Religion: A Pilgrim for Peace

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When the Pope arrived in Tokyo, there were no military bands or honor guards to greet him. But John Paul dazzled many with his well-rehearsed and easily understood Japanese, his grasp of Asian history and his untiring willingness to belt out Polish folk songs on a handheld mike and dance with kindergartners at a Tokyo youth rally. In Nagasaki, the historic center of Japanese Catholicism, the crowds were larger: 47,000 stoically endured a freak February blizzard to attend an outdoor Mass. Eventually more than 300 people had to be taken to first-aid stations because they were suffering from exposure to the cold and wet snow.

Catholicism was first brought to Japan in 1549 by the Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier. It swiftly took root in a few places among the Buddhist Japanese. By 1600 there were nearly 300,000 converts. But the church's fortunes soon ebbed. Four thousand of the new Christians were martyred in Nagasaki and elsewhere. Some were decapitated, some executed in scalding-hot springs by shoguns and local lords. The ruthless persecution continued over the centuries. Officials forced suspected believers to tread on Christian images. In some places an annual oath renouncing Christianity was obligatory. One reminder of the past: at least 7,000 kakure Kirishitan (crypto-Christians) persist even today in practicing an odd form of Catholicism, just as their ancestors had to do in order to preserve their faith.

The most controversial event of the three-day visit was a 45-minute meeting with Emperor Hirohito, 79. Rabid right-wingers, distressed that Hirohito, a former Shinto god, would deign to meet with a Vicar of Christ, rode about town waving a sign proclaiming POPE IS A BEAST. Some of Japan's 700,000 Protestants protested the meeting as well. The Pope's visit, they felt, would en courage a resurgent movement to elevate Shintoism to status as a national religion. About 70 others, including left-wingers, four Japanese Catholic clergy men and some Buddhist priests, accused John Paul of consorting with a "war criminal."

For all that, when the two met in the Bamboo Room of Tokyo's stone walled Imperial Palace, Hirohito graciously told the Pope, "Japan a long time ago was benefited a great deal by the Catholic missionaries, who brought their culture to this country." There are still many missionaries. John Paul had a tearful meeting with one, an 87-year-old Franciscan and fellow Pole named Zeno Zebrowski, who is famed for creating at least 30 of what are called "ant towns," communities for the poor based on selfhelp.

John Paul left Nagasaki with the new Japanese nickname of Yuki Otoko (Snowman) and flew to equally chilly Anchor age, where he celebrated an outdoor Mass and took a 90-ft. fling at driving a sled drawn by nine rambunctious huskies. "This was great," said the Pontiff. Then off again, up over the North Pole and back to Rome. To the faithful who braved the Nagasaki blizzard, John Paul had said good-naturedly, "It's good for the faith." So, apparently, was the taxing 20,500-mile journey by the most traveled Pope in history.

—By Richard N. Ostling. Reported by Wilton Wynn with John Paul II