Back To Rome - St. Catherine of Sienna - Apostleship of Prayer

St Louis de Montfort (4/28/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer

Bishop Barron on “The Case for Christ” // Movie Review

He Descended into Hell (4/15/17) Apostleship of Prayer

Bishop Barron on Palm Sunday

A reflection from 2012 by then Fr. Barron on Palm Sunday.

The Gospel - Matthew 27:11-54 (Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion) From CCTNtv

The short version of today's Passion reading from Matthew's Gospel.

Lent 2017, So Far

The Fifth Sunday of Lent is a line of demarcation of sorts. I'm pretty sure I've mentioned this before somewhere, but in the pre-Missal of Paul VI days it was actually Passion Sunday, when the account of our Lord's death was proclaimed during the Gospel. The following week was Palm Sunday when we remembered Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem, and everybody who came got palm leaves. The reforms of Vatican II conflated these two observances into what we have now, with the reading of the two Gospel passages, the blessing of palms, and the proclaiming of the Passion narrative in parts. 

In spite of this change, the readings, prayers and preface of the Mass used from here on in reflects the old practice. We are moving away from general admonitions to repent - encouraged to of pray, fast and give alms to help us in this ongoing project of conversion (though we should still continue them). We will now be reading of the controversies that led directly to our Savior's death. We are also asked to use the preface for the Passion of the Lord during the Mass in the last ten days before the Triduum. Some parishes and shrines still cover up their statues, according to the old practice. In these days we are asked to enter more intensely into the mystery of Jesus' suffering and death. 

I'm going to take this moment of thematic shift, then, to make a public self assessment of my Lenten observance so far. 

I once again took on the daily Holy Hour as my main Lenten penance. I don't do it every year, but I felt called to renew my efforts this time around. Not that an hour before the Lord in prayer is punishment, but the only practical time to do it is either very early in the morning or very late at night. It means an hour less sleep, which is where the sacrifice comes in. The door bell rings in this place, sometimes from 7:00 in the morning to 9 or 10 PM, in the extreme. To try to fit a Holy Hour in during some other time of the day invites the risk of being interrupted. So early morning it is.

I was faithful the first four weeks, from Ash Wednesday until the Fourth Sunday, but travel back and forth from meetings threw me off, so this week has been hit and miss. So I'm focused on making these last two weeks before Easter count.

What is different this year than in past attempts at making the Holy Hour, is that staying awake and focused has been more of a struggle. It's never easy, but most mornings I'm fighting to stay awake, with the normal 15 minute Rosary taking as much as 25 or 30 minutes: not because I'm in ecstasy but because I'm barley conscious at times. 

In the past I would face these obstacles and give up after a few days. But I have come to appreciate that these road blocks are invitations to perseverance. Rather than saying to myself, "This must be the wrong path because God wouldn't ask me do something I'm not getting anything out of," I see it as Jesus asking me: "How much do you love me? Are you only willing to spend the Hour when it's easy and seems rewarding?" He essentially asked the same of  the Apostles on Holy Thursday Night in the garden. I'm certainly not better than they, and shouldn't be surprised that I'm subject to the same weakness.

My failure this time around wasn't so much out of discouragement, but an inability to adapt to a change of schedule, and then I didn't take advantage of opportunities during the day I did have to make the Hour up. It still would have been difficult, if not exactly impossible to have gotten the Hour in on my "travel day," but the other misses were clearly on me.

The other thing I've noticed is that, while I still experience the same sense of calm and emotional equilibrium I always do when I keep the Holy Hour, I'm also becoming more aware of my short comings. I see more clearly how I'm deficient as a Christian, a Salesian and as a pastor of souls. I feel the Lord calling me live the commitments of my life more faithfully, and offer my sufferings in reparation for my sins and those of others. I don't feel condemnation, but encouragement in the midst of that holy unease the Lord sometimes plants in our souls to keep us from getting complacent. 

So, to sum up, if you're finding your Lenten penance difficult or even unrewarding: good. What ever we do should be challenging, and we should only expect the reward further down the road. If you faltered at some point, don't give up. Take some time, but not too much (over thinking things can be as bad as not thinking at all), to figure out why - then get back to it. If you prayed over your penance ahead of time or, better yet, worked it out with a spiritual director assume it's from God and keep on moving. God knows we're probably going to fall, but He doesn't want us to stay down. 

So, two weeks from today we celebrate Easter Sunday. May all of us make a good finish of Lent, spent a holy Triduum, and be ready to rejoice at the celebration of our Lord's Resurrection.  

Christ's Call to "Renew My Church"

In a pivotal scene from the 2000 historical drama 13 Days, which chronicles the behind the scenes maneuverings during the Cuban Missile Crisis, it's been discovered that a Russian cargo ship has slipped passed the United States Navy's blockade of Cuba. In the War Room the Secretary of Defense, Robert McNamara, is overseeing what is officially being called a quarantine, keeping his eyes on the admirals and generals, who he and President Kennedy suspect are itching for an excuse to start a shooting war with the Soviet Union. When he overhears an admiral give the order to fire upon the ship, he quickly intervenes and a shouting match erupts between the two. The officer informs McNamara that they were firing warning flairs, not shells. It's implied that the Secretary is in over his head and should leave them alone to do their job - the Navy has been running blockades since the days of John Paul Jones, proclaims the frustrated admiral.

McNamara informs the admiral that it is he who is out of his depth, not seeing that President Kennedy is actually engaging in an entirely new form of military diplomacy designed to avoid war while protecting American interests. He says, as he points up to the big board tracking the ships:

"This is not a blockade. This is language. A new vocabulary, the likes of which the world has never seen! This is President Kennedy communicating with Secretary Khrushchev!"

I was reminded of this scene recently when I attended a day of reflection and prayer for parish staffs and volunteers here in Chicago (Cicero, to be exact). Cardinal Blase Cupich has begun an initiative of reorganizing the parishes of the Archdiocese which is called Renew My Church. The symbol of the initiative is the San Damiano Cross, in front of which St. Francis prayed, and from which Jesus spoke to him, telling the Saint to "Rebuild my Church." The Church in Chicago doesn't need to be rebuild, but like the Christian community of all times and places, we need to be renewed in the Spirit so as to be more effective evangelizers for today. We are at "Phase Zero," at this point of the initiative, as the facilitators put it. We are to get together with the other parishes in our groupings, get to know each other, and maybe engage in what is being called "soft collaboration": maybe holding joint processions or social out reach programs before the formal implementation of the groupings over the next several years. These moments of reflection were opportunities for the members of the various parishes to come together and begin the process.

I was reminded of this little episode from the movie, not because there were any dramatic confrontations at the two sessions I attended, far from it. But that at times I felt that the questions being asked from the floor, while reasonable, were missing the point. Participants were asking what plans the Archdiocese had for things like ecumenical outreach, vocation recruitment and bringing fallen away Catholics, especially young people, back to the Church. Again, all valid concerns. But Renew My Church is not a pastoral plan in the traditional sense, where the orders come down from the Pastoral Center to the parishes, and it's up to each place to check off a list of predetermined tasks. It very much is a new language, spoken with the vocabulary of subsidiarity and shared responsibility. The question isn't what is the Cardinal is going to do, or what plan does the Archdiocese have, but rather how are our parishes, working in concert as opposed to isolation, going to address the challenges faced in their neighborhoods and towns.

This doesn't mean that the Pastoral Center doesn't play a vital role in the life of our local church. Cardinal Cupich has already begun reorganizing the the bureaucracy of the Archdiocese, streamlining the central offices while putting more staff into the vicariates, to help the parishes where they live. In many ways he is following Pope Francis' lead of decentralization. The Cardinal, like the Pope, gives us the big picture scenario, but it will be pastors, their councils, volunteers and parish groups who will see, judge and act according to the needs on the ground. 

Cardinal Cupich is well aware that there is a crisis in both vocations and young people leaving the fold. He is personally involved with ecumenical efforts, especially with the Islamic community. But who knows your parish community better than you? Who knows your children better than you? Who knows the ecumenical landscape in your area better than you? At the same time, we may know that something is wrong, but don't know how to address the issues. Or, we have been doing things the same way for so long that we really don't see what's going on beyond the church parking lot, or that it has anything to do with us. This is where the Archdiocese, under the Cardinal's leadership, can assist the local parish groups to formulate and execute a plan to fit their situation. 

This won't be a quick or painless process. People are worried about the future of their parishes, and that's understandable. One person Tuesday night asked where the money from any potential parish land sales would go, and even though he was reassured that any proceeds from real estate deals stay with the local community, I don't think the questioner believed it. But again, while an understandable question, it still misses the point. The purpose of the groupings isn't to close and merge parishes. That may be a byproduct of Renew My Church, but it's not the goal. The goal is to get parishes working together, sharing pastoral resources, working to their strengths. A parish that has a strong religious education program can pick up the slack for ones that may be weaker in that area. Another with a developed social outreach initiative can take the lead for the group with that. It will mean forming intentional disciples of Jesus Christ, who have a real friendship with Him, and are dedicated to leading others into relationship with the Savior. 

Renew My Church will only succeed in the long run if we all have a change of mentality, and this will not be easy. Bishops and pastors needs to take a good part of the blame if the faithful find it hard to trust. For too long bishops and pastors have been positioned as regional executives and middle managers in what George Weigel calls "Catholic Church, Ink," with he pope as CEO. Clerics became seen as professionals instead of ministers of the Word and Sacraments.  The perception still is that pastors are always asking for money, and leading fundraising efforts rather than serving as spiritual guides. Pope Francis is trying to break that image, getting back to the model of bishops and pastors as fathers and teachers of the Faith, first and foremost. This is the Scriptural and patristic image of the bishop, as well as the vision Vatican II called the Church to recapture. The role of administrator of the goods of the Church will always be an important part of what bishops do (it's in the Bible too), but the first job is to guide the flock with a shepherd's care, binding the spiritually wounded, calling back to stray, building bridges to the world. They are the first animators in that mission to make disciples and lead people into friendship with Christ. 

This is what Cardinal Cupich is proposing. It's the vision of Pope Francis translated to the reality of Chicago. It's the vision of the Church as an evangelizing force on mission, not an institution to be maintained, with the parish and new groupings serving as the launching pads. It's an ambitious program, but one that can be implemented with openness to the Spirit, who wants to teach us a new language with a vocabulary that speaks of intentional disciples in deep friendship with Jesus, on fire with sharing the Good News of salvation. 

St. Patrick: Virtue of Temperance (3/17/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer

Between the Desert and the Mountain Top

The First and Second Sundays of Lent offer us contrasts in style and substance. This past Sunday we heard from the Gospel according to Matthew about Jesus in the desert being tempted by Satan. Jesus is weak and vulnerable after 40 days of fasting. The devil tries to appeal to His desire for physical sustenance, as well as higher aspirations for power and prestige. All these temptations were meant to distract Jesus from His mission, derailing it before it even started.

This Sunday coming up we will hear from the same Evangelist about the Transfiguration. Far from presenting us with the seemingly powerless man in barren places, just keeping it together in the face of trials, we see Jesus the Christ, the Son of the living God. He is manifested in Glory, as He will be known in the Resurrection. The three Apostle witnesses, Peter, James and John see Jesus in a dazzling vision, with Moses and Elijah by His side. Moses represents the Law, Elijah the prophets: together they represent the Old Testament that foretold the coming Messiah. This vision, powerful but short lived, is meant to give these three pivotal disciples hope, a memory they can latch on to when the horror of the Passion unfolds, and they are themselves tempted to lose hope.

In many ways we live between these two realities in the Christian life. We may not always be in the desert, thirsty and hungry for God's presence, rather we may find that most of life is pretty mundane. We got to school or work, maybe we are retired. We have our routines that eventually become ruts. We go to Mass on Sunday, maybe try to pray the rosary daily or read the Scriptures or a holy book. We may be tempted to wonder if these practises of piety are really useful because we don't feel anything. There can be extreme moments of crisis in our lives: the death of a loved one, losing a job, suffering a serious illness, where we really do feel alone and abandoned. 

On the other hand maybe we have been on retreat, or went to some type of charismatic prayer service, or had some other peak moment of prayer. We felt the presence of the Lord very clearly. Maybe we came back to the Faith after having fallen away, and feel the Lord directing us, drawing us in to His embrace. We have had that Transfiguration moment that changed our lives. Then we get discouraged because that feeling doesn't last. 

The danger I'm thinking of here isn't so much that we'll want to "stay on the mountain," as Peter suggested (though that is a possibility), but rather that we may go chasing after experiences to keep the spiritual high going. Jesus call us to Faith, which St. Paul tells us works through love (Gal. 5:6). Faith isn't a feeling, but a gift that animates how we live. It guides our actions. It is a supernatural virtue that expresses itself through the actions of our lives. It is a habit that itself forms in us the other supernatural virtue of charity. In truth, the two things go together, for as the letter of James tells us, faith without charity (good works) is dead (2:17). This type of faith is only true when it transcends the feelings of a particular moment. Faith is meant to be manifested in how we treat others when we feel like doing the right thing, and more importantly, when we don't. 

What do I mean by chasing after experiences to keep the spiritual high going?  It could be filling our weekends with retreat after retreat or charismatic prayer services. These are certainly not bad, but if we are under the impression that the faith is only alive in us when we feel it, or are experiencing a spiritual high, then we aren't really following the Lord out of love, but out of emotional need. In a way we are trying to "stay on the mountain," rather than taking those special moments of insight as inspiration and hope. 

The devil uses this chasing after the spiritual high to tempt us, as well. Many people come to me distressed that they don't feel consolation in prayer, especially in charismatic prayer. They hear others talking about how the Spirit is alive in their heart, and how Jesus speaks to them. Those who haven't had these experiences wonder what the problem is. They begin to think that their faith isn't real, or worse that their is something wrong with them that God is punishing them somehow. These seeds of doubt are planted by the enemy so that the weeds of despair may grow. 

I don't mean to be picking on charismatics. We have a very active charismatic group in our parish, with many of its members numbered among the leaders of the broader community. But there is a danger when we put too much of a stress on feelings in the Christian life. We can equate consolations and emotional states of mind with faith. As Archbishop Sheen might have put it, faith isn't tested in the short spiritual highs but in the long pull of living our life in Christ over the decades.

Another example of chasing after a spiritual high involves becoming preoccupied with Marian apparitions. Again, I'm not a skeptic. I've made pilgrimages to both Guadalupe and Lourdes, and have Fatima high up on my bucket list. Both visits represented profound, dare I say life changing events for me. But in the end I had to go home and live the devotion that was enkindled in those sacred shrines. Those moments of connection with the Mother of God were meant to spur me to greater union with her Son by imitating the virtues that made her the first disciple. 

It was tempting to want to stay and gaze at the mysterious image she left us at Tepeyac: contemplating her posture, and all the prophetic power contained therein. I would have loved to have just stayed in the Grotto by the River Gave, touching the wet rock while remaining dry, just below where our Lady stood, caught up in the natural beauty of the Pyrenees that lift the mind and heart to God. In both cases how wonderful it would have been to just build a spiritual tent, staying hidden, just Our Lady and me. But that's not the point of those apparitions. There is a reason our Lady only appears for a limited time in any of her apparition sites. She doesn't call us to come and stay. She asks us to come and pray, be recharged - renewed, and then to go back home to follow Jesus more closely. She calls us to change our lives, repenting of our sins. She calls us to be peace makers. She asks us to imitate her who, when she received the angel’s message consented, taking the Son of God into her body and her heart. She then immediately went out and served her cousins Elizabeth.

We need those moments on the mountain top, gazing at a miracle imprinted on a tilma, or in a quiet grotto caught up in prayer, as long as we remember that they only last a moment. They are meant to live on in our heart, reminding us of the greater glory God has in mind for us. The sad truth is that most of our discipleship is spent in a desert of drudgery. It's changing diapers and cleaning the toilet. It's filling out reports and filing paperwork. It's doing our homework and feeding the dog. It's doing the million little trifles we are board by, but when they're done for love these small acts make us saints.

We live between the desert and the mountain top. Most of our lives on planet Earth don't reach either extreme of desolation or exaltation, but is lived somewhere in the muddled middle. May the highs encourage us, strengthen us, give us courage for when the bad times come. May they also get us through the ordinary monotonies which can seem just as unbearable. Most of all, we need to perceiver in prayer and charity, with God's grace, when we feel the high, but especially when we don't, for it's in those moments Christ makes us saints.

St. John Bosco Bulletin Letter - 1st Sunday of Lent 2017

This letter will appear in the Sunday, March 5 St. John Bosco Parish Sunday Bulletin 

During Lent we are asked to pray, fast and give alms. These are spiritual weapons we are given to help us focus less on ourselves and more on our relationships with God, material things and, others. Prayer unites us to God, fasting teaches us that when we worry less about what we eat or what we wear or what we possess we have more spiritual energy to grow closer to the Lord and look after the needs of others.  Alms giving teaches us to grow in charity and in the sense that the things we have are gifts that are meant to be shared for the good of our neighbor and the Glory of God.

The prophets tell us though that we need to be careful. We can get so caught up in the letter of the law that we forget what the law means. We are, for instance, asked to give up meat on Fridays. While we should be careful not to eat meat on those days, we must remember the spirit in which we give these things up. We are asked not only to abstain from beef, chicken and pork, but to eat more simply.  With the money we save we are asked to give more to the poor, who are the presence of Jesus among us. In this way, prayer, fasting and almsgiving work together to purify our hearts and make us more Christ like. 

The Prophets also tell us that the sacrifice God wants more than anything else is a heart that is poor, contrite and seeks justice.  At the parish we have begun the Carridades de Cristo Recucitado ministry that over sees the food pantry and brings food and other essential materials, like cloths and heaters, to the homeless of our area. We have also restarted our Pastoral Migratoria ministry, and will be hosting events on March 19 – sponsored by the Archdiocese, and March 23 - in cooperation with the Mexican Consulate, to help pass on information regarding immigrant rights as well as offer an opportunity for people to share their worries, hopes and experiences. 

May these traditional Lenten practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving help us to grow closer to Jesus. May they purify our hearts that we may serve Him in our brothers and sisters in need. 

An Ash Wednesday Reflection from the Apostleship of Prayer

What are the Practices of Lent from Fr. Barron

The Significance of Ash Wednesday from Fr. Mike Schmitz and Ascension Presents

Enculturation (2/14/17) Apostleship of Prayer

A day late, but hopefully still useful for you all.

The Secret (of Fatima) from the Apostleship of Prayer (2/13/17)

The Story of the Apparitions in Lourdes

A piece on the apparitions of Our Lady to St. Bernadette at Lourdes, produced by Rome Reports in 2010

Confusing the MacGuffin for the Point: A Reflection on Martin Scorsese's "Silence"

Kichijiro facing his trial, once again

For a synopsis of the plot and a run down of the main characters of Silence I invite you to read my main review here. Unlike the review, this reflection will contain SPOILERS.

(Today is the memorial of St. Paul Miki and the Japanese Martyrs of Nagasaki, Japan. It wan't my plan to post this reflection today, but Divine Providence has a way of pushing things in a certain direction.) 

In film there is a story telling device called the MacGuffin, classically defined by Alfred Hitchcock (who may have also coined the phrase) as the "the thing that the characters on the screen worry about but the audience don't care." It's an object, a person or goal that the characters are after, but in the end is rather incidental apart from keeping the plot moving forward. Think of the plans for the Death Star in Star Wars or the enameled bird in The Maltese Falcon. In both movies the characters could just as easily have been chasing after an egg salad recipe or a sled, and it really wouldn't have made that much of a difference to the over all plot. In James Bond movies it's common to walk out at the end and not even remember what 007's adventure was all about, yet still having enjoyed the ride.

My advice for anyone seeing Martin Scorsese's new motion picture Silence, a fictionalized account of Christian persecutions in 17th century Japan, is to not confuse the MacGuffin for the main points of the film. It is easy to think that the film is concerned with the question of the choice between apostasy and martyrdom. While this may not qualify as a MacGuffin in the traditional sense, I would argue that the points around which the plot revolves: the search for a missing Jesuit and the dilemma over whether or not to renounce the faith, are really vehicles to keep the plot moving along. Unlike a thriller or action film, these devices aren't meant to get us caught up in car chases and explosions, rather are meant to lead us into a deeper meditation on faith and the interior life. How do we know what God wants from us in a given moment? When does devotion become self aggrandizement? How do we know we are reading the signs of God's presence correctly? How do we know that God is really out there, let alone close to us, since when we pray all we hear is silence?

In reading commentaries on the film, and assessing my own response, I concluded that in many ways Silence is a spiritual Rorschach test. Because there are many themes running through the film, and none of them are dominant, audience members will be drawn to what their personal priority is. Bishop Barron, in his commentary, focused on the issues of modern secularization and the privatizing of religion: that the film presents a faith that is tolerated by the societal elites as long as it isn't openly practiced. A writer for the UK Catholic Herald thought Bishop Barron was watching the movie with "culture warrior specs on". He rejected the idea that the movie was commenting on current events, but rather focused on priests very much of their time, on fire with the urgency of the Gospel, not interested in being therapists but in saving souls. (In fairness, if you listen to the Bishop's words closely, he's criticizing certain unnamed commentators, not the film itself). Still others did focus on the issue of martyrdom and apostasy, criticizing the film for making the apostates look good while the martyrs are dismissed, if not mocked. 

It's certainly possible for different people to draw different, yet valid, conclusions about Silence. I must say though, that those who drew this last conclusion saw a different movie than I did, and I believe they got it wrong because, in part, they were focusing on the MacGuffin instead of on the real main points. The other reason is that many religious people won't accept anything but filmed hagiography, and while Scorsese's presentation is pious, it doesn't shy away from displaying the characters' failures in a nonjudgmental way. 

So, what is the real main point, or points? As I wrote, different people will see different things, but for me the character of Kichijiro (Yōsuke Kubozuka), is the thread, the key to the story. When we first meet him he is a Japanese stranded in Macau, China. He's drunk and stinks of BO (and Lord knows what else) half conscious on the floor of a tavern. The Jesuits are uninspired by their would be guide. Since he is the only one who can get our "heroes," Fathers Rodgrigues and Garupe (Andrew Garfield and Adam Driver) to mainland Japan to begin their search for the missing Fr. Ferreira (Liam Neeson), they have no choice but to trust. Kichijiro vehemently denies that he is a Christian, but in time it is revealed that he indeed is. He is a Christian with a past, as well as an uncertain future. 

Kichijiro is an apostate who saw his family burned alive for refusing to step on a holy image, the public sign demanded by the authorities that demonstrates their renunciation of Christianity. He makes the decision to "trample" the image, and goes away free. But he isn't really free: not on the inside. Beside the trauma and attendant guilt that follows him after seeing his loved ones immolated on a beach, he is haunted by the faith that he continually rejects externally, yet still lives in him internally. He brings the priests to a remote village where Christians live in secret. The secret Catholics are overjoyed that they can once again celebrate the Eucharist and have their confessions heard, albeit under the cover of night. Kichijiro stands aloof, longing to partake in the Bread of Life, yet doesn't because of the treacherous sin that clings to him.

Eventually Kichijiro does go to confession to Fr. Rodrigues, who compassionately absolves him. But each time Kichijiro is faced with the choice of affirming or denying the faith, he either desecrates a holy image or betrays other Christians to the authorities. After each denial he seeks Fr. Rodrigues out for absolution (one such request adds a hint of unexpected levity to an otherwise tense situation). Each time absolution is given, more reluctantly than the time before, until the last time the priest refuses (which we'll get to in a bit). 

Within Kichijiro there is a war being waged. He had accepted the faith once, but even though the seed was sown on rocky soil (Mt. 13:3-9), withering away under the heat of persecution, it hasn't died completely. He wanders the earth like Cain, never at peace: his betrayal is always fresh, his sin always before him. Though he continually repents, his conversions are always short lived. Like Herod who was captivated by the words of John the Baptist, he is enchanted by the Gospel, drawn to the Sacraments and reaches for sacramentals. Yet like the tetrarch of old, he can't get himself to overcome his limitations and surrender to the Lord. 

Meanwhile, Rodrigues is captured, encountering Ferreira, and the reports are true: the senior Jesuit, his mentor, has apostatized. Not only that, but Ferreira has assumed a Japanese identity, complete with taking his namesake's widow for a wife. He is now a Buddhist, writing tracts detailing the errors of the faith he once tried to spread. His mission is now to convince Rodrigues to follow him in abandoning Christianity. He is very convincing in his appeals to Rodrigues, telling him that the people of Japan never really accepted the faith because their understanding of God is crudely naturalistic. Japan is a swamp, he explains to the young priest; its soil too corrupted to accept the tree of Christianity. 

Rodrigues too apostatizes, but not for any intellectual argument Ferreira makes. Some may want to judge Rodrigues and Ferreira for their apostasy, but this would be, again, to miss the point. Both men are based on historical figures, and that they did apostatize is fact. Scorsese is trying to do get inside their minds and souls. Their betrayal isn't a simple case of trying to save their own skins. Rodrigues is told by Ferreira, the Translator (Tadanobu Satō) and, the Grand Inquisitor (brilliantly played by Issey Ogata) that his fidelity is really pride, mistaking himself for Christ on the cross. While he sits in a cage Christians are being hung upside down over pits, slowly bleeding to death from tiny incisions made behind their ears. All he has to do is "trample" the holy image. He doesn't have to mean it. It's only a formality, he is assured. If he were really like Jesus he would have "acted" already to alleviate these people's suffering. Instead, he is told that the "price of your glory is their suffering." 

He is told that these people have already denounced the faith, but that is unimportant to them. They want him to renounce the faith publicly. They have learned their "lesson:" all killing priests does is create more Christians. But when a priest apostatizes, the faith of the people dies with their renunciation. He is finally brought to the breaking point. He has witnessed stylized crucifixions, beheadings, and drownings. He hears the screams, and the animalistic grunting and groaning of those being hung over the pit. In the end he tramples, abandoning his faith. While it is true that nothing excuses apostasy, anyone who would say they know for sure what they would have done in that situation, either way, is self deceived. 

As I wrote, both Rodrigues and Ferreira live out their days in Japan as public apostates, kept in relative comfort for the sake of remaining perpetual signs of the falsehood of Christianity for the native people. Both men work as customs officials, checking goods being brought in by Dutch traders (the only Westerners allowed into Japan before 1853). Each parcel and container are checked for religious articles or images. Even the most opaque, minute Christian symbol on cups or trinkets are identified for confiscation and destruction. Rodrigues who lives into his 80's is said to serve in this role with distinction.

In spite of their acquiescence, both men are weary. They take no joy in their work, and know that their life is one ongoing humiliation. They are not respected by their "hosts" and looked on as traitors by the Dutch. They are made to repeat their renunciation by publicly trampling an image and writing a letter of apostasy periodically (both men learn to speak and write Japanese very well). Kichijiro is always hanging around the peripheries it seems, and one day he visits Rodrigues at home and begs the defrocked priest to hear his confession. This time the priest refuses, not wanting to risk his life for anyone, much less for a man who could be setting him up yet again. Rodrigues denies that he is a Christian much like Kichijiro did all those years before in Macao, but now it is the Japanese who is unsure of the Jesuit's true feelings.  

Silence ends with Rodrigues' death, and a touch added by Scorsese. As his body is being cremated in a Buddhist ceremony the camera brings us inside the round coffin to glimpse a tiny wooden cross, given to him by one of the Christian martyrs years before, cradled in his lifeless hands. The voice over narration of a Dutch trader, as well as the visual cue, is meant to remind us that only God sees the he heart. This is my only real quibble with the movie in it's treatment of the story. I saw this as a tip of the hat to contemporary sensibilities that was unnecessary, and maybe counter productive. The reality is that he did turn his back on what he believed. He denied Jesus in front of others, and Jesus' words on this point are rather harsh. 

Contrary to our egalitarian age, I do believe that the public sins of a priest are more serious than the failures of others: in the context of the film Rodrigues bears a greater burden than Kichijiro since his apostasy contributed to the denial of others and the general rejection of the faith in the culture. Kichijiro's treachery cost him personally, but in a way led others to eternal life. It's the paradox of Judas that Scorsese is fascinated with: Jesus' mission couldn't have been completed without Judas, yet he is reviled, and, in the words of the Gospel, it's better had he never been born.

I want to be clear — I make no judgments on who's in heaven and who's in hell, even in the matter of fictional characters. I also freely acknowledge that if I were in Rodrigues’ sandals there's a good chance I would have done the same thing he did. At the same time, human beings are complex, God is simple. He is simple in his being, simple in His commandments and, thankfully, simple in his mercy. I have no problem reconciling the ideas that Rodrigues’ choice was at once understandable and wrong, that I can feel compassion for him and condemn his actions, leaving the ultimate judgment to God, who is mercy. 

I am human, after all, and like Kichijiro there is a war going on inside me. I reach for Christ, but too often pull back when I count the cost. In the case of Rodrigues he was ready to die, but the thought that he could save others, end their torture, by trampling was too overwhelming. Again, it's a choice I understand and could easily see myself making. But it's a choice that denies the transcendence of Christianity, the urgent indispensability of the Gospel. Do we believe that there are worse things than torture, even death? Do we believe in Divine Providence for those who are left behind, who we may feel are being abandoned? Isn't it true that the choice to trample may have saved a few lives temporarily, but condemned generations to darkness?

In the final analysis the themes of apostasy and martyrdom are probably more than just simple MacGuffins. Though not incidental to the plot of Silence, I would still argue that to stop there is to miss the deeper points. And I could write a lot more, but will end it here. I've seen Silence twice, and I'm guessing my next viewing will happen when it comes out on home video. Maybe I'll revisit it then.

Challenges (2/6/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer

Salt and Light (2/5/17) from the Apostleship of Prayer