I don't think anything can prepare you for Hiroshima's Atomic Dome memorial and Peace Park.
I was already in deep reflection about Rev Bonnie's June 1 podcast for the common good, where Bonnie frankly spoke truth about a probable nuclear war. So the timing of today could not be better to face and come to terms. I believe Bonnie when she says honesty, facing fear, and grief is a path to personal mourning and release. Jesus teaches to "fear not". I'm not there yet...
However, an extraordinary moment occurred that I will never forget as I looked into the maw of the Atomic Dome, where massacre of innocent civilians took place...
My 17 year old nephew Pierce pointed behind me and said "Look!" In the dark muddy river bank below stood serenely a large 3 foot egret, with a long sinewy neck peering into the water. It was the largest I have ever seen. I watched and captured it's beauty with my camera.
What a gift of grace that in my personal confrontation with the result of cold human disconnectedness that drops atomic bombs, life arises and thrives.
Images, feelings, story and art may heal me. Words alone will not. As we continued, I reluctantly went to the nearby museum. A series of videos of suvivors starkly revealed how differently the masculine and feminine in Japanese society experienced the horror. Short 2-3 minute clips of about five men recounted their experience of the bombing. They all told a mechanical time accounting of what they were doing, the effect on the buildings, and helping immediate coworkers nearby. Then a series of women told their stories. One lady decribed that all Hiroshima turned black, brown, and red... The colors of hell. They all recounted how their families and loved ones died. One survivor described the rain that fell after the bomb, thirsty people opening their mouth to find black sooty water that stained their clothes. The women spoke so directly about the tragedy.
Walking through the museum, I noticed the endless decriptions written on walls, on computer screens, on the floor. Words, words, words. Understanding does not heal. Stories, tears, images feels so much closer to meet the mystery of loss and suffering.
Pierce really engaged silently with everything, I was surprised by his curiosity. It is hard to get him to talk, but he certainly showed interest.
I think my familiar friend of avoidance helped me get through the morning and meet a tight travel schedule. It was a tough but rewarding time.
More pictures:
https://photos.app.goo.gl/Be5YeK7RnegnkAr13
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