“Do You Love Us?”
In October our reading group took up Black Robe, and entered into Brian Moore’s literary recreation of seventeenth-century New France, the vast, cold, thinly-populated wilderness that had its capital in the small village of Quebec. It’s a sad, thoughtful novel that has no illusions about this world and its peoples. The Indians, whom the novel calls “Savages� as the French did, are treacherous, foul-mouthed, and cruel. The French colonizers are rapacious and brutal. The central character, a Jesuit named Laforgue, is blundering and naïve – a far cry from the masterful Jesuits of missionary lore. There’s no mutual enrichment in the meeting of European and native cultures. Indian and Frenchman fear and mistrust each other, and fail to grasp, much less value, each other’s social and spiritual worlds. Black Robe is a novel with many virtues. Chief among them is its brooding exploration of what Christian missionary work means in a circumstance of total cultural misunderstanding.
Father Laforgue undertakes a harrowing 500-mile journey by canoe in the company of band of Algonquin Indians to relieve a fellow Jesuit marooned among the Huron tribe. The trip claims the lives of several of Laforgue’s Indian guides, and Laforgue himself nearly dies several times. The journey causes a profound spiritual upheaval. He doesn’t understand the culture and spiritual world of his Indian companions, but he perceives them as fellow human beings. He cannot believe, as he has been taught, that they are excluded from God’s mercy simply because they are unbaptized. At the end of his terrible passage he finds a Huron village decimated by disease, which the Europeans, probably the Jesuits, have brought. The surviving Indians beg to be baptized, believing that this magical “water sorcery� will save their lives. Laforgue balks. He’s uncomfortable with this motive. He wants a more informed faith. A more European faith. The Huron chieftain confronts him with two questions:
“Are you our enemy?�
“No.�
“Do you love us?�
“Yes.�
“Then baptize us.�
This Laforgue does, realizing that the love of Christ can break down the ignorance and fear that afflicts them all.
It’s a satisfying conclusion. It’s also a realistically ambiguous one. One would like to see less superstition among new converts. But, as one member of our group noted, it is doubtless true that many of our ancestors were baptized in circumstances similar to these. The novel honestly shows the price that the gospel exacts. The Hurons accepted baptism knowing that it would destroy their culture and way of life. The Jesuit Laforgue left his familiar culture behind and endured great hardship in order to bring the gospel to people who would forever be strangers to him. It’s not comfortable to follow Christ.