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When the first missionaries landed in Japan in 1549, Tintoretto was 31, living in Venice, and finishing a collection of paintings concerning St. Mark. In Kyoto, the Imperial capital of Japan, there was a 27-year-old man who was learning tea ceremony. He was destined to be known as Sen Rikyu, and is considered the originator of tea ceremony in its modern form. He became the tea master for the two rulers of his time, first Oda Nobunaga, and later Toyotomi Hideyoshi. He also taught tea ceremony to many people, seven of whom became known as his disciples. Of those seven, four were Buddhist, but three--Oda Yuraku (nephew of the ruler Oda Nobunaga), Gamo Ujisato, and Takayama Ukon--were Christian. (Also, one of the Buddhists, Hosokawa Tadaoki, had a Christian wife named Gracia, who was the basis for "Mariko" in the novel Shogun, who, like "Mariko" didn't engage in adultery, but who like "Mariko," died in Osaka Castle rather than be taken hostage by a rival clan.) As a result, when one experiences a tea ceremony, one can notice aspects that seem like they came from the eucharist, or communion service.
In 1587, however, the first of a series of persecutions of Christians occurred. Takayama Ukon had been baptized in 1564 at the age of 12, and wherever he had gone in his life--and he had ruled over four different places throughout western and southern Japan--he had evangelized the area and converted many people to Christianity. Even though he had also been loyal to his superiors, in 1587 they removed him from his fiefdom as part of the first persecution, and he was forced to go way up Japan's western coast to Kanazawa, where he was given sanctuary in 1588 by the Maeda rulers there. For the next 26 years, he practiced tea ceremony, and was instrumental in establishing Kanazawa as a wealthy and protected town of culture--because it was the one place in Japan where gold could be mined.
Finally, in 1614, the new shogun, Tokugawa Ieyasu, decided to choose one unifying religion for the country, and he chose Buddhism. All the European missionaries were exiled, tens of thousands of peasants who refused to deny Christ were slaughtered, and the remaining Christian samurai, including Takayama Ukon, were given a choice: deny Christ, leave Japan for the Philippines, or die. The man of tea, who had accepted the death of Christ for his sake, refused to allow others to die for him, though the Maeda clan was ready to start a civil war to protect him.
Takayama left Kanazawa, along with 300 other Christians, and travelled to Manila. The Spanish Christians in the Philippines wanted to organize an armed invasion of Japan to re-institute Christianity, but again Takayama refused: he understood, more than many Christians, that accepting Christ doesn't happen at the point of a samurai sword, but at the point of the two-edged sword of the Spirit, the Word of God. In any case, he died only 40 days after arriving in Manila.
For the next 250 years, the few Christians left in Japan who survived the shogun's policies went underground, so much so that they became known as kakure (hidden) Christians. When Japan finally opened up to the world in the mid 1800s, Catholic missionaries coming to Japan were greeted with open arms by these Christians, and were astounded to discover that, despite horrific persecution, these people had transmitted their faith through 13 generations.
I have been to Kanazawa twice, both times in 2005. The first time was in July, when my son was in a summer study program at Kanazawa Institute of Technology, where he was the representative from Rose-Hulman; it was hot and humid the whole time. The second time was in late November of the same year, when on a tea ceremony trip I was able to take a few days to go back. It was cold and rainy, and the week after I left it began to snow--but for one day it was dry, and the red maples were beautiful. The area is still known for its gold and for its tea ceremony--and while it is famous for a "ninja" Buddhist temple and a Shinto shrine that looks like a German train station, there are more churches in Kanazawa than there are in most Japanese cities. (cf. here)
And one other place I went to. In Kyoto, at the massive Daitoku-ji complex of Buddhist temples is one dedicated to a Christian, a man who had befriended Francis Xavier during his year in Japan, 1550. The temple is the Zuiho-in, and the Christian was Otomo Sorin, known as the "seven-province daimyo" because of the size of his fiefdom at its height. Otomo died in 1587, just missing the government's persecution, but in his temple there are two rock gardens. One has the rocks shaped as a cross, and the other has rocks shaped like Christ preaching his Sermon on the Mount, with the disciples around him and the people following. (cfd. here)
Everywhere, even in the worst of persecution, even at the other end of the world, God is always spreading His gospel of salvation, and the message is always there to those who will listen. He who has ears to hear, let him hear.
P.S. When I get to heaven, I want to see Jesus and lay my crowns, such as they may be, at His feet. Then I want to see my parents again. After Jesus and my parents, I want to meet Takayama Ukon. Perhaps, if there is matcha, the powdered green tea of the tea ceremony, or some equivalent in heaven, we can share that tea, in a teabowl of gold purer than the gold of Kanazawa, as clear as glass. It says in Scripture that there are no more tears in heaven, but I think I would break down into sobbing--tears of joy. Just knowing it will be, my eyes well up as I type this.
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To all who have read this, thank you. Here is another statue of Takayama Ukon, which has been my Facebook avatar for quite some time.
