Start hereā¦
Fave Randos
One
At last our departure is only five days away. We have absolutely no luggage to bring to Japan except our own hearts. (p 47)
Nice thought, but it turns out no luggage is definitely not the same as no baggage!
Two
I realised only too clearly that the wretch had deliberately made me eat the dried fish. (p 129)
This triggers Fr Rodriguesās messiah complex with recollection of Jesusās own words on the cross - āI thirstā. The irony is that Jesusās words can also be read figuratively (ie for the salvation of the world) whereas Fr Rodrigues simply glugs down the water āgreedily and shamelesslyā (p 130). The fish is an ancient symbol of Christianity, though, rather poignantly, a cryptic one for avoiding detection during times of persecution. However galling or unwitting, Fr Rodrigues has swallowed this desiccating mission and must learn in his guts what this will mean for his own salvation and that of his betrayer.
Three
Early on in their mission, Fr Garrpe cautions Fr Rodrigues with the following words:
ā¦donāt forget that we are the last stepping-stones of the Gospel in this country. (p 66)
It may simply be a matter of translation, but given all the fumie trials to come thereās exquisite irony and pathos in the choice of āstepping-stonesā.
Four
If Iāve read it right, Fr Rodrigues is thirty-three years old when he endures his cryptic martyrdom. The age, by tradition, that Jesus was crucified.
Five
How the pious formalities of the opening two letters (pp 33 & 49) fall away (pp 60 & 84).
Six
The butterfly carcass metaphor (p 240).
Seven
The fact that a novel about medieval Jesuits written by a man influenced by Jesuit mission is imagined in a similar way to the Spiritual Exercises of St Ignatius of Loyola, the principal founder of the Jesuits.
Chinmoku
Lastly and rather fittingly, a little etymology and a brush with aesthetics. The Japanese title for Silence is chimmoku or chinmoku (ę²é»). Itās a composite of chin (ę²) which carries the idea of sinking, submerging, or settling, and moku (é») which indicates a state of quietness or not speaking. Hence, silence in Japanese isnāt perceived as something monolithic, negative, or a void to be filled. The root behind the English word doesnāt quite equate, meaning something more like stilling, slowing, quietening, or ceasing. More like cessation of previous activity. It doesnāt quite recognise silence as a worthy state in itself, or even a superior one.
I donāt recall encountering a formal aesthetic of silence in āWesternā culture though something of it is obviously present in the meditative production of Orthodox icons and the often stark beauty of Carthusian chapels. But itās heavily there in Japanese culture, influencing various artistic expressions as well as customs and communication. An obvious example would be the haiku which purposefully contains linguistic breaks (kireji - reflective of ellipses, dashes, hanging question marks, exclamations) not wholly dissimilar to some of Emily Dickinsonās poetry (eg From Blank To Blank). But itās there also in traditional music where sometimes the sounds are conceived as serving the intervals (ma) not vice versa, and in fine art in terms of evocative canvas space, and in martial arts in the intensifying stillness before a strike of deadly precision. The Japanese tea ceremony is a fine example of the ritualisation of silence which serves to communicate graciousness through considered action with something like a monastic aura.
Why am I exploring all this? Well, obviously, being Japanese, Mr EndÅ makes use of this richer expression in his story. In other words, silence is not a problem to be solved but is, rather, a transforming experience. The perceived silence of God is not, in truth, something to be feared but embraced. Inner emptiness is the wellspring of enlightenment. Thereās a conceptual and cultural collision between āEastā and āWestā in the story and something like a tentative synthesis of, or symbiotic tension between, these respective visions (Inyo) in the concluding silence of Fr Rodriguesās own character.
Conclusion
With the conversation drawing to a natural close and our seventh round slowly slipping down, Mr EndÅ and I swivel stools to face the restless sea. Its tidal song is gentle and rhythmic even as its skin blushes with the light of a new day. A deep sense of gratitude fills my heart. For this precious time in his company and for all he achieved in words. So too for all I have learned from him about story writing and its power to express otherwise inexpressible mysteries of faith. But, above all, for reminding me to embrace the many silences of existence, especially those necessary for a relationship with the living God.
A solitary seabird drifts quietly overhead, returning upon the faintest breeze to this Land of the Rising Sun. Soon the seaās eastern reaches are all boiling gold as the first sigh of tender heat greets us. We smile at one another with gilded faces, knowing that words now rightly rest in nightās repose. All about, the world is slowly waking. An incoming saturation of sound. We tilt forward and embrace warmly. Then, in not quite straight lines, we wander away, back into our respective everyday, and deeper into the sacred communion of silence.
Photo by Hiroyoshi Urushima on Unsplash
Interesting about the translation of the original title and the subtle variations in meaning of "silence." As much as Iove reading works in translation, it's frustrating to think how much of this nuance is lost along the way. Much food for thought!