Ryushin's Recollection of Day 2-3

Pt. II

So, I mentioned that [the previous post] was the end of the first day. In truth, two days had gone by. We left San Francisco on the 29th, and crossed the Date Line into the 30th. We arose to face the proud image of the 31st. I greeted the morning in my traditional way, meditating for an hour. Jogen joined me when he awoke.

As Rob and Michael arose we decided to go on a brief tour of Myoshin-ji before breakfast. Myoshin-ji is called a temple, though it contains about fifteen other temples in its walls. Picture it like Thanksgiving dinner with your centerpiece turkey surrounded by mashed potatoes, cranberry bread, corn, and so on. Each side dish would be the equivalent of another temple, most are family-run. The big turkey would be the enormous lecture hall, Hondo (chanting hall), and Zendo all rolled into one in the center of the table/complex. What about the apple pie that tops it all off when you thought you couldn’t handle anymore? That would be realizing that you are really in Japan.

Anyway, originally there would be several temples where monks trained under different masters while existing under the general title of Myoshin-ji. Now, interest in Buddhism is declining in Japan. As a result, many temples are empty--run by families, or run by a minimal staff--leading to their state of disrepair. As we walked around in the morning, I could imagine two hundred years ago, seeing monks going to and fro about the grounds.

The importance of monasteries can still be seen in the grandeur of Myoshin-ji’s main buildings. The lecture hall, Hondo, and Zendo are located in the center of the complex. These buildings were created in 1342. They have probably burned down a few times in the last 600 + years. However, since they have been rebuilt exactly the Japanese refer to the buildings as being the same. This is one of the MANY differences between the Western and the Eastern mind.

The buildings are four to five stories high with traditional tiled roof and Chinese-style curved corners. The chanting hall is the most famous building in Myoshin-ji. It is often called the “Dragon Hall” because there is an enormous painting of a dragon on the ceiling by Kano Tanyu. Tanyu was a famous painter of dragons. The abbot of Myoshin-ji went to him and asked him to paint a dragon on the ceiling of their chanting hall. The only stipulation was that it had to be a painting of a dragon from life. Tanyu told the abbot that he had never seen a living dragon, and the zen master told him he there were many at Myoshin-ji. When the artist arrived and told the master that he couldn’t see a single dragon the master responded, “You can’t see them? What a pity.”

So, Tanyu took up sincere training with this zen master for two years. One day he told the master, “I have finally seen a dragon!” The master said, “Good, but can you tell me what its roar sounds like?” His bubble burst, Tanyu returned to his meditation. For another year Tanyu practiced diligently. In the end he painted the masterpiece that is the dragon of Myoshin-ji.

We headed back to the hotel and got there in time for breakfast. Breakfast was served on a long, low table. Often people will sit seiza (kneeling on their heels) for a whole meal. Luckily, this restaurant offered a way to cheat. There was a large hole underneath the table where one could comfortably place their feet and be sitting as if they were in a chair. Breakfast consisted of tofu, Miso soup, Rice Gruel, seaweed, a mushy version of seaweed, a piece of fish, napa cabbage, and tea. It was a fairly large meal, but as it was our first Japanese meal we were hungry for the flavors. I should mention that the Japanese do not consider seafood to be outside of the vegetarian diet. In fact, depending on who you ask, the Japanese consider very little to be outside of the vegetarian diet. In fact, there are very few Japanese vegetarians.

After we ate, we had a greeting from Chozen, Hogen, Kaz, and Jihiken. We went over the plans for the day, and gave important information about cell phone numbers. We finished our meal and gathered our belongings for the day. Hogen and another pilgrim (Onshin) were off to Kyoto station to get our rail passes validated, so Hogen enlisted me as the carrier of his robes. I was listed as Hogen’s attendant for the trip, but that means very little, as Hogen rarely asks for help. It also felt appropriate to carry around the robes before getting permission to put on robes.

We walked as a rambling pack of pilgrims down to the train station. In Japan, it is rare to see someone who is not Japanese. I imagine the 35 of us were quite a sight. Add to that the sight of westerners with bald heads and samue (Zen Buddhist clothes).

Chozen stopped the group and said, “One of the qualities of Jizo is to enter realms of suffering.” That said, she led us through a Pachinko parlor. Pachinko is a Japanese pastime that is a combination of a slot machine and pinball. It’s amazingly loud game, and often the rooms have flashing lights and are quite shiny. So, if we looked odd on the street, I can only guess that people were quite confused to see a stream of westerners wandering through this casino-like setting.

We took the local train to an area in northwest Kyoto known as Saga Arashiyama. We began walking to Adashino Nembutsu-ji. Kyoto has grown over the centuries that it has been a city. People living on the edges of the city used to bury their family members' remains in the nearby forest. As the city expanded, city builders came upon these burial markers and had to figure out a way to build around them. The response was to gather them together at several temples. In August there is a festival called Obon where people return to their home towns in order to honor their departed family members. During that time they light hundreds of candles at this temple to honor the 8,000 people who are remembered there.

As we were on our way to Adashino it began raining. Jikan and I were towards the front, and we took the stoic Zen approach and sallied forth. The rain grew harder. And the rain grew harder still. We passed by a store with some translucent thin plastic umbrellas for 300 yen (about three dollars), and we gave in to the idea of keeping dry.

Umbrellas in hand, we stepped into the street. Then the wind picked up. We retreated to a covered porch and watched as soaked pilgrims slowly came around the corner. Some had bought similar umbrellas in a variety of brilliant colors.

Together we marched on to Adashino Nembutsu-ji. Seeing the rows of stone, each with a carving of Buddha on the front, was moving. There was a section for children's markers, with a Jizo statue as the central figure. We gathered around the statue and recited the Jizo Mantra. Slowly people left for the next temple.

Located further up the way was the Otagi Nembutsu-ji. This temple is home to 1,200 “Jizos.” Jizo is very popular in Japan, but often a mistaken figure. If it’s cute and Buddhist, it’s often labeled “Jizo” when inconography specialists would wag their finger in disapproval.

Anyway, this temple also home to two Nio statues. When beings heard the Buddha's teaching and decided to become Buddhist or protectors of Buddhism, the Buddha always had a job for them to do. If they had a wife and kids, they were lay Buddhists. If they were free of--or able to--relinquish their job and family they would become monks or nuns. If they were deities they would become protectors of the teachings.

SO, the Nio were fierce deities who became protectors of temples. They stand at the gates of a temple to keep out those who would cause harm to the temple. They usually stand about one and a half to twice life size. They are usually red with big eyes and scowls. They have muscles and veins leaping from their body. Not the kind of being you’d want to have a scuffle with.

At any rate, the temple which these Nio protect was in a state of disrepair, and the priest was going to have to sell the Nio statues to a movie company in order to keep the temple. Then the priest had an idea to get over a thousand pieces of stone (about three feet hight by two feet wide and deep). He offered to have people come and carve a statue in exchange for paying a price to the temple. Now there are these 1,200 “Jizo” statues. They say that if you look you can find one that is in your own image. Believe it or not: someone found me.

By this time, we were late to lunch. The videographers got a taxi down the mountain, and the rest of us waited for the bus. When the bus came it was full (as it was still raining lightly), so only a few made it on. Chozen said she would walk back. Seeing our leader, who was 1-3 decades older than most pilgrims, we hopped to and followed her back.

The next stop was at Rinsen- ji. This temple is run by Tom Yuho Krischner, a long-time friend of Chozen and Hogen. He served us a bento (box) lunch and green tea. As we ate, he told us the story of Zen coming to Japan. He also told about Muso Soseki, the founder of his temple. He recounted more than I will here. The essence is that Tom lives in a 700 year old temple, which only looks about 200 years old…mostly.

After the show-and-tell we had a jukai ceremony. Jukai is when someone takes the Buddhist precepts, gets a new name, and receives a rakusu (zen bib) and lineage chart. The rakusu is a handmade by the person who receives it and is worn as a reminder of the vows one takes. The new name also serves as a reminder of their vows.

We gathered in a room with tatami (thick bamboo mats) and paper screens for doors. The paper was peeling from age, and covered with simple drawings of monks, most likely based on Zen stories. In the background were a chorus of cicadas ("semi," in Japanese). It was an amazing setting for the ceremony.

We did bows, chanted the Heart sutra (a fundamental Buddhist text) in Japanese, and each person was invited to take or retake the vows with Harald Schoecklman (one of our German pilgrims). Harald received his rakusu and the dharma name Yugen, which means “Courage through the mystery.”

After the ceremony, we were free to explore as we chose. Jikan, Jogen, and I headed off to look at Japanese trinkets. Alas, most of the stores were closed or closing. We did stop into a few shops before they closed, though. Outside of most stores they have umbrella racks. Often we would forget to put our umbrellas in the rack, and the rest of the time we forgot to take them out. Jogen ended up losing his umbrella this way.

We decided to go sightseeing instead. So we crossed over the river and walked along this small pathway which ran alongside the water. Occasionally bikes would stream past us. A few times, little Japanese cars came along. The road is really small, so we had to step over to the very edge to let them pass. People got a great kick out of seeing Jikan and me dressed up in our samue. I don’t think they see many nuns around (people often mistook her for Japanese), and even fewer westerners.

We headed back to the hotel after our long day, umbrellas in hand. We stopped at the Daily Yamazaki for a small dinner. Daily Yamazaki is a Japanese 7-11 where you can get Japanese fast food. Some of the yummy things include: sushi rolls with fermented soy beans, soba (buckwheat) noodles, inari (marinated tofu with rice stuffed inside), and a variety of interesting drinks including Pocari Sweat, Amino Supply, and others. Most of the food involved tofu and rice, or seaweed and rice (as far as non-meat/seafood went).

I should point out that people in Japan don’t eat while standing, and they NEVER eat while walking. People will stare in astonishment if they see you doing such a thing. The only exception is that you can stand and eat ice cream. We tried our best to fit in.

Back at the hotel we enjoyed our dinner. I enjoyed a soothing bath (a half hour was my maximum tolerance for soaking). We all meditated for a bit, and then went to bed.

Thus ended the third day.

Love,
Ryushin

A Place for Debate?

I asked Ryushin if I could post his response to an e-mail his dad sent him. The essay his father wanted to share makes a case for the atomic bombings as hastening the end of the war and resulting in fewer overall deaths than the alternatives.

It's important to acknowledge that there are diversity of opinions about the use of the Bomb, and that Jizos for Peace isn't about any particular opinion or political standpoint. Rather, it's a person-to-person message of reconciliation and healing.

I'm not sure what it is in us humans that wants to engage in debate about past actions. As if we are going to affect 60-year-old US foreign policy, perhaps? Given that the possibility of not using the Bomb was never considered by policymakers, debate in this case seems particularly futile. My sense is that the "Should we have dropped the Bomb?" question is covering up another question deep in our hearts-- something like "Are we good or evil?"-- which is not answered by argumentation.

Chozen Roshi has said that the project is about "cleaning up" the hurt that persists in the wake of war's devastation-- and also that wars are an unfortunate and inevitable aspect of human history. What's humbling about the nuclear age is that there is so much destructive power available; you used to really have to work to slaughter people by the tens of thousands.

I have included Ryushin's response first, because it's the purpose of this post. After reading it, take a look at the article in question, which follows it. I found it quite interesting as a history lesson.

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Dear Dad,

I appreciate your interest in the remembrance of the 60th anniversary of the bombing, and your decision to do research on the facts. In making preparations to go to Hiroshima and Nagasaki for these Peace Days, we at the monastery also learned about the events and decisions that led up to the decision to use the atomic bombs.

I agree with many of the facts stated in Mr. Murray’s essay. At the same time, I would like to suggest that Mr. Murray’s intention is to lead us to the absolute conclusion that the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was essential. In my research, I have heard and read many facts which could be stated in such a way to support the opposite argument. However, I think that essentially this is a debate of ethics, and thus it is not a matter of absolutes.

I think we- as Americans- would like to feel absolved of any guilt for being the country responsible for initially designing and detonating these bombs. However, it has not been my experience that justifying our country’s actions sets my heart at peace. I have found greater peace in accepting any responsibility due to me by the simple fact of my birth as an American. I have many luxuries as a result of being born in a first world country. I also take part of the responsibility for our government’s actions, regardless of whether I agree with them or not.

So, I’ve just returned from Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We were there for two weeks, with the emphasis being on bringing nearly 500,000 images of Jizo Bodhisattva to those cities- each Jizo representing 1 of the 270,000 people who died in the first year after the bombings. When I tried to describe what I was going to do in a few ways, I said I was going to apologize to Japan, and I noticed Americans would get quite tense and occasionally defensive. I said I was going to bring Peace, and I realized I had no idea what that meant or how I could do that. Having gone, I have a better sense of the reason why it was important to go.

In Japan, in August, it is hot. I didn’t have a thermometer for most of the trip, but one day I noticed one in the temple we were staying at in Nagasaki. At 7 AM it read 85 degrees and probably nearly the same % humidity. By noon, everyday, any clouds had burned off and the sun shone down fiercely.

When the atomic bombs exploded on August 6th and 9th, 1945 they raised the temperature 3000-4,000 degrees for 5 seconds. Five seconds is a long time. Following that was a blast that erupted from the bomb in all directions at nearly 100 mph. Men, women, and children were instantly vaporized. Churches, temples, hospitals, schools, businesses, and houses were blown away. Fires consumed many of the buildings which remained standing. Many who survived were badly burned and died crying for water. The water was contaminated with radioactive dust and most who drank it got sick and died. Having seen the cities and remnants of clothes, watches, tricycles, rosary beads, etc. I still don’t have any idea what that must have been like. So I don’t expect you to understand their experience.

I don’t write this to make us feel bad, or to convince you that dropping the bomb was the right or wrong thing to do. I write this because I met some of the children and young men and women who lived through those days. Such people are called Hibakusha.

In Japan, people are very reserved and would never talk about something so intimate with a stranger, especially someone who’s not Japanese. Hibakusha come to the Peace days and share their stories. I did not get the impression that these people wish America ill (which surprised me). Hibakusha that I met want to share their stories so that the horrible devastation of atomic bombs never has to be experienced by another human being.

In spite of being left without a home, resources, or often even their family members- the Hibakushas' greatest wish is not for revenge but rather for world peace. I can’t do justice to their stories over e-mail. I’d be happy to share with you some of the moving encounters I had.

Once again, I don’t offer this to make you guilty. It is my desire to strive for peace in myself, and speak about peace to anyone interested in discussing it. The Hibakusha are concerned that their message will be forgotten when they have all died. If we forget the tragedy of atomic bombs we are destined to repeat our history. I pray that no man, woman, or child will experience the devastation of atomic bombs again.

Love,
Ryushin

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Having watched with interest the ceremonies and hand-wringing this past week over the dropping of the atomic bombs on Japan, thought it would be useful to provide some perspective and facts. The attached article is very good.

D.

A Sudden Victory
By Williamson Murray

Sixty years ago millions of young Americans were either in the Pacific preparing for Operation OLYMPIC, the long awaited invasion of the Japanese Home Islands, or on their way from the United States and Europe to the huge island bases from which the largest landing operation in history was to occur. On 1 November 1945 nine divisions were to come ashore on the island of Kyushu with no less than 1,300 ships to lend support. An additional division was to land on the smaller islands lying off Kyushu to protect the landing force, while three divisions were to remain on ships waiting to come ashore as the immediate reserve force. Behind them would stand a massive pipeline of divisions and replacement combat troops staging across the Pacific back to the United States. Awaiting them ashore would be at least half-a-million Japanese regular army soldiers, backed by militia mobilized from Kyushu's population, well over 5,000 Kamikaze aircraft and thousands of suicide small boats. Operation OLYMPIC had the prospect of turning into an unimaginable blood bath—especially when one considers the possible collateral casualties among Kyushu's civilian population.

And yet a whole generation of diplomatic and political historians, few of whom know foreign languages or have studied other cultures, have argued that the dropping of the atomic bombs was not necessary; that the Imperial Japanese government was about to surrender; that the United States should have demonstrated the bomb on an isolated piece of terrain before dropping these terrible weapons on populated cities; and that the landings on Kyushu should have gone forward in place of the dropping of the bombs, because American casualties would not have been heavy, especially in comparison to the suffering that encompassed the populations of the doomed cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

The realities of the hard decision-making of spring and early summer 1945 underlines how far removed such critics are from the real world. Their argument that the Japanese government was on the verge of surrendering rests largely on the messages a few courageous members of Japan's foreign office sent to their embassy in Moscow asking that the Soviet government intervene to end the war in the Pacific. The terms that the Japanese foreign office suggested as acceptable would have involved: a retreat from Chinese territory conquered since the "Marco Polo" bridge incident in 1937, but Manchuria and Korea would remain in the Japanese sphere of interest; withdrawal from the conquests in Southeast Asia and the Pacific; a demobilization of the military, but conducted by the Japanese government; no occupation of the Home Islands; and the Japanese government would be in charge of its own war crimes trials. These were even milder terms than the Allies had accorded the Germans in 1919 at Versailles, and everyone in the world in 1945 knew how successful those terms had proved to be. Even the Japanese ambassador in Moscow recognized how far removed from reality such terms were.

But the significant point is that the foreign office diplomats who were suggesting a negotiated peace had virtually no influence over the Japanese government. In summer 1945 the Japanese military leaders were in firm control, and they had no intention of losing their position. As they had displayed throughout the 1930s, Japanese officers were willing to use any means to suppress dissent, including assassination, murder, coups, and concentration camps for those unwilling to go along with a criminal regime, whose behavior from 1937 on had rivaled that of the Germans.

What was it then that kept the Japanese military in the war in the face of the catastrophic defeats they had suffered over the past two years and their current hopeless situation as American ships and aircraft ravaged the Home Islands? Quite simply they hoped the Americans would provide them with the opportunity to die with honor, even if they took the whole of the Japanese nation down to destruction with them. For most Japanese officers, surrender in any form was unacceptable. A few optimists among them believed that their forces could defeat an amphibious assault on Kyushu, or, if not, impose such heavy casualties on the attackers that Japan could achieve "acceptable" peace terms. But most Japanese officers appear not to have considered the political or strategic parameters within which they were acting. To them, their honor and that of the nation were indistinguishable.

The suggestion that the American government should have demonstrated the bomb to the Japanese before its use against populated centers has more merit. A number of American scientists involved in developing these weapons actually suggested such a course at the highest levels of government. Here, the historian possesses almost unlimited time to consider the possibilities. Those making the decisions in 1945 did not. American leaders, civilian as well as military, had over the course of the previous four years been involved in the conduct of a great war in which the fate of the United States and the world had hung in the balance. They had been working twelve hours a day (or more), seven days a week, 365 days a year. With limited time at their disposal, the decision makers only considered the possibility the United States might announce a demonstration, not that it might simply drop the bomb off Tokyo Bay. Here, they confronted the fact that no one, including the scientists, knew whether the bombs were going to work. A flawed demonstration might well rob these new weapons of their psychological impact. And so America's civilian and military leaders decided there would be no demonstration.

The question of casualties that invading Allied troops might have suffered confronts the harsh reality of the terrible killing battles of Iwo Jima and Okinawa. In the first case, 21,000 Japanese defenders inflicted 30,000 casualties (6,000 killed in action) on the attacking Americans. In the second case, the Japanese Thirty-Second Army of 110,000 regular soldiers and auxiliaries inflicted nearly 40,000 casualties on the American Tenth Army—with 26,000 more falling ill from malaria, dysentery, and assorted other diseases. Moreover, Kamikaze pilots inflicted 12,000 casualties (almost 5,000 dead) on the U.S. Navy's surface fleet supporting the invasion. By the end of the fighting on both islands, nearly all the Japanese were dead—with tens of thousands of Okinawan civilians killed or maimed as a result of collateral damage. Both operations set a grim precedent for what would have happened to Japanese and Americans alike had Operation OLYMPIC gone ahead as planned.

The potential casualty figure of 100,000 U.S. casualties for an invasion of Kyushu is bandied about by most of those academics who argue that the United States never needed to drop the bombs. Considering the fact that well over 100,000 Japanese died from the two bombs, the U.S. casualty number does not seem too large for the United States to have suffered instead of dropping the bombs, or so their argument goes. It is of course only in academic terms that most are willing to bandy around such numbers. One wonders how enthusiastic such academics might have been for not dropping the bomb had they been nineteen year-old Marines or soldiers waiting on Okinawa for the invasion to begin. Moreover, one wonders how the American people would have reacted in late 1945 had they discovered that the American president had not dropped the bomb, and U.S. military forces had suffered 100,000 casualties in an invasion?

Given the precedents of Iwo Jima and Okinawa, where then does the estimate come from that an American invading force would have suffered "only" 100,000 casualties in an invasion of Kyushu. The original figure came from MacArthur's headquarters in May 1945, early in the planning processes for the coming invasion. It was the only hard figure to emerge from what was an immensely complex and difficult planning effort that in August 1945 was beginning to move into high gear. At the time of the May estimate, it reflected the fact that the intelligence gained from the breaking of the Japanese high level ciphers—Magic—indicated there were approximately 200,000 Japanese soldiers stationed on Kyushu, with half that number defending the southern beaches. Considering the exchange ratios on Iwo Jima and Okinawa, the estimate made relative sense at that time. And that is the crucial issue, because the intelligence picture of the size of Japanese forces on Kyushu began to undergo a drastic change in the late spring.

To the horror of planners and invasion commanders, Magic indicated in June and July that the Japanese were sending massive reinforcements to Kyushu, from Honshu, Hokkaido, Korea, and elsewhere. By the end of July the number of Japanese troops defending the island had risen to 535,000. Moreover, the identification of two army headquarters in the south—only one in the north—indicated the Japanese expected the invasion to come at the exact place where American planners had targeted the amphibious landings to occur. As the Japanese deployed their ground forces to meet the Americans in southern Kyushu, they moved the deployment of their Kamikazes toward the same area. As one of the foremost historians of the Pacific War, Edward J. Drea, described the situation by the end of July: "From the U.S. point of view, the odds were swinging against them: the defenders would soon equal or outnumber the attackers. This was, as [MacArthur's chief of intelligence, Major General Charles A.] Willoughby candidly put it, 'hardly a recipe for success.'" 1

There was another alternative to invasion and the bombs, which the Americans had not yet fully examined, but which might well have been chosen, given the threat Japanese preparations on Kyushu were presenting: blockade. Richard Frank, in his outstanding book on Japan's surrender, argues that Admiral Chester Nimitz, CINCPAC, was about to raise with Admiral Ernest King, the CNO, the possibility of canceling the invasion and executing a blockade of the Home Islands. 2 In such a case, the conventional bombing of Japan would have undoubtedly continued. Such a strategy would have certainly reduced substantially the numbers of casualties that U.S. forces might have suffered.

On the surface a blockade, as opposed to an invasion, appears to have a certain attractiveness, given the casualties that the latter might have caused. What that argument misses is what a blockade and a continuation of the strategic bombing offensive would have done to the Japanese people. By August 1945 the B-29s were almost out of cities to ravage. Air planners, however, were developing a new set of targets based on the success of Allied bombing efforts in the European Theater of Operations: namely Japan's rather primitive transportation network. The aim would have been to take out the rail and road network as Allied tactical and strategic bombing attacks in spring 1944 had done in northern France. There is no doubt that such a campaign would have quickly succeeded. And the results would have been catastrophic for the Japanese people, who were at that time hovering on the brink of mass starvation. The destruction of the transportation network would have made the distribution of foodstuffs throughout the Home Islands impossible, even had Japan surrendered in the fall. As it was, when the Americans arrived in Japan in August 1945, they were barely able to avoid mass starvation throughout the country, even though they assumed control of the transportation network in largely undamaged conditions. How many would have starved to death or died of disease is impossible to estimate, but the numbers could easily have been in the millions, far more than the numbers of Japanese who died as a result of the Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

There is one other unintended effect that the dropping of the atomic bombs conferred on mankind. By the early to mid-1950s the terrible secondary effects of the bombs' radiation, innumerable cancers and other diseases, had become clear to scientists and doctors. Their reports worked into the consciousness of those responsible for the conduct of the Cold War on both sides of the Iron Curtain, and that knowledge undoubtedly affected how the opposing sides considered the potential use of nuclear weapons. The fact that the even more terrifying descendants of the bombs used on Japan were never used in the Cold War may well reflect the knowledge gained from the impact of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

With the perspective of 60 years, we can see far more clearly that the terrible events that happened in the skies over Japan in August 1945 prevented even more terrible events from occurring during the Cold War. Harry Truman, an American president who had confronted personally the horrors of ground combat, faced up to his responsibilities to the servicemen and women under his command and ordered the bombs dropped. By so doing he ended the Second World War and prevented an even more horrific chapter from having been written. As Harry Truman so simply stated about his presidency: "The buck stops here."

Edward J. Drea, "Previews of Hell," Military History Quarterly , Spring 1995, p. 78. back to article
Richard B. Frank, Downfall, The End of the Imperial Japanese Empire (New York, 1999), p. 276. back to article
Dr. Murray, senior fellow at the Institute for Defense Analyses and professor emeritus of history at the Ohio State University, is the author or co-author of numerous works, including A War to Be Won: Fighting the Second World War (Harvard University Press, 2000).

Ryushin Recounts Day 1 of the Pilgrimage

This is from a group e-mail that Ryushin Creedon, a Great Vow Zen Monastery resident and postulant (priest candidate) wrote to family and friends following the Jizos for Peace pilgrimage.

Dear Folks,

Okay, so I’ve just ended one of the longest months of my life. Maybe you don’t believe that time can be longer or shorter. I say time at least seems to go longer if you are in a difficult or boring situation (for most people organic chemistry or surgery would do as a good example).

For those who had no idea what has been going on, I went to Japan! I was there for two weeks. I went with about 35 other folks from the US (mostly Oregon), Canada, and Germany. We went in remembrance of the 60th anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We brought with us approximately 500,000 images of Jizo Bodhisattva which we had received from around the world (including Germany, South Africa, Brazil, Australia, El Salvador (thanks Kelly), and many more.

This project stemmed from Chozen’s desire to bring 60 Jizos to Hiroshima and Nagasaki on the 60th anniversary (60 being a prominent year in Asian cultures). She was born on the day the atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, and so her connection to the bombing runs deep. Kaz Tanahashi, a famous calligrapher and peace activist, thought the project was wonderful, and that she should bring 1 Jizo for every person who died in those cities within the first year after the bombing. That was 270,000 people! Kaz suggested that they copy Jizos onto cloth the way that some Japanese people copy the Heart Sutra (one of the most fundamental Buddhist texts), and bring the cloth Jizo panels to Japan. Needless to say it worked.
Why Jizo? Jizo is a prominent figure in Japan. He is seen as the protector of women, children, and travelers. Jizo helps those on the spiritual as well as the physical realm of existence. Chozen, being a pediatrician and child abuse researcher, has trusted in Jizos power to heal emotional pain for a long time. Through making panels, many people expressed that their anger about WWII, the bombings, or war in general began to dissipate.

Anyway, so we had all these Jizos and on July 29th we headed off for Japan! We had a “sweatshop night” two nights before we left, to get all the panels sewn into prayer flags and get nice ribbon borders on for handing out. The night before we left Chozen realized (at 10 pm, mind you) that we didn’t have anything large with the name of the project on it. SO, Chozen and Jogen went to work making a banner. It took them about three hours to make, and then they had to leave it with a fan on to dry the paint (we were leaving at 4 in the morning).

I was up all night sewing. I had been sewing jubans (formal undershirts) for various people, and making one for myself. I was sewing samu-gi (zen duds) out of light weight material for what we heard was a hot and humid climate in Japan. I finished around 2am. I considered going to sleep, but I realized that I would be even more tired and that there would be time on the plane to sleep (approximate travel time = twenty four hours!). Instead of sleeping, I made muffins for those departing and the three folks who would be staying at Great Vow Monastery to tend to all it’s needs (including our 22 year old mutt, Mickey).

4 am came, and people stumbled out with bags and suitcases. Chozen and Hogen were busy doing the last minute packing thing. Jihiken (our coordinator) had told us to be at the airport by no later than 5:45. If you subtract the hour and ten minutes it takes to get to the airport, we needed to leave at 4:35am. 4:15 and no sign of Chozen or Hogen. Shugetsu, Rob, and I decided that, rather than stand around, we would do a grand send off. 108 is a prominent number in Buddhism. In honor of the trip, we hit the large bell and taiko drum in the hallway alternately 108 times. Meanwhile, Rob offered incense in the zendo and performed 108 bows. We left at about 4:40, a timely departure by most monastery standards.

When we got to the airport we began to collect our pilgrims. We got our e-tickets and headed for a little breakfast before our flight. Energy was high for most in the group. Our first stop was San Francisco. We arrived and got a quick bite to eat. Some people exchanged their money before finding out that the exchange rate is better in Japan. Such is life.

I should mention that we received a little booklet (carefully constructed by Jihiken) giving us lots of information about helpful phrases, food items, and the like. On the front cover, in big friendly letters, were the words: Don’t Panic.

Just inside the cover was a message from Hogen about the mind of a pilgrim. Essentially he said that once we set out on a journey as a pilgrim, our job is accept everything that comes to us with appreciation. He stated that we would most likely encounter problems with money, weather, illness, etc. However, if we didn’t complain about it internally and externally, there wouldn’t be a problem. I was one of the people who exchanged their money in San Francisco. Hogen told me that I didn’t get as good a deal on exchanging and I took a moment to be bummed before realizing that it was too late to do anything.

Onward we went to more adventures.

We picked up some more pilgrims in San Francisco. Namely, Tova Green, a priest from Green Gulch Farm, Daigaku…something, an American priest who has trained in Japan for about fifteen years, and Yuji-san, a Japanese priest who trained in Japan and is living and working in San Francisco. Daigaku and Yuji-san came along primarily as translators and to ensure that we didn’t lose too many pilgrims in the midst of our travels.

If you’ve never been on a plane to Japan…woah baby. They treat you like a king or queen. You can watch video footage of what you’re flying over (for us it was mostly clouds), get a full vegetarian meal and hearty snack, play video games (Super Mario 1, 2, and 3!) or watch movies on your personal television, and much more. Given that we were in the air for about twelve hours it was helpful have a number of things to do. I ended up making use of only a small number of these fun distractions, as I was quite tired. I did have a lovely chat with Tsarra (a Portlander, school teacher, Sangha member, friend, etc.) which was the first of many wonderful conversations I had with people during this trip.

When we arrived it felt like coming back to life after hibernation. My sandals no longer fit, on account of the blood accumulated in my feet. In general I felt slightly drugged. We landed in Narita, Tokyo, and we had to deboard and go through customs. I had taken it upon myself to tend to the largest trunk that we had (since my trip was paid for, I felt like part of my way of returning the favor was to be pack-mule). So, I brought my suitcase and this enormous trunk up to the Customs officer. He politely asked if he could see inside my trunk. I knew this would be interesting. I got it up on the table okay and popped the latches. His eyes boggled when he saw all the colorful Jizo quilts neatly packed into the trunk. “Jizo-sama,” I said. He nodded. I smiled. He said I could go. I proceeded to breathe.

We were waiting for our flight to Osaka, so I decided to give people their first cultural experience. Green tea ice cream is amazing, and you can get it virtually anywhere in Japan. I bought a Haggan Daz Green Tea Bar and gave about 15 people a biteful. Ahhhh. On to Osaka, where we got a bus to drive us to the Hanazono Kaikan at the South end of Myoshin-ji (one of the large training temples) in Kyoto. All told, about 24 hours of travel. We met up with our Canadian and German pilgrims,our videographers, and Kaz Tanahashi. Jogen, Rob, Michael O’Neill (one of the other videographers (we had two sets!) and myself shared a room together. The room was barely large enough for our bags and some futons for sleeping, but it was like heaven.

The Kaikan only had Japanese style baths. I explained this phenomena the last time I wrote about Japan, but it’s worth repeating. So, you go into the bath area (where everyone takes baths together) and there’s an area to shave, brush your teeth, and leave your cloths outside of the main bath area. You go in with a towel. Inside it’s slightly steamy, a good heat. You go up to one of the stools and sit on down. There’s a shower nozzle and some soap for scrubbing off any dirt. When you are completely clean you can get into the bath. The “bath tub” is big enough for twenty guys to fit comfortably. Though it is large, it is not deep, about waist height. The room is slightly steamy because the bath is hot, about eighty or ninety degrees. Some baths are extremely hot, and the Japanese like it hot. You can rest your head on your wash cloth, place it on your face to soak up sweat, or put it to the side altogether. You soak and let the stress of the day dissipate. Ahhh, bath time. This was one of my favorite parts of Japan.

Thus ended the first day.

Pilgrimage in brief

Dear friends,

Well, we are all back safe and sound in our various countries and homes. What an incredible experience to be able to go on pilgrimage together. The following is an overview of the trip, written by yours truly. May this find you well and happy,
Love,
yuko.

This August 35 western Buddhists from the United States, Canada and Germany traveled to Japan on pilgrimage for the sixtieth anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The pilgrimage was the culmination of an over two-year effort to gather 270,000 images of Jizo Bodhisattva to bring to Japan as a peace offering. The images of Jizo, many of which were drawn of cloth and sewn into quilts and peace flags, were contributed by people from every state within the US and from many countries of the world, and each continent. By the time the pilgrims left on their journey, the number of Jizos totaled nearly 500,000.

The pilgrimage, organized and led by Jan Chozen Bays, Hogen Bays and Kaz Tanahashi among others, began with the travelers assembling in Kyoto. The days in Kyoto were spent visiting temples, shrines and other sacred sites. As western Zen practitioners it was meaningful to see the ancient roots of the practice we share with our brothers and sisters across the water. The profound grace of Kyoto with its countless temples and bright bustling downtown full of shrines tucked into every corner set a tone for the rest of the trip which lasted throughout.

From Kyoto we followed the heat and humidity southward to Hiroshima. There we were kindly received as guests at Zensho-ji. Staying at a family temple was an experience that allowed us to take part in a life we would never have been able to know otherwise. Many pilgrims realized that most who visit Japan may only see the outside of a temple, but that given the nature of our trip, we were allowed into the workings of daily temple life – the bells, samu period, simple and delicious oriyoki meals. We were grateful for this during the whole pilgrimage.

In Hiroshima, the Peace Park and museum were spots of pilgrimage. Although many of us had prepared for this trip by studying the history of the bombings, the war and its aftermath, there was no way to prepare ourselves for the effect of actually being at the site of the devastating bomb. In the peace museum there are cases of objects belonging to victims of the bomb: shreds of clothing, book satchels with holes burned through them, lunch boxes of children seared black. Somehow seeing these items and then walking outside to the actual place that witnessed and suffered under the bomb silenced our hearts and brought the reality of why we were there to life.

The Annual Hiroshima Peace Day was a large gathering of individuals and various groups championing the peace cause. There was a “die-in” at the time the bomb was detonated, where everyone dropped to the ground from where they stood. In the evening countless paper lanterns were sent down the river by the park, and on each lantern was written a prayer for peace.

After continuing on to Nagasaki by train, the group of us visited more sites of pilgrimage, and attended the Peace Day in Nagasaki Peace Park. The Jizos for Peace Project had a presence at most of the day’s activities, ranging from interfaith religious ceremonies to a colorful peace parade in downtown Nagasaki.

One of the most important aspects of the pilgrimage was that of personal connection. We were able to meet with hibaksha in senior homes as well as on the peace days, friendships were forged between the western pilgrims and our excellent companions/guides from the Soto-shu, and everyone returned home with memories of brief, strong encounters with people everywhere we went. The common desire for peace in the world transcends language, age and nationality. This was apparent on our pilgrimage, where people from many different backgrounds were able to connect with one another in the common goals of practice, and peace.

The Jizos for Peace pilgrimage was an honor to take part in. At our last group meeting before returning home, we acknowledged that much of the processing of this trip will happen over time. The spirit of pilgrimage is one of open-handedness – open hands for giving, and for receiving. The effects of what we attempt to give to the world can never be known, but the gifts of kindness, insight and peace which we received from so many people during our time in Japan are shining jewels which have been brought back with us to our distant homes.

Link to Zen Retreat and Witnessing at Los Alamos

The following link is to a photo essay recording an Upaya Zen Center Retreat held at Los Alamos in memory of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, spanning the 60th anniversary dates. Click on the photos themselves to move through the album.

http://www.zencommunity.org/html/Los%20Alamos/la1.html?p=0

The Prize-- and Price-- of Battle

I was very touched to find this personal essay, written by a member of Eugene Zendo-- Butsugen-ji, Buddha Eye Temple--located in Eugene, Oregon. Abbot Ejo Patrick McMullen, who studied and lived in Japan, has provided great insight and assistance throughout the Jizos For Peace Project.

About the photos at the end of the piece: I found them online, and today of all days, they tear at my heart in several ways. On Hiroshima Day, 2005, it seems fitting to recall events that preceeded the dropping of the atomic bomb, including the ferocious battles of World War II, and their great human cost.

This peace speaks for itself, but I want to reflect its message: that warfare destroys human lives and leaves scars that endure across generations; and that we can engage in concrete action to foster reconciliation and healing.

The Jizos for Peace Pilgrims are carrying this intention for all of us, along with banners, flags, and many gifts made by individuals and groups all over the world. Some of these offerings, as you will read, are particularly poignant.

With a deep bow,

Shugetsu


The Bundle

I don't remember when I first saw the bundle of objects my step-father took from dead Japanese soldiers he killed in the battle of Attu Island. I do remember his long recovery from multiple shrapnel wounds, his recurring nightmares , hisanger and his hardness. Sometime in my growing up, he talked about his experiences, not only of the battle itself, but the American military mistakes that caused many deaths in his unit and the ghastly conditions on the hospital ship where the wounded continued to die before reaching San Francisco.

He began to soften as he became increasingly involved with my children. He once told me that being a grandfather was the most gratifying experience of his life. As the Vietnam War continued he came to oppose violence and was determined that none of his grandsons would ever go to war.

Towards the end of his life he became preoccupied with his war experiences. We had long talks which resulted in him crying about his responsibility for the Japanese soldiers he had killed. As he got closer to his own death his grief seemed to intensify. We attempted to convince him that as a young man, in that time and place, he had little choice.

Sorting his room after his death I was relieved to not find the bundle, however, my son found it in the garage rafters. We were in a quandary as to what to do with these objects. I always felt such sorrow looking at them: a large Japanese flag, a small personal flag with blood stains. a picture of a tiger printed on silk. Photographs: a wife , a family, a man in uniform; leather cases with writing in them, white dress gloves and a small folded brocaded card with an inscription inside.

During Ango, while working on the Jizos for peace project, it occurred to me to ask Ejo if he could return these things to Japan in a way that was appropriate. I talked to him and he agreed. My son, Robert, brought the bundle when he came for Jukai. We as a family, looked at everything one last time and read the story of the battle from his home town newspaper. Recently I met with Ejo and talked to him about the life of Robert McAmis. After examining everything in the bundle, Ejo translated the inscription in the brocaded card: "Namu Amida Butsu."

Gassho,
Jun-e

WORLD WAR II IMPERIAL JAPANESE ARMY INDIVIDUAL SOLDIER'S BATTLE FLAG: the type of flag as presented by loved ones and friends to the soldier departing for the battle theater.



US Marines display captured Japanese battle flags on Iwo Jima 1945.