(Part 1 linked here: Film/Book Review: Silence [Part 1] - Torture & Doubt )
(Part 2 linked here: Film / Book Review: Silence [Part 2] - Where is the Place for a Weak Man, in a World Like This? )
Silence: Review [Part 3] - Apostasy & Faith
The Gospel of Judas was discovered several decades ago. Its origin and even its provenance is uncertain, and only 70-80% of the document seems to have been preserved but the central message is clear: Judas acted knowingly and according to the personal commands of Jesus Christ. Whether or not you believe that (was his subsequent suicide simply an inability to deal with the public shame among his peers? Why were none of the other apostles seemingly apprised of this plot?) there is a paradox: if Jesus’ primary mission involved his crucifixion at the hands of the Romans (and at the behest of Jewish religious authorities) then Judas was a helpful, even a necessary, instrument of that plan.
Remember that paradox, for it will recur shortly.
The Taking of Christ by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (circa 1602)
[Plot… continued]
Father Rodrigues is a well-treated captive in Nagasaki. Kijichiro is probably out getting drunk with his tainted silver. Father Guerpe is dead, drowned in the ocean as he struggled to save Japanese Christians who were bound and tossed into the waves.
Rodrigues is taken out of his cell (an airy and pleasant place, all things considered) and brought before the Japanese authorities. They are polite and solicitous, even appointing a translator so that none of the subtleties of his speech are misunderstood.
Throughout the film we have seen a small old man accompany the samurai, whenever they appear in Tomogi or Goto or outside Nagasaki. He seems to have some authority but he is friendly and reassuring to the villagers, telling them not to be afraid and asking the samurai to give them time before testing their faith. The old man sits in the row of Japanese interrogators, and when Father Rodrigues demands to be taken to the inquisitor, taken to Inoue, they all laugh. The old man is Inoue Sama.
The Grand Inquisitor, Inoue Sama (played by Issei Ogata)
Confronting the Apostate
Rodrigues is initially confused at his gentle treatment. He was expecting mortifications of the flesh and death by torture. Instead he’s brought to the beach… and watches Garupe die. He’s brought out before the Japanese authorities, and briefly questioned. Eventually he’s brought into Nagasaki… and finally meets Father Ferreira at a temple (Saishoji) where Ferreira says that he now studies daily. Rodrigues is appalled.
This is one of the strangest scenes in any film I have seen. The two men clearly have a deep personal bond of memory and affection… but Rodrigues is shocked and Ferreira seems saddened, even broken. During their encounter, it is revealed that Ferreira did indeed apostatize and is known as Sawano Chua now. We could imagine that Ferreira might have changed his mind, and happily joined Japanese society… but that does not seem to be the case. There is tremendous ambiguity in this scene but I believe that Ferreira broke under torture (and, as we shall see, the torture of others) and knew that he could never return to Catholic Europe. He settled into his new role as a minor VIP and a kind of pet intellectual of the Japanese regime (we’re even told he’s working on a book, Kengiroku, about “the errors of Christianity”) and is fairly content with his new station, but is still haunted by the shame of his apostasy, and is unhappy to confront a man from his past. His sadness and visible discomfort must be, I think, a symptom of his discomfiture at facing a fervent follower of the religion which he devoted decades to, as well as a former personal friend. He seems especially reluctant to talk about his anti-Christian book, despite being repeatedly prodded by the interpreter.
Nevertheless, we learn a lot from Ferreira. He shows Rodrigues a small scar behind his ear, a mark of his suffering in ‘the pit’, and explains:
This is from the pit. You are tied so you can’t move then hung upside down and the incision is made. You feel the blood running down your cheek drop by drop…. so it doesn’t run to your head and you won’t die too soon.
Rodrigues still seems to labor under the apprehension that Ferreira broke under the weight of his personal fear and pain. “It’s cruel, worse than any torture. To twist a man’s soul this way,” he says.
Ferreira makes his strongest appeal:
I have been in this temple for a year. I have labored in this country for fifteen years. I know it better than you. Our religion does not take root in this country…
[T]his country is a swamp. Nothing grows here. Plant a sapling here and the roots rot…
The Japanese only believe in their distortion of our gospel. So they did not believe at all. They never believed.
The Japanese cannot think of an existence beyond the realm of nature. For them, nothing transcends the human. They can’t conceive of our idea of the Christian God.
To which Rodrigues replies, “No! I saw them die! Those people did not die for nothing!” Ferreira: “They did not. They’re dying for you.”
With that, Ferreira seems to have achieved his purpose, and shifts, as if to leave. Rodrigues says “You’re only trying to justify your own weakness. God have mercy on you.” Ferreira replies:
“Which god? Which one?. We say... "Mountains and rivers..." I'm sorry. You haven't learned the language thoroughly, have you? There's a saying here. "Mountains and rivers can be moved. But man’s nature cannot be moved." It’s very wise, like so much here. We find our original nature in Japan, Rodrigues. Perhaps it's what's meant by finding God.”
Rodrigues says to him as he gets up to leave “You are a disgrace, Father. I can’t even call you that any more.” As he walks away, Ferreira says “Good. I have a Japanese name now. And wife. And children. I inherited them all from an executed man.” With that strange, self-deprecatory but still mocking concluding statement Ferreira leaves… and the final trial of Rodrigues’ soul begins.
The Test
At a remove not granted to Rodrigues we can begin to see the shape of his trial materializing as the story moves onward. It is not until the night of his test that it becomes clear to Rodrigues though. As Inoue says to him during one of their conversational meetings “the price for your glory is their suffering.” Inoue means to torture the captured Christians (who have, reportedly, already apostatized and endeavored to win mercy) before Rodrigues, to death if necessary. Their only salvation lies in Rodrigues’ public apostasy. In effect, Inoue has put the two greatest commandments (on which “hang all the law and the prophets” according to the Gospel) at odds: (1) Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. (2) Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. In order to consistently display his love and respect to God, Rodrigues believes that he should allow others (five captive Christian farmers) to die a horrible death. In order to save them, out of love, he must transgress his understanding of divine love and respect.
Fr. Rodrigues imprisoned with Christian farmers in Nagasaki
It is worth pointing out that the Japanese do not seem particularly interested in a sincere renunciation. The interpreter says to Rodrigues “you are the last priest in Japan. I’m sure that Inoue would like to retire the pit forever.” On the fateful night, as Rodrigues is confronted with the sight of 5 Japanese Christians bound and moaning and wriggling, their heads invisible beneath the ground, the interpreter says to him “it’s just a formality. Just a formality!” The authorities are afraid of the nascent influence of the church and its missionaries and have cleverly devised this means of precluding martyrdom and compelling priests and friars to publicly refute their faith (symbolically, at least) to forestall the further spread of Christianity.
Throughout the entire story we see Rodrigues as a loving and considerate man. He seems more gracious and demonstrative even than Garupe and he even repeatedly grants Kijichiro absolution (even after his betrayal!). We have some sense of the challenge this situation places him in. He is brought out of his cell, the fumie placed before him… and it is here that we hear the voice of God:
“Come ahead now. It’s all right. Step on Me. I understand your pain. I was born into this world to share men’s pain. I carried this cross for your pain. Step… Your life is with Me now.”
Epilogue
Dieter Albrecht, a Dutch trader, narrates the last minutes of the movie, which describe the years after Father Rodrigues’ apostasy.
The Inquisitor Inoue’s authorities would raid homes and seize objects of possible Christian significance. The two priests were required to examine these things and verify their use. Our ships were searched to warrant we were not smuggling religious objects. Even my surgical knives and bleeding bowl were closely examined. Neither foreign coins nor anything bearing the images of the cross, a saint, or rosary could pass. When Sawano Chuan died, the other priest assumed his duties and performed them with distinction. By this time, I observed he had acquired considerable skill with the language, and seemed, I must tell you, to be at peace with his situation.
Inoue visits Rodrigues occasionally to submit him before routine oaths of renunciation. At some point he announces that a man has died and Rodrigues will take his wife for his own. Kijichiro stays with him as a household servant. At some point Kijichiro privately asks Rodrigues to hear his confession. Rodrigues is alarmed and tries to dissuade Kijichiro… but assents. For the second time in the film we hear the voice of God:
Rodrigues: Lord, I fought against Your silence.
Voice of God: I suffered beside you. I was never silent.
Rodrigues: I know. But even if God had been silent, my life...to this very day...everything I do...everything I’ve done...speaks of Him. It was in the silence that I heard your voice.
Rodrigues is now an old man, known as Okada San’emon. He is married. When he dies, he is given a Buddhist service, and cremated, as the tradition suggests. We see his aged and hunched body in the wooden urn. Albrecht:
Okada San'emon himself was carefully watched. But I must relate to you, Fathers, that he never acknowledged the Christian God. Not by word or symbol. He never spoke of Him and never prayed. Not even when he died. Three guards stood watch over the coffin until it could be taken away. Just to be certain. Only his wife was briefly allowed to view the body. There was no indication that she wept… I believe you will have to accept, Fathers, that he was lost to God.
We see his wife approach with the folded Buddhist prayer, written on a piece of paper. She leans in to kiss Rodrigues, and deftly places a tiny object in his cupped hands. It is the crucifix given to him by one of the men of Tomogi, before his execution.
But as to that, only God can answer.
The End
Reflection #4-
In army basic training, the drill sergeants had a time-tested means of correcting error and rule-breaking. Transgress once or twice and you would be “smoked,” or made to exercise at an unpleasant pace until completely exhausted. The nature of these movements was such that any pace would tire a person. Imagine an exercise that would leave you winded and shaking after 3 minutes… and then doing it for 30. That is a “smoking”. However, in any barracks there are always 1 or 2 ‘all-stars’: the enlistees who simply cannot conform easily, either through antisocial personalities or forgetfulness or learning disabilities. There can be no outstandingly bad performance in a military unit: you must conform to the standard or you put everyone else at risk. To deal with all-stars the training cadre would force them to sit and watch while everyone else was smoked, sometimes for hours. Then they would turn the rest of the trainees loose on the unfortunate miscreant and we would exact our own vengeance: mockery, exclusion, physical beatings.
Humans are social animals and the urge to be a valued member of the group is incredibly strong in our species. It currently accounts for most of the insanity and error we see among the college-educated Left, for example (where almost every tweet or advertised position is really a status symbol, and nonconformity means vicious mass reprisals). Inoue clearly understand this element of humans: a good person would rather suffer himself than see the people he loves suffer before him.
Reflection #5-
I first watched Silence some 6 years ago, during a dark time in my life. It touched me greatly but did not occasion any ideological or religious shift (and it seems to have touched many non-religious people and given them a new and profound regard for Christianity). I have watched the film again and again and last year I finally read the novel, by Shusaku Endo. Nevertheless, the final impetus for me to write this review was actually a curiously potent point made by Slavoj Zizek: Christianity includes the only example throughout history in which God himself is briefly an atheist. He’s referring, of course, to Jesus’s cry upon the cross, shortly before he died: “Father… why have you forsaken me?” This is a perilous path of inquiry for the faithful but I don’t think it needs to be. After all, if Jesus was incarnated to “share men’s pain” (as the voice says to Rodrigues in Silence) then this should include all of the pain felt by humanity. This cannot only encompass physical pain and humiliation, by spiritual doubt and the profound sense of loneliness which often accompanies tragedy. Perhaps, within the Christian context, Christ needed to feel abandoned and alone to finally fulfill his purpose. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, this deeper examination of the nature of sacrifice and of faith is one which must accompany a thorough consideration of the Christian story. It is one which is provoked, with skill and pathos, by the climax of Silence.
Reflection #6-
Father Rodrigues paid the ultimate price for his faith. In his case it was not his comfort or his life, but his standing within the church and his public identity. His bravery lay in his willingness to transgress every law and norm of his culture and his religion in order to follow the dictates of God. It is not often that we conceptualize these as opposed… but this is, ironically, the same price that Christ paid (along with his life). It’s difficult for us to fully grasp how reviled one had to be to be crucified in the Roman empire but it was a penalty truly reserved for the scum of society. Crucifixions traditionally took place well outside the walls of the city, to allow the bodies to be dumped in mass graves or eaten by animals, and to symbolize the ostracism of the condemned from the polis. Christ was sacrificing not just his life by being crucified, but he was sacrificing (in the eyes of every person alive at that time) his reputation and his dignity.
The believers among us might wonder if they have the courage to give their lives for their faith. Would they have the courage to publicly betray their faith and live the rest of their days as an outcast, in a strange land? Would several sentences of comfort and encouragement from God and the knowledge that one was following the dictates of mercy and the true spirit of Christianity be enough to live out the rest of your many days regarded as a traitor by everyone you know?
The story of Silence is, perhaps, the best fictional exploration of Christianity which now exists and is the most compelling film I have ever seen.
Postscript: I knew I would miss or butcher certain subtleties of this story (Silence). I should be clear: in the BOOK we hear a rooster crow (a certain reference to Peter's betrayal of Jesus after his capture) and we do NOT see Rodrigues/Okada San'emon cupping a crucifix after his death. That is a Scorsese flourish (which I really love) but it's not in the original story. The book leaves things rather more ambiguous, asking whether or not Rodrigues was still actually a Christian, where the film focuses on whether or not Rodrigues's actions are justified within the Christian tradition (but establishes that he still believed).
If you want a rather different take on the film I recommend this brief reaction video by Bishop Robert Barron: https://youtu.be/5Th7Tiz1cEk?si=DgEMwz0HD5743VnP
James, congratulations on revisiting such a triumphant film, acted with such gusto, which raises more questions than it answers.
In literature and art, and in the modern world, on film, these issues of reconciling one's faith in God and all things unseen have roots dating back millennia. The added challenge of trying to explain all of this to people for whom it is quite beyond their understanding - that is what makes great art.
It doesn't matter whether it's a Roman tribune in the 1953 Hollywood blockbuster "The Robe," where the character, observing Christ's Crucifixion, is driven insane by guilt because he killed a man who was unjustly and brutally executed, The concept of Jesus to his followers was completely foreign to his pagan and pantheistic world of cynical nobility. Until he returns to Palestine and retrieves the robe that "bewitched" him, and lives in Galliee among those who knew Jesus and loved him, and believed in Christ as surely as they did - Christ lived to these people as surely as they did. The cumulative effect is the Roman's conversion - no spoilers here, but you're far too intelligent not to predict the Tribune's fate - bravely and courageously, with nary a scintilla of fear and doubt - much to his father, a Roman Senator fighting ardently to retain whatever was left of the Roman Republic against the ever-increasing tyranny of the Emperors.
I am also reminded of the 1984 television production, "The Jewel in the Crown," from Britain's Granada. In the post-war world, English ex-patriots have gone native as the British Raj ends, and the story is sweeping, but very thoughtful and nuanced. Among them is a Christian missionary, a woman of the British working class, eschewed and mocked by the upper crust who subject her to the worst kind of indignities ad nauseaum.A woman of unwavering faith and purity of heart, she questions God's plan and the purpose of her life's work. She is a captivating character that I have never forgotten. again, as was the case in "Silence" - faith, conversion, bringing the natives to Christ with doubt upon doubt upon doubt. Extraordinary in EVERY way, it was twelve-part series that is a MUST and something I KNOW you would find mesmerizing and unsettling - as you were, it seems, even though you appear to be in a far better place in your journey now than you were in 2016. The missionary woman endures a mental collapse and is admitted to a hospital on the eve of the Allies’ bombardment of Japan. A deeply thoughtful and kind young woman, the missionary’s sole confidante and the only individual to show her genuine compassion, visits her in the facility.
As the missionary seems to transition into another state of being, she remains silent towards her young friend. This silence prompts the friend to ponder, “Perhaps God does hear you; He just hears in silence.” This reflection echoes Rodrigues’s sentiment, “I pray but I am lost. Am I just praying to silence?” It also resonates with the Inquisitor’s proclamation, “The price for your glory is their suffering!” and with Jesus’s voice during the exchange with Rodrigues. Despite God’s silence, Rodrigues affirms, “I did your work, Christ.” And it is in this silence that he recalls hearing Christ’s voice.
It sounds like you had a profound experience watching this film, especially with the contemplative atmosphere that Easter brings. It’s wonderful that you’re open to gaining a new perspective from it. Films that delve into the depths of the human condition often offer new insights with each viewing.