Shusaku Endo (1923–1996)

An account of a Christian author, who (very much like the author) is aging and unwell. His books tend to depict "the black, dark, ugly realms within his characters" and yet he is aware that "as he described the murky hearts of his characters, his own mind too became cloudy."
In an unexciting, "respectable" marriage, Sugaru's world is turned upside down when a dubious young woman confronts him at a literary event, reminding this pillar of respectability of their previous encountes in the red show more light district. A dogged reporter hears and begins checking out the story.
But is it- as Sugaru claims- just a lookalike? Or another facet to his personality?
As he becomes unsuitably interested in a teenage girl; as he befriends the kindly, respectable Madame Naruse (whose compassion for the patients at the hospital she works in seems at total variance with her recollections of the excitement she experienced at her husband's war atrocities)...the author confronts the mystery of the subconscious. How can a normal, upright person have such dark inner thoughts? show less

show more 遠藤周作的深河。講幾位年齡、經歷各不相同的日本人，去印度恆河邊「朝聖」，思考生死、宗教與自己人生的關聯。故事藉由多重視角陳述，可以看到每個人的心路歷程，每個人的故事都滿好看的。其中最受讀者注目的應該是原本是天主教修士，後來因為認為每個宗教裡都有耶穌，所以脫離天主教，去恆河邊服務印度教朝聖者的大津。我覺得大津（以及小說中也佔了重要地位的印度教女神查姆達）的愛人、為人服務、無佳形美容、被人厭棄的理念，應該也就是作者想要提倡的信仰之路。但我認同女主角的質疑，大津其人其行雖然動人（真的很動人！），但是一人之力有限，無法改變世界。（我覺得救贖之路一定要由耶穌來走才行得通，因為耶穌是完全的人也是完全的神，能受苦、能被厭棄、能背負人的罪而死，但也能復活、能贖罪、能升天為人預備地方，不是你我這樣凡人。）可惜小說結局戛然而止，有句重要的話說出來了之後，身為讀者很想看到起碼一句關於女主角如何反應的描寫。 show less

As an atheist I do find it hard to empathise with people undergoing crises of faith. I'm like, get over it! But this tale of a zealous Portuguese missionary being hunted in isolationist Japan, then pressured relentlessly to apostatize, generates a real sense of desolation. The titular heavenly silence gets louder and louder as you turn the pages. And it ends up being about more than the loss of religious faith; it's about futility in general, staring defeat in the face, the crushing of show more dreams and ambitions. show less

I just finished reading Shusaku Endo’s The Samurai, and it was eye-opening in so many ways. It is the story of two men: Father Velasco, the flawed but well-meaning missionary to Japan, and Hasekura Rokuemon, the quiet Samurai who only wants to do his duty. Both men have a mission, both of them are forced to compromise their integrity for the sake of that mission, and neither of them get what they want. In the end, however, The Samurai is a gentle reminder that God “writes straight with show more crooked lines,” and no matter how hard we try to bring the gospel to others, it is Jesus Christ alone who has the power to convert hearts. Endo, a Japanese Catholic, reminds us that “the essence of Christianity is determined not by bureaucratic fiat, but by the private yearnings of each and every believer.”

On the surface, The Samurai is historical fiction, recounting the journey of Hasekura Rokuemon and other Japanese emissaries to Mexico, Spain, and eventually Rome to see Pope Paul V in 1615. Rokuemon and his companions were the first Japanese emissaries to the Americas. It’s a fascinating story, and Endo tells it with great restraint, avoiding the temptation to over dramatize the events.

At its heart, however, The Samurai is an honest, unsentimental look at religious conversion, and the frustration of trying to bring about conversion in someone else. Father Velasco, as good as his intentions are, makes the mistake of thinking only he can bring salvation to Japan, and that only he understands God’s will. Velasco is a compelling character, because he is so much like so many of us–trying to do the right thing, thinking we know what God has planned for us, and hurt when things don’t go the way we expect them to.

Despite all of Velasco’s manipulations, Hasekura Rokuemon resists Christianity, continually asking the same question: “How can you revere such a miserable, wretched fellow? How can you worship someone so ugly and emaciated?” Yet all the time it is the “ugly emaciated man on the cross” that Rokuemon cannot get out of his head. It is not Velasco’s catechism classes, nor his rational arguments, nor his manipulative machinations. It is simply the man on the cross, the companion in our suffering. In one of the most beautiful scenes from the book, the power of Jesus is summarized in two lines:

“From now on…He will be beside you.” “From now on…He will attend you.”

Unlike Velasco, Jesus makes no promises to us in this life, except that he will always be with us, especially in our suffering.

The Samurai is beautifully written, and an essential book for all Catholics to read, especially those engaged in active evangelization. Highly recommended. show less