5.19.2008

Everland Theme Park



Saturday our staff was treated to a special day by our school. Thanks KNU for a wonderful day! We visited the ever popular "Everland" theme park. It is like a 6 Flags or Worlds of Fun. Sadly, I've officially grown out of roller coasters. I enjoyed the water ride and the ferris wheel but you can keep the major rides. I had a blast just hanging out with friends and watching people.



Part of the fun of Everland for we was seeing so many Korean families having fun together. Korean people work so hard and it is great to see friends and families being kid like together. There were even large groups of granddma and grandpas!



The parade was fun and unlike any theme park parade I've seen. Parades are usually so commercial. Yet I didn't recognize any of the characters. Other than my lack of familiarity with the characters it was like any other parade--loud music, extremely happy people, over the top costumes and walking animals.



(click on blog title for more pictures)

5.10.2008

30k to a Different World


I have 5 weeks of teaching at KNU. There are only so many weekends left before I leave Korea to travel this summer. For those who don't know I'm in my last semester at KNU. This summer I'm planning a trip in S. East Asia and will leave Korea in August.

Today two of my Korean friends, Mrs. Do and Hyun Suk, and I spent the day touring a region only 30k away from me. It felt like a different country! The province next to ours, Chungcheonbuk-do, has far less people and due to a lack of industry it has a ton more green. Today I felt like I was looking back into time at a non-developed Korea. The comparison between new Korea and "old" Korea is shocking.

In Cheonan City I live in the land of high rises. I forget what a skyline looks like without apartments. One can get "cabin fever" even in the outdoors in the urban areas of Korea. So today when we traveled in to a lush, hilly, small town Korea my heart was full of joy.




We visited a Buddhist temple which was gearing up for Buddha's birthday Monday. There were teenagers on a Buddhist retreat weekend. Ha. They all had cucumbers sticking out of their peach colored monk outfits. I was informed that this was food for their hike. Ha. Can you imagine sending high school students out on a hike with Buddhist monks and a cucumber?


The gardens around the temple site were full of color and full of sweet fragrances. There were rows of hanging brightly colored lanterns. I hear you can buy a "prayer lantern" for around 60 USD. Mrs. Do and Hyun Suk treated me to one of their favorite snacks. It was a green rice cake. It was comfort food for them. They reveled in being able to find it freshly made. I would have shared their excitement if there was a woman selling funnel cake next to the green rice cake! I can't say that I loved the green rice. It tasted just fine. I've come to enjoy the consistency of Korean rice cake. I loved eating it with my friends and I loved watching them enjoy it even more. We ate this snack under one of the biggest trees I've ever seen. It must have been close to 10 feet wide with branches as big as regular trees. It provided a massive shade for friends like us to sit and rest under. With the temple, the flowers, the mountains, the tree and the friends I was full of joy.





We visited the memorial of Yu Gwan Sun. She had a significant role during the Korean Independent Movement of 1919-20. Her story really touched me today. She was only 18 when she died in prison by the hands of her Japanese torturers. I have no idea what it would be like to stand up and fight for "rights" I consider automatic givens. The more I learn about the histories of most countries the more I realize that rights I've always had--free speech, freedom of religion, etc, are not "givens" at all. Living in developed Korea makes it so easy to forget where this people was only a short time ago. What would it be like to be on the other side of colonialism? What would it be like to lose your country, land, culture and livelihood to another people group? Koreans still have a collective memory of this. As much good as colonialism did for impoverished countries, its destructive capabilities were even more destructive. Japan was the colonial power in Korea and the reason why Gwan Sun was martyred for her fight to free her country.

I often feel frustrated with Korean culture--especially their extreme mono-cultural mindset and the extreme competitive spirit which enter into all areas of life. Yet when I'm reminded of their history I gain more perspective and a whole lot more respect for their strength and fight.




I have learned about and met some pretty courageous people over the last few years. I marvel at the courage of human beings in some of the most dire situations--Auschwitz, Rwanda, S. Korea, Philippines, Hiroshima, etc. When faced with the deepest hells on earth people rise up to offer hope and joy. Somewhere deep in the reality of being human is this desire to see beyond circumstance to a higher reality. This for me is a sign that the power of God to redeem and restore is as real as it is great. I can only begin to understand how courage forms in even the youngest of people and enables them to give their lives for something greater than themselves. When everything is taken from you--or is being taken away--fear takes a back seat. When everything is being lost you really do have everything to gain.

It was wonderful to be surrounded by a beautiful place and beautiful people. I had so much gratitude. I can not believe I was only 30k away from home today! What a different world!!!

5.04.2008

Finding Faith: A Story From The Bleeding Woman

Sermon Preached at Korea Nazarene International English Church on May 5, 2008.
Matthew 9: 18-26
Preached in the 1st Person


I want to share my story with you today. Maybe some of you already know about it. You can read my story in Matthew, Mark or Luke’s gospel. Today you heard my story from Matthew 9: 18-26. Often people refer to me as the “Bleeding woman”. While I am her, the one the gospels refer to, I am no longer a "bleeding woman".

I remember that night like it was last night. There is no single night of my life more transforming than that one. Since that day I’ve not had any problems with my periods. I hope that you'll excuse my bluntness. My body is now on a regular cycle. Praise be to God. That night, the night I encountered Jesus Christ and was healed by him, was the first night of the rest of my life.

Up until that night I was a mess. 12 years of rejection and separation from any sense of community. My problem was detestable to everyone. When I’m really honest with myself, my problem was also detestable to me. I was dirty all the time. There was no freedom from it—blood…all the time. The smell kept people away from me. The smell kept me away from me—there was so much shame. I got used to living this way…well as much as any woman can get used to it. I never got used to the constant scrubbing and washing… scrubbing and washing. I’d work so hard to have clean clothes. I’d spend hours getting the stains out. I did it all alone. No one wanted to be near me. I’d try to hide so the community didn’t have to see me or deal with me. I’d scrub so hard that my knuckles became raw, waterlogged and weary. No one saw my pain. No one knew my struggle. They couldn’t because the law was in their way. We all knew what the law instructed us to do with people like me. If you look back at the Torah-Lev. 15: 25ff—it gives specific instructions. (Read in part)

“If a woman has a discharge of blood for many days, not at the time of her impurity, or if she has a discharge beyond the time of her impurity, for all the days of the discharge she shall continue in uncleanness; as in the days of her impurity, she shall be unclean.”

I remember just wanting to be touched. A pat on the back… A hand on my shoulder… A hug… For 12 years there was nothing. Young children—newborns can die without touch. I can assure you I was a dead woman. I may have had a heartbeat but inside I was dead.

To the community I was dead. I could see it in their eyes. Sometimes it was sadness or pity. Sometimes it was fear. Other times it was scorn. Like I had anything to do with my problem. Did I deserve this? Did they deserve me? The community was afraid for their own wellbeing. As I’d wash my clothes I’d think to myself…if only they could see beyond the bleeding. If they could only see beyond the rules and separate me from them.... What could my life be like if they were not afraid? What would life be like if they were free to touch, free to know me? What if they were even free to know themselves through me? Life doesn’t have to be this way—for me or for them.

The only thing I saw that was separating us was our Torah. People had such strong faith in this law. I understand why they did. The law was given to us to create a special called out community. It was there to help preserve our relationship with God. It was there to help me know how to be a part of the community too!

But I always had so many questions about the way we followed the law. Something seemed to be missing. We believed these rules had the ability to preserve us as God’s people. Yet people fought over how we should keep them. People worked so hard to remember the laws of our faith. But hadn’t we forgotten something? What about the suffering? Did God want us to forget about the suffering? What about the unclean people like myself? Did God want us to forget, hate or disregard people deemed unclean? What about the sinners? Did God want them to be outcasts and dehumanized as sinners? When did our faith in the law begin to separate us from sinners, from the unclean and from the suffering?

Sometimes I wanted to scream out, “I am a human being”. “The only difference between us is my blood.” God made this law to care for his people—the rich and the poor, the sick and the healthy, the educated and the uneducated. God made the law to bring us together as a people who love each other like God so loved us. I wanted to be apart of their community.

I longed to be healthy. I had spent everything on doctors. It was all gone. There had been so many doctors’ visits. There had been so many temple visits. Nothing worked. In fact my problems only worsened. I had become a shell of a person. After bleeding for 12 years a body doesn’t function right. I was anemic. I had become so weary and frail.

I remember hearing rumblings in the street about this Jesus. We had others who had come into town to work miracles. God knows I had tried to find healing in them. There were other prophets who had come with “good news” to share with us. But the way people talked about this man Jesus made me interested. I heard this Jesus was a rabbi. He was a teacher of the law. He wasn’t a law keeper in the way of the other rabbi’s. He seemed to genuinely care about people. He even seemed to love people. He spoke truth to people and sometimes his truth made them angry.

However, this rabbi Jesus, a teacher of the Torah was going around breaking the law! He was healing people on the Sabbath. He was touching the sick. He was even eating with sinners!!! He spent time with the rich and the poor. There was something about the heart of Jesus that reminded me of what I wanted to believe about the heart of God. Jesus was a different kind of rabbi. I thought to myself, “This man who heals the blind, who makes the lame walk, who casts out demons…if he does all that…surely if he is willing he can heal my illness. If only he could see me. If only he could see my pain. If only he could know what I’ve been through. If only he could have compassion on me. Then I would be made well.”

And then…. there he was. It was as if God heard my heart’s cry. Have you ever cried out to God and known that he heard you? That night I knew God had heard me! I had faith that Yahweh—the God of the torah had heard me. I knew I had a decision to make. I’d either “keep my faith” and do what the torah ordered—stay away from people so as not to make them unclean and shame myself. Or I’d believe that Yahweh had heard me. I’d believe God was leading me to this Jesus today!

That day had been especially difficult for me. I had just finished washing my clothes. I was exhausted. I had nothing left in me. I barely had enough energy to walk home. It was around the dinner hour. The sun was just starting to set. I noticed there was a crowd gathering. People were running past me shouting to one another, “It’s Jesus”. “Let’s go see Jesus.” That is when I noticed the crowd was moving in my direction. It got closer and through a tiny opening I saw him---that was Jesus. The opening in the crowd closed quickly so I couldn’t see him anymore but I knew he was there.

There was this tiny glimmer of hope in me. I have no idea where it came from but I felt this energy in me, definitely the last bit of energy I had. It entered into my legs and arms. It touched a deep place in my heart. It was almost as if Yahweh was whispering life into me, “I hear you”.

I began to walk towards the oncoming crowd. People sneered at me and leaped away so as not to touch me. The closer I got to Jesus the more people crowded near Jesus. I could not help but touch everyone around me. I knew I was breaking the law. I knew people were going to be angry with me for making them unclean. I knew they’d want to accuse me of losing my faith! But in the middle of that crowd was Jesus. Jesus! Nothing in my last 12 years had cured my disease. My life had reached a dead end. And maybe that is why that voice in my heart spoke louder—“I hear you”.

With everything left in me I pushed my way through the crowd. I remember thinking, “What will Jesus think of me?” Yet that voice was still there--“Yahweh hears you.” So I decided--“If I can only touch a piece of his cloak, then I will be healed.”

And then I did it. I touched him. I was so afraid. I only managed to touch a tiny piece of his clothing. But it was all I needed. Jesus turned around. I can’t believe he noticed. How did he notice so quickly? I didn’t even touch him… I touched the end of his cloak.

He looked me straight in the eyes. His eyes said it all. There was no sound. The crowd was quiet. The disciples were quiet too. Jesus without saying a word peered deep into my heart with his eyes and said, “I hear you.” In that moment he looked into my heart and saw my pain. He knew my suffering. He knew my disappointments. He knew I had been living dead. He knew all about me. Then he said something that changed my life forever. He said, “Take heart daughter, your faith has made you well.”

It was that voice—I knew it—the voice of Yahweh. That voice that had drawn me to Jesus. That voice that had encouraged me to know I wasn’t alone. Jesus had the voice of Yahweh! Jesus heard me!

He called me Daughter! Jesus the rabbi called me daughter. He could of called me “woman” or “girl” but he called me “daughter”. He gave me my place back into the community! I was no longer unclean. I was a part of the family. I belonged. Do you know what if feels like to belong? Everyone wants to belong but for so long I hadn’t. Now I belonged. I had forgotten what it was like but in that moment when Jesus looked into my heart and called me daughter I felt whole.

“Take heart daughter, your faith has made you well.” I thought I had lost my faith—lost my faith in the law and lost my faith in the Jewish community. This faith, whatever was left of it, like the body I lived in was so anemic. In the face of Jesus I realized what real faith was. Real faith was faith in something much greater than the law. It was faith in what the law pointed to—Yahweh! It was faith in the heart of God for his people. It was faith in the God who whispers life into all of us—“I hear you”. I knew that the people were right about this Jesus. He wasn’t like the other rabbi’s. His heart was God’s heart. My faith was in him. I had found real faith and this faith made me well!! Life would never be the same again.

In the days after people would come up to me and be amazed by what Jesus had done for me. People were amazed also at my faith. I was never surprised by their amazement at what Jesus had done. Yet I was surprised by how they put me on a pedestal for my faith. What people don't often remember is that for 12 years I had tried every last thing. I had put my faith and hope in doctors. I had put my faith in the law. I had put my faith in the Jewish community. Nothing healed me. Nothing brought me back into the community. My faith was nothing spectacular because on that night Jesus healed me I had nothing left but my faith in God. Every other hope had been dashed. God was all I had left. 12 years had stripped me down to nothing but my faith in God. And that faith was as tiny as a mustard seed. And it was enough.

Sometime after that night a few of my friends told me more of what Jesus was doing that night. Jesus had been eating at Matthew’s house. Jairus, the synagogue leader who apparently had just lost his daughter rushed into the house and knelt down at Jesus’ feet. People who were there said it was like watching a man kneeling before a king. They described Jairus as being pale like a dead man. I’m not surprised. If I had just lost my daughter, I’d feel like I had just died too! I am pretty sure Jairus was as desperate that night as I was. He took a huge risk to interrupt Jesus’ dinner at Matthew’s home. But hurting parents take huge risks in order to save their children. It doesn’t matter if you are a synagogue ruler or a poor beggar on the street. Jairus interrupted the whole dinner and Jesus didn’t hesitate to listen to him. Jesus got up from the table and followed Jairus. Can you imagine? Here Jesus was in the middle of teaching a very important lesson, he was interrupted, and he left with Jairus! And then on the way to Jairus’ home I came along. I interrupted Jesus’ interruption. It was a night of interruptions.

Yet looking back none of it seemed like an interruption to Jesus. Jesus seemed to know exactly what he was doing. As wonderful as my healing was for me and as much as it changed my life I have come to realize that Jesus was using my healing to teach the public about who he was. He was using my healing to bring Jairus into a new kind of faith. Jairus the teacher of the law watched as Jesus healed me-- an unclean woman. Jesus wasn’t angry by my touch but loved me. Jesus was showing Jairus that he was the one in whom all faith lived. Jesus showed Jairus that he calls sons and daughters back to life. I’m humbled that Jesus would not only give me new life but use my life to give others new life too. When Jairus got back to his home that night all the people laughed at Jesus. After what Jairus had seen in me—a daughter raised from the dead—I am sure he had great faith and hope in what Jesus was about to do.

The more I reflect on my healing the more that I celebrate Yahweh, Emmanuel, and Jesus Christ. Jesus raised me from “the dead”. He raised Jairus’ daughter from the dead. He also raised Jairus from the dead! He welcomed two daughters back to life. He gave me belonging! He returned Jairus’ daughter to him. He transformed my life and even though he said “my faith” made me well his actions that day helped my faith to grow.

I never want to forget that night. I want everyone to know what Jesus did. Jesus helped me find a real faith. Through Jesus I know that I know that God hears me! God hears us!!

For some time I’ve been carrying this piece of cloth around with me. Just because I got my life back it doesn’t mean that life is now problem free. There are days when I still feel down. I still have stress. I have days when I feel alone. There are days when I have no idea how I’ll finish everything I need to. There are days when I’m uncomfortable about not knowing what my future holds. There are days when people still say hurtful things to me. But regardless of all of it I have faith. I’ve decided to put my trust in Jesus above everything else. To remind me of my decision to trust Jesus I carry this cloth with me wherever I go. When I feel down, stressed or alone I take this symbol—this cloth out and hold it for a while in my hand. This cloth reminds me of those 12 years of washing clothes. This cloth reminds me of that tiny piece of Jesus’ clothing I touched. This cloth reminds me to put my faith in Jesus. It reminds me that he hears me. It reminds me that he loves me. It reminds me that I belong to him. I’m his daughter. Nothing else matters as much when I remember I’m his.

As I leave today I want to give you a gift. I hope it will help you find your faith in Jesus. I want you to take a piece of cloth. Put it someplace where it can remind you of your faith in Jesus. When you feel like you have nothing left, I invite you to reach out and touch this cloth. When you feel like you are separated from the community, reach for it. When you struggle with your faith in rules and the community, reach out for Jesus. If only you can touch his cloak, then you too can be made well. Take heart sons and daughters of God, your faith has made you well.

3.30.2008

A Little Fun

We have new signage at church. On Sunday people were taking their pictures next to the signs and I got in one of them. Thanks Pat!

3.27.2008

Easter Vigil 2008: Listening with Symbol and Posture








There I was again the only blonde blue eyed foreigner in a sea of Korean Benedictine sisters who were dawning their white habits for the first time since Lent’s beginnings. It was Easter vigil and my first ever. I had a heart full of joy because this was the greatest event of the year for the sisters and I was getting to be a part of it. I thought to myself, “Here I am sharing Easter with some dear people I’ve come to call friends.”

Sister Anna Marie tugged at my hand and motioned that I follow her to what for me felt like a privileged place among the sisters. Many of the other guests were further down the pathway closer to the entrance of the sanctuary and they stood in a bunch. Yet Sr. Anna Marie seemed determined for me to join her and the other sisters to watch the proceedings. She found a place where we could see well together. I stood with her humbled by the ways she shows that our relationship is moving towards friendship and often she does it without language. I cherish that she would call me friend. That “title” isn’t given lightly here.

There was a fire ring on the ground and a table with a massive candle on it. The candle had to be at least 3 feet in length! For the 10 minutes before the start all of us stood in complete silence waiting. Silence. Darkness. Those were appropriate symbols for Holy Saturday. Those moments of silence, darkness and anticipation among friends were sweet. At exactly 10 p.m. the silence broke and we watched the commissioning of the new Christ candle. We shared the fire of the Christ candle as one by one the small candles we held received light. Just as the silence had been broken by the first words of the priest’s welcoming so too the darkness of the night broke as we held our brightly lit candles. The priest started the procession down the path, between all the people and into the sanctuary. We all followed in behind to begin the mass.

After we made the procession into the sanctuary the service lasted 2 and half hours—so well past midnight. We were lucky. Not long ago this Easter vigil lasted the whole night unto dawn. There was a lot of standing, sitting and singing. There were at least 7 passages of scripture read. There were prayers recited. There were movements by the priest to prepare for this special mass’s rituals. There was even a short homily where the priest had the sisters banging on their chairs, making funny shapes with their hands and yelling out hallelujah. The priest broke all sense of “reverence” and thankfully revealed the humanity in it all. There was joy! In this special mass we welcomed the risen Lord like so many people welcome the coming of a new year. It was a different kind of party but the joyful anticipation was definitely like that of New Years Eve.

The evening began with moments where I had to pinch myself to make sure I was really “where I was”. “I’m in South Korea, with Benedictine sisters celebrating the dawning of the resurrection.” I wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else. Yet, as the mass went on, and on and ON some of spectacular waned in my mind with intervals of fatigue. The fatigue was a mix of timing and concentration. It was mid-night so of course I was tired. The whole mass was acted out in Korean. It could have been Chinese or Arabic; I would have understood nearly the same amount—almost nothing. I was concentrating on each word half hoping God would have mercy and bestow on me the gift of tongues—at least the Korean tongue. Sitting through any Korean mass is a lesson in patience but this extended version proved to be a series of lessons.

Eventually I realized there would be no miraculous event tonight. I wasn’t going to suddenly understand Korean with the touch of the Holy Spirit. I found myself tuning out the spoken language all together. I had this sense that I was missing something by straining to “understand”. Why would I even try to understand the singing, the reading, and the preaching? It would be altogether different in English. I was working too hard and at what gain? Then something profound happened.

As soon as I turned off the “cognitive” switch of my brain and stopped straining to understand with my mind, I heard something else. There it was, the “emotive”.  Despite not understanding the spoken language of the mass my heart got involved and understand more of what was happening than I realized it could. I asked myself, “How is it that I can engage without spoken language?”

Just then a sister walked up behind the towering Christ candle to take up fire so she could light six white candles on the alter. A new movement of the mass was on its way. Other sisters came down the isles of the sanctuary to light a few of our candles. Again we passed on the light to all who held candles. As everyone held a burning candle, the priest did some things I didn’t understand. He proceeded to wash his hands in these clay pots alongside the wall. What was happening? I had no idea. After drying off his hands a sister helped him pour some of the water in those clay jars into an small ornamented jar. He dipped a metal wand into the jar and he approached the people. The whole room without being told tilted their heads and shoulders forward in reverence and received the drops of water flung onto them. Then with even a tear coming to my eye I realized there was storytelling happening through symbol and movement. No one had to speak a word because during those moments it spoke to me loud and clear.

On this dawning of Easter we held the symbol of the light of Christ in our hands and with a few flung drops of water we took on a humble posture to remember our own dying and rising—our Baptism. My heart engaged this service—a service spoken in Korean--because of the symbolism and postures. Such things spoke to the language of my heart. I found my heart leading me to a space of contemplation. The story told led me to review my own journey of conversion. Isn’t that what Easter is all about!

The symbols of the night—the cross, the new Christ candle, the clay pots holding the baptismal water, the wand for sprinkling, the bread and wine, the fresh flowers, and the white habits all spoke to the meaning of the Easter mass. The movements of the people—the procession into the sanctuary, the bowing at times of great reverence, the crossing of “Father, Son and Holy Sprit” across the chest, the flinging and receiving of baptismal water and the kneeling in preparation for Eucharist all spoke to the story of death and resurrection. The story provoked in me a remembering of my own story. I couldn’t help but think of all the times I’ve sat through services in my own language and failed to engage with the story as much as this night. It is easy to take the symbolism and movements for granted when there is English.

Easter Vigil this year resurrected the power of symbol and posture for me in the telling of the Christian story. It began with a sister who invited me with a posture of friendship to follow her and stand with her in a privileged place. It continued with a turning off the sound of the spoken word. That “turning off” lead to an opening of mystery—connecting to the story by emotive and imaginative means. There is a reason the church has referred to the crux of the Christian story and the story we tell at Easter as the “paschal mystery”. If I wasn’t convinced before, I am now convinced that symbols and postures used in the telling of the Christian story can engage us in the paschal mystery in ways our words have not.

3.20.2008

Korean Atomic Bomb Memorial


The Peace Memorial Park is a beautiful place. There is a river, walking paths, trees and memorial monuments.  The monument to Korean victims of the atomic bomb was an important one for me.  Koreans and Chinese were forced laborers in Hiroshima.  It is estimated that 20,000 Koreans died in Hiroshima.  (2000 is the estimate for Nagasaki) 

While I photographed the memorial a Japanese woman who spoke English came and talked to me.  I was so glad she wasn't just another Jehovah's Witness evangelist.  There were plenty of those too in the park.  One stopped to talk about peace and war.  This particular woman was at the park following a friend who was doing a peace presentation.  (Afterall...she could have been a JW!) She proceeded to take my photo.  She shared with me a bit of history I never could have known.  I told her that I had come from Korea and was taking the photo's for my students.  She said that this monument used to be outside of the memorial park--off the beaten path.  Koreans and others worked with the city to get the monument within the peace park grounds....like the rest of the memorials.  I can not validate this story against anything.  If it is true, it doesn't surprise me.  Great tensions exist still between the two people.  It would just add to the tensions to have the memorial in any other place besides the park. 

 "Pwang Hwa Dong Il" are the words on the pink paper.  It is the saying Koreans use to talk about uniting Korea.  "Peace" and "Unity" are the two words.  

In Korea the turtle is a symbol for long life.   So the Korean Memorial to atomic bomb victims is a turtle. When you are a people who have fought all the surrounding countries to keep your "life" you need a symbol for long life! I guess if the USA can have a bald eagle (symbolizing fierce independence?) than the Koreans can have a tortoise.  

Sadako Sasaki and Children's Peace Memorial




Sadako Sasaki was 2 years old when the bomb fell in Hiroshima. She survived and for 8 years went on to live quiet the normal childhood.  In 1955 she developed a terminal case of leukemia.  While she was in the hospital she began making paper cranes.  "Origami"!  In Japan (and Korea too) there is a myth about folding 1000 (in Korea 100) paper cranes.  The gods will grant a wish for 1000 of them.  Sadako didn't receive the health she had hoped for.  However, her life has become a symbol and hope for peace.  Every year children across Japan (and beyond) fold paper cranes for this Children's Peace Memorial.  The "booths" to the side of the monument are full of paper cranes.  Next time I see origami I will think of Sadako's story.  

3.18.2008

A-Bomb Dome


This "ABomb Dome" is one of few remaining buildings testifying to results of the August 6, 1945 bombing of Hiroshima.  Many other buildings that "survived" were torn down.  This one was saved and eventually became an UNESCO World Heritage site which means it will be "eternally" saved. (as long as "eternal" can be) 

There is a tram system that survived (in part) too. One of those tram lines passes by the A-Dome at least every 5 minutes. Inside Hiroshima-ites are on their way to work, going shopping or going home.  My last morning in Hiroshima before heading back to Korea I was on my way to Hiroshima Station and it dawned on me, "Most of these folks in the tram pass by this A-Dome every single day and probably at least two times a day." I wondered if they even see it anymore. Does anyone think about where the tram is stopping? The conductor recording calls out the name of the stop in Japanese and English.  In English it said something like, "A-Bomb Station, next stop A-Bomb Station.  If you are going to the Peace Memorial Museum, get off here." I imagine like many things we see and hear everyday that this A-Bomb Dome and its tram stop are just places to glaze over on one's way to work.  Could that be?  For someone like me, who blows in and out of town, it seems hardly possible.  But I suspect for the resident it is just another tourist attraction regarding a significant time in the cities past.  

On the surface of Hiroshima, the only part I really saw, there is very little which speaks to the events of 63 years ago.  As I walked through the city there were random placards or mini-memorials to Atomic Bomb victims.  Hiroshima is a stately city, a center of commerce and it's sophisticated in its transportation and architecture. It is one thing to read about world events like the atomic bombing of Hiroshima and develop mental pictures of what happened and what must be now.  Yet it is totally different to visit and know from seeing and hearing what life really IS.  Hiroshima has a horrific past, and it is a past to remember, but it has definitely moved on into the present and seems to be flourishing.

So why is it that a city and country like Hiroshima and Japan can flourish?  Yet other places around the world with tragic histories continue to struggle.  Of course the answer is layered and complex.   

Tree Survivor








       

Alone these two photographs are nothing. What...a tree? So what! I didn't just go around shooting trees while I was in Hiroshima. This tree, however, while it is broken, mis-shaped and in need of supports is a testimony to life after the A-Bomb. Somehow it survived the blast and continues to live on through the seasons. It was getting ready to spout green on this mid- March day.

Link to Photos

Look to the right under "Links" for the link to my recent photo's taken while I was in Hiroshima, Japan. CLICK on "Flickr Photos"