Denver Catholic

23 DENVER CATHOLIC | JANUARY 28-FEBRUARY 10, 2017 Rogue One's Chirrut and Baze are not a couple I think sexuality is very import- ant, but when the world I live in constantly tells me that all of my intimate relationships should be erotic in nature, something rebels inside of me. This happened recently upon read- ing specu- lation on the internet that the relation- ship between Chirrut Imwe and Baze Malbus in the new Star Wars movie, Rogue One, is of a homosexual nature. As I watched Rogue One, I was deeply moved by the characters and relationship of Chirrut and Baze. How- ever, I was disgusted when I noticed how many articles were implying, or reading into these characters and their relationship, a homosexual romance. I do not think this is the right or true interpretation of Chirrut and Baze's relationship, but rather a projection of our social norms into these characters, which speaks to a huge hole in our social life. ª In the movie, there is no evidence of any physical aŠection between Chirrut and Baze. We never hear them calling each other pet-names or nick- names like most lovers would do. And they never talk about a common life together beyond their common mis- sion as Guardians of the Whills. I propose that Chirrut and Baze are friends — may I go so far as to say they are intimate friends — but that their friendship is not based on physical attraction, but rather on a common, unchanging purpose. In fact, I think Chirrut and Baze are good role models for what ails our society. To begin with, it is fruitless to try to understand these characters without a religious lens. They are both Guardians of the Whills in the Star Wars universe, which means they are attached to the religion of the Force. Chirrut is a monk, and as far as we can, tell Baze is a disillusioned monk. I don't have to try very hard to convince anyone who has seen this movie of Chirrut's faith in the Force. Baze even makes fun of Chirrut for praying while they are locked in jail cell. And not to mention, Chirrut is blind, an obvi- ous symbol most world religions use to describe the life of someone who believes in a higher power. It seems more likely to me that Chirrut and Baze are friends because of their common love for the Force and the temple of Jedha. They both believe in something greater than themselves and they were both drawn to become war- rior monks in service of the temple in Jedha and to promote the Light side of the Force throughout the galaxy. They grew closer as they found that they both had a common, unchanging purpose in love and service of the temple in Jedha. I do not think many people have an experience of this kind of friendship, so the tendency is to force spiritual and intimate relationships into a sexual context. There is something deeply flawed in our society if we think that all moments of intimacy end with an erotic act. It's a symptom of a culture that is oversaturated with an unhealthy view of sexuality, and is ignorant of diŠerent kinds of intimacy. Loneliness is increasing in the world, and we are told that more sex is the answer. I disagree. We are lonely because we have acquaintances and sexual partners, but very few intimate friends. Our society is starving for true inti- macy. When I say intimate, I do not mean sex. True intimacy is sharing my deepest thoughts, feelings and desires with another person. What we all really want is true intimacy with others — a deep sharing of our hearts. One way to achieve this desire is to begin establishing relationships based on a common purpose. The more we tend to make every intimate relationship a sexual relation- ship, the more self-absorbed and less free we will become. I propose we con- sider the model of Chirrut and Baze, who love each other as friends, founded on a common purpose of service to the Light side. This frees them to be intimate with each other in a manner that is only possible if there is a higher power or greater cause that both men worship and seek to serve. If their rela- tionship becomes self-absorbed and all about "us," then it will quickly devolve into using the other person for his own emotional or physical pleasure. I would also suggest that in the real world there are many examples of healthy friendships between persons of the same sex that are not homosex- ual in nature. For example, there are many Catholic priests who are living in this kind of intimacy with their brother priests. And I would even dare to say that there are people with same sex attraction who have taken Jesus' call to chastity seriously and are living in a healthy non-erotic intimacy with their friends. Not only is it possible, but it's urgently necessary. Guest Column Father O'Neill is the vocations director for the Archdiocese of Denver. FATHER RYAN O'NEILL with excrement, he is given the oppor- tunity, once more, to step on a depic- tion of the face of Christ. At the height of his anguish, resisting from the depth of his heart, Rodrigues hears what he takes to be the voice of Jesus himself, finally breaking the divine silence, telling him to trample on the image. When he does so, a cock crows in the distance. In the wake of his apostasy, he follows in the footsteps of Ferreira, becoming a ward of the state, a well-fed, well-provided for philos- opher, regularly called upon to step on a Christian image and formally renounce his Christian faith. He takes a Japanese name and a Japanese wife and lives out many long years in Japan before his death at the age of 64 and his burial in a Buddhist ceremony. What in the world do we make of this strange and disturbing story? Like any great film or novel, Silence obviously resists a univocal or one- sided interpretation. In fact, almost all of the commentaries that I have read, especially from religious people, emphasize how Silence beautifully brings forward the complex, layered, ambiguous nature of faith. Fully acknowledging the profound psy- chological and spiritual truth of that claim, I wonder whether I might add a somewhat dissenting voice to the conversation? I would like to propose a comparison, altogether warranted by the instincts of a one-time sol- dier named Ignatius of Loyola, who founded the Jesuit order to which all the Silence missionaries belonged. Suppose a small team of high- ly-trained American special ops was smuggled behind enemy lines for a dangerous mission. Suppose further- more that they were aided by loyal civilians on the ground, who were eventually captured and proved will- ing to die rather than betray the mis- sion. Suppose finally that the troops themselves were eventually detained and, under torture, renounced their loyalty to the United States, joined their opponents and lived comfort- able lives under the aegis of their former enemies. Would anyone be eager to celebrate the layered com- plexity and rich ambiguity of their patriotism? Wouldn't we see them rather straightforwardly as cowards and traitors? My worry is that all of the stress on complexity and multivalence and ambiguity is in service of the cultural elite today, which is not that diŠer- ent from the Japanese cultural elite depicted in the film. What I mean is that the secular establishment always prefers Christians who are vacillating, unsure, divided, and altogether eager to privatize their religion. And it is all too willing to dismiss passionately religious people as dangerous, vio- lent, and let's face it, not that bright. Revisit Ferreira's speech to Rodrigues about the supposedly simplistic Christianity of the Japanese laity if you doubt me on this score. I wonder whether Shusaku Endo (and perhaps Scorsese) was actually inviting us to look away from the priests and toward that wonderful group of cou- rageous, pious, dedicated, long-suŠer- ing lay people who kept the Christian faith alive under the most inhospita- ble conditions imaginable and who, at the decisive moment, witnessed to Christ with their lives. Whereas the specially trained Ferreira and Rodrigues became paid lackeys of a tyrannical government, those simple folk remained a thorn in the side of the tyranny. I know, I know, Scorsese shows the corpse of Rodrigues inside his co°n clutching a small crucifix, which proves, I suppose, that the priest remained in some sense Chris- tian. But again, that's just the kind of Christianity the regnant culture likes: utterly privatized, hidden away, harmless. So okay, perhaps a half-cheer for Rodrigues, but a full- throated three cheers for the martyrs, crucified by the seaside.

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