In 1984 I built some bookcases for Mrs. (Fumiko) Snelling, the first person to practice Nichiren Buddhism in the Washington, DC area. It was part of some other remodeling work that I was doing. Mrs. Snelling was kind of like a second mom to me, I often received guidance from her. After building the bookcases, I guess she thought that I had some talent in building things out of wood so she said to me, “ We need someone in the Washington area to make Butsudans, and you are it” I did not know that larger, tokubetsu Gohonzons were to be given out to senior members, and that many of them had smaller butsudans that would not hold the larger Gohonzon. Soon I had many people calling me up saying that Mrs. Snelling had told them to come to me. This was the start of my career in making Butsudans, and as things would turn out, my career in furniture design.

I had to hit the ground running. I possessed only limited woodworking skills, knowledge, and tools, but I got books from the public library, and I managed to get a Sears credit card so that I could buy some basic tools and machines. I slid along by the seat of my pants, learning new techniques as each project called for them. It was my great good fortune that one of the books that I got out of the library was “The Impractical Cabinetmaker” by James Krenov and also his book “The fine art of Cabinetmaking”. These books not only taught me the “how” of woodworking but also the “why”. He advocated the idea that one could practice a craft that accessed deeper parts of the human psyche, and that the result would be objects that held meaning in them, not just function. It took me a long time to learn the skills that would enable me to be able to express myself through my work, but it slowly came about.

Some of the guidances that Mrs. Snelling gave me about making Butsudans are:

Never build a Butsudan for someone and be paid at a later date. That person’s Gohonzon would be in a Butsudan that I essentially owned, and therefore I would be taking responsibility fo their Gohonzon. They need to take responsibility for their own Gohonzon, and therefore their own life.
The person who builds Butsudans must be actively practicing Buddhism. When possible chant daimoku so that it flows from my hands into the wood.
Surfaces for offerings should be in front of the Gohonzon, not to the side. Offerings should be able to be “seen” by the Gohonzon, they are not just decoration for us to see.
The steps or levels leading up to the Gohonzon should be an odd number, preferably 3 or 5. This is based on an asian tradition that odd numbers are positive energy. All pagodas follow this rule.
The part immediately surrounding the Gohonzon is called an ozushi. It can be a simple frame, or it can have doors. The Butsudan is the outer cabinet that houses the ozushi. All of my Butsudans at least have that ozushi frame in them. Very small beginner butsudans are technically just ozushi, but the common usage in english has become Butsudan for all Japanese Buddhist altars.
One should always look up at the Gohonzon, never down. In general, I try to make the bottom wooden dowel of the Gohonzon be positioned at about eye level for someone sitting in a chair. This allows some variation in the size of human beings without straining the neck looking too high up.
Here are a few other bits of nomenclature for those who are interested: The cabinet or table that the Butsudan sits on is called the kyodai, kyo meaning teaching and dai meaning big, or base. If there is an additional altar table in front of the kyodai, it is called the kyozukue, kyo meaning teaching, and zukue meaning writing. The kyozukue is a traditional writing table in Japan, and it is used to hold candles, incense, and other offerings when part of an altar. A Butsudan maker is called me-i-daiko. I was told this means “temple builder”