When I was invited to attend the Peace Pilgrimage of Catholic U.S. Universities as an intern for Mapping Nuclear Legacies, I had no idea how meaningful and enlightening it would be. We landed in Hiroshima at about 9 or 10 in the morning, dropped our luggage at the hotel, and then took a tram to the Hiroshima Peace Park and Memorial Museum.
When entering the museum, you walk through pictures and stories of what Hiroshima looked like before and after the atomic bomb was dropped. I was thinking about how this would affect me, and at this point I was more relaxed, because there were pictures I had seen before. The very next hall was the main section; it showed the devastation on August 6 and the effects of radiation. This was followed by the first exhibit that brought tears to my eyes. It was called “Cries of the Soul,” and was filled with belongings from victims, survivors, and their families. I began to cry when the signs and videos explained the hardships and biases people faced for being survivors. During this section I noticed an older gentleman sitting on a bench quietly crying. A little boy ran by before vomiting on the floor. This gave me insight into what others were feeling and pointed to our commonalities—we were all feeling the weight of the messages deeply.
After exiting the main area, I sat against a window overlooking the peace park, all decorated and set up for the commemoration. I was trying to take pictures, but when I looked back at the gallery almost all of them were blurry because my hands were shaking the entire time. I waited for the others while I collected myself.
After the small group I was with regrouped, we proceeded to the next area, which was filled with information about the dangers of nuclear weapons, how they are developed and used, what the nuclear age is, and why and how society is to abolish them. I spent time at the interactive table reading about the health effects from the bomb, the immediate signs, ones that came years or decades later, and how they still affect families today. Looking at all the pictures and listening to all the testimonies in the next room led me to cry for the second time.
As our group made its way to the exit, the exhibits were all about the city’s recovery after the war and the bombings, what can still be done to support these efforts, and the importance of creating a peaceful world. I left with a heavy heart, but a mind full of fire for what I wanted to do. So, I headed back to the hotel, walked through the Peace Park and by the Hypocenter Dome, grabbed some food, went to my room, and sat down to do some writing. I wrote about my day and what I wanted to write for others to try and convey the emotions and purpose of this trip.
On our second day, I found my way to the beautiful Shukkeien Garden. Originally built in 1620, it was destroyed in 1945 by the atomic bomb but was soon restored by the Hiroshima Prefectural Board of Education. As you walk around there are signs where the stories of restored buildings are told. One that was particularly special was the Kokokyo bridge that connects across the middle of the pond. Kokokyo means “rainbow bridge,” as is said to be a connection to the road travelled by lost souls on their way to eternal life.
I had lunch with a group from Loyola University before heading to a panel called “80 Years of the Atomic Bombings: Toward Collaboration for Nuclear Weapons Abolition,” hosted at the Elizabeth University of Music, a former Jesuit University.
There we heard Japanese, American, and Korean bishops. One of the parts I starred in my pamphlet was a piece by Cardinal McElroy of the Archdiocese of Washington, D.C. He talked about the stance the Church has about the immorality of having nuclear weapons. The other main statement that gave me great hope was one from Bishop Edgar Cuntapay Gacutan, Diocese of Sendai, President of the Council for Justice and Peace:
“Furthermore, we must not forget the existence of victims related to nuclear testing and uranium mining, the ‘Global Hibakusha’ who force us to take a broader view of atomic survivors. Therefore, the development, testing, production, possession, and use of nuclear weapons are ethically impermissible.”
I really appreciated that the bishop took the time to recognize that Japan is not the only place with people affected by nuclear weapons. In our meetings leading up to the trip, it surprised me when the Japanese students had never heard of the Trinity Test or its effects on the people in New Mexico. That being one of my main areas of interest, particularly the health effects, I felt happy that it was a message this panel was hoping to get out to the rest of the world.
As someone who wants to go into the healthcare field, Bishop Goro Matsuura touched on a topic of history that I was unaware of and that shook me. Japan allowed the US to investigate the outcome of the bombing. They were helped by Japanese physicians and conducted various experiments, but not to help cure these people. They were simply looking for data, dehumanizing all those suffering people. As healthcare workers, we want to help the vulnerable and the hurt, not stand by and record their life as a data point. It was appalling that anyone could be so insensitive and so cold to a fellow human being.
How anyone could walk into a place where it smelled of burning flesh, to see children in tattered clothes and not being able to tell what was bloodied cloth and what was skin melting off, to hear the pained cries of those who themselves were in pain as people they knew and people they didn’t died all around them. For them to walk past the mass graves filled with burning bodies and people carrying loved ones in search of help. To check those people off as a number, a bit of data is not only insulting, but inhuman. I shame those who participated in these inconceivable atrocities.
At the end of the meeting, the bishops from the US, Korea, and Japan all jointly issued a statement of peace to protect all life. Undersigned with all the bishops and their dioceses that supported this statement, more soon to come hopefully.
We then attended a mass at the neighboring World Peace Memorial Cathedral and after dinner had our first student group dinner with our facilitators and select faculty. It was there I was finally able to meet the friends I had made over Zoom and talk face to face. I really enjoyed hearing what everyone was studying and their various interests in our common goal of peace. ~
August 6. At 8:15 this morning, 80 years ago, the atomic bomb was dropped on the Japanese city of Hiroshima. On that day the sky went bright as the sun and then plunged into darkness and fire. Many who lost their lives most likely had no idea what was coming as the blast burned them into unidentifiable corpses.
That morning, I attended mass at the World Peace Memorial Cathedral with fellow members of the US Catholic University Peace Pilgrimage. At 8:15, the bells rang out across the city along with sirens. I didn’t know that it would affect me as it did, tears welled in my eyes as we stood for a minute of reflection and silence. My mind flooded with thoughts and prayers, worries and concerns. As I closed my eyes, my mind heard screams of fear, pictured faces of terror, mothers holding their children close, fathers running to get to their families, babies crying for lost siblings, and grandparents holding each other close as they were buried under the rubble of their house that had stood for generations.
As my mind wandered the bells kept ringing, each toll a reminder of an event that should never be repeated, and yet…The thought causes my legs to shake with not only sorrow, but anger and disbelief that humans could, having seen the damage and destruction of the atomic bomb, be so cruel as to pass that fate to another city just three days later. In my mind, the ending of lives in any capacity on that scale, especially a civilian target, is nothing short of pure evil.
August 6 was a hard day, affecting me more than I thought it would. Although I was invited to return to the museum, I declined and stayed in my room for longer than I planned, just sitting with my thoughts, writing down whatever came to mind. I could only bring myself to leave around 1 pm, as there was a second symposium being held, again at the Elisabeth University of Music.
The event began with a beautiful organ performance. I closed my eyes and just listened. The organist was brilliant—I could feel what she was playing, the sorrow and the hope. I believe it was just what I needed before the lectures started.
After a couple opening remarks we had two keynote speakers, Cardinal McElroy of Washington, DC and Reverend Father Dowd, President of Notre Dame University, moderated by Dr. Michael Patrick Murphy from Loyola University Chicago. Cardinal McElroy spoke about renewing catholic teaching on war and peace, while Father Dowd spoke on the role of universities in discussions of peace and nuclear disarmament.
This was followed by two panels, one discussing the ethics of nuclear power, and the other on nuclear justice. The second panel was moderated by Dr. David Dault from Loyola University Chicago, a professor who taught a nuclear security and catholic social teaching class I recently took. His question for the panelists was a familiar one, one that the students of his class were asked several times throughout the course. The question was along the lines of, What do you think about nuclear power and nuclear weapons? Should we have both, one or the other, or neither? Why?
I, having answered this question, was very intrigued by what these university faculty were going to bestow upon us. I was ultimately a little let down, as most of them danced around the question, never completely picking a side outright. Though one, Professor Yuki Miyamoto from DePaul University, answered in a way that made me question my former opinion on the matter.
Miyamoto talked about how neither were good, how nuclear weapons are dangerous and something that should never be used, something we agreed on. But it was the second part of her answer that made me pause. She talked about the effects on workers and inhabitants that live near to nuclear power plants. They are facing serious health risks and are subject to more danger, just because they’re near this nuclear power. There is also the issue of storing and disposing of nuclear waste in a way that doesn’t hurt the environment or those living near the waste. Hearing it explained like that was eye opening and helpful to give me an internal debate on my stance.
I think that nuclear weapons are inherently evil, that they should not exist, but I used to say yes to nuclear power, as it’s one of the cleaner powers we have right now. Now, I think that nuclear power should be regulated and used only when absolutely necessary. There are other ways of having clean energy that are more sustainable and environmentally friendly to the land and those living there.
After the panel ended, I spoke to some classmates about my thoughts and found they were having the same thoughts and intrigue about this new revelation. We talked about it as some headed to an optional interfaith event, and I walked back to the hotel to continue writing some of my new ideas. I rejoined the group at a dinner party where everyone was present, and we spoke about our experiences in Hiroshima, as it was our last night there.
The next day, we checked out of our hotel early and boarded two buses that would take us to the former Jesuit novitiate for mass in a traditional Japanese-style chapel. We then were given a tour of the grounds. On the tour we walked the stations of the cross and found ourselves at the cemetery.
There was a ledge that we all gathered on, and standing in a circle, we were invited to pray. There we stood, silent, until someone started to sing. It was just one person at first, but soon the whole group joined in, and for about 10 to 15 minutes we stood there holding hands and singing. I almost cried. It was very moving to be with a group of people who were so loving and compassionate for peace.
After we prayed, we found our way back to the buses and headed to the train station, where we boarded the bullet train, the Shinkansen, for Hakata. We then switched to a bus and drove about an hour or two through the beautiful countryside where we finally arrived in Nagasaki. We were dropped at our hotels and had dinner with those staying at the same hotel. I loved being able to sit and have a good debrief with my fellow students, summarizing our adventures and expressing things we were excited for.
After a long travel day, I was happy to go to bed early that night and be ready for the jam-packed day ahead. August 8 was the busiest day for the students—We had mass at 6:30 am at Nakamachi Church, which was rebuilt in 1951 as it was destroyed by the bomb.
After mass, we walked to the bus station and took a bus to the Nagasaki Atomic Bomb Museum and the National Memorial for the Victims of the Atomic Bomb. This museum was very different from the one in Hiroshima.
In Hiroshima, the lighting was very dim, with only pictures and exhibits illuminated. This led to a more emotional feeling being developed as you toured through. In Nagasaki though, only the first room was like that. It housed the original wall from a cathedral that had partially survived the bomb. After that room, everything was laid out in a very factual way.
It started with a timeline of Nagasaki during the war, a very proud city, and then laid out the events that took place in the time leading up to the bombing. There was information on what the US was doing, when they were building the bomb, when they put it onto the carrier, and what cities in Japan were a backup option.
Something that shocked me was reading that other countries knew what the US was planning before Hiroshima. Winston Churchill, for example, agreed and signed off on the idea. I then entered an area with an accurate model of the bomb, saw what it was comprised of, and watched a video of the American soldiers loading it onto the bomber the morning of August 9, 1945.
I got to see and touch some of the artifacts from families that donated possessions of loved ones and heirlooms distorted by the bomb. I was fine until coming face-to-face with the tattered clothes of a school boy. He was only 6 years old, his clothes are all that his mother had to remember him by.
After that exhibit I walked to the next room, which housed testimonies and pictures. I read them all, and one struck close to my heart and made the tears slip from my eyes. A mother, sitting in a relief station breastfeeding her 6-month-old baby while bruised and bleeding. Her baby died 10 days later. Her picture was one of strength to me, her arms strong and her heart true as she clutched her baby to her and kept doing her job as she herself was suffering.
Another story I read was that of a young girl trapped under a beam in her burning house. Her brother and the sailors couldn’t lift the beam off of the girl and were going to leave her there. Then, down the street, naked, scorched, and bruised was her mom. They explained the situation to her. She looked at her daughter, whose eyes were filled with fear, and she slid her shoulder under the beam and lifted it off her child. The flesh tore off her shoulder and only muscle was exposed, she collapsed to the ground and died that night, but she saved her baby.
Those are the stories that should be taught and told when people are trying to decide if nuclear weapons are worth the destruction they cause. I was so inspired by these two stories that I wrote a short poem about the two. It will be published in an academic paper later this academic year.
After finishing the self-guided museum tour, I regrouped with the others, and the director and vice director of the National Memorial gave us a tour and talked about the memorial. We listened to a story of a survivor told by a kind volunteer whose job is to keep the stories of survivors alive.
We then boarded the bus and headed to lunch at Nagasaki Junshin Catholic Middle and High School. We met up with the rest of the students that hadn’t been in Hiroshima and got to sit with our groups and talk over lunch.
Later, we headed over to Esumi Memorial Hall inside the school for our student talks entitled “Encounters and Hope.” We were welcomed by the President of Nagasaki Junshin Catholic University, Sister Sakamoto, and were given an introduction on the method of dialogue from Dean Peter Jones of the Institute of Pastoral Studies at Loyola University Chicago.
We then had about three to four hours of facilitated dialogue within our groups with the goal of creating a prayer for inclusion in the Peace Mass on August 9. My table was comprised of our facilitator, Sister Sakamoto, three Japanese students, and three US students, including myself.
We each come from different backgrounds and areas of interest, but after coming together and listening to each other speaking, we created a prayer for peace:
“Our Lord, help us to remove the needles of pain and hate from our hearts and help us to forgive, respect, and love in a way our differences help us grow together, a community built to reflect the past.”
After the dialogue, we all dispersed to get dinner before heading to the Nagasaki Hypocenter Park for an interfaith commemorative ceremony for the victims of the atomic bombing. There we were able to place a flower by the monument and listen as leaders from many faiths gave respects. There were even some musical parts where a choir or orchestra would play.
That night, I went with some of the other students to relax at an onsen in the hills of Nagasaki. The views were beautiful—The city was aglow with lights but still surrounded by stars and nature. It was a much-needed reset before the next day.
August 9 the day the second atomic bomb was dropped in Nagasaki, Japan. I attended a live screening of the Nagasaki Peace Ceremony with several others from my group. I was even pulled aside for an interview with NIJ, a news station in Japan covering the commemoration. I was happy to be given the chance to tell what the group was doing there and hopefully spread the word that there are those who care and are trying to raise awareness and start a cause for change.
After the interview, I placed a flower in front of the memorial inside the hall and returned to my seat for the commemoration’s start. I was very moved by the sound of bells ringing and the sirens sounding through the city as we stood in silence at 11:02 am. I was happy to listen to all of the speakers and their messages for hope, but the thing I loved the most was listening to the Junshin Catholic University Choir sing “1000 Cranes.”
One of my new friends from my student group was a part of the choir, along with a few other students on our pilgrimage. Again, I spent most of my day writing back at the hotel. A sweet young girl and her mom came all the way from Okinawa to interview some participants, and I was asked, along with two other students from the US, to share with them our thoughts.
After the interview, I wrote the poem that I spoke of earlier before heading over to Urakami Cathedral. I got there a little earlier and was able to learn how to make a paper crane from a kind woman who saw me struggling with the paper instructions.
Mass was beautiful. We were invited to go to the chapel of the atomic-bombed Mary—a statue of Mary that survived the bombing but was left partially destroyed and uniquely burned, with most of her face being unmarred, except for her burned eyes, which I had been hoping to see. After the mass we held bamboo torches and walked from the church to the Hypocenter Park. We prayed in front of the statue and then took taxis back to the hotels.
The next day started with a beautiful mass at the Oura Cathedral, which opened just for us and is the oldest standing church in Japan. It’s also where Japanese Christians were “rediscovered” in 1865. The church was small, but beautiful. It stood on a hill. Sitting in a pew surrounded by elegant stained glass and art depicting the love of faith, it’s hard not to fall in love with the space.
I ate lunch with others at our hotel before heading back to Urakami Cathedral for a final panel. We heard remarks from Archbishop Nakumura of Nagasaki, Mariko Iijima from Sophia University, Mark Bosco from Georgetown University, and Claire Noonan from Loyola University Chicago.
They were followed by speakers reflecting on the topic of nuclear legacies. I was very moved by Myrriah Gomez of the University of New Mexico, who shared a touching story of her home in New Mexico that was affected by nuclear testing. She spoke about her family and people they knew that are still being plagued by remnants of the past and fear the future. New Mexico is home to the largest nuclear research site in the US, and people living there are still in danger from those sites and powerplants in the area. After hearing responses from bishops and two Urakami parishioners, it was time for the student panel.
I was one of many students that shared what we had learned, how we had grown, and what we had accomplished at our dialogue on August 8. I read one of the prayers that wasn’t read at the mass the day before.
After we finished, there was a final panel with the presidents of most of the universities that were present. They talked about what their takeaways and plans were after this pilgrimage concluded. After the panel we took a bus to a final dinner and farewell. This was probably one of my favorite moments, but also the most sad, as I miss my new friends.
I will say that after this experience, I am very thankful to Professor Hirokazu Miyazaki of Northwestern who allowed me to have been a part of such a special trip and a meaningful journey I am not likely to forget. I have come away with newfound knowledge and appreciation for those who are called to do this kind of work and are putting themselves on a mission for peace.