The Unbeatable Witness: When the World Takes the Head but Not the Heart

Voice over by Carol San San Lwin

Sir 47:2-13, Psalm: 17, Mk 6:14-29

Memorial of Saint Paul Miki and Companions, Martyrs

My dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,

The world understands power in a certain way: the one who holds the sword, sits on the throne, or controls the narrative is the victor. Today’s Scriptures, on this Memorial of Saint Paul Miki and his Companions, reveal a different kind of power—a power so deep that even when the head is severed, the witness remains unbroken, and the song of the faithful heart echoes into eternity.

Our first reading from Sirach sings a hymn of praise for King David. It recalls his rise, his victories, and how he “gave thanks to the Holy One… with all his heart he loved his Maker.” David’s greatness lay not merely in his military skill, but in his heart oriented toward worship. “He placed singers before the altar,” the text says, to make sweet melody with their voices. David’s reign was marked by a desire to channel the praise of the people toward God. His strength was rooted in his devotion.

This makes the brutal scene in the Gospel all the more jarring. Here, we have another king, Herod. His court is not filled with songs of praise, but with the dissolute music of a birthday banquet. His power is weak, swayed by a rash oath, the grudge of his unlawful wife, and the manipulative dance of a girl. Confronted with the truth by John the Baptist, Herod chooses not repentance, but imprisonment. When the moment of testing comes, he sacrifices the prophet’s head to save his own face. He believes that by severing the head, he can silence the truth. It is the ultimate expression of a worldly power that is, in fact, pitifully weak.

But the Church remembers today that this pattern does not end with John. Centuries later, on a hill in Nagasaki, Saint Paul Miki, a Japanese Jesuit, and his twenty-five companions were crucified for their faith. From his cross, Paul Miki preached his final sermon, forgiving his executioners. Like John, he lost his head—his life—for the truth. But like David, he never stopped singing the Lord’s song. The witness of his heart, united to Christ, could not be killed.

This is the great paradox we are called to embrace. The world may take our head—our life, our security, our reputation—but it cannot conquer a heart given entirely to God. David’s heart of worship is stronger than Herod’s hollow throne. John’s convicting voice echoes longer than the cheers of Herod’s court. The martyrs’ faith shines brighter than the fury of their persecutors.

For us, this is both a daunting challenge and an immense comfort. We may not face the sword, but we face daily choices to witness to the truth. Do we remain silent when we should speak for the Gospel? Do we compromise our integrity to avoid social or professional “execution”?

The martyrs teach us that the only thing to fear is betraying our own hearts, our baptismal calling. As Saint Oscar Romero, another martyr, said, “A Gospel that doesn’t unsettle, a word of God that doesn’t get under anyone’s skin… what kind of gospel is that?”

Let us pray for the intercession of Saint Paul Miki and his companions. May they give us the courage to live with David’s heart of praise, John’s fidelity to truth, and the martyrs’ unconquerable love, so that in life or death, our witness may remain steadfast, and our hearts may forever sing the song of the Lord. Amen.

May God bless you all!