St. Francis Xavier introduced Christianity to Japan in the 16th century and, within a century, the Catholic population rose to 200,000.

Yet, despite this promising beginning, Japanese Christians have not always fared well. While Catholics were being persecuted in England under Elizabeth I, they were similarly victimized in Japan by Imperial Regent Toyotomi Hideyoshi. I was involved in several excavations at the Kashihara Archaeological Institute a few years ago and, having some down time between projects, I hoped to visit Nishizaka, the Martyrs’ Hill in Nagasaki where 24 Christians were executed by pagans nearly 400 years ago.

It took a month for these martyrs to march 600 miles from Kyoto to Nagasaki after their trial. Their torn feet blessed the snow beneath them with drops of their blood; their ears had been cut off prior to their sentencing. As they walked, they praised God and blessed their tormentors and the peasants who came out to jeer or gawk. The regent hoped the agonizing march would entice these 23 adults and three children to renounce Christ. He underestimated God’s grace.

The saints weren’t nailed to their crosses. Instead, they were affixed with ropes around their waists and thick iron rings on their necks, wrists and ankles. Four soldiers carried out the executions. Each carried enormous lances tipped with sword-like blades. At his signal, a pair of soldiers thrust their weapons through the chest of each of the boys and men as they hung helplessly from their crosses. The lances crossed diagonally, meeting inside the martyrs’ chests.

Of the 6,000 Christians killed in the 226 years the Church suffered persecution in Japan, we only have the names of 650 put to death on Martyrs’ Hill. The others remain known only to God. But as in ancient Rome and in modern China, God bestows special graces upon the faithful in the midst of their troubles. The Church went underground, where the faith flourished without the sacraments, becoming the Kakure Kirishitan (Hidden Christians).

When some semblance of religious freedom was granted to Japanese Christians after Commodore Matthew Perry’s arrival in Japan, the Nagasaki Christians built their first church, Our Lady of the Discovery of the Japanese Christians, on March 17, 1865. In 1862, Pope Pius IX canonized the original 26 martyrs. The Church celebrates their feast each Feb. 6.

Martyrs’ Museum

Japan is almost completely urbanized, which made it difficult to find the Martyrs’ Hill Shrine and Museum. I spied the Gaudi-esque steeples of nearby St. Philip’s Church (Nishizaka Church) before anything else. The church was named after the single Mexican martyr among the original 26.

In front of the museum is a short granite wall with a mesmerizing cross depicting the 26 martyrs in relief. It is an amazing piece, conveying the intimate understanding these martyrs had of Christ’s suffering — and connecting their sacrifice with the holy sacrifice of the Mass.

The three-storied Martyrs’ Museum is an imposing concrete structure, a perfect symbol of the Japanese Christians’ solid and unyielding faith. The museum tells the story of these 26 holy martyrs and of the whole of the Church in Japan, including the cultural impact the Church has had upon the nation. The columns on the building’s façade are shaped like the lances used to kill our martyrs.

I stepped inside and was struck by the museum’s ambience, which gently imposes a prayerful reverence reminiscent of a monastery or a catacomb. The Latin expressions Sursum Corda (Lift Up Your Hearts) and Deus in Itinere (May God Accompany Your Journey) stretch across the walls. The martyrs sang these words in hymns as they marched toward the hill. The phrases remind visitors that, although the saints’ suffering and persecution were indescribably cruel, they — and by extension the entire mystical body of Christ, the Church — triumphed because of their sacrifice.

Among the many dozens of exhibits is a beautiful wood carving of a crucified St. Paul Miki. The museum also displays swatches of silk bearing traces of martyrs’ blood, relics and a letter from St. Francis Xavier.

Lovely Liturgy

The Jesuit church is dedicated to St. Philip of Jesus (one of the martyrs) and stands right atop Martyrs’ Hill. It’s a modern design with two steeples reaching toward heaven like the hands of a person in fervent prayer. It was built in 1962.

The interior is a unique admixture of European and Japanese elements. When I walked into the elegant but simple space, Mass was about to start. I was the only Westerner present. When one is unfamiliar with the language in which the Mass is celebrated, one needs to rely upon a multitude of other clues and signals. This linguistic disorientation is ameliorated by one’s familiarity with the Mass.

I had no sooner sent up a prayer for help in this regard when I was greeted by a nearly inaudible gomen nasai (Japanese for “Please excuse me”). I turned to find an old woman smiling at me. She handed me a missalette. I opened it and immediately offered up my thanks to God: Romanized Japanese! Woo-hoo!

The part of the Mass in Japan that surprised me the most was the Sign of Peace. Japanese Catholics offer each other a bow rather than a handshake, although several children made a special point to come up to me and pump my arm in an awkward but friendly manner.

Later, as I prayed and contemplated all I had seen here, I considered what a great and beautiful gift we have received from martyrs down through the centuries.

For two millennia, enemies of the Church have sought to kill, forcibly convert, ignore, confuse, silence or legislate against us. The martyrs could have apostatized and denied Christ. Yet they withstood the pain, fear and humiliation. They did it for God. They did it for us.

I considered that, the glories of these martyr monuments notwithstanding, the greatest gift the Japanese martyrs bequeathed to us is the Church in Japan today: The Archdiocese of Nagasaki alone is 70,000 Catholics strong.

Angelo Stagnaro lives in

New York City.