Hope a year after
11/03/12 05:36
There are turning points in life – dates that you always remember. For most people here in the United States 9-11 has become a date etched in the public memory. In Japan, the date is 3 – 11. That’s today. Today is the one-year anniversary of the devastating 9.0 magnitude earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster that were all rolled into one. At 2:46 p.m. the precise moment when the earthquake pulsed 80 miles off the northeastern coast of Japan, the country paused for a moment of silence. Emperor Akihito, just 22 days after bypass surgery, stood and joined his nation in their expression of grief and loss.
The loss is huge. The official toll lists 15,853 confirmed deaths and an additional 3,282 missing. 6,023 are listed as injured. Grief for those who have died has merged with grief for those missing and the country comes to grips with the simple fact that there are many bodies that will never be recovered.
Hundreds of thousands of lives are still in turmoil. More than 330,000 people are still living in temporary shelters. The government estimates that there is over 25 million tons of debris, of which only about 5% has been processed. Piles upon piles of wood, concrete and steel fill fields near the worst hit areas. The financial costs are staggering and will not be fully known for years.
So, in the midst of the destruction and debris, in the midst of disrupted lives, in the midst of grief and uncertainty, the nation paused for a moment of silence. Bells rang, prayers were offered, incense sticks and candles were lit, and the world watched as the nation paused briefly.
Then they went back to work.
The rebuilding has barely begun. Huge piles of wreckage dominate the landscape where people hope that one day soon there will be the sounds and sights of construction. There are dreams of rebuilding.
In the midst of all of it, there are a few signs of hope.
At Rikuzentakata, the surge of the tsunami was 44 feet high. The sea wall was destroyed. The pine forest that surrounded the town was laid waste. The highest number of missing is the count of people who once lived in Rikuzentakata. Thousands may never be found, though families are still hoping that bodies may one day be found for proper burial. The new sea wall has been built – higher and stronger than the old one. And in the midst of the devastation and debris, a lone tree stands. It has become famous throughout Japan as a symbol of resilience and survival and hope.
The pine tree is the symbol of Rikukzenkata. The locals can remember the time, just over a year ago, when 70.000 pine trees stood along the beach in the area. Only one survived the rush of water. The trees were planted about 350 years ago as a shield against the sea air to protect agricultural produce. The trees became a larger source of income than the crops they were planted to protect. Before the tsunami, over a million tourists visited the area each year to take in the sea and look at the beautiful trees.
Locals have vowed to once again plant new trees, even if it takes hundreds of years for the forest to recover.
At Otsuchi, after the earthquake came the tsunami. After the tsunami, came a fire that ravaged the entire city and destroyed most of the buildings that had survived the quake and flood. All that remains today are foundations. In order to facilitate the clean up, crews have laid new roads into the area and some access roads have been built within the city, between the foundations, to facilitate the work of crews who are sorting rubble to see what can be recovered or recycled. The work isn’t going as quickly as hoped. Crews, however, are on the job each day and to support the crews, vending machines have been installed at various locations throughout the town. In a scene of devastation, the machines stand as a sign that normalcy might one day return. You wouldn’t think that a pop machine would be a sign of hope, but for those who come back to the area to wonder whether or not they will one day have a home to replace the one that was lost, seeing the machines is a powerful symbol that life is returning, even if progress is much slower than desired.
We are far from Japan. But our prayers will join with the prayers of others around the world as we seek to share a bit of their grief. Throughout the years, our sisters and brothers in Japan have been the focus of our prayers in worship, in our Vacation Bible School, which devoted a day to Japan, and in many other settings as we once again recall that we are linked and bonded with people who live in distant locations.
Today at a ceremony at Tokyo’s National Theater, Emperor Akihito said, “We shall not let our memory of the disasters fade. I hope all the people will keep the victims in their hearts.”
Those who have suffered sudden and traumatic loss often express a fear that their loved one will be forgotten. They know first hand how quickly things can change. They know that the will never forget the loved one who has now died. They look incredulously as the world goes on and think to themselves, “How can things be normal after this?” Over time they begin to fear that memory will fade and the one they loved will somehow be forgotten. In places where the world has experienced massive loss of life, where death has overwhelmed us, we have always pledged to never forget. This is now true of the ones who were swept away by the tsunami. We will not forget.
We will not forget that they were fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. We will not forget that they had hopes and fears and dreams that were their own. We will not forget that they lived and loved. We will not reduce human lives to mere statistics only.
At 2:46 p.m. today, I will be issuing the call to worship at a regular service at Westhills South Assisted Living. I will mention the people of Japan in my invocation and again in my sermon and in other prayers. We will pause for a moment of solidarity with those who have been praying all day long, as the earth turns and the moment arrives in various time zones. It will be night in Japan as we pray.
And when darkness descends in our part of the earth, the sun will be rising in Japan and hope will be present as the workers go back to their jobs. It will be years of recovery work. And we know that for many “normal” will never return. Like them, we will not forget.
The loss is huge. The official toll lists 15,853 confirmed deaths and an additional 3,282 missing. 6,023 are listed as injured. Grief for those who have died has merged with grief for those missing and the country comes to grips with the simple fact that there are many bodies that will never be recovered.
So, in the midst of the destruction and debris, in the midst of disrupted lives, in the midst of grief and uncertainty, the nation paused for a moment of silence. Bells rang, prayers were offered, incense sticks and candles were lit, and the world watched as the nation paused briefly.
Then they went back to work.
The rebuilding has barely begun. Huge piles of wreckage dominate the landscape where people hope that one day soon there will be the sounds and sights of construction. There are dreams of rebuilding.
In the midst of all of it, there are a few signs of hope.
The pine tree is the symbol of Rikukzenkata. The locals can remember the time, just over a year ago, when 70.000 pine trees stood along the beach in the area. Only one survived the rush of water. The trees were planted about 350 years ago as a shield against the sea air to protect agricultural produce. The trees became a larger source of income than the crops they were planted to protect. Before the tsunami, over a million tourists visited the area each year to take in the sea and look at the beautiful trees.
Locals have vowed to once again plant new trees, even if it takes hundreds of years for the forest to recover.
We are far from Japan. But our prayers will join with the prayers of others around the world as we seek to share a bit of their grief. Throughout the years, our sisters and brothers in Japan have been the focus of our prayers in worship, in our Vacation Bible School, which devoted a day to Japan, and in many other settings as we once again recall that we are linked and bonded with people who live in distant locations.
Today at a ceremony at Tokyo’s National Theater, Emperor Akihito said, “We shall not let our memory of the disasters fade. I hope all the people will keep the victims in their hearts.”
Those who have suffered sudden and traumatic loss often express a fear that their loved one will be forgotten. They know first hand how quickly things can change. They know that the will never forget the loved one who has now died. They look incredulously as the world goes on and think to themselves, “How can things be normal after this?” Over time they begin to fear that memory will fade and the one they loved will somehow be forgotten. In places where the world has experienced massive loss of life, where death has overwhelmed us, we have always pledged to never forget. This is now true of the ones who were swept away by the tsunami. We will not forget.
We will not forget that they were fathers and mothers and sons and daughters. We will not forget that they had hopes and fears and dreams that were their own. We will not forget that they lived and loved. We will not reduce human lives to mere statistics only.
At 2:46 p.m. today, I will be issuing the call to worship at a regular service at Westhills South Assisted Living. I will mention the people of Japan in my invocation and again in my sermon and in other prayers. We will pause for a moment of solidarity with those who have been praying all day long, as the earth turns and the moment arrives in various time zones. It will be night in Japan as we pray.
And when darkness descends in our part of the earth, the sun will be rising in Japan and hope will be present as the workers go back to their jobs. It will be years of recovery work. And we know that for many “normal” will never return. Like them, we will not forget.