For the past two weeks, the managers of this account of have been reading Shūsaku Endō’s Silence, a novel that chronicles the lives of European missionaries’ journey to a largely anti-Catholic Japan. The book is raw, haunting, and at times, saddening. Readers find not the typical hagiography of a martyred saint, but rather the frustrating relationship between man and God.
Two characters who emerge as ripe for examination are the story’s protagonist, Father Rodrigues, and a Japanese expatriate, Kichijiro. Kichijiro provides for the missionaries’ passage onto the island, but is often mysterious and concealed with his intentions.
Eventually, it is revealed that Kichijiro was once a Christian, but apostatized. Apostasy, in this dried-out Japan, is the cardinal sin of the fleeting Christian community. Being earmarked as an apostate, Kichijiro suffers terribly, banished from the Church. At the story’s turning point, Kichijiro betrays Rodrigues for a small sum of cash, and the apparent similarities between Judas and Kichijiro arise in the narrative. Rodrigues places himself in the figure of Christ and imagines that he now knows and shares in the suffering that Jesus felt at his betrayer’s hands.
And in his ensuing capture, questioning, and (spoiler alert!) apostasy, Rodrigues adamantly maintains Kichijiro’s guilt and his own blamelessness. Endō’s commentary on suffering, the silence of God, and the priesthood all lend themselves excellently for reflection, but I’d like to hone in on the closing episode of the story. After officially apostatizing, Rodrigues is approached by Kichijiro, who desires to have his confession heard. In the exchange, the following cosmic conversation occurs:
‘Lord, I resented your silence.’
‘I was not silent. I suffered beside you.’
‘But you told Judas to go away: What thou dost do quickly. What happened to Judas?’
‘I did not say that. Just as I told you to step on the plaque (and apostacize), so I told Judas to do what he was going to do. For Judas was in anguish as you are now.’
After this conversation with Christ, Rodrigues agrees to hear Kichijiro’s confession. Transformed, Rodrigues understands true sainthood. He is no longer bound by his previous notions of heroic martyrdom, nor casts evil glances toward his betrayer. Rather, he becomes united in Christ, understanding his own action was the Mouth of God, shouting loudly at those who tortured him. He is utterly emptied out of his own life, but he finds peace and solace there, knowing that he can now be full of the Spirit.
Where do I find myself in all of this? Does my pride falsely lead me to the sin of the martyr who seeks glory falsely? Do I betray others in my cowardice? Do I fear spreading the Gospel message? Have I closed my ears to the music of Christ?
Regardless, I couldn’t help reading this novel without coming to the conclusion that we need to be careful of how we portray the Saint. Indeed, life can be quite terrible, people can betray us, and the Ways of God are inscrutable. To assume that we ourselves are sure of the path to holiness is folly. Rather, we need to be cognizant to the Call of the Father, quiet as it may be, as direction for our journey to salvation.
𝘌𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘍𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳,
𝘞𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥. 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥.
𝘞𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺𝘳𝘴, 𝘊𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘝𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦.
𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘶𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦.
𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘯.
Catholicism Rekindled 