I feel blessed to have grown up in an extraordinarily beautiful place — a place of breathtaking views, of coyotes and lizards, of fresh mountain air, and of dark starry nights.  Yet my hometown is also the site where once-unimaginable forces of destruction were unleashed by human beings.  My hometown is Los Alamos, New Mexico, the town high in the Rocky Mountains where a team of scientists, as part of the top secret Manhattan Project of the United States government, designed the bombs that ushered in the nuclear age in 1945.

As a child in Los Alamos, I heard adults speak with pride about how “we saved a million American lives by dropping the bombs on Japan.”   When a study group attempted to raise awareness of a cluster of brain tumors in an area of town near the weapons laboratory (which, by they way, is not referred to in town as a weapons laboratory, and rather simply as “the lab”), they were immediately discredited.   When I was in high school, there was an international competition to design a peace memorial, and the winning entry was a proposal to create a peace garden in the center of Los Alamos.  The Los Alamos County Council rejected the proposal.  Town leaders would not allow Los Alamos to become a destination for peace activists.   When I returned to Los Alamos as a college student and worked at the lab over the summer, I had the opportunity to meet with the lab director for lunch.  There was an unspoken rule in town that one does not question what the lab does, and when I asked the director about the environmental impact of nuclear testing, without missing a beat, he told me that there was no evidence of environmental damage.  At the time, I did not have the courage to challenge him.  I wonder what would have happened if I had.

Denying (or might we say, lying) about the environmental impact of the work?

Rejecting a peace garden?

Discrediting public health observations?

Celebrating the exploding of powerful bombs on significant civilian populations, claiming that they saved lives?

There was something terribly wrong with this picture.  As a child, I did not have words for what was wrong, although I felt it in my body as stomach pains and a sense of dread for the world. When I was in second grade, I invented an imaginary “everything machine” which I would climb into to keep me safe at night.

I don’t recall ever discussing the destructive capacity of nuclear weapons during my childhood; however, I do recall a special visit from former laboratory director Norris Bradbury to our eighth grade class for gifted students.   Norris picked up a a piece of chalk and drew a diagram of a hydrogen bomb for us on the blackboard. He was sharing a little science and history for our curious minds. The fact that an island was blown up to test the hydrogen bomb, an even more destructive version of a bomb than the ones originally dropped on Japan, was never mentioned.  We did not discuss or debate the ethics of continuing to produce new nuclear weapons. We did discuss the implications on jobs in town as the Cold War came to an end.

When Donald Trump was president, there was a yard sign in my neighborhood that read, “Make America Truthful Again.”  This sign deeply unsettled me.  While I was greatly concerned about this choice of president, who was known for his flagrant dishonesty and manipulations, the yard sign seemed to suggest that before Trump, the United States was ruled by truthfulness.  Yet denial of truth runs deep in our culture.  And by denying truth, we avoid taking responsibility and cut off the essence of our humanity.

I love the teaching from Jewish tradition that teshuvah, the capacity of human beings to turn towards the good, is woven into the very fabric of creation. Human beings have the capacity for good and for evil and we have the ability to renew ourselves and seek forgiveness and turn towards the good.  Yet the capacity to turn towards the good requires telling the truth — actively and openly recognizing the harm we have done so that we can make amends.  As far as I know, the government of the United States has never formally apologized or sought to make amends for the destruction caused by the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.  By failing to do so, the US has cut off a path to healing and peace.  Last summer, during the 2021 Olympic Games in Tokyo, the mayor of Hiroshima, Kazumi Matsui, requested that the games observe a moment of silence on August 6 at 8:15AM, the time when the United States dropped the first bomb, to join in spirit with the peace memorial happening in Hiroshima.  This request was denied by the International Olympic Committee.

Rejecting a moment of silence?

Our collective future and survival depends on restoring truth-telling to the public sphere. It is time to join Hiroshima in a moment of silence. It is time to tell the truth about nuclear weapons, about human-generated climate destruction, about guns, about racism, about misogyny, and about so many other forms of violence that humans commit against other humans.  As a person of faith and hope, I believe that we human beings are here on earth to learn to love one another.  We can only truly love one another when we are relating to each other with honesty and uprightness.  It is time to make America truthful and to empower leaders who are true servants of the common good. Our future depends on this transformation.

I offer three invitations:

1. To observe a moment of silence with the people of Hiroshima at 8:15AM Hiroshima time on August 6 (7:15PM ET on Friday, August 5), the 77th anniversary of when the United States bombed Hiroshima. Consider bringing together neighbors to step outside and observe the moment of silence together, followed by truth telling and deep listening, addressing the questions: “What are ways that the United States has caused harm by producing and using nuclear weapons? What is our collective responsibility?”  The organization, Voices for a World Free of Nuclear Weapons, has declared August 6 as Nuclear Prayer Day and is sponsoring online events on August 5-6. You can find out more at this link. Note that Tisha B’Av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, which commemorates the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem, coincides this year with Hiroshima Day. Because August 6 is a Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, Tisha B’Av is observed starting after sundown on August 6 through sundown on August 7. Among the observances for this fast day is reading the Biblical book of Lamentations. Consider reading Lamentations with the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in mind.

2. To spend time alone outside, opening your senses to experience beauty and listening for the truths springing forth from the earth. Speak aloud to the Earth and ask forgiveness for the ways that human beings have caused harm. If you cannot get outside, use your imagination to connect to the Earth, to invite her nurture, and to listen for her truths. I also recommend listening to music that inspires and nurtures your relationship with Mother Earth. Here is the link to a beautiful Hebrew chant by Gayanne Geurin based on the phrase from Psalm 85, “Truth springs forth from the earth/ emet me’eretz titzmach.”

3. To start wearing a piece of sackcloth pinned to your clothing. In the Bible, sackcloth is worn at times of impending doom, a symbolic act to inspire turning away from violence towards wholeness. For more information, see my blogpost about the Sackcloth Project at thrivingspirit.org.