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Silence and Beauty: Hidden Faith Born of Suffering
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Shusaku Endo's novel Silence, first published in 1966, endures as one of the greatest works of twentieth-century Japanese literature. Its narrative of the persecution of Christians in seventeenth-century Japan raises uncomfortable questions about God and the ambiguity of faith in the midst of suffering and hostility.
Endo's Silence took internationally renowned visual artist Makoto Fujimura on a pilgrimage of grappling with the nature of art, the significance of pain and his own cultural heritage. His artistic faith journey overlaps with Endo's as he uncovers deep layers of meaning in Japanese history and literature, expressed in art both past and present. He finds connections to how faith is lived in contemporary contexts of trauma and glimpses of how the gospel is conveyed in Christ-hidden cultures.
In this world of pain and suffering, God often seems silent. Fujimura's reflections show that light is yet present in darkness, and that silence speaks with hidden beauty and truth.
Shusaku Endo's novel Silence, first published in 1966, endures as one of the greatest works of twentieth-century Japanese literature. Its narrative of the persecution of Christians in seventeenth-century Japan raises uncomfortable questions about God and the ambiguity of faith in the midst of suffering and hostility.
Endo's Silence took internationally renowned visual artist Makoto Fujimura on a pilgrimage of grappling with the nature of art, the significance of pain and his own cultural heritage. His artistic faith journey overlaps with Endo's as he uncovers deep layers of meaning in Japanese history and literature, expressed in art both past and present. He finds connections to how faith is lived in contemporary contexts of trauma and glimpses of how the gospel is conveyed in Christ-hidden cultures.
In this world of pain and suffering, God often seems silent. Fujimura's reflections show that light is yet present in darkness, and that silence speaks with hidden beauty and truth.
330 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2016
184 people are currently reading
2540 people want to read
About the author
Makoto Fujimura
48 books330 followersMakoto Fujimura, recently appointed Director of Fuller's Brehm Center, is an artist, writer, and speaker who is recognized worldwide as a cultural shaper. A Presidential appointee to the National Council on the Arts from 2003-2009, Fujimura served as an international advocate for the arts, speaking with decision makers and advising governmental policies on the arts. In 2014, the American Academy of Religion, named Makoto Fujimura as its ’2014 Religion and the Arts’ award recipient. This award is presented annually to an artist, performer, critic, curator, or scholar who has made a significant contribution to the understanding of the relations among the arts and the religions, both for the academy and for a broader public. Previous recipients of the award include Meredith Monk, Holland Carter, Gary Snyder, Betye & Alison Saar and Bill Viola.
Fujimura’s work is represented by Artrue International and has been exhibited at galleries around the world, including Dillon Gallery in New York, Sato Museum in Tokyo, The Contemporary Museum of Tokyo, Tokyo National University of Fine Arts Museum, Bentley Gallery in Arizona, Gallery Exit and Oxford House at Taikoo Place in Hong Kong, and Vienna’s Belvedere Museum. He is one of the first artists to paint live on stage at New York City’s legendary Carnegie Hall as part of an ongoing collaboration with composer and percussionist Susie Ibarra.
A popular speaker, he has lectured at numerous conferences, universities and museums, including the Aspen Institute, Yale and Princeton Universities, Sato Museum and the Phoenix Art Museum. Fujimura founded the International Arts Movement in 1992, a non-profit whose “Encounter” conferences have featured cultural catalysts such as Dr. Elaine Scarry, Dennis Donoghue, Billy Collins, Dana Gioia, Calvin DeWitt and Miroslav Volf.
Fujimura’s second book, Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art and Culture, is a collection of essays bringing together people of all backgrounds in a conversation and meditation on culture, art, and humanity. In celebration of the 400th Anniversary of the King James Bible, Crossway Publishing commissioned and published The Four Holy Gospels, featuring Fujimura’s illuminations of the sacred texts.
In 2011 the Fujimura Institute was established and launched the Four Qu4rtets, a collaboration between Fujimura, painter Bruce Herman, Duke theologian/pianist Jeremy Begbie, and Yale composer Christopher Theofanidis, based on T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. The exhibition will travel to Baylor, Duke, and Yale Universities, Gordon College and other institutions around the globe.
Bucknell University honored him with the Outstanding Alumni Award in 2012.
He is a recipient of four Doctor of Arts Honorary Degrees; from Belhaven University in 2011, Biola University in 2012, Cairn University in 2014 and Roanoke College , in February 2015.
Fujimura’s work is represented by Artrue International and has been exhibited at galleries around the world, including Dillon Gallery in New York, Sato Museum in Tokyo, The Contemporary Museum of Tokyo, Tokyo National University of Fine Arts Museum, Bentley Gallery in Arizona, Gallery Exit and Oxford House at Taikoo Place in Hong Kong, and Vienna’s Belvedere Museum. He is one of the first artists to paint live on stage at New York City’s legendary Carnegie Hall as part of an ongoing collaboration with composer and percussionist Susie Ibarra.
A popular speaker, he has lectured at numerous conferences, universities and museums, including the Aspen Institute, Yale and Princeton Universities, Sato Museum and the Phoenix Art Museum. Fujimura founded the International Arts Movement in 1992, a non-profit whose “Encounter” conferences have featured cultural catalysts such as Dr. Elaine Scarry, Dennis Donoghue, Billy Collins, Dana Gioia, Calvin DeWitt and Miroslav Volf.
Fujimura’s second book, Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art and Culture, is a collection of essays bringing together people of all backgrounds in a conversation and meditation on culture, art, and humanity. In celebration of the 400th Anniversary of the King James Bible, Crossway Publishing commissioned and published The Four Holy Gospels, featuring Fujimura’s illuminations of the sacred texts.
In 2011 the Fujimura Institute was established and launched the Four Qu4rtets, a collaboration between Fujimura, painter Bruce Herman, Duke theologian/pianist Jeremy Begbie, and Yale composer Christopher Theofanidis, based on T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. The exhibition will travel to Baylor, Duke, and Yale Universities, Gordon College and other institutions around the globe.
Bucknell University honored him with the Outstanding Alumni Award in 2012.
He is a recipient of four Doctor of Arts Honorary Degrees; from Belhaven University in 2011, Biola University in 2012, Cairn University in 2014 and Roanoke College , in February 2015.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 150 reviews
April 16, 2017
This book is incredible! Wow. I've just been blown away by Fujimura's insight on the Japanese culture, art, and spirit and how he weaves this into grace, Christ's death, and beauty. I pretty much highlighted almost every part of this book! I have so many ideas to ponder, ideas that are provocative, moving, and heartbreaking. There is the aspect of gaining insight into the Japanese people and how they are trapped within their trauma, unable to escape, but all the while have the potential to share something unique and powerful with the world. There is the aspect of seeing how this concept of "silence" is pregnant with hidden pain, but also a brokenness that can lead to healing. There is defiance, there is sacrifice, there is trauma, there is beauty, there is the voice of God all wrapped up in this one concept: silence.
This book was also about art and the power to bring healing to the cultures, and that so much resonated with my spirit. Fujimura is a fellow warrior poet who understands the struggle of a Christian artist in a fallen world. By analyzing Endo's work he also is showing how art has the means by which we can cross borders, cultures, and break through to the hearts of the people. Endo's book Silence is an international success, and so Fujimura outlines why exactly this is, and how all Christian artists have this power and, I would say, responsibility.
I was just blown away by how deep he goes into the arts, Japan, Christianity, and suffering. It is heady and profound, but it is also Scriptural, as we are invited into the mystery of God, both His power and grace, both His severity and His kindness. It makes me think of the line of verse from a Michael Card song: "For the power of paradox opens your eyes."
I am going to be taking much of this books ideas into my life from now on. Much I shall be pondering. I am grateful for the Lord's use of Makato Fujimura's insight and I pray that God would be continually glorified through it!
This book was also about art and the power to bring healing to the cultures, and that so much resonated with my spirit. Fujimura is a fellow warrior poet who understands the struggle of a Christian artist in a fallen world. By analyzing Endo's work he also is showing how art has the means by which we can cross borders, cultures, and break through to the hearts of the people. Endo's book Silence is an international success, and so Fujimura outlines why exactly this is, and how all Christian artists have this power and, I would say, responsibility.
I was just blown away by how deep he goes into the arts, Japan, Christianity, and suffering. It is heady and profound, but it is also Scriptural, as we are invited into the mystery of God, both His power and grace, both His severity and His kindness. It makes me think of the line of verse from a Michael Card song: "For the power of paradox opens your eyes."
I am going to be taking much of this books ideas into my life from now on. Much I shall be pondering. I am grateful for the Lord's use of Makato Fujimura's insight and I pray that God would be continually glorified through it!
June 9, 2020
I really wanted to enjoy this read more than I did.
It's a well-informed Protestant Japanese take on Endo's Silence, through the lenses of an important visual artist. Overall, Fujimura will enrich any future reread's of Silence: the rich intellectual history of Japan, an informative outlook on Endo's life, and the background of the Meiji restoration will change how you look at the great novel.
The problem with this book is exactly why its valuable: its a Protestant take on a Jesuit novel. The word "Jesuit" may have been mentioned a whopping three times throughout the 215 pages. This dehibilitates the book. Endo wasn't just Jesuitical; his book screams the theology of Ignatius. While Fujimura did paint Christ in the kenotic way of the Jesuit tradition, it left out the rest of Ignatian theology, where Silence finds its roots.
Sometimes it seems as if Fujimura even forgot Endo was Catholic. The Virgin Mary, ever so important to Catholics, especially ones who prefer a feminine Christ (as Fujimura argues), was scarcely mentioned. And when Mary was mentioned, it was only in passing. Mary plays a critical role in Endo's novel and leaving her out of this contemplation Protestantizes Endo's novel.
In summary, Silence is a deeply Catholic novel that owes itself to its Jesuit origins and Marian devotion, both of which find themselves completely ignored in this reflection.
It's a well-informed Protestant Japanese take on Endo's Silence, through the lenses of an important visual artist. Overall, Fujimura will enrich any future reread's of Silence: the rich intellectual history of Japan, an informative outlook on Endo's life, and the background of the Meiji restoration will change how you look at the great novel.
The problem with this book is exactly why its valuable: its a Protestant take on a Jesuit novel. The word "Jesuit" may have been mentioned a whopping three times throughout the 215 pages. This dehibilitates the book. Endo wasn't just Jesuitical; his book screams the theology of Ignatius. While Fujimura did paint Christ in the kenotic way of the Jesuit tradition, it left out the rest of Ignatian theology, where Silence finds its roots.
Sometimes it seems as if Fujimura even forgot Endo was Catholic. The Virgin Mary, ever so important to Catholics, especially ones who prefer a feminine Christ (as Fujimura argues), was scarcely mentioned. And when Mary was mentioned, it was only in passing. Mary plays a critical role in Endo's novel and leaving her out of this contemplation Protestantizes Endo's novel.
In summary, Silence is a deeply Catholic novel that owes itself to its Jesuit origins and Marian devotion, both of which find themselves completely ignored in this reflection.
June 27, 2024
It’s important to note that you really have to read Shusaku Endo’s silence before reading this book, as it is a commentary on that novel. That said, I enjoyed this book much more than I enjoyed Silence. I highlighted a ton of passages to return to and I really wish I had read this book before we had it for our book club a few weeks ago. Fujimura does an excellent job explaining the context and culture surrounding the writing of this book and what it is meant to mean to a western audience. I think the biggest thing that stood out to me was the cultural divide between the western desire for a black-and-white clarity and the eastern acceptance of ambiguity. I think Endo’s message in Silence is all about affirming the presence of God through ambiguity and despair and not so much about the silence of God. In my opinion, this is almost a mandatory read to properly appreciate Silence, if that is something you wish to do
Some quotes:
“A complex work of art that may lead to a deeper reflection on human experience and complexity, a work of art such as Silence, will be deemed suspect in such a setting, as its ambiguity strikes many Christians know as something to be avoided. They might say, ‘I do not want to have anything to do with failures of faith’ or ‘To doubt God is to sin.’ Endo exposes the flaw in this thinking. It does not express faith in God but instead a faith in clarity and, as one of my friends puts it, ‘our lust for certainty.’ Faith can be rational, but only after a deeper journey toward mystery and transcendence.”
“Endo called himself ‘Kichijiro’ in many of his lectures and his writings. In Silence the character Kichijiro represents all of the ‘children of failed faith' and the centerpiece of Endo's attempt to redefine the concept of the hero. Kichijiro is orphaned, his past was traumatic, and he is rejected by the community and his family. His witness is miserably nonexistent. Yet to Endo, Kichijiro is also the counterpoint to the male imperialism of the Christian West, brought into Japan symbolically through Father Rodrigues; Kichijiro is Endo himself, vacillating, hiding his true motives, but finding inexplicably the deeper reality of beauty, the beauty born of sacrifice”
Some quotes:
“A complex work of art that may lead to a deeper reflection on human experience and complexity, a work of art such as Silence, will be deemed suspect in such a setting, as its ambiguity strikes many Christians know as something to be avoided. They might say, ‘I do not want to have anything to do with failures of faith’ or ‘To doubt God is to sin.’ Endo exposes the flaw in this thinking. It does not express faith in God but instead a faith in clarity and, as one of my friends puts it, ‘our lust for certainty.’ Faith can be rational, but only after a deeper journey toward mystery and transcendence.”
“Endo called himself ‘Kichijiro’ in many of his lectures and his writings. In Silence the character Kichijiro represents all of the ‘children of failed faith' and the centerpiece of Endo's attempt to redefine the concept of the hero. Kichijiro is orphaned, his past was traumatic, and he is rejected by the community and his family. His witness is miserably nonexistent. Yet to Endo, Kichijiro is also the counterpoint to the male imperialism of the Christian West, brought into Japan symbolically through Father Rodrigues; Kichijiro is Endo himself, vacillating, hiding his true motives, but finding inexplicably the deeper reality of beauty, the beauty born of sacrifice”
May 31, 2019
I read this immediately after finishing Endo's Silence. This book should be required reading for anyone interested in Silence or in how Japan and Christianity relate to one another. He also advised Martin Scorsese before he directed the movie version of Silence, which should also be watched after reading Silence. It is very faithful to the book.
I had the privilege of hearing Fujimura speak at a Society for Classical Learning conference four years ago and got to speak to him for a minute when he autographed my copy of his book.
I highly recommend Silence and Beauty and must admit I learned more about Japanese culture and their worldview in these 200+ pages than anything I had read before.
I had the privilege of hearing Fujimura speak at a Society for Classical Learning conference four years ago and got to speak to him for a minute when he autographed my copy of his book.
I highly recommend Silence and Beauty and must admit I learned more about Japanese culture and their worldview in these 200+ pages than anything I had read before.
June 23, 2025
“If we care to know how deep the suffering of Christ goes—and how vast and even violent is the restoration process through Christ’s suffering—then we had better start with knowing the dark, cruel reality of the fallen world. If we care to embrace hope despite what encompasses us, the impossibility of life and the inevitability of death, then we must embrace a vision that will endure beyond our failures.”
August 1, 2016
Summary: A "layered" reflection on Shusako Endo's Silence by a Japanese-American artist that explores the Christian experience of persecution in Japan, and the connections between silence, suffering, and beauty, that may draw contemporary Japanese to faith.
It is said that you cannot judge a book by its cover. Yet my very first encounter with this book suggested I was in for something special as I looked at a cover with a pure white background, a couple of Japanese characters, and a translucent dust jacket with the the words "Silence and Beauty" superimposed on those characters. I opened the book to find inside papers that I believe are a work of the artist/author. And what I found between the covers was a profound reflection upon Shusako Endo's Silence.
Makoto Fujimura is an internationally renown artist who paints in the ancient Japanese technique of nihonga, which involves the pulverizing of various minerals mixed into a binder and applied in as many as one hundred layers onto art papers. He begins his work by describing his encounter with Endo's work having a similar "pulverizing" effect in his life as he encountered the suffering of Christian martyrs and the attempt to shame apostatizers by having them walk on fumi-e (bronze images of the crucified Christ, or the Virgin Mary). The novel revolves around Father Rodrigues, who struggles between martyrdom, and saving others from suffering by walking on fumi-e, and the interior struggle with the "silence" of God in the face of such suffering.
From here, Fujimura explores layers of meaning as he interweaves his own artistic journey, and the struggle to be faithful to Christ in an art world often hostile to faith. He also explores Japanese culture and the connections between "the chrysanthemum and the sword", between kindness and cruelty, beauty and suffering, and how this has shaped Japanese consciousness, art, and literature. Along the way, he reflects on the paradox of the fumi-e, at once a symbol of shame, and yet by the very act of those who step on Christ, a proclamation of the cross. And with this, he uncovers a reality with which we often struggle but do not find easy to admit, living between faithfulness and denial. The fumi-e, a symbol of shame, becomes a symbol of hope, for Father Rodrigues, and for us.
I struggled at first in understanding what Fujimura was doing until I grasped that rather than a linear exposition of Endo's work, this was a layered reflection, returning to the canvas again and again adding new insights and reflections to what he'd already written. Fujimura layers history, story, and biography together. Nagasaki was "Ground Zero" for the first martyrdoms of Christians in the Japanese persecution, the location of persecution in Silence, and the site of the second atomic bombing on August 9, 1945. Ground Zero was a church where many were worshiping. Fujimura interweaves his own "Ground Zero" experience of having a studio and a loft apartment in the shadow of the World Trade Center on 9/11 and the struggle with suffering, darkness and lament, and the paradox of beauty that may arise from these.
The book includes a summary of Endo's book for those who have not read it. Fujimura suggests, and I would agree, reading Endo's book first. I read Silence a number of years ago and want to re-read it, and perhaps re-read Fujimura's book as well. He also discusses Endo's relationship in two appendices to two other Japanese authors of note, Yasunari Kawabata and Kenzaburo Oe. There is a glossary of Japanese terms which is quite helpful, and which you want to have your thumb in as you read.
The book concludes with some thoughtful observations about Christian mission in Japan (which I think are also applicable in the West) that brings brokenness and beauty together, in place of a church that has often seem more focused on legalism. He speaks of the hunger for beauty in Japanese culture, the longing for liberation from fumi-e, and the power of the Christian message to bring this. These are his concluding words:
"Endo shows that God speaks through silence. 'Even if he had been silent, my life until this day would have spoken of him.' In the mystery of silence and beauty God speaks through our broken lives facing our Ground Zero. In the layers revealed through the worn-smooth surface of a fumi-e is a true portrait of Christ; Japan's unique hidden culture offers it as a gift to the world."
In Silence and Beauty, what Fujimura has done is explore those layers and revealed this gift.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
It is said that you cannot judge a book by its cover. Yet my very first encounter with this book suggested I was in for something special as I looked at a cover with a pure white background, a couple of Japanese characters, and a translucent dust jacket with the the words "Silence and Beauty" superimposed on those characters. I opened the book to find inside papers that I believe are a work of the artist/author. And what I found between the covers was a profound reflection upon Shusako Endo's Silence.
Makoto Fujimura is an internationally renown artist who paints in the ancient Japanese technique of nihonga, which involves the pulverizing of various minerals mixed into a binder and applied in as many as one hundred layers onto art papers. He begins his work by describing his encounter with Endo's work having a similar "pulverizing" effect in his life as he encountered the suffering of Christian martyrs and the attempt to shame apostatizers by having them walk on fumi-e (bronze images of the crucified Christ, or the Virgin Mary). The novel revolves around Father Rodrigues, who struggles between martyrdom, and saving others from suffering by walking on fumi-e, and the interior struggle with the "silence" of God in the face of such suffering.
From here, Fujimura explores layers of meaning as he interweaves his own artistic journey, and the struggle to be faithful to Christ in an art world often hostile to faith. He also explores Japanese culture and the connections between "the chrysanthemum and the sword", between kindness and cruelty, beauty and suffering, and how this has shaped Japanese consciousness, art, and literature. Along the way, he reflects on the paradox of the fumi-e, at once a symbol of shame, and yet by the very act of those who step on Christ, a proclamation of the cross. And with this, he uncovers a reality with which we often struggle but do not find easy to admit, living between faithfulness and denial. The fumi-e, a symbol of shame, becomes a symbol of hope, for Father Rodrigues, and for us.
I struggled at first in understanding what Fujimura was doing until I grasped that rather than a linear exposition of Endo's work, this was a layered reflection, returning to the canvas again and again adding new insights and reflections to what he'd already written. Fujimura layers history, story, and biography together. Nagasaki was "Ground Zero" for the first martyrdoms of Christians in the Japanese persecution, the location of persecution in Silence, and the site of the second atomic bombing on August 9, 1945. Ground Zero was a church where many were worshiping. Fujimura interweaves his own "Ground Zero" experience of having a studio and a loft apartment in the shadow of the World Trade Center on 9/11 and the struggle with suffering, darkness and lament, and the paradox of beauty that may arise from these.
The book includes a summary of Endo's book for those who have not read it. Fujimura suggests, and I would agree, reading Endo's book first. I read Silence a number of years ago and want to re-read it, and perhaps re-read Fujimura's book as well. He also discusses Endo's relationship in two appendices to two other Japanese authors of note, Yasunari Kawabata and Kenzaburo Oe. There is a glossary of Japanese terms which is quite helpful, and which you want to have your thumb in as you read.
The book concludes with some thoughtful observations about Christian mission in Japan (which I think are also applicable in the West) that brings brokenness and beauty together, in place of a church that has often seem more focused on legalism. He speaks of the hunger for beauty in Japanese culture, the longing for liberation from fumi-e, and the power of the Christian message to bring this. These are his concluding words:
"Endo shows that God speaks through silence. 'Even if he had been silent, my life until this day would have spoken of him.' In the mystery of silence and beauty God speaks through our broken lives facing our Ground Zero. In the layers revealed through the worn-smooth surface of a fumi-e is a true portrait of Christ; Japan's unique hidden culture offers it as a gift to the world."
In Silence and Beauty, what Fujimura has done is explore those layers and revealed this gift.
____________________________
Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own.
July 17, 2017
Probably I should read it again.
It intrigued me more than it enlightened me.
Ambiguity is close to the theme of the book, and Fujimura's thoughts about ambiguity tend toward the ambiguous. Others may feel more at home here.
He opened the window into Japanese culture wider for me, drawing connections between a past of failed Christianity and forced silence to the ambiguity, ambivalence, and passivity which he notes in the Japanese spirit. Little space is given to critique; he supports Japanese culture, seeing in the ambiguity itself a unique world of meaning, expressed in a distinct art. The book is not primarily about Japan's history and art, either to critique or support, but that world, and Shusaku Endo's novel "Silence" in particular, is a context for the broader themes. It is hard to say what the theme or thesis of the book is.
The martyrs are honored by the church, but what of the suffering apostates--those who outwardly betrayed Christ but inwardly still believed? Here "hiddenness" is something different from living in catacombs, and "silence" includes stepping on the fumie, a cross symbol made for the purpose.
The method of the book is not to bring together the two sides of the many contradictions it deals in, but to inhabit the 'spaces in between'. Something like this space is what is meant by "silence." It does not intend to be rigorously analytical. Images and themes are folded together, creating a mood of coherence, without actually relating ideas together in synthesis. I found this dissatisfying; I think that I can out-both-and the both-anders, and have my rational cake and transrationally eat it too. (see the cake Becomes part of me, so I still 'have' it...) I think too that there is a place where ambiguity means not beauty and silence but collapse and death. I'm sure Fujimura would agree, but I don't remember this place defined. Definition in general is just not the way Fujimura works here.
The book is built around Shusaku Endo's book "Silence." While Fujimura does critique Endo's theology as relativist and postmodern, the net effect is to unequivocally uphold his book as valuable, in the artistic sense of the term. Between postmodernism and modernism, a space. I kinda like that--I see myself there too--except that the beauty is in the synthesis, not the bare space.
Fujimura critiques the Western Christian worldview as aggressive and individualist, with a patriarchal God. He sees Japanese culture as passive and collectivist, with a matriarchal God, and suggests that this is not enough. This idea is not developed; it's more about experiencing the Japanese world of faith and art for what it is.
A crude summary, very much my own: There is right and wrong--strength and weakness--triumph and failure, and then there is the space between--silence--a kind of beauty. I offer a qualification: This space is beauty only in the context of striving toward the good--or in the context of "Silence," only with the assumption that there really is a faith which no horrors of real life can shake. Martyrdom is not a Western invention. It's not even really a Christian invention, but true to the core of humanity. Individual responsibility is a fundamental reality giving rise to the moral tension between idealism and real life, but this book risks the collapse of meaning by putting individual responsibility itself in a tension with failure, with nothing supporting. But the space between good and evil is not good, but... space. And the book is not as much about the very real uncertainty inherent to the finding of that good as about the failure to live what is found.
Failure is not beautiful; redemption is beautiful. He came to heal, not to help us inhabit our sickness. This is not rejected, but I think it could be more clearly shown.
Fujimura helps me understand a kind of psychological suffering which I have not experienced. I did not find the same beauty in this that he has found. Very likely I will see it differently sometime.
I have not read the book "Silence"; only summaries.
I'm glad I read this book. I expected something other than what I got, but I liked much of what I did find, and the space between expectation and satisfaction is one I can find beauty in. It made me think.
Probably I should read it again.
It intrigued me more than it enlightened me.
Ambiguity is close to the theme of the book, and Fujimura's thoughts about ambiguity tend toward the ambiguous. Others may feel more at home here.
He opened the window into Japanese culture wider for me, drawing connections between a past of failed Christianity and forced silence to the ambiguity, ambivalence, and passivity which he notes in the Japanese spirit. Little space is given to critique; he supports Japanese culture, seeing in the ambiguity itself a unique world of meaning, expressed in a distinct art. The book is not primarily about Japan's history and art, either to critique or support, but that world, and Shusaku Endo's novel "Silence" in particular, is a context for the broader themes. It is hard to say what the theme or thesis of the book is.
The martyrs are honored by the church, but what of the suffering apostates--those who outwardly betrayed Christ but inwardly still believed? Here "hiddenness" is something different from living in catacombs, and "silence" includes stepping on the fumie, a cross symbol made for the purpose.
The method of the book is not to bring together the two sides of the many contradictions it deals in, but to inhabit the 'spaces in between'. Something like this space is what is meant by "silence." It does not intend to be rigorously analytical. Images and themes are folded together, creating a mood of coherence, without actually relating ideas together in synthesis. I found this dissatisfying; I think that I can out-both-and the both-anders, and have my rational cake and transrationally eat it too. (see the cake Becomes part of me, so I still 'have' it...) I think too that there is a place where ambiguity means not beauty and silence but collapse and death. I'm sure Fujimura would agree, but I don't remember this place defined. Definition in general is just not the way Fujimura works here.
The book is built around Shusaku Endo's book "Silence." While Fujimura does critique Endo's theology as relativist and postmodern, the net effect is to unequivocally uphold his book as valuable, in the artistic sense of the term. Between postmodernism and modernism, a space. I kinda like that--I see myself there too--except that the beauty is in the synthesis, not the bare space.
Fujimura critiques the Western Christian worldview as aggressive and individualist, with a patriarchal God. He sees Japanese culture as passive and collectivist, with a matriarchal God, and suggests that this is not enough. This idea is not developed; it's more about experiencing the Japanese world of faith and art for what it is.
A crude summary, very much my own: There is right and wrong--strength and weakness--triumph and failure, and then there is the space between--silence--a kind of beauty. I offer a qualification: This space is beauty only in the context of striving toward the good--or in the context of "Silence," only with the assumption that there really is a faith which no horrors of real life can shake. Martyrdom is not a Western invention. It's not even really a Christian invention, but true to the core of humanity. Individual responsibility is a fundamental reality giving rise to the moral tension between idealism and real life, but this book risks the collapse of meaning by putting individual responsibility itself in a tension with failure, with nothing supporting. But the space between good and evil is not good, but... space. And the book is not as much about the very real uncertainty inherent to the finding of that good as about the failure to live what is found.
Failure is not beautiful; redemption is beautiful. He came to heal, not to help us inhabit our sickness. This is not rejected, but I think it could be more clearly shown.
Fujimura helps me understand a kind of psychological suffering which I have not experienced. I did not find the same beauty in this that he has found. Very likely I will see it differently sometime.
I have not read the book "Silence"; only summaries.
I'm glad I read this book. I expected something other than what I got, but I liked much of what I did find, and the space between expectation and satisfaction is one I can find beauty in. It made me think.
Probably I should read it again.
September 27, 2021
I struggle with books like this one that lack a linear train-of-thought. But there were a lot of great takeaways from this book, which functions as a literary commentary, a memoir, and a reflection on Christian living all at the same time. Fujimura interprets Silence very differently than I do, and I'm not quite sure if I agree with his interpretation or not. But that's what I really value about a book like this one: it presents a different perspective, sparks thought, and makes me want to re-read the source material again. And isn't that what a good piece of literary commentary ought to be doing?
Rating: 3.5-4 Stars (Good).
Rating: 3.5-4 Stars (Good).
August 18, 2025
This kind of feels like a cross between a really long but thoughtful Substack post and a fan analysis essay.
It's beautifully written and the things Fujimura has to say on the line between faith and art is absolutely important and really heartfelt.
It's a niche feeling topic but for a more wider audience than you would think.
Some of the lines in this book are absolute gold and I'm walking away with much more to think on.
It's beautifully written and the things Fujimura has to say on the line between faith and art is absolutely important and really heartfelt.
It's a niche feeling topic but for a more wider audience than you would think.
Some of the lines in this book are absolute gold and I'm walking away with much more to think on.
April 27, 2022
An insightful translation for Western minds of the Japanese psyche and culture through Shūsaku Endō’s epic historical tale ‘Silence’; an illustration of grace that riles understanding and rivets the soul.
February 9, 2017
"Every creative act can be a sacramental act to reach the divine and bridge the divide and brokenness created in society" (209).Silence and Beauty is a fascinating, thoughtful, wonderful book. Mako uses Endo's novel Silence, and Scorcese's film version, as a starting point to talk about history, Christianity, and Japanese culture. He also shares glimpses of his own journey in America and Japan.
As part of this meandering (in a good way) musing, Mako presents an excellent explanation for why the visual arts struggle to find a place in American churches. He suggests that the "many Christians who make black-and-white judgments about others, especially in regard to failures of faith" have created a context in which "artists sense the disappearance of margins, cultural estuaries where they can be allowed to explore the confluence of the ambiguous on the beautiful, and where the reality of faith is always shifting" (81-82). I find that to be really helpful, the idea of "cultural estuaries" where the arts thrive, and the fact that the Western obsessions with order, structure, and clarity reduce that space, and thus reduce the ways in which artists might contribute to the Christian life of a community.
It was a surprise at the end of the book that Mako moves the discussion to his hopes and dreams for Japan in the future. I appreciated his metaphor of soil requiring multiple layers of death to become productive; in the same way, Mako prays that the many layers of death Japan has endured over hundreds of years (including religious persecution, atomic blasts, nuclear meltdown) will eventually be seen as preparing the ground for great fruitfulness that will reach out to the rest of the world. Beautiful.
This book changed my perspective on many things, and it did so not in a dogmatic, "logical" way, but in the quiet, reflective voice of a friend sharing from his heart. I highly recommend this book, even without having experience of Endo's novel or Scorcese's film (I haven't yet read or seen either).
October 19, 2017
I feel like an ogre giving this three stars. Fujimura goes into a lot of personal detail and philosophical musing not directly related to the book Silence, and much of it I found far too idiosyncratic to really enjoy. His fans really, really like this book, but I suspect many of them know Fujimura personally, and so are interested in what, to me, was far too specific to Fujimura to be of general interest.
The parts directly related to Silence are very good, but it was hard to wade through all the other stuff to get to them. Still, I can say that Silence and Beauty helped me better understand Silence, which was difficult to read; Fujimura gave me a broader perspective and pointed out the redemptive qualities of a terrible, terrible period in the history of Christian faith and missions, and, even more so, of the historical novel Endo wrote about it.
The parts directly related to Silence are very good, but it was hard to wade through all the other stuff to get to them. Still, I can say that Silence and Beauty helped me better understand Silence, which was difficult to read; Fujimura gave me a broader perspective and pointed out the redemptive qualities of a terrible, terrible period in the history of Christian faith and missions, and, even more so, of the historical novel Endo wrote about it.
April 13, 2017
I actually ran out of sticky page markers and had to switch to post-its before the end. Sign of a book well read! An absolutely transformative book that I will be reflecting upon for a very long time. ♥ I really want to read his other books now.
July 27, 2019
A multifaceted jewel.
February 16, 2024
Silence & Beauty nourished my soul. I read it slowly—over the course of months, chapter by chapter in between other books—so I wouldn’t miss a thing, because I knew from the first chapter that I needed all of it. I needed my heart to marinate in this meticulously curated offering of the power of the Gospel for every culture.
I loved Endo’s Silence before I read Silence & Beauty, but now…I almost have no words. I am challenged to cease from always seeing the black and white, as Fujimura would say, “the false dichotomies,” and instead embrace the discomfort of the silent struggles.
I truly cannot find other words to express how highly I recommend this book. Read Silence, and then read Silence & Beauty.
I loved Endo’s Silence before I read Silence & Beauty, but now…I almost have no words. I am challenged to cease from always seeing the black and white, as Fujimura would say, “the false dichotomies,” and instead embrace the discomfort of the silent struggles.
I truly cannot find other words to express how highly I recommend this book. Read Silence, and then read Silence & Beauty.
May 24, 2017
With the release of Martin Scorsese's movie this year, I wanted to reread Silence and also this examination of the novel by Fujimura, whose art I admire. I'm glad I did. Fujimura's position as a Japanese-American Christian artist gives him unique insight into Shusako Endo's motivations and perspectives in writing Silence: things like the visual nature of Japanese culture, the importance of never standing out, the fact that even the Japanese word used for Christianity designates it as an outsider culture. All these things illuminate and expand on the complexities of Endo's novel and Fujimura explains them well. The main weakness in the book, imo, is that Fujimura spends way too much time talking about his own conversion and understanding of theology in a way that will be uninteresting or accessible to non-Christians.
October 25, 2021
Any book by Fujimara breaks the ceiling.
He is teaching the world how to slow down.
He is teaching the world how to slow down.
April 3, 2023
I liked certain parts of the book, esp when the writer was talking about his personal life, and how it is connected to Endo's life, my other favorite part is when he was talking about Seno Rikyu life that was really interesting.
February 8, 2017
Short Review: Silence and Beauty is a profound reflection on the book Silence by Shusaku Endo, the role of art and beauty in Christianity, and a reflection of the impact of Christianity on the culture of Japan. I am not going to say tons more about it now because I have purchase the paperback copy of Silence (I listened to it on audiobook the last time I read it) and I am going to reread Silence and Beauty again.
Seriously, this is an excellent book. As a side note, I purchase the hardcover because I was encouraged to get it that way. It has a nice dust jacket and full color images in the center. I re-purchased the Kindle edition because I prefer ebooks and I want to highlight passages for help in writing another review. The Kindle edition has the images in line with where they are talked about in the text. And if you are reading on a color tablet, then the images are in color. Obviously if you reading on a black and white eink reader, the images are black and white.
My full initial review is on my blog at http://bookwi.se/silence-beauty/
second review is at http://bookwi.se/silence-and-beauty/
Seriously, this is an excellent book. As a side note, I purchase the hardcover because I was encouraged to get it that way. It has a nice dust jacket and full color images in the center. I re-purchased the Kindle edition because I prefer ebooks and I want to highlight passages for help in writing another review. The Kindle edition has the images in line with where they are talked about in the text. And if you are reading on a color tablet, then the images are in color. Obviously if you reading on a black and white eink reader, the images are black and white.
My full initial review is on my blog at http://bookwi.se/silence-beauty/
second review is at http://bookwi.se/silence-and-beauty/
January 10, 2023
In the 1980's I read the book Silence by Shusaku Endo, a Japanese Christian. It is the story of persecution against Christians in Japan that started in the early 1600's and went for 250 years. That book bothered me for many years. Maokot Fukimura is a Japanese American artist and Christian who wrestled with the book Silence as well and wove it together with his art and Christianity.
To appreciate this book you must read Silence first. But once you have, Fujimura's book is very helpful and will deepen and round out your understanding. I wish I had this book 35 years ago, but grateful that I have the opportunity to read it now. Probably time to reread Silence.
I also recommend the movie Silence produced by Martin Scorese. It is true to the story and is very well done.
To appreciate this book you must read Silence first. But once you have, Fujimura's book is very helpful and will deepen and round out your understanding. I wish I had this book 35 years ago, but grateful that I have the opportunity to read it now. Probably time to reread Silence.
I also recommend the movie Silence produced by Martin Scorese. It is true to the story and is very well done.
Read
September 3, 2016"Silence is beauty; beauty is silent."
November 2, 2022
When I began reading Fujimura’s Silence+Beauty, I didn’t realize that the Silence referred to was the Endō novel. I haven’t read Silence yet, having had a hard time finding a copy on multiple occasions when I searched it out. Having seen the film and read the companion play The Golden Country, I have been an Endō fan for a few years now with a handful of his other novels on my “to read” list. As I dove in, I was delighted to find that this book hit so close to home.
Silence+Beauty covers a lot of ground. It is part literary criticism, part autobiography, part theological exploration, part Japanese cultural exposé, part history lesson, and part artistic manifesto. It bounces back and forth between a lot of subject matter, drawing links between a lot of concepts in a way that somehow works out quite well.
Ultimately, this book is a detailed exploration of the work and Christian artistic philosophy of Shūsaku Endō, of his period dramas about Christian persecution in Edo period Japan, and of his own responses to being a Christian in Japan before and after the World Wars. Endō was an outsider in most ways and his art portrays complex Christian themes that somehow managed to resound in the hearts of the Japanese and the world.
Endō was a Catholic in Japan who eventually traveled to France and back before becoming a breakout novelist. He never felt completely at peace with his faith and culture, feeling they were unsuited to one another. He called Japan a “mud swamp” in which Christianity could not take root. But this was not always so. When Jesuit missionaries came to Japan roughly half a millenium ago, the Japanese people eager converted to Christianity by the hundreds of thousands. When Christianity was outlawed, it was estimated that 300,000 native Japanese had become Christians. Some where national leaders in the arts and politics. Many hundreds were martyred in some of the most horrifically creative torture methods ever devised. The rest were required to apostatize and every year, the people had to step on a bronze image of the Christ and public ally reject him.
Even so, when the country opened its borders hundreds of years later, the new western missionaries found that there were still hundreds of secret Christians living in Japan, complete with their own sort of pidgin Latin/Portuguese and a whole host of Buddha-disguised icons of the Christ.
Generations and generations of these Christians had lived in secret, hiding their faith, policed by their neighbors, and required regularly to deny Christ and step on his face in public. How could they manage it? How could they justify such behavior? How does God move in and among us when we reject Him, when we are too weak to bravely march to our doom? How did the Japanese psyche evolve under such totalitarian control?
Endō used his art and his lifetime to explore these questions. He felt out of place and a Catholic and a Japanese and when he traveled to Europe he felt equally out of place. Likewise, his own struggle with weak faith and God’s character are put on open display in his addressing of a tortured past.
Fujimura relates in many ways to Endō. He compares his experiences of 9/11 with those of the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, his position as an American Japanese with that of a Catholic Japanese, and the struggle to make beautiful art in a modern world with the open struggle of faith in a crippled world. Exploring all corners of history and his own experience, Fujimura makes a compelling case for a Christian faith that embraces brokenness and failure as daily reflections, asking not how God could allow suffering but what we must do with it. It seems clear that God is not handing us suffering, but that he is walking ever pace with us in the midst of it, even as we deny Him and cast blame in His direction with our oppressors. When we stop ignoring pain, suffering, and our own constant short-comings, we can begin to truly live as Christians, providing comfort, companionship, and glimpses of beauty and hope rather than delusional platitudes and whitewashed perspectives.
Silence+Beauty covers a lot of ground. It is part literary criticism, part autobiography, part theological exploration, part Japanese cultural exposé, part history lesson, and part artistic manifesto. It bounces back and forth between a lot of subject matter, drawing links between a lot of concepts in a way that somehow works out quite well.
Ultimately, this book is a detailed exploration of the work and Christian artistic philosophy of Shūsaku Endō, of his period dramas about Christian persecution in Edo period Japan, and of his own responses to being a Christian in Japan before and after the World Wars. Endō was an outsider in most ways and his art portrays complex Christian themes that somehow managed to resound in the hearts of the Japanese and the world.
Endō was a Catholic in Japan who eventually traveled to France and back before becoming a breakout novelist. He never felt completely at peace with his faith and culture, feeling they were unsuited to one another. He called Japan a “mud swamp” in which Christianity could not take root. But this was not always so. When Jesuit missionaries came to Japan roughly half a millenium ago, the Japanese people eager converted to Christianity by the hundreds of thousands. When Christianity was outlawed, it was estimated that 300,000 native Japanese had become Christians. Some where national leaders in the arts and politics. Many hundreds were martyred in some of the most horrifically creative torture methods ever devised. The rest were required to apostatize and every year, the people had to step on a bronze image of the Christ and public ally reject him.
Even so, when the country opened its borders hundreds of years later, the new western missionaries found that there were still hundreds of secret Christians living in Japan, complete with their own sort of pidgin Latin/Portuguese and a whole host of Buddha-disguised icons of the Christ.
Generations and generations of these Christians had lived in secret, hiding their faith, policed by their neighbors, and required regularly to deny Christ and step on his face in public. How could they manage it? How could they justify such behavior? How does God move in and among us when we reject Him, when we are too weak to bravely march to our doom? How did the Japanese psyche evolve under such totalitarian control?
Endō used his art and his lifetime to explore these questions. He felt out of place and a Catholic and a Japanese and when he traveled to Europe he felt equally out of place. Likewise, his own struggle with weak faith and God’s character are put on open display in his addressing of a tortured past.
Fujimura relates in many ways to Endō. He compares his experiences of 9/11 with those of the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, his position as an American Japanese with that of a Catholic Japanese, and the struggle to make beautiful art in a modern world with the open struggle of faith in a crippled world. Exploring all corners of history and his own experience, Fujimura makes a compelling case for a Christian faith that embraces brokenness and failure as daily reflections, asking not how God could allow suffering but what we must do with it. It seems clear that God is not handing us suffering, but that he is walking ever pace with us in the midst of it, even as we deny Him and cast blame in His direction with our oppressors. When we stop ignoring pain, suffering, and our own constant short-comings, we can begin to truly live as Christians, providing comfort, companionship, and glimpses of beauty and hope rather than delusional platitudes and whitewashed perspectives.
February 8, 2019
I can't decide whether or not I want to rate this 4/5 stars or 3.5/5 stars. This was such an interesting and fascinating read. It's going to be so hard to put down all my thoughts on it, especially since it took a while for me to read it and I neglected to write down my thoughts when I was reading the beginning! I know I won't be able to fully explain what I thought well, but I just want to make a few notes on it even if just for my own sake.
First off, you can tell this book was written by an artist. The way he writes and the way he analyzes everything is done in such an artist-way, if that makes any sense! I felt like sometimes, though, the information wasn't always super organized or clear. And occasionally he would mention something very interesting, or make a connection, but without explaining it in depth (or at least not in as much depth as I would've liked). The connections he made and the different angles with which he looked at things (such as the fumi-e) were very interesting. However, I didn't always quite fully understand or grasp them. For instance, sometimes I felt as though he applied the fumi-e as an idea in different ways, which was very interesting and enlightening, but also somewhat confusing and hard to always fully grasp or reconcile. BUT that may be more my problem than anything, especially since I have not yet actually read Silence.
I really loved when he explored in depth the artisans of the 16th century such as Sen no Rikyu and Hasegawa Tohaku, and now I honestly really want to learn more about these people. And his insights into Japanese culture in general were really interesting. I loved the hopefulness that he emphasized in this whole discussion about Japan and Endo's Silence.
AND AGAIN, this was an incredibly fascinating read and I'm so glad I read it. So much of what Fujimura said, even the things that left me a little bit stumped and confused or not quite sure if I agreed with him, were very thought-provoking and gave me A LOT to chew on. I also believe that reading this has made me more mentally and emotionally ready to read Silence. And so, because of this book, I plan on reading Silence, and also hopefully some of the other books written by Fujimura.
There's a lot more I could say about this, but I'm bad with in-depth, clear reviews (or at least it takes a long time for me to write one), so I'll just end with saying that I am VERY glad I read Silence and Beauty, and I'm very sorry if my review was confusing and vague. I wasn't exactly super aiming to make this review incredibly clear (which may be silly when I literally pointed out that sometimes I felt like Fujimura's writing wasn't always clear eek).
First off, you can tell this book was written by an artist. The way he writes and the way he analyzes everything is done in such an artist-way, if that makes any sense! I felt like sometimes, though, the information wasn't always super organized or clear. And occasionally he would mention something very interesting, or make a connection, but without explaining it in depth (or at least not in as much depth as I would've liked). The connections he made and the different angles with which he looked at things (such as the fumi-e) were very interesting. However, I didn't always quite fully understand or grasp them. For instance, sometimes I felt as though he applied the fumi-e as an idea in different ways, which was very interesting and enlightening, but also somewhat confusing and hard to always fully grasp or reconcile. BUT that may be more my problem than anything, especially since I have not yet actually read Silence.
I really loved when he explored in depth the artisans of the 16th century such as Sen no Rikyu and Hasegawa Tohaku, and now I honestly really want to learn more about these people. And his insights into Japanese culture in general were really interesting. I loved the hopefulness that he emphasized in this whole discussion about Japan and Endo's Silence.
AND AGAIN, this was an incredibly fascinating read and I'm so glad I read it. So much of what Fujimura said, even the things that left me a little bit stumped and confused or not quite sure if I agreed with him, were very thought-provoking and gave me A LOT to chew on. I also believe that reading this has made me more mentally and emotionally ready to read Silence. And so, because of this book, I plan on reading Silence, and also hopefully some of the other books written by Fujimura.
There's a lot more I could say about this, but I'm bad with in-depth, clear reviews (or at least it takes a long time for me to write one), so I'll just end with saying that I am VERY glad I read Silence and Beauty, and I'm very sorry if my review was confusing and vague. I wasn't exactly super aiming to make this review incredibly clear (which may be silly when I literally pointed out that sometimes I felt like Fujimura's writing wasn't always clear eek).
February 20, 2018
Fujimura weaves together - with one uniting thread being Shusaku Endo's novel Silence - Japanese culture since the Tokugawa era, Japanese art as it expresses a certain hiddenness or ambiguity, and Fujimura's own journey as a Christian, a Japanese "outsider", and an artist.
This book is deeply personal and full of compassion - in the form of grief and hope - for Japanese culture. Fujimura's other books, which I hope to read, probably flesh this out more, as it seems his interest is broadly in contextualizing the Gospel in every culture. But for him Japan inherently carries a special ability, maybe a much-sought key, to re-relate the Gospel to other cultures through their "Ground Zeros" because of its own tragic history. There is suffering and trauma everywhere, and in those darkest places and hours, a re-telling of the suffering of Christ can bring healing. Japanese culture may be able to re-tell that event and the implications of it in a relevant and healing way because of, and in spite of, its grievous past and its surprising and unique obsession with beauty.
I'll need to read this book again, I think, to understand it more fully. And perhaps I'll need to re-read Silence, since this book has opened up many, many more doors into understanding Endo's work than I ever thought.
2/20/18, After further thought:
Fujimura, I don't think, delineates this specifically in his writing of this book, but what I gleaned essentially from reading it is a new understanding of Art. (For others in the Art world, the following is probably obvious, but for me it is a revelation.) And that is that the beauty of Art is in its honest expression through imperfect individuals. What's magical about it is that when it is truly Art, it is inspired by Something outside the individual, yet through the individual. Poets talk of the Muse, etc. I believe this inspiration is from the Wisdom of heaven (Proverbs from the Bible speaks of it). But Art is not perfect as though straight from the perfection and holiness of heaven; it is inspired by the Wisdom of heaven, but it is allowed to be imperfectly expressed through sin-carrying people. It is beautiful in its honesty, and it is glorifying to the Perfect One - the Master Creator and Designer of All. Art is a gracious act of Beauty, born of a place of perfection and produced through vessels of vulnerability and limitation. This is what makes it Lovely.
I think this is sort of what Fujimura is getting at with regards to Japan, as well, in this book, Silence and Beauty. Japan is ravaged by multiple "ground zeros" and by sin. It is very scarred and its people are hurting and resorting to extreme behaviors. But there is a Beauty being silently and ambiguously expressed through and in spite of this terrible, tragic, vulnerability. This ability to identify and create and live this Beauty is glorifying to the Beautiful One - Jesus, who was the Word that spoke Beauty into existence. It was made for, by, and through him. His name is being glorified throughout Japan's history in a rebellious refusal to be squelched, in an impossible marsh land of despair (according to Endo). The Life of his holiness cannot be stomped out. It can be stomped on and worn smooth (fumie), but in the worn-ness itself, in the suffering itself, the beauty of his Love comes through. When we are identifying with Jesus, we are identifying with him in his suffering. While his Creation demonstrates his glory and perfection, it is his suffering that demonstrates the force of his Love. This Love is his willingness to stoop and be among us in our mess. He makes things beautiful from inside the mess. He makes Japan beautiful from inside the woundedness. The artists know this, or at least long for this knowledge.
This book is deeply personal and full of compassion - in the form of grief and hope - for Japanese culture. Fujimura's other books, which I hope to read, probably flesh this out more, as it seems his interest is broadly in contextualizing the Gospel in every culture. But for him Japan inherently carries a special ability, maybe a much-sought key, to re-relate the Gospel to other cultures through their "Ground Zeros" because of its own tragic history. There is suffering and trauma everywhere, and in those darkest places and hours, a re-telling of the suffering of Christ can bring healing. Japanese culture may be able to re-tell that event and the implications of it in a relevant and healing way because of, and in spite of, its grievous past and its surprising and unique obsession with beauty.
I'll need to read this book again, I think, to understand it more fully. And perhaps I'll need to re-read Silence, since this book has opened up many, many more doors into understanding Endo's work than I ever thought.
2/20/18, After further thought:
Fujimura, I don't think, delineates this specifically in his writing of this book, but what I gleaned essentially from reading it is a new understanding of Art. (For others in the Art world, the following is probably obvious, but for me it is a revelation.) And that is that the beauty of Art is in its honest expression through imperfect individuals. What's magical about it is that when it is truly Art, it is inspired by Something outside the individual, yet through the individual. Poets talk of the Muse, etc. I believe this inspiration is from the Wisdom of heaven (Proverbs from the Bible speaks of it). But Art is not perfect as though straight from the perfection and holiness of heaven; it is inspired by the Wisdom of heaven, but it is allowed to be imperfectly expressed through sin-carrying people. It is beautiful in its honesty, and it is glorifying to the Perfect One - the Master Creator and Designer of All. Art is a gracious act of Beauty, born of a place of perfection and produced through vessels of vulnerability and limitation. This is what makes it Lovely.
I think this is sort of what Fujimura is getting at with regards to Japan, as well, in this book, Silence and Beauty. Japan is ravaged by multiple "ground zeros" and by sin. It is very scarred and its people are hurting and resorting to extreme behaviors. But there is a Beauty being silently and ambiguously expressed through and in spite of this terrible, tragic, vulnerability. This ability to identify and create and live this Beauty is glorifying to the Beautiful One - Jesus, who was the Word that spoke Beauty into existence. It was made for, by, and through him. His name is being glorified throughout Japan's history in a rebellious refusal to be squelched, in an impossible marsh land of despair (according to Endo). The Life of his holiness cannot be stomped out. It can be stomped on and worn smooth (fumie), but in the worn-ness itself, in the suffering itself, the beauty of his Love comes through. When we are identifying with Jesus, we are identifying with him in his suffering. While his Creation demonstrates his glory and perfection, it is his suffering that demonstrates the force of his Love. This Love is his willingness to stoop and be among us in our mess. He makes things beautiful from inside the mess. He makes Japan beautiful from inside the woundedness. The artists know this, or at least long for this knowledge.
Read
February 26, 2023For the 2023 #vtReadingChallenge, this is book #7 for the category "A Book Recommended by a Family Member". My copy of this book was a gift from my widely-read and deeply thoughtful brother Neil, and he also gave the book a 5-star rating here on GoodReads, so that makes it doubly-recommended, I would say.
The book is variously a meditation on Shusaku Endo's novel "Silence", Japanese history and culture, cross-cultural Christian missions (and the difficulties thereof), and the ways in which literature, art, and other forms of cultural expression relate to all those topics. It also related some of the author's experiences of having lived very close to the 9/11 Ground Zero (although I gather he may have written more extensively about that in one of his other books) and his subsequent visits to the Nagasaki Ground Zero as well.
I will say, I can completely understand why my brother loved this book, but it was a bit hard for me to completely connect with it. I think there are, roughly speaking, Artist brains and Engineer brains, and as much as I love the arts, I definitely think like an engineer. I think this book was written primarily to communicate with other artists. I also have fairly limited knowledge of Japanese culture (outside of the Studio Ghibli films of Hayao Miyazaki, which I love, and which do get a brief mention in this book). I have read Endo's novel Silence, once, and I will likely read it again someday, with the benefits of the insights into that book which this book have given me. I definitely gained some understanding of Japanese culture and Japanese ways of thinking, speaking, and writing, but had I come to this book with greater knowledge of all things Japan, I might have gained more from it.
I appreciate Makoto Fujimura's hopefulness for the future of Christianity in Japan, and the loving, patient, artistically beautiful work that he is doing to build those bridges.
The book is variously a meditation on Shusaku Endo's novel "Silence", Japanese history and culture, cross-cultural Christian missions (and the difficulties thereof), and the ways in which literature, art, and other forms of cultural expression relate to all those topics. It also related some of the author's experiences of having lived very close to the 9/11 Ground Zero (although I gather he may have written more extensively about that in one of his other books) and his subsequent visits to the Nagasaki Ground Zero as well.
I will say, I can completely understand why my brother loved this book, but it was a bit hard for me to completely connect with it. I think there are, roughly speaking, Artist brains and Engineer brains, and as much as I love the arts, I definitely think like an engineer. I think this book was written primarily to communicate with other artists. I also have fairly limited knowledge of Japanese culture (outside of the Studio Ghibli films of Hayao Miyazaki, which I love, and which do get a brief mention in this book). I have read Endo's novel Silence, once, and I will likely read it again someday, with the benefits of the insights into that book which this book have given me. I definitely gained some understanding of Japanese culture and Japanese ways of thinking, speaking, and writing, but had I come to this book with greater knowledge of all things Japan, I might have gained more from it.
I appreciate Makoto Fujimura's hopefulness for the future of Christianity in Japan, and the loving, patient, artistically beautiful work that he is doing to build those bridges.
August 5, 2022
Like Shūsaku Endō’s "Silence" and Martin Scorsese adaption of the novel, Makoto Fujimura raises more questions and ambiguity than straight-forward answers. At least this how I experienced “Silence and Beauty”...
What might it look like to pay attention to hidden elements of subversion, devotion and beauty even in seemingly black/white apostasy narratives? What is the calling of the minister or the artist when these elements are culture-specific? Should churches struggle to integrate stories of Christian failure alongside stories of success? WHAT DEFINES FAILURE AND SUCCESS IN THE FIRST PLACE?
Also, Fujimura can be extremely critical of Japanese culture, while only a few pages later speak really tenderly of this traumatized country. It would seem like many Christians could learn a lesson or two here on how to strike this balance.
What might it look like to pay attention to hidden elements of subversion, devotion and beauty even in seemingly black/white apostasy narratives? What is the calling of the minister or the artist when these elements are culture-specific? Should churches struggle to integrate stories of Christian failure alongside stories of success? WHAT DEFINES FAILURE AND SUCCESS IN THE FIRST PLACE?
Also, Fujimura can be extremely critical of Japanese culture, while only a few pages later speak really tenderly of this traumatized country. It would seem like many Christians could learn a lesson or two here on how to strike this balance.
August 20, 2023
"An integrated approach to culture, what I call "culture care" (as opposed to culture wars), allows for the nurturing side of faith to develop within the soil of Japanese culture. [...] In such an ecosystem the gospel can come alive in ways that we have not been able to fully experience in the West. Japanese beauty is the ideal spouse to Western rationalism."
Navigating the worlds of West and East and his own cultural heritage, Makoto Fujimura writes on the psyche (and faith) of the Japanese in the wake of their history. The book finishes with a reflection about moving from a katakana to a hiragana faith; an authentic Japanese embrace of Christianity in its current Christ-hidden culture.
An intriguing and uplifting read that left me thinking about the expressions of the gospel in both the East and the West, and a fuller (and more beautiful!) vision of the global Church.
Navigating the worlds of West and East and his own cultural heritage, Makoto Fujimura writes on the psyche (and faith) of the Japanese in the wake of their history. The book finishes with a reflection about moving from a katakana to a hiragana faith; an authentic Japanese embrace of Christianity in its current Christ-hidden culture.
An intriguing and uplifting read that left me thinking about the expressions of the gospel in both the East and the West, and a fuller (and more beautiful!) vision of the global Church.
December 3, 2023
A lengthy treatment of Shusaku Endo’s Silence and simultaneously a discussion of Japanese culture. A bunch of interesting insights by Fujimura. I don’t think I would have appreciated it as much if I hadn’t already read and enjoyed his other book. A lot of the discussion surrounds Endo’s book and how Japanese Christians were broken under persecution and continued their faith in secrecy. It’s hard to evaluate that kind of situation and discern how to gain principles from it, which I am not convinced Endo or Fujimura do well. Even so, I found some of Fujimura’s points to be really good. Like how the best way to deal with trauma isn’t to ignore it, hide from it or deny it, but to look it square in the face and pass through it. Dante had to pass through hell to get out of the dark wood. We will have to suffer our own hells to get to the paradise on the other side.
February 10, 2019
Fujimura seems to write (consciously or not, it's unclear) much like his nihonga style of art - many rich and changing layers reveal prose on top of autobiography, biography, cultural explanation, philosophical musings, and faith reflections. His is a unique style and one that took me several chapters to appreciate, but reading it with the context of his artistic work helped me enjoy his layered, sometimes abstract, contemplations more.
The last two chapters were excellent, and his reflections on Japan and the fumi-e culture scattered throughout will be continued food for thought.
The last two chapters were excellent, and his reflections on Japan and the fumi-e culture scattered throughout will be continued food for thought.
September 10, 2024
I went into this book expecting it to be a general Christian book on suffering. It did deal with that a bit, but I learned way more about Japan, its trauma, art, pain, and beauty than I expected. When finishing the book I didn’t feel it terribly applicable to me, yet I can’t stop thinking about some of the things I learned in broadening my cultural horizons. It’s so easy to stay so focused on my own life I forget how God is working across the world. This book shows clearly his love is big enough for our failures and sustaining enough for our sufferings. Even in his silence he speaks.
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