Remembering the People
Jerome Novotny , OMI –Today, as we remember Nagasaki, I do not want simply to speak about an event in history. I want us to remember people – fathers and mothers, children and grandparents, students and workers, priests and religious sisters – whose lives were suddenly destroyed on August 9, 1945.
As a Catholic priest who has lived and served in Japan for 61 years, I have come to understand that Nagasaki is not simply a place on a map. Nagasaki is a sacred place of memory. It is a place where the history of Japan, the history of the Catholic Church, and the tragedy of war come together.
Nagasaki and the Catholic Church
Nagasaki has a particularly deep meaning for Catholics. For centuries, Japanese Christians endured persecution and gave their lives rather than abandon their faith. The Catholic community survived secretly and eventually emerged openly. Urakami became one of the great centers of Catholic life in Japan.
And then, on that terrible morning in 1945, the atomic bomb exploded over Nagasaki. Many Catholics were gathered in or near Urakami Cathedral. Among them were people preparing for confession. The cathedral was destroyed, and many of those present were killed.
When I think about this, I am reminded that history is “not made up of numbers.” Behind every number there was a human being created in the image of God. Every person who died had a name. Someone loved them. Someone was waiting for them to come home.
The Human Cost of War
Remembering these individual lives is where our Christian response to Nagasaki must begin – with prayer, compassion, and respect for every person who suffered and died.
We must also resist the temptation to let Nagasaki become merely a political argument. Historians will continue to debate the military and political decisions of 1945. But before we discuss strategy, we must remember the human cost. The Gospel tells us that every human life has an incomparable value. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.”
These words are especially important today. The terrible lesson of Nagasaki is not only that nuclear weapons are powerful. It is that human beings have developed the ability to destroy one another on an unimaginable scale.
And yet, 81 years later, the world still possesses nuclear weapons. As Christians, we cannot become accustomed to this reality. We cannot simply say, “That is the way the world is.” Our faith calls us to believe that another way is possible.
The Cross and the Rejection of Hatred
The Cross of Christ teaches us something very different from the logic of violence. Jesus himself became the victim of violence, but he did not answer violence with hatred. From the Cross, he prayed for those who were responsible for his death. This does not mean that we ignore evil or injustice. It means that we refuse to allow hatred to have the final word.
This is one of the most difficult lessons of Nagasaki. The survivors could have responded with hatred. They had every human reason to do so. Yet many chose instead to speak about peace and reconciliation. Their witness challenges us.
Peace Begins With Us
As a missionary priest, I believe that remembering Nagasaki must change the way we live today. Peace does not begin only in meetings between governments. Peace begins in the human heart. It begins in our families, our communities, our places of worship, and our relationships with people who are different from us.
Every time we refuse to hate another person, we take a small step toward peace. Every time we forgive, we take a step toward peace. Every time we listen instead of condemning, we take a step toward peace. And every time we recognize another person as a child of God, we take a step toward peace.
From Prayer to Commitment
Today, therefore, I remember the people of Nagasaki with profound sorrow and prayer. I pray for those who died. I pray for the survivors who carried their painful memories for many years. I pray for the families who lost loved ones. I pray for the people of Nagasaki who rebuilt their city and their lives from destruction that words can hardly describe. And I pray for the leaders of the nations that possess nuclear weapons.
But our prayers must also become a commitment. We must teach the next generation what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We must listen to the testimony of survivors while their voices are still with us. We must work for reconciliation among nations and support every sincere effort to reduce and ultimately eliminate nuclear weapons.
“Never Again”
Nagasaki must never become only a memory of the past. It must become a warning for the future. Eighty-one years later, the message remains simple: Never again.
Never again should human beings be regarded as expendable.
Never again should the destruction of whole cities be accepted as an ordinary solution to human disagreements.
Never again should hatred be stronger than our recognition of the dignity of every human person.
Conclusion: Faith, Hope, Love
As Catholics, we have a special reason to remember Nagasaki. The blood of martyrs was already part of this city’s history before the atomic bomb. The suffering of Nagasaki, therefore, speaks to us about the Cross but also about hope. Buildings can be destroyed. Cities can be destroyed. Human bodies can be destroyed. But faith, love, forgiveness, and hope can rise again. On this 81st anniversary, may we stand in spirit with the people of Nagasaki.
- May we remember the dead.
- May we listen to the survivors.
- May we reject hatred.
- May we defend the dignity of every human life.
- And may we become, in our own small ways, the peacemakers whom Jesus calls children of God.
On this anniversary, may our prayer rise from Nagasaki to the whole world:
Lord, make us instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let us bring love.
Where there is fear, let us bring hope.
Where there is violence, let us seek reconciliation.
And where human life is threatened, give us the courage to defend its dignity.
(August 9, 1945) – May the souls of all who died in Nagasaki rest in the peace of God. And may their memory lead us – not to hatred, but to a world without war and without nuclear weapons.
