Why Does God Allow Us to Suffer? - A Study of The Brothers Karamazov
The Grand Inquisitor pays us a visit...
Dostoevsky wrote that “beauty will save the world,” and I happen to think he’s right. And I also happen to believe that if ever there was a time the world needed to be saved, it’s now. So we’re going to spend some time paying attention to beauty. We’ll be looking at books, poems, music and art that exude beauty, and as a result, we will become more beautiful ourselves. Let’s begin.
Today we’re going to be discussing one of the most beautiful books of all time: “The Brothers Karamazov” by Fyodor Dostoevsky.
I first read this book in 2013, when I was a freshman in college. I remember loving the book, and the characters and a few of the ideas stuck with me more than many ever have. And ever since I first read it, it’s been calling out to me, and I knew that at one point, I would read it again. And what better time than a decade later? And as I’m in the midst of rereading this novel, it’s striking me how different my experience is the second time around. Of course, as it has been ten years, I’m a different person now, and as I’m reading and it’s being reflected back to me how much I’ve changed, it’s as if I’m reading a completely different book. But, it’s still even more powerful and beautiful the second time around.
Now, we could spend days, weeks, months, and years talking about this novel. It’s huge – and I’m not just talking about the 776 page length of this work. It’s biblical, it’s mythological, it’s philosophical, and it’s partially autobiographical. It’s layered and complex and psychological and cognitively challenging. So today, I’m going to narrow this discussion down to a few chapters, which I believe form the crux of the novel. We’ll be picking up in the middle of the book, so there will be spoilers. However, I don’t think this is the type of book that you need to be spoiler-free for. Actually, the plot of this novel is of secondary importance. It doesn’t matter so much WHAT happens, this novel is not plot-driven; it’s thought-driven.
The Brothers Karamazov is broken into four parts, and those parts have books and chapters. So we will be examining book five, which is titled “Pro and Contra,” and book six, which is titled “The Russian Monk.” As this book was originally written in Russian, the translation we will be reading from is the Pevear and Volokhonsky. It’s very important, if you’re considering picking up your own copy of the book, to go with the right translation, and I believe this is the best. Since this discussion will also refer to the Bible, we will be reading from the English Standard Version, as this is the translation I’m most familiar with.
So without further ado, let’s get into our discussion.
PART 1: THE PROBLEM OF PAIN
When we first meet Ivan, the middle Karamazov brother, we meet a young man who is extremely intellectual, logical, and sharp. Like Hamlet, He enjoys playing with words, words, words. And he enjoys creating arguments that challenge organized religion. For instance, he makes the argument page 69 that
“there is decidedly nothing in the whole world that would make men love their fellow men… for every separate person who believes neither in God nor in his own immortality, the moral law of nature ought to change immediately into the exact opposite of the former religious law, and that egoism, even to the point of evildoing, should not only be permitted to man but should be acknowledged as the necessary, the most reasonable, and all but the noblest result of his situation.”
He is making the argument that if there’s no such thing as God and immortality, then there’s no such thing as virtue. And if this is true, then “everything is permissible.” But when he’s saying all this, he’s saying it at a monastery, and one of the monks, by the name of Father Paissy, sort of calls his bluff. He says to Ivan “this idea is not yet resolved in your heart and torments it… the question is not resolved in you, and there lies your great grief, for it urgently demands resolution…” and he continues to see right through Ivan, telling him “you yourself know this property of your heart, and therein lies the whole of its torment. But thank the Creator that he has given you a lofty heart, capable of being tormented by such a torment, ‘to set your mind on things that are above, for our true homeland is in heaven.’” And rather than bristling at what Father Paissy says to him, he “suddenly rose from his chair, went over to him, received his blessing, and having kissed his hand, returned silently to his place.” A kiss is a mysterious kind of response. We will see several more of those throughout this section.
Alexei, the younger Karamazov brother, has been living in the monastery for a while when we meet him, and he has a pure heart. Now keep in mind that in Russian novels, nobody is referred to by just one name. And their nicknames can throw you for a loop if you’re not used to reading Russian literature. So, Alexei is typically called “Alyosha,” which is an endearing nickname – he’s immediately dear to everyone. He observes without judging, listens without interrupting, and loves without condemning. His heart aches when he admits on page 164 that “my brothers are destroying themselves, and my father, too. And they’re destroying others with them. This is the ‘earthy force of the Karamazovs,’… earthy and violent, raw… whether the Spirit of God is moving over that force – even I do not know. I only know that I myself am a Karamazov…”
WHAT’S IN A NAME?
Before we continue, let’s talk about that name, Karamazov. In the book Character Names in Dostoevsky by Charles E. Passage, he wrote that “‘Karamazov’ means ‘black smear,’ and the black smear in question is the ‘black smear’ of sensuality, which marks all four bearers of the name. The word divides into three components: kara, maz, and the commonplace ending -ov. The element maz has the sense of “smear” and more particularly from the verb mazat ‘to smear,’ ‘to daub.’ The element kara means ‘black’ in Turkish.” “There is also a Russian noun kara, meaning “punishment, penalty, chastisement.”
So when Alexei says “I myself am a Karamzov,” he is speaking from the conviction planted in his heart by his spiritual father, the monk under which he is a novice, Father Zosima, that “each of us is undoubtedly guilty on behalf of all and for all on earth…”(164), by bearing the name of his sinful father and brothers, he is bearing their guilt alongside them.
THE BROTHERS GET ACQUAINTED
It is to Alexei that Ivan truly shares what’s tormenting him, in chapter 3 of book 5, “The Brothers Get Acquianted,” Ivan shares two totally contradictory ideas. On the one hand, he tells Alexei of his
“childlike conviction that the sufferings will be healed and smoothed over, that the whole offensive comedy of human contradictions will disappear like a pitiful mirage, a vile concoction of man’s Euclidian mind, feeble and puny as an atom, and that ultimately, at the world’s finale, in the moment of eternal harmony , there will occur and be revealed something so precious that it will suffice for all hearts, to allay all indignation, to redeem all human villainy, all bloodshed; it will suffice not only to make forgiveness possible, but also to justify everything that has happened with men.”
But while one side of Ivan holds this childlike conviction, the rational side of him “[does] not accept it and [does] not want to accept it!” (236) This reminds me of a story from the gospel of Mark, in chapter 9, verses 14-24: a man brings his son to Jesus, saying “Teacher, I brought my son to you, for he has a spirit that makes him mute. And whenever it seizes him, it throws him down, and he foams and grinds his teeth and becomes rigid.” Jesus asks him to bring the boy, and “they brought the boy to him. And when the spirit saw him, immediately it convulsed the boy, and and he fell on the ground and rolled about, foaming at the mouth. And Jesus asked his father, ‘How long has this been happening to him?’ And he said, ‘From childhood. And it has often cast him into fire and into water, to destroy him. But if you can do anything, have compassion on us and help us.’ And Jesus said to him, ‘If you can’! All things are possible for one who believes.’ Immediately the father of the child cried out and said, ‘I believe; help my unbelief!’”
I BELIEVE; HELP MY UNBELIEF!
Belief and unbelief are NOT mutually exclusive. I know because belief and unbelief have been wrestling inside of me for as long as I can remember. What Ivan is struggling with here is the natural struggle of anyone with a logical brain. And he brings up a question that anyone with a feeling heart struggles with: how can there be a loving God who allows children to suffer? This is the question of Theodicy, the endeavor to answer the question of how a good and just God can permit evil. Ivan has been collecting stories from newspapers and court cases – stories that are shocking in their cruelty and brutality toward innocent children. And in this propensity to cruelty, Ivan places man lower than animals: “People speak sometimes about the ‘animal’ cruelty of man,” he says “but that is so terribly unjust and offensive to animals, no animal could ever be so cruel as man, so artfully, so artistically cruel.” (237) Who among us, believer or unbeliever, hasn’t looked around at the world and been appalled at the atrocities human beings have committed? We are so overwhelmed by it that we cannot even bear to open our eyes to the extent of human depravity. We don’t like to think about children being abused, so those of us who are able to ignore it, often do. Ivan tells one particularly horrific story about a boy who throws a rock at the paw of his ‘master’s” favorite dog, and as a punishment the master sends his pack dogs to rip the boy apart. Ivan declares that nobody has a right to forgive something so terrible. And if this is the world in which God rules, Ivan wants no part of it. He is thinking about ending his life when he turns 30. He wonders “whether tis nobler in the mind to suffer / the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, / or to take arms against a sea of troubles / and by opposing end them…” He asks Alexei: “is there in the whole world a being who could and would have the right to forgive?”
“IS THERE IN THE WHOLE WORLD A BEING WHO COULD AND WOULD HAVE THE RIGHT TO FORGIVE?
Alyosha responds that “there is such a being, and he can forgive everything, forgive all and for all, because he himself gave his innocent blood for all and for everything. You’ve forgotten about him, but it is on him that the structure Is being built, and it is to him that they will cry out: ‘just art thou, O Lord, for thy ways have been revealed!’”
And this is just the opportunity Ivan has been waiting for, because he has a bit of a bone to pick with this Jesus, who “you people love to bring up.” He’s come up with something he calls a poem, which is titled “The Grand Inquisitor,” In this poem, Jesus revisits earth fifteen centuries after he has promised to return quickly. He enters the stage in 16th century Seville, during the Spanish Inquisition, where perceived heretics are being burned for public entertainment. Everyone recognizes him immediately. And how do they recognize him immediately? Because truth and goodness and beauty are immediately recognizable. But he’s quickly thrown into jail. The church does not welcome his return.
Before we continue, lets turn to the book of Luke, chapter 4, verses 1-13. The Grand Inquisitor will be referring to this passage, in which Jesus is tempted by Satan in the desert.
LUKE 4:1-13: JESUS IS TEMPTED
And Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness 2 for forty days, being tempted by the devil. And he ate nothing during those days. And when they were ended, he was hungry. 3 The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become bread.” 4 And Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Man shall not live by bread alone.’” 5 And the devil took him up and showed him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time, 6 and said to him, “To you I will give all this authority and their glory, for it has been delivered to me, and I give it to whom I will. 7 If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8 And Jesus answered him, “It is written,
“‘You shall worship the Lord your God,
and him only shall you serve.’”
9 And he took him to Jerusalem and set him on the pinnacle of the temple and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10 for it is written,“‘He will command his angels concerning you,
to guard you,’
11 and
“‘On their hands they will bear you up,
lest you strike your foot against a stone.’”
12 And Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13 And when the devil had ended every temptation, he departed from him until an opportune time.
THE CHARGES OF THE GRAND INQUISITOR
The Grand Inquisitor believes that Jesus didn’t do right for humanity by turning down these temptations. Let’s start with the first propisition: turn stones into bread. Nobody will be hungry again. Page 252, the Grand Inquisitor charges Jesus that he could have saved people from the suffering of hunger:
“But you did not want to deprive man of freedom and rejected the offer, for what sort of freedom is it, you reasoned, if obedience is bought with loaves of bread?
Do you not know that centuries will pass and mankind will proclaim with the mouth of its wisdom and science that there is no crime, and therefore no sin, but only hungry men? Feed them first, then ask virtue of them!” (252)
The Grand Inquisitor rebukes Jesus, saying that men have more pressing needs than freedom – they need to eat. He believes Jesus should have accepted the offer. But he very clearly understands why Jesus did not:
Had you accepted the ‘loaves,’ you would have answered the universal and everlasting anguish of man as an individual being, and of the whole of mankind together, namely: before whom should I bow down? There is no more ceaseless or tormenting care for man, as long as he remains free, than to find someone to bow down to as soon as possible… You knew this essential mystery of human nature, but you rejected the only absolute banner, which was offered to you to make all men bow down to you indisputably—the banner of earthly bread; and you rejected it in the name of freedom and heavenly bread. (252)
The second temptation was to rule over all the kingdoms of the earth. Had Jesus accepted the offer of universal rulership, he would have provided everyone with “a means for uniting everyone at last into a common, concordant, and incontestable anthill—for the need for universal union is the third and last torment of men.” (256) If he would have accepted the temptation to rule over the kingdoms of the earth, there would have been peace, but again, he came to win the free love of the people, not to force it with miracles.
The third temptation Jesus faced was the offer to throw himself down from the temple and to be saved by angels. The Grand Inquisitor charges Jesus: You did not come down because, again, you did not want to enslave man by a miracle and thirsted for faith that is free, not miraculous. You thirsted for love that is free, and not for the servile raptures of a slave before a power that has left him permanently terrified… respecting him so much, you behaved as if you had ceased to be compassionate, because you demanded too much of him.” Therefore, as a result of Jesus’ rejecting the opportunity to rid man of discomfort, the Grand Inquisitor announces that the church will accept the temptations of Satan in his place, declaring:
“we are not with you, but with him! That is our secret! Exactly 8 centuries ago we took from him what you so indignantly rejected, that last gift he offered you when he showed you all the kingdoms of the earth: we took Rome and the sword of Ceasar from him, and proclaimed ourselves sole rulers of the earth, the only rulers…. we shall convince them that they will only become free when they resign their freedom to us, and submit to us…. They will marvel and stand in awe of us and be proud that we are so powerful and so intelligent as to have been able to subdue such a tempestuous flock of thousands of millions. They will tremble limply before our wrath, their minds will grow timid, their eyes will become as tearful as children’s or women’s but just as readily at a gesture from us they will pass over to gaiety and laughter, to bright joy and happy children’s song. Yes, we will make them work, but the hours free from labor we will arrange their lives like a children’s game, with children’s songs, choruses, and innocent dancing. Oh, we will allow them to sin, too; they are weak and powerless, and they will love us like children for allowing them to sin…. The most tormenting secrets of their conscience—all, all they will bring to us, and we will decide all things, and they will joyfully believe our decision, because it will deliver them from their great care and their present terrible torments of personal and free decision…”
WE ARE NOT WITH YOU, BUT WITH HIM!
Many people have read this admission of the Inquisitor’s as Dostoevsky attacking the church. But I believe he’s actually attacking any belief system, religious, political, or other, that takes away people’s freedom of choice by buying their allegiance with bread and comfort and the alleviation of their consciences. In The Greatness of Man: An Essay on Dostoevsky and Whitman, Perry D. Westbrook writes
“To Dostoevsky, the significance of Christ was in his placing full moral responsibility upon the individual rather than on the State or any other organization. Insofar as the Roman Catholic Church took unto itself the individual’s responsibility of free choice, it was to Dostoevsky anti-Christian… Dostoevsky himself emphasized that he was speaking to the political reformers, the builders of modern towers of Babel, that is, socialistic and other sociopolitical shortcuts to heaven which deprive man of his freedom of choice between good and evil.”
In Galatians 5:1, Paul writes “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.”
In his essay Philosopher of Freedom, Gary Saul Morson writes that “freedom comes with a terrible cost, and social movements that promise to relieve us of it will always command a following.” There are two views of life that we can fall under, writes Morson; “one view, which the Inquisitor rejects, is Jesus’s: human beings are free and goodness has meaning only when freely chosen. The other view, maintained by the Inquisitor, is that freedom is an insufferable burden because it leads to endless guilt, regret, anxiety, and unresolvable doubts. The goal of life is not freedom, but happiness, and to be happy people must rid themselves of freedom and adopt some philosophy claiming to have all the answers. The third Karamazov brother, Dmitri, has remarked: ‘Man is broad, too broad; I’d have him narrower!’ and the Inquisitor would ensure human happiness by ‘narrowing’ the human nature.”
Ultimately, I believe that human suffering exists because of human freedom. We are set free and can freely love God and each other as a result, but with that freedom we are able to do horrible things as well; and any system that offers to alleviate us of the burden of freedom is actually a yoke of slavery, which is what Christ came to abolish. Christ respected man so much that he allowed him to choose between good and evil. He came to broaden humanity, leaving us with the burden of free choice.
Ivan ends his poem thus:
“When the Inquisitor fell silent, he waited some time for his prisoner to reply. His silence weighed on him. He had seen how the captive listened to him all the while intently and calmly, looking him straight in the eye, and apparently not wishing to contradict anything. The old man would have like him to say something, even something bitter, terrible. But suddenly he approaches the old man in silence and gently kisses him on his bloodless, ninety-year-old lips. That is the whole answer. The old man shudders. Something stirs at the corners of his mouth; he walks to the door, opens it, and says to him: ‘go out and do not come again… do not come at all… never, never!’ … and the kiss burns in his heart.”
THE KISS BURNS IN HIS HEART
After Ivan finishes his poem, Alyosha asks him if he truly believes that “everything is permitted,” and Ivan answers that he does not renounce it. Alyosha responds by kissing him on the lips, and Ivan accuses Alyosha of “literary theft!” but we’re left to assume that the kiss burns in Ivan’s heart, too.
On page 230, Alyosha has told Ivan to “love life more than it’s meaning, to love it before logic.” Logically, Ivan’s argument makes sense, but deep down he doesn’t truly believe that everything is permitted. Because he cites injustice toward children, therefore he believes that some things are not permitted, and therefore, according to his own logic, there must be virtue, and there must be immortality. He knows in his heart that there is good and there is evil, and this is what truly torments him. He has presented us with the problem of pain and suffering and a fallen world, and now another character will show us the solution.
PART 2: LOVE BEFORE LOGIC
Dostoevsky named book 6 “The Russian Monk.” It contains the final thoughts and teachings of Elder Zosima, the spiritual father of Alexei. Dostoevsky considered this section to be the most important in the novel, for in it he endeavored to overturn the arguments against Christ made in the Grand Inquisitor chapter. He wrote in a letter that “the blasphemy” of the fifth book would be “triumphantly overturned” in the next book, “on which I am now working with fear, trembling, and devotion.” He continued, writing that “I consider this sixth book to be the culminating point of the novel…”
In this book, Elder Zosima begins by telling the story of his older brother Markel, who died as a child. As Markel inches closer and closer to death, he begins to say things that sound like madness to those around him. He tells his mother not to weep, for “life is paradise, and we are all in paradise, but we do not want to know it, and if we did want to know it, tomorrow there would be paradise the world over.” (288) Later, he speaks words that we’ve heard Zosima speak earlier in the novel, but never explained: “each of us is guilty in everything before everyone, and I most of all.” He asks the birds for forgiveness, he tells his brother Zosima to “go now, play, live for me!,” and he dies, leaving behind the seeds of his spiritual teachings to grow through his brother.
In the wake of Markel’s death, Zosima experiences the gospel for the first time. On page 291 he says “I looked with deep tenderness, and for the first time in my life I consciously received the first seed of the word of God in my soul.” He is brought to redemption by the book of Job – and interestingly, Dostoevsky draws Satan back into the narrative, making him truly a character in the novel as the key antagonist.
THE STORY OF JOB TOLD BY ELDER ZOSIMA, A READING FROM PAGES 291-292:
“There was a man in the land of Uz, rightful and pious, and he had so much wealth, so many camels, so many sheep and asses, and his children made merry, and he loved them very much and beseeched God for them: And Satan goes up before God together with the sons of God, and says to the Lord that he has walked all over the earth and under the earth. ‘And have you seen my servant Job?’ God asks him. And God boasted before Satan, pointing to his great and holy servant. And Satan smiled at God’s words: ‘Hand him over to me and you shall see that your servant will begin to murmur and will curse your name.’ And God handed over his righteous man, whom he loved so, to Satan, and Satan smote his children and his cattle, and scattered his wealth, all suddenly, as if with divine lightning, and Job rent his garments and threw himself to the ground and cried out: ‘Naked I came out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return to the earth: the Lord gave and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord henceforth and forevermore!’…
Later I heard the words of the scoffers and the blasphemers, proud words: how could the Lord hand over the most beloved if his saints for Satan to play with him? … Only so as to boast before Satan: ‘see what my saint can suffer for my sake!’ But what is great here is this very mystery – that the passing earthly image and eternal truth here touched each other. In the face of earthly truth, the enacting of eternal truth is accomplished. Here the Creator, as in the first days of creation, crowning each day with praise: “that which I have created is good,’ looks at Job and again praises his creation. And Job, praising God, does not only serve him, but will also serve his whole creation, from generation to generation and unto ages of ages, for to this he was destined. Lord, what a book, what lessons! What a book is Holy Scripture, what miracle, what power are given to man with it! Like a carven image of the world, and of man, and of human characters, and everything is named and set forth unto ages of ages. And so many mysteries resolved and revealed: God restores Job again, gives him wealth anew; once more many years pass, and he has new children, different ones, and he loves them – oh Lord, one thinks, ‘but how ould he so love those new ones, when his former children are no more, when he has lost them? Remembering them, was it possible for him to be fully happy, as he had been before, with the new ones, however dear they might be to him?’ But it is possible, it is possible: the old grief, by a great mystery of human life, gradually passes into quiet, tender joy; instead of young, ebullient blood comes mild, serene old age: I bless the sun’s rising each day and my heart sings to it as before, but now I love its setting even more, its long slanting rays, and with them quiet, mild, tender memories, dear images from the whole of a long and blessed life—and over all is God’s truth, moving, reconciling, all-forgiving!
In this story, Zosima sees the mystery of human suffering, loss, and revival. Job’s response to suffering is to remain faithful to God. He does not get an easy life, and yet after he loses everything he holds dear, and continues to love God, he is blessed and what has been lost is restored.
And this seed of the Gospel stays with Zosima and bears fruit throughout his life. He says on page 294, “Only a little, a tiny seed is needed: let him cast it into the soul of a simple man, and it will not die, it will live in his soul all his life, hiding there amidst the darkness, amidst the stench of his sins, as a bright point, as a great reminder. And there is no need, no need of much explaining and teaching. He will understand everything simply.” And this seed has also been planted in Ivan – it’s what’s tormenting him. It burns in his heart no matter how hard he tries to suppress it.
THE REDEMPTIVE GRACE OF BEAUTY
There is great sin and darkness in this world, but there is great beauty also. Remember Ivan’s mention of animals, and how they are morally superior to humans because they are not cruel? Zosima also mentions the beauty of animals and nature, which are emblems of grace in God’s creation: “Each blade of grass,” he tells us on page 294,
“each little bug, ant, golden bee, knows its way amazingly; being without reason they witness to the divine mystery, they ceaselessly enact it…. All things are good and splendid, because all is truth. Look at the horse… that great animal that stands so close to man, or the ox, that nourishes him and works for him, so downcast and pensive, look at their faces: what meekness, what affection for man, who often beats him mercilessly, what mildness, what trustfulness, and what beauty are in that face. It is even touching to know that there is no sin upon them, for everything is perfect, everything except man is sinless, and Christ is with them even before us… for the word is for all, all creation and all creatures, every little leaf is striving towards the Word, sings glory to God, weeps to Christ, unbeknownst to itself, doing so through the mysteries of its sinless life…”
“The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the sky above[a] proclaims his handiwork.”
Writes David in Psalm 19.
“How good it is,” concludes Zosima, “how good and wonderful that all is God’s!”
While Ivan surveys the ugliness of evil by focusing on man’s brutality, Zosima finds evidence everywhere of the goodness of God, who created such a beautiful world, full of everything sinless, that we have the pleasure to live in.
“Look at the divine gifts around us: the clear sky, the fresh air, the tender grass, the birds, nature is beautiful and sinless, and we, we alone, are godless and foolish, and do not understand that life is paradise,” he tells his listeners on page 299.
But how do we enter into that paradise? Zosima’s answer comes from the seed planted in him by his dying brother: acknowledge that you are guilty before all and for all. And “indeed it is true that when people understand this thought, the Kingdom of Heaven will come to them, no longer in a dream but in reality.”
BUT I’M A GOOD PERSON!
And here’s where any self-respecting person starts to bristle: how can I be guilty for the sins of others? We might ask. Sure, I’m not perfect. But I’m not a MURDERER. I haven’t done anything THAT bad, and I can list at least 10 other people I know who are way worse than me.
But this is what it means to take up the cross and suffer and die with Christ. He bore the sins of ALL. He wasn’t defensive on the cross, saying “I didn’t do that! Why should I be punished for it!” Rather, he beseeched God on man’s behalf: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Zosima’s teaching is that this is what you are to do if you want to see the Kingdom of Heaven: ask everything and everyone for forgiveness. Join the Apostle Paul, who said in first Timothy 1:15, “Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost.” On page 319. Zosima asks his listeners to be like his brother who
“asked forgiveness of the birds: it seems senseless, yet it is right, for all is like an ocean, all flows and connects; though it in one place and it echoes at the other end of the world. Let it be madness to ask forgiveness of the birds, still it would be easier for the birds, and for a child, and for any animal near you, if you yourself were more gracious than you are now, if only by a drop, still it would be easier… There is only one salvation for you: take yourself up, and make yourself responsible for the sins of men. For indeed it is so, my friend, and the moment you make yourself sincerely responsible for everything and everyone, you will see at once that it is really so, that it is you who are guilty on behalf of all and for all.”
EXCEPT A CORN OF WHEAT FALL UPON THE GROUND AND DIE, IT ABIDETH ALONE, BUT IF IT DIE, IT BRINGETH FORTH MUCH FRUIT
And what if we do good works but don’t immediately see the result? We take hope in the belief that the seed has been planted. Over and over again, Dostoevsky gives us the metaphor of a seed.
“Even if you do shine, but see that people are not saved even with your light, remain steadfast, and do not doubt the power of the heavenly light; believe that if they are not saved now, they will be saved later. And if they are not saved, their sons will be saved, for your light will not die, even when you are dead… your work is for the whole, your deed is for the future.
We have to wait for the good seeds we plant to bloom. There’s no instant gratification here, and many of the results of our good deeds are never seen by us. But they never go to waste, and we have to trust that they are always worth doing. One of Dostoevsky’s greatest influences was Charles Dickens, who wrote in The Old Curiosity Shop that
“there is nothing… no, nothing innocent or good, that dies, and is forgotten. Let us hold to that faith, or none. An infant, a prattling child, dying in its cradle, will live again in the better thoughts of those who loved it; and play its part, through them, in the redeeming actions of the world, though its body be burnt to ashes or drowned in the deepest sea… forgotten! Oh if the good deeds of human creatures could be traced to their source, how beautifully would even death appear; for how much charity, mercy, and purified affection would be seen to have their growth in dusty graves.
Humans suffer, and children suffer, but their suffering is not unredeemed by their creator. They suffer at the hands of individuals who have used their freedom to do evil. They die as a result of the fall. But there is nothing innocent that lives and dies and is forgotten, even if we never live to see the result of their innocent lives. They live on, as Markel lives on through the faith of his brother Zosima. This is the hope offered to us through this section.
For the epigraph to this novel, Dostoevsky chose John 12:24: Except a corn of wheat fall upon the ground and die, it abideth alone, but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.” We will all die, but the seeds we have planted on this earth live on. We do not get to see the fruits of our actions on this earth, but while we are here, we can heal others through bearing the cross alongside Jesus, accepting responsibility for the sins of the earth and praying continuously for forgiveness.
CONCLUSION: THE KINGDOM OF GOD IS IN THE MIDST OF YOU
In these two sections, Dostoevsky offers us a glimpse of the world through two different worldviews: One in which we agree that Christ ultimately failed humanity by giving men the freedom to sin, and one in which we join with Christ in redeeming a fallen humanity through bearing responsibility for our sins. One worldview leaves us to hopelessly shake our fist at a God who allows children to suffer; the other gives us the opportunity to find redemption through participation with the suffering of Christ and his gift of salvation.
Alexei, who has decided to heed Zosima’s imperative to love everyone and to bear responsibility for the sins of all, is therefore able to love his brother and everyone he meets, though they are depraved and rebellious. And through his love, he touches them with a grace that is undeniable, something that makes even Ivan say “perhaps I want to be healed by you,” something that allows him to admit to his “childlike conviction” that all will be redeemed in the end.
Jesus said, in Luke 17:20-21, “The kingdom of God is not coming in ways that can be observed, nor will they say, ‘Look, here it is!’ or ‘There!’ for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you.”
Hell is on earth, and the argument of the Grand Inquisitor makes it clear that the kingdom of Hell plans to advance by enslaving people in the chains of comfort and security, but Heaven is here, too, among us, when we love one another and bear our cross, allowing the redemption of Christ to take place among us as we die and are raised to new life with him.
Today, the choice is yours: surrender your freedom in the name of security and happiness, and let your thoughts, actions, and feelings be decided by the majority, or to choose the path of responsibility for your own sins and those of others. Ask the birds for forgiveness, even if you feel like a crazy person while doing it, and before you judge anyone, recognize your own pride and ask forgiveness for that too. Continue to ask forgiveness until you realize that you have contributed to the suffering on this earth, for by doing so you will be healing the world and turning your allegiance to the Kingdom of Heaven, and you will plant seeds that will bring forth much fruit in the future. Will you take the Inquisitor’s offer, or will you choose the freedom and responsibility and joy that come from following the path of Christ?
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