Divine retribution

I like the expression "you'll get divine retribution" (bachi ga ataru).

I rarely say it out loud, but I keep it in mind a lot.
For example, when I feel like criticizing something, I often think: if I say this, I'll get divine retribution — better not. Unless someone is clearly being unreasonable or logically contradictory, I basically don't comment on other people's words or behavior. Or rather, doing that makes me feel awful, and sometimes it even makes me physically unwell.

Still, even though I keep that phrase in mind, I'm not well-versed in Shinto ritual.
People often say the Japanese are non-religious (though some argue that isn't strictly true), and I don't particularly think of myself in religious terms either.

Even so, I do think human ethics are tied, at least to some degree, to something religious.

Beyond "divine retribution," there are plenty of so-called religious (non-scientific) phrases like "good-luck rituals" and "your luck turns."
And living this far, I do feel that somehow — transcendent forces, or powers that neither words nor science can fully explain — really do exist.
Digging too deep into that would turn into a discussion with no bottom, so I'll stop here for now.

Even among business leaders, more people than you'd expect face a kamidana every day, visit a shrine at decisive moments, or care about feng shui and fortune-telling. Of course they know business isn't spiritual — it's grounded, cutthroat, meritocratic.
But many executives still think that, at the very end, you have to lean on something beyond what you can decide yourself — luck of the moment, a transcendent force.

In Japanese business especially, there's the idea of sanpo-yoshi — "good for three sides": seller, buyer, and society. Business works when it contributes to all three. That isn't only a game-theoretic, defensive calculation that you build relationships because betrayal would hurt you — often people pursue it actively, from their own ethics.
Japan is said to have by far the most companies over 100 years old in the world. Geography and less exposure to competition may play a role, but I think sanpo-yoshi is closely related.

A bit of a digression: critics who never build anything themselves periodically pop up shouting "Why doesn't Japan produce a GAFA?!" — but you rarely see the discussion "Why do so few countries outside Japan have companies that last over 100 years?" GAFA is only four companies even worldwide. They're exceptional not only in Japan but in the U.S. (And yes, the point is usually about unicorns and similar firms too, not literally those four — still outliers.) That debate usually lands on the San Francisco ecosystem; the 100-year company story can be framed the same way.
With a shrinking population, century-old firms will keep dwindling (or be inherited through M&A), but I hope businesses that practice sanpo-yoshi keep surviving.

Finally: I started thinking about religion and ethics because of a novel I read as a student. Until then, religion had felt vaguely cult-like to me. The book was Ayako Miura's Shiokari Pass. Miura was a Christian and wrote several novels on that theme. (I'd also recommend Hyoten / Freezing Point.)
Shiokari Pass is about a boy who, through many twists in an era when Christianity was still discriminated against, becomes a Christian. I'll leave the plot to the book itself — but when I read it, I felt: if there were rules that defined human ethics, and every human followed them, conflict would disappear. (Which is exactly what religion is, in a sense.)
Since then I've thought of religion as something precious. That said, I don't do much shrine-visiting or other religious practice myself, so I can't talk too high and mighty about it.

It's a small thing, but I want to keep divine retribution in mind.