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Published in The Seattle Times online on Oct. 15, 2026
and in Pacific NW Magazine of the printed Times on Oct. 18, 2026
Spiritual Journey:
Seattle Buddhist Church marks 125 years of change as Japanese community hub
By Jean Sherrard
In the morning, rosy cheeks. By evening, white ashes.
In Buddhist teaching, nothing lasts forever — it’s not tragic, simply how things are.
Seattle Buddhist Church, marking its 125th year, has weathered that lesson repeatedly. Also known as Seattle Buddhist Temple and Seattle Betsuin Buddhist Temple, the church began in a Blaine cannery bunkhouse in 1900. Shodo Hatano, an ordained priest on a mission from Japan, spent the salmon season there alongside 50 countrymen. One night he asked his roommate, Tatsujiro Akiyoshi, about starting a Buddhist church in the Northwest.
That winter, following the cannery workers south, the two gathered signatures on Seattle’s Skid Road, joined by seven others — nine founders total, most in their early 20s.
On Nov. 15, 1901, they held their inaugural service. It was the start of likely the first Buddhist temple of any sect north of San Francisco.
Seven years to the day after that first gathering, on Nov. 15, 1908, they dedicated a temple at 1020 Main St., soon to be, for many, the center of Northwest Japanese life.

In the late 1930s, the growing congregation laid plans for a larger temple at 1427 S. Main St., designed by young Japanese American architect Kichio Arai. It was dedicated Oct. 5, 1941.
Two months later, Japan bombed Pearl Harbor. By spring 1942, Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066 had emptied the temple, its congregation sent first to the Puyallup fairgrounds, then incarcerated at the Minidoka concentration camp in the Idaho desert. Families sold their businesses and homes, often for pennies on the dollar, and took with them only what they could carry.
Returning after the war, congregants patched walls, repainted

ceilings and scrubbed the ransacked main hall, or hondo. Eighty years ago this summer, on Aug. 4, 1946, the doors reopened.
“It was like getting off the boat all over again,” says Alan Hoshino, a third-generation member whose entire family was incarcerated at Minidoka. “They started over with absolutely nothing.”
On New Year’s Eve 2023, a man seeking shelter set a fire in the basement where the temple’s physical archives were stored. Smoke and water damaged what flame did not. Boxes of records, many of

them documenting the incarceration years, were lost. Volunteers hauled out what survived while the building still smoldered.
Susan Moriguchi, whose late husband, Toshi, was born at Minidoka in 1944, understands the long shadow of displacement. Buddhism, she says, offers a way through: “After every great storm, there’s always a calm, a sense of renewal that’s ongoing.”
Today’s Seattle Betsuin — a 1954 appellation recognizing it as a major branch temple — rises from white ashes into rosy morning, reflecting a world its founders could only have imagined. Members and guests will gather Nov. 18 and 19 to mark 125 years.
WEB EXTRAS
To watch our narrated 360 degree video of this column, click on through.
Beautiful and heartbreaking story, well told. Thank you.