The Silence of Christ

(SPOILER WARNING: This article refers to climactic plot points in Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence.)

I am a pessimist by temperament and as I observe a world in which living consistently with one’s Catholic beliefs becomes more and more difficult, I ask, “Why is Christ silent amidst the persecution of His Church?” I have been advised to keep hope, to look at God’s past victorious interventions in human events, and to not rule out the possibility of future similar victories (or, to use J.R.R. Tolkien’s term, eucatastrophes.) Still, from the perspective of the present, it is hard not to wonder why an omnipotent God will not manifest His omnipotence to vindicate His persecuted children.

The same question has been asked in Shusaku Endo’s novel Silence. Set in Japan during the height of anti-Christian persecution in that country, the novel grapples with themes of faith, martyrdom, and the apparent failure of the Christianity to take root in Japan.

Throughout the novel, Fr. Rodrigues, the novel’s Portuguese protagonist, witnessed members of his flock – ordinary Japanese Christian peasants – being martyred. Finally, towards the end of the novel, he himself was arrested.

It was night time before dawn. Fr. Rodrigues was being urged to apostatize by trampling a fumie or a holy image, in this case a crucifix. In the background, he could hear the groans of Christians who were being executed by being hung upside down. Fr. Ferreira, a priest who had already apostatized, disclosed the real reason he did it:

‘The reason I apostatized…are you ready? Listen! I was put in here and heard the voices of those people for whom God did nothing. God did not do a single thing. I prayed with all my strength; but God did nothing.”

Fr. Rodrigues attempted to ignore Fr. Ferreira, but to no avail. The novel describes Fr. Rodrigues’ struggle:

“The priest shook his head wildly, putting both fingers into his ears. But the voice of Ferreira together with the groaning of the Christians broke mercilessly in. Stop! Stop! Lord, it is now that you should break the silence. You must not remain silent. Prove that you are justice, that you are goodness, that you are love. You must say something to the world to show that you are the august one.”

Meanwhile, Fr. Ferreira continued entreating Fr. Rodrigues:

“When I spent that night here five people were suspended in the pit. Five voices were carried to my ears on the wind. The official said: ‘If you apostatize, those people will immediately be taken out of the pit, their bonds will be loosed, and we will put medicine on their wounds.’ I answered: ‘Why do these people not apostatize?’ And the official laughed as he answered me: ‘They have already apostatized many times. But as long as you don’t apostatize these peasants cannot be saved.’”

Crying, Fr. Rodrigues admonished Fr. Ferreira that the latter should have prayed. Fr. Ferreira said that he did, but also that prayer did nothing to alleviate the suffering.

Fr. Ferreira continued tempting Fr. Rodrigues by appealing to his pity for the other Christians. Finally, Fr. Rodrigues’ will broke. He agreed to trample the fumie:

“The priest raises his foot. In it he feels a dull, heavy pain. This is no mere formality. He will now trample on what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he believed most pure, on what is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man. How his foot aches! And then the Christ in the bronze speaks to the priest: ‘Trample! Trample! I more than anyone know of the pain in your foot. Trample! It was to be trampled on by men that I was born into this world. It was to share men’s pain that I carried my cross.’

The priest placed his foot on the fumie. Dawn broke. And far in the distance the cock crew.”

Many readers, especially Japanese Christians, were understandably indignant at the way events in the novel unfolded. I myself find the depiction of Fr. Rodrigues’ apostasy disturbing and for this reason, I prefer Endo’s other novel on the anti-Christian persecutions in Japan, The Samurai.

But, while keeping in mind that Endo was writing literature and not theology and that, therefore, any theological conclusions from his novel must be assessed critically, I derive comfort from the reminder that amidst the persecutions of the Church from without and the betrayals of Church members from within, Christ suffers together with his suffering faithful. It consoles me to remember that Christ remains with the Church even in Her defeats, even when these defeats seem to be brought about by Her own members.

The novel Silence does not end with Fr. Rodrigues’ trampling of the fumie . In the last chapter, Kichijiro, a Japanese Christian who had repeatedly apostatized and repented several times in the past, approached Fr. Rodrigues – who, strictly speaking, was still a priest and one of the rare priests available at that – and asked him for the sacrament of Penance, which Fr. Rodrigues administered. Here we have a reminder of a Church which, while struggling and apparently failing, has not ceased to be a channel of God’s grace for sinners – even if she carries the treasure of God’s grace in vessels of clay.

It is sometimes, indeed, hard to see Christ present in His Church when we see Her kicked around by the world and the forces of darkness. The victory that Christ has already won over evil through His death and Resurrection sometimes seems so unreal. At these moments, a Christian must remember that what matters is to be with Christ – whether at His glorious Transfiguration at Mt. Tabor, or at His shameful apparent defeat at Calvary.

Meanwhile, we must keep our hope in His final victory. For He Himself said that He has overcome the world. And we will one day see Him victorious. But not yet.