It’s a new year and each time January brings a mixture of hope and anxiety. We have hopes for 2026, but we carry unresolved worries, unanswered questions, and fears that did not politely stay behind in 2025. The readings for today come at the right time.
In the Gospel, the disciples are doing exactly what Jesus told them to do. He sent them ahead in the boat. And yet obedience has not spared them fear. They are exhausted, battered by the relentless wind and just can’t make any headway – sound familiar? Then they are confronted with something they cannot interpret: Jesus walking toward them on the sea. This is way out of their comfort zone; they think it is a ghost and are terrified. We know those moments when we are out of our comfort zone and the unexpected initiates a fear response. Fear distorts perception. Like the apostles, when we are afraid, even the saving presence of God might be perceived as threatening. What is meant to help us can feel like something that will overwhelm us.
At the start of 2026, maybe our fears are not as dramatic as the apostles – maybe they are. Great or small, the fear, the uneasiness we might sense is real:
fear of instability in the economy, the end-of-January potential shutdown of the government, inflation, and more;
fear of illness, aging, or decline – those small aches and pains that no longer resolve themselves;
fear of loneliness, being misunderstood, or left behind – our friends moving, passing away, or in their decline, no longer recognize us.
Fear that a loved one has reached the end of their earthly life.
…name the fear that lurks in your life. We all have them.
Like the disciples, we are rowing hard and making little headway, and we wonder what’s next.
It is into these moments that Jesus speaks – then and now: “Take courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”
Those words, “It is I,” are not casual reassurance. In the Greek they echo the divine name — “I AM.” Jesus is not simply saying, “It’s okay.” He is saying, “God is here.” The One who comes toward them across the chaos is not a ghost, not an illusion, not a threat, but the living presence of God entering their fear. Notice that He does not shout instructions from a distance. He gets into the boat. And only then does the wind die down.
That is crucial for us. God does not usually remove our fears by eliminating all danger or uncertainty. He removes fear by sharing our vulnerability. Love steps into the boat. This is exactly what the Letter of John names so clearly: “There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear.”
Fear is sinful or a sign of weak faith. Love does mean never feeling afraid. Jesus tells us something more realistic and more hopeful: fear loses its power when we allow ourselves to be loved and when we choose to love in return. Think about it: fear makes us close us in on ourselves. We become defensive, cautious, and suspicious. Love does the opposite. Love opens us up and makes room for others. Love steps into the boat even when gale winds continue and the wave unrelenting. Love is what can make fear loosen its grip.
We don’t have to love perfectly or fearlessly. It is enough that we love faithfully. It is in the active decision to love that we become free and more easily live a life of patience, generosity, forgiveness, and hope. Our vision clears and we recognize Christ in our midst and in others.
Maybe a prayer for our mornings might be, “Lord, get in the boat with me. Still the storms or at least give me the courage to not need to control, but to love freely. Your presence is stronger than my fear.”
Christ stilling the storm on the Sea of Galilee | Ludolf Bakhuizen | 1695 | Indianapolis Museum of Art | PD
At the end of the previous post, a question was posited: “How did the currents of history bring the U.S. and Japan to this point in history when sanctions and an embargo were the final domino that moved the flames of war to become the firestorm that was the Asia-Pacific War from December 1941 until September 1945?” There is a lot of history upstream of the 1930s and 1940s to consider, but when one reads widely about the period, one recurring topic is China. Japan seemed to be possessed by an inexorable attraction for China. Look at a modern map of China and compare it to a map of East Asia in 1940. Japan occupies all of Manchuria (while trying to pass it off as the independent nation of Manchukuo), has encroached southward into what the Japanese called “mainland China” or simply “China.” Japan also controls virtually every major port along the South China Sea, East China Sea and the Yellow Sea. Meanwhile in the interior of China, Japan controlled vast areas to the Northeast and set up collaborationist regimes, with the Nationalist (KMT) government under Chiang Kai-shek and a loose affiliation of local war lords retreating to the interior and the Communists fighting from their bases to the Northwest. It created an incredibly complex military and political landscape.
If the Japanese were interested in securing the flanks of their advance to the oil and resource rich areas to the south, it would seem diplomatic means and mutually benefiting treaties and agreement would be more efficient and economical. But when one looks at the arc of history between the two nations it tells the tale of an apprentice who grows up and seeks to dominate the one who was once master. And so, in this post, I will attempt to paint with the broadest of strokes and cover 2,000 years of history between the two nations. There will be gaps, a lack of historical details, and a rash of broad assertions trying to summarize periods of the history. But the purpose is to place the 20th century conflict in a large current of regional and world history.
In the beginning
The Japanese archipelago was largely inhabited by the Jōmon people who were hunter-gatherers. During the 1st millennium BC, the Yayoi people migrated to Japan and quickly became dominant. There are different theories as to their origin: Korea or different parts of China, but what is clear is that they brought rice farming with them, beginning a slow transition from a hunter-gathering period to an agrarian society. If one took a snapshot of Japan in the 3rd century (AD), it would largely be an agrarian society. The people (known variously as Wajin or Yamoto) were marked by settled farming (largely rice), metal tools and metallurgy learned from mainland Asia, the development of fortified villages, early social stratification where accumulation of wealth through land ownership and grain storage fostered social hierarchy, and all the elements for later more developed social and political structures. Over time, as with most cultures, the politics moved from clans to chiefdoms, but without centralized government. But by 300 AD Japan experienced the rise of powerful regional leaders. The history of this period is thin, but the legends are plentiful.
The first recorded encounters, taken from Chinese dynastic histories, describe Japan (Wa) as a group of polities engaged in tribute and trade. It was clear that China was in the dominant position as the Japanese leaders sent tribute missions to Chinese courts to gain prestige, acquire recognized titles, and especially to gain access to advanced technology and knowledge. The Chinese character 倭 denoted the nation and the people of Japan. It translated to “dwarf” – which as you can imagine did not find favor with Japan who replaced it with 和 “harmony, peace, balance”.
Nonetheless, unwanted moniker aside, Japan gained writing (Chinese characters), bronze and iron technologies, and the introduction of Confucian ethical ideas. In the mix and middle of all this It is noteworthy that Baekje (one of the ancient three kingdoms that form Korea) often acted as a main intermediary. Its geographical location allowed it to trade with China and Japan and made it the natural route from Japan to the heart of China. Baekje’s contribution to Japanese culture is notable in pottery and Buddhism.
In what is known as the Yamato and Asuka Periods (6th–7th centuries) there was an active effort on the part of the Japanese to learn Chinese models of statecraft. Japan adopted and adapted centralized bureaucracy, legal codes and a calendar system. Students were sent to study administration, law, architecture, and religion but one can see the first movements of the apprentice beginning to rise. Records reveal correspondence asserting Japan’s dignity and implying an equality with the Chinese Emperor.
Part of that insistence is likely related to the idea of the Japanese Emperor. Legend holds that the first was Emperor Jimmu believed to have been born around 711 BC on the island of Kyūshū. He is said to be a descendant of the sun goddess Amaterasu. Most modern scholars regard Jimmu and the nine first emperors as mythical. Emperor Sujin, the 10th emperor, may have been a real historical figure, but even then the reach and reign of control was likely very regional and not across the entire archipelago.
In any case, in the early 8th century, known as the Nara period, was the age when the Emperor began to exert control. Administrative, civil and criminal codes were introduced (Ritsuryō), the land was organized into Provinces and Districts, and a caste system was introduced. The city Nara was the first urban population center. It had 200,000 residents – approximately 7% of the nation. The Nara period was the high point of Chinese influence. At this point Japan was fully embedded in the East Asian order with all traces of subordination to China largely gone.
By 894 AD, Japan stopped official missions to China. The Chinese Tang dynasty was greatly diminished, the Japanese were confident in their own institutions, and Chinese knowledge was considered acquired and was beginning to be considered “classical” rather than current/modern. For the next 800 years or so, until the late 16th or early 17th centuries, the relationship was largely trade with occasional moments of diplomacy when one side or the other wanted something. When China was in the ascendancy, it required Japan to become a tribute state in order to trade. When Japan was in the ascendancy, it left the tribute status. But in the big picture of East Asia, for thousands of years, China had been the intellectual, economic, military, and political center of East Asia.
During the Edo Period, things changed – and not for the better. On the Korean peninsula an internal reconfiguration of power led the Korean Emperor to become a tribute state to China – but as the most favored state – now a virtual part of China. Meanwhile, by the last decade of the 16th century, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the most preeminent daimyo, had unified all of Japan, bringing about a period of peace. Hideyoshi was not emperor or part of the imperial lineage (and that is a complicated story, best left to others) but he was a “man with a plan.” He planned to invade China, in effect attempting to claim for Japan the role traditionally played by China as the center of the East Asian international order. As relayed to Jesuit missionaries, Hideyoshi spoke not only of his desire to invade China, but also subjugating the smaller neighbouring states of the Ryukyu Islands (Okinawa), Formosa (Taiwan), and the Philippines.
This was the first evidence (I found) of a Japanese vision of supreme leadership of East Asia. If the metaphor of apprentice-master once had meaning, that was no longer true. From this point in history, China and Japan are dedicated rivals.
Hideyoshi’s first international action was to invade Korea. He tried to solicit the assistance of Portugal, to no avail. Nonetheless he started what became known as the Imjin War, a series of two Japanese invasions of Korea. The first was in 1592 with a brief truce in 1596, and a second invasion in 1597. The conflict ended in 1598 with the withdrawal of Japanese forces from the Korean Peninsula after a military stalemate in Korea’s southern provinces. This period is interesting in that it sets a pattern: unified government, warrior culture dominated society (samurai), a reasonable naval force was available, and a vision of regional leadership as ordained by the gods – and in the background was the Imperial line, descendents of the sun goddess Amaterasu.
While still in the Edo Period, now post-1600, Japan stabilized internally during the Tokugawa shogunate. This ended the period of expansionism, but also restricted diplomacy. China remained a cultural source but no longer considered politically superior. The Tokugawa shogun initiated policies designed to limit the access of the word to Japan. The collection of policies issued between 1633 and 1639 are known today as Sakoku which essentially translates as the “locking of the country.”
And so remained the nation until Admiral Perry sailed into Tokyo Bay.
Image credit: various photographs from Naval Aviation Museum, National World War II Museum, and US Navy Archives. Top image generated by WordPress AI on Jan-526
This coming Sunday we celebrate the Baptism of the Lord. 14 John tried to prevent him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and yet you are coming to me?” 15 Jesus said to him in reply, “Allow it now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness.”
Righteousness (dikaiosýnē) is a complex concept rooted in the Hebrew ṣedeq-ṣĕdāqâ and mišpāṭ. In short, as used by Matthew, dikaiosýnē refers to right conduct before God. This is the consistent usage in Matthew. Jesus is baptized so as to do what is right with God (3:15). The hungering and thirsting of 5:6 is for a right state before God. Yet this righteousness is God’s gift (6:33). It is to be sought with his kingdom. It brings persecution (5:10). It includes the practice of piety (6:1). The way in which the Baptist came is that of right conduct (21:32).
Boring (Matthew, New Interpreters Bible, 160) comments on the phrase:
Both righteousness and fulfillment are key Matthean theological themes. Righteousness here means, as often elsewhere, doing the revealed will of God. Here, fulfill seems to mean simply “do, perform,” and the meaning is that it is necessary for both John and Jesus to do God’s will, which includes the baptism of Jesus. The plural “us” links John and Jesus together as partners in carrying out God’s saving plan (11:2-19).
The First Temptation of Christ. Brian Stoffregen has an interesting insight about righteousness as “do, perform” what God requires of us.
John, by trying to prevent the baptism, tempts Jesus not to do all that God requires of him. He tempts Jesus to assume his proper position now: to be the more powerful one; to baptize with the judgmental Holy Spirit and fire; to meet John’s need. I don’t think that these are too dissimilar to the devil’s temptations that occur immediately after the baptism (4:1-11) — temptations for Jesus to use his power now, for his own glory; and avoid his emptying and eventually the pain and suffering of the cross.
What does God require of Jesus? Is it just the baptism? I think that baptism is only part of the picture of Jesus identifying with sinful humanity: the Sinless One is baptized for the forgiveness of sin; the Holy One eats/fellowships with unholy sinners; the Immortal One dies on a cross as a criminal. It is part of the emptying of himself — the God who becomes truly human.
In fact, the “emptying,” occurs even earlier in Matthew. We have been told that the child has been conceived from the Holy Spirit. We have been told that “Jesus” will save his people from their sins. We have been told that he will be called “Immanuel” — God is with us. What happens to this very special child after his birth? He has to flee for his life. The one, who will save his people, has to be saved from Herod. The one who is “God-with-us” has to flee from the Promised Land. He (and his parents) are acting as people who have been emptied of power.
This thought is highly reflective of Philippians 2:6-11 in which Jesus empties himself “becoming obedient to death, even death on a cross.” This passage from Philippians strongly echoes Is 53:12 which speaks of the “Suffering Servant” of God – one who does what is right before God and thus fulfills all righteousness.
Image credit: The Baptism of Christ, Juan Fernández de Navarrete, “El Mudo” | Museo del Prado, Madrid | Wikimedia Commons | PD-US