Jizō Statues

“You, Lord, will keep the needy safe and will protect us forever from the wicked.” Psalm 12:7

Jizo

My first encounter with jizō statues occurred while driving on a winding, forested road circling a scenic volcanic lake. The silent and gnome-like stone sentries along the road easily blended into their natural setting, but their conspicuous bright red clothing and caps managed to catch my attention. In spite of the frozen half-smiles fixed upon their faces, these solitary figures portrayed a sense of loneliness incongruent with their colorful attire. I had no idea what they were but it was obvious that these stone carvings served some sort of religious purpose. I later learned that they were called jizō (地蔵) or “womb of the earth,” but are often honorifically referred to as ojizō-sama.

Jizō are commonly found on minor roads, in temple gardens, along public footpaths and even outside of busy train stations. They are often housed within a primitive wooden hut to provide a symbolic protection from the elements. These statues are considered to be representatives of a Bosatsu, a Buddhist adherent who sacrificially postponed his own transition to Nirvana in order to aid others on their spiritual journey towards enlightenment. The Jizō variety of Bosatsu are regarded as the protectors of travelers and children, which accounts for their deliberate placement in areas associated with travel. Devotees often dress these jizō statues in red bibs and hats as red is believed to be a color that wards off evil or danger. Legends say that the jizō also protect children who have prematurely died from evil spirits by hiding them in their clothing, thus enabling them to complete their spiritual pilgrimage.

But these seemingly innocuous statues often hide a darker purpose designed to fill deep emotional wounds of women who have miscarried in pregnancy or have chosen to abort the life of their unborn child. Memorial services are offered for those who have experienced such loss in which prayers are offered to the jizō for a dead or unborn child. Such services also provide a form of emotional closure for the grieving or guilt-ridden parent. The origins of this custom may date back as far as the 14^th century and is designed to assure the well-being of a child who did not have sufficient opportunity to accrue good karma on earth.

Gazing upon jizō statues, it is not hard to imagine the natural longing of the human heart to seek protection for one’s self or for a deceased loved one. After all, God is continually portrayed in Scriptures as the One who protects His people and several metaphors are used to capture this important concept. That is why God is frequently described as a rock, a hiding place, a stronghold, a shield and even as a mother hen guarding her chicks. But this also raises the question of who are the needy and from what do they need protection?

The Bible often singles out widows, the fatherless and foreigners who are in special need of protection because of their vulnerable social and economic status (Psalm 146:9). However, these examples of needy individuals serve to remind us that any of us at any given time can become weakened and left defenseless by dire circumstances in life or through the devious actions of others. Therefore, we all need a Protector to whom we can flee for safety that no stone statue can begin to provide. In stark contrast, the Maker of Heaven and Earth beckons us to turn to Him for whatever help we may need in whatever crisis we may face. As we travel through life, only God can “keep the needy safe and will protect us forever from the wicked.” (Psalm 12:7) He is no silent stone statue which is impotent to protect us.

47 Ronin

“Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath.” Romans 12:19a

47 Ronin

In 2013, Hollywood released the film “47 Ronin” which was loosely based on a famous event in Japan and starred Keanu Reeves. In the ensuing years, this well-chronicled historical incident gained notoriety through several plays and numerous movie versions. As the title indicates, the story centers around rōnin, or former samurai who have been relegated to social outcast status in Japan’s feudal class system. This loss of prestige is usually due to the death or disgrace of a samurai’s master. Rōnin (浪人) literally means “wandering wave person” and the term is now commonly applied to other societal misfits or wanderers. In modern Japan, the word rōnin is frequently used to describe unemployed white-collar workers or high school graduates who have not been accepted by a university.

According to ancient traditions, a samurai was given the opportunity to commit seppuku (ritual suicide) upon the loss of his master rather than endure a life without honor or status as a rōnin. To do otherwise invited shame, but many rōnin became mercenaries, joined the merchant class or got involved in criminal activities. However, the story of the 47 rōnin was an extreme exception to this pattern.

The legendary tale of these unusual rōnin began with the forced seppuku of Asano Naganori, a minor feudal lord who had assaulted a powerful court official named Kira Yoshinaka in April 1701. However, contrary to accepted traditional patterns, 47 of Asano’s samurai refused to accept their fate and secretly vowed to avenge the death of their master. Led by a samurai named Ōishi, they agreed to disperse and take on ordinary roles as tradesmen and monks to lull their enemy into complacency. Over a year later, on January 31, 1703, the 47 rōnin broke through Kira’s lax defenses and succeeded in killing him, carrying out their intricate plan for vengeance. Knowing that authorities would not condone their vendetta, this band of dedicated rōnin proceeded to place Kira’s severed head on their master’s tomb in the Sengaku-ji Temple and then laid down their weapons in surrender. These infamous assailants were then ordered to commit seppuku, which only served to further cement their legendary status throughout Japan. As Asano’s devoted retainers, the 47 rōnin were ceremonially buried near their master, which over time, become a place of veneration due to their enduring example of loyalty, perseverance, honor and sacrifice.

Although there are many noble attributes associated with this famous tale, the darker motive of revenge primarily drives the narrative. While it is certainly true that the name and honor of Asano Naganori was restored through the heroic deeds of his loyal subjects, they too had something to gain. Their honor as samurai was preserved, a wrong was avenged and their names live on in history. But this does not overlook that the essence of revenge is basically rooted in selfishness where one tries to get even for a personal wrong suffered at the hands of corrupt or uncaring people. The core premise of revenge is that another form of evil must be used to counteract evil.

However, the Scriptures call us to pursue a higher alternative based on faith and grounded in the character of God. “Do not take revenge, my dear friends, but leave room for God’s wrath, for it is written: ‘It is mine to avenge; I will repay,’ says the Lord.” (Romans 12:19) The very act of revenge requires one to assume the role of God, dispensing justice and retribution based upon personal slights and a limited understanding of transpired events. We live in a world that seems dominated at times by injustice and lies, but we must remember that ultimate justice and truth are God’s exclusive domain. As an act of faith, we must leave these matters in His hands and to His Son, who was shamed like a rōnin but died on our behalf. The cross paradoxically represents both justice and injustice. It is an unprecedented story, with only one hero, who changed the course of not just history, but eternity.

Different Deaths

“Who can live and not see death, or who can escape the power of the grave?” Psalm 89:4

Mr. Watanabe* was only 39 years old when he suddenly passed away, shocking everyone who knew him. In contrast, Mr. Suzuki’s* death at age 64 was not particularly unusual, but it shocked people for different reasons. Further details revealed that Mr. Watanabe probably died from karōshi (“death from overwork”) and the circumstances associated with Mr. Suzuki’s death classified it as a “solitary death,” or kodokushi. The common Japanese character in both of these terms for death is shi (死). It is often used in association with other characters to indicate the particular nature of a person’s demise, such as death from starvation, disease, suicide or battle.

The term karōshi, was coined in 1978 to describe the increasingly reported phenomenon of relatively young adults dying prematurely and the cause of their deaths being primarily linked to extreme overwork. Most of these individuals labored for long hours over an extended period of time with no days off until they eventually collapsed due to a combination of stress, exhaustion and poor dietary habits. Heart attacks and strokes were the most common results and many resorted to taking their own lives in desperation. Some surviving relatives began to file lawsuits against companies that were guilty of forcing impossible working conditions upon their employees. The disturbing trend of such deaths eventually came to the attention of public authorities and prompted government intervention. Karōshi hotlines were set up to offer help, laws were enacted to limit overtime and companies were educated to implement frequent health checks and better working conditions for employees. Workers were also encouraged to take their allotted days off and personal vacation time which many had previously foregone due to work pressures.

Kodokushi, or “lonely death,” points to a different sociological problem where people become isolated from communities for various reasons and die alone in their residence with their bodies remaining undiscovered for long periods of time. This social anomaly was identified in the 1980s and came to the nation’s attention following the Great Hanshin earthquake in 1995, when thousands of elderly Japanese were relocated to isolated residences and many mysteriously started to die alone with their deaths going unreported. Further research reveals that this alarming trend is almost unique to men who are over fifty, unemployed, live isolated lives and have minimal contact with family. In some cases, the bodies of such individuals remain undiscovered for years until their bank accounts eventually become depleted, triggering a cessation of automatic payments for their rent and utilities. Toru Koremura, who operates a specialized cleaning company that deals with the unpleasant after effects from such deaths ironically commented, “Dead people have taught me how to live better.” Read the article “The Lonely End” by Matthew Bremner for a sobering account of this phenomenon.

Regardless of the circumstances of one’s death or the cause of death, there is one common denominator of truth that is universally avoided: we will all eventually die. Some deaths may be unusually tragic, others heroic and some barely noticed, but no one is exempt. Everyone dies, but paradoxically, we generally live our lives pretending otherwise, as the alternative is too frightening. This approach explains why death is described as our ultimate enemy in I Corinthians 15:26, but the passage goes on to announce the glorious news that the power of death is eternally broken by the sacrificial death of God’s own Son (vv. 55-57). Koremura is correct in observing that we can learn much from death, but we need not fear it. I have stood before many graves and read the powerful words “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The answer? It has been defeated by the Cross.

*Both are fictional characters

Empty Foundations

“For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” Hebrews 11:10

Following the Great East Japan Earthquake in March 2011, a familiar sight along the 500-kilometer (310 miles) stretch of devastated coastline were empty foundations in field after field where bustling towns and villages once stood. Over several months, mountains of debris caused by the tsunami were painstakingly removed and the only remaining evidence of prior human habitation were thousands of vacant concrete slabs. Vegetation slowly took over and the seemingly empty fields eventually begin to appear like ancient archeological ruins lingering from a previous civilization. Long stretches of collapsed sea walls usually accompanied these sites, offering muted testimony of their failure to protect the inhabitants against the destructive forces of nature.

Most of the survivors from this massive disaster were relocated to hastily assembled temporary housing units that were tucked further inland on higher ground. There, the survivors stoically waited for months and then years for the return of normalcy and some form of permanence in their lives. Each community worked with government officials to develop master plans for rebuilding and renewal as they struggled to recover from the past and yet still dreamed of future prospects.

This process understandably took time, and transpired in phases as mammoth machines moved earth and rubble to give way to a new infrastructure, hosting new communities. As part of this transition process, temporary buildings sprang up everywhere, almost like weeds, providing a variety of badly needed services. Temporary grocery stores, gas stations, drinking establishments, restaurants, local shops, business offices, clinics, police stations and even a public bath dotted the landscape, reminding everyone of past and present hardships while fostering hope of a better future. Some businesses managed to reopen on the top floors of badly damaged structures that would later be demolished. All of this served as a constant reminder that we lived in the midst of a deeply stricken community desperately struggling to survive.

Living in such a prefab world only served to increase our thirst for things of a permanent and even eternal nature. As we tread carefully among the rubble of people’s lives, our thoughts were often lifted heavenward and we began to “look forward to a city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” (Hebrews 11:10) Much like our spiritual father Abraham and other heroes of the faith, many of whose lives are chronicled in that same chapter, the incompleteness or temporary nature of things characterizing our lives reminded us daily of heavenly realities that yet awaited us. As we often pondered on what those empty foundations represented in the past, they also served as a powerful reminder of much greater things that were only visible through eyes of faith. That’s the city we should seek in the midst of life’s storms.

Disaster Kits

“Have not these disasters come on us because our God is not with us?” Deuteronomy 31:17b

Emergency kit

Members of our mission organization typically receive a personal emergency evacuation backpack when they first arrive in Japan. This unusual item is a standard provision because a wide variety of natural disasters such as typhoons, earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanic eruptions, landslides and floods frequently hit Japan and they often occur with minimal warning. These disaster kits are to be kept handy in the event of an emergency and we are frequently reminded by the government to periodically conduct an inventory of the contents to make sure batteries and other perishable items are kept up to date.

The recommended standard contents for an emergency bag would include such items as food and water for three days, a flashlight, a lighter, cash, a radio, a first aid kit, rope, toiletry items, extra batteries, a change of clothing, a multi-purpose tool, copies of important documents (passport, driver’s license, etc.) and essential medications. No one knows when a disaster will strike, so it is always good to be prepared. As part of that preparation, the Japanese government regularly conducts emergency drills in local communities, schools and places of business.

However, disasters, by their very definition, often occur without much warning and at irregular intervals so it is human nature to become lax in preparedness. The important emergency evacuation bag might get shoved to the back of a closet so its location easily slips from one’s memory. In addition, carefully stored food can become stale or spoiled, making it inedible. Batteries corrode over time and become useless. Copies of important documents can become out of date and fail to serve their intended purpose. The often-quoted proverb, “Out of sight, out of mind,” applies to this natural tendency to push recognized priorities aside while focusing on more immediate, visible matters.

The term “disaster,” actually covers a wide gamut of unexpected and unwelcome circumstances that can wreak havoc in our lives. The death of a loved one. The loss of employment. Financial ruin. A burned-out home. War. A pandemic. Failing health. A broken relationship. Food shortages. A natural emergency. Or as Texas recently experienced, a prolonged ice storm. It is during these times of extreme calamity where life seems overwhelming and we feel that we have lost all control over the events cascading around us. Such disasters generally interrupt our patterns of normalcy and many unfortunately, have life-long consequences. These unexpected catastrophes can either drive us to utter despair or to increased dependence on God who is somehow sovereign over all such occurrences.

This truth points to the reality that there are often deeper elements or purposes behind many of the calamities that alter our lives. Some are self-inflicted, and the resultant consequence was often rightly perceived in the Old Testament as a form of punishment from God for willful disobedience. (Deuteronomy 31:17b) But other disasters seem to come out of nowhere and devastate both the wicked and the godly with impartiality. While such things are difficult to comprehend and even harder to embrace, they serve as a critical reminder to turn to the only emergency kit that will suffice in such adverse circumstances. That is God Himself. “Therefore, we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea.” (Psalm 46:2) “I will take refuge in the shadow of your wings until the disaster is passed.” (Psalm 57:1b) This is the true emergency evacuation bag we must keep close at hand to sustain us in times of trouble.

Shiokari Pass

“Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” John 15:13

Shiokari Pass

Located at the apex of Shiokari Pass in Japan’s northern island of Hokkaido, sits a solitary marker in a desolate spot, commemorating the story of Masao Nagano, a man who sacrificed his life to save others. This newsworthy event took place over one hundred years ago on February 28, 1909. At the time, Nagano san was employed as a railway official in the major city of Asahikawa, where he was highly respected by his superiors and colleagues for his integrity, work ethic and generous spirit. There was one other important fact about this young civil servant that made him stand out to others: he was a Christian. Masao was quite zealous in his faith, even using his own personal funds to help found the Young Railway Men’s Christian Association and was a popular speaker within local Christian circles.

On that particular snowy evening, Nagano san was making his way home from a church meeting on a train that regularly traversed the steep Shiokari Pass. As the train neared the summit, the last carriage in which he and other passengers were riding suddenly became uncoupled from the rest of the train and started to roll backwards downhill towards their certain destruction. Everyone knew the train car would soon pick up speed and likely hurtle off the tracks at the first bend. As an experienced railway worker, Masao Nagano immediately leapt into action and raced to the hand brake at the rear of the carriage. In desperation, he repeatedly turned the brake wheel to stop the descent of the trapped passengers. His efforts succeeded in slowing down the carriage, but not sufficiently to stop their downward movement. However, just when it seemed all was lost, the train car surprisingly came to a stop. All the occupants were saved, but their deliverance had come at a great cost. It was soon discovered that Nagano san had thrown himself under the wheels of the train car and managed to halt its doomed descent.

On Nagano’s body, in the inner pocket of his jacket, authorities discovered a recent copy of his will where, among other things, he had written: “I am equally grateful for all the hardships, happiness, life and death. With gratitude I offer all I have to God.” He was only 30 years of age, but in his short time on earth, Masao Nagano managed to impact many for the kingdom of God. Thanks to the efforts of famed Christian novelist, Ayako Miura, Nagano san’s story continues to touch countless lives through her famous novel “Shiokari Pass.” This widely acclaimed book published in 1968 is a fictional story largely based on what is known of Masao Nagano’s life and was later made into a movie. A candlelight vigil now takes place at Shiokari Pass every year on February 28 to honor the man who selflessly laid down his life for others.

It is generally understood that love of self often impedes empathy of other people’s needs and, consequently, our willingness to take sacrificial action on their behalf. Nowhere is this more evident than our natural penchant to preserve our own life even when other lives are at stake. This tendency is likely why Jesus used the example of sacrificing one’s life for someone else as the supreme demonstration of the meaning of love. Of course, Jesus later modeled such love on the cross, inspiring one of His disciples to offer up the following challenge: Bottom of Form“This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” (I John 3:16) We would do well to follow the example of Nagano san, who offered all he had to God at Shiokari Pass.

Funerals & Feasting

“It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. “ Ecclesiastes 7:2

Overhead view family toasting wine glasses at candlelight Christmas turkey dinner at table

As a few of us solemnly gathered around the shrouded body of a church member who had just tragically taken his own life, I was asked, “Did you drive here in your van?” I thought it was an odd question considering the circumstances. Less than an hour later, I found myself driving that same van with a corpse wrapped in my old car blanket and a grieving widow sitting beside me in the front seat, numbly holding her husband’s death certificate. This unusual scenario launched my initiation into performing my first funeral in Japan.

My immediate education began with assisting the undertaker in preparing the deceased’s body for burial. The body had to be washed, dressed and the face even shaved as hair continues to grow for a while following death. Rigor mortis had already set in, which proved to be a problem as the casket was a bit small, requiring us to manipulate the limbs to ensure the body would fit. While my attention was briefly diverted by a few important phone calls, a well-meaning Buddhist neighbor had convinced the deceased’s wife, who was also a Christian, to surround her husband’s body with things that he would like to enjoy in the afterlife. Even though I was inexperienced in such matters, this arrangement didn’t seem right. A quick phone call to a local Japanese pastor confirmed my suspicions and gave me the confidence to persuade them to remove such objectionable items.

The next few days were a blur accompanied by minimal sleep as I undertook a crash course in Japanese funeral protocol and vocabulary, made countless funeral arrangements, prepared messages, and comforted grieving family and church members. As a young and inexperienced missionary, I felt completely overwhelmed by the situation. While struggling to pull my thoughts together for a message that would somehow convey hope in the face of so much loss, I was led to a previously overlooked verse in the Bible where Solomon advises: “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart.” (Ecclesiastes 7:2)

I lived in the house of mourning during those dark, distressing days. I mourned the loss of a member of my church plant who was under my care. I mourned my inadequacies as a missionary. I mourned my inability to comfort family and church members. I mourned my own sinfulness. If granted a choice, I would have greatly preferred to linger in the house of feasting, but that was not an option.

We live our lives trying to ignore the inevitability of death and its cold reality. We dress it up when forced to confront it at funerals. In our daily lives, we do our best to minimalize death and pretend it isn’t there, always waiting for us unseen around the corner. Some go out of their way to redefine death and somehow tame it with new age sentiment and terminology. But Solomon saw immense value in visiting the house of mourning in contrast to the house of feasting. For it is only when we come within proximity of death that we are able to gain a healthy perspective of eternity. In such moments, we are also given a glimpse of God’s heavenly purpose in whatever days He has allotted for us. While I reluctantly resided in the house of mourning, I was able to feast on who God is, what He has done, and most important of all, what He will someday do.

Tree of Hope

“Such is the destiny of all who forget God; so perishes the hope of the godless.” Job 8:13

Tree of Hope

On the shoreline of the small coastal Japanese town of Rikuzentakada, stands a lone, towering pine tree, which is all that remains of a once-flourishing forest of 70,000 trees. All the other trees were obliterated in a matter of minutes by a 42-foot tsunami that swept aside everything caught in its relentless path of destruction on March 2011. Local survivors of that terrible natural disaster were amazed by the resiliency of this one particular tree, and fondly began referring to it as the “Pine Tree of Hope” (希望の松). For many residents on the coast who experienced the tragedy of that fateful day, that single tree became a symbol of hope among those who had lost so much. We ourselves marveled at the seeming miracle of this solitary tree every time we passed through the area while engaged in relief work ministry.

Unfortunately, the extreme salinization of the soil caused by the onslaught of seawater eventually took its toll on the Pine Tree of Hope such that it began dying and, sadly, had to be cut down. However, thanks to Japanese ingenuity and generous donations to the project, the tree was restored and erected in its original location. As part of that process, this natural monument was carefully cut into sections using a giant crane and each portion was carefully treated over the course of months with special preservatives. Then the pieces were reassembled around a uniquely constructed carbon spine as the final stage to bring this powerful symbol of resiliency back to life.

Everyone understandably celebrated the restoration of the Pine Tree of Hope, but if one paused to reflect upon these matters, it seems rather ironic to note that a tree, which is supposed to offer hope, is actually a fake. This bit of irony may lead one to reasonably ask, “What is real hope and how can I obtain it?” Men can certainly replant a forest, but only God, the Creator and Sustainer of all things, can make a tree and give men genuine, lasting hope in the midst of life’s most adverse circumstances.

The biblical patriarch Job, wrestled with such perplexing issues while suffering enormous personal loss. He came to the conclusion that hope is an exercise in futility if it is not grounded in the character and eternality of God (Job 8:13). Interestingly, the word “hope” appears in the Book of Job nineteen times, which almost seems incongruous with the massive setbacks in his life, like a fake pine tree in the middle of a disaster zone. But closer examination reveals that Job’s hope was not centered on the possibility of future positive outcomes, but on God Himself. Such a sure foundation of hope explains why the psalmist confidently declares “Blessed are those… whose hope is in the Lord their God. He is the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea and everything in them—he remains faithful forever.” (Psalm 146:5-6) In the tsunamis of life, only God, not a tree, can provide real hope.

Persecution

“Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:10

Persecution

Protestant Christianity came to Japan in 1859, but Catholic missionaries arrived approximately three hundred years earlier, making a significant impact.* Francis Xavier (1506-1552) was a Jesuit priest who is historically credited for introducing Christianity to Japan and he was followed by many other Catholic priests and monks. These early missionaries encountered an initial measure of success as they baptized over 100,000 converts, including a number of local feudal lords. This new religious movement was initially unopposed by the ruling Shogunate, but the Japanese leaders eventually became suspicious of the outsiders who represented countries intent on expanding their colonial empires. Fearing a loss of power, the Japanese rulers proceeded to launch a ruthless persecution of Christianity and its followers.

To aid them in this endeavor, these Japanese despots developed an effective method called “fumie” (踏み絵), to help identify adherents to the new religion. Fumie means literally “to stamp or trample on an image,” referring to a religious icon usually bearing a likeness of Jesus or Mary. Utilizing this devious scheme, suspected Christians (Kirishitan) were rounded up in each village and forced one by one to trample on the venerated image placed before them. If they refused to do so, the Kirishitans were turned over to the professional torturers to either recant or die for their faith. The commonly used methods of torment included immersing victims in scalding hot springs, burning some Kirishitans alive, hanging others upside down over pits full of excrement or attaching some to crosses in the ocean where they were slowly drowned by the incoming tide. Government authorities were so zealous in their persecution efforts that they continued the practice of fumie for several years, even to the fourth generation in their attempt to completely stamp out any remnants of Christianity in Japan.

Many believers understandably went underground with their faith and religious practices and were soon referred to as “Kakure Kirishitans” (隠れキリシタン) meaning, “hidden Christians.” In subsequent decades and even centuries to come, the Kakure Kirishitans continued to secretly gather for worship, using prayers modified to sound like Buddhist chants and retained portions of the Bible through oral transmission. The famous Japanese author, Shūsaku Endo, creatively captured the events of this dark period in Japanese history through his novel “Silence,” which was recently brought to life as a major motion picture by the same name. Viewer discretion is advised for the following clips from the movie:

A Jesuit priest recants his faith: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EOX8-c-_uVY

Martyrdom through drowning: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uhqa8KylUM8

On a hill in Nagasaki now stands the Church of the 26 Martyrs, which was erected in 1962 to commemorate the lives of 26 Christians who were executed on that exact site on February 5, 1597. It stands as a solemn reminder that those who identify with Christ and take up their own cross to follow Him are not exempt from persecution. Like the early Japanese martyrs who forfeited their own lives by living for the kingdom of God, we are called to pursue righteousness and godliness, while living among the kingdoms of this earth. We must resist all evil influences that would sway us to trample on the things of God.

*There is some evidence that Christianity was actually introduced to Japan almost 1,800 years ago through early Nestorian missionaries, but failed to achieve a significant foothold in the country.

Visas for Life

“I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” John 10:10b

Chiune Sugihara

Most people have heard of the World War II German industrialist, Oskar Schindler, who was made famous by the award-winning movie “Schindler’s List.” Schindler was credited for rescuing 1,200 Jews from the Holocaust, but few realize that he had a Japanese contemporary who played a similar key role by saving many Jewish lives during those tumultuous times.

Chiune Sugihara was a Japanese diplomat who served in Lithuania from 1939 to 1940 as a vice-consul for the Japanese Empire. At the time, Lithuania was occupied by Russian forces. Many Jews already resided in the tiny Baltic country or had fled there from other parts of Europe to escape persecution. Sugihara had been stationed in Lithuania because of his expertise in Russian affairs, his military background and his command of the Russian, German and English languages. As a student at the famous Waseda University, Sugihara joined a Christian fraternity and later openly converted to Christianity (Russian Orthodox Church) when he married. Later on, while carrying out his assigned governmental duties, Sugihara began to experience conflict between some of his ingrained cultural values and his growing Christian conscience when he observed injustices perpetrated by the Japanese. This inner turmoil eventually led Sugihara to actually resign his position as the Deputy Foreign Minister in Manchuria in 1935 as a protest against the inhumane treatment of local Chinese by the occupying Japanese army.

Sugihara’s radical and rather risky action seemed to set the stage for the chain of events that later unfolded in the summer of 1940. In direct disobedience to his orders from Japan, Sugihara san issued transit visas to Japan for Jews stranded in Lithuania and seeking safe passage from war-torn Europe. For a period of one month, he and his wife tirelessly worked twenty-hour days to painstakingly handwrite and grant visas for long lines of desperate refugees begging for help. When Sugihara was ordered to leave his post on September 4, he still continued to issue visas in route to the train station and even tossed them out the window to eager recipients as his train departed. Towards the end of the war, Sugihara and his family were cruelly imprisoned in a Soviet POW camp for 18 months before finally returning to Japan where he lived out the remainder of his days in obscurity and poverty. Although it is impossible to confirm how many visas Sugihara issued, conservative estimates place the number at around 6,000, which means roughly 40,000 descendants of those original refugees owe their existence to Sugihara’s heroic efforts. In 1985, the State of Israel finally recognized Chiune Sugihara, bestowing upon him the title “Righteous Among the Nations” for his selfless and sacrificial actions on behalf of the Jewish people.

Some people have referred to Sugihara’s coveted transit visas as “visas of life” for those fortunate recipients. In the Bible, Jesus frequently affirmed that He is the ultimate source of life for those who follow Him (cf. the Gospel of John) and as such, Jesus offers us the only available “transit” to heaven. Through Chiune Sugihara’s sacrificial advocacy for others, he provided “visas of life” for those who would otherwise perish. But through the cross, God provided the far more important “visa of eternal life” to escape the coming judgment of sin. Therefore, God has bestowed upon Jesus the title, “The Righteous One” (I John 2:1), who brought salvation to His people.