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“Christ did not die for the good and beautiful. It is easy enough to die for the good and beautiful; the hard thing is to die for the miserable and corrupt.”
― Shūsaku Endō

“…we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” 
― Romans v. 4-5


Last night I finished reading ‘Samurai’ by Shusake Endo, celebrated author of the more popular novel ‘Silence’ which was recently made into a movie by Martin Scorcese. Samurai tells the story of a dirt poor samurai sent on a mission to Nueva España (modern day Mexico) and then to Europe to speak to the king and secure a trade with European nations and, if possible, learn European ship building techniques to improve the Japanese navy.

On his journey to Mexico, Spain, and Rome, the Samurai is confronted with how European politics of the time are deeply woven with Christianity at all levels, and how his nation is developing a complicated relationship with Christian missionaries as many regard them as a threat to their Japanese way of life. 

But the heart of the story is about a man who meets a king he wasn’t expecting, the servant King Jesus. And it happens in the most mundane ways: the crucifix. In the midst of his journey, the Samurai is confronted with a near infinite number of crucifixes. And he can’t understand how so many people look to this malnourished, pathetic man as a saviour and God.

No matter how the theology is explained to him by local priests, no matter how a Japanese convert in Nueva España shares his faith with him, the Samurai is only able to see the man on the cross as those poor wretches conquered in battles in feudal Japan. The Samurai has a fixed set of categories of how to interpret the world, and a pathetic man who is God just doesn’t fit. He repeatedly asks, ‘why would that man die for the ‘sins’ of humanity?’ Does it even make a difference? After all, the man died hundreds of years ago and nothing changed for the poor and broken in Japan. 

Does the death of Jesus really make a difference? This is a question that haunts the honest follower of Jesus. Because even as we affirm that the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus have changed everything, we can point to events in the world and in our lives that bear the mark of suffering and death which the cross of Jesus was supposed to have healed. Shusako Endo, the author,  wrestles with this question through his Samurai. And in a crucial part of the narrative, the Samurai begins a process of new understanding:

“It had never occurred to the samurai that there were so many new and different things to experience. He had not realized the world was so vast . . . But now a subtle transformation was taking place in his heart, and with it came a vague uneasiness and formless fear. He was setting foot in a new world. And he feared that cracks were beginning to form in the wall that had supported his heart until now, and that it would eventually crumble into dust.”

Part of the new world for the Samurai was the geography he was covering. But the more poignant new world was the life the Samurai inherits when his mission doesn’t end up as he envisioned it, and the spoils he hoped to secure end up with a specific type of suffering that I’ll leave you to read and explore. 

The salient point is seeing how it is in his suffering that the Samurai begins to see why those crucifixes make sense. Because he comes to realize that for those who follow Jesus in the midst of their suffering, God comes near to them, weeps with them, understands them, and in that love he strengthens and heals them. When the world weaves injustice around the weak and no one cares about the results, Jesus is near and he definitely cares. 

The story isn’t a triumphalist narrative where the Samurai sees the folly of his ways and becomes a Billy Graham Christian. That’s not the point of the novel. But a recognition occurs. And that new sight is what you and I need, every day. When we’re in the midst of the hurt and the suffering and even death, we must see what the Samurai finally noticed. As our Sunday Gospel has Jesus with the people and it says:

“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” Matt. 9.36

 

When we feel most alone, when no one understands us, when they don’t care how they’ve hurt us, we have our Shepherd who knows what we’re feeling and he’s there with us, to heal us, to guide us, to tell us it’s going to be okay. 

Anyone else telling us ‘it’s going to be okay’ can easily feel like the coldest comfort because do they really know it’s going to be okay? Or are they just guessing, sharing an easy platitude because they probably don’t know what else to say. Maybe a bit of both. Maybe something else but it all feels unhelpful.

But when Jesus says it's going to be okay, we can trust him. Because he lived for you. He died for you. And his promise of life and love was so real that when they killed him, death couldn't hold him. He is alive, and he promises that if you trust him, he will always be there for you. And more than that, your sufferings are not meaningless. They are used to create in you a heart and a life that no suffering and even death can destroy. In other words, your life is being woven into the life of Jesus so that just as he walked through death into life, so you will be like he is. 

And if the ultimate suffering that is death has been resolved, and it has, then what really can anything else do to you?

Though the Samurai finally saw this, the conclusion of his spiritual journey remains uncertain. But ours does not have to be. For in Jesus our “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” ― Romans v. 4-5