Where
Is God in the 'Silence'?
RADICAL LIFE
Many
years ago, I read Shushaku Endo’s novel “Silence.”
Endo tells the story of two young Portuguese priests who travel to Japan to
discover what happened to their mentor, who disappeared during widespread
persecution. What they encounter strips them spiritually bare and plunges them
into a world of suffering, denial, and despair.At the time, “Silence” was disturbing for me. I could not disassociate myself from the story. The Christ I knew and loved was not hidden. He was there, front and center, silent to the suffering of his most passionate children. But in “Silence,” the heroes who placed their lives on the line were filled with doubt and fear. They cried out to God. Where was He? Why was He silent?
When I finished the book, I threw it across the room.
The story, as told by Endo, would be absurd, if it were not true. When
missionaries arrived in Japan in the mid-16th century, Christianity quickly flourished,
with estimates of 300,000 Japanese believers. Almost immediately, local edicts
were passed to rid the country of the foreign religion. The Tokugawa shogunate
banned Christianity in 1620 and the church went underground. The brutal
persecutions continued until the populace was essentially cleansed of
Christians.
Martin Scorsese’s film version of “Silence,” almost three decades in
the making, closely follows Endo’s book. Father Sebastiao Rodrigues (Andrew
Garfield) and Father Francisco Garrpe (Adam Driver) convince their superior to
allow them to travel to Japan to discover the truth about their mentor, Father
Cristavao Ferreira (Liam Neeson). Rumor has it that he apostatized—denied his
faith in Christ—and is no longer serving as a priest. In fact, it is said he has
taken a Japanese wife.
The men are concerned the rumors about his apostasy could damage the
belief of many in Portugal, where Ferreira was well-known for his courage and
conviction. Naively, Rodrigues and Garrpe think they can uncover the mystery of
Ferreira’s fate. If the rumors are true, the two priests could restore Ferreira
to faith, or at least mitigate the damage by serving in his
stead.
Leaving the comfortable security of Europe, they arrive in Japan and are
plunged into a world of horror. They are met by a small group of believers who
hide them from the eyes of those who could report them. The two set about
ministering to the Christians, but eventually news of their presence makes its
way to the inquisitors. Soon, the Christians they serve are faced with torment
and execution.
The brutality of the persecutions is difficult to watch. Many episodes of
torture in the film may rightly be considered redundant, but Scorsese’s passion
for the original source is relentless and he conveys it faithfully. The
religious environment is pitiless. Anyone found in possession of even the
smallest religious trinket is suspect and forced to publicly admit his or her
rejection of Christianity by placing a foot on an icon of Christ. If the person
refuses, torture and death await.
The two priests split up and are ultimately captured by the inquisitors.
Rodrigues, thinking that he would vindicate his faith by martyrdom, discovers
the chief inquisitor never intended to kill him. “We learned from our mistakes,”
he tells Rodrigues. “Killing priests only makes them stronger.” When Rodrigues
claims the victims around him “didn’t die for nothing,” the inquisitor replies,
“No, they died for you.”
The agony of Rodrigues’s guilt and uncertainty are difficult to bear as
he realizes he alone has the power to stop the suffering of others. All he must
do is put his foot on the face of Christ.
Andrew Garfield plays the lead character with surprising depth. His
boyish looks and soft voice contrast with the stark suffering and pain he
endures, intensifying the sense of despair.
The outstanding key portrayals of the chief inquisitor (played with
almost humorous eccentricity by Issei Ogata) and the constantly confessing
Kichijiro (Yôsuke Kubozuka) solidly anchor the film in a believable Japanese
culture. The visuals are sometimes mesmerizing, with the South China Sea coast
of Japan providing a stunning backdrop for many of the early
scenes.
Scorsese’s passion for Endo’s book makes the film lengthy (two hours and
41 minutes). But he is not giving us a film for popular entertainment. The film
has a captivating, almost arthouse cinema atmosphere. Liam Neeson revealed the
reverence that accompanied the filming by noting the sets were always quiet even
with as many as a hundred crew members actively filming a
scene.
Some critics have complained there was no comforting resolution to all
the suffering moviegoers must endure. But that is the point of the story. Scorsese
desired to capture the
central message of Endo’s work: “It is this painful, paradoxical passage—from
certainty to doubt to loneliness to communion—that Endo understands so well, and
renders so clearly, carefully and beautifully in Silence.”
At the end of the book and movie, Christ speaks to Rodrigues: “I
understand your pain and your suffering. It is for that reason I am here.”
Rodrigues replies, “Lord, I resented your silence.” Christ responds, “I was not
silent. I suffered beside you.”
Endo’s understanding of God comes from a culture grown in the soil of
Buddhism, where the first noble truth is “Life is Suffering.” The Buddhist
concept of suffering is meant to convey the experience of life in the material
world: “dissatisfaction, impermanence and
imperfection.” To a culture steeped in this basic belief, the Western
Christian refrain, “God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life” rings
hollow. Instead, Endo’s understanding of God and the message of Christ is “Life
is suffering. God came and suffered with us and for us.”
These points make Scorsese’s “Silence” the antithesis of most contemporary
films of faith which tend to follow a “we have problems, God intervenes,
problems solved” boilerplate. While this can provide comfort for some, the
reality for many Christians around the world is God does not seem to intervene
at all. We hear echoes of David’s cry, “How long, Lord? Will you forget me
forever? How long will you hide you face from me?” (Psalm 13:1) God’s silence
can be unsettling and frightening.
Interestingly, Endo’s first title was not “Silence” but “The Scent of the
Sunshine (Hinata no Nioi).” “I did not write a book about the Silence of
God,“ he
said. “I wrote a book about the voice of God speaking through
suffering and silence.”
“Silence” forces us to think about the quality and even reality of our
own faith. Most of us have lived our faith in a world of comfort. Imagine living
in a culture where you are forced to watch others suffer unless you deny Christ.
How would you respond? Is it really a test of faith to place your foot on a
picture of Christ to stop the torture and murder of fellow believers? What if it
was your family?
Peter’s denial of Christ to a young woman seems rather tame compared to
the horrific choices Rodrigues faced. We sometimes forget that our faith was
forged in the fires of such defeats. “On the night He was betrayed” is how Paul
describes the evening of the Last Supper.
Betrayals and denials are difficult to observe, let alone accept. I think
this is why I threw the book across the room. I wanted the book to portray
courage and victory, or at least defiance and sacrifice.
The next day I retrieved the book and dismissively replaced it on the
shelf. But I was unable to dismiss the images, the sorrow and, yes, even the
hope. I have since read all of Endo’s novels that have been translated into
English. Not one of them disappoints. And like them, Scorsese’s masterpiece will
cultivate substantive discussions about faith and faithfulness to Christ in our
fallen world and renew our hope in His promises.
Dr. William
Brown is the national director
of the Colson Fellows Program and senior fellow of worldview at the Chuck Colson
Center for Christian Worldview. A respected leader in Christian higher
education, he is former president of Bryan College and Cedarville University..
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