Silence

I think perhaps the title of the film, Silence (2016) ought to have been “The last Priest” because the main character, Rodrigues, is the last remaining Roman Catholic priest in Japan. His inner struggle is the core of the narrative, and of the theological/ethical dilemma to be resolved. The movie is set in Japan in 1640-1641. A Buddhist inquisitor, Mokichi, is torturing and killing Christians, who must step on a stove carving of Jesus as proof of committing apostasy (i.e., renouncing their faith). Taking it as proof, Father Rodrigues torments over whether to apostasy in order to save the Japanese Christians whom Mokichi is having killed serially until the priest renounces his faith. I submit that the assumption of proof rests on dubious grounds, so Rodrigues is actually faced with a false dichotomy.

When Fathers Garupe and Rodrigues arrive in Japan, Mokichi is already torturing and killing priests as well as lay Christians. As a Buddhist priest, he is a hyprocrite, for Buddha’s main object was to end suffering. The Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path are geared to the cessation of suffering. To be sure, Mokichi assumes that the peaceful ends justify his hypocritical means, but the amount of the film devoted to the suffering tells the audience that Mokichi is fine with inflicting suffering on an ongoing basis. The Buddha would have hardly recognized his follower. Jesus’ line to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” would likely apply.

By the time Rodrigues is captured, the inquisitor has decided that his old strategy of killing priests had not worked. So the last priest in Japan is spared, though not of undergoing the agony of severe suffering. Mokichi tells Rodrigues that the suffering of the Japanese Christians will end only when the last priest puts a foot on the stone carving of Jesus. The Buddhist priest is misleading in telling the Catholic priest, “You are responsible for their suffering.”

I fault Rodrigues for uncritically believing that he is not only causing the deaths, but also would lose his faith by being disloyal to Jesus merely by stepping on a stone carving. Mokichi is responsible for the torture and deaths because he orders it. Furthermore, stepping on a stone that has a carving that looks vaguely like Jesus does not count as the renounciation of a faith, unless, perhaps, that stone is treated as an idol, which is apostacy. All of the Christians in the film erroneously treat the carved engraving as an idol because they assume that by touching it in a culturally-derogatorily way, their own faiths will somehow be lost. A person can step on a stone and still retain beliefs and values, especially if they are valued as intensely as Rodrigues does in the film.

Rodrigues places a very high value on imitating Christ, especially in regard to the Passion story in the New Testament. It is almost as if the young priest wants to die because then he would be imitating Jesus. In watching the film, I had the sense that Rodrigues is even prodding Mokichi to resort back to killing priests so the last priest would feel the satisfaction of following Christ, going even as far as assuming an identity with Jesus. While drinking at a stream, Rodrigues’s reflection, which are through the priest's point of view, goes quickly back and forth between a picture of Jesus’ face to his own. It is then that Rodrigues is captured. It is also from about that point that he looks like Jesus (i.e., long hair and a beard). 

The identity does not hold, even in how Rodrigues would want to die if murdered. Jesus chose to die to redeem humanity from its distance from the Father due to prior sins. Humanity would not be redeemed from Rodrigues voluntarily or involuntarily being a martyr. The assumed for identity would thus constitute self-idolatry.

Furthermore, Rodrigues seems to reduce following Christ to dying as he does in the New Testament. Baptizing, preaching, hearing confessions are other ways, as are valuing and practicing self-giving love (i.e., agape). This sort of love can be practiced by universal benevolence, or neighbor love, rather than only or even primarily in being willing to give up one’s life for one’s faith.

Rodrigues does not have to give up his life; the Buddhist priest tells him as much. I would add, however, that Rodrigues does not have to give up his faith by stepping on a stone. The faith is in his heart, not on his foot or in the stone. That is to say, the stone does not have to be, and should not be, treated as if it were an idol having a religious significance. Rodrigues need not go through his internal turmoil as Mokichi continues to torture and kill Christians until Rodrigues relents and steps on the stone. In fact, common sense as well as Jesus’ teaching and example in preempting the suffering of others (e.g., the prostitute) should easily occur to a priest or any disciple for that matter. Step on the stone and people won’t suffer and die—doesn’t seem like a difficult choice as long as the Christian values Jesus’ teachings and lived-out (rather than dying) example. It is not necessary that Christians suffer; it is not something that Jesus demands, for he willingly suffers to take away the taint of sin.

Therefore, in being all too willing to die for his faith, Rodrigues overstates his own value in that regard, and is too willing to end his life too early. This is a criticism that Nietzsche makes of Jesus, but in that case the question of Jesus’ young age at death is relevant in the extent to which Christ vicariously sacrifices himself on the Cross—a sufficient sacrifice being necessary to appease the Father, who is offended by sin. Nietzsche seems to deemphasize this vicarious satisfaction in favor of the good Jesus does while alive on Earth. Ironically, in putting such an emphasis in faith with identifying with Jesus in dying, Rodrigues misses the opportunity to pay more attention to what Jesus preaches and does in his ministry as a basis for faith. In other words, valuing and attempting to practice universal benevolence, including to one’s detractors and enemies, can be a solid basis—more so than a stone—of faith. Not even the last priest can save humanity from its sins by dying in imitation of Christ.     

The Emperor: Above the Clouds of Petty Protocol

In complex social arrangements, such as exist in governments, business firms, and religious organizations, a person must climb through many levels before reaching persons of sufficient height and occupational breadth that what had been said to be binding requirements suddenly become as though unfettered butterflies. Astoundingly, the mid-level subordinates may even object as the rules are relegated back to their true status as guidelines. Beyond the element of greater authority, a greater perspective in terms of what truly matters is profoundly important in this regard. Having many decades of lived experience, plus a certain maturity in place of pettiness, is also in the mix. A Pope of the Roman Catholic Church, for example, may be more likely to pick up on a sincere heart of the sort Jesus would praise than run through a laundry list of doctrinal requirements. 

In the film Emperor (2012), religion and government are intertwined in the Japanese emperor, who was until shortly after World War II also officially a living god. Although his aides attempt to put General MacArthur into a straightjacket of protocol for the meeting with the emperor at the end of the film, both the general and the emperor are off sufficient maturity and perspective to disabuse themselves of the protocols and focus on the truly important stuff. To discern the petty from the profoundly important is a key feature of upper-echelon leadership.

In the film, Teizaburo Sekiya forewarns General MacArthur before the meeting with the emperor. “there are certain proprieties I’d better make you aware of. You may not shake His Majesty’s hand or touch him. You must never look His Majesty directly in the eyes. You may not step on his shadow. When you sit down with His Majesty, you have to sit on his left. You must never call His Majesty by his name.”

Upon greeting the emperor, General Bonner Fellers obeys the protocol, assiduously avoiding eye contact with the shorter man. General MacArthur begins likewise, looking above the emperor, and says, “It is indeed a pleasure to welcome you here, Your Majesty.” The emperor thanks the general, to which MacArthur thanks the emperor, making eye-contact with a warm-hearted expression and outstretching his hand. The emperor wears a confused look at first, but then gently shakes the general’s hand.

As if the general had not broken enough with protocol, he announces that he has arranged for a picture. The emperor motions to his aide not to object, and moves into position for the picture—the general standing on the emperor’s right.

After the picture is taken, the general announces that the translator is to stay but everyone else in the room is to go to the library while the general and emperor talk. Being excluded, and thus unable to enforce the protocol, Sekiya blurts out, “But that was not part of the plan.” The emperor says “Sekiya” in a way that lets his compatriot know that he is to comply with the general’s wishes. Only the general and the emperor appear aware of the political reality: the general rather than the emperor is running Japan. To the victor goes the task of rebuilding the foe.

The emperor takes his seat, with the general already seated to the left. The emperor then rises, and offers himself as solely responsible and as willing, therefore, to take all the punishment. “This has nothing to do with punishment,” the general replies. Even among two leaders in high places, one can lose sight of the truly important. The general had cut through the morass of thou shalt nots, which the lower and mid-level functionaries hold onto so tightly, to establish a sort of collegial intimacy that renders the two men much more alike than either to his respective subordinates.  Only at that high level can the sun shine above the clouds of minutia, such that eve the gods on Mount Olympus might be jealous of what man can accomplish. “I need your help,” the general beseeches with heart-felt concern for the emperor’s subjects as he looks directly into the man’s eyes. “So let’s see what we can do to get Japan back on its feet.” Both men doubtlessly know that this task lying before them is vitally important, as many Japanese are starving at the time.

The movie thus provides a good snapshot of organizational life being appreciably freer on the top floor and unnecessarily petty on the floors below. How to convince the narrow-minded gate-keepers that their levers are not so vitally important after all is a question in need of an answer. It is telling that Sekiya is so greatly disturbed by the general’s change of plan. MacArthur has used his experience wisely in not having argued with Sekiya as he promulgated the forbidden conduct; the general undoubtedly knew the true pecking order in Japan then, and that he could appeal directly to the emperor as both were unique having responsibility for the whole of Japan and thus would undoubtedly relate.