Sts. Paul Miki and Companions

The story of Saint Paul Miki and his companions is a testament to the universal reach of the Gospel and the indomitable spirit of the Japanese people. It begins in the wake of the Great Apostle of the Indies, Saint Francis Xavier, whose arrival in Japan sparked a wildfire of faith across the archipelago. Among those caught in this holy blaze was a young man of noble birth, Paul Miki. Born in Tazaemon, near Osaka, Paul was baptized at the age of five and educated by the Jesuits. He did not merely adopt a foreign creed; he integrated the teachings of Christ into the very fabric of his Japanese identity, eventually entering the Society of Jesus as a scholastic. He became a famed preacher, known for his ability to dialogue with Buddhist monks and commoners alike, his voice a clarion call to the beauty of the Kingdom of Heaven. By the final decade of the sixteenth century, the Church in Japan was a miracle of grace, boasting over two hundred thousand faithful. Yet, the shadows of suspicion were lengthening. The shogun Toyotomi Hideyoshi, once indifferent or even friendly to the Christians, grew wary of European colonial expansion. When a Spanish ship, the San Felipe, ran aground, a series of misunderstandings and bravado by the sailors led Hideyoshi to believe that the missionaries were spies preparing for a conquest. In a sudden, violent shift of policy, he ordered the arrest of the leading Christians in the capital region. Paul Miki was apprehended alongside two fellow Japanese Jesuits, six Spanish and Portuguese Franciscans, and seventeen Japanese laymen. Among this noble company were three young boys—Louis Ibaraki, age twelve; Anthony of Nagasaki, age thirteen; and Thomas Kozaki, age fourteen. Their journey to martyrdom was not a swift blow, but a long, agonizing pilgrimage. To humiliate them and terrify the populace, Hideyoshi ordered that a portion of their left ears be cut off, and they were paraded through the snow-covered streets of Kyoto, Osaka, and Sakai. Yet, the intended humiliation turned into a magnificent display of Christian joy. The martyrs sang hymns and prayed the Rosary, their faces radiating a peace that confounded their captors. The young Louis Ibaraki, when offered his life if he would renounce his faith, replied with a wisdom far beyond his years: "I do not want to live on such terms, for the life you offer is temporary, and the life I seek is eternal." The final stage of their journey was a grueling four-hundred-mile march to Nagasaki, the city that had become the heart of Japanese Christianity. On February 5, 1597, they reached the hill of Nishizaka. Twenty-six crosses were lined up, overlooking the sea. As they were bound to the wood with iron rings and ropes, the martyrs did not weep. Instead, they began to sing the Te Deum, the Church’s great hymn of praise. Paul Miki, hanging from his cross, used his final strength to address the crowd. He spoke not of grievance, but of gratitude and forgiveness. He declared his loyalty to Japan but his ultimate allegiance to the King of Kings. He publicly forgave Hideyoshi and all who had taken part in their death, mirroring the mercy of Christ on Calvary. Finally, two executioners ran each martyr through with spears, their blood staining the soil of Japan and sealing the faith of its people. The site of their execution, once a place of execution for criminals, became a "Holy Mountain," a place of pilgrimage where the memory of their courage would sustain the Japanese Church through two and a half centuries of brutal underground existence. Paul Miki and his companions were not just the first fruits of Japanese martyrdom; they remain a beacon of how the Gospel, once rooted in a culture, can never be truly uprooted, even by the sword.