“When you suffer, I suffer with you. To the end I am close to you.”
Shusaku Endo’s
Silence came into wider recognition when the acclaimed filmmaker Martin
Scorsese made a movie based on the book in 2016, starring Andrew Garfield and
Adam Driver. Scorsese has called “Silence” his passion project, something that
he has working on since 1990. The end product is a movie that makes you wonder;
a movie where which makes you mull over the journey more so than on the
destination.
Japan has always
been an intriguing place to write about. Steeped with tradition, history and
violence, the ‘samurai’ culture has often enamoured readers, and watchers;
Japan, for all intents and purposes, is an esoteric place which has ignited the
imagination and cultivated a deep-rooted mysticism about the country which has
been explored by many authors.
Endo’s Silence
is set in 17th century Japan, a period of great religious and
theological turmoil in the country. It tracks the journey of two priests,
Sebastiao Rodrigues and Francisco Garrpe, who set out from Portugal to find
their mentor Cristovao Ferreira. The premise seems simple enough; it is the
overarching bend of theological thoughts and the violence that permeates across
Christians in Japan that takes centre stage.
The actions in
the book take place after the Shimabara Revolution, and highlight the
subsequent tracking and brutal torture methods applied on “Kakure Kirishitan”
(Hidden Christians). Hidden in small villages, unable and unwilling to let of
their faith and tracked like wild dogs by Japanese authorities hell bent on
ensuring that they apostatize or die, it is made clear from the very beginning;
the journey is going to be long, arduous and exhausting.
Rodrigues and
Garrpe enter this very Japan in search of their mentor, accompanied by
Kichijiro; who could have an entire book devoted to him. The fear is evident
from the very beginning; but so is their undeniable spirit and belief in their
faith; for Christian villagers take in these priests, and the story progresses
from there.
Silence is by no
means a mere religious book. It questions the very foundation of our
theological thought process, our beliefs and our faith, and makes us wonder how
iron-clad our ties to our beliefs are. In the face of adversity our true nature
is revealed. Is it weak to break? Is it weak to break when other lives are
dependent on you? Or is that you just consoling yourself, because you know you
are about to break? What is the threshold of our belief system? At what time,
does a tear appear, a crack opens up?
Rodrigues and
Garrpe’s travels are highlighted well; it is from Rodrigues’ eyes that we cover
half the story. We witness their fear and their frustration, their swaying
faith as the priests try to guide the path ahead for the hidden Christians. The
journey is long and dark; we witness as Japanese soldiers torture Christian
villagers; and kill them.
“If God does not
exist, how can man endure monotony of the sea and its cruel lack of emotion?
(But supposing….. of course, supposing, I mean.) From the deepest core of my
being yet another voice made itself heard in a whisper. Supposing God does not
exist…..”
These are
Rodrigues’ musings as he witnesses the torture and subsequent death of two
Christian villagers. The silence of God as His children die; how can He let His
children suffer, especially because of Him? It is a deep-rooted question with
little answer; we see through the entire book Rodrigues’ inability to come to
terms with his deafening silence, as he wrestles with his learnings and with
the harsh reality of life. As His children are cut open, beheaded, beaten up
and drowned, He chooses to remain silent.
“For twenty
years I laboured in the mission. The one thing I know is that our religion does
not take root in this country,” says Ferreira (he lives), to which an agitated
Rodrigues responds, “It is not that it does not take root. It’s that the roots
are torn up.”
Enduring faith
keeps Rodrigues alive. He prays and he listens, he eats and he prays. Fast
forward two centuries, and we read Friedrich Nietzsche write, “God is dead. God remains dead. And we have
killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers?
What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to
death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there
for us to clean ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall
we have to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we
ourselves not become gods simply to appear worthy of it?"
As moral and
philosophical quandaries go, this is the elephant in the room. As Japanese
Christians across the country are forced to apostatize or die in horrible
fashion, the question lingers in the air; a menacing, unfortunate and uncomfortable
one. The silence.
Endo’s Silence makes you think.
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