Fourth Friday in Ordinary Time
6 February 2026
Holy courage rooted in truth
Today the Church places before us a striking contrast:
holy courage rooted in truth
versus fear-driven power that collapses under pressure.
It is no accident that these readings accompany the memorial of Saint Paul Miki and his companions, martyrs of Japan.
The first reading from Sirach praises King David,
not as a flawless man,
but as one who understood something essential about God. David sins gravely later in his life, but here Sirach highlights his deepest strength: David knew where his confidence belonged. His victories did not come from numbers or strategy alone, but from praise, humility, and trust in the Lord. David’s greatness flowed from his willingness to acknowledge God openly, to sing before Him, to give Him glory before the people. Sirach presents David as a man whose authority was anchored in relationship with God, not fear of others.
The Gospel shows us the opposite kind of ruler.
Herod is a man in power, but he is deeply insecure. He knows John the Baptist is righteous and holy. He listens to him gladly. And yet Herod is trapped—trapped by his reputation, trapped by his guests, trapped by his desire to appear strong. When faced with a moment of decision, he chooses fear over truth.
Mark makes it clear: Herod does not want John dead. But fear wins. Fear of embarrassment. Fear of losing face. Fear of seeming weak. And that fear leads to injustice, violence, and the death of a prophet.
This is not just a story about Herod. It is a warning about what happens when authority is detached from truth. Power without conviction becomes dangerous. Leadership without moral courage eventually sacrifices the innocent.
That same warning echoes powerfully when we remember Saint Paul Miki and his companions.
Paul Miki was a Japanese Jesuit priest in the late 16th century, part of a growing Christian community in Japan. Christianity had spread rapidly, not through force, but through witness—through preaching, charity, and courage. But as political fear grew, Christians were seen as a threat. The faith that once seemed harmless was now viewed as dangerous.
Paul Miki and twenty-five others—priests, religious, and lay people—were arrested, tortured, and marched hundreds of miles to Nagasaki. Along the way, they were mocked, threatened, and pressured to renounce Christ.
They refused.
At the place of execution, Paul Miki preached from the cross. He did not curse his persecutors. He did not beg for his life. He proclaimed forgiveness. He proclaimed Christ. He proclaimed that there is no path to salvation apart from Jesus.
Here is the contrast the Church wants us to see today.
Herod silences the truth to preserve himself.
Paul Miki loses his life to proclaim the truth.
Herod is surrounded by power and privilege, yet enslaved by fear.
Paul Miki is bound and condemned, yet utterly free.
Sirach praises David because he understood that God’s favor matters more than human approval. Paul Miki lived that truth to its extreme conclusion. He did not seek martyrdom, but when the moment came, he did not flee from it either. His courage did not come from anger or defiance, but from love and conviction.
The Gospel confronts us with an uncomfortable question: What do we do when faith becomes costly?
Most of us will never face martyrdom. But we face smaller versions of the same choice every day. Do we remain silent when truth is inconvenient? Do we compromise when faith conflicts with comfort? Do we avoid witnessing to Christ because we fear how others will see us?
Herod shows us how easily fear can corrupt even good intentions.
Paul Miki shows us how grace can transform suffering into witness.
The martyrs remind us that Christianity is not sustained by power or popularity, but by fidelity. The Church grows not through coercion, but through the quiet strength of those who refuse to deny Christ—no matter the cost.
Saint Paul Miki and his companions stand as a reminder that the Gospel is always worth everything. And they pray for us, that when our moment of choice comes—large or small—we may choose truth over fear, and Christ over ourselves.