How 'Silence' Explores God's Mercy
A reflection on Shūsaku Endō's book and Martin Scorsese's movie adaptation
In Matthew’s Gospel, Peter asks Christ how many times he must forgive his brother. His initial, limited view of only seven times is vastly expanded by Christ who responds, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven.” And while literally the math equals 490 times, Our Lord does not see forgiveness numerically — but infinitely.
His mercy, thus, is wide. Yet, once forgiven, Jesus commands the absolved to “Go and sin no more.” This command is echoed in the Sacrament of Reconciliation, which is depicted more than any other sacrament in Shūsaku Endō’s Silence and, subsequently, Martin Scorsese’s 2016 faithful film adaptation.
Mercy is central to the faith. However, both the book and film make its audience wonder: can God truly forgive those who have rejected Him? Can we determine what truly lies in the silence of someone’s heart?
This spiritual battle confronts Jesuit missionary Sebastião Rodrigues who journeys to Japan’s ‘black soil’ to uncover whether the rumors of his former teacher’s apostasy are well-founded. Upon his arrival, the priest is initially doubtful of the Japanese Christians’ true understanding of their shared religion, studying how they gravitate toward religious objects and their simple views on Heaven (no taxes, no pain). He even sees them as lowly — with bad breath, yellow teeth and terrible living conditions. In truth, Rodrigues is arrogant, placing his suffering above the Japanese who are brutally persecuted for the faith (in horrifying fashion), as well as the weak Kichijirō — who he views as Judas. To him, Kichijirō is an annoying figure, pestering the priest for absolution for repeatedly renouncing the faith to save his own life.
After witnessing the execution of several Japanese, Rodrigues begins to see martyrdom’s true nature: unglamorous, cruel, and demented — crushing his initial perception of glory. He begs for the people to apostatize to save themselves from torment, but to no avail. The suffering rattles his spirit, and God’s silence is deafening to him. He longs to hear His voice for guidance and miracles, though they appear unanswered.
Not far into the story, Kichijirō fulfills his Judas-like betrayal, leading the authorities to the last Catholic priest in Japan. Throughout his imprisonment, the priest compares himself to Christ on the road to Calvary, vocalizing his spiritual fortitude to his captors and, even, to Ferreira — who has indeed apostatized and now lives as a Japanese. Rodrigues scolds Ferreira for abandoning the Church’s mission in Japan to which the latter protests, stating the Japanese have contorted God to their own ways (i.e., the Christian God is not the same as who the Japanese perceive as God). Ferreira and the story’s antagonist, Inoue (a Japanese authority) tell the Jesuit Japan is not suitable to Christianity — comparing the nation to a lord who rejects concubines, representative of foreign nations, as well as a swamp, where no sapling can grow. Ferreira also tells his pupil the Japanese are not dying for God — revealing most actually apostatize to avoid torment — but for Rodrigues, once again displaying an ignorance of the faith.
Nevertheless, Rodrigues refuses to apostatize; he still sees the face of Christ on the prison walls (in the film, this is depicted as Jesus in the Veil of Veronica). This changes one night where the imprisoned Rodrigues cannot stand the ‘snoring’ any longer of a guard, nor can he comprehend God’s prolonged ‘silence.’
When he pleads for the guard to stop sleeping, the Interpreter — another Japanese official luring the Jesuit to apostatize — is confused for the truth is much darker: the sounds were not snores, but the groans and wails of Christians hanging in the pit. It is at this moment, Rodrigues realizes his own ignorance and, even, arrogance — that he was not alone in suffering for the faith (or in his own Garden of Gethsemane).
However, he can stop their pain. The apostatized Ferreira councils his student to act as an intercessor, to be merciful — for God will not save them. At this moment, the fumie (a board depicting Christ) is brought forth. All Rodrigues must do is step on it and renounce his faith. The Interpreter seduces him saying that Rodrigues doesn’t have to believe it, but only perform the ‘formality.’ Yet the priest understands clearly the act is more than a simple gesture that will set captives free. He would be rejecting “what he has considered the most beautiful thing in his life, on what he has believed most pure, on what is filled with the ideals and the dreams of man.”
Then finally, after pleading for God to speak to him, he hears His voice — and it calls him to ‘trample.’ The voice continues, “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.”
Whether the voice is God or Satan luring Rodrigues into sin is debatable. Both the book and film never provide a clear answer. Nevertheless, Rodrigues obliges. Then a cock crows. He lives the rest of his life in Japan, assuming a Japanese name, taking a wife, while repeatedly recommitting to his apostasy and assisting the government in rooting out Christian symbols smuggled aboard Dutch trading vessels. Even the locals refer to him as the Apostate Paul (though, outwardly, he appears more like Saul persecuting the Church before his conversion on the road to Damascus).
The final priestly act he performs is hearing Kichijirō’s confession. Though he perceives the absolution as sacrilegious, nonetheless he hears the confession and recognizes the two souls are rather similar. Forgoing his ego, here he hears God’s voice once again, consoling him, “I was not silent. I suffered beside you.”
The book also provides no answers whether or not Rodrigues lived the rest of his life silently observing the faith. The film hints at a more clear perspective, but never fully reveals Rodrigues’ heart. However, both relay how Kichijirō is imprisoned once more for having Christian iconography. He disappears from the story with the audience left wondering if he renounced the faith again or suffered martyrdom. Kichijirō may seem more like Peter than Judas for, unlike Christ’s betrayer, the Japanese Christian strives for forgiveness. And even more so, throughout the novel and film, he is absolved three times — the same amount of times Peter denies Christ. Meanwhile, the audience does not know whether Rodrigues seeks forgiveness or if he has committed a proverbial spiritual suicide, more akin to Judas.
Though the story is troubling by having the priest reject his priestly vocation that is welcomed by Christ (at least in Rodrigues’ mind), Endō’s Silence provides an interesting exercise than if Rodrigues suffered true martyrdom. It makes us wonder — how merciful is God? How merciful are we to our own brothers and sisters? Can even the apostatized priest be forgiven?
In truth, every time we sin, we place our foot on the fumie, rejecting Christ like Peter and Judas in the Passion. Yet, no matter if it’s seven or 490 plus one, God seeks us and suffers with us. It’s why the Sacrament of Reconciliation is vital in our spiritual lives: we must make the effort to not only reflect upon and confess our sins (i.e., humbly recognizing we are fallible, yet redeemable), but we must strive to ‘go and sin no more.’ We cannot be arrogant in thinking we are above our fellow man in righteousness, for we are all lowly — dependent on God for our salvation from this mortal coil. Nor can we avoid suffering or confronting the world’s cruelty.
What the book rightly states is that Christ suffers with us, and He became man to absolve mankind’s sins. To emulate God, our own mercy must be wide.
We only need to humbly persevere and listen in the silence of our hearts to hear His voice.
Appendix I: The film adaptation is truly faithful to the novel in most aspects. The cinematography is reminiscent of an Akira Kurosawa film — especially working with layers within a frame and utilization of mist. The performances are mostly well done, mirroring the character’s dilemmas in the book. It also captures the severity of the persecution in gory, horrifying detail. It makes one wonder how committed we are to the faith, and how that faith — whether living in comfort or under persecution — is universal. If you enjoy the novel, you will most likely enjoy the film.
Appendix II: I also recently read Endō’s ‘The Samurai,’ which takes place around a similar time period and deals with themes of martyrdom, the universality of the faith, and the faith in Japan. Like ‘Silence,’ the book is based off of real events (which the author dramatizes). It’s a good read, although much longer than ‘Silence.’ I’d recommend reading both as a compare and contrast.
Our Lady Help of Persecuted Christians, pray for us!