Rodrigues’s changing perception of Christ’s face represents his perception of Christ as both a persecuted human figure and as his Lord. When Rodrigues is naïve, convinced of the purity of his mission to Japan and yet unhindered by doubt or despair, he imagines that Christ’s face is the most beautiful face ever beheld, as beautiful as a lover’s face gazing at their beloved. However, as Rodrigues suffers and witnesses suffering, as his faith becomes less idealistic, his perception of Christ shifts to viewing Christ primarily as one who is alone, one who feels fear and even despair, abandoned by God; consequently, he pictures Christ face not as beautiful but as distant and concerned, sweating blood with fear. When Rodrigues is about to commit apostasy and trample on the fumie, Christ speaks to him as one who entered the world to suffer, who brought himself low to be trampled on by men and bear their pain alongside him. Thus, the image of Christ’s face that Rodrigues sees in the fumie is hollowed, dirty, and worn-out from being trampled on by so many feet over the years. Although Christ is no less meaningful to Rodrigues, he imagines his face not as beautiful but as aged and worn as the subject of abuse and betrayal, a parallel to Rodrigues’s own persecution and ongoing struggle with faith as a Portuguese Catholic missionary in Japan.
Christ’s Face Quotes in Silence
You know well that the early Christians thought of Christ as a shepherd […] And then in the Eastern Church one finds the long nose, the curly hair, the black bear. All this was creating an oriental Christ. As for the medieval artists, many of them painted a face of Christ resplendent with the authority of a king.
Yes, crouching on the ashen earth of Gethsemane that had imbibed all the heat of the day, alone and separated from his sleeping disciples, a man had said: “My soul is sorrowful even unto death.” And his sweat became like drops of blood. This was the face that was no before [Rodrigues’s] eyes. Hundreds and hundreds of times it had appeared in his dreams; but why was that only now did the suffering, perspiring face seem so far away? Yet tonight he focused all his attention on the emaciated expression on those cheeks.”
This guard did not possess any aristocratic cruelty; rather was it the cruelty of a low-class fellow toward beasts and animals weaker than himself. [Rodrigues] had seen such fellows in the countryside in Portugal, and he knew them well. This fellow had not the slightest idea of the suffering that would be inflicted on others because of his conduct. It was this kind of fellow who had killed that man whose face was the best and most beautiful than ever one could dream of.
Yet the face was different from that on which the priest had gazed so often in Portugal, in Rome, in Goa and in Macao. It was not a Christ whose face was filled with majesty and glory; neither was it a face made beautiful by endurance of pain; nor was it a face filled with the strength of a will that has repelled temptation. The face of the man who lay at his feet was sunken and utterly exhausted.