What 400 Years of Faithfulness Wrought

The Venerable Canon Jason Constantine / February 14, 2026

God the Holy Spirit is moving and working powerfully in our ministries. 

Sometimes we actually get to see it. 

I had a long day and was simply tired.  The thought of pushing off my responsibility to conduct evensong to the chaplain who assists with the Anglican services at Pearl Harbor’s Memorial Chapel tempted me.  Admittedly, I even toyed with the idea of canceling the public service for the night and doing it privately.   

The term, “responsibility” seemed like an exaggeration since I’m not assigned to the chapel staff.  My assignment isn’t even a Navy assignment at the moment!  I'm currently serving with the Marines and it’s an admin-heavy posting, which means that both the Navy and the Marine Corps do not expect much priestly-work out of me beyond the sporadic pastoral counseling of Marine personnel and delivering a prayer or two at an occasional military ceremony.   Even though, as an Anglican priest in JAFC means I will meet my canonical requirement to pray the Daily Office, leading a worship service even now and then is of no consideration for my current position.  All that said, I’m the only Jurisdiction of the Armed Forces and Chaplaincy (JAFC) chaplain on Oahu.  Neither is there an Anglican Reformed Catholic Church (ARCC) parish on the island.  So, if service personnel on Oahu are going to have access to the JAFC and ARCC expression of the Faith, I’m the one to deliver it. 

To be perfectly honest, evensong is not well attended.  Between family, work, and chapel schedules, I’m only able to offer evensong on Tuesday evenings.  Most Tuesday evenings, it's only my son and me.  Frequently, but not always, a chaplain from another Anglican tradition attends and assists.  This Tuesday was shaping up as being one where my son and I were the only members of the Church Militant present to raise our voices with the Church Triumphant’s choir. 

Despite the rather low turn-out of participants, I don’t see these Tuesdays as futile even from a pragmatic standpoint.  My son is studying to be a verger and fulfills the role of parish clerk.  The low-pressure environment of an empty nave makes it easier for him to not fear mistakes as he learns to chant evensong.  I left my son to set-up the nave and sanctuary, a constant chore in a multi-use chapel, and started to vest in the sacristy.  Just before throwing on my surplice, my son walks in with a gentleman in tow.  He turns to the gentleman and says, “This is Father Constantine, he’s the chaplain who leads evensong.” 

The percentage of Japan’s population that is Christian is approximately one percent.  This gentleman, a medical officer off the Japanese warship moored across from the chapel, happens to be of this one percent.  Although Roman Catholic, he eagerly agrees to join us for evensong.  I’m not entirely surprised by his hunger to worship; the Japanese Defense Force has no chaplains and makes little if any accommodation for religious practice.  There’s also a very good chance that this officer is the only Christian on his ship. 

I imagine what may have happened if I chose not to offer evensong on Tuesdays or even canceled the public service for this one night because I was simply tired.  This brother in Christ would not have had the opportunity to join in prayer and I would have been the thief that stole it from him.  Instead, I was the priest who pronounced absolution after the prayer of confession and facilitated an opportunity for him to join the Saints in prayer.  The line between being whom I’m called to be and the opposite is far finer than I realized. 

I hadn’t connected the dots right away; interestingly, the Thursday following was the Feast of the Martyrs of Japan.  By the late 1500s, the Japanese government became increasingly concerned about foreign influence and ordered the expulsion of all Christians.  In 1597, twenty-six Christians were executed by crucifixion in Nagasaki.  These are the martyrs commemorated as the Martyrs of Japan.  More Christians were martyred in the following years.  Despite this persecution, the Church in Japan continued underground and faithfully made disciples of Jesus Christ for 250 years before being discovered by western missionaries in the 19^th Century. 

During these centuries of persecution and surviving in secret, the Church in Japan had no clergy.  Yet they remained faithful.  Over 400 years after the Martyrs of Japan were crucified on a hill overlooking Nagasaki, a young medical student attending the Japanese Defense Force’s medical school in Nagasaki was introduced to Christ through the descendants of these faithful Christians who survived centuries of persecution without the benefit of deacons, priests, and bishops.  Such faithfulness of the laity delivered this young man to Christ. 

I don’t know exactly who will ultimately benefit from the blessed by-products of worshipping God, but I do know that I certainly don’t want to be the reason such a long and amazing chain of faithfulness is broken.  Had I failed to be faithful that Tuesday night and not conduct evensong, I doubt this Japanese medical officer would have lost his faith; but what use is an empty and dark chapel in a land where it may freely be filled and lit?  What use is a priest, who is under no persecution, that doesn’t faithfully do what priests are to do even when there’s nothing to stop him?  The Church in Japan didn’t set out to be an example of faithfulness, those Christians were simply faithful in doing what they were called to do despite everything trying to stop them.  And so, God saw them through and a young medical officer receives salvation.  That is what 400 years of faithfulness has wrought.