Dear family, friends, and Internet strangers,
The November letter is finally out! It’s later than I’d like; I have had more headaches recently, and have had a difficult time writing and editing because of them.
I also didn’t feel like I had a specific topic for this month. As in October, “my thoughts have been colorful and various,” not focused on a single preoccupation. And from the beginning of this Substack, I have not wanted to “create content” just to put words online. I want these to matter, or, at least, to be authentic.
I’ve had fun over the last month, with my birthday and various other occasions, but I’ve also been depressed at how little I’ve gotten done and all the brain fog that goes with headaches and sleep problems.
Two small victories:
I did finish setting up a page on my website where I can show off my visual art. As of this writing, it features just eight pieces from the last six years; I plan to add more someday, but I wanted to get a “minimum viable product” (for you Agile people) out. If you’re curious, see it here.
And after dragging my feet through reading the last few chapters, I finally finished Silence by Shūsaku Endō.
Endō’s Silence
I was not expecting a happy ending, having already seen Martin Scorsese’s movie version; the minor-note ending of the film is what ultimately drove me to read the book. I was seeking a resolution in a major key, though I knew it would not come. The last chapter of the novel looks like the beginning of a meaningful ending, but then the appendix appears to shoot that down.
Last month, I quoted The Chosen’s Matthew character to explain why I wanted to finish reading Silence: “I want to understand things, especially inscrutable things that unsettle me.”
It’s still inscrutable, and I am still unsettled. So, like Matthew in The Chosen, and the prayer tassels he keeps in storage, I’ll hang onto Silence. I’ll look at it from time to time, until I’m satisfied. I have been trying to write something about it, but I don’t have the words yet.
For those who don’t know, Silence is based on the historical persecution of Christians in 17th century Japan, in its Edo/Tokugawa period. It follows a Portuguese Jesuit priest who sneaks into the country as a missionary at the time of this persecution.
The novel features an especially cruel Japanese magistrate named Inoue who knows that Christians are willing to become martyrs, and who thus takes an even more twisted approach to their torture based on that knowledge. Inoue may be fiction, but the torture and the forcible rejection of the faith really happened. The Japanese Christians who survived were driven to hide their faith, even disguising their imagery as Buddhist in order to survive.
The whole Christian tradition that was brought to Japan in the 16th century was, as far as I’m aware, Catholic. “Apostasy” in Silence and in the Tokugawa period was tested by ordering people to trample on the fumie, an image that’s supposed to represent Christ. As a non-Catholic, I do not see a painting, drawing, or engraving as Christ. This drove me bananas when we saw the movie. “Step on it,” I thought. “That is an object. Just step on the thing. That’s not apostasy.”
But the way the priest sees the world changes, and it’s interesting to see more of the details of his thoughts within the novel; eventually, as he grows, and as he begins to see God differently, he accepts the distinction between the Catholic church and the Lord God Himself, and the distinction between his personal reputation as a Jesuit priest and true sacrificial love. He discards what he cannot keep in order to maintain a true faith. But what “sacrificial love” looks like is not what you’d expect; what would I have done in his shoes?
There’s a deeper level of “botheredness” for me that comes from another place. Because of the historical cruelty described in this novel, my thoughts keep returning to, essentially, theodicy, the justification of “why a perfectly good, almighty, and all-knowing God permits evil”, as the online Encyclopædia Britannica puts it.
People have been discussing theodicy for millennia. The Book of Job, believed to be the oldest book of the Bible, gets into this topic, as Job’s friends believe God has afflicted him as punishment, and God has other, higher reasons for afflicting His righteous servant.
I tried to write about theodicy for this letter, but hours of attempts resulted only in seeing that “I have uttered what I did not understand,” as Job put it. God is not asking for my justification.
Instead I felt God turn me, gently, to multiple passages that seem to address this issue, most notably 2 Corinthians chapter 4, written from the Apostle Paul to the early church at Corinth. It’s worth reading the whole chapter in full; these excerpts stand out in the context of Silence:
“But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you.”
-2 Corinthians 4:7-12 (ESV)
and
“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”
-2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (ESV)
I hate suffering of all kinds; I have to remember that there are unseen, eternal things that matter more, and that the temporary, however painful, is not the point. I have to remember God is above all of it. There is grace in all of it. That is enough.
I know that seems like a cop-out for a lot of people. The priest in Silence tries to reach for such answers, and is unable to rest fully in them.
But in the end, the priest in Silence concludes that God was not actually silent. Job heard the voice of God and responded with a humbled repentance. And in my life, God has not been silent, even if I’ve perceived Him to be.
So if this season has brought challenges or suffering for you, I only say, ask Him directly. Ask Him new questions or the same questions. He speaks; He may be speaking already, in ways you forgot to look for.
Nozomi Project
“Nozomi” is Japanese for “hope”. Nozomi Project is “a faith-based social enterprise” in Japan that began with a desire to do something beautiful with the broken pottery left after the tsunami that hit the Tōhoku area of Japan in 2011. The results are beautiful pieces of jewelry, a stronger community, donations to various groups, and training and employment for a number of women in Ishinomaki, Japan.
Because Nozomi Project’s origin story began with “a team of Japanese and American Christians”, and because the focus is on “beauty in brokenness”, it’s particularly meaningful to me that I circled back to it while reading Silence.
My parents bought me two necklaces I liked for my birthday in October, which I requested, as I’ve wanted one for a while and I noticed they’re closing Nozomi Project by December 11, 2023. This was my last chance. I let my parents pick out one (because of my indecision), and the second one I chose echoes the gray sky and sea of Silence.
I believe Nozomi Project is holding various sales in the next three weeks as they prepare to wind down the project for good.
Besides jewelry, they have two gorgeous styles of Christmas ornament: Heirloom, shaped like a manger holding the Christ child, with the star of Bethlehem above, and Pottery, which is a simple circle. None of these are affiliate links; I just like them.
Writing and Other Updates
I’ve been moving right along through…the same chapter of my novel I’ve been on for a while. I was tempted to delete this section for November. I did work on it, but it’s so slow.
There have been challenges. As I mentioned above, some things have contributed to extra headache and migraine days, plus I’ve spent time on a few other areas this month, including continuing to edit a client’s book.
And, of course, I got this Substack out. My goal was to send one each month through 2023. So far, I’ve succeeded. As the year winds down, I need to evaluate whether continuing this into 2024 is wise.
Language Things
Pitch-in, not potluck: My friend Tina Marie Cox recently posted about two “potlucks” she attended that significantly affected her (“A Tale of Two Potlucks”, Let’s Be Real, 14 November 2023), and I realized how foreign that word is to me after eight years in central Indiana. A lot of people call a potluck a “pitch-in” here, and I don’t know why it hasn’t caught on elsewhere yet. It sounds so much nicer. Let’s all “pitch in” a dish, recognizing the effort of others who pitch in, too, rather than hoping we get lucky with what other people bring.
And speaking of Portugal and Japan: Turns out the word “tempura”, as in delicious fried snacks at Japanese restaurants, comes from the Latin phrase for “in the time of” Lent or other days of fasting, as brought to Japan by Portuguese Catholics. If you’re fasting from meat, fried vegetables are still allowed! For this and other stories of Portuguese dishes: David Farley, “The truth about Japanese tempura”, BBC, 10 August 2017.
One fact from the CMOS November Q&A: If I ever knew this, I’d forgotten it. “Da Vinci” is not the last name of the famous Leonardo da Vinci. He was from Vinci, or “of Vinci”, a town in the Tuscany region of Italy. Calling him “Da Vinci” is like referring to Jesus as “Of Nazareth” and nothing else. “I’m grateful Of Nazareth died on the cross for my sins.” “I believe Of Nazareth rose from the dead.”
It’s going to be a difficult habit for me to break, though. Besides, language is about communication, and “Da Vinci” communicates a specific person nowadays, where “Of Nazareth” does not, by itself. I’ll try not to get pedantic when I hear other people say “Da Vinci” on its own. (Maybe.) I found this one in the Chicago Manual of Style’s November Q&A.
Happy Thanksgiving! That’s it for November. If any of this was valuable to you—interesting, useful, or beautiful—share it with someone:
“For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”
— 2 Corinthians 4:6 (ESV)
To truth, love, and adventure,
Rae
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