Throughout this trip we experienced a single story: that of the Hidden Christians and how they overcame persecution, built beautiful churches, and finally gained their freedom to worship. But not everyone chose this path.
In truth, the work toward Christians going public began here in the village of Kiri. We mentioned earlier about the “discovery of the faithful” known as “shinto-hakken.” Matsujiro Domingo Mori was not the only one to head for Nagasaki upon receiving the news. Another young man named Yosaku Gaspar did as well. He met Father Petitjean in the Oura Cathedral, where he learned about Kiri.
He then told the people “The priest really was there.” The phrase signified a hope handed through the generations that someday a priest would return. The promised day had finally come. People desperately hoped it meant the end of the age of hiding. Fourteen believers eventually revealed themselves to government officials. This event was the first time Hidden Christians made themselves public in Gotō. However, their brave determination would shake the entire village.
Hundreds of Christians still lived in the village. Publicly declaring their faith was a step towards freedom. At the same time, however, those still in hiding would be in danger of being arrested and tortured. The people had two choices: Go public, or stay hidden to protect their comrades. Either choice would be made for the sake of protecting the faith.
The fourteen believers who went public were arrested. The rest were forced to build the jail that would imprison them. An act akin to the “fumi-e” desecrations. Those who resisted would themselves be arrested in the same jail. Those were their only choices.
Those who declared their faith boldly proclaimed “the age of hiding is over. Why not stand together with us?” On the other hand, those who remained in hiding resented that approach, questioning how many of their brethren they would risk with such a move. Their hearts were divided, and the rift wouldn’t be easy to close.
Years passed, and the ban on Christianity was lifted. For the first time in over 250 years, Christians were free to worship. Churches were built in all regions, and people boldly prayed. But despite that, many did not return to church. They were the ones called “secret Christians.” They hadn’t abandoned their faith. Quite the opposite; they wanted nothing more than to go to church and see their priest. Still, they were unable to return.
The church had come to symbolize freedom of faith. A freedom hard won by speaking out, now standing on the back of many sacrifices. Returning to the church meant accepting the choice they didn’t make, and considering whether they chose correctly. The church gates must have felt too heavy to open for those nursing such thoughts. Not only that, but the teachings, ceremonies and prayers inherited through the priestless era differed from before. It wouldn’t be easy to change a method of worship held for over 250 years.
Meanwhile, those who returned to church had things they wanted to protect. Now that the priest finally returned, they felt it was time to return to the original teachings. The prayers were different, the rites too distant from the source. Within the church, inherited prayers were gradually revised. Both sides acted for the sake of preserving the faith, and that was why compromise proved very difficult.
Home worshipers and church returnees. One town, two paths. Eventually the split became physical as people gradually moved away. The end of oppression should have been a neat one–but history is never that simple.
Every church you’ve seen on this trip is a symbol of hope and hard-won freedom of religion. However, when the light finally returned, some found themselves unable to walk into it. Kiri Church doesn’t just recount the tales of those who constructed it–the stories of those who never returned are also carved into its history.
