Silence and the suffering Christian

Often regarded as a controversial piece of literature, Silence by Shusakū Endō addresses apostasy in a haunting and troubling way. The fictitious novel written in 1966 depicts the persecution of Japanese Christians in the 17th Century, focusing on a Portuguese Jesuit priest named Rodrigues who journeys to the island to tend to the flock. After his eventual capture (spoiler alert!) he is forced to watch Japanese Christians suffer; to save them, he must renounce his faith by trampling the fumi-e, a carved image of Christ. The main question of the novel, raised in its latter half, is whether Rodrigues will allow the torture of others to stay true to the faith or comply with the state and renounce his faith to save them.  

 Please be warned of the brutal nature of this book. It is certainly not an easy, comforting read, but a challenging and formative one. Rodrigues depicts his struggle with the silence of God in his prayer, crying out to our Lord, asking how he could be so silent in the face of such turmoil. Rodrigues is met with spiritual dryness and silence. He continues to pray, but says, “I did pray, I kept on praying. But prayer did nothing to alleviate their suffering.”  

How often do we beg God to speak, and are met with seemingly nothing? How often do we pray feverishly for a cause only for no miracle to occur? Does this lead us to question our God, even momentarily? Do we doubt our Savior in his silence?  

Like Job, we often cry out in our adversity for the mercy of Christ. If God allows that suffering for reasons unknown, do we abandon him? Or do we allow the suffering and pain to be the “kiss of Jesus,” as St. Theresa of Calcutta explains: “Suffering, pain, sorrow, humiliation, feelings of loneliness, are nothing but the kiss of Jesus, a sign that you have come so close that he can kiss you.”  

For the sake of not spoiling the book, I’ll allow the reader to discover what path Rodrigues chose. But whether our suffering is that of martyrdom, of grief, of exhaustion, of sickness, or any sort of sorrow—do we let our God kiss us, even when it hurts? Do we lay the pain at the foot of the cross? Most challenging of all, can we accept God’s will even if he allows our pain to continue? Or, like countless great saints, can we allow even the darkest of trials to sanctify us?  

Many saints endured periods of unfathomable suffering and seemingly unanswered prayers. St. Theresa of Calcutta endured decades of spiritual dryness and silence. St. Monica prayed feverishly for the conversion of her son for years before her prayers were answered. The 12 apostles witnessed Christ’s death and endured his absence for those three long days, unsure of how the faith would continue. The list goes on and on.  

What made them saints is that they clung to God in these periods. They didn’t turn away, believing God turned his back on them. They knew that each horrible, dark thing can be made beautiful by one simple divine touch.  

Can we endure in the silence? Can we keep our feet planted at the foot of the cross, handing every sweet and bitter thing to Christ? Even when all seems lost, can we trust in our Lord God and his plan? 

“Faith flourishes in the dark: trials, temptations, spiritual dryness and suffering are all opportunities for our faith to grow stronger. We can, of course, neglect these opportunities and allow our faith to wither and die. But those who praise God in life’s difficulties will experience the opposite effect.” –St. Mary Magdalene de Pazzi