The Memorial of Saint Paul Miki and Companions
As is the fat when it is separated from the peace offering, so was David separated from the children of Israel. He played with lions as with kids, and with bears as with lambs of the flock. In his youth didn't he kill a giant, and take away reproach from the people when he lifted up his hand with a sling stone, and beat down the boasting Goliath? For he called upon the Most High Lord, and he gave him strength in his right hand to kill a man mighty in war, to exalt the horn of his people. So they glorified him for his tens of thousands, and praised him for the blessings of the Lord, in that a glorious diadem was given to him. For he destroyed the enemies on every side, and defeated the Philistines his adversaries. He broke their horn in pieces to this day. In every work of his he gave thanks to the Holy One Most High with words of glory. He sang praise with his whole heart, and loved him who made him. He set singers before the altar, to make sweet melody by their music. He gave beauty to the feasts, and set in order the seasons to completion while they praised his holy name, and the sanctuary resounded from early morning. The Lord took away his sins, and exalted his horn forever. He gave him a covenant of kings, and a glorious throne in Israel.
King Herod heard this, for his name had become known, and he said, "John the Baptizer has risen from the dead, and therefore these powers are at work in him." But others said, "He is Elijah."Others said, "He is a prophet, or like one of the prophets." But Herod, when he heard this, said, "This is John, whom I beheaded. He has risen from the dead." For Herod himself had sent out and arrested John and bound him in prison for the sake of Herodias, his brother Philip's wife, for he had married her. For John had said to Herod, "It is not lawful for you to have your brother's wife." Herodias set herself against him and desired to kill him, but she couldn't, for Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and kept him safe. When he heard him, he did many things, and he heard him gladly.
Then a convenient day came when Herod on his birthday made a supper for his nobles, the high officers, and the chief men of Galilee. When the daughter of Herodias herself came in and danced, she pleased Herod and those sitting with him. The king said to the young lady, "Ask me whatever you want, and I will give it to you." He swore to her, "Whatever you ask of me, I will give you, up to half of my kingdom."
She went out and said to her mother, "What shall I ask?"
She said, "The head of John the Baptizer."
She came in immediately with haste to the king and requested, "I want you to give me right now the head of John the Baptizer on a platter."
The king was exceedingly sorry, but for the sake of his oaths and of his dinner guests, he didn't wish to refuse her. Immediately the king sent out a soldier of his guard and commanded to bring John's head; and he went and beheaded him in the prison, and brought his head on a platter, and gave it to the young lady; and the young lady gave it to her mother.
When his disciples heard this, they came and took up his corpse and laid it in a tomb.
Saint Paul Miki and his twenty-five companions were martyred in Nagasaki in 1597, crucified for their Christian faith during Japan's persecution of the Church. Their courage in the face of death reminds us that faithfulness sometimes demands everything we have.
What strikes me most about these readings is the sharp contrast between true and false courage. King David faced Goliath with genuine bravery—not reckless confidence in his own strength, but trust in God's power working through him. John the Baptist showed similar courage, speaking truth to power even when it cost him his freedom and ultimately his life.
Then we have Herod, whose weakness masquerades as strength. He makes grand promises at his birthday party, swearing to give away half his kingdom. But when the moment comes to show real moral courage—to break a foolish oath rather than murder an innocent man—he crumbles. His fear of looking weak before his dinner guests proves stronger than his conscience.
We face our own versions of this choice regularly. Sometimes it's in small moments: do we speak up when someone makes a cruel joke, or do we stay silent to avoid awkwardness? Sometimes the stakes feel higher: standing by our principles at work might cost us a promotion, or defending our faith might strain relationships.
What I find beautiful about David and John the Baptist is that their courage wasn't about being fearless—it was about knowing what mattered most. David trusted God's faithfulness; John trusted God's truth. Both understood that some things are worth any cost.
Where in your life might God be calling you to show David's trust rather than Herod's people-pleasing? What truth is God asking you to speak, even if your voice trembles?