by Jason WildeIn his film Silence, Martin Scorsese tells us the story of a couple of Jesuit missionaries who travel to Japan to rescue Fr. Cristóvão Ferreira, who was at the time a great missionary, the superior of all Jesuit missionaries, and the first to renounce his faith under torture. In this story, we find that these missionaries have their dreams of martyrdom for the sake of their superior shattered by the revelation that Ferreira was now openly questioning and prosecuting suspected Christians, even encouraging them to apostatize (renounce their faith by symbolically stepping on an icon of Jesus or Mary called a fumie). Instead of a bold and daring rescue operation, the Jesuits find themselves the subject of a plot to have them apostatize as well, with the Japanese using their superior Fr. Ferreira as an example of honor. Now, here comes the spiritual plot twist. It is said that Fr. Ferreira apostatized in a prison camp where many of his Christian converts were tortured by hanging with their heads in a pit of excrement, slowly bleeding from a cut in their scalp so that they would remain conscious for the many days that it took them to slowly die. One hand was left unbound so they could signal their defeat and apostatize, and yet few did so. It would have been a horrendous death for these Japanese converts, neither quick nor honorific. But, instead being tortured to death, Fr. Ferreira found himself holding these suffering lives in his own hand, for if he were to apostatize, they would all be released. He renounced his faith in the end to save these lives. This situation opens some hard questions for believers. Which is worse - to watch as potentially hundreds of Christians are brutally tortured until they either renounce their faith or die as martyrs in order that their shepherd prevails as an unstained image of perfection...or to have that shepherd publicly renounce his own faith - a spiritual death - in order to save the lives and souls of his flock? When Jesus says that it is better to lose one's own life than to give his soul, what if the life is not your own? Can we use St. Peter's own denial of our Lord and Savior as an example of penitent denial for the greater good? Is there such a thing as spiritual martyrdom? Did Jesus succeed by dying on the cross? In Scorsese's retelling of the story, one of the returning missionaries is captured and lives the same fate as his superior. He hears the screams and cries of countless souls in torture from his cell and asks 'Why, Lord?', 'Where are You?' He prays through intense lamentations, and he hears nothing - Silence. And, as days turn to weeks and months of hearing these screams and cries - and silence from the Lord - he still refuses to step on the face of Jesus as more and more Japanese Christians die. We could dive into the moral and theological ramifications of this situation. In fact, I could make some strong parallels between this kind of situation and what has happened as churches are forced to make decision to limit or close services over the past year. But, there is a very important and crucial moment in this story that I want to focus on. It is at the climax when this missionary is bound, standing in front of an image of Jesus. He looks down and hears a gentle voice say “It’s OK to step on Me.” Our Christian Faith is reflected in this statement. When Jesus was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemene and Peter drew his sword to mount a defensive attack against the temple guards, it was Jesus who instructed Peter “Put your sword into its scabbard. Shall I not drink the cup that the Father gave me?” (Jn 18:11) Peter expected Jesus to tear down the thrones of rulers and bring peace and he was ready to fight for what he thought was a just cause. Jesus, however, knew that in the end, God’s plan was for Him to be put to death in a most brutal way, and though He even begged for deliverance from this fate, He knew the Father’s will and was obedient to it. We often don’t understand or trust God’s will, and our response is very much the same as Peter in the Garden of Gethsemene, or King Herod when whispers of God’s prophesy circled around - we take selfish control, often resulting in drastic consequences. Rather than follow Jesus’ example of prayer, supplication, and discernment, our human minds allow us to think only in the moment, or possibly in some abstract future that God will only laugh at. We scoff at the power of the Holy Spirit and desire instead to control it and make it conform to our will. The Holy Spirit just called, and It wants It’s Church back! I heard this proclamation at a healing conference, and it has stuck with me, becoming more and more relevant as I find my mission in my home country. We are a diminishing Church, losing followers at rates that would make most membership clubs think about closing shop, and yet we act as if we can somehow keep doing what we have been doing for the past 50 or 100 years, oblivious to the promptings of the Spirit, ignoring anyone asking questions, and persecuting those who wants to do something a little differently. Our Church is militant about protecting centuries-old rites, ancient songs and buildings, and placing God in a time capsule that very much represents the religious institutions that Jesus spoke most vigerously against. We obsess over the observance of laws and traditions that make us feel like we are in control of our own spiritual fate, akin to the Pharisees, scribes and the heretic Christian Palagians of the 5th century. In so many ways, we have taken the Church away from its groom and have instead groomed it to be something that I want; something that reflects the desire to control my fate and not very different from how our world tells us that we can hypercontrol everything in our world down to the degree in our passenger seat of this life. Fr. Dave Pivonka (TOR), known for the Wild Goose series on the Holy Spirit, described our treatment of the Holy Spirit as how we like to treat one of Its most recognizable symbols - fire. We love candlelit vigils and ceremonies, the smell of incense, and the romantic glow of a flickering flame around the altar. But, our affinity for fire only goes so far - only as far as we can control it. I remember watching a couple light a symbolic unity candle at their wedding amidst beautiful flowers, decorations, a full church, and a melodic refrain singing “Our lives are in your hands...” Satisfied that the large white candle was lit, the couple blew out their respective tapered candles and placed them back in their holders, turned around (Maid of Honor hurriedly moving the train), and walked ceremoniously back to their spot in the center aisle. Little did they know that as soon as they had crossed in front of the ambo, the small flame had flicked around and caught the decorative lace surrounding the unity candle, and the large tongues of fire were just about to jump over to the tabernacle cloth before an astute woman in the front row noticed it and quickly ran to smother the flaming lace. I only recently recognized the significance of this out-of-control flame that was supposed to symbolize a couple’s sacramental joining in some very well-controlled and predictable manner. But, the Holy Spirit makes things messy, destructive, and often hectic; much less than perfect in our human minds. So, we put in place more controls and insurances against anything that might get out of hand. We smother the Holy Spirit and remove any chance of it spreading. This is all fine until the Spirit places us in a situation that we cannot control, or that has no definitive moral answer. This is what Scorcese tried to show in his direction of Silence. There was no perfect answer or solution to the situation those missionaries were placed in, just as we didn’t have a lot of perfect solutions to deal with limitations placed on our society by COVID-19. When this happens, our conscious self defaults to narcissistic self-preservation or tribalism; values that are more closely linked to political or commercial ideologies than to God, or some kind of fundamentalism that offers a single closed-minded way of thinking. None of these defaults is conducive for a truth that can come from discernment in the Spirit. So, what would a Spirit-led Church look like?First of all, the Spirit wants to break out of the physical building that most of us call a ‘church’ and asks us to go outside of ourselves. This means not only recognizing that God is present in all Creation, but also that we are called to be a Church everywhere we go, work, live, and play. It means praising the Lord and praying at all times, not just when we feel obligated or when it is the appropriate time, or when it might outwardly show that we are Christian. We are called to find God in every person and treat them as we would the Son of God that we proclaim. The Spirit wants us to be poor and walk with the poor. The Spirit reveals to us our own hidden vices and addictions so that we may have mercy on those who have visibly sinned. It teaches us that salvation is not something that we achieve through pious or charitable acts, rather we desire to be a part of such acts because we have hope in a Kingdom on Earth as it is in Heaven and so we want to celebrate and glorify the King in anticipation of the end of times, when all will sing out. We must resist the urge to divide ourselves or judge! The Spirit does not judge what may seem different from our own way of thinking because the Spirit is different in every way imaginable...just as different as Jesus was in His own age because He turned the world upside down and asks us to look at it differently! In the words of Dallas Jenkins, director of The Chosen, we must “Get Used to Different!” Finally, a Spirit-led Church is also one that attracts because of the excitement and joy that it radiates, charisms and miracles that it encourages, and the love that it shares. It is one that resists saying ‘No’ and instead asks ‘How?’ At times, it will be uncomfortable. This is the Spirit moving! If we believe that rules, mandates, or traditions will keep the Church alive, then we have learned nothing from the New Testament. And we should be always praying and reflecting on God’s Word as this is the most direct way that the Spirit talks to us. As today is the formal day of Epiphany, I want to end with a little reflection on how the magi followed the Spirit without knowing exactly what they’d find. They didn’t have any answers, but only knew one thing: This star was important, a spark of excitement and hope. But, with only this spark, they set out and endured a long journey. This is how our journey as Christians and as a Church should be. We cannot know what our journey looks like and we have very little control over the fruit or trials from it. But, we set out, guided by the Wild Goose that is the Majestic Holy Spirit, crazy and unpredictable at times, and often uncomfortably in your face. What amazes me about these wise magi is that they were not seeking reward for themselves. They were men of great knowledge and power, and yet they knew that this was only a gift for them to seek something higher - a revelation that would be far more valuable and important than all the kings and nations of the Earth. There is no mention of complaint or selfish interests or protection in the Gospel accounts - only curiosity and docility. Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” (Matthew 2:2) In this modern age, we often like to complain about trials, struggles, or issues that hinder our expected path. Twelve days ago, I listened to several Christmas homilies and reflections that lamented about how we are not as free to say Merry Christmas as we’d like. Yet, in the eleven days since Christmas Day, I cannot say that I’ve seen or heard many Christians celebrate and proclaim that we are in the Christmas season; on the contrary, I’ve witnessed those elaborate decorations and positive expressions of love be taken down at an alarming rate - well before Epiphany, the day when the Christ-child was made known as King and Lord of all the Earth - and have been replaced by arguments, dissension, idolatry of worldly issues, powers, and personalities, and a looking forward to the next milestone. We have already turned back in on ourselves and want to control the Spirit of Christmas so that we can get on with our lives of passivity to the Holy Spirit. We are anxious to blow out the fire that was only lit twelve days ago - a fire that we attempt to use only as a self-preserving weapon and not as a flame of personal conversion in heart.
The magi, however, did not cement their plans or ideas that the Spirit had laid out for them. They did not give in to selfish interests by returning to Herod, who would have rewarded them greatly for information on the Messiah. These men exhibited great docility in their journey, and when told to, they avoided Kind Herod, “departing by another way” (Mt 2:12). Let us all use this Christmas season to change our hearts, listen to the Spirit, and depart by another path into this new year so that our Church may see that we are people of sacrifice and docility to the Holy Spirit that enlivens and magnifies our lives.
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On a MissionTwo passionate parents and their four children are excited to bring His Word to everyone in need while living a life of Gospel poverty as missionaries. They invite you to join them on a journey to encounter our global neighbors that Jesus commands us to love through works of charity and service. Archives
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