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First Congregational Church of Evanston
August 5, 2007 (Tenth Sunday after Pentecost)
Hosea 11:1-11

Hiroshima Sunday 

Some people faithfully remember Hiroshima Day, the day the first Atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, Japan.   

Some may still consider it a day of rejoicing – because they remember that bomb brought World War II nearer to its end.  It is a day to remember that world leaders have vowed never to use the bomb again, to remember childhood fears that someone was going to drop an Atomic bomb on us.  But for many those fears have been replaced by a more general willingness to just live with the ambiguity and to assume that it will never be used again.  And yet, our country has huge stockpiles of Atomic bombs – more than enough to annihilate all life on earth. 

Perhaps the bomb was an effective implement of war, but few people of conscience hold that the bomb was a good thing.  Observing the immediate death of so many innocent civilian human beings and the lingering death of so many more irradiated, aversion to the atomic bomb is almost universal. 

Sadako’s Story -- Folding Cranes

I was just a toddler when the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima – 2 years old – just the age of a little girl named Sadako Sasaki. But she was living in Hiroshima, and I was in the mid-western United States.  I didn’t really learn of the Atomic Bomb until I was much older, but Sadako learned of it that day. She was exposed to the radiation that came through the walls of her home. 

A number of years later, when Sadako was 11, she collapsed while running a race.  She was diagnosed with leukemia, the terrifying cancer of the blood.  At age 11, what did Sadako really understand about her disease?  We can only imagine how she felt.  It might have been anger, fear, helplessness or hopelessness. Her own death must have been much too frightening and overwhelming for her to really contemplate.  But slowly she got the truth, and slowly a way to deal with her death came, too. 

According to a Japanese tradition, a wish would come true if one would fold 1000 paper origami cranes. Sadako had a wish for world peace, and so she started folding cranes. She found that focusing on the precise folds helped to distract her from the awareness of time. This also eased the feeling of frustration and boredom, and it gave her hope and meaning.  Natural negative feelings were replaced with positive.  

Through trial and error, she found the size of paper most suitable for her to handle. She completed one crane after another, saying, "I can do something to help. I am in control." She had found a purpose in life both for her own health and for world peace.  Making cranes was her diversion from pain. Eventually at the tender age of 11, she died in her sleep.  But folding cranes for world peace had brought calmness for her final journey.  She did not have the strength to fold 1000 cranes, she completed 644.   

Sadako’s friends helped to make up the 1000 cranes for her funeral. But Sadako’s example generated a new tradition, and her dream of making 1000 cranes became a symbol for world peace.  Today a monument stands in the Hiroshima Peace Park.  And every year on or about August 6th, people make cranes to remind us all of the love and dedication of one of the young victims of the atomic Bomb.  (Adapted from an anonymous source) 

When the story of Sadako is so moving – and we all know that the atomic bombs are so dangerous – why do the nations of the earth, and especially ours, still stockpile atomic weapons?  Many people ask that question. It is our role as follower of Christ to ask that very question.  How do we pray for world peace?  What will we do for disarmament?  How will we pray, ‘thy Kingdom come, thy will be done?’ 

Any Child with Cancer

Sadako is an one of many, many children who suffered from the nuclear holocaust – she suffered cancer.  God loved Sadako as God loves all children.  We can imagine God lifting up Sadako to God’s cheek in love, just as Hosea wrote.  Even we human beings who observe a suffering child are affected.   I want to share with you a story told by an adult who was being treated for cancer at the beginning of this year: 

I was sitting in the radiation waiting room ... It was crowded. The computers had crashed earlier and everything was running way behind schedule. Everyone else there seemed to know one another; they had been getting the treatments for a while. I was the new guy, but was immediately welcomed into that instant community of cancer patients. Everyone there was older. At 51, I was one of the younger patients. 

And then one of the men said, "There's a child in there." The big lead door had opened and he could see into the treatment room. Immediately, everything changed. The room got sort of quiet; people even lowered their voices. This was something terrible. Everyone in that room was fighting his/her own battle. One man had said that the treatment seemed to be working for him -- his tumors were shrinking. Another woman didn't know yet -- she still had about 20 sessions to go. But all of that was quickly forgotten when someone announced,  "There's a child in there." 

Sure enough, the door opened, and a bed was wheeled out. Lying there, apparently knocked out by anesthesia, was a young boy, probably about 7 or 8, certainly no older than 10. He was bald, probably from chemo. He was clearly very sick. 

We all watched in silence as he was wheeled away. I can't imagine the agony his parents must feel. I can't imagine the agony he must feel. And then the man next to me said, "It's not right. We've all had long lives. That's not right." 

You have to wonder what the future holds for that little boy. Will he survive long enough to learn to drive? Feel his first crush? Have his first kiss? Will he get to grow up? I don't know. I probably never will. But that man was dead-on. It's not right.(Edited from Leroy Sievers, "My Cancer" blog entry of January 3, 2007, quoted in the Immediate Word at www.csspub.com) 

Moved by Children 

We are moved by the suffering of children. Actually, we are moved by any children –   whether they are sick or well – whether they are loveable or trying, people love children.  People are especially fond of their own children.  And so we can understand the image of God’s tender love to people that Hosea paints for us.  Just as we are moved by Sadako’s story or the child in the cancer treatment, we know that God is moved in love by all of God’s children.  Hosea reminds us that God’s relationship to Israel is like the parent of a wayward child. And isn’t that God’s relationship to us all? 

The prophecy of Hosea begins with a different metaphor than that of parent and child.  It begins with the metaphor or God as husband and Israel as unfaithful wife.  That image is vividly portrayed by the prophet’s marrying the prostitute Gomer, but weeping for her unfaithfulness. 

Then comes the  message of God’s judgement.  But judgement takes a turn in the 11th chapter and “now melts into a pool of divine compassion. Yahweh's judging fist unclenches to open out toward the beloved children with the imploring love of a rejected parent. So clearly does Hosea present the breadth of Yahweh's love and the depth of God's commitment in this single chapter that it has been called by some the John 3:16 of the Old Testament." (Quoted from www.HomeliticsOnline.com . See The Wesleyan Bible Commentary [Grand Rapids, Mich.: William B. Eerdman's Publishing Company, 1969], III, 583.) 

Yes, the people turn away from God, but God pleads with them “I was to [you] like those who lift infants to their cheeks. I bent down to them and fed [you].”  This God of care and compassion is the same God who loves the world enough to send Jesus into the world that the world might be saved and not condemned.  

Conclusion

This is the God who takes little Sadako in arms and loves her enough to give her strength to make origami cranes for World Peace.  This is the God who takes all children who suffer from disease and holds them to Godself. 

This is the God who takes nations and rulers up in God’s arms in love, even nations who stockpile nuclear weapons – who would solve the worlds problems with military might.  This is the God who lifts to God’s cheek in love even the President of the United States and leaders of other nations.  This is the God who reminds them that God taught them to walk.  God loves and weeps for the wayward children. 

This is the God who loves children – this is the God who loves us all as God’s children.  This is the God we worship today and whose presence we know in the celebration of the Holy Supper.  

Praise be to God.  

Amen.