the ferry.
The Guardian Newspaper described this walk as one of Britain's great walks. I would add that it was fulfilling for the scenery, the rejuvenation and the lovely people we meet on the journey.
And my thought for the day: blessed are the kind and hospitable. Blessed are the people who embody omotenashi.”