On an otherwise inauspicious Sunday morning in Hawaii, my paternal grandfather arrived early to church to set up chairs for the worship service. He recounted to me once a decade ago how they heard the drone of planes overhead and found it odd that fighters were out that early on a Sunday morning, only to hear the air raid warnings and sounds of attack shortly thereafter. He was assigned to serve in the Japanese Mission as a missionary and sent to Hawaii only a few months before that rueful day, and he spent about three years preaching the gospel of Christ specifically to persons of Japanese descent in Hawaii. With our president traveling to Hiroshima in order to be "historic" rather than doing his job, I thought it prudent to pay homage to my paternal grandfather who really was a hero and a leader and a man who loved Japan. Of course, he served his country in the armed forces of the United States. I know from his stories and the people I met that he served valiantly as a man and as a missionary, continuing to teach until his dying day. He also took care of Japanese people he met as a consequence of his missionary service and took care of them as Jesus taught us.
Grandpa John finished his missionary service in 1943 when the Hawaiian/Japanese mission was officially closed. Almost immediately thereafter, the army drafted him, and he completed officer candidate school becoming a 2nd Lieutenant in the infantry. Once he confided in me that his greatest reservation was that he might have to kill a Japanese soldier. After having spent three years teaching the people of the Pacific Rim about Jesus, forgiveness, and repentance, it pained him to think he might consign any of their souls to hell, killing them before they were prepared to meet their Maker. I was on my way to visit him the day he died, and my grandmother gave me some of his military things to care for before the rest of the family arrived despite the fact that my father was his only military son. Despite his reservations, my grandfather heard and heeded the call to serve, following MacArthur into the Phillipines and then serving until V-J Day before returning home and getting back to work.
When the war ended, my grandfather went back to the life he intended to lead. Since the war interrupted his educational plans, he returned to the city of his birth and got a job. He married a fine woman, started a family, and helped build a community. Like on 7 December 1941, you could find him any day doing what duty demanded. He always made sure there were enough chairs. He arrived early and stayed late. He kept his word. He continued to teach about Christ and advocate for the articles of Faith he advocated as a missionary. After returning home, he kept in touch with the individuals with whom he served and with the people whom he taught. Many people benefitted from his teachings in an ecclesiastical capacity, his example in the Boy Scouts of America, and his perspective. The attendees at his funeral attested to the value of his input and the contributions he made to community and country. Every time I called or visited, every time we held a family reunion, every family gathering, he shared a thought intended to teach or reinforce principles he espoused. Although his final words to me seemed strange to "Say hello to all the pretty girls on campus" I realize now he knew that my best chance to find a companion was among the educated, the energetic, and the student body, because that's where teachers spend their time in contact with other people, and he cared about my fortunes.
I knew growing up that Grandpa John had a soft spot for Japanese people and knew many of them well, but it came as a surprise to walk into his funeral to see some of the ones in attendance. During his mission and after the war, my grandfather reached out to relatives of those he knew, some of whom were orphans, and attempted to nurture them in America. Some of them became leaders of the Faith, leaders of industry, and political figures, and a few of those came to pay their final respects to a mentor. My grandfather barely eked out an existence, but I know from seeing this that he stored up sheaves in heaven. They were the people he loved. I know my grandfather had his faults, but he truly came to see these people as children of God, and of all the peoples of the earth of differing backgrounds, if I had brought home a Japanese girl as a fiancee, I think my grandfather would not have even noticed any differences from us. He didn't need to go to Hiroshima to apologize or bow to the potentate of a foreign state. Instead, he took on their posterity and nurtured them. In many ways, my grandfather was Mr. Miyagi to the Daniels he met in his life, however reversed the roles might seem. We never really understood how much they meant to him until he died, but he made sure they knew while keeping it secret from us.
We are taught that good men do their alms in secret and that hypocrites cry out in the streets. Well, the world is full of hypocrites who draw attention to themselves and paint a picture of false beneficence while men like my grandfather quietly and inauspiciously do what Jesus taught us to do. Sure, he had his shortcomings, but the time he spent with the Japanese people brought out the very best in him, and because of that he brought out the very best in them. Grandpa John did his duty, and civil dignitaries recognized that, paying their respects at his funeral despite his humble economic state. He did his duty as a father, as a husband, as a disciple of Christ, and as a neighbor, teaching correct principles and then letting people govern themselves. I am personally grateful for his service among and love towards the Japanese people, and when people rip them for whatever bizarre proclivities practiced by portions of Japanese society, I remember his love for them and wish I saw any nation, kindred or tongue as he saw the Japanese. I find it interesting that, despite the horrors and ravages of war, and despite his own forced hand participating in that war as an infantry officer how much he loved those people. He didn't need to go to Hiroshima or apologize in public or lick boots or bow. He ministered unto them, bringing them to America, bringing them to prosperous lives in the wake of ruinous war, and bringing them to Christ through his words and example. My grandfather was a hero who went to the Japanese not to lecture them but to lift them.
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