Remembering the End: Dostoevsky as Prophet to Modernity

REMEMBERING THE END TRADITIONS Radical Traditions Theology in a Postcritical Key Series Editors: Stanley M. Hauewas...

Author: P. Travis Kroeker | Bruce Ward | Travis Kroeker

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REMEMBERING

THE END

TRADITIONS

Radical Traditions Theology in a Postcritical Key Series Editors: Stanley M. Hauewas, Duke University, and Peter Qchs, 'f;miwrsityof Virginia

BOOKS I N T H E SERIES:

Remembering the End; Dostoevsky as Prophet to Modernity; if), Travis Kroeker and Bruce K. Ward (CZhristianityin Jewish Terms, Tikva a7rymer-Kensks Davl'd Novak, Peter Ochs, Dayid Fox Sandme&Michael A, S i p e r The Body of Compassion: Ethics, Medicine, and the Church, Joel lames Shuman Church and Israel Afiter Christendom: The Politics of Election, Scost Bader-Slaye Reasoning AEter Revelation: Dialogue in Postmodern Jewish. Philosophy, Peter &h$, $¥ Kepnes, and R ~ b e rGibbs t Waiting for Godot in Sarajevo: Theological: Reflections on Nifiasm, Tragedy, and Apocalypse, David Toole Wilderness Wnderings: Probing Wentieth-Century Theolof~yand Philosophy, Stanley M. Ha~erwas Revelation Resmred; Divine Writ and Critical Responses, Dgvid Weiss Haliv~z' FORTHCOMING:

The Hexrneneutics of Love: A Theology of Reading, Ahn Jacobs Afier the Spirit: The Story of the Holy Spirit Eclipsed by Nature, Grace, and Law, Eugevze E Roger5 Jr. Ascending Numbers: Augustine's De Musiccn and the Western Tradition, Cath~rinePickstock

Radical Tr~ditionscuts new lines of inquiry across a confused array of debates concerning the place of theoloery in modernity and, more generally, the s ~ t u s and role of scriptural faith in contemporary life*Charged with a rejuvenated confidence, spawned in part by the rediscovery of reason as inesapably tradition constituted, a new generation of theologians and religous scholars is returning to scriptural traditions with the hope of retrieving resources long ignored, depreciated, and in many cases ideologically suppressed by modern habits of thought. Radial Si.aditiorrs assembXes a promising matrix of strategies, disciplines, and lines of thought that invites Jewish, Christian, and Islamic theologians back to the word, recovering and articulathg modes of scripturd reasoning as that which always underlies modernist reasoning and therefore has the capacity-and autlnoriv-to correct it, Far from despairing over modernity." ffailings, postcrhical theologies rediscover resources for renewal and self-correction within the disciplines of academic stutty themselves, Postcritical theologies open up the possi?oiliv of participating once again in the living relationship that binds together God, text, and community of interpretation, Radical Tradil.ions thus acfvocates a turn to the text:" which means a commitment to displaying the richness and wisdom of traditions that are at once text based, hermeneutical, and oriented to communaX practice,

Bosh in this series oEer the opportunity to speak opmly with practitioners of other faiths or even with those who pmfess no (or limited) faith, both acrzdemics and nonacademics, about the ways religious traditions address pivotal issues of the day. Unfettered by faundationalist preoccupations, these books represent a call for new paradigms of reason-a thinking and rationality that is more responsive than originative, By embracing a postcritial posture, they are able to speak unapologeticdly out of scriptural traditions manifest in the practices of believing communities f Jewish, Christian, and others); articuIate those practices through disciplines of philosophic, tmtual, and cuXtural criticism; and entf;zgeintellectual, social, and political practiws that for too long have been insulated from theological evaluation, Radical Tradit-z'onsis radical not only in its confidence in nonapologetic theological speech but also in how the practia of such speech chaaenges the current social and political arrangements of modernir)...

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REMEMBERING

THE END Dostoevsky as Prophet to Modernity

P. TRAVICS KROEKER BRUCE K, WARD

y y m A Member of the Perseus Books Group

Alf ri@ts re*med. Printed in the Ij'nited Sates of h e r i a . No part of this publiation m y be reproduced or transmitted in my form or by any means, deceonic or mechanid, includhg photocopy, recording, or any informdon storage and retriwd system,without permission in writing h r n the publisher. Copyri&htQ 2001 by Ws*w

Press, A Member of the Persetls Books Group

Published in 2001 in the United States of h e r i c a by Wesr-view Press, 5500 Cenwal Avenue, Boulder, Colorado 80301-2877, and in the Unkd b g d o r n by WesDrim Press, 12 Hi& Copse Road, C m n o r Hill, Qdorcf OX? 9JJ Find us on the World Wide Web at Library of Congress Gtdogngin-hbEcation Data Goeker, Travis (Peer Travis), 1952'Remembering the end :Dostomsb as prophet to modernity I by l? Travis Koekr and Bmce K, Ward. p. cm.-(Radical traditions) ISBM 0-8133-&08-5) (pbk,) 1. L>ostoyevsky$Fyodor, 1821-188 1-PMosophy. 2. Dostoyevsb, Fyodor, 1821-1881. Brat9 Kwamazov. 3. Dostoyevsb*Fyodor, 1821-188 1-Religion. I, Ward, Bmce. Kinsey, 11, Title. 111, Series.

The paper used in this pubEation meets the requirements of &e h e r i c i m Ma~onafSkndard for Permanace of Paper far Printed Library Matmids 239.48-1984.

This book is dedicdted i ~ . ochildren and tu paren;E;s To Sarah, Miriam, and Petm Stwart-Kroeker To Helen Ward

and Danafd K. Ward (February 16,rgz3 - March 28, zoaa)

"memory elernal. . . unto a p ofagas"


Contents

Credits and Ackrzowkedgments Introduction 1

Prophecy and Poetics

2 Dostoevsky%'The Grand Inquisitor" 3 Breaking the Seds: Dostoevsb and iMeaning in History. 4

The Inquisition of the Lamb: Dastoevsb, Revelation, and fustim

5 "Do You Despise or Love Humanit-y, You, Its Coming Saviours?" 6 The Third TempQtion:

God, 1nrrrnorklir-y;and Political Ethics 7 Christ in "The Grand Inquisitor"


Credits and A

ents

Alhough we bear joint responsibility.for the book as a whole, we think it best to specie who wrote which parts: Chapters I,4,6, and the second section of Chapter 7 ("The Silent Christ: A Theolo&ial.&dd3) w r e written by Travis Kroeker; Chapters 3 and 5, the first section of Chapter 7 (""XentiEyxng the Silent Christ: Sources, 'ParalIeXs, and (CZontrastsB")and the introdudory section of Chapter 2 were w r i ~ e nby Bruce Ward. An earlier version of a portion of Chapter 3 was published previously. under the title ""Dostoevsb and the Problem of Meaning in Ilistovy in Dostoevsky and the Twentiet-fiCentury: The Ljubbarza Papers, ed. Malcolm Jones (Nottingham, U.K.: Astra, 1993). Part of Chapter 5 also reflects an earlier article, "Dostoevsb and the Hermeneutics of Suspicion: puMished in Literamre & Theology, -vol. I I , no. 3 (September 1993).We wish to achowledge the editors of these publications. We thank Vintage Booh for permission to reprint Dostoevsws "The Grand Inquisitor" from Fyodor Dostoevsb, The Brothers Karammo-v, trans, %chard Pevear and Larissa Volafionsk (New York Gatage, l980), pp, 246-264, We are particularly grateful to Stanley Hauewas, coeditor of the Radical Trsiditions series, and to the three anonymous readers who scrutinized our manuscript Eor Weswievv Press. Their thoughthl and constructive comments were a great hdp. We wish also to thank the followhg people, who have heXped to support, stimulate, or enrich our thinking about Dostoevsky: Roger Anderson, Fred Bird, Harofd &ward and the Centre for Studies in Religion and Sociev at the University of Victoria, David Jasper and the Centre for the Study. of Literature and Theology at the Universiv of Glasgow, David Jefiey., Joel Marcus, Car1 Ridd, Jahn Robertson, Stephen Mres~cerholm,the faculv and students who participated in the

x i

C ~ e ~ x ArNsD ACKNQWLEDGMENTS

1993-1994 Dostoevsky Seminar at Lonergan College of ancordia University, and the participants in the Dostoevsky. seminar at McMaster University, Thanks also to Paul Corey; for help in preparing the manuscript, and ta David Penner b r compiling the indm. Special personal thanks are also extended ta Eriends and family: fiom Ilruce to Susan Srigley; b r her encouragement and her own ideas about propbecy and literature, and to his sons Ian and Graeme, for our ongoing dialowe about rnaMers poljiriical and historical; and from Travis to Cathy Stewart-Kroeker,for aU, manner of support and companionship-syirituaX, intellectual, emotional-and to friends at St. Cuthbert".

Introduction

Tormented with a spiritual thirst I trampled through a somber desert, And a seraph with six wings To me appeared across the way . . . And with sward he clove my chest, And my trembling heart plucked out, And a coal, aflame with fire, Thrust inm my gaping breast.. Like a desert's corpse I Iay, And Cod's voice called out: "Arise, 0 prophet, and see and hear, And fulfil1 my will, And as you circle sea and land With my ward bum human hearts*" -PUSHKEN, "THE PROPHET"

Nearing the end of a lifetime of formidable misfortune, in June 1880,Dostoevsky enjayed a, rare, syontaneouf outburst of publk acclaim. The occasion wits a speech he delivered in Moscow at the unveiling of a monument to the poet Pushkin. Xn an meited letter to his wife, written later that day, Dostoevsky described the earaordinav response of the large m w d : " h d when, at the end, I proclaimed thc universal oneness of mankind, the hall seemed to go into hysterics, and when I finished there was . . .elation. Rople in the audhnce who had never met before, wept, sobbed, embraced each other. . . .They kept calling me back for half an hour, waving their handkerchiefs., . . Trophet, prophet!>eople w r e shouting in the crowd."'

Dostoevsky evidendy took particular note of the accolade ""pophet" "rorolt), with good reason: The speech that had evoked this response was focused on the prophetic aspect of Pushkin" poetry; and later that day, in the find event of the kstivities, Dostoevsb was to give a dramatic reading af PushEn's poem ""The Propbet.""The judgment sf Dostaevsky"~Russian audience, that hb own vvclrds and work were prophetict has since k e n &ken up and confirm&, to the point af becoming a truism, by generations of readers throughout the world. This judgment is aErmed dso in the subtrirXe of this book-not by rote, but because we think that the prophetic significance of DostoevsE;y's art has neither been exhausted by scholarly commentary nor overtaken and rendered superfluous by the prophetic word, properly underevents of the mentieth century; Dostoevsk-y"~ stood, retains the power to "bum the hearts" of those who hear it. But what is the nature of this power? Many examples of Dostoevsky"~foresight into the mentieth century may be cited: visions sf tyranny; terror, and large-scale warfare endured by human masses; and of widespread alienation, and hquently desperate quests for meaning, among individuals, However, it is possible also to cite historical developments that belie Dostoevsky's propostications, especially those involving the desthy of his native Russia and its supposed mission of regenerating modern Western civilization. The power of Dostoevsws word cannot be assessed by tall-g his correct or incorrect predictions &out the future, as if he were a clairvoyant s r a diviner, The prophetic role in modernity is more prohuadly expressed in Heidegger's imav af the poet (specifically in rdation to Hakderlin) as "exposed ta the divhe lightrrings" as he stands attentive& in the realm of the Bertveen-be~een the gods and human beings. Heidegger would have it that the poet is the prophet of our era, the only one we-can have. Xn a postreligious age such as ours, the word of the poet, Dostoevsk-y"sincluded, has come to be regarded with a certain earnest reverence as a spiritual unveiling. Yet, what is sought so avidly. is a new spiritual also stands b e ~ e e nthe Noword, a word of nowlty; Heidegger" poet, after d, mare of "the gods that have fled" and the Not-yet of the '"od that is coming.""2 The prophet-the visionary poet who names the "new gadm-is the author af nove1t.y. The novelty of Dostoevs2ey"s art of the novel has been noted from the beginning. Bttkhtin" heralding of the open-ended dialogic or polyphonic world of Dostoevsk;y"snovels laid the foundations of a rich and fruithl reading that continues to ensure Dostoevsky a central place in the modern (and postmodern) consciousness, It is our view, however, that the characteristic modern focus on ven if of spiritual novelq-is based on an the prophet as the author of no

incomplete appreciation of the nature of Dostoevsws prophetic art: The power of Dostoevsws word is not primarily. a matter of novel^, The word in Dostowsky that still can burn the hearts of his readers is a remembered word. The insistent intertextuality.of Dastoevsws literary art is one of its chief features. His final. masterpiece, The Brotbzers Karamlazsv, in particular, appears to have swallowed an entire library; ranging from Dante, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Goethe, and Pushkin, to now all-but-forgotten Western and Russian minor authors and stories h m the Russian fo1Moric tradition, These multitudinous literary echoes, hotvever, are overpoweired by the utterly pervasive reverberation of the Bible-aU of it, from Genesis to Revelation. But the biblial sonority, is not strident or dodrinaire; if it were, Dostoevsky's art would not have been so frequently hailed as a harbinger of postmodern indeterminacy,Albougfi Dostoevsky"s al.Xusions to particular biblkal passages are myriad, the Bible serves primarily to anchor the overall vision-especially the ethical vision, The principal characteristic of Dostoevsws prophetic art, then, is neither historical prognostication nor spiritual novelty but remembered ethical &sion that speaks to the present. His word is prophetic in the manner of the genuine pmphet as characterized by Martin Buber: the one who, rather than announcing an immutable decree, ""speaks into the power of decision lfing in the moment,"3 The prophet has been aptly described as one who stands with ""one foot in the kronw the other in kairos . . . ear to eternity and mouth toward the city.'" This stance imposes a necessary balance b e ~ e e nrmembered vision and present engagement. We have attempted to read Dostoevsky as a writer who is thoroughly engaged with the modern present-not just ""from the outside" but from within his own inner experience, thinking, and instinct-and at the same time, rooted in the remembered mrd-both of the written Book and of the "Lhing B o o r of the Word incitrnate.5 Few would assert that me Divine Comedy of Dante can be fully appreciated without t&ng into account both its concerned engagrnent with the poet" secular present and its remembered Christian vision, We befieve that a complete understanding of the prophetic art of Dostoevsky can be attained only by using the same approach: Qne must forget neither how engaged with the consciousness of the secufar present his art is nor how Christian it is. The parallel b e ~ e e nn e Divine Comedy and The Brs-t-hersKaramazov breah down only in that the remembered religious Word of Dostoevsljryfs modern present is far more kagmented and distorted than that of Dante's present. In addition to further;ing a deeper reading of Dastoevsk;y, our primary goal in writing this book was one that would have interested Dostoevsb more: Through his work we have sought insight into the nature of the pEsenmoment in which we find ourselves, as individuals and as a society, required to decide. There is no

shortage of modern thinkers who advise that we decide resolutely; but we especially wish to heed those who might help us decide well.

Dostoevsky was both a literary artist and a rdigiaus thinker; we did not write this book on. the assumption that we must treat Rim as either one or the other. Giwn our overriding concern with the prophetic nature of his art, our reflection is preponderantly focused on his reli@ousthinkng. Vet it is also rooted in a close reading of Dostoevsky's art. That art serves always as the touchstone for our interpretation of his thought. Our reading of Dostoevsky is not primarily. a reading of the prose works-critical essays, journalism, and correspondencein which he speaks in his own name. Without any doubt, the significant expression of his prophetic word-and certainly of the word that can burn hearts-is his art. For us, the novels themselves constitute the litmus test for our understanding of his thought. The measure of that understanding is the degree to which it is confirmed by Dostoevsws art and enhances its appreciation. The principat source for our reflection on Dastoevsky's prophetic thought is which he was just finishing when he dehis last novel, The Brothers Karamaz~v~ livered his speech on Pushkn, He regarded this novel as the culmination of his work; perhqs he indeed saw it as the modern equivalent to The Divine Comedy that he believed needed to be written,"n it, be strove ta say all that be had in him to say, as artist and rdigious thinker, This immense novel is a recapi.t-uXation as well as a culmination of Dostoevsky" prophetic word, and it therefore sewes appropriately as our chief source (though other works will be referred to as required for the elaboration of particular themes), Dostoevsky's culminating novel finds its uculminating point" (Dastoevsky's own words) in the cha-gter entided "The Grand Inquisitor,'This single chapter is probably most responsible for Dostoevsws reputation as a prophetic voice for modernity, W have trherefore chosen to include the whole of "The Grand Inquisitor" in our book (see Chapter 2). Our book contains seven chapters in aU: Chapter X introduces the salient featwres of Dostoevsky" reli@ousthought in its prophetic enwgement with modernity, and explores the relationship bemeen prophecy and poetics in his art. Both in terms of literary genre and theological &sion, Dostoevsky's prophetic art may be defined as apocalyptic, It pain% toward the mysterious disclosure of the divine Word present in the hidden life of all material reafity, as its Eundamental principle of movement-the radical meaning of divine love unveiled in Christ" selfgiving movement even unto death, Like the prophe& of old, Dostoevsk-y brings

together ancient memories of divine address and decisive contemporary. challenges in order to darify our spiritual and moral discernment into the meaning of justice, h&tory, and hqpiness, The central question we address here is: How does Dostoevsky%artistic embodiment of apocalyptic poetics enable him to narrate the decisive pasonal, political, and moral questions in moderniy with such illuminating power? Chapter 3 explores the remarkable meditation on the problem of meaning in history expressed in ""The Grand InquisitodTTln isruletation operates on fvvo levels-those of the aulhor and of the character(s) (ban Karamazov and the Inquisitor). mereas the Inquisitor appeals to the Bible, particularly the book of Revelation, as the framework for an interpretation of world history. that is in.t-gndedto verify his solution to the problem of human order, Dostoevsky himself is engaged with the problem of modern historicism fespecialiy in its Hegelian version), 3%e key question addressed in this chapkr is: Might Dostaevsky be a propbetic fipre for our age not only in his insight into the destructirre implications of the modern historical consciousness but also as an example of how difficult it is for him as a Christian to avoid these same implications? Revelation can be a tvvo-edged sword: Although the Inquisitor misuses the book of Revelation, the same text plays a prominent, positive role in the critique of modernit-y articulated by Dostoevsky. through "The Grand Inquisitor.'Thapter 4 discusses the role played by the book of Revelation in Dostoevsws artparticularly in "The Grand Inquisitor,""where several signifiant references to the biblical text are explicitly made. The context of Ivm's prose poem (poemka) about the Inquisitor is his rebeliion against the vvclrld as ereat& by God, an the grounds of Ivan" ear&ly, Euclidean meatsure of justice (articulated in &e chapter entitled "&bellion," immediately preceding "The Grand Inquisitor"). Ivads collection of stories of the gotesque sugering of innocent children constitutes a legal brief against God" justice, "The paemka is Ivan's poetic attempt to work out the impliations of h& rebeuion by bringing heavenly powers (namely, Christ) d o m to earth, In form and content, it is an apocal~ticparable that parodies the symbolism af the book of Revelation. The most important question we addressed in Chapter 4 is: m y and bow does Dostoevsb find in the book of Revelation a symbolic context for interpreting the problem af modern justice? Chapter 5 subijects to critical scrutiny the professed motivation underlying the Grand Inquisitor's solution to the problem of justice: his "hove of humanity." Dostoevsky"s demystification of modern humanist love is contrasted with &at of anofier modern prophet, Nie~sche.The dialowe set up bemeen these two reveals areas of convergence and divergence: the former, apparent in a shared suspicion of a secular humanism that affirms love of humanity. at the same time as

it repudiates religious faith; the latter, apparent in their ultimately different understanding~of love and its relation to God and immor~lity.The principal question is this: M a t finally comes of the modern humanist affirmation of freedom, equality; and especidlly.love of humanity, when God and immortitlity.are denied? Chapkr 6 reflects on the conflicting ethical-political visions presented in The Brotbzers. Karamaz~v.One is the vision of the Grand Inquisitor, mpressd through his interpreitation of the third temptation (Matthew 4), in which he proposes the establishment of a universal and homogeneous state, founded upon the "noble lie" of immorlttliq This solution hnctions as a parodic mimesis of the heavenly city imaged poeticspuy in the book of Revelation, The alternative vision is that of Dostoevsb, who like the author of the biblical apocalypse is engaging in a prophetic critique of global empire from the s~ndpointof ""God and irnmoealitym-a hidden, divine justice founded upon the slain Lamb who rules in the heavenly city, a city mediatd on earth in the sufering church, These conflicting political theologies with their attendant moral logics inhabit the same worldly space. The questkn is, which is true and which is founded upon a lie? This chapter explores the ways in which this question is addressed throughout the novelespecially in the contrasting practices of retributive and restorativtl justice. Dostoevsky" portrayal of the silent Christ in "The Grand Inquisitor" migfil: well be the most dramaticalliy prophetic moment of his art. It is perhaps inwitable and self-explanatoryz then, that our book culminates with a chapter ( 7 ) tided ""Christ in T h e Grand Inquisitor.'" Although the book follows the structure outlined here, the reader will not find in it a stricay linear narrative development. This is partly because of the nature of the primary source on which our reflections are focused. Interpretling "The Grand Inquisitor,""or for that matter, The Brothers Karamazcrv, is something iike peeling an onion; one layer i s peeled away only to reveal another. Our discussion thus moves in spiral fashion: One returns to certain themes and passages, but with a sense of ever deepening understanding. As T, S, Eliot once so beautifuuy described this sort of movement (in "Little Gidding"") 'We shall not cease from exploration I And the end of all our aploring I Will be to arrive where we started / And h o w the place for the first time." The reader will not find a strictly linear development in the book also because it has two authors, Certain themes and passages come under discussion more than once-for differing reasons and with difering outcomes. We share a common, high estirnatlion of the significance of Dostowsky's prophetic art, but our interpretations of his writing were developed independently; Indeed, when we began to consider this collaboration, our understanding was that we would each bring to the project a particular emphasis (though always with the whole in

ofo old thrust of Dostoevsws prophetic art: One emphasis would be on the remembered biblical vision, and the other, on the engagement with modern thought, Afier agreeing on the overall structure of the book, we each did our own work, and then brought it togeaer. The result was sometimes surprising, always interesting; above all, we found that the result was neither repetition nor conflict but a richer understanding-in keeping with the spiral-like and dialogic movement of Dastoevs2eyfs art itself: We hope that our readers will make a similar discovery. view), in accord with the

Notes 1. h e e r of 8 June 1880 to h n a G. Dostoevsky, Sekecl.ed Leaers of Eyodor Dostoevsk~ eds. Joseph F r a d and Bavid I, Golhteia, trans, h d r m R. Macbdrew (hndon: Rutgers U~versit-y Press, 19871, p. 506. 2, See Martin Heideger, "HCilderlin und das Wesen der Bichlung,I' translated as ""Hi)lderlin and the Essen= of Poetry,""in. Existence and Being, ed, Werner Brock, trans, R.EC. HuII and Man Crick (Chicago: H. Regneq, 19491, 3. Martin Buber, n e Proplttelk Faith (New York Harper and Row, 1960), p. 103. 4 , David Lyle Jeffpey,People of the Book (Grmd Rapids, Mich.: Wiilliam B, Eerdmans, 19961, p. 26, fegrey's discussion. of the namre of propkrecly (chapter 2) is insighthl. 5, The expression " " L ~ n gBook"" is feffreyk (see Ibid., p. 20). In a leaer of 1 January 1868 to his niece, So@aA, Iwnov, Bogowsky wites: "The whole of the Gospel of Saint John is a statement to that eEect; he h d s the whole miracle in the f~lcarnationalone? 6. With Victor Hugo explicitly in mind, B o g o w s e pointed to "the idea of raising up the lowly" as the "historic testament of modern dmes, so often unjustly accused of contrbu.ring nothhg to compare with the great literary tvorks of tlre past." He then ~ r e s s e d the hope that "by the end of the [nineteen&] century, it [the idea of raising up the lowly] will become embodied, c~mpletely,clearly, and powerhlly, in some great work of art that will apress the profound character of the dme as fully and lastingly as, for a m p l e , The Divine Comedy expressed its epoch of medieval Catholic beliefs and idea1s'"as quotd in Joseph Frad, Dostaevsky: The Slr'r ofLib_beraganIIE@1865 [Prhceton: Princeton University Press, 19861, p. f 98). AS J ~ s e pFh r d obsemes, The Brohers Karam than: any other w r k at the end of the centuq to klfilfing this propheq of a grmt masterpiece of Christian art" (Ibid.).


Prophecy and Poetics

Dostoevse has ofi-en been called a prophet, both by his Russian contemporaries and by many of his subsequent readers in the Western world. How is it that Dostoevsky's art might be viewed as "prophetic" for the modern (and postmodern) era-here are two respects in which the term might Eunaion generally.to depict Dostoevskyysengaged social criticism: ( I ) his incisive portrayal of the movement from socialism to totalitarian political order, as famously expressed in "The Grand Inquisitor"; and ( 2 ) his unmasking of liberal conceptions of justice and moral psycholae as inadequate to the complexities of human. nature, Both critiques proved prophetic in regard to the dominant political ideologies of the r-tventieth century, the consequences of which remain with us as a critical challenge now and for the foreseeable Euture. Vet another reaon for descrhing Dostoevsws voice as prophetic is the central impor~nceof apocal~ticspbolism to his artistic vision. Unlike his compatriot Tolstoy-whose translation of the New Testament gospel into a liberal, p-acifist moral creed had its own influence-for Dastoevsb the Christ of the Gospds is a cosmic, apocalyptic figure who tears open the hidden meaning of everyday life, exposing it as spiritual crisis (krisis>in the literal sense of judgment or decisionin a metilphysicarl and theolagicarl, not just sociopolitical or moral, sense),Qostoevsky's art portrays the spiritual crisis of modernlpostmodem culture with reference to the question of God and immos&lity. Like apocalyptic plrrsphets of old, Dostoevse is passionately mncerned with the question of worldly justice in its immediate context, but always with reference to the ultimate context-the cosmic pathos of divine jusdce, In this respect Dastoevsws work defies iMartin Buberk distinaion (which has been V T = ~ Yinfluential both in literary and in social-political theory) between

propheq-defined by Buber as engaged, mordfy responsible social criticism in history-and apocalyptic writing-defined as escapist and inactive in history; and hence morally irresponsible both in the present and for the future.2 Dostoevsky brings together practical., historical. engagement and the dialogue with God, but always with reference to the cosmic canvas on which apocalyptic images are drawn. For him the prophetic "life-tasP receives its living inspiration from its connection with the strange otherness of apocalypdc &sion, Far from "speaking into his notebooEcr""(Buber's characterization of the apocalyptic writer), Dostoe v s b speaks to particular persons, who recognize in his words "their situation's demand for decision and to act accordin@y."3

The Pushkin Speech 3%e occasion on which Dostoevsky was perhaps most famously and most publicly hailed as a propbet by his own people took place in June 1880, when he gave a speech on Pushkn at a meeting of the Socieq of hvers of Russian Likraturea speech in which he described the ""pophetic significance" of Pushkin's art. Pushkin, said Dostoevsky, was prophetic for Russia in two central respects:4 Firstly, PushEn was the first to apture in artistic form the essential negative and positiw types of the Russian character. On the negative side, his charactersMeko and Onegin represent the rootless detachment of the educa.t-gdclasses, whose abstraction from "the People" kaves them resdess and spirimally disoriented, They seek the truth outside themselves and the heartland of their native cuIture, hoping to find it somehow in the external trappings of European sugess: in science and in techaolo@al and economic ""progessP Such self-interested and restless dreams lead quicMy to &olence, peed, and the appeal to abstract rights in order to redress personal grievances, These people have lost c o n b a with the skilled labor of love in relation to their native culture and traditional obligations, having traded these lived, spiritual connections for a mess of modern abstractions that bring them only greater disharmony and unhqpiness. Pushkn" Tatiana, in contrast, is a strong, positive character, rooted in the wisdom of her native soil. Her spiritual. rootedness and depth give her insight into the soul of Onegin, whereas his spiritual blindness allows him to attend only to mternal abstractions. Hence, of soul so long as she apdespite her attraction to him, he a n n o t see her b e a u ~ pears, humbly and simply; in a provincial bachater; when he meets her again in fashionable Petersburg sociep, that changes. But now it is too lat wife of an elderly general, to whom she will be faithful even though she loves Qnegin, beause of the promises she has made. At this point in his speech, Dostoevsky oEers his own interesling interpretation of &is contrast in charadas, in relation to the question of happiness, and he

does so by developing an image made famous in The Brothers Karamazov, which he was completing at the time of his P u s K n speech: Can you imagine that you are erecting the edifie of human destiny wi"rlhthe goal of m&ng people happy in the end, of giving them peace and rest at last? And now imagine as mlI that to do this it is essential and unavoidable to tormre to death just one human creamre. . . .WiB you conEnt on those terms t.o be the architea of such an edifice? That is the question, h d can you admit, even for a moment, the idea that the people for whom you were building this edifice tvould themxlves agree to accept such happiness from you if its faundations rested on the sufferintg of, say, wen one insignificant creamre, but one who had been mrciIessly and unjustly tortured-and, h a ~ n accepted g this happiness, would they remain happy ever after?"

No, says r)ostaevsb%human happiness cannot be so conceived. The happiness of one is intricately rdated to the happiness of all, and so also the suffering of one to that of all. Tatiana sees this and is prepared to sacrifice her individual hqpiness for the happiness of the whole. Dostoevse goes further: Even were she free to do so, she would not have gone off with [email protected] y ? Because she has dhined the essence of his charackr, she h a w s what he is-a reslkfess dreamer who sees her only when she gains prominence in fashionable society (in which she hersell is not truly at home). She sees that he loves only yet another novel f a n ~ s yof his restless, rootless imagination, that he lacks the discipline and humility. to cultivate true love, His image of happiness lacks substance; it is an "illusion of happinessm6that lacks a complete and true foundation. Such, edifices crumble. Her happiness, to the contrary, is rooted in the spiritual soil of the People and their spiritual beau% to which she sees true happiness is uitirnately ted. Hence the significance of the other positive type to which Dostoevsky refers in Pushkn's art, also rooted in the spiritual soil of the Russian people-the ""chroniclermonk,""about whom "one could write a whole book."7 In The Brothers Karamazov Dostoevsb himself had done precisely that, and had answered his own negative type flvan), and the poetic legend of the Grand Inquisitor, with the "life of the Russian monk," chronicled by the odd monastic hero of the novel (Alyosha), We shall return to this contrast belaw*far it represents the prophetic heart of Dostoevsky)~ar~stic&sion. The second key aspect of Pushkink prophetic siwificance higMigbted in. the speech by Dostoevsky was that Ptxshkn-unlike many other noble Russian betletrists of the time-did not identify the happiness of his people wi& the European ideals of progress and saphisticatian, Instead, he identified ha-gpiness with the spiritud simplicity and dep-th. of the Russian soul. This latter identifiation, Dostoevsky suggests, is what enabled Pushkin so successfully to incarnate

throuf5lk his poetic artistry. the poetic genius of ather nations. It is clear that on this point Dostoevsky links Pushkink pmphetic significance to the prophetic power of the Russian soul. He audaciously asserts that not even the greatest European poets (in his own estimation, Shakespeare, Cervantes, and SchiXler) could match Pushkin's ability to embody the spiritual identities of alien pmples: The Europeans usuallly- interpreted the spirit of other peoples from their own point of vkw (Shakespeare" Italians, for example, seem very English), This spiritud apacity, which is tied to the ull-imate aspiration toward the "universa1 brotherhood of peoples," is the pmphetic strengh of the Russian people, Thus, says Dostoevsky: "Hwing become completely a nationd poet, Pushkin at once, as soon as he came in conact with the force of the People, at once senses the great future mission of this force. Here he is a visionary.; here he is a propbet,""8ut here Dostoevsky addresses himself to ""one great misuaderstanding8'-a misunderstanding that not only afflicted Russians of his day but that has affeded interpretations of Dostoevsky"~prophetic message ever since-the conRict b e ~ e e nWeskrnizers and Slavophiles. It is, says Dostoevsky, a historically necessary misunderstanding, for it concerns precisely the question of which vision for the finture Russia will choose to be guided by: secular Eumpean modernity or traditional Russian Christianity?And yet it remains precisely a misunderstanding when intevreted only on the level of political idealam for it is really a question of the trulfi about the human sou1 and its historim1 destiny, about happiness and the just sociev Here Dastoevsws speech grows impassioned: To become a genuine Russian, wifX mean specifically: to strive to bring an ultimate

reconcgiation to Europe%contradictions, ta hdicate that the solution ta Europe's anpish is to be found in the panhuman: and all-unieing Russian soul, to enfold all our brethren:within it with bro&erly l m , and at Zast, perhaps, to utter the ulthate word af great, generat harmony, ultimate brotherly accord of all tribes thrau& the Iavv of Christ%Gospel!p Dostoevsky knows that these wards will strike his hearers as "etcstatic, exaggerated, and fantastic," Vthat vvcluld it mean for Russia to play such a propbetic role among the nations? Qrtainly it cannot mean the "light" of economic prosperity or scientific or maitary glory. Human uniry; in which alI particular peoples dwell together harmonkusly in their diEerence, is neither constimted nor plreserved lay external. forces for homogenization. Only the power of the ward of Christ "in serf's garb,""the Christ who traverses the impoverished land with blesshg, can fullill this prophetic task, In his letters to his wife Anna, Dostoevsb describes the pandemonium that broke out in response to his speechl the crowd hailing him as their propbet.10 Maxly.of those in the audience, it seems, were also avid readers af

his serialized novel, The Brothers Karammo-v, and saw immediately the connections b e ~ e e nDostoevsws interpretation of prophetic elements in Pushkin and DostaevskyJsown prophetic art.

The Brothers Karamazov as Propheq The hero of Bostoevsky's famous novel is Alexei (Alyosba) Karamazov, "a strange man, even an odd one," the narrator tells us in the preface, whose odd significance is related to his particularity precisely insofar as he "bears within himself the heart of the whole, while the other people of his epoch have d for some reason been torn away from it for a time by some kind of flooding wind,""" The g fantasies, deskes, and habits flooding wind is a reverse mistral, b l o ~ n hropean into Russia, along with the latest scientific and economic developments, uproot ing the people from their spiritual soil and alienating them fiom one anoher. By contrast, Aly-osha7sodd path, as ""an early lover of mankind" (181, is shaped by Christian monasticism and the commission given him by his spiritual father, the unconventional monastic: elder Zosirna, to "sojourn in the world like a monk"" (285). Dostoevsky's hero, then, comes to embody a pmphetic form of Chrisdan ascetic theolof~yin the world, in imitation of the suffering Christ "in sserf?s garb." Karamazov, entitled "The Russian Monk," DostoIn book 6 of me L3rot.h~~ evsky develops (in the voice of Alyosha) his poetic, prophetic answer to Ivan Karamazov" powerfuXly articulated rejection (in the Grand Inquisitor) of the Christian vision of Go$"$ creation. As his letters make clear, Dostoevsb wrote these pages in fear and trembling, concerned that in this ""culminating point" of the novel, for the sake of which "the whole novel is being written," he would be unable tto communicate in persuaive artistic form the pradial redism of "pujre" Christian egstence." Not sut.prisin@y,it is Ivads poem of the Grand Inquisitor, not Alyosha" Ilif of the elder Zosima, that has become the most famous of Dos.t-oevswsprophetic texts in the mentieth century; As Dostoevsky feared, Chrisven in the form of ""sojourn in the worldn-failed to apture the imagination and commitment of his Russian readers (despite the adulation of the Muscovite crowd). This taa is foretold in the narrator" preface ta the novel: Modern, realist cr"xics, he specuIates, will judge the hero "unrealistic,""the representative of an isolated, otheworfdly path that cannot be recommended as a model of social and cultural responsibiliv for our time. Vet the narrator insists that to the contrary, Myosha was ""even more of a redist than the rest of us" (25) and surely less isolaed in the sense expressed by Jesus, in the words that serw as epigrlagh to the entire novel (John 12:24): "Verify, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it ;tbideth alone; but if it die, it bringeth forth much 6uit."

How does Dostoevsws novel envision the ascetic path that leads out of the darhess of falsehood and isolation into the light of truth? How might death unite us with "the heart of the wholeD"?or Das.toevsb this can only be understood in relation ta the dramatic biblical-and in particular, the Jobanninecosmolae: Go&s higher, "spiritual" truth is embodied in the world as the pattern of self-giving, suffering love. It is a pattern prophetically and poeticallyrevealed in a dramatic reversat imaged in Revelation 5: the messianic Lion that conquers the world and swes it from violent destruction is unveaed as a slain Lamb. Precisely this image of the slain Lamb appears at the climax of the famous conversation b e ~ e e nIvan and Myasha Karamazov that leads into Ivan" 'The Grand Inquisitor,'%aving unleashed the retributive fury pilied up in his dossier of grotesque punishment stories in which innocent young chifdren are violated, Ivan questions Alyasha: Tell me straii@t out, T cdI on you-answer me: imagine that y w purself are b ~ i l d ing the edifice of buman destiny with the objea of m&ng people h p p y in the finale, of givhg them peace and rest at last, but for that you must inevitably and unavoidably tormre just one tiny creature .. .and raise your edifice oa the foundation of her unrequited tearewould you agree to be the architect on such conditions? (245)

Alyasha replies that he would not agree; however, he then responds with his own image af innocent suEering, the Lamb slain before the fouahtion of the world: "You've forgotten &out him, but it is an him that the structure [of human destiny, happiness, and harmony1 is being built, and it is to him that they will cry out: 'Just art thou, 0 Lord, for thy ways have been revealed!""(24&). But Tvan has not forgotten; indeed, he has been waiting for precisely this opportunity to reci;te his counterpraphecy, "The Grand Inquisitor,""which he has conceived as a correaive to the botched anthropolof~yand politics of the Christian mphos, There is nothing redemptive in suffering semanhoocl, and the "higher harmony" toward which it points is achieved at an exorbitant price-namely, vast human unhappiness and iGustice.13 Here we find the central prophetic pro and contra af the entire novel. Dastoevsky, like Pushkn, images in poetic form the fateful historical decision facing the Russian people (but cerlttinly not Russians atone) through his two central prophetic characters, Ivan and Ayosha. Ivan is Dostoevsky7sroorless, abstract intellectual. He wites learned articles and powerful prose poems that explore the fashionable culturd implications of the dominmt European ideologies: secular humanism, atheistic socialism, and scientistic cosmologies. His apocalyptic prophecies have to da with the nihilistic and violendy destructive hture of Euro-

pean humanism, He does not flinch from la*g out the base logic of its Euclidean eartuy realism, in propositions such as the following: *

*

*

"There &sts no law of nature that man should love mankind"; this is a religious proposition rooted in, belief in God and immortality, wiaout which "the moral law of nature ought to change immediately into the exact opposite of the former religious law: namely the egoism of Mallis permitted" (69). Egoism nevertheless must be restrained if human happiness and politia l order are to be realizd, Hence, refigious and moral ideologies must be used in the sewice of ~ m i n human g nature, but they must be politically controlled and managed via extensive technological, ideological, and military nemorks of external power, m e n the idea of God has been destroyed in human beings, a "new man" will arise, a nature-conquering man-god who will remake the world in the image of a virtual realiv and "will thmeby evel-y hour experience such lofty deli&t as will replace for him all his former hopes of heavenly deli&tn "(649). Ivan's sidekick Rakitin, the socialist serninarian, is especially enamored of the glorious possibilities for social and mental engineering, which will solve all moral problems.

Qnegin7sfantasies are nothing, compared ta the ear&ly dreams of Ivan. Ivan, however, is as unable as Qnegin to act diecisively and meaningfully. He remains trapped in his divided conscience (old habits die hard), mired in, selfiisslating, retributive fantasies-although his liberated ""lacfiada" "merdyakov) becomes a nihilktic instrument of Ivan's prophetic teachings. Dostoevsky powerfuIly depicts the modernist European realism "from within: with an artistic insight that has caused many to believe he sided with Ivan; but it is clear (as Mikhail B a ~ t i n ' 4and others have pointed out) that the dramatic dialogue of diverse spiritual types in the novel is governed by a quite different prophetic voicethat of Christ, There is a stark opposition between the Euclidean materialist cosmolou of Ivan's propfietie vision (""earthly realism") and the spiritual cosmoloe of Alyosha's Christian realism, a tradit-ional teaching that Myasha receives from his elder, W i l e the rootless Xvan plays with modern ideological abstractions, Alyosha binds himself in loyal obedience to the authoriq of a traditional Russian ristian monasticism, and the personal spiritual au.tfioriv of the ascetic monk Zosha, Nolfiing stands in greater contrast to liberal European humanism than this path, although it too is subject to potential abuse, as Dostoevsky is aware.15 It is in the particular character of the relationship bemeen the

dder and Alyosha that Dostoevsws prophetic stance b e ~ e e npast and Euture can be discerned. And that sBnce has evemhing to do with the apocalptic reversal imaged in Revelation 5, b e ~ e e nthe conquering Lion and the sugering Lamb, This radically traditional reversal of meanin f how meaning is to be measured and how trrtth is to be discerned from lies-is cultivated in the ascetic spiritual disciplines. To those captured by a slavishly materialist vision of human freedom and fulfillmenr that truly isolates selves (as "rights-bearersB")nd kills community, the monastic way may seem isolating and constricted. The elder Zosha begs to differ: Obediene, fasthg, m d prayer are laugh& at, yet they alom constimte the way to real and tme &eedom: X cut away my superfluous and unneassasy needs, through obedience l humble and chasten my vain and proud wifX, and hereby, with God's help, aHain freedom of spirit and, with hat, spiritual rejoicing! N i c h of the two is more capable of upholding arad semhg a great idea-the isolated rich, man or one who h liberated &om the t ~ a n n yof things and hbits? (3 t 4)

Only one freed from the isolation of self-love can truly. love others. Such freedom is made possible through spiritual rebirth in the image of Christ-that is, conformit~yto the ""form of the sewant" or ""srf's garV that bbuifds up human community through deeds of bumble love. The justice of this human community, moreo-ver, is not to be found in the mechanics of procedural justice or "fights"-it is situated in the "consciousness of one%own consciexzcrs"~((i4), cub tivated above aXI in the disciplined dialogical intimacy of personal relationship. Moral education is a matter of beautiful and good personal memories, especially in childhood and one's familial horne,'s not ideologial lectures and technical scientific instruction. The justice of a carnmuniv of conscience, the politics of this spiritual vision, is likewise understood, not in .t-grmsof the abstract procedural techniques of legal investigation and forensic courtroom psy.cholom, but rather in familial, organic terms. As we shall explore in detail in Chapter 6, the elder's discussion of criminal justice defines this as paternal guidance, mother-love, brotherhood, and sonship f 64-65)-a pattern he embodies in the very act of mediating as "elder" an intense familial dispute in his monastic cell, in what is eaectively the openling scene of the novel"s central drama (book 2). Thus, in answer to the question raised above, it is not ascesis per se that saves-after all, R e Brothers Karamazov also gives us the cramped, judgmenal asceticism of ressentiment in the c h a r ~ t eof r Father Ferapont, who is aptured biy a crudely materialist religious cosmolof3y.;and the false prophet, Ivan's Grand fnquisitor, is also a rigorous ascetic, Rather, it is ascesis in the service of the truth of

Christ that saves, a cultivation of the penitential consciousness whereby one bet ~ all people, on behalf of all and for all, for all human comes "also g ~ i lbefore sins, the world's and each person%>only then will the goal of our unity be acXlieved. . . .This knowledge is the crown of the monYs path, and of every man's path an earth" (164). Qaly conscious solidarity.with the world's sin and wilt can move human hearts to participate in the diivine love that seeks to reconcile the world in a peaceable harmony; This form of asceticism does not seek otherworldly puriv, nor, as the elder reiterates (164, 318f.1, is it a h i d of human evil and injustice, It rather "keeps dose company" with the heart where the meatsure of aaive love-the image of Christ-presides, taEng the penitential path of continual confession and suffering servanthood in which the re-creative mystery of divine love is powerfully eencted. ""And what is the word of Christ without an example?" asks the dder, Alyoshds biography recollects a series af examples of the penitential life, taken from the elder" memory; They follow a common pattern: an existential revelation of the "whole trtttfi" of life, the confession of solidarity in human guilt, repentance, forgiveness, and a turn to the path of community brought about through active, embodied love. To quote Father Zosima once again: Every action has its law. This is a nnaEer of the soul, a p~chologicalmalter. In order to nn&e the world over anew,people themselves must turn omto a digerernt path psychically; Until one has indeed become the brother of all, there will be no brothe r b a d , PJs scienm or sdf-interest will ever enabk people to share heir properq and their ri&t-s among themselves without ~Reme,Each wifl always thhk his share too small, and they will keep mummuring, (303)

This vision of ""re truth alone,"1and "not earthly truth, but a higher one" "(30, dies to the pursuit of retributive, mechanicsll justice and its alienating, isolating claims (which underlie Ivan's and the Inquisitor" rebellion), in order to be reborn into the suffering solidarity of human-divine community, where God's presence is lovingly served in all its created likenesses on the earth. Xt is this propbetic path, psychically and socially; that Alyosha represents. But before one can understand that this is the "heart of the whole:" one must consider brther the relation bemeezr progbeq and poetics in Dostoevsky's art.

Prophecy and Poeticsly f n her excellent monograph fie Brothers Kararrrmov and the Poetics ofMemor).s Diane Thompson oEers an illuminathg intet-grlpre~tion of how the categories of prophecy and poetics are connected in Z)ostoevsk)r\ work. Citing Aristotle's

observation in LZe Poetics that causality is the distinctive feature of a good tragedy-that a tragic plot should account for action and life, happiness and misery, in its reprefenation of discoveries and reversals (peripeties) and the motives of characters in ading as they deThompson, following M*ail Babtin, distinwishes b e ~ e e nthe ""pagmatic plot" or external side of Dostoevsws novel (the murder mystery emplotment) and the "ideological pXot.""lB The murder of the Karamazov brolhersvather has to do not only with external drcumstances and immediate motives (rivalry for money and love, vengeful hatred, and personal loathing) but with the worldviews or ideas of the charaders, as expressed in pothe pro and contra of the novel. It is here that the causaliq of Dostoevsk-y"~ etic art makes reference t-o Christian memory and moves from the genre of classical tragedy .t-o prophetic Christian reafism, In order ta account for the action of the novel as a whale, including the inner and outer causality of the central event-.the murder of Fyodor-it is not enough to aamine the charaders2ideas. It is also necessry to attend to the spiritual vision, the ""figher realism" as Dostoe v s b called it, of Christian memory, which structures the adlion of the novel, Accarding to Thompson, this takes us beyond "ordinary causality" to the mysterious agenq of divine speech and action, above all as disclosed in Scripture and preeminently in the voice of the Mrord made flesh. Indeed, as the epigraph signds, the mysterious pattern of death and resurrection struaures the entirev of novel does not provide the this Dostaevslrian tragedy. The action in Dostoevsk-y"~ ""cmpleted whole" sought by Aristotle's poetics of tragedy, as it remains open and incomplete, not yet being finished. The madd it presents for imitation, then, is not transparently vindicated by ordinary; temporal causality; it requires another sort of education and confirmation, structured by faith and hope in Christ as the truth.19 In contrast to Thompson-who suggests that we abandon lanpage of ausality for the langrxage of "".firal meaning (Auerbach) and spbolic paEern in order to understand Dostoevsws prophetic art-we would a r p e that his poetics bears testimony to a spiritual causality characterized by the mysterious enactment of the extraordinary in the world," This is in fact what the realism of biblical propbecyb in which Dostoevsky%poetics is rooted, is all about. Xt does not claim that faith is somehow beyond reason or that sacred history is detached h m secular, mundane history or from nature.21 Rather, it daims that the truth about the w r l d is made, named, and sus~inedby divine agenq-an agency that human action (in keeping with its created status in imago dei) is to imitate in certain regards, if it is ta find happiness and true life. Yet to see this or to hear it requires a transformation of perception and attention that gives access ta whait. is hidden and inwdible to conventional, fallen humanit-yl Prophecy gives expression to this transhrmation in the form of address-it seeks to unveil and enad

what is hidden so as to reorient human thought and aaion with reference to the "whole truW of God, Let us explore the nature of this spiritual causality by folowing up another of Diane Thompsoh suggestive obsemations, namely; that 'Christ's parable of the sower is the master metaphor of the novel.""" This is evident not only from the seed metaphor in the noveys epigraph but also from Father Zosimds centrally imporant reference to the ""seed of the word of God'' planted in the soul as likgiving memories, memories that bear fruit in perception and in discernment, which enads this t r u h in the world.23 For Zosima this spiritual causaliv of the divine word is a great mystery: ""lthe face of eartHy. truth [pravh],the enaaing of etemd truth is accomglist.led." This word addresses us in the stories of Scrigturn: "Lord, what a book, what lessons! m a t a book is the Holy Scripture, what miracle, what power are giwn to man with it! Like a camen imav of the world, and of man, and of human characters, and everything is named and set forth unto ages of ages*And so mxrraw mysteries resolved and reveded" (292). Zosima goes on to e h o r t his feEeUow priests to spread this word by reading and texbing Scrigtulre to the peopk, whose hearts will be shaken in rmsponse: "Only a little, a tiny seed is needed,""and it will serve as a hidden, reminder of the true meaning of lik. Yet this word is not simply a verbal sign or moral, doctrinal ""information" "ven by God, All creation witnesses the beauty. of divke mystery by ceaselessly enacting it, "for the Ward 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 throu& the mystery of its sinless life" (295). The spir"ltua1 causality of the divine word is present in the hidden life of all material reality, as its fundamental principle of movement. To discern this-and it can only be discerned by the eye of love (""X you love each thing, you will perceive the mystery of God in thingsn")(319)-is to be enlightened by "the whole trutb"" that life itself is paradise. The connection here with the Prologue of John's gospel, the wisdom Christology. of Colsssians 1:15f. (cf. Hebrews 1:3), and I1 arinthians 3-5 is obvious. The Word revealed in Christ is tied to the cosmic causaliiv of all creation. The poetry of the divine Word holds together the cosmic causal structure, not Euclidean geometry or any other purely immanent principle of interpreQtian, Yet what is unveiled continues to be a mystery; hence the difficulty of perceking it and being reconciled fully with it. It is not a causality under human control or maskry-scientific, artistic, or phaosophical. This brings us to the climax: of Zosima's seminal vision, which underlies the novel: Much on earth has been conclealed from us, but in place of it we have been granted a secret, mysterious sense of our living bond with the other world, with the higher heavedy wrId, and the roots of our hough& and feelings are not here but in other

worlds, That is why philosophers say it is impossible on earth to conceive the essrzne of things. God to& seeds from other worlds m d sowed them on this earth, and raised up his garden; and werphing that mid sprout sprouted, but it lives and grows only through its sense of being in touch with other mysterious worlds; if this sense is w&ene& or destroyed in you, that which has grown up in you dies, Then you became indifferent to life, and even come to hate it. So T t h i d , (320)

This is, in fact, the central prophetic claim of the novel: that only by dfing to the isolation of immanent earthly realism can one become alive to life itself and thus ""bar hit." It is a vision that reverses the cosmologies and ideologies of modernity no less &an it did the expectations of Jews and Greeks in Jesus9irne. The elder speaks here out of a deep interndimtion of the biblial word, and this is worth pondering Eurther, 3%e ward that sands for "secret" or "mystery" (n?ysterion)is used in the synoptic gospels in only one context-the parable of the s a w r and the seed (Matthew 13; Mark 4; Luke 81, which concerns the mystery of the kixrlfdom of God as pmclaimed by Jesus. Parable is the characteristic form of speech in Jesus' proclamatlion, as Matthew's gospel points out: uIndeed he said nothing to them without a parable" so as to bring to pmphetic utterance "what has been hidden since the foundation of the world" (Matthew 13:34-35). Of course, there is something highly ironic about unveiling what is hidden by. means of p-arabolic speech, which is itself designed to preserrlre the hiddenness of its meaning. As the parable about the form and process of parabling (both as speech and as a way of life), the parable of the sower and the seed brings this irony into mplicit focus: "so that seeing they may not perceive, and hearing they may not understand."24 There is an attempt here to reflect on the mystew of spiritual ausaiity-why some see and ohers do not, despite their living in a common, shared redity; what it means to understand what is hidden in experience and in speech; and how to respond to &e strong resisbnce to (not merely passive ignorance of) prophetic parabolic speech. and action. r)ostoevsky."s novel, we suggest, is also a refledion on this mystery. As in the gospel intapretations of the parable, Dastoevsky places his reflection in an apocalyptic setting: the "re&smWof faith and its response ta the divinely givm miracle that faith alone can see; the authority of the image and law of Christ in the cosmos but also in the heart, which maks proper discernment of the truth possible; the myskrious msmic struggle b e ~ e e nGod and the devil that goes on in the ordinary events of daily life and maks human choice so fatehl. For Dostoevsky, as for &e gospels, the hiddenness is necessary for divine unveiling to occur-the light is being revealed in the darhess and yet it cannot be discerned by those who continue to dwell in the darhess of the old order of death. Hence &e resistance to the Word by those who dwell in the old order and rehse to die to it.25

The hiddenness of apoalwtic realism a n dso be seen in the indirectness of speech. that bears witness to it. We see this, for example, in the highly mediated relay of witnesses in the book of Revelation (1:1-2): ""The revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show to his sewants what must soon take place; and he made it howm by sending his angel ta his servant John, who bore witness to the word of God and to the testimoxly.of Jesus Christ, even ta aU that he saw." A similar relay of witnesses is present in the remembered "Life of the Hiemmonk and Elder Zosima," which is introduced by a fictional narrator; consists of Alyosha's wriaen retrospective taken from previous conversations and addresses; and focuses upon the elder" mnneories of conversations and events, many of which. took place long ago in his own life, in response to Scripture, propktic messengers, and mysterious visitors." 60 participate in the unveiling of the hidden truth requires patient dialogue and the disciplines entailed in a difficult quest, on which is staked nothing less than the whole of life. It cannot be had directly-Go#$ mysterious, hidden love seeks to "form a heart,""as Gerkegaard puts it in Works oflolre, from which proceed the vis;ible fruits that bear tvitraess to its truxfa. The paratoh of sower and seed is here explicirly conneaed to the death and resurrection pattern expressed in John 12:24.23olfi sower and seed must die in order to be reborn into new life, new vision-what John Dominic Crossan rightly aUs the ""self-abnegation of the sower.'"? This is not, however, simply a rhetorical, aesthetic, or even moral requirement. The mysterion of God, as Paul asserts in I Qrinthians 2, cannot be proclaimed in lofiy rhetoric of wrldly wisdom, for it is ultimately (and materialiy) expressed in the crucified Christ; its causal power is tied to a mysterious, hidden wisdom, which must be spiritually discerned.28 This wisdom is visMe in the world as deaxfa, and yet for those with eyes to see, it lives even now, beyond death. The mysterian of the bodily transformation from death (the man of dust) to life (the man from heaven) is, for Paul, at the heart of divine causdiq-the end of all things (1 Qrinthians 15). Paul uses the agricultural (not mechanistic or artistic) metaphor of seed to express this mysterious transformation from death to life in the cosmic drama, The mysterious meaning and end of human mistence in the world is of a piece with the order created by God, the dynamism of wfiich is the continual self-giving gift of God's ccrati-ve Spirit (not mechanism, not human making or rhetoric-"for the kixrlfdom of God is not in talk but in power") that enlkns the world through love. By now it should be evident why Bostoevsky's poetics cannot conform to Aristode" requirements. The action ""as a whole" h a t Dostoevsws art i m i ~ t e (and s in which it elicits the reader" iirna~veparticipation) has as its end the completion of all things in the life and action of God, It a n n o t therefore be fully disclosed by any one event or star5 since it concerns the whole of the whole, which

is a lengh too great to be ""taken in by the mennoryr"2"r comprehended by a human a u s d account. It can only be unveiled by a waing participation in the action itself, whereby the Mrord is enaaed and takes root in the particularities of the here and now. Dostaevsws novel is intended to witness ta this spiritual motion and its causality: "All is like an ocean, all flows and connects; touch it in one place and it echoes at the other end of the world" (319). Also present in f i e Brothers Kartnmmov is another kind of seed, indkative of another kind of agency and spiritual causality-seeds of evil action, darhess, and forgetting. As the devil suggests to Ivan: wiU SOW just a tiny seed of faith in you, and from it an oak will grow-and such an oak that you, sitting in that oak, will want to join the desert fathers and the blameless women" (645). The seeds sown by principalities and powers of darhess also have real eEeas in the world: They take root in the heart and give rise to lying parodies of the truth and ta destructive deeds, As the dder puts it: See, here you have passed by a small chsd, passed by in arager, with a foul w r d , with a wathful soul; you perhaps did not nodce the child, but he saw you, and your unsightly and impious image bas r e m h e d h his defenceless heart, You did not h o w it, but you may &ereby have planted a bad seed in him, and it m y grow. . ,beause you did not lnurture in yourself a heedftsl, a&ive love. Brothers, love is a teach% but one must h o w how to acquire it, for it is diff-ialt to acquire, it is dearly bougfit, by long work over a long time, (319)

The earthly father of the brothers bramamv, Fyodor, literally saws the seeds of his own destruction by fathering in the same year the two sons-Xvan and Smerdyakov-responsible for his murder.30 This is not simply a genetic or biologial "sowhg"";it is also, above all, a spiritual begetting, As Smerdpkov comments to Ivan in their bird and final meeting, when b e truth is finally spoken be~em them: Vbu Iove money; that Z know, sir, you also love respec&because you're very proud, you love wmen's charms amediqly, and most of all you love living in peacehl prosperitry;wihout bowing to anyone-&at you love most of 21, sir, . . .You're I&e Fyodor Pavlavich most of all, it's you of all his chsdren. who came out resembling him most, hying the same soul as him, sir. (632)

Of courg, Smerdyakov most craves the affirmation and approval of Inn. The two of them (toIvan's disgust and outrage) have much in common, as rivals and coconspirators. Smerdyakov conkonts Ivan with their mmplicitry: "YOU &Ued him, p u are the main kil1e.r;and 1was just your minion, your faithhl servant Licharda,

and I performed the deed according to your word""(623).Ivan's sheistic teachings have taken eReaive root in Smerdy&ov's receptive, murderous heart; unl& Ivan, who reserves murderous latitude only in his dshes, Smerdyakov carries them out in adion. The two form a symbiotic community. in horrible hlfillnnent of Ivan7s parody of Paul's statment (in X CConthians) that 'kvervhing is pemittedi"": ""X's true what you taught me, sir, because you told me a lot about that &.then: because if there" so infinite God, &.then &ere%so virtue eit;her, and no need of it at all. It was true. That's how I reasoned." "Did you f i ~ r tit: out for yourseIeWIwn grimed crookedly, "With your guidancle, sir.'"(632)

3%e power of an =ample sf the w r d , whether sf light or of h r h e s s , of life or sf death, is poeticaliy enacted in the novel, Xt comes to explicit bcus in the courtroom, where the question sf exemplary fa&erbood is taken up at the level of motivational psychology and moral (criminal) responsibility As the novel makes dear, howeveir, the question a n n o t be properly answeired in the modern courtroom, plrecisely because of its inadequate assumptions about spiritual causaliv. Human moral psychology and agencry must be considered within the larger cosmic canvas of divine causality if they are ta be properly discerned. This cosmic context is the apocalptic struggle b e ~ e e nthe kingdom of light and the Engdam sf darhess, Prophecy, as an unveiling of the truth about God, is also an unveiling (and judgment) of idols-false images of divine purpose and truth, and a false naming of reality. Indeed, as both John sf Patmos and Dostaevsb empbasize, demonic powers of darkness ofi-en perform their mysterious and seduake arts through concealment. The proclamatlion of the prophetic word seeks to reveal the ""god of this world""who has blinded the minds of people and deceived the nations, in the ligfit: of Christ who is "the likeness of Gad" "1 Qrinthians 4:4),

I have suggeskd that Dostoevsk-y"~ apocalptic poetics is more &an a maaer of literary form or artistic representation-it is rooted in what might be called a "mebphysics of apocalypse.""31Liza b a p p begins her fine monograph, The Anrtihila-sz'onoflnerfia: Dostoewky and Me~"aphysics, by citing a famous passge from Dostoevsws private journal, written on Holy Thursday, 1864, in the presence of his first wife's ccorpe: "Masha is lying on the tabl-e. W21I see Masha again?"= The question is followed by a lenghy meditation on the conflict between the law of individual egoism, which answers the question in the negative, and the law of Christ that commands love of another person "as one's own self;))which is the "Egfiest goal" of individual selfiood and the " h a 1 goal" of all humaniv-the ""pafadise sf ChristlWnly the latter path, which overcomes the resisQnce sf the

law of fallen human nature, can answer the question afirmatively in the hope of resurrection beyond death. History is char~terizedby the struggle bemeen these ne of death and one of fife. The real metaphysical or philosophical question is which law is ultimately true: that life must end in death as the final transition, or that death ta the individual, mortal "X" a n lead ta a transition beyond death, to life eternal?m a t law Eunhmentally governs the transition? In his meditation, Dostoevsky connects the law of Cbrisdike love to the openness of human nature, He surmises that human lik on earth is in a transitional state, striving to attain its goal, a goal that remains hidden and unhown just as God's nature remains unknom. However, according to ""the law of our histovy Christ revealed one important trait of the future paradisal state of resurreaed humanity.: "They neither marry nor are given in marriage, but are like angels in heaven" (Matthew 22:30), This eschatalogial trait is ""poffoundly significant,""not in suggesting that mortal rdationships and bodily continuity are insignificant, To the c o n t r a r ~""the family is the most sacred thing of man on earW in preserving human openness to the future and in fostering the transition from egoism to other-love. And yet it too remahs egoistic and exclusivist, it cultivates isolation from the whole, it seeks a private peacehl prosperity that loves only what is "one" own." Within this most sacred of natural institutions, then, the cosmic conflict of laws also rages, a conflict from which the attainment of the goal of life through full participation in the divine nature will free us, This "rebirthBinto the brm of divine life will entail the end of family life and its temporal struggles: "There, being is a h11 spthesis, eternally taking pleasure and being hlfitled, and therefore, time will no longer &st." The law of this divine nature stands in contrast to fallen human nature above all in the qualiv of love, which dwells in the perfection of eternal harmony even in mul~plicity-in contrast to human love, which clings to its dbided partialiv even as it seeks unity (a tragic struggle). s ~ n din s contrast to the multipliicLikewise, the ordered truth of divine ~ s d o m ity and partiafity of human science, which tries to build up an account of the whole from partial fragments of knowledge (an endless struggle). The law of Christ, states Dostoevsb, is the earthly incarnation of the diivine law of nature and thus imprints a temporal mennary of the god or end of human life, of its final, completed nature. M a t form this nature will take, of course, "is digcult for man to imagine definitelyhot least because it has not yet fully become our nature. For it to become our nature requires the ongoing sacrifice of one's "X" to others, in the ongoing context of sufkring and human fallenness. Hence Christ brings no easy, consoling peace but the prophetic sword; he clarifies r earthly life. As The Br~t.hers the conflictual truth of the transitional c h a r ~ t e of Karamazov makes abundantly clear, and we a r p e in the chapter on "The Third Temptation:" Dastoevsky was not a defender of the traditional Russian family as

the solution to modern social problems, Instead, he sought to discern the tragic charaaer of the family" ear&ly struggle in the light of apoalwtic a u s d i ~ . Throughout his meditation, Dostoevsky conducts a polemical debate with those he terms "the antichrists:" who attack Christian teaching at certain crucial points. They mistakaly think they rehte Christianity by pointing to the lack of Eulfillment of its hopes for universal community; not realizing that Christ himself darifies the transitional character of earthly eAstence prior to its eternal Eutfillrnent beyond death. Fur&er, "they say that man is destroyed and dies compfetebyP and yet human experience of biologial. procreation and memory, the complex proceses of human personality and its historic21 development, contradict such an assertion, That Christ has entered and left a definitive memory of the human end is a part of this naturd process, and clarifies it prophetially. FinaUy>Dostoevsky ends his reflection by starkly juxtaposing the metaphysical alternatives: ""The teaching of the materialists-universal inertia and the mechanization of maEer-means death. The teaching of true philosophy is the annihihtion of inertia>that is thought, that is the center and SynrEresis of the universe and its outer form-matter, h a t is God, that is eternal fife.'TTfljsre account of nature and its laws that is dead to the spiritual ~ausalivof dkine lik, that reduces nature to matter, has as its last word for human beings (as for d forms of life) death. Such forms of naturalism-whether Newtonian inertia, Euc2idean geometry, or the determinism of Claude 1Bernarcl"s materia2ism-are mired in an understanding that Paul the ApostZe called psychikss ("natural human being), which attends in its fallenness only to outer material form or the ""things of the flesh," Indeed the naturalism of the unregenmate pychikos is mare accurately caUed sarkikos or "material human being,""incapable of spiritual discernment (see I (CZoriathians 2-3) and ultimately tkd to "this body of deatkr""(Romans 7:24), By contrast, "true pbilosopb"-spiritual wisdom @yenby God-annihilates such inertial abstractions with reference to a living image of spiritual discernment, a memory of the end as the "all in all" of divine behg, This wisdom s ~ n d s in conflia with the ""lw of sin and death""and claims the power to free human beings fiom "bondage ta decay:" by life-giving love. The higher realism of Christian faith is put painhlly ta the test in the presence of corpses-as is evident in the tears of Jesus at Lazarus's tomb, Alyosha's lament over the stinking decomposition of the elder Zosima's bbody, and the copious weeping at the child Ilpslza's funeral. The natural process of putrefaction provides powerfuI sensov evidence of the material disintegration of human selves, and Dostoevsky was not one to romanticize it. The question of boda)t; material reality. and how it is related to the spiritual causality of "life itself" is herefore a crucial question for Christian faith, and especially for its a p o a l p t k teaching of the resurrection. The question of which law finally governs reality is at the heart of the pro and

contra of Dos.toevsky."snovel: the external law of nature and the egoistic selfassertion of the faUen natural W%, or the spiritud law of divine providence and the ""unnatural"h w of Christ, which recreates the world in order to bring about the goal of living union with the divine Creator, This eschatolagicarl tension is beautihlly embodied in Dostoevsky" poetics, It is foreshadowed in The Brothers Karamazov, in a chapter entided ""Fther Ferapont," aAer a materialist religious ascetk, who no less than the proponents of s of the elatheistic mater;iaXism is depicted as ""an extremely d a n ~ r o uadversary" der Zosima and his &$ion of penitentkl love. The chapter begins with the elder "poring out his heart" to all the monks: Love one another, fathers . . . , Love Goas people, For we are not holier than those in the w r I d because we have come here and shut ourselves within these walls, but, on the contrary, anyone who comes here, by the very fact that he has come, already knows hirnseK to be worse than all those who are in. the world. . . . But when he h o w s that he is not o d y wrse than all those in, the wrfd, but h also p i l q before: aU people, on behalf of all and for all, for all human sins, the wrZd"s and each person's, only then will the goal of our uniq be achiewd. . . .Only then wiU our hearts be moved to a love that is infini*, u~versatl,and that h a w s no satie?. Then each of us will be able to gain the whole world by love and wash away the world"s sins with his tears, ( 164)

Here we have a clear =pression of the penitentid consciousness that sacrifices the ""I3n order to participate in the loving movment of the whole; it is the prophetic path of the monk, Immediately foEoX1owhg this ecstatic homily (afieward, the narrator tells us, "they aU remembered these wrds"") ,great excitement is gnerated among the monks by news that one of the elder" prophetic w r d s to a peatsant woman the day before (that her son, h m whom she had no news for a year, was still alive and would either come or send a letter shortly) has literafly come true. The news of this "miracle of predidion" is taken as a great sign of the elder's prophetic powa, and many of the monk wish to rush out and tell e v a p n e about it. So begins the chapter depicting Father Ferapont, that "great ascetic" and keeper of silence who ""rare&appeared at liturwy cul~vatingan eccentric and intriguing regime of monastic solitude. Despitdhis advanced age and "undoubtedly great fasting," Ferapont appears viprous and healthy (in contrast to the frail and ailing asirna). Though a keeper of silence, Ferapont ocasionauy e-ngages curious visitors in conversations in which he is ""brief, curt, strange, and dmost always rude." His speech dso betrays that he is in constant communication with ""fieavenly spirits," which presumably accounts h r his abiliy to see devils every-

where-""lee, I see throughoutm-and especially among the less ascetic monks who " a n %do wihout their bread here." There is a marked contrast b e ~ e e nFerapontk fearmongering and mystification and, at the end of the chapter, the propbetic words of Father Paissy f elder Zosima7sassociate, who "adopts" Alyosha from his dying mentor) to Ayosha, words that "made a rather strong and unexpc3ckd impression" on him: Remember, young man, unceasingly . . . that the science of this world, having united itself unto a grmt force, has, especially in the last century, examined evel-ything heavenly that has been bequeathed to us in sacred books, and, after hard analysis, the learned ones of this warld have absolutely nothing left of what was once holy. But they have emmined parts m d missed the whole, and their blindness is even wrthy of wonder, Meanwhile the whole stmds before their eyes as immovably as ever, and the gates of hell shall not prevaif against 2, . . . Even in, the movements of the souls of those same all-destroying atheists, it lives, as before,immovably! For those who renounce Christianity and rebel again& it are in their essence of the same image of the same Christ, and such they remain, for until now neither their wisdom nor the ardor of their hearts has been able to create ano&er, hi&er image of man and his digniv than the image shown of old by Christ, (171) These prophetic words are intended to prepare dyosha for ""the temptations of the world"-not so much in the naive form of distorted religious apocalypticism as in the h r m of rational scientific materialism, which has become povverhl among the institutional and technolsgial authorities of modern s ~ u l aculture. r Modern science of this sort cultivates isolation, far it methodologically excludes the spiritual whole. By contrast, Alyosha's sonasticism in the world will point to an aliternative, life-giving vision of the meaning and end of human eGstence-a vision founded on the model of worthiness of the slain Lamb. Alyosha$ prophetic embodiment of &is spiritual type is foretold in the elder's commissioning: "You will go forth from these walls, but you will sojourn in the world like a monk. You will have many opponents, but your very enemies will love you. Life wwX i 1 bring you many misfortttaes, but through them p u will be happ5 and you will bless life and cause others to bless it-which is the most imporQnt Xfaing" "(285). The elder deckres that Alyosba%face has been both a reminder (a mernosy) and a prophecy (an expectation) of the spirimal path to the heart of the whole for alI people. Alyosba%s"bo&erly countenance" will resurrect others and buad community wherever he goes. We appropriately conclude this introductory chapter with a word about the beginning and end of The Brothers Karamazov (as we h o w , beginnings and endings are always intimately related in apocalyptic likrature): Xn the prefatory note

from the author (341, we are told that there are really "WO novelsm-one concerning the memory. of &ings past, and the "main novel,""the second one, about the hero "in our time, that is, in our present, current moment." This cunning comment has sccasianed all manner of speculation an Dostsevsws possible plans for anoher novel having been precluded by his untimely death. But such Eucfidean speculation rmains tone deaf to Dostoevsky" prophetic voice, which warns and beckons to the reader: "Hstving acquainted Emself With the first story; the reader can decide for himself whether it is worth his while to begin the second"" (4). The first novel. itself will judge the reader's response by whether or not she or he a n echo the children" ecstatic cry at the end of the first novek "Memory eternal! . . .And etemdy so, all our lives hand in hand! Hurrah for Karamazov!" And thus might it become possible to take up the second novel, the drama sf our own lives, in a manner that shapes the hture sf this present moment by remembering the end. "l%&,in any case, is the possjibi1i.t-ymplared in this book.

Notes 1. See George Steher, ?"ohtoyor Dostoyevsky: An Essay in the Old Crigcism (NWErork: Penguirs, 1959), especidilly chapter 4. 2. Martb Buber, "Prophecy, Apocalyptic, and the Hisarical Hour," h Pointr"ngthe Way, ed, m d trans. M. Friedrrrm (New York Schocken, 10572, pp, f 92-207. See dso Dou@;tas Robinson, ""Lterature and Apocalyptic: h The En~yc!~pedia of;4poca1!yptr"cism,vaZ. 3 ( M m Virrk: Continuum, 19981, pp. 36&391. 3. Buber, "Propheq, Apocdplic, and the Historical Hour," p, 200. 4, In his explanatory note to h e PusMin speech (dsa pblished in flte Aupst 1880 issue of A Writer's Diary), Dostoevsky stittes that he wanted to make: "four points about Pushkin's sipificance for Russia." X have condlated the first two (negative and positive *es of the Russian character) and the second m o (PusMn2ss p a c i q to rehsrnate the genius of olher nations, a mpaciq that k unique:to the Russian spirit). See Fyodor Dostoevsky, A Writer's Diary,vol. 2: 1877-1881, trms. K. Lantz (Evanston, Hi,:Northwestern Unhersity Press, 19941, p p 1271-1295. 5. Ibid,, pp, 1287-1288, 6. Ibid., p, 1289. 7. Ibid,, p. 1290. 8, Ibid., p, 1293. 9. Ibid,, p. 1294. 10. See letters 871, 872, and 875 in Fyodor Dostoevsky, Complete LeEers, vol. 5: I87G18131, ed. Daylid Lowe f h n Arbor, Mich.: Ardis, 1991). 11. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans, Ricbard Pevear and Larissa Volohonsky (Mew York Vintage, 19901, p. 3. Herea&er, references to this work appear within flte narrative, inside parentheses. 22. See Dostomsky, Cowrptete ktters, v&. 5, letters 784,785,791, arad807. 13, See flte superb discz;lssionof Xvan's poemka in Rabert Louis fackson, ?;heArt of Dostoevsky: LTeEiriums land Nocsrurnes (Priineton: Priinceton Universit-yPress, 19811, chap, 14.

14. Mi&ail Babtin, Problems of LTostoevsk-y"soet2"c"s2ed. and trans. Caryl Emerson (Minneagolis: University of Minnesota Press, 19841, p. 97f. As has been shown in several important reent studies, B&tixl"s approach is itself rooted in the Johannine fheology-of the Russim O ~ h o d o xtradition and the Christological formulations of concifiar theology. See especially Alemader MihGlovic, Corporeal Words: Mikhail Bakh~n'sTheoklgy of D&cozsrse (Evanston, 111.: Northwestern Universiv Press, 1997); Chades Lock, "Carnival and Incarnation: EZaBtin and Orthodox Theolou:" in Cri~caEEssays on Mikhail Bakhtr'n, ed. Caryl Emerson (New York: G. K. Hdl, 1999). 25. His narrator states, "It is ajso true, perhaps, that this tested and already thoumndyar-old instrument for the moral regeneration of man from slavery to freedom and to moral perfection may turn into a double-edged weapon, which may lead a person not to humilify and ultimate self-control but, on the contrary, to the most satanic p r i d e t h a t is, to f e ~ e rand s not to freedom" (291, Them is for Bostoevsb no formulaic path to harmony and happiness, siince the path is mediated by human &eedom. 16, Such memories pemade the novel, and this theory of moral education is thematized both by the elder and by Alyosha. The elder gates: "No memories are more precious to a m m than thase of his earliet childhood in his parental home, and that is a h o s t always so, as long as there is wen a little bit of love and unity h the fmily. But from a very bad family, too, one can keep precious memories, if onfy one's soul b o w s how to seek out what is precious. With my memories of home I count dso my memories of sacred hhtory" f 290). EII his address to the boys, at fhe novel"s end, Alyosh repea'ts this teaching: "My dear children, perhaps you will not understand what I am going to say to you, because I often speak very incomprehensibly, but still you will remember and some day agree with my words, You must h o w that there is nothing hi&er, or stronger, or sounder, or more usek L u il aftervvards in. fife, than some good memory, eqecidly a memory from chiEdhood, from the parent& home. Erou hear a lot said about your education, yet some such beaurihl, sacred memory, prexm"lom childhood, is perhaps the best education" "74)27, For good discussionsof this rela~onand Plte fiistov of hterpretaeon, see Abraham 1, Heschel, me Prophe&, vol. 2 (New York b r p e r rund Row219621, chapter 11:""Prophq and Poeri-c hsairadon"; and David JeBrey?People of the Book (Grand Rapids, Mich,: Wgliaiarn B. E e r h m , 1996). 28. Dime O e ~ n Thompson, g The Brothers Karamazor and the JJoedcs a p m o r y ( C m briae: Cmbridg U&versity Press, 199l),chap, 3. See dso B a t i n , Problems of Dostclevskyk Pocks, EZaktSs h p o r l a a thesis k that Dostoevs~s "interndly dialo@cm approach to the repreented wnsciousrzess of his clnaraaers is ded to u"ai&ogicali~of the ul~matewhole" (Ibid., p. 18), which is not formed by a siwie, udfied monological mnxiousness but by polypkronic opemess to endless dialowe. Hence Dostswsws poeticrs is not tied to a "monsideationd frmmrorY such as characterizespost-Enli&&ment represntationd &eories of h u a n consciousness but to the embodhent of the pLiulurdiv of volias-the &doe-in which wnsciausness itself is haroughly didogid, Bostoevsws art, then, is not an aMempt to reprwnt an.ideal or even an,idea of the red; it is an act of dialogcal addrw in which did o p e is "not a means but run end, not thmhold to action but the action itself, not a meam h r sejf-revelation but b e c o ~ n who g one is" "(flitid,, p. 252). 19. This is in keeping with David JeErefs accou& of Plte literary "pammar" of Plte Old Tesment prol>he&,in which the subtat conthudly interrupts and overlaps the surface text of historical narrative. Regardkg &is subtea of divine speech, JeEreysuggests: "This text is not, in any wooden way; the literal codex of h e Torah, but its incorporated sub-

stmm as ethical vision, it Its the pvchological memory, the story within that cornmen& upon and intevrets the story without. It is not sim& the record of unfolding present historical events but raher the playbook of sacred memory and dream" ff"Wowto Read the Hebrw Proghe~:"in Mappings ofthe Biblical Rrrain: Tlze Bible as Text, eds, "V, Tollers and J, Maier [Lmhburg, Pa.: hcheZ1 University Press, 19901, p, 293). 20. Our arpment here is not so much with Eric AuerbacKs description of ""fiural intevretation""as with Thompsonk view of it-though the two are related. Auerbach says of the G p r d wmection b e ~ e e nthe sacrifice of Isaac and Pbe sacrifi~of Christ h a t ""aonnection: is established b e ~ e e nthe two even& which are linked neither temporally nor causallyB-tht is, fltey are not l i h d on a horizontal plme (Mimesis: %e Rqresentatio~ of Reality in Western Likratare, trans, Willard "Rask [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19531, p. 73). Their likage is vertical-to Divine Providene. In contrast to h e x bach's insistence on the concurrence: of both levels, Thompson divides them, succumbing to one of the pitfalls of figural interpre~tionin the modem c m m , as daribed in Ham W, Frei, The Eclipse of Biblkal Narrative: A S ~ d in y Eightgnth- and Ninete?enth-Cen&~ Hermeneutz'cs (New Haven: Yale Unive-rsity Press, 1974), p. 2% In AuerbacUs account of figurd interpretation, to comprehend mimetically is a spiritual ace "The two poles of a figure are separated in time, but both, being rail events or persom, are situated wilhin tempordity. They are both contained in the flowing stream MIhich is historical life, and only the comprehemion, the intdkctus spi~luatris,of their interdependence is a spiritual aa" "(~uerbach, Mimesis, p. 73; cf. Auerbach, "Figura,""in Sceaes from rhe Bmma of E ~ r o pean Literature [Mbeapolis: Universiq of Minnesota Press, 19841, p. 57). Figurd interp ~ t a t i o nh thus understood as a spiritual act that deals with real events experientia1I-y rather &an in conceptual abstraction, It diRers from allegory and m$ in its emphasis on the historical, but it does not accede to the self-suacient provisionaliley of modern historicism, which treats historical events as ""steps in an unbroken horizontal process" ("Fipray p. 59). In contr&, figural history pain& to the spiritual depth of reality for its causaJ meaning, This is precisely what makes it prophetic: ""1E;prdprwhecy implies flte interprehtian of one worldly event through another; the first signifies the second, the second hlfills the first. Both remain historical events; yet both, Iooked at in, fltis way, have something provisional and incomplete about &em; they point to one another and both point to some&hg in the hture, somethfng stiU to come, which will be the acmal, real, md definitive went. , . .Thus histoq, with all its concrete force, remains forever a figure, clo&ed and needhl of interpreation" ("fiigura:" p. 58). That h, the temporal participates in, and poinb toward the eternal for its meaning-a meaning fltat require s p i r i ~ aaHenl tiveness and imitation if it is to be understood. This view is compatible with a Christological understan&ng of B&tin's important concept of the ""unfindizability""of the living Word that echoes in BostomskyS dialogical art. 21, These are Thompson's claims, it seems-though they are subrly stated. We are in,debted to her very fine interpretation, md agree with her claim that: "The Christian redemptive pattern h a complete inversion of the clasial plot, structurdly and sernantially, It begins bram a falle-n state (sin, pride, wrongdoing). The keystone of its stmcture rests on its definition of discovery as a recognition: (a memory) of kernal verity: and peripeq as a spiritual renewal upon a q t a n c e of PE-tat truth, Tt ~"ulminatesin a fun&mental spiritual change h one" Iife, in the way one lives h the wrZd. The Christian pattern is reversible, or is always potentiallly so, in, that whde a tragedy cannot be undone, it a n be atoned, dassicail tragedy is irrmersible, In the Christim view suffering is re-

demptive, in flte cIasdd, it is irreducible" (Thompson, The Broltzers Karamczzov, p. '70). However, we do not accept that the classical paaern is the only way to define rational causdity and that (therefore) "the Christian memory strucmre" offers a symbolic patrern that transcends "the Iirnittttions of reason" (Ibid.), Nor do we agree that Dostoevsky "aimed to transcend the mundane world of muse and effea into a w r l d of art where the d i ~ n can e be poetically reprefented""(%id,, p, 72). This leads i n e ~ ~ btoI ya sqaration bem e n history arad nature, as in Thompson's stated agreement with Ern& Gassirer's comment, "Nature can offer no support to the prophetic consciousness" "bid., p, 263). This approach ultimately must concede reason and namre-indeed, the redm of ""causality"to what is hummly measured and csntrolled, Dostoevsb wmted to show the mord and u p t q of such forms of humanism, and to place cau~liky(and reason a d namre) into the contea of dbine action and speech. This critical point may be overly subtle, but I believe it is impo~ant,especially in the realm of political moraliv. 22. Ibid., p, 13, 23. See especially section (b) of Alpsha2s'life of Elder !rZma:" in Dostoevsky, The Brothen Karatnmoy, trans, Pevear arad Volokhonsky; p. 25tOf. 24. Luke 8: 10. There are many good studies of parables in the PJw Testment, m a q of which (not surprisingb) are in disageement, One disagreement, in pafiicular, direaly affects our interpretation of Dostoevsky's poetics as "prophetic realism:" and more specifially, as apocalyptic. Our interpretation is in keeping with those who view Jesus's parables as apacalptic-see especially Joel Marcus, The Myster), of the Kingdom of God (Ad=&: Scholars Press, 1986);also N. T. Wright,Jesras and the Viclory of God (Mimeapdis: Fortress Press, 2996). There are those, foremost: among them John Bominic Crossan, who read the eschatofol;y of the parable as anti-apocalptic (see Cmssan, Clifs ofFaIl: Paradox and Polyalerzce in the Pambles ofJesus [NewYork Seabury Press, 19801; idem, In Parable%The ChaZlenge of the Historbt Jesus [NewErork Harper and Row$ 19";7]). At issue here is the &finition of apocalyp~c,which has been disputed in New Testament dudia ever since Albert Schweimr" ggroundbreakiag The Quest of h e HisaricaE Jesus, How one defines apocalyptS-cwill shape onds assumptions about the nature of redity, and in partimlar, of historical and natural causality. m e n apocalyptic is interpreted as crude, other-cvarldf-y literalism that seeks to predict (in determinist, monolithic fashion) the imminent "end of hismy" hcomplete discontinuity with "ordinary" h m n experience, it will remain a difficult category to appropriate in anphhg other than a rather far-fetch& likrary genre suitable for crab and hndamen.~alists.m e n . apocalwtic is treated purely as a fiterary genre in which human beings unveil the poetic &mcturesof their own imagination, as in the Romantic tradition of Wilf am B a k arad Northrap Frye, it will have as its primav reference the inner life of humm consciotrsrxess and its imaginative constructs. In the first m e , the apocalyptic is an aernalized, transcendent Iiteralism havhg to do with a r i n sic, diuvine agenq; in the second, it is an internalized, aBegorical process of the divine human imagination, dos tow sky"^ writing permits neither of these interpretations, although his artistic position contains elernen& of both, Mthough he was inRuenced by the Romalntic tradition and its a8ention to embodied human feeling, passion, and consciousness, Bosmevsky rejeaed its hmarzent humanism-&e view that the human imagination is itself divine and capable of self-salvation through aestfnetic creativiv and erotic self-purification.It is not the agenq of human consciousness that dramatically animates nature; it is the agency of God. Bmitri must repent of his self-amalizing romandcism if he is to be sved from q i c i s m and despair. As I have dreadry susested, the fiwre of Fa-

ther Ferapont is suficient evidence of the spiritual badmptcy of literalist apocdypticism. Yet Dostowsky is convined that divine agenq and its spiritual counterparts are a realiv that transwnds human imagination, The claims of the Bible concerning the beginning md end of aff creation p r o ~ d ae definitive: framework-pain& of orientation, and stm&r& of juelgment or discernment-for interpretinghiswry and human ~ e r i e n c in e the wodd "as a whole," These claims are not simply human constmds but represent the unveiling of the underlying or ultimate meaning of realiq by divine speech and action, in terms that lie beyond h u m n control and capaciq. They mert real causal power, both in w r d and in deed, though not haanry mechanical or arbitrav or univocal manner. This is in, keqing with the hermeneutics of apocalyptic prophetic reatism. 25. Paul also refers to the hardening process in Romans 11-the violent resistance and opposition to the revelation of divine mystev-as a mlyster-ion (1 1:25).;Paul s p e h of this, as does Ma~hew(13:14E), in lmguage borrowed from the prophet Isaiah (Isatiah ti), with the assuraxzce that even blasphemous resistance to the divine Word nwertheless bears witness to divinely given spiritual causality and the criticd judgment waked by its presmcle. This view is also evident in Myosha's fir& response to IwnYs''The Grand hquisitor": "Your poem praises Jesus, it doesn't re~Xeh h . . . as you meant it to'yrp. 52 below). 26. Sergei Hackell takes this indirectness and "distarzchf as a sign of Dosrowsky's religious doubt and reticence about B&odox Christianiv, and believes that Dostoevsws art may in fact be a thin Christian veneer for a kind of p q a n naturat mysticism, At the brery least, in Hackers view, it rea'uces the eschatolagical intensity of h e biblical &aching on the kingdom of God (Hackel, "The Religious Dirne-nsion: Vision or Evasion? Zosha's Discourse in The Brothers Karawrazov,""in Fyodor Dastoewky; ed, H, Bloom [New Yisrk: Chdsea House, 19891, pp. 211-235). Hackel misreads the tfieological meming of indirectness and reticence here (just as so many have misunderstood the silence of Christ)nmely, that no one cm see God "face to face" and live, that the appmach to Gad eatah a richly mediated and disciplined path, and the ""unveiIhf revires patient uuaiting and active love, Divine truth resists the lust for immediate gratification and easy hXfi1Xment. 27, Crossan, Glifi ofEa12, p, 50f: However, we fail to see why such self-abnegationnecessarily implies, as Crosm suggests, &e priority of text over au&or (Ibid., p. 58). It would seem that precisely such aaempts to detach form from content, speech from action, and proclmation from person, contradict prophetic parabolic causality. 28, "For the kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power:" says Paul in I Carinthians 4:20, This power consists in the humility of following in the path of the crucified Christ, and see&ng undermnding through the diBcult practia of =&ring love. In Bostowskfs novel, this is embodied in the often inarticulate, tonwe-tied AXyosha, who never&eless is the powerhI hero of the stoq-in, deed, but also at the end, in an inspired word, inspired by the =ample: of his dder, who is in turn inspired by Markel and by Scripture, In. contrast, Dnnitri can only begin to live with purpose and meaninghl direction o n e his $&dive rhetoricd exess (expressed above all in the poetry of the Romamtics) has been hurnMed by repentance and confession, Ivm the articuhte intellectual, the aflZul writer of micles and prase poems, is unable to act decisively throu&out the novel, despite his high-&awnrhetoric. He suffers from an iUness that o d y hlyosha begns fin prayer) to understmd at the end of the novel: "The tormen& of a proud decision, a deep cctnscience! God, in whom he did not beliew, and his truth were overwming his heart, which still did not wmt to submit" (655).

29, See Aristotle, Be P o e ~ c trms. ~ , Tngrann Byater, in Inrroduclion m APismtte, ed. Kichard McKeon (NW York: Modern Library, 1947), p. 534 /E f 45 f 1, 30, See the discussion in mompson, The Broltzers Karamam, p. 129E 31. This is the lmguage used in Bavid Tode, Wai~ngfor&doe in S~rajevo:Theotogz'cal Refictl"ons an Nihz'lkm, Traged~and Apoeat~se(Boulder: Weseiew; 2998), chap. 7. 32. Liza b a p p , TStle Annihilation oflnerh'a: Dostoewky and n/let.aphysz'a (Evanston, Ill,: Nor&western University Press, 1996), p. 2. J o ~ p Fh r d offers a Baription and an, araalysis of the vigil and jo~zrnaIentry in his Dosmevsky: The Stir ofLiberah"on, 186&1865 (Prhceton: Princeton Uniwrsity Press, 19861, chap. 20, An English translation of the passage may be found h The Unpubrfished Llostoevsky: D i ~ ~ and e s Notebooks (186&81f, ed. Carl ProBer ( b n Arbor, Mich.: Ardis, 1973),vol. l, pp. 38-41,


"The Gmnd Inquisitor" In Russia, Dostoevsky%reputation as a propbet initially owed most to the speech on PusbEn that he delivered shortly behre his death; in the West, however, that reputation has always rested primarily on the chapter in me BrolFhers Karamazov entitled "The Grand Inquisiar,"' The list of major Western thinhrs of the mentie& antury who have attested to the Feat siwificance "The Grand Inquisitor" had for them is long and includes Freud, Wittgenstein, Heidegger, Sartre, and Camus. The relative s?rbsenceof beologians from the list is n o ~ b l eand , seemingly indimtes an opportuniv missed by modern Mreskrn reEgious thinkers. In contrast, the Russian rdigious thinker Iferdyaev, writing early in the centttry; not only considered Dostaevsws art "extraordinarily fiuithl as a prophetic presentation of the highest spiritual.possibilities'' but also insisted that T h e Grand Inquisitor" specifically contains "the best of the constructive part of Dostoevsky's religious ideas."l Das&evsk;y himself called "The Grand Inquisitor" the "culminating point" of The Brathers &ramazov,2 As such, it could also be considered the culminating point of both his art and his refigious thought, the text in which his prophecy and his poetics come together in the most compact intensity, It is the axis around which our reflection in this book revolves. For this reason, and beause there is no substitute for the text itself, we have included the entire chapter in our book. Readers thus will be able mare easily ta reflect with us an Dostoevsky's mast prophetic text rather than being always at the third remove of reflecting on our reflection. The obvious convenience for reszders oumeighs, in our view, the equdly obvious risk that our secondary interpretation will appear even paler when placed directly beside Dostoevsws prose, This risk is heightened, moreover, by the excellence of the English translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volofionsh. This translation hlfills admirably George Steiner's observation that a great translation

""bstows on the original &at yvhich W already there3"not as imi~tion,but as In this translation, the generative "creative echo" or ""metamorphic mirroringem3 presence of Dostoevsws origjmd text has indeed been presermd. The separate publication of "The Grand Inquisitor'' is meant to be helpEu1, but it might be mislmding if it meourages rmders to interpret the chapta in isolation &om the whok novel. Neither the Inquisitor nor Christ appears directly ekewhere in me Brothers Karamazcrv, but Ivan and Alyosha Karamazov cer~ainlydo; and [Dostoevsky"~ meaning wit1 be lost or distorted if it is forgotten that Ivm is the author of the prose poem "The Grand Inquisitor," and that Ivads bstener-prior to any readers-is his younger brother Alyosha. "The Grand Inquisitor" p i n t s bmk t-o Ivan" rebdian against God on b&aK of suffering hunnaniv. Ivan indias God for unwaingness or inability. to alleviate the unjust suffering of the innocent, thereby eliciting Alyosha's response that this indictment has not taken into account the God of sdftennpving love manifeged in the Incarnation and Crucikion. Ivan, who has already prosecuted God, then undertakes, through the Inquisitor, the prosecution of Christ. "The Grand Inquisitor" also points forward to the response of Myosha's Chrktian redism, expressed through his authorship of the ""Lfe of the Hieromonk and Elder Zosirna," and through his adual lking out of his (and Zosimds) way of rfrou&t-in conbast to Ivan's actual Eving out of his intelleaual stance in the rest of the novel. ALt.ETough our refledions in this book begin and (frequently.) end with "The Grand Inquisitor,""they of necessiv range through the whole of %e Brotbzers Karamazsv and sometimes beyond, to Dostoevsky." other writings. There is no substitute for reading the major novels, "The Grand Inquisitor" divides naturally- into three parts: Ivan's '"Xiterary preface" to his poem; the Inquisitor's lengthy indictment of the silent prisoner, culrninatling in the verdict and sentence of death by burnkg at the stake; and the reflections of both author (Ivan) and listener (Alyosha) on how the poem, including the prisoner's Ekieising of the Inquisitor, should be interpreted. The first part establishes the setting and introduces the protagonists, The Grand Inquisitor is a cardinal of the Roman Catholic Church in sixteenthcentury Spain. He represents Roman Catholicism not at its apogee in the high Middle Ages but in its desperately militant egorts to counter the Protestant Reformation by means of the Spanish sword. The Inquisitor, near death himsdf, stands near the end of Roman (CZathoticorder in the West and at the beginning of the modern quest for a new order. It should be emphasi~dthat although thus identified with a par~cufartime and place, the Inquisitor's vision extends in both directions to encompass the entire history of Western civilization, from the ancient Roman Empire to the new Rome that be anticipates after the fall of modern liberalism and socidism, The identity and significance of the other main character, the sijent prisoner, is less exactly defined. Alfiough Ivan%'3iterary preface"

treats this figure as Christ returned to the earth, this identifiation is rapidly-qualified, prior t-o the Inquisitor" monologue, as possibly just an old man's fanasy; Yet the prisoner at the very least m k e s the image sf Christ and is therefore widently meant to signify-an alternative to the Inquisitor's account of history, politics, religion, and human nature. However, the meaning sf this alternative, and even the degree to which it is an altanative-afier all, the Christ-Qure is Ivan's character no less than the Inquisitor-is peculiarly diEcult to determine, as is the import of the prisoner's silence or his kissing of the Inquisitor. Insofar as this silence does cons?titutea response to the Inquisitor%indictment, it points, on the one hand, to the Christianity.of dyosha and Zasima ebewhere in the novel, and on the other hand, to the self-betraying speech and actions of the Inquisitor and ban. For a more direa: interpretation of the Christ of 'The Grand Inquisitor,""we refer the reader to the final chapter sf this book. The second part sf "The Grand Inquisitor" pesents the Inquisitor's (hence, Ivan%s)indictment sf Christ, in the course of which he puts forward his own teaching about the best human order-his final social formula. The Inquisitor's teaching is set out within the framework provided by the biblical account of Christ's temptation in the wilderness (Matthew 4: 1-1 1.). He claims that the "real, thundering miracle" of the story of the three temptations lies in the fact that the questions posed in them should have come to be articulated among human beings at all, especially at such an early. time in h&tory; for the posing of .these quesat issue in the tions demonstrates an insight into all that is most hndament-;~lXy problem sf buman happiness, an insight arrived at prior to the centuries of historical mpmience that have since borne it out. The Inquisitor's sscid formula is founded on his own exegesis of the three temptations recorded in Matthew, which provide the reader with a basic map through the mxLe of his words. In relation to each of the three temptations, the Inquisitor's interpretation focuses on three quesscions: What fundamental human need is revealed? m a t is the means to the satirifaction of this need? How does history itself verify the trulfi of this in.t-grpre~tionof the temptation? In each case, according to the Inquisitor, Christ reject& what he should have accepted, The "should" is rooted in three assumpl of the best tions: that the three temptations contain the h n d a m e n ~ principles human order; that order s r complete social unity is what human, beings most need for the alleviation of their suEering; and that if Christ had truly loved humanity, he would have given the highest priority to this aueviation. The Inquisitor's exgesis of the Gospel passage clearly constitutes an indictment of Christ for insufficient andfar ineffeaive love of human beings. In the third and last part of "The Grand Inquisitor: ban and Alyosha togefier reflea on the meaning of the poem, Alyosha asks pointed questions: Does the poem actmlly praise rather than disparage Jesus?Is ""freedam" understood prop-

erlyl m a t is the Inquisitor" s%ecret""?~w does the poem end? Why does it end this way? These vestions, in turn, elicit reveafing responses, both from Ivan and potentially kom the attentive reader, who is invited to join the commentary on the poem already begun in the conversation of the brothers, We have accepkd this invitation, and we invite readers to enter with us into the ongoing cornmentary. Mo o h e r part of Dostoevs2eyk oeuvre has inspired so large and so diverse a body of interpre"tation.Is it an utterly devastating attack on Christianiq; or, as Berdyaev would have it, an expression of Dostoevsky's entire "Christian metaphysicW"?sthe Inquisitor" argument unanswerable; or is a suscient, albeit hidden, response already embodied in the silent Christ-figure? If the Grand Inquisitor is indeed an atheist, why is he presented as a member of the Roman Caholic hierarchy of the skteenth century?If the silent prisoner is indeed Christ, is he the Christ of Protestantism? Or of Ortbodoq? Qr is he Ivank sasion of the ""fistorical Jesus"? M%o does love humaniv more? m e r e does "The Grand Inquisitor" cease to be Ivan's ""poem" and become Dastoevsky's religious-politd apocalypx? As the latter, h w prophetic does it remain for us? This is brat a short sample of the seemindy endless questionling enpndered by "The Grand Inquisitor." W e n faced with such a chaflenge, it is good to be reminded that questioning can be the "piety of thought." The particular questions to which we have devoted our reflection in this book, and the manner in which the questions are addressed, have everphing to da with the overriding question that we bring to the text. This question could be expressed by quoting the w r d s of the Christian philosopher Vladimir Solavov, a "The general meaning of Dostowsky's entire activdose kiend of [Dostoevsky)~: ity, the meaning of Dostoevsky as a social figure, consists in the resotudon of this MO-foldquestion: about the hif5hest idea of social order and the genuine tvay to the actualhation of this ideal"" In our view>this ofo old question hndamentally informs Dostoevsws prophetic elucidation of the crisis of modemiq."

""Et here, too, it's impossible to do without a preface, a literary preface, that ispah!" Ivan laughed, ""and what sort of writer am It You see, my action takes place in the skteenth century, and back then-by the way>you must have learned this in school-back then it was customary in poetic works to bring higher powers *The version af "The Grand Inquisitor'9hat apyars below is exeespted fram Pyodor Dostoevsky, 231e Brotkers mrammw, txans. RicJnard Bwear and Zarissa bl0bonsk.y (NW York Vintage, 1990), pp, 246-264, and is reprinted by permission of Vhtage Books, a Division of Random House*fnc, Transhtion copyi&t Q 1991 by %chard Pevear and brissa Valo&onsky.

d o m to earth, I don't need to mention Dante. In Frmce, court clerks, as well as monks in the monasteries, gave whole performances in wkch they brought the Mdonna, angeb, saints, Christ, and God himself on stage, At the time it was all done quite artlessly. Xn Victor Hugok Hotre Dame de Park, in the Paris af Louis X , to honor the birth of the French dauphin, an edifying pmformance is giwn free of charge for the people in the city hall, entided Le bon jugement de la tr&s saz'nte .etgmcieuse Vierge &fie, in which she herself appears in person and pronounces her bon jugernevzt. With us in Moscow, in pre-ktrine antiquity, much the same kind of dramatic performances, especially from the Old Testament, were given from time to time; but, besides dramatic performances, there were many smries and %ersesToating around the world in which saints, angels, and all the powers of heaven took part as needed. In our monasteries such poems were translated, recopied, even composed-and when?-under the Tartars, There is, for example, one little monastery poem (fiom the Greek, of course): n e Mother ctf God Visits the Torzents, with scenes of a boldness not inferior to Dante%.The Mother of God visits he11 and the &&angel Michael. guides her through %be ttorments.' She sees sinners and their sugerings. Among &em, by the way, there is a most amusing class of shners in a burning lake: some of them s h k so Xla' r d o m into the lake that they can no longer come up again, and 'these God forgetsLan expression of extraordinary depth and force. And so the Mother of God, shocked and weeping, falls before the brone of God and asks pardon for eveqone in hell, everyone she has seen there, without distinction, Her conversation with God is immensely interesting. She pleads, she vvclnk go away, and when God points out to her the nail-pierced hands and feet of her Son and asks: 'How can I forgive his tormentors?\he bids all the saints, all the martyrs, all, the angels and archangels to fall down together with her and plead for the pardon of all, without discrirnination. In the end she extorts kom God a cessation of torments every year, from Holy Friday to Pentecost, and the sinners in hell at once thank the Lord and cry out to him: 'Just art thou, Q Lord, who hast judged so.' WeU, my little poem would have been of the same kind if it had appeared back then. He comes onstage in it; actually; be says nohing in the poem, he just appears and passes an, FilFteen centuries have gone by since be gave the promise to come in his Gngdom, fifteen centuries since his prophet wrote: "ehold, I come quickly;"Qf that day and that hour howeth not even the Son, but only my heavenly Father,"as he himself dedared while still on earth. But mankind awaits him with the same faith and the same tender emotion, Oh, even with greater faith, for fieeen centuries have gone by since men ceased to receive pledges from heaven: Believe what the hmrt tells you, For heaven offersno pIe+e,

Qdy faith in what the heart tells p u ! True, there were also mirades then. There were sahts who performed miraculous healings; to same righteous men, according to their biographies, the Queen of Heaven herseE a r n e down, But the devil never rests, and there had already arisen in man2rind some doubt as ta the authenticity. of these miracles*Just then, in the north, in Germany?a horrible new heresy appeared. A great star, 'like a lamp7that is, the Church), Yell upon the fountains of waters, and they were made bitter.' These heretics began blaspbemously denflng miracles. But lfiose who still believed became all the more ardent in their belief. The tears of mankind rose up to him as before, they waited Ebr him, loved him, hoped in him, yearned to suffer and die for him as before, . . . And for so many centuries mankind had been pleading with faith and fire: God our Lord, reveal hyself to us,' for so many centuries they had been alling out to him, that he in his immeasurable compassian desired to descend ta those who were pleading. He had descended even before then, he had \risi.te$ some righteous men, martyrs, and holy hermits while they were still on earth, as is writtw in their "lives.' Our own Tptchev, who deeply believed in the truth of his words, proclaimed that: Bent under the burden of the Gross, The King of Heaven in the farm of a slave Waked the Iengh and breadth of you, Blessing you, my native Iarxd.

It must needs have been so, let me tell you, And so he desired ta appear ta people if only for a moment-to his tormented, suEering people, rank with sin but loving him like children, hlXy a d k n is set in Spain, in Sevale, in the most horrible time of the Inquisition, when fires blazed eveTcy day to the glory of God, and In the sflemdid auto-da-fk Evil heretics were burnt.

Oh, of wurse, this was not that coming in which he will appear, according to his promise, at the end of time, in a11 his heavenly glory; and which will be as sudden bs the ii@tning &at shineth out of ihe e a t unto the west.' No, he desired to visit his children if only for a moment, and precisely where the fires of the heretics had begun to cracMe, In his infinite merq, he walkeed once again among men, in the same human image in which he had waked for three years among men fifteen centuries earlier. He came down to the <scorchedsquareskof a southern town where just the day before, in a "splendid sum-da-fk," in the presence of the king, the court, knights, cardinals, and the loveliest court ladies, before the teeming

populace of all Seville, the Cardinal Grand Inquisitor had burned almost a hundred heretics at once at3 majorem gloriam Dei, He appeared quietly>inconspicuously;but, strange to say, everyone recognized hirn. This could be one of the best passges in the poem, I mean, why it is mactly that they recognize him, Pfsople are drawn ta him by an invincible hrce, they flock ta him, surround him, f'ollow him, He passes silently among them with a quiet smile of infinite compassion. The sun of love shines in his heart, rays of Light, Enlightenment, and Power stream from his eyes and, pouring over the people, s h a h their hearts with responding love. He stretches forth his hands to them, blesses them, and from the touch of hirn, even only of his garments, comes a healing power. Here an old man, blind from childhood, calls out from the crowd: 'Lard, heal me so that I, too, can see you;"and it is as if the scales fell from his eyes, and the blind man sees him. People weep and kiss the earth he walks upon, Children throw down flowers before him, sing and cry Xosannal' ta him, 3t%he, it's really he,' everyone repeats, 'it must be he, it can be no one but he.We stops at the porch of the Seville cathedral at the very moment when a child's little, open, white coffin is being brought in with weping: in it lies a seven-year-old girl, the only daughter of a noble ci;tizen, The dead child is caveired with flotvers. X e will raise your chad,' people in the crowd shout to the weeping mother. The athedral padre, who has come out to meet the coffin, looks perplexed and frowns. Suddenly a waif comes from the dead child" mother. She throws herself down at his feet: 'If it is p u , then raise my child?'she mclaims, stretching her hands out to him, The procession halts, the little co%n is lowaed down onto the porch at his feet, He looks with compassion and his lips once again soA1y utter: Tatitha cuml'"-hnd the damsel arose.' The girl rises in her coffin, sits up and, smiling, looks around her in wide-eyed astonishment. She is still holding the bunch of white roses with which she has been lying in the coffin, There is a commotion among the people, cries, weeping, and at this very moment the Cardinal Grand Inquisitor hhself croses the square in front of the cathedral. He is an old man, almost ninety, tau and straight, with a gaunt face and sunken eyes, from which a glitter still shines like a fiery spark. Oh, he is not wearing his magnificent cardinars robes in which he had displayed himself to the people the day before, when the enemies of the Roman faith were burned-no, at this moment he is wearing only his old, coarse monastic assock. He is faflowed at a certain distance by his grim assistants and slaves, and by the "oly' guard, At the si@t of the crowd he stops and watches h m afar. He has seen eve~cything,seen the co&n set down at his feet, seen the girl rise, and his face darkens. He scowl^ with his thick, gray eyebrows, and his eyes shine with a sinister fire. He stretches forth his finger and orders the p a r d to take hirn, And such is his power, so tamed, submissive, and tremblingly obedient ta his will are the people, that the crowd immediately parts before the pard,

and they, amidst the deathly silence that has suddenly fallen, lay their hands on him and lead him away, As one man the crowd immediately bows to the ground before the aged Inquisitor, who silently blesses the people and moves on, The guard lead their prisoner to the small, gloomy, vaulted prison in the old building of the holy court, and lack him there, The day is over, the Seville night comes, The air is "ragrant with laurel and lemon.' In the deep dark, hot, and %reahliessm7 darkness, the iron door of the prison suddenly opens, and the old Grand Inquisitor himself slowly enters carving a lamp, He is alone, the door is immediately s the entrance and for a long time, for a minute locked behind him, He s ~ n d in or two, gazes into his face, At last he quietly approaches, sets the lamp on the table, and sst)rs to him: 3s it you? You?' But receiving no answer, he quicHy adds: 'Do not answer, be silent. After all, what could you s;lyl I know too well what you would say. And you have no right to add anphing to what you already said once. m y >hen, have you come to interfere with us? For you have come to interfere with us and you know it yoursdf. But do you h o w what will happen tomorrow? I do not know who you are, and X do not want to h o w : whether it is you, or only his likeness; but tomorrow I shall condemn you and burn you at the stake as the most evil of helretics, and the very people who today kkissed your feet, tomorrow, at a nod from me, will rush to heap the coals up around your stake, do you h o w that? Yes, perha-gs you do h o w it,' he added, pondering deeply>never for a moment taking his eyes from his prisoner.'" "X don't quite understand what this is, Ivan:" Alyosha, who all the while had been listening silently, smiled,"h it boundless fanbsy, or some mistake on the old man%part, some impossible quipm quo?" "Assume it's the latter, if you like," Ivan laughed, "if you're so spoijted by modern realism and can" understand anything fantastic-if you w n t it to be qui pro qtco, let it be. Of course,""he laughed again, "the man is ninety years old, and might have lost his mind long ago over his idea. He might have been struck by the prisoner" appearance, It might, findy3have been simple ddiriurn, the vision of a ninety-year-old man nearing dea&, and who is excited, besides, by the au-to-daf i of a hundred burnt heretics the day before. But isn" it all the same ta you and me wbeher it%qgui gm quo or boundless fantasy?The only thing is that the old man needs ta speak out, that fixrally after all his nineq years, he speaks out, and says aloud all that he has been silent about for ninety years." 2 n d the prisoner is silent, too? Just looh at him wihout saying a word?" "But that must be so in any case,""Ivan laughed again, "The old man himself points out to him that he has no right to add anphing to what has already been said once. That, if you like, is the most basic fature of Roman CaLfrolicism, in my opinion at least: 'Everphing;"they say, 'has been handed over by you to the pope, therefore everyhing now beIongs to the pope, and you may as well not come at

all now, or at least dodt inl-grferewith us for the tirne being,' They not only speak this way3they also write this way3at least the Jesuits do, I've read it in their theologians mysell: Xave you the right ta proclaim ta us even one of the mysteries of that w r l d kom which you have corne?hy-old man asks him, and answers the question himself":Wo, you have not, so as not to add to what has already been said once, and so as not to deprive people af fieediom, for which you stood so firmly when you were on earth. Anything you proclaim anew will encroach upon the freedom of men's faih, for it wit1 come as a miracle, and the freedom of their faith was the dealcest of aU things to you, even then, one and a half thousand years ago, Was it not p u who so oft-en said then: ""Iant to make you free""?'But now you have seen these ""free"men,"the old man suddenly adds with a pensive smile. 'Yes, this work has cost us dearlyl"he goes on, 1ooKng sternly at him, 'but we have finally-finished this work in your name. For fifieen hundred years we have been at pains over this fieedom, but now it is finisbed, and well finished. You do not believe that it is we11 finished?You look at me meeHy and do not deign even to be indipant with me. h o w , then, that now plrecisely now, these people are more certain than ever before that hey are completely h e , and at the same time they themselves have brought us their keedom and obedhntly laid it at our feet. It is our doing, but is it what you wanted? This sort of freedom?""" "Again I don't understandP Alyosha interrupted, ""Ihe being ironic? Is fie laughing?" "Not in the least. He precisely lays it ta his and his colXeagueskcrdit that they have finally avercome freedam, and have done so in order to make people happy "or only novvyfhe is referring, af course, to the Inquisition) %as it become possiblie to think for the first tirne about human happiness. Man was made a rebel; can rebels be happy? You were tvarned,"he says to him, ' p u had no lack. of warnings and indiations, but you did not heed the warnings, you rejected the only way of arranging for human happiness, but fortunately; on your departure, p u handed the work over to us. You promised, you established with your word, you gave us the right to bind and loose, and surely you cannot even think of taking this right away from us now. Why>then, have you come to interfere with us?"" " m a t does it mean, that he had no lack of warnings and iadicatiions?"Alyosha askred. "You see, that is the main thing that the old man needs to speak about." "The dread and inteUigent spirit, the spirit of self-destrudkn and non-being," the old man goes on, 'the great spirit spoke with you in the wilderness, and it has been passed on to us in books that fie supposedly ""'tempted""you. Did he really? And was it possible to say an*ing more true than what fie proclaimed to you in his three questions, which you rejeded, and which the books refer to as "tempta-

tionsW"?nd at the same time, if ever a real, bundering miracle was performed on earth, it was on &at day, the day of those three temptations. The miracle lay precisely in the appearance of those &ree vestions, If it were possible to imagine, just as a trial and an example, that those three questions of the dread spirit bad been last from the b o a k without a trace, and it was necessary that they be restored, thought up and invented anew*to be put back into the book, and to that end alI the wise men on earth-rulers, hi& priests, scholars, philosophers, poe t e w e r e brought together and @venthis task: to think up, to invent three questions such as would not onXy correspond to the scale of the event, but, moreover, would express in three words, in three human phrases only the entire future history of the world and m a n E n d 4 o you think that d the combined wisdom of the earth could think up anphing faintly resembling in force and depth those three questions that were adually presented to you then by the powerhX and intelligent spirit in the wilderness?I)).the questions alone, simpi-yby the miracle of their appearance, one can see that one is dealing with a mind not human and transient but eternal and absolute. For in these three questions alI of subsequent human history is as if brought together into a shgle whole and foretold; three images are revealed that will take in all the insoluble historical contradictions of human nature over d l the earth, This could not have been seen so well at the time, for the future was unknown, but now that fifieen centuries have gone by, we can see &at in these &ree questions evemhing was so precisely dkined and foretold, and has proved so completely true, that to add to them or subtract anphing from them is impossible.' "Wecide yourself who was right: you or the one who questioned you then? Recall the first question; its meankg, though not literally, wills this: You want to go into the world, and you are going empty-handed, with some promise of freedom, which they in their shplicity and innate lawlessness a n n o t even comprehend, which they dread and fear-for nothing has ever been more insufferable for man and for human society than freedom! But do you see these stones in this bare, scorching desert? Turn &em into bread and mankind wifl run after p u Xike sheep, grateh3 and obedient, though eternally trembling Xest p u withdraw F u r band and your Xoaves cease b r them. 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 Zoms of bread? You objected that man does not live by bread abne, but do you know that in the name of this very earthly bread, the spirit of the earth will rise against you and fight with you and defeat you, and everyone wiU follow him exclaiming: "mocan compare to this beast, for he has given us fire from heavenf" Do you know that centuries will pass and mankind will proclaim with the mouth of its wisdom and science that there is no crime, and therehre no sin, but only hungry men? "Red them first, then ask virtue of

them!"-that is what they will write on the banner they raise against p u , and by which p u r temple will be destroyed. In place of your temple a new edifice wiU be raised, the terrible Tower of Babel will be raised again, and though, like the brmer one, this one will not be completed either, still you couM have avoided this new tower and shortened people" sufering by a thousand years-hr it is to us they wiff,come after suffering for a thousand years with their tower! They will seek us out again, underground, in catacombs, hiding (for again we shall be persecuted and tortured), they will find us and cry out: "(Feed us, for those who promised us fire from heaven did not give it," And then we shall finish building their tower, for only he who feeds them will finish it, and only we shalufeed them, in your name, for we shall lie that it is in p u r name. 0,never, newr will they feed themselves without us! No science will give them bread as long as they remain free, but in the end they will lay their freedam at our feet and say to us: "ktter that _you enslave us, but feed us," They will finally understand that freedom and earthliy.bread in plenty for everyone are inconceivable together, b r never, never will they be able to share among themselves. They will also be convinced that they are forever incapable of being free, because they are feeble, depraved, nonentities and rebels. You promised them heavenly bread, but, I repeat again, can it compare with the eartMy bread in the eyes of the weak, eternally depraved, and eternally ignoble human race? And if in the name of heavenly bread thousands and tens of thousands will foDow you, what will become of the millions and tens of thousands of miDions of creatures who wiff,not be strong enough to brgo ear&i-y bread .for the sake of the heavenly? Is it that only the tens of thousands of the great and strong are dear to you, and the remaining millions, numerous as the sands of the sea, w a k but loving you, should serve only as material for the peat and the strong? No, the weak, too, are dear to us. They are depraved and rebels, but in the end it is they who will become obedient, They will mamel at us, and look upon us as gads, because we, s ~ n d i n gat their head, have agreed to suffer freedom and to rule over them-so terrible will it become for them in the end to be free! But we shall say that we are obedient to p u and rale in your name. We shall deceive them again, b r this time we shall not allow p u ta come ta us, This deceit will constitute our sufiring, for we shall have to lie, This is what that first question in the wilderness meant, and this is what you rejected in the name of freedom, which you placed above everything. And yet this question contains the geat mystery of this world. 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 manEnd together, namely: ""tfore whom shall f bow down?" There is no more ceaseless or tormenting care for man, as long as he remains free, than to find someone ta bow dawn to as soon as possible. But man seeks to bow down before that which is in-

disputable, so indisputable that all men at once would agree to the universal worship of it, For the care of these pitiful creatures is not just to find something before which I or some other man can bow down, but to find something that everyone else will also believe in and bow down to, for it must needs be all togel-her, And this need br conzmunality of wrship is the chief torment of each man individually, and af manZrind as a whole, from the beginning of the ages. In the a u s e of universal worship, they have destroyed each o h e r with the suvord. They have made gods and called upon each other: "Abandon your gods and come and worship ours, ohertvise death to you and your gods!" And so it will be until the end of the world, even when all gods have disappeared from the earth: they will stiU fall down before idols. You h e w , p u could not but h o w , this essential mystery. of human nature, but you rejeaed the only absolute banner, which was offered to you ta make all men bow down ta you indisputablythe banner of earthliy.bread; and y-ou rejeded it in the name of freedom and heavenly bread. Mow see what you did nmt. And all again in the name of freedom! I tell you that man has no more tormenting a r e than to find someone to whom he a n hand over as quickly as possible that gift of freedom with which the miserable creature is born. But he alone can take over the freedom of men who qpeases their conscience. With bread you were given an indisputable banner: give rnan bread and he will bow down to you, for there is nothing more indisputable than bread, But if at the same time someone else takes over his conscience-h, then he will even throw down your bread and follow him who has seduced his canscience, In this you were right. For the mystery of man's bbeing is not only in living, but in what one lives hr. Without a firm idea of what he lives for, man will not consent to live and will sooner destroy himself than remain on earth, even if there is bread all around him. That is so, but what came of it? Instead of taking over men" freedom, you increased it still more for them! Bid you forget that peace and even death are dearer to man than free choice in the howledge of good and evil? There is nothing more seductiw for man than the freedom of his conscience, but there is nothing more tormenting either. And so, instead of a firm foundation br appeasing human conscience once and b r all, p u chose everything that was unusual, enigmatic, and indefinite, y-ou chose everything that was beyond men%strengh, and thereby ackd as if you did not love them at all-and who did this? He who came to give his lik for them! Instead of taking over men" ffreedom, you increased it and forever burdened the kingdom of the human soul with its torments. You desired the free love of man, that he should foHow you freely, seduced and captiva.t-gdby you, Instead of the firm ancient law rnan had henceforth to decide for himself, with a free heart, what is good and what is evil, having only. your image before him as a guidebut did it not occur to -you that he w u l d eventuallly-reject and dispute even your

image and your truth if he was oppressed by so terrible a burden as freedom of choice?They will finally cry out that the truth is not in you, for it was impossible to leave them in greater confusion and torment than you did, abandoning them to so many cares and insoluble problems, Thus you yourself laid the foundation b r the destruction of p u r own kingdom, and do not blame anpne else for it. Yet is this what was oEered p u ? There are three powers, only three powers on earth, apable of conquering and holding captive forever the conscience of these feeble rebels, for their own happinesethese powers are miracle, mystery, and authority You rejected the first, the second, and the third, and gave yourself as an example of that. m e n the dread and wise spirit set you on a pinnacle of the Temple and said to p u : "If you would know whether or not you are the Son of God, cast purself down; for it is written of hirn, that the angels will bear hirn up, and he will not fall or be hurt, and then you will know whether you are the Son of God, and will prove what faith p u have in p u r Father.'-ut p u heard and rgected the offer and did not yield and did not throw yourself down. Oh, of course in this you acted proudly and mapifimntly, like God, but mankind, that weak, rebellious tribe-are they gods? Oh, you h e w then that if you made just one step, just one movement towards thmwing yourself down, you would immediately. have tempted the Lord and would have lost all faith in him and been dashed against the earth p u came to save, and the intefiigent spirit who was .t-gmptingyou would rejoice, But, I repeat, are there many like you? And, indeed, could you possibi-y have assumed, even b r a moment, that mankind, too, would be strong enough for such a temptation? Xs that how human nature was created-ta reject the miracle, and in those terrible moments of life, the moments of the most terribk, essential, and tormenting questions of the souI, to remain only with the free decision of the heart? Oh, you h e w that your deed would be preserved in books, would reach the depths of the ages and the utmost limits of the earth, and you hoped that, folowing you, man, too, would remain with God, having no need of miracles. But you did not h o w that as soon as man rejects miracles, he will at once reject God as well, for man seeks not so much God as miracles, And since man cannot bear to be left without miracles, he will go and create new miracles for himself; his own miracles this time, and will bow down to the miracles of quacks, or vvclmen" magic, though he be rebellious, heretial, and godkss a hundred times over. You did not come down from the cross when they shouted to you, mocking and revihng you: ""Come down from the cross and we will believe that it is you." 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 semile rapture of a slave before a power that has left him permanently terrified, But here, too, you overestimated mankind, for, of course, they are slaves, though they were created

rebels. Behold and judge, now that fifteen centuries have passed, take a look at them: whom have p u raised up to yourselft f swear, man is created weaker and baser than you thought him1 How how can he ever accomplish the same things as you? Respecting him so much, you behaved as if you had ceased to be compassionate, because you demanded too much of him-and who did this? He who loved him more than himselfi Respecting him less, you would have demanded less of him, and that would be closer to love, for his burden would be lighter. He is weak and mean. m a t matter that he now rebels everyhere against our power, and takes pride in his rebellion? The pride of a child and a schoolboy! They are little chtldren, who rebel in class and drive out the teacher, But there will also come an end to the children" deElight, and it will cost thern dearly: They will tear down the temples and drench. the earth with blood, But finally the foolish children will understand that although they are rebels, they are keble rebels, who cannot endure heir own rebellion, Pouring out their foolish tears, they will finally acknowledge that he who created them rebels no doubt intended to laugh at them, They will say it in despair, and what they say will be a blasphemy that will make them even more unhappy, for human nature a n n o t bear blasphemy and in the end always takes revenF for it. And so, turmoil, confusion, and unhappiness-these are the present lot of mankind, after you suffered so much for their freedom! Your great prophet tells in a vision and an allegory that he saw all those who took part in the first resurrection and that they were l-tvelvethousand from each tribe. But even if there were so many?they, too, were not like men, as it were, but gods, They endured your cross, they endured scores of years of hungry and n a k d wilderness, eating locusts and roots, and of course you a n point with pride to these children of freedom, of free love, of free and mapifimnt sacrifice in your name, But remember that there were only several thousand of thern, and they were gods. m a t of the rest? Is it the fault of the rest of feeble mankind that they could not endure what the mighty endured? Is it the fault of the weak soul that it is unable to contain such terrible gi&s?Can it be that you indeed came only to the chosen ones and for the chosen ones?But if so, there is a mystery here, and we cannot understand it. And if it is a mystery; then we, too, had the right ta preach mystery and to teach them that it is not the free choice of the heart that matters, and not love, but the mystwy, which they must blindly obey, even setting aside theh own conscience, And so we did. We corrected your deed and based it on miracle, nzyster~ and authority And mankind rejoiced that they were once more led like sheep, and that at last such a terrible gife, which had brought them so much suffering, had been taken from their hearts, Tell me, were we right in teaching and doing so? Have we not, indeed, loved mankind, in so humbly recognking their impotence, in so lovingly alleviating their burden and allowing their feeble nature even to sin, with our

permission? Wlhy have p u come to interfere with us now? And why are you ? angry! I looking at me so sifently and understandingly with p u r meek e ~ sBe do nor want your loiove, for I do not love you, And what can f hide from p131 DO I not know with whom X am speaking? M%at I have ta tell y-ou is all known ta p u already, I can read it in your eyes, And is it for me ta hide our secret from p u ? Perhaps you precisdy want to hear it from my lips, Listen then: we are not with you, but with him, that is our secret! For a long time now-eight centurks already-we have not been with you, but with him. Exactly eight centuries ago we took from him what you so indignantly rejiected, that last gift he offered you when he showed you all the kingdams of the earth: we took Rome and the sword of Caesar from him, and proclaimed ourselves sole rulers of the earth, the only rulers, though we have not yet succeeded in bringing our cause to its full conclusion, But whose fault is that? Oh, this work is stilt in its very beginnings, but it has begun. There is still long to wait before its completion, and the earth still has much ta suEer, but we shalt accomplish, it and we shall be caesars, and then we shall think about the universal happiness of mankind. And yet you could Had have taken the s m r d of lZaesar even then. N y did you reject that last @fi? you accepted that third counsel of the mighv spirit, you would have furnished all that man seeks on earth, that is: someone to bow down to, someone to take over his conscience, and a mems for uniting eveqone at last into a common, concordant, and incontes~bleanthill-for the need for universal union is the third and last torment of men. ManXrind in its entirety has always yearned to arrange things so that they must be universal. There have been many great nations with great histories, but the higher these nations stood, the unhappier they were, for they were more strongly aware than o&ers of the need for a universal union of manlcind. Great conquerors, Tamerlanes and Genghis Khans, swept over the earth like a whirlwind, yearning to conquer the cosmos, but they, too, expressed, albeit unconsciously; the same great need of mankind for universal and general union. Had p u accepted the world and Caesar" purple, you would have founded a universd kingdam and granted universal peace. For who shall possess manXrind if not those who possess their conscience and give them their bread? And so we took Caesar's sword, and in taking it, of course, we rejected p u and foXlowd him. Oh, there will be centuries mare of the lawlessness of free reason, of their science and anthropophag-for, having began to build their Tawer of Babe1 without us, they will end in anthrogophaw. h d it is then that the beast will come crawling to us and lick our feet and spatkr them with tears of blood from its eyes, And we shall sit upon the beast and raise the cup, and on it will be wri~en:"Mystery!" But then, and then only, will the kingdom of peace and happiness come for mankind. You are proud of your chosen ones, but p u have only your chosen ones, whiIe we will pacify-all, And there is stiIX more: how

many among those chosen ones, the strong ones who might have become the chosen ones, have finally grown tired of waiting for p u , and have brought and will yet bring the powers of their spirit and the ardor of their hearts to another field, and will end by raising their free banner against p u ! But p u raised that banner yaurself, With us everyone will be happy, and they will no longer rebel or destrq each other, as in p u r freedom, everyhere, Oh, we shall convince them that they will only become free when they resiw their freedom to us, and submit to us. Will we be right, do you think, or will we be lying? They thernselves will be convinced that tve are right, for they will remember to what horrors of slavery and conhsion p u r freedom led them, Freedom, free reason, and science will lead them into such a maze, and confront them with such miracles and insoluble mysteries, that some of them, unruly and ferocious, will exterminate themselves; others, unruly but feeble, will exterminate each other; and the remaining third, feeble and wretched, will crawl to our feet and cry out to us: "Yes, p u were right, you alone possess his mystery, and we are coming back ta you-save us from ourselves." Receiving bread from us, they will see clearly, of course, that we take from them the bread they have procured with their own hands, in order to distribute it among them, without any miracle; they will see that we have not turned stones into bread; but, indeed, more than over the bread itself, they will rejoice over taking it from our hands! For they will remember only too well that before, without us, the very bread they procured for themselves turned ta stones in their hands, and when they came back to us, the very stones in their hands turned ta bread, Too wdl, far too well, will they appreciate what it means ta submit once and for all?And until men understand this, they will be unhappy. 'Who contributed most of all to this lack of understanding, tell me? m o broke up the Rock and scattered it upon paths unhown? But the flock will gather again, and again submit, and this time once and for all. Then we shaa give them quiet, humble happiness, the happiness of feeble creatures, such as they were created. Oh, we shall finally convince them not to be proud, for p u raised them up and thereby taught them pride; we shall prove to them that they are feeble, that they are only pitiful children, but that a child" happiness is sweeter than any other, They will become timid and look ta us and cling to us in kar, like chicks ta a hen, 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") but just as readily at a gesture from us they will pass over to e i e v and laughter, to bright joy and happy children" song, Yes, we will make them work, but in the hours free h m labor we will arrange their lives like a children's game, with childreds songs, chorrtses, and innocent dancing. Oh, we will aUow

them to sin, too; they are weak and powerless, and they wifl 10% us like children for anowing them to sin. We will tell &ern that every sin will be redeemed if it is committed with our permission; and that we snow them to sin because we love them, and as b r the punishment b r these sins, very well, we take it upon ourselves. And we will take it upon ourselves, and they will adore us as benehctors, who have borne their sins before God, And they will have no secrets from us, We will allow or forbid them to live with their wives and mistresses, to have or not to have cbildren-all depending on their obedience-and they will submit to us gladly and jo~ufly.The most tormenting secrets of their conscience-all, all they will bring to us, and we wifl decide all things, and they will joyfully believe our decision, because it wifl deliver them from their great care and their present terrible torments of personal and free decision. And evevane will be happy, all the millions of creatures, except b r the hundred thousand of those who govern them. For only we, we who keep the mystery; only we shall be unhappy. There will be thousands of millions of happy babes, and a hundred thousand suEerers who have taken upon themselves the curse of the howledge of good and evil. Peacefully they will die, peacefully they will expire in your name, and bepnd the grave they will find only death. But we- will keep the secret, and far their own happiness we will entice them with a heavenly and eternal reward. For even if there were anphing in the next world, it would not, of course, be for such as they, ft is said and prophesied that you will come and once more be victorious, you will come with your chosen ones, with your proud and mighv ones, but we will say that they saved only themselves, while we have saved everpne. It is said that the harXot who sits upon the beast and holds nzystery in her hands will be disgaced, that the feeble will rebel again, that they will tear her purple and strip bare her "loathsome" body. But then I will stand up and point out to you the thousands of millions of happy babes who do not h o w sin. And W, who took their sins upon ourselves for their happiness, we will stand bebre p u and say: ""Judge us if you can and dare," b o w &at I am not ahaid of you, Know that X, too, was in the wgderness, and 1, too, ate locusts and roots; that 1, too, blessed freedom, with which y-ou have blessed mankind, and I, too, was preparing to enter the number of chosen ones, the number of the strong and mighty, with a thirst "that the number be complete? But I awoke and did not want to serve madness, X returned and joined the host of those who have corrected your deed* X left the proud and returned to the humble, far the happiness of the humble, M a t I am telling you will come true, and our kingdom will be established. Tomorrow, I repeat, you will see this obedient flock, which at my first gesture will rush to heap hot coals around your stake, at which f shall burn you for having come to interfere with us, For if anyone has ever deserxd our stake, it is you. Tomorrow X shall burn you. Dixi.""

Ivan stopped, He was flushed from spe&ng, and from speaking with such enthusiasm; but when he finished, he suddenly smiled, Alyosha, who all the whtle had listened to him silendy, though towards the end, in great agitation, he bad started many times to interrupt his brother's speech but obviously restrained himself, suddenly spoke as if tearing himself loose, "But . . . that's absurd!" he cried, blushing. ""Uourpoem praises Jesus, it doesn't revile him . . . as you meant it to. h d who will believe you about freedom? Is that, is that any way to understand it? It's a far cry kom the Orhodox idea . . .It's Rome, and not even the whole of Rome, that isn't true-theykg the worst of Catholicism,the Inquisitors, the Jesuits . . . f But &ere could not even possibly be such. a fantastic person as your Inquisitor, m a t sins do they take on themselves? Viho are these bearers of the mystery who took some sort of curse upon themselves for men's happiness? Has anyone ever s e a them? We know the Jesuits,bad things are said &out &ern, but are they what p u have there? n e y k e not that, not that at alI . . . Theyke simply a Roman army, for a futut.e universal earthly kingdom, with the emperor-the pontiff' of Rome-at their head . . . that" their ideal, but without any mysteries or lofty sadness . . .Simply the lust for power, for filtfry earthly lucre, enslavement . . . a sort of future serfdom with them as the landowners . . . that" all they have. i?r/Iaybethey don't even believe in God. Your suffering Inquisitor is only a fantasy . , . ." "But wait, wait? ban was laughing, ""do%get so excited. A fantasy, p u say?Let it be, Qf course it%a fantasy; But still, let me ask: do you really think that this whole Catholic movement of the past few centuries is really nothing but the lust for power only for the sake of filthy lucre? Bid Fa&er Paissy teach you hat?" "No, no, on the contrary, Father Paissy once even said something like what you .. .but not like that, of course, not at alI like that: Myosha suddenly recollected himself, ""A precious bit of information, however, despite your h o t at all like that,? ask you specifically: why should p u r Jesuits and Inquisitors have joined together only for material wicked lucre?Why can" there happen to be among them at least one sufferer who is tormented by great sadness and loves mankind? Look, suppose that one among all those who diesire only material and filthy lucre, that one of them, at least, is like my old Inquisitor, who himself ate roots in the desert and raved, overcoming his flesh, in order to make himself free and perfect, but who still loved mankind all his life, and suddenly opened his eyes and s w that there is no great moral blessedness in achieving perfection of the will only to become convinced, at the same time, that miUions of the rest of God's creatures have been l be strong enough to manage their set up only for mockeq, &at they ~ 4 lnever f eedom, that from such pitiftll rebds will never come giants to complete the

tower, that it was not for such geese that the great ideafist had his dream of harmony, Having understood all that, he returned and joined . . . the intelligent people. Qrxldrr't this have happened!" " m o m did he join? m a t intelligent pmple?" Alyosha mclaimed, almost passionately. "They are not so very intelligent, nor do they have any great mysteries and secrets . . . Exept maybe for godlessness, that's their whole secret, Your Inquisitor doesdt believe in God, that's his whole secret!" " m a t of it! At last you've understood, Yes, indeed, that alone is the whole secret, but is it not sugering, if only for such a man as he, who has willsted his whole life on a great deed in the wilderness and still has not been cured of his love for mankind! In his declining years he comes to the clear conviction that only the counsels of the great and dread spirit could at least somehow organiz the feeble rebds, "he unfinished, trial creatures creakd in mocker$ in a tolerable way. And so, convinced of that, he sees that one must foXlow the directives of the intelligent spirit, the dread spirit of death and destruction, and ta that end accept lies and deceit, and lead people, consciously now to death and destruction, deceiving them, moreover, all along the way? so that they somehow do not notiw where they are being led, so that at least on the tvay these pitihl, blind men consider themselves happy And deceive them, notice, in the name of him in whose ideal the old man befieved so passionately all his life! Is that not a misfortune?And if even one such man, at least, finds himself at the head of that whole army "lusting for power only for the sake of filthy lucre,"is one such man, at kast, not enough ta make a tragedy? Moreover, one such, man standing at its head would be enough to bring out finally the real ruling idea of the whole Roman cause, with a11 its armies and Jesuit-the hi&est idea of this cause. I tell you outri@t that I firmly belim that this one man has never been lackng among those standing at the head of the movement. N o knows, perhaps such bnes%ave even been found among the Roman pontiffs. TNE.lo haws, maybe this accursed old man, who loves mankind so stubbornly in his own way2eksts even now, in the form of a great host of such old men, and by no means acciden~uy,but in concert, as a sc3cret union, organized long ago for the purpose of keeping the mystery, of keeping it h m unhappy and feeble mankind with the aim of making them happy It surely mists, and it should be so. X imagine that even the Masons have somefiing like this mystew as their basis, and that Catholics hate the Masons so much because they see them as competitors, breaking up the unity of the idea, whereas there should be one flock and one shepherd . . . However, the way I" defending my thought makes me seem like an author who did not stand up to your criticism. Enough of that." "May& pu're a iMason yourseMY~uddenly esmped from Ayosha. "You don't believe in God; he added, this time with great sorrow*Besides, it seemed ta him

that his brother was looking at him mockingly. ""And how does your poem end,"" he asked suddenly, s ~ r i n at g the ground, "or was that the end?" " h a s going to end it like this: when the Inquisitor fell silent, he waited some time b r his prisoner ta reply. His silence weighed on him. He had seen haw the captive listened to him all the while intently and calmly; lool?ringhim straight in the eye, and apparently not wishing to contradict anpbing, The old man would have liked him to say something, even something bitter, terrible, But suddenXy he approaches the old man in silence and gently kisses him on his bloodless, ninevyear-old lips, That is the whok answer. The old man shudders. Something stirs at the corners of his mouth; he walks ta the door, opens it, and says to hirn: G o and do not come again . . . do not come at all . . . never, never!-nd he lets hirn out inta the 'dark squares of the city7The prisoner goes away,'" "And the old man?" "The hiss burns in his heart, but the old man holds to his former idea." "And you with him! Alyosha exclaimed ruehlly*Ivan laughed, "But it's nonsense, Ayoslxa, it's just the muddled poem of a muddled student who never mote two lines of verse. my are you taking it so seriously?You don't think I'll go straight to the Jesuits now, to join the host of those who are correcting his deed! Good lord, what do I care?As I told you: I just want to drag on until f hthifiy, and then-smash the cup on the floor!" Xnd the sticky little leaves, and the precious graves, and the blue sky, and the woman you love! How will you live, what will you love them with?" AXyosha exclaimed ruehlly*""Iit possible, with such hell in your heart and in your head? No, you%eprecisely going in order ta join h e m . . .and if not, pu'lll kill yourself, you wn't eenduire it!" everything,"'said Ivan, this time with a cold "There is a force that will e n d u ~ smirk. " m a t farce?'' "The Karamazov force . . .the force of the Karannazov baseness." "To drown in depraviw to stifle your soul with corruption, is that it?" "That, too, pahaps . . . only until my thirtieth. year maybe X I escape it, and then.. . " "How will you escape it? I)).means sf what? With your though&, it's impossible." "Again, in Karamazov fashion? "You mean %evq&ng is permitted? Everything is permitted, is that right, is it?'" Ivan frwned, and suddenly turned somehow strangely pale. "Ah, you caught that Little remark yesterday, which ogended Miusov so much .. . and that brother Dmitri so naively popped up and rephrased?" he grinned

crookedly-"Yes, perha-gs 'everphing is permi~ed," since the word has dready been spoken, I do not renounce it. And Mitenka's version is not so bad," Alyosha was looking at him saendy* "X thought, brother, that when X left here I'd have you, at least, in all the world; Ivan suddenly s p o h with unexp~tedfeeling, "but now I see that in your heart, too, there is no room for me, my dear hermit, 3%e formula, kverphing is permitted,"I will not renounce, and what then? W a you renounce me for that? W21 you?" Alpsha stood up, w n t over to him in ssilence, and gentay kissed him on the lips, "Literary theft!" ban cried, suddenly going into some kind of rapture. "You stole that from my poem! Thank p u , however, Get up, AIyosha, let" go, it's time we both did."" They went out, but stopped on the porch of the tavmn. "So, Myasha: Ivan spoke in a firm mice, "iff,indeed, I hold out for the sticky litrle leaves, I shaU love them only remembering you. It's enough for me that you are here somewhere, and I shall not stop wnting to live, Is that enou@ for you? If you wish, you can take it as a declaration of love. h d now you go ri@t, I'll go lefi-and enough, p u hear, enough. f mean, even if I don" go away tomorrow (but it seems f certainly shall), and we somehow meet again, not another word to me on any of these subjects. An urgent request. And with regard to brother Dmitri, too, X ask you particularlysdo not ever even mention him to me again:" he suddenly added irritably; ""I's aZI d a u s t e d , it%all taked out, isn" it? And in return for that, X will also make you a promise: when X" thirty and want ?to smash the cup on the ;Roar,' then, wherever you may be, I will still come to talk things over with you once more . . .even from h e r i c a , I assure you. I will make a point of it, It will also be very interesting to have a look at you by then, to see what" become of you. Ra&er a solemn promise, you see, And indeed, perha-gs weke saying goodbye for some seven or ten years. Well, go now to your Pater Serqhicus; he's dying, and if he dies without you, p u m;ly be angv with me for now go . . . " having kept you. Good-bye, kiss me once mores-and Ivan turn& suddenly and went his way without baking back, Xt was similar to the way his brother Dmitri had left ftyosha the day before, though the day before it was somehing quite diEerent. This strange little obsewation Bashed like an arrow through the sad mind of Alyosha, sad and sorrodul at that moment. He waited a little, looking after his broher, For some reason he suddenly noticed that his brother Ivan somehow swayed as he walked, and that his right shoulder, seen from behind, appeared lower than his left, He had never noticed this before, But suddenly he, too, turned and almost ran to the monastery. It was dready getting quite dark, and he felt almost frightened; something new was growing in

him, which fie would have been unable to explain. The wind rose again as it had yesterdsty, and the centuries-old pine trees rustled gloomily around him as he entered the hermitage woods. He was almost running. "Pater Seraphicus-fie gat that name from somewhere-but where?" flashed through Alyosha" mind. " h n , poor lvan, when shall I see you again . . . ? Lord, here's the hermitaigef Yes, yes, that's him, Pater Seraphicus, he will save me . . . from him, and forever!" Several times, later in his iik, in great perplexiry; he wondered how he could suddenly, after parting with. his brother I n n , so completely forger about his brother Dmitri, when he had resolved that morahg, only a few hours earlier, that he must find him, and would not leave until fie did, even if it meant not returning to the monastet-erythat ni&t,

Notes l. Nichofas Berdyaev, Dostoeoevsky trans. Danald AWatw (Mew York: Warfd, 19571, pp. 204,2 10,226,Berdyaev"sstudy of Dostoevsb was first published in English translation in 1934, 2. Letter of 10 May 1879 to his puMisher, Nikoliai A. Lyubirnov, in. Selected Z;c?~eoers ofpyodor Bos~oevsky~ e h . foseph Frank and David X. Gdhtein, trms, Andrew R Machdrew (London: Rutgers Universiv Press, 19871, p, 464. 3. George Steiner, ""An Exact Art," in No P~ssionSpent (New Haven: YaXe University Press, 19961, pp, 203,206, The italics are Steiner's. 1.Vladimir Solo~ov, "Tri rechi v pamyatWostawshgo~in. Sobranie sochinenii (Brussds, 1966), vol. 3-4, p. 193. SW also idem, Lecmres on Gdmanhood (London, 1948) for a philosaphical ~ o s i t i o nof the three temptations of Cbrrig. It is probable that SolovyoJs account of the temptations reflects his discussions with Dosroevsky himself about the meaning of "The Graxztl hquisitor."

three

Breaking the Sea Dostoevsky and Meaning in History

Dostoevsb and other writers of the nineteenth century (such as Nietzsche) whom we now consider prophetic fascinate us in part because of their ;tbiliq to discern an underl-g sense to histov-so much so, that they were able to extrapolate from the events and trends of their century to m& remarkably accurate predictions about the one to come. Our fascination with these prophetic voiws can be seen as an aspect of what Hannah Arendt has carlied ""the unprecedented historical consciousness" of the modern age. Matever the differences among the dominant ideologies of the mentieth century, they manifest a common orientation toward mastery of the hture that is rooted in a certain conception of meaning in h&tory. The word h b t o r ~no less than words such asfieedorrr and creativit~lies at the core of &e contemporary consciousness." In his concern with the crisis of moderniq, Dos;tctevsb did not fail to notice its unprecedented historical sensibiXity. His Grand Inquisitor duly eAibits this smsibility; appealing repeatedliy to history. as a verification of his formula for final human happiness. The Inquisitor" vision is both global and wrld-historical, and in this he is tlrorougHy modern, Vet, insi&t into the hidden patterns of history can easily be superseded by history itself. "The Grand Inquisitor" ogers a remarhbie meditation on the meaning of world history, but just haw remarkable does it remain today? As a prophetic discernment of the advent of ~entieth-centurytoalitarianism by a writer living in the latter nineteenth century, does it remain remarkabl-other than as a historical curiosity-for those living in the ~enty-firstcentury?If Dos-

toevsws ""Grand Inquisitor" continues to be prophetic for us, then it should reveal a possibiliq that has not yet been foreclosed by intervening historical eventa In his book The End ofHistory and the Last Man, Francis Fukuyama has a r p e d that despite the fact that the human expmience of much of this century has been that of Xivirzg under totalitarianism this experience is findly to be interpreted as a detour (albeit enormous) fiom the goal toward which the "locomotive of History" is cdarly headed-the global realization of liberal democratic order. The to~litariantemptation is not a permanent human possibijity brat an aberration explicable in terms of specific and temporary historicallcultural circumstances, a "disease of the transition" to global liberal democracy: At the end of the mentie& century, Hitler and Salin appear ta be bypaths of history that led to dead ends, razlher than real alternatives for humm social organization, Wile their human costs were incalculable, these totalitarianisms in their purest form burned themselves out wihin a lifetim-Witlerism in 1945, and Stalinism by 1956, . . . Of course . .. we have no parantee and annot assure &mre generations that &ere wiU be no &ture Hitlers or Z"ol Pots . .. .On the other hand, a Universal Z-Xisloryneed not justiQ every t-yrandcd regime and every war t.o expose a meaningful, larger paMern in human evolution, The powr and long-term regulariq of that evolutionary process is not dijninished if we admit that it was subject ta large and apparentlyunexphinabledisconthuities, any more than the biological tkory of evolution is undermined bty the fact of the sudden ainction of the dinosaurs .. . . It Its not sugcient to simply cite the HoXocaust and ewect discourse on the question of progress or rationdiq in human history to end, much as the horror of this event should make us pause . . . . It is possible to understand nazisrn as another, albeit extreme, variant of the ""disease of the transition: a byprodua of the moeiernization process that W by no means a mcm.ss;trycomponent of modernity itself. . , . Fascism is a pathofogiCdl and extreme corsditioa by whkh one wnnorjtkdge modernip as a .tvhok2 Egregiously-complacent though these assurances might seem, especially when one &inks of the human sugering caused by totalitarianism, Fukuyama does not make the x r r i s ~ kof simply equating historical success with truth and right, His view that liberal democracy represents the ultimate goal of moderniw whereas to~litarianismis but a temporary detour, is justified by what he takes to be the superior philosophical tru& of liberalism (particularly in its Hegelian version)that human beings a n and will be salisfied in their essence only b v h e social order based on equali~yofrecognition. If Fukuyama" argument is valid, then Dostoevsws "Grand Inquisitor" "offers propbetic insight into certain major events of the ~exztiethc e n t u r ~but not into the historical destiny of modernity itself. We can retrospedively acknowledge

Dostoevsky's insight into the looming threat of mentieth-century totafitrrrianism, but this insight is historically limited; it is not an insight into an ongoing or permanent possibility on a world-historical scale. Dostaevsb was prophetic for his time, but not b r ours, as we have now emerged from the nightmare of defeated and discredited totalitarian regimes. Is "The Grand Inquisitor" still required reading b r those who seek insight into the problem of human order as tve enter the n e s mifienniuml Do Hitlerism and Stalinism e&aust the totalibarian possibilities revealed through ""The Grand Inquisitor," or w r e they merely partial embodiments of a human temptation discerned by Dostaevsky and still concealed within the global success of liberal democracy?wt-h these questions in mind, let us turn to the Inquisitor" m d ~ tion on the problem of meaning in history;

The Grand Inquisitor's Account of

Meaning in History The Gospel story of Christ's temptation in the wilderness (Ma~hew4: 1-1 I) pro&des the Eramework for the Inquisitf;o$sinterpretation of world history: "If it were possible to imagine . . ,that those three quetstions of the dread spirit had been lost from the books without a traw, and it was necessilry that they be restored, thou@t up and invented anew . . . and to that end all the wise men on earthrulers, hi& priests, scholars, philosophers, poet-were brought together and given this task to think up . . . three questions such as would not only correspond to the scde of the even&b u moreover, ~ wuZd mpress h . . . three ktumn phrases only, the entilte kture histofy of the world and m a d h d 4 o you t h that~ alI the cornbined wisdom of the earth could thi& up anphhg faintly resembling in force and depth those three questions that w r e sadly presented to you then by the povver&l and intelligent spirit in the wilderness? . , . Far in these three questions all of subsequent human history is as if brought together into a sirsgle whole and foretold; three images are revealed that wifX take in all the insoluble historid caxxtradidions of human nawre over all the earth, This could not have been seen so well at the time, for the hture was unhown, but now that fi&een centuries have gone by, we can see that in, these three questions everwing m s so p~ciselydivined and foretoZd, and has proved so completely tme, that to add to them or subtract anything from them h impossible.'"144]*

*Here and below; references appearing imide paren&eses in the narrativ-unless o&e+se indicated-are page numbers in Fyodar Dostomsb, t172e Brothm mranrazov, trms, Richard Pevmr and Lariw Volahansky (New York Vmtage, 1980). Refermces hside square brackets afe p a g nmbers in "The Grand hquisitorr rqrinteri from the aforemm~onededi~on,in Chap%=2 of &c presmt volume.

The Inquisitor regards the biblical account of Christ" temptation in the wilderness as prophetic in the popular sense of foretelling the fixture. Fift:een centuries of world history.>as he interprets it, have already. confirmed the accuracy of much of what was ""dvined and foretold" in the Bible. This historical confirmation justifies the sense of certainty with which he speaks of the hture yet to unhld: " m a t I am telling you will come true, and our kingdarn will be estabiished""f5l]. Vet the Inquisitor is also concerned with pmpbeq in the more auhentic sense. The three questions posed to Christ fiumine the unhown futut.e not &rough some inexplicable magical divining but through their insight into the r e a l i ~underlying the transient moments of history.>the reality of human nature, or more precisely.>""te historic;pl contradictions of human nature." The Inquisitor wishes to speak, with the philosophers, about a political order that satisfies humanity gua hurnmity, a permanent order uover all the earth.""Accordingto him, although the three questions made their appearance within a particular cultural horizon, if they are pmperly interpreted, heis import is universal; they concern alI the wise on ear&, ""rjers, high priests, scholars, pbaosopbers, poetsP The Inquisitor is not explicit about his understanding of the relation bemeen the particularities of history. and human nature "over all the earth." His emphasis contradictions""of human nature implies that what is esential on the ""fist~torical to humaniq, although it mi&t be present potentially always and evewhere, is adualized in and &rough the historical process. Subsequent human history thus not only confirms the insight of the three questions; it unfolds the chief elements of that insight, Among the philosophers, it is Hegel, especially, to whom the Inquisitor appears dose-ai closeness only more apparent when tve consider his account of world history as a three-stage development. According to h e Inquisitor, each of the three questions posed in Matthew's Gospel reveals a fundamental inclination of human nature, and at the same time, a historical epoch. The aspea of essential human nature expressed in the first tempation is the need b r obedience: "Recall the first westion; its meanhg, though not Iiterallly; was this: 'You want to go into the world, and you are going empty-bneled, with some promise of freedom, which they in their simpliiciziy and innate lawlessness cannot even camprehe&, which they dread and fear-for nolihing has ever been more insufferable for man and for human society than freedom! But do you see these stones in this bare, d run after you like sheep, scorching desert? Turn &em into bread and m a ~ n win gratehl and obedient , . . But you did not wmt to deprive m n of frcledom and rejecrgd the offer, for what sort of freedom i s it, you reasoned, if obedience is bought with loaves of bresldlD[44] ?.

The h&toricalepoch corresponding to the human need for obedience was long since undeway when Jesus appeared with h&""promise of freedomm-the epoch of tribal unity based on "communality of worship" and strict adherence to the " h m ancient lawW[46), 3%is corresponds to the first stage in Hegel's philosophy of histar5 the ancient ""Orienbl World," in, which "the individual. never comes ta the consciousness of independence," not even among the Hebrews, where the individud was subsumed within the famay and a natlionality rooted in an exclusive religious faith.3 Alhough the idea of individual hedonn first made its appearance in the ancient world, among the Greeks, even Plato ancl Aristofle " h e w only that some are free,""not human beings as such.4 For the Inquisitor-as, again, for Hegel-it is Christianitythat brings fully to light that other aspect of essential human nature, revealed in the second taptation-he desire br freedom: He alone can take over the freedom of men who appeases their concience, ...There is nothfng more seduaive for man than the freedom of his conscience, but there is nolihing more tormenting either.. ..The dread and wise spirit set you on a pimacle of the Temple and said to you: ""Iyou muld h o w whether or not you are the Son of God, cast yourself down, for it is written of hirn that angels will bear hirn up. .and then you will h o w whe&er you are the Son of God, and will prove what faith! you have in your Father." But you heard and rejected the offer and did not yield and did not throw yourself down.. ..But, T repeat, are there many like you? And, indeed, could you possibly have assumed, even for a moment, that mmkind, too, would be strong enough for such a temptation?Is that how hum= napl;trewas crea~d-to re)ect the miracle, and in those terrible moments of life, the moments of the mo& terrible, essential, and tormenting qvestioxls of the soul, to remain only with the free decision of the hear;t?[4&-473

It is clear that &e human attraction to hedrom is not understood by the Inquisitor as primaray a matter of political liberv, though this could be one of its appropriate ramifications; nor is the Inquisitor thinking of the freedom ta satis@material desires. If the latta were the case, then f'xeedom w u l d pose litae challenge to human unity; for obedience can easily be ""bught with loaves of bread." The freedom at issue in the Inquisitor's interpretation of the second tempLation is above aU an internd experience of consciousness, a sense of one's independence not only h r n etaernal a u h o r i ~ but also from natural impulse and desire, It is the inner sense of moral responsibility, or in the Inquisitor" words, ""freedom of conscience." Nothing, the Inquisitor maintains, has been more seductive to human beings &an this ""freedom of conscienceB-and no&ing has been more tormenting. The "seduction" and the "torment" together have shaped the second great epoch of human history; stretching from Jesus ta Luther fin the Xnquisitork own

time) and beyond, into the modern age, Jesus, the "great idealist""q,was r@t in his estimation that human beings will throw away "eafily bread""for the sake of the "heavenly bread" of keedom of conscience; but he was wang in his failure t-o provide also the means of appeasing the moral conscience once it has been aroused: "It was impossible to Xmve h e m in greater conhsion and torment than p u did . . . '7471. It w s the task of those who organi~edthe church bearing Jesus's name to appease and to tame the individual's awakned consciousness of moral independence. This, according to the Inquisitor, was the @eat historical accomplishment of medieval Roman Ca&olicism, which transformed the church from a spiritual communit-y into an ecclesiastical power based on ""miracle, mystey, and authorityr"i481.The human need for obedience was given precedence over the desire for freediom, and a semblance of the unified cornrnuniq enjoyed by pre-Christian society was restored. It could, of necessity, only be a "semblance," bemuse once ""freedom of conscience" had made its appearance in history, it beame an aspect of essential human natut.e that could not be ignored. It could, however, be ap"For fifiteen hundred years peased by deception, and moreover, by ~d~deception: we have been at pains over this keedom, but now it is finished, and well finished . . . .Know, then, that now, precisely now, these people are more certain than ever before that they are completely free, and at the same time they themselves have brought us their fieedom and obediently laid it at our feet, It is our doing, but is it what you wanted? This sort of ~eedionn?"M43]Human credulity2the desire for obedience that is isndamental to essential human nature, nostalgia b r the last univ of the "firm ancient laww-all facilitated the "correctian" of Jesus" work that was acconnpiisfrzed by the Inquisitor and his allies. Let us refer yet again to Hegel's Phihsophy ofHi&~ry: Thus the Church took the place of Conscience; it put men in leading strings like chLldren, and told them that man could not be freed from the torme-nts which his sins had merited by any m e n b e n t of his own moral condition, but by oumard actions, opera operafa-actions which were not the promptings of his own goodwifX, but pedormed biy commmd of the ministers of the Church . . . actions which are unspirimaf, stupe* the soul, and which are not only mere extemd arernonies, but are such as can be even vicariously performed . . . .Thus tvas produced an uMer derangement of dl that h recognized as p o d and moral in the Christian Church ... .A condition the very reverse of Freedom is htruded into the principle of Freedom itself.5

The Inquisitor, who announces that we are now ""finished" with the free individual, might well consid@himself therefore to be standing at the end af history

That he is aaually standing at the beginning of the modern era must strike the reader as ironic, though the irony is mitigated greatly by the Inquisitor" own sense of the troubles yet to come, h o & e r "peat idealist,""Luther, has recently appeared "in the north, in Germany: and just the day before his encounta with the ChristZike prisoner, the Inquisitor himself had supemised the burning of ""almost a hundred heretics at once" l 4l], He knows, therehre, that &eediomaf conscience is not entirely finished, that there is rebellion evewhere, and that h i s rebeilion might even "tear down" the temple of ecclesiastial powef=He anticipates, hrther, that Protes.L;tntismwill haugurate "centuries more" of "fieedorn, free reaon, and science: which. will end with the rejection of the image of Christ, even in its Protestant form, And he anticipates that this extended rebellion will finally provoke another counterreaction toward unity, this time of an entirely secular sort: ""Iplace of your temple a new edifice will be raised, the tarible Tower af Babel will be raised again"M4Sj. With the aid of Dostaevsky"s hindsight, the medieval Inquisitor is able to divine, without naming them explicitly, the Protestant Reformation, the rise of modern science and the Enlightenment, the French Revolution, and the nineteenth-century liberal-socialist experiments in reconciling individual freedom with social unity on the basis of reason alone. To emphasize this point again, however: The Inquisitor" insight into the future is not an instance of quasimagical divination but an inference from his penetration into the present rediq of essrzrrtial human nature. This realiw reveded in the first two temptations af Matthew's Gospel, is one of csniiradictsry desires for obedience in unity and freedom in individuality. The historia! hture anticipatd by the Inquisitor is simply the playing-out of this uazs~bletension be~eezrthe nostalgia for a lost cornmunity and the attraction of free individualir-y; The Inquisitor's interpretation of world history e ~ e n d to s the era of his creator, Dostoevsb, and then bepnd. This movement of insight beyond the present of Dostoevsky.into our present (and perhaps hrther yet?) is propeBed by the Inquisitor" inl-grpreationof the third and last tempta~on:"Why did you reject that last gift? Had you accepted that third counsel af the mighv spirit, you would have Eurnished all that man seeks an earth, that is: someone to bow down to, someone to take over his conscience, and a means b r uniting every-one at last into a common, concordant, and incontestable anthiill-for the need for universal union is the t h i d and last torment of men""1.4. Nas~fgiafor the lost unity of ancient times, a nostal&iathat has charaderked the historical epoch corresponding to the second temptation, must be trmsformed into the hopeful expectation of a future unity, yet on a higher level. ""HigErer" b a u s e it will take into account and satis+ the human desire for heedom of conscience: "We shall convine them that they will only become free when they resign heir fieedom to usW[fi0].And

"Egfier" also because the reconciliation of social unity and individual keedom will be global raber than particular and exclusive, for the need for a union that is universal is the third fundamental aspect of human nature revealed in Matthew's Gospel: "Mankind in its entirety has always yearned to arrange things so that they must be universalm[49].Although intimations of this yearning for a global order have always been present in history, its hlfillment belongs to the third epoch, the final epoch of human history. The desires fox obedience in uun&y,for freedom in individuitfi~,and for a global order that resolves these historical contradktions of human natuire will find total satisfaction in the hture anticipated by the Inquisitor, With this find satisfaction, the rebellious impulse that drives the transformations of history will cease: "The Rock will gather agah.. .and this time once and for al1""Oj. Alt-Erough events will continue ta occur, significant history will have come to an end, since the god that conferred meaning and significance on human. struggles will have been attained, Fukuyama employs a colorful metaphor (and an. appropriate one, given the American face of contemporary liberal democracy) to conclude his argument, inspired by Hegel and Hegel's most notable twentieth-century interpreter, Alexandre Kajkve-to wit, that the end of history is now upon us: Rather &ma thousmd shoots blossoming into as many different flowering plmts, d will come to seem like a long wagon train stmng out along a road. Some wagons will be pulling into town sharply and crbply; while others will be bivouacked back in the desert, or else stuck in ruts in the final pass over the mountains, Several Mlagons, attacked by Indians, wifX have been set aBme and abandoned along the way. There will be a few wagoneers who, sunned by the ba~le,wiU have lost their sense of direaion and are: temporarily heading in the wrong direction, wh2e one or two wagons wiU get tired of the journey and decide to set up permanent c m p s at particular points back along the road . . . , But the great majsriq of wagons win be m&ng the slow journey into town, and most will eventually arrive there . . , , amandre Koj6ve bdieved that ultimately history itself would ~ n d i a t e its own rationdiv. That is, enough wagons wuXd pull into town such rhar any reasonable person looking at the situation. would be forced to agree that there bad been only one journq and one destination.6

The town into which the wagons are pulling and will continue to pull is named (CZapitalist Liberal Democracy, It is not a town entirely free of problems such as unempllopent, pollution, drugs, crime, and the especiaDy vexatious issues of social poEq generated by the c o m p ~ i n gclaims of freedom and equaliq w i h k a liberal democratic order, Such difi?culties,however, Fukuyama assures us, are a matta of fine-tuning rather than a g o d to undertaking a new journey, &cause

liberal dernocraq constitutes the best possible solution to the human problem, It alone, of all possible human orders, h l m s our essential humaniq by satis*ng the desire of free individuals for equal recognition: The success of dexnocrltcy in. a wide variety of plams and m o q many ctiEerent peoples w u l d susest.&at the principles of Iberq and equalit-yon which hey are based are not accicfents or the raults of e&nocentric prejudice, but are: hfact diswveries about the natu~ureof man as man, whose truth does not dhinish but grows more evicfent as one's point of view becomes more cosmopolitan . . . . If we are now at a point where we annot imaghe a world substmtidly digerent from our own . . , then we must also take into consideration tfie gossibifiq that History itself rSli@t be at an end.7

If the Inquisitor and Hegel converge remarkably in their accounts of the major stages of humanity" historical journey, they diverge dramatially in their visions of the final destination. For Hetfel and his progresshist interplreters Kaj&veand Fukuyama, the freedom and equality vouchsafed in theory to humanity by Christianiy are realized in historical aduahty within global liberal democracy. The Inquisitor, on the contrary, asserts that the order that will finally satisfy "man as man" represents a fundamenal nzod$caz-i'on rather than a reatkation of fieedom and equaliq: fieedom diverted inta an illusion, and e q u a l i ~ only w i ~ i the n flock that has submitted " ~ n c eand for all" to its shepherds. The town inta which the wagons are pulling is a tyranny-the most complete tyranny coneeivable-because it is one that mast completely satisfies our hndarnenbl desires: "Then we shall give them quiet, humble happiness, the happiness of feeble creatures, such as they were created . . . . And everyone will be happy, all the millions of creatures, except for . . . those who govern thern"[li0,!51]. From the liberal progressivist perspectiw, the Inquisitor" vision of the end of History. a n only be an error that mistakes a temporary. and unfortunately alltoo-possible detour for the final goal itself. That the Inquisitor actually prefers vranny as the final solution to the human problem must be simply perverse and sympwmatic of his historical position; after all, he is a leading member of the authoritarian Roman. Catholic hierarchy, which substituted ecclesiastical power far the spiritual power preached biy Jesus. In thus situating his character, Dostoevsky seems actually to confirm the progressivist thesis that twentieth-century totalitarianism is a "disease of the transition" to liberal democracy, made possible by the persistence of reGligious, nationalist, ethnic, and other fanaticisms of the past. It might well be arwed that in offering "The Grand Inquisitor" as a prophetic judgment on modernity as a whole, Dostoevsky was being far too pessimistic,

This, or something like it, would be the liberal progressivist perspective on "The Grand Inquisitor" as prophecy for todsty.5 world. But whait. if we turn the tables and ask &out the Inquisitor's perspective on the modern progressivirit:interpreQtion of history? "The Grand Inquisitor" is the culmination of a sustained meditation on the modern idea of history as progress that is to be found throughout Dostoevsky's major writings,

Dostoevsky's Account of Modern Progressivism Let us turn our attention, first, to Notesfiona the Ilizeterpund where Dostoevsky broached many themes that were to became central in his later work. In the course of his assault an the pretensions of modern reason, the underground-man ridicules the arpment of one H, T. IlucXcle that humanlcitnd mellows under the influence of civilization and ""becomes less bloodthirsty and less inclined to ware7'& In his three-volume History of Cz'vilizatiz'onin England (published in a Russian edition in 18641, Buckle had offered a philosophy of history in which he equated advancing scientific h o d e d g e with advancing humaneness, As pmmisisxg evidence of the steady progress of European civilization,he cited ~o developments: the virtual disappearance of religious persecution and the steady decline of warfare, which "must be e-vident to the most hasty reader of European history;"" The heart-y optimism of BucXcle's philosophy of history has hardly been borne out by the subsequent facts of modern history; A century later, if he is rmemberd at all, it is primarib as the hapless object of the underground-man%caustic wit. Yet he was an e~remelyinfiuential spoksman far a dodrine of progress that captivated the nineteenth-century consciousness and that dearly continues, in various forms, to exercise a powedul influence today. Dostoevsky was fascinated by the mysterious process whereby ideas, once launched by their authors into the world, take on a life of their own and come to dominate the consciousness of people who have little or no awareness of their original source. The underground-man. cites Ziuckfe as a source for the idea of history as progress, There were, of course, many others who had given expression to the same idea with varying degrees of assurance and subtlev: Russian contemporaries of Dosroevsky, such as Belinsky, Heszen, Bakunin, and (Clhernyshevsky; and the Western progressivist phaosophers who most influenced them, such as Voftaise, Saint-Sinnon, Fourier, Schelling, HetfeI, and Marx. W e n Dostowsky was writing Notesp~rrrthe Underpun4 the left-llegelian intet-grlpre~tion of history was dominant among Russia's Westernized intelligentsia, Dostoevsky's chief concern, however, was not inteueaual history but the inner meaning and the implications of the modern faith in progress, whatever its particular variant.

According to the underground-man, modern progressivism places great ernphasis on the notion that world htstov is uItimately We might add that the assumption that human reason has the cvacity to grasp the find mean; was ining of history is apparent in the very phrase philosophy of h b ~ r ywhich vented by Vo12atire,11However, does this overt appeal to rationality pahaps mask a more deqi-y rooted impulse? For the underground man, reason is merely the tip of the iceberg, amounting to uperhay$one-lrtventietvof what constitutes human being. Under his scrutiny, the modern idea of plrrsgress is revealed not as the explression of dispassionate reason but as the symptom of fervent hope-hope for the "Crystal Palace" of the Euwre.iz The ""Crystal Palace" is one of a set of images-the Inquisitor" 'Tower of B;l_belnis another-that function in Dostow s w s art as signifiers of the modern hope that human htstory is progressively advancing toward its hlfillment in a new End of socid order, This hoped-for order, though ofien associated in Dostoevsky" writing with the French revolutionary slogan of It'bertd, dgali~t,f-rwtgrnitL,l3 is far more than "political" in the ordinary sense. As the narrator of The Brothers Karanzazov asserts in his introduaory words about Alpsha, "socialism is not only the labour question .. .but first of all . . . the question of the modern embodiment of atheism, the question of the Tower of Bsrbel built precisely without God . . . to bring heaven down to eartv (26).This expresses the essentially religious dimension of the modern progressivist expectation. Indeed, Dostoevsky"~work as a whole lends power&] support ta the argument that modern civilization should be understood not as somethingessrrrrtially novel but as somehow engendered by the same religious faith that it ostensibly rejects. Dastoevsky was not the first to inerpret the modern idea of progress as a secuiarixd expression of bibIicaI faith, Afier at2, the most phaosophically prabund of nineteenth-century liberal progessivists, Hegel, understood his XfaouglrxP as the rational fullillment of the truth anrained embryanically in Christianity. m a t is of special. significance in Dostaevsky. is his depiction of the inner moral dpamic of the secularizing process, a dpamic embodied most memorably in Ivan Karamamv's rebellion, Through Ivan" rebellion, Dostoevsky responds to the truly interesting question: How could Cfiristianiv produce such anti-Christian consequences? Ivan, whom Dostoevsky described in a letter as a "wesent-day, saious socialist,"" gives voice to that ancient, intractabl-e question of the Western xfaeoIogial tradition: How can the idea of a perfect God be reconciled with the affliction of human beings? The special feature of Ivads weU-hown argument apinst religious faith is usually. considered to be his willingness to accept God but not the "world . . . created by God"" (235). Ivan dismisses all of the logical proofs for or against the e~stenceof God generated by Western philosophy and focuses on theodiq, the issue that he finds most existentially.compelling. He opens his ar-

gument with an appeal to the senthent that provides the common spacwhere befiever and nonbefiever can meet as human beings-the senthent of comgassion for the suffering neighbar, Aeer affirming the importance of such compassion, Ivan proceeds to catalogue various "facts" of the world, with particular emphasis on the affliction of children, The pain evokd in the listener-Alpsha, and generations of readers of The Brotlzers Karamazov-prepares emotional ground into which the logic of lvan's argument can insinuate itself. Despite Ivads early claim that it is God"s wrld, rather than God, that he is rejecting, it is clear that his entire arpment leads ull-innatek to the rejection of God and h a t h i s was his intention all along. The logic of his argument is not original; indeed, it is at least as old as the book of Job. It was given its classic rational expression by eighteen&-century philosopher Dwid Hame: "Is God waing to prevent evil but not able?Then he is impotent, Is he able but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? m e n c e then evil?" Yet the driving force of this arwment, as developed in Ivan%rebellion, is not so much logial as moral: n o s e who genuinely love their suffering neighbor ought not, at the same time, to love God, who is responsible, direcrly or indirectly, for their neighbar's ssuffer;ing, In h e New Tesbxnent (Manhew 22:3"i"39, for instance), love of God and love of neighbor are presented as insegarde. ban's strategy is to affirm the second part of the Christian love-commandment, the love of neighbor, but then to argue that it is incompatible with the love of God. One must choose whether to love God or humanity: For the hundredth time l repeat: there are hosts of questions, but I've taken only the children, because here what X need to say is irrefutably clear, Listen: if everyone mu& suffer, in, order to buy eternal harmony with their suEering, pray tell me what have chsdren got to do with it? It's quite incomprehensibIe why they should have to suffer, and why they should buy harmony with their suffering, my do they get thrown on the pile, to manure someone's &future harmony . . , . 1 don't want harmony; for love of mankind I don't want it . , . , I'd rather remain with my umrequited sugering and my anquenched indlignation, men if1 am wrong; Besides, they have put too high a price on harmony; we can't aEorcI. to pay so much for admission, And therefore X hasten to return my dcket, (2*245)

According to Ivan, the traditional theological response (the one emanating h m the "they" above)-attempting to reconcile the apparent mntradiction bemeen the perfection of God and the afRiction of human beings by means of the doctrine of divine providence-too readily abandons any truthhl witness to the facts as they are, aUing p o d evil and evil good, He therefore rejects tradifianal theodiq in the name of intellectual honesty and compassionate Xove for suffer-

ing humanity. This Ivan-l&e "metaphysial rebeDionWis revealed in Dostoevsws art as the animating source of the modern project of bringing heaven down to earth." Modern progressivism shares the tradition& biblical hope for the final overcoming of evil by goad; but on moral gmunds it rehses any longer to await obedienth the transcendent o-vercaming promised in the doctrine of divine providence. Instead it envisages the process of earthly history, hastened by human &&ion,as the sphere of this overmming. As WarZ Uwith has put it: "The isreligion of progress is still a sort of religion, derived from the Christian faith in a hture goal, though substituting an indefinite and immanent esc.ha;ton for a definite and transcendent one,""" This irreligiouslreligious notion of humanity bringing good out of evil through its o m progressive shaping of history is the binding idea that, in the words of krsilov in me Adolescent, ""underlies all contemporary civilizationeq7 We would do well to remind ourselves at this paint that the author of "The Grand Inquisitor" is the same Ivan Karamazov whose powerhl repudiation of fai& in divine pmvidence immediately plrecedes the recitation of his pmse poem (poernka] about the Inquisitor. In this mntext, it would be natural to identie the Inquisitor as a man ahead of his time, who is involved in the shaping of history for the sake of actualizing heaven on earth. Yet, again, we find ourselves up against his apparently pemerse anticipation of a heaven on earth that will be a t-yranny rather than the liberal-socialist society of freedom and equality. envisaged by Wegel, Marx3and the other modern proponents of a progressiw, human shaping of history. Dostoevsky"s general categarimtion of Ivan as a "present-&y socialist" adds to readers+erplexitye m y vvcluld Ivan, immediately bllowing his enucleation of the moral impulse inspiring the modern shift from fairh in pmvidence to faith in progess, choose a character like the Inquisitor as his pmphet of the hture? Perhaps the sllnswer lies in the fact &at Ivan" metaphysical rebellion might in the end justiEy the repudiation of modern progressivism no less than Chrisbn providentialism. This possibiliv is underlined particularly.by the strong resemblance b e ~ e e nIvanti return of his "ticket of admission" ta the hture harmony and Vissarion BeXjrzsky's famous retort to Hegel (well-known to Dostoevsky): No thank you, Egor kdorycbr [Hegel],with ajl due raped to your ghilomphical cap; let me i n h m you . . .that if I did succeed in reaching the top of your evolution ladder, f muld &man4 even there an account:&ornyou of all the vicths of the conditions of history , , , of accident, sugmtition, the Inquisition , , , etc., etc.,: ohewise f will &row myself heaaong from the top mng . , , , Disharmony is said to be a condi.tiom of harmony: that may be very profitable and pleasmt for megdomaniacs, but certaidy not for those whose fat:= are destined to apress the idea of disharmonyfs

If Xvan is to refuse the trmscendent escitzaton out of love of humanity; then must he not refuse the immanent eschaton for the same reason? In the space of confliaing ideas opened up by Dostoevsws art, no perspective stands unopposed, In the case of Ivan, both the maral justification of modern progressivism and its most fatal inadequacies are revealed through the same character, Ivan" rebellious challenge to the promise of Euture barmany>even an immanent secular one, should be seen in the light of objections to the idea of progress voiced by oher characters throughout Dostoevsk;y"swork. Perhaps the most ob&ous of these objechons is that of the underground-man, who in response to the notion of the "reasonableness" of the historical process, simply appeals to the facts accessible to common sense: Just take a look at the history of mankind-and what do you see?Majesp? Perhaps even majesLy . . . .Varieq? Perhaps even vaclv; one need only collect the ceremonial uniforms, both military and civilian, of at1 nations, of all ages. . . and if you include the uniforms of the civil service then you really wiU get lost . . . .Monotoq? Well, perhaps monomny too: fighting and Gghting, they are fighting now, they fought behre, and they fought a&er-you" agree this is ajrady too monotonous. h short, anphi~lgc m be said about world history . , . .The only thing that cannot be said is that it's rational. Y"ou2dchoke on the first word.19

As for the notion of "progress," again, according to the underground-man, the facts speak loudliy to the contrary.: 2 n d what is it in us that is mellowed by civilization? All it does, I'd say, is to develop in man a capacity. to feel a greater variAnd nohing, absolutely nothing else, . . .Civ2ization has made ety of sen~tions, man, if not always more bloodthirsty, at least more viciously, more horribly bloodthirstf20 Xvads painful cataloping of the cruelties &at modern, civilized human beings remain capable of inflicting upon one another constitutes a graphic daboration of the underground-man" observation. The more sophisticated philosophies of htstov are, of course, cognizant of such. ""ifacts"; but one suspects that the underground-man. would not be swayed by references, for instance, ta Hegel's emphasis on the role of negation in histarial development, For where Hegel sees the necessary labor of the dialectic, the underground-man sees the chronk perversity of buman nature-a perversiq that casts doubt upon the whole notion of a new order of keedom, equality, and brotherhood.2" "Chronic perversity" or the "labor of the dialectic": These are fv~odifferent readings of the negative facts of history; Yet even if the latter reading were to be granted, it would stiU face, in DostoevskyJsart, extremely powerhl objections, Perhaps most damaging is the obsematisn that the idea of progress is inherently contradictory. The underground-man notes that according to the modern phi-

losophy of history. the final order of good, free, and happy human beings is the inevikble product of historical necessity; people will find themselves "obliged to do good," Yet, he asks, in the absence of a free, person& choice, can one speak of genuine moral goodness?z2 This di6culty can perhaps be mitigated by understanding "goodness" as a kind of indiEerent peaceableness (niceness) brought about through social adjustment rather than the outcome sf what Kant called a "morally good disposition." Such a ""lovvering of the si@ts" in regard to human goodness would certain@ be in keeping with the tendency of liberal progressivism to build its edifice on the reliable human deskes, whether for comfor~ble self-preservation (Locke) or for recognition (Hegel). And insofar as keedom itself a n be understood merely as the absence of external obs~clesto the fulfiUment of such natural desires, it might be possible to mitigate, to some extent, the embarrassing contradictoriness of the notion that people can be brced to become free by some sort sf automatic mechanism called ""fistory;"%sst acute, however, is the contradiction bemeen the idea of progress and the idea of personal happiness, and it is not at aX1 clear how this contradiaion can be sofrened by some lowering of expectations in defining ""happiness." If final happiness-in Fukuyama's language, the complete satisfaction of human beings in their essential humaniv (however this satisfaction is precisely understood) at some future point in history; then whait.becomes of those individuals now, and throughout history.>who by sheer bad luck do not happen to live at the right moment? To quote Ivan: "h it possible that I've suffered so that 1 . . .should be manure br someone's hture harmony?" (244) There does not appear to be much consolation in the thought that on& "sfe, viewed from the perspective sf his tor.)^, can be regarded as fertilizer for the happiness of others, Even allowing that some individuals might rise above the self-centered concern with personal satsfactlion to an altruistic concern with the happiness of humanity in general, there remains a final inadequacy in the idea of progress. This is the fact of finitude; not so much one" own death, which is perhaps no longer of primary concern, but the inevitable dea& of hose living d t h i n the bture order) and moreover>the inevitable death of that order itself as part of a universe subject to the law of entropy: Hence the question posed by Arhdy Dolgorzlksv in The AcloEescent: " m y must I inevitably love my neighbor s r your fixture humanity, which 1%never see, which I'll never know, and which will eventually also disintegate without leaving a trace . . .when the earth will turn into an icy rock and float in airless space amidst an infini-t-enumber of other such icy rocks?. . .my must f behave so nobly when nothing is going to last more than a moment?"z3 All of the above objections to the doctrine of progress focus on the problem of ensuring the consent of Lfrose who are asked to serw as raw materid for the htwre edifice, But the perspective can also be reversed to focus on those fortunate

enough to inhabit that edifice, Would they be able to accept a hqpiness based on the suRering of so many? Quld a just person consent to a hqpiness founded on the innocent tears of even one " t i y creaturem"?his is Ivan's question: "Answer me: imagine that you pusself are building the edifice of human c3estiny with the object of makng people happy in the finale . . . but for that you must inevitably and unavoidably torture just one tiny creature . . . and raise your edifice on the you agree to be the architect on such foundation of her unrequited tear-would conditions?' ((245) Is one's own happiness possible if it presupposes the suffering of others (or even another)? This question takes US to the heart of Dostoevsws moral concern; indeed, here we can assert 6thout hesitation that character and author are at one. Dostoevsky" art here and elsewhere shows itself ifs the poetic exgression-perhaps unparalleled4f Kant7ssupreme maral principle that every person must be treated as an end, never merely as a means.24 Up ta this point, 1van7schallenge to liberal progressivism comes from within liberalism itself.25 Kant, too, defended the infinite value of the indhidual, though this did not stop him from asking whether it might be possible to write a Universal History from a: cosmopolitan point of &ew; and Hetfel, who attempted to do just that, was nonetheless sensitive to the way in which any interpretation of history as a foward movement might appear caflously indifferent to the trampling of many an innocent ""flwer" along the w51y.25 The horror of the Holocaust is enough to make even Fukuyama ""pause and contemplate" before affirming that2neverthdess, the ""locomotive of Hktory" is still on track toward its goal. Yet, instances of hesitation arising from within liberal progressivism tend to be overmme by faith in the ultimate future goal, as the crushing of innocent Rovvers is given at least some redemptive meaning by reference to the future universal flowering. The logic of a: progresskist interpretation of history, even a: sensitive one, inevi&bly entails the tendencry to sanaion force, since force is the principal mechanism of historical change. At the same time, the very ideal of the future goal counters this tendency, functioning as a moral restraint on human actions in the present, Although madern progressivism repudiates the notion of a moral absolute beyond space and time, it retains the notion of a moral absolute within history. This moral concern can be the bad conscience of madernity, causing it to pause in its f o m r d movement, and at the same time the necessary good conscience, sustaining and renewkg the advance toward freedom, equality, and happiness for all, We detect a similar ambiguiq in Ivan, who rejects the Eur-~reharmony out of compassion for the suEering of "one tiny creature: and at the same time confesses his thirst to see with his own ey.es the hind lie down with the lion, and the murdered man rise up and embrace his murderer f 244).

However, what if it is no longer possible to befieve in the future goal that gives meaning and justification to the historical process? This question a n have an empirical sense, expressing doubt that the events of history. really do indicate movement toward a global order of freedam and equality Skepticism about the realinbility of the goal can and does generate much debate even among pragressivisb. 3%e same question can be posed in a far mare radical manner: Even fbisgory is now moving inexorably toward a global order of freedom and equdity, is this desirable? Will this fully satise the most fundamental human longing? Would it redly sign* the fulfillment of our essential humanity? Or would it still be possible to conceive of a world order that is substantiaDy different from, and b e ~ e than, r that conceived of by liberal-socialist progressivism? "The Grand Inquisitor" is Ivan" response ta this more radial set of questions. Ra&er than representing a readionary throwback, a ""disease of the transition: this response can be understood as a hrther advance into the logic of modern thought, One might see it as a Nietzschean correction of Hegel, In historicist progessivism, the fundamental principles of human thought and action are interpreted as successive worldview determined by the historical milieu. Vet when the belief that this succession has a final goal wakens and disappears, only a radical historical relativism remains. Humanity. is left face to face, in Nietzscfiek ironic phrase, with only "the finality of becoming." Nietzscfie made philosophically explicit what was already hplicit in modern historicism: f f there is no permanent truth transcending historical process, then there is finally no stable basis for concepts such as good and evil, or justice and injustice, Liberal progressivism was mare than willing to employ the weapon of historial relativism against the dogmas and certainties of the past Nietzsche turns the same tveapon against the cherished values of liberalism itself. As Fukuyama acknowledges: "Relativism is not a weapon that can be aimed seledively at the enemies one chooses . . . . ff nothing a n be true absolutely.>then cherisfied principles like human equality have ta go by the wayside as we17."27 Nietzsche" attack on the liberal principle of equality is based on something mare than the logic of relativism, since he is willing to exempt certain privileged ""ruthsW-for instance, that life is will to powa-hm this logic. Zieause logial ce~at'ntyconcerning the absolute truth of any principle is impossible according to PJietzsche, the scrupuious thinker should at least strive b r an understanding of In regard to the the principle sufficient to wrrant its a&rmation or reje~tion.2~ principle of human equaliv, even its proponents have acknowledged the difficulty posed by the empirical evidence, which tends to show that nature has bestowed its gifts unequally The principle of equalitry becomes even more doubtful when one understands its genedogical origins; it is readily explicable in terms of all-taa-human mativations-especially the resentment of the w e d toward those

more generously endowed by nature-that have led people to invent and embrace it. Nietzsche would insist that even if history. could be interpreted as a movement toward a global order of human equality, this order is not desiriiible, for it would not hlfill the mast hndamenbl human longing. Qr to put it more precisely, it would satisEy only the weak-those who ask nothing more from life &an comfort and entertainment as well as their modest share of recognition, The end of history envisaged by liberal pmgressivism is, for Mie~sche,the triumph of the "last man,""the lowest common denominator of human possibility. To quote from Thus S p o k Zarathusm: ""at is love? m a t is creation?What is longng? m a t is a s ~ rthus ? ~asks the last man, and he blinks. The ear& has become small, and on it hops the last man, who makes evemhing small , . . .'W have invented bappiness: say the last men, and they blink, They have left the regions where it was hard to live, for one needs warmth . . . . No shepherd and one herd! Everybody wants the same, everybody is &e same: whoever feels diEerent goes volunt-;lrily into a madhouse."Zg An eAstence devoted to "rational consumption" will not, howevem; satsfi the deepest lon@ng of the stronger or more spirikd, who demand more from lik and from themselves. Even in the absence of nobler ideas by which to live and die, they will find ways to express their will to power, The domination of the ""last mannat the end of history will thus be put in vestion by the "nih&stsP who will pursue power for its own sake, even to the point of precipitating immensely destructive wars and tyrannies, for they vvclultc3 rather "will natbzingmes than not wil1."30 Nietzsche does not a e r m as an end unto itself the destructive nihilism he envisages, but he is tvilling to aErm it as a means of ensuring that liberal dernocratic equality will not constitute the end of history, that the finture will rernah a possibilip open to a higher &sion of human life, Dostoevsws prophetic significance for our time was defined by Albert Camus as follows: '? have loved Dostoevsb as the one who most profoundly lived and expressed our historical desliny. For me, Dostoevsb is, above all, the writer who, well before Nietzsche, knew how to discern contemporary nihilism, to define it, to predict its monstrous consequences, and ta attempt to point out the way of salvation from it.2'31 Dostoevsky might not have used the word nihilism in precisely the same way as PJietzsche and Camus-in nineteenth-century Russia it the phenomenon he depicted had a particular, relatively limited usage"-but was the same, k b r e Nietzsche's annunciation of the death of God, Das&evsk;y in Russia had already. explored some of the consequences of the awareness that life is without any final meaning, that d the gads, all the moral ends-whether beyond history or thin the historical future-to which human beings have devoted themselves are human inventions. Stavrogia, in I)emons, for whom the dis-

tinction b e ~ e e ngood and evil is "just a prejudice,""who perceives no difference in beauty b e ~ e e n""sme valugtuous and brutish act, and any great deed, even the sacrifice of life for the good of humanity;""is perhaps the most compelling result of Dostoevsky" exploration of nihilism on the level af the individua1.33 However, be knew also that the nihilist insight, once suEciently widespread, would have profound implications also for society as a whole. Dasmevsky discerned on the horizon a plrrsbund social crisis precipitated by the loss of faith in the doctrine of progess, which had been the guiding idea of modern it^ The modern world is confronted by him with this Eundamental question: m a t will become of human saciev in the absence of any shared idea of the meaning of existence? Responses to this question expressed in his work bear a notablie resemblance ta Nietzsche" pmphecies. There is, for ins~nce,the possibiliq that many modern people will simply cling to a debased version of the final human. happiness promised in the idea of progress. hbedev, in n e Idiot, foresees a universal decline into ""flbbinessP the inevibble consequence of an exclusive vision of the trivialization of human concern with material consumption.3"his lik through a triumphant materialism finds several echoes throughout Dostaevsk;yfswriting. Yet kbedeJs evocation of Eutut.e materialism is closef;y associated with a story &out cannibalism, which hints at anather passibility: that of the complete disintegration of social. life-portrayed, for instance, in Raskolnikov's chilling dream in the epiliogue ta Crime and hnbhmerzt, in which human beings who could no longer "agree on what to regard as evil, what as good. . .killed each other in some sort af meaningless spiteP3S The boundless trivializatian of human life andlar its wholesale destruction: hese remain possibilities-"".tial balloons" launched by Dostomky's art36-rather than certainties, They signi* attempts to give some shape to what Dostowsk;), speaking in his own name in A WriiterWXars called the "enormous upheavals" ( o p m n y e perevoroty) on the horizon of modern civilimtion.37 Yet another possibiliv is that such ""enormous upheavals" will drive a desperate humanity toward the find Eulfillment envisaged by the Inquisitor: "Reedom, free reason, and science will lead them into such a maze . . .that some of them, unruly and ferocious, will exterminate themselves; others, unruly but feeble, will exterminate each ather; and the remaining third, feeble and wretched, will crawl to our feet and cry out to us: Yes, you weire right . . .and we are coming back to you-save us kom ourselves3'""5f)]. The "unruly" who demand more of life than rational consumption might in their despair, as the Inquisitor anticipates, "exterminate themse1vesw";ut some might seek politial power. Mre are told that Ivan might choose ta ""sash the cup on the floor,""or out of compassion for the weak, he might join those who are completing the new Tower of Xl;rbd[54).Although there is no inherent canjunc-

tion b e ~ e e nnihasm and political power, it is certainly one possibitity, Is there any reason to befieve that this possibiliq has been ehauskd by the events of the mentie& century? Hitler and Stalin were indeed "unruly and ferocious,""but it is daubttisl that they took ta completion in reality. the possibility imaginatively embodied by Dastoevsky in the Inquisiwr. Their regimes lacked, for instance, a central feature af the Inquisitor" tyranny-its philanthropic nature, The old Inquisitor has ""lved mankind all his life," just as his creator, Ivan, loves humaniv to the point of returnkg his ticket to the Euture harmony. Perhaps the closest historical approximation to the philanthropic tyranny prophesied in "The Grand Inquisitor" was that achieved in East Germany during the era of the Wall (1961 to 1989),when Erich Mielke was in charge of the M h istry for State Securiv (the Stasi). Out of humani~rianlove, the Inquisitor and his kllow rulers purport to &ke possession of people's freedam, giving t h m in exchange "miracle, mystery, and authoritf (a quasi-religous s)rstem af meaning) and ""bead" (material combrt). The East Germans were given Marxist ideolog-y and cheap food, free medial care, and apartments. In the Stadtmuseum of Dresden (the German city where Dos&evsk;y lived for a year3while writing Demons) hang protest banners used in the mass demonstrations of October 1989, which precipitated the opening of the Berlin Wll in November. One of these banners reads:

"Ich liebe euch doch alle [I love you all] ." Mielke Was sagt der Gross Inquisitor! [What the Grand Inquisitor says!] If DostoevskyJs""Grand Inquisitor" does remain prophetic, that is because it conjoins polhical power with a nihifism that has exchanged its ""ferocious" aspect for a humanitarian face. This compds us to question our usual conception of what a vranny is, to entertitin the possibiIiq sf a tyranny incognito, Indeed, any image sf the tyrant-whether Hitler, Stalin, Mielke, s r the Inquisitor bimsdf-might be far taa literal, when the actual danger is the subtle vranny that never appears to be such-the tFanny of btaireaucracies and corporations gradually becoming oblivious of human equdity (as evidenced, for instance, by their questioning the equal value of eveTcy human life in the name of "quality of life"'). It was Mietzsche3 argument against the liberal principle of equality that human beings are so widenfly unequal in qualiq that to some of them less is due; and if many still h e s i ~ t ebefore this condusion, that is merely testimony to the long shadow still cast by the archaic Christian worlC3lriew. AS he puts it in Thus Spake Zarat-fiustra:

'"We are all equal.-Man is but man, before God-we are all equal,%efore God! But now this God has diedeY'3B It was Dostoevsky's insight that the "present day" liberal or socialist (Ivan) could be the Inquisitor af tornorrow$that progressivism harbors wihin itself its undermining by nihilism, that Hegel vvcluld be bllowed by Nietzsche. It was his insight that human equaliv could not be sustained by the very l;iberalism that trumpets it with such fanfare, because its overt basis is reason alone, and this finally provides more arguments for inequabty than for equabty. Dostoevse, unlike Mietzsche, took no satisfaction from this insi&t. His critique of moderniv did not include a rejeaion of the principle of equality but a warning as to its wlnerabiEty in the face of the fundamental question: m a t is it about human beings that makes equal justice their due? The inability of liberal progressivism comincingly to answer this question gives rise to the danger that the town where Fukuyamds wagons eventually arrive will be the smooth, humanitarian tyranny. of which Dostoevsky warns in "The Grand Inquisitorem39

Speaking for Christ: The Elder Zosima's Account of Meaning in History Prophetic warning presupposes the human power to decide between alternatives. But what viable alternative to the Inquisitors vision does Dostoevsky offer modern people? Within ""The Grand Inquisitor" itself this alternatjrve is embodied in the s3ent fiwre af Christ, with all that this portends. Dostoevsky might well have intended access to the meaning of this silent figure to depend ulrimately on the condition of the reader's heart; even the Inquisitor, after experiencing the prisoner" kiss of forgiving love, decides to refease him, Nevertheless, the old man does not chmge his mind: "The kiss burns in his heart, but [he] holds to his former ided"541. A change of heart is necessary; but it is not su6cient by itself, in the absence of an alternative"idea." h order to get sight of this alternative Christian idea, we must descend from the silent Christ to the Russian monk asirna, Just as the Grand Inquisitor is Ivan Karamazov" prophetic creation, so is Zosirna, in a sense, the prophetic creatlion of Alpsha bramazov, As the narrator informs us, the life and teachings of Zosima (constituting book 6 of the novel, "The Russian Monk,""following immediately after book 5, which contahxls "RebeDionmand "The Grand Inquisitorm")re based on a manuscript by Alyosha, who "wrote it itll down from memory some time afier the dder" deaW (286). "The Russian i?r/fonkythen, represents Alyosha" written response to Ivan" 'Grand fnquisitor,""Xt is also Dostaevsws apologia b r the silent Christ, It might be that

Dostoevsky invested all of his more memorable characters with some facet of himself; however, Zasima is unique in his explicit designation as spokesman for the author" most "cherished"" ideas. In him we find embodied the religious vision of the mature Dastoevskyt though expressed in "another lanpage and anather form? as demanded by. the artistic presentation of a Russian monk.40 Why did Dostsevsky choose a Russian monk for the breaking of Christ" silence in the face of the Inquisitor? The ansurer to this question might appear obvious @yen the appropriate symmetry between the fv~oold men, both of whom play a leadership role in their respective churches, Roman Catholic and Russian Orthodox. Yet we already h o w that the obvious impression is misleading in the case of the Inquisitor, whose mind is closer to modern historicism and nihilism The question-who precisely is Zosima?-is likewise than to medieval theolof~y; both more complicated and more significant than it might at first appear. Let us consider, first, the common temptation to identify- Zosima as the Russian Qrthodox response to the Roman Catholic Inquisitor. This sugge";Zsthe equation: Roman Catholicism, the West, rationalism, and atheism on one side; and Orthodov, Russia, and fa&h on the other side-wi& Dostoevs@, of course, condemning the former and defending the latter. This ofi-cited equation has the merit of simplicity, but it diverts us from a fuuer understanding of Dostoevsky, who in his writings dmost always chooses the ambiguous and paradoxical over the simple and straightforward. To note one example of the sort of nuance this equation ignores: Zssima is on one occasion called "Pakr Seraphicus," a name more striking in the original Russian text because of the contrast between. the Roman letters in which it appears and the surrounding CyriIlic script. It is also striking because this was the name sometimes given to St. Francis of Assisi, a Western spirituaf figure, with whom Zosima seems to have more in common than with many Russian Orthodox saints. In order to understand Zasirna properly, we must be prepared to make more careful distinctions than the common equation permits. Dostaevsky goes out of his way to assist his readers by deliberately situating Zosirna wi&in a particular religio-historical milieu-that of the sisartsy ("elders" oar "spiritual direaors") of nineteenth-century Russian Orthodox monasticism. In an earXy chapter deseribing this milieu, the narrator oEers this definition of elder: An elder is one who takes your soul, your wiU into his soul arael into his wiU. Having chosen an elder, you renounce your will and give it to him under total obedi-

ence and with total self-renundation,rat man who dooms hhself ta this trial, this terrible schoaf of life, does so voluntaray, in the hope that a&erthe long trial he will achime self-conquest,self-mastery to such a degree that he will, finally, through a whofie life's obedience, again to perfea f~edom-th;re is, freedom from himself-

and avoid the Iot of those who live their whole lives without finding themelves in thernse1v:es. (27-28)

3%e emphasis in this definition an practice rather than theory reflects the view% for ins.t;;lnce,of a thirteen&-century Eastern theologian, Gregory Palamas, who once said: "To say something about God is not equivalent to meeting with God."M The elder, by precept and example, guides others to experiencing the truth of Christianiv rather than merely conceptuahzing it. Dosmevsky describes the institution of eMers as having e;lr;istedfor more than a thousand years. To be more precise, its origins a n be found in the four& century, in St. Antany, the founder of E m t i a n manasticism; however, as Kallistos W r e has suggested, the model for the institulion eists in the Mew Testament itself, in Paul's relationship with Timothy. In Ware's ((Eastern)view*it is possible to speak af two strands or two forms of apostolic su=ession wi&in the Christian Church. There is the visible succession af the e~lesiasticalhierarchy, the series of bishops associated with metropoljiran centexs such as Rome, Constantinople, and Moscow fiongside this, existing on a charismatic rather than an official level, there is the largely invisible apostolic succession of the spiritual fathers and mothers of each generation associated with remote monasteries in the desert, forests, or mountains, such as Atfios in Greece, the countryside of Assisi in Italy> and Ogtina Pustyn in Russia," Sometimes the hierarchical and the spiritual strands overlap ar coexist with some harmony>but just as ofien they conflict, For instance, asirrza's spiritualiq is jmtaposed with the dogmatic, external piety embodied in his rival, Ferapont, an enemy of the practiw of dders and a heroic keper of fasts, who sees devils eveyhexe. Ferapont is vivid testimony to the fact that Dostowsky did not uncritically affirm the Russian Orthodox tradition; he was aware of its darker side, and in his chapter on eXders it is noted by the narrator that the rigid hierarchical strand eclipsed the spiritud strand throughout most of Russian history, and that the latter had enjoyed a renaissance only within the previous hundred years: [The imstimtian of elders] was re~vediagain in our country at the end of the last century by one of the great as~etics(as he is hewn), P a k VelicMovsb, ~ and his disciples, but wen to this day*after d m o a a ktundwd years, it mists in rather fetv monasleries, and has somethes been: subjected a h o s t to persecution as an unheard-of innovation in. Russia. The inslitution Rourished especially in one celebrated hermitage, Kozdskaya-Optha. (27)

Dostaevsky hirnseE visited the Optina monastery and its dder, Father h v r a s y ; while in the planning stages of The Brothers Karamaz~lt,

To sum up, then: Zosirna is a Russian Orthodox monk, but more imporbntly, he embodies a spiritual practice that predates the schism b e ~ e e nWestern and Eastern Christianiv. The primary difference b e ~ e e nhim and the Inquisitor is not identical with the divide bemeen Roman Catholicism and Russian Qrthodoxy but rather with that bemeen the hierarchical and spiritual strands of Christimity* Zosirna's participation in a spiritual tradition originating in the fourth century-and of course, his own advanced age-might tempt readers into another misrepresentation: that he is an essentially archaic figure. It is important to note that Zosirna is accused by many of his fellow monks of being a modern innovator who does not properly obseme the fasts and does not take the sacrament of confession and penance seriously enough. iMore importantly, Zosima seems to take to heart Fyodor Karamamv" criticism that monks expect to save themselves by shutting themselves up in monasteries, "booing at each other and eating cabbage" (3'7). This monk commands, with all the authority of an elder over his disciple, that Ayosha leave the monastery in order to live in the world "Eke a monk"" (285). Zosirna" spirituality may have ancient roots, but it is explicitly oriented toward engagement with the modern world. In "The Russian M a n y the reader is presented with no systematictheolog): let alone any. point-by-point, Euclidean response to Ivan-Inquisitor.43 Dostoevsky presents, instead, an artistic""form of life" bdfing forth an alternative way of seeing and responding to the world,4"his world, for both asinna and Ivan, is the Indeed, Zosima would hardly same one in which innocent human beings SUE~XII constitute a serious response to Ivan were we to klieve that as a monk cloistered away from the world, he is inevitably less aware of the extent to which it is soatdeed through, "kom crust to mre,"l with human tears. A areful reading of the novel leaves no reaon to doubt that Zosima is acutely aware of human suffering-an awareness, moreover, based on his own experience in the world and on many years of receiving the confessions of others, whereas the menty-four-year-old Ivan bases his argument on cases he has read about in the newspapers, Ivan-Inquisitor" compassion h r human suEering, as we have seen, justifies his questioning of the principles of &eediom and equality; insofar as these principles are obstacles to whatever measure of happiness is possible for such ""unfinished, trial creatures created in mockery"[53]. Zosima, too, expresses fundamental doubts about human freedom and equaliv in the modern era. He argues that the liberal notion of freedom as the right of the individual to salt,isEy herlhis desires, with only the minimum restraint necessary to allow others to do the same, has eventuated in the competitive materialism that pemades modern social life, The modern self has, as he puts it, condemned itself to the "wanny of material things and habits.""Modern people have "sugeeditrd in amassing more and more things,

but have less and less joy" "(31, In this c1har-gof all-consuming materialism, the notion of equality a n be little more than an expression of env)r and resentment: ""But what of this right ta increase one3 needs? For the rich, isotalcion and spiritual suicide; for the poor, e n v and murdesr, for they. have been given rights, but have not yet been shown any. way of satisfiing their needs" (313). The Russian monrs observations might seem close to a Marxist critique of the merely formal equaEty of capitalist liberalism-except that for Zosirna;, the socialist insistence on subs~ntiveequality remains entrely tvithin the materialist interpretation of the human self, which, pemades modern society. "Feed them first, then ask virtue of them!"-thus the Inquisitor sums up the actual meaning of modern freedom and equality, He and Zosirna are at one in their argument that a materialist conception of human happiness is inmmpatible with keedom and equality. Says the Inquisibr: "They will finally understand that fieediom and earthly b r e d in p l e n ~for everpne are inconceivable together, b r never, never will they be able to share among themse1vesm[45].These are %sima7s echoing words: "They [the rich] live only for mutual env, for p1easut.e-seeking and selfdisplay . . .while the poor, so far, simply drown their unsatisfied needs and envy in drink, But soon they wiB get drunk on blood instead of wine" "(314). Unlike the Inquisitor, however, Zosima does not reject the principles of freedom and equality, Indeed, he defends them vehemently; his critical observations about liberal-socialist materialism preface an appeal ta a different thinking about &eedom and equality; a thinkng that aarms the higher, spiritual dimension of human. being. The self of modern liberalism, as a social and narrative canstruction out of the raw materids of desire and will, can ultimately find its satisfadion only in terms of these raw materials, in the "tyranny of material things and habits: According to Zosima, only the redity of the higher self makes genuine h e d o m possible, Human freedom, as he understands it, is the reverse innap of modern mat-grialism: Ra&er than an aggrandkement of the self, it is a freedom Pom the self, The way ta Eulfillment for human beings is not through the acquisition of things but through an ascesis that seeks to find the self within the selt ""Obedience, fasting, and prayer are laughed at, yet they alone constitute the way ta real and true freedom: I cut away my superfluous and unnecessary needs, through obedience I humble and chasten my vain and proud will, and thereby> with Godfs help, attain freedom of spirit, and with that, spiritual rejoicing!" (314) Zosima certainly raises the sights for human beings, For, atthough he is sgeaking particularly of the monk, he also asserts clearly that anyone can be open to such self-discovery, and that no immanent natural gift of intellea or talent is required, It is by virtue of this spiritud possibility that e v q human being is owed respect: "Equality is only in . . . spiritual dignit-y" "(316). For Zosirna, the principle of equality derives its legitimacy and meaning from the eternal destiny of

each person. But does it deriw therefrom any force in regard to actual human life-and especidly human suffering-in this world? Does Zosirnds rethinking of human equality. on Christian foundations really constitute an alternative to the Inquisitor's rejection of equality out of compassion b r human suEering? It should be kept in mind that the Inquisitor has already charged the silent Christ with demanding too much of humanity; and it might be a r p e d that Zosima's appeal to the transcendent destiny of human beings likewise raises the sights so high as to be inapplicable to life in this world. This inapplicability would be ~ o h l d It: demands too much in its asceticism and too littie in its tendency to become a doctrine of consolation that discourages construaive action, If the genuine freedom and equality envisaged by Z o s h a are to find fixlfillment only in a "higher, heavenly" world (320), then it would seem that we are presented in this Russian monk merely-with an appeal to an othervvclrldly doctrine of providence. asinna has &equentlybeen read in this manner, especially by those who und e r s ~ n dDostoevsky to be opposing bads metaphyskal rebellion with an appeal to a doctrinaire Christianity. Given this reading, it is little wonder that the monk can seem an ""itokrable old bore" "beside the impassioned young rebe1.45 This, however, is a misreading that fails to do justice to Dostoevsky as an artist or a thinker, Because it is contradicted by the text itself, one can only surmise that it is a waful misreading according to some preconceived notion of what Christianiv must'^ "ve to say* In the face of human suffering, Zosima does indeed appeal to the mystery of the providential urnacting of eternal &U&,)) especidly as revealed in the book of Job (292). Vet in response to Ivads demand for justia on earth, he does not stop at reaarming the mytery of eternal justice; instead, he invokes an alternatk vision of justice on earth-ne founded not on Euclidean reason alone but on Christ. This Russian monk ins is^ repeatedly that ""life is paradise,""&at we need only want to understand, and "it till come at once in all its beau~'"298). m a t ever &e precise meaning of this insistence, it testifies against any easy dismissal of %sima% orientation as "otheworldly" ClearXyshis raising of the sights concerning the principks of fieedorn and equality.does not preclude for him their enactment in the wrtd. His concern with engaging the world is everyhere evident, in his words and his actions, kern his stricture against ch2d labor (315) to his commission to fiyosha to live as a monk in the world (285).Mthough freedom and equality in Zosimds Christian understanding might find their initial redbation in the monastic c o m m ~ n i vhe~ does not envisage this community as a spiritual dite separate from a hopelessly corrupt world; monasticism is to hnction, rather, g the latter" trmsformation. as a leavening force within the world, w o r ~ n toward In response, however, to those who work for a transbrmation of the political or

socioeconomic structures, Zosirna points to a different sort of transformation: ""Iorder to make the world anew, people themselws must turn onto a different path psy-chically. Un.tit one has indeed become the brother of all, there will be no brotherhood" "f30.a Those who vvcluld refashion the world must first begin with themselves. This starting with oneself signifies the first step in what Dastoevsky himself once termed his ""-lheoryof practical Christianityy2'47In its engagement with the world, a upractical" Christianity can employ ""ipractical" means-obedience, fasting, and prayr, for instance-because these can fos?ter the sort of psychic transformation needed if people are going to be capable of forming communities in which they actuaHy feel and live according to the idea that ""eeryone is redly responsible for everyone" or that "each of us is gui1t"y before everyone and for everyone" "(298). In a world given over to external technique, Dostoevsky"~practical Christianity can appear highly uncertain in its results. A genuinely transfermative movement of the heart is indeed a chancy and mysterious thing (as few have appreciated better than Dostoevsky himself); but if such an emphasis is to be considered "otheworldly~then self-knowledge and personal responsibility must be acmunted of Xiale imporlttnce in this tvorld. With this emphasis on personal responsibaiq in the sewice of freedom and equality, we are faced with a feature of asinnds teaching that is too often overlooked-his willingness to use the language of liberal thought, The Russian monk can at times sound remarkably like a modern Western progressive. 3%is is, in part, a matter of rhetorical stratew*One aim of Dastoevsws practical Christianiq was to persuade; and he knew well that most of bis readers, especially the young, were attracted by the daims of liberal-socialist progressivism, He was willing to invite these readers to consider the possibility-albeit a strange one at first encounter-that the freedom and equality they sought was really to be found in the vision of the Russian monk. Yet Dostoevsws use of secular progressiviril:language and his evocation of its purer aspirations are more than stratagems, Dostoevsk-y took no satisfaaion from his prophetic insigkrt that human equality was mlnerable to being undermined within the very bosom of the secular progressivism that promated it in the modern world. Against the common tendency ta categorize him as a conservative in social and political matters, it must be emphasized that his critique of modernify was not aimed simply at the rejection of liberal progressivism but at its redemption. This aim is evident in one of the most memorable of all Dostoevsk;yfs cbaracters, Stepan Trofimovich Ver&ovensh> of Demons. Stegan Trofimovich begins the novel as little more than a aricature of the nineteen&-century Russian liberal progressive." He is complacently, even naively>satisfied as to his enlightened superiority to the haditions and convictions of the past, especially; of course, ta

those of refigion; Christianit-y, for ins~nce,"has never understood woman." AIthough he rejects historical Christianity, he is somewhat open to the idea of God, though only (in flegelian fashion) as a ""'being who is conscious of himseE in me."49 Although his self-absorption is virtually total, it does leave room for some devotion to the ""geat thought" of a Euture order of human kedionn and equality. Stepan TrofimovicKs awakening to the nihilistic implications (embodied, agpropriatelcy, in his son Peter) of his self-satisfied liberalism is gadual and painful, brat when it occurs, he reveals a beauty of character that surprises the reader (and perhaps the author himself). In the final wards of his "last pi-lgimage,""Stepan reverts to the "Great Thought" &that he has long revered, The capitalked letters in the text reflect his new awareness of this idea's necessary relation to the eternd destiny of human beings; The one cctnstant thought rhat there exists something immeasurably more just and happy &an 1, fills rhe whofie of me wi& immeasurable tenderness and-@ory-oh, wlnower I am, wkatwer I do! Far more: than his own happiness, it is mcm.ss;try for a man to h o w and believe every moment that there: is sommhere a pperkct and peacehl happiness, for evevane and for every*lhhg. . . .If people are: depriwd of surrtbly great, they will not five and will die in despair. The immeasurable e is as necessary for man as the small pfmet be i n h a b i ~. . , .rvly friends, all, all of you: long live the Great Thou&t! The eternat, easurable Thought! For every man, whoever he is, it is necessary to bow dawn befare that which is the Great Thought . . . .I)etrznsha [Peter] . . . Ohl how I wmt to see them all again! They don't know, they don't know that they, too, have in them the same eternal Great Thoufitbt!~~

True to character; Stepan does not relinquish the conceptual language of his liberalism, but his change of heart does lend to that language a more profound (if vawe) resonance, His find achowledgment of the human need for the eternal is emblematic of Dostoevsky"~hope that the movement of secular progressivism into nihilism might be forestalled, to some extent, by encouraging progressivism to recolled its spir"lual origins, But for every Stepan Trofimovich, there are several Pyotr Alexandrovich Miusovs (Miusov is the archetypal, selfsatisfied liberal in n e Brothers Karamaz~vwho remains just that); and more significantly, there is an increasing number of I n n Karamazovs, who do not fiincb before the nihilist possibility. An individual change of heart might be a necessary. first step, but it is a highly uncertain hope for the future of an entire civilization, By itself, this first step of personal transformation would not seem to justify the confident expectation that marh Zosirnds discourse about Christian freedom and equality.:

People laugh and ask: when will the time come, and does it look as if it will ever come? h t f t h i d that with Christ we shall bring about this great deed. h d how rnalny ideas there have been on the earth, in human history, that were unthinkable even ten years earlier, and that w u l d suddenly appear when heir mysterious time had come and sweep over all the earth! So it will be with us as well. (317)

Zosima" faith is not only actively engaged with the tvorld; it anticipates a possible historical hlfillment. Instead of judgng profane history as ultimately unimportant, Zosima appears to envisage it as having a find spiritual goal, which it is capable of containing wihin itself and toward which it is moving. He defines this goal as the transfiguration of socieq into a universal Church: "'It is true: the elder smiled, 'that now Christian society itsdf is not yet reacty; and stands only on seven righteous men; but as they are never wanting, it abides firmly al_lthe same, awaiting its complete transfipration from society as still an almost pagan organimtion, into one universal and sovereign Church, And so be it, so be it, if only at the end of tirne, for this alone is destined to be Eulfilled!"' ((66)The Christian society envisaged by Zosima might be labeled by some a ""-lheocracy"' (the liberal Miusov dismisses the notion as ""arch-tihramontanismJ');but insofar as &at term implies the rule of a priestly order representing God's will*it is a misnomer. Zosima has very little to say about pries^, and what he does say is invariably tinged with criticism, He has even less to say about the sacramental hnctions of the Church. The universal. Church s n earth confidently awaited by a s i m a is not primarily an ecclesiastial and sacramental institution irnaging forth through symbolism and ritual. the Lordship of Christ in a profane world-that is, it is not the Church as it has been and is now It is, rather, a realixd human community in which human behavior and relationships have been transformed by Christian love, in which people actually live according to the idea that "evevone is really responsible for everyone and evewhingm"(320). This community; like &at envisaged by modern progressivism, is one of freedom, equality, and brotherhood-but as understood and achieved s n the basis of Christ rather than reason alone ( 3 18). Vthen we put together Zasima's expectation of a transfigured earthly sociev with his enigmatic assertion that ""Xkis paradise: it might appear that he, no less than the most ardent progresskists, is preaching a futuire heaven on earth. If this is so, then Ivan" use of the Franciscan title Paler Seraphicus to refer to Zosima is richly and ironically suggestive. Many of the followers of St. Francis regarded him, themselves, and the events of their tirne as the Eulfillment of the prophecy of Italian abbot, foacfiim of Fiore, that the third and find age of the ~el.-Eth-century the Holy Spirit was imminent (it would begin in 1260, according to foachim's own calculation), On the basis of insight derived h m the book sf Revelation,

Jaachim conceived of world history as a sequence of three ages or dispensations-those of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit-through which Christian truth is successively reveded, The age of the Spirit was to be the final, Third Redrn, after which history would come to an end. With the advent of this final age, the existing church of clerm and sacraments would be replaced by a church of the Spirit, essentialXy an order of monks in which the mediating role of preaching and sacraments would no longer be required. m e n the Roman Catholic hierarchy suppressed the Franciscm Spirituals in the fourteenth century, Joachim's theo b g of history w s forced undergoun nly to reemerge five centuries later; in secularized form, in modern philosophers of history such as Saint-Simon, ScheDing, and Ilegel.51 It would be ironic if Dostoevsvs acquaintance with the nineteenth-century philosophers of history had influenced unconsciously his =pression af a Christimity. that was intended as a response to their historicism, If Zosimds view af history signifies merely an appeal from modern Jaachism to something very much like the original Joachhic theology of history, then it fails to offer a red atternatlive. Is Dastoevsky a prophetic fipre for our age not only through his insight into the impfiations of the modern historical consciousness but also as an example of how difl-icult, or perhaps impossible, it is to think beyond this consciousness? The obvious affinities b e ~ e e nZosha" bture universal Church on earth and Joachim's final age of the Spirit justify- the posing af the question above, It is not clear, however, that the answer must be affirmative. Alhough it would be inappropriate to seek anphing like a systematic theology of history in Zosimds sayings, his fellow monk, the ""ve~cy learned""Faher Paissy, clarifies an imporant issue: the expectation,which he shares with Zosima, of the future universal Church on earth does not sign* a complete immanentization of the Christian eschatological hope. Paissy; who can be regarded here as Zosimak spokesman, distinguishes b e ~ e e nthe "Gngdom of Heaven" and the Engdam of the Church on earth: "The b g d a m of Heaven, of course, is not of this world, but in heaven, but it is entered in no ather way than through the Church that is founded and established an earth . . . . The Church is indeed a Engdam and appointed to reign, and in the end must undaubtdliy be revealed as a kingdom aver aU the eartY ( 6 1 4 2 ) . To Zosirna, apparently, the unkrsal Church on earth is apparently the ultimate end (both fin& and telos) of human history; brat sub specie atemitatis it is a penultimate end, to be succeeded by the eternal consummation promised in the Mew Te~&ment.The relation b e ~ e e nthe htstorical and the eternd blfillments is expressed by the "mysterious visitor" (who can dso be regarded here as speaEng for Zosirna): "You ask when it will come true, It will come true, but first the paiod of human iisahtion must conclude . . . .There must needs come a term

to &is horrible isolation, and everyone will at once reafize how unnaturally they have separated themselws one from another. Such will be the spirit of the time, and they will be as~nishedthat they sat in darhess for so long, and did not see the light. Then the sign of the Son of Man will appear in the heavens" (303-3-04). Here the realization of the true spirimal commuai.t-yon earth and the end of the world are so dosely associatd as to merge into one eschatologiml hope, And in this regard, note, too, Zosimds conditional phrase: " h d so be it, so be it, f o n k at the end of time," "sima, unlae foachim, does not insist on a temporally enduring age of the Spirit, or millennia1 age, before the ultimate end, There is no hint, moreover, in asirna of the Joachitic notion that Christian truth is unfolded sucassively in the historical process; for Zosirna, the touchstone of meaning and truth is the one single event of Christ. Findy3unlke Joachim, Zosha does not venture down the all-too-bepiling path of prdictive calculation &out the end time: "There is no need to houble oneself with times and seasons, for the mystery of times and seasons is in the wisdom of God" (66). In these important respeds, then, Zosima avcsids the tendency to make truth and good, and their human appropriation, dependent on a scrutable historial. process. Moreover, in these respects, at least, we can answr the question posed earlier in the negative: He (and hence Dostoevsky) does not simply apged from the modern philosophy of history to a theology of history held by the same assumptions. However, another element of %sima7s hope clearly precludes answering the question with an unqualified negati-ve: The view that profane history is to any extent capable of embodying the &eedsm and equality.of the City of God leads naturally to the question of how particular historical nations and events are related to this future embodiment. Zosirna has very little to say about the actud events of world history, but he is emphatic about the crucial role of one historical peaple, the Russians: "This is a God-bearing (Etopnasets) people" "(316). The truth of the universal Christian community is presewed in its puriq within the Russian monastery, and at least implicitly in the attitudes and practices of the Russian pmpXe. m e n the need arises, it will be reveded to the modern wrld: "This star will shine forth h m the East" ( 313). In order to consider more carehlly the import of Zosima"s strange assertion, we must turn to other writings by Dostoevsb% in which he speaks in his own name. In A ttrrit.er2 Diary as well as in his notebooks and correspondence, Dostoevsky expresses more directly the salient elements of Zosirna's iinterpre"tation of history, though in "another form" and within the context of a far more detailed account of European and Russian history. Vasify a n k o v s b has spaken of Dostoevsws development of a. "metaphysics of history;""Ulthough this phrase is probably an overs.t;ltement, Dostoevsws work does wince considerable reflec-

tion on the basic &eoretical principles that ought to govern the interpretation of history. Dostoevsk-y presents hhself as an advocate of the "ideabst" approach to history, arping that those who strive to define the ""lws" or "necessities" determining historical development must examine, above all, the various systems af meaning that have given purpose to the lives af peoples. Civilizations are not founded an the mere need to-as he puts it-""sve one's neck? but always on the basis of ""a great idea.""53This principle of the primacy of religious ideas as the animatling force in the rise and fall of civilbations is applied to actud history in his journalism, and on occasion, in his novels. In his rough notes for a projected (though never published) essay on ""Socialism and Christianiq,""Dostoevsb sketches in broad strokes his oudine of world histov, Notabl): as in "The Grand Inquisitor,""a three-stage schema is posited. 3%e first stage, represented in the primitive communities at the dawn of fiistar~ is characterized by the complete integration of the individual within the unity af the common life, This stage sf unconscious happiness is disrupted by the appearance of individud self-consciousness. The ensuing disharmony b e ~ e e nthe individual and society results in a fundamental unhappiness that has burdened "civilimtion" by Dostoevsky-from its inception to the this second s&ge-alfed present: "Man in this condition feels bad . . . loses the source of living life (zhivaya- ztziznr),doesn" t o w spanQneous sensations and is conscious of everything."% Civilized humanity has striven desperatelyto find a new social harmony, but the intesesb sf society and sf the individual have only become articulated into apposed, apparently. irreconcilable ideas, These apposing ideas af social. unity and individual fieedom have been manifested in the massive and bloody conflicts that have characterized the history of chilization. In the West, for instance, the idea of compulsory social unity animated the Roman Empire and w s then bequeathed to its descendants, Roman (CZa&olicismand socialism, whereas the idea of individual freedom has been expressed in the opposing movements of Protestantism, and later, apitalist liberal and nihilist individualism, For Dostoevsky, the crisis of order in the modern age, which he expected to become increasingly intense, was everyhere characterized by the tension b e ~ e e n individuality. and social unity; s r keedom and equality. The thought and practice sf the modern West appeared utterly unable to discover the way to that reconciliation of the individual and the community imagned biy Dastoevsky as follows: Ewe transposed frfratemi~yinto rational . . .Zanguag, of what then tvould it consist? It would consist of this: each i n d i ~ d u dof , his own acwrd, without my eaernal pressure or thought of profit, would say to society, "M are strong only when united; take d l of me, if you need me . . . , I cede all my rights to you and beg you to dispose of me as you see fit, My greatest joy is t-o sacrifim eveming to yw, with-

out hrsrthg you by so doing. f shall annihilate myself, I shall melt away; if only your brotherhood will last and prosper*"-But the co uniky should answer, "YOU offer t you offclr we have no right to refuse, for you say it would be your greatest joy; but what c m we do, when our coxxstmt concern is for your happiness, Take e v e e i n g &at is ours too. ConstmtXy . . .we shall s t r u ~ l eto increase your person4 freedom and self-klfihent . . . .We are all behind you . . .we watch eternaliliy over yors."55

Dosmevsk;y observes that this sort of social harmony will remain merely a pious dream so Isng as fieedom is understood as a principle of individualiism, of "isolation, of intense self-presemation . . . of seE-determination of the In a cvitalist liberal society in which the personaiiq is intent only on demanding its "fights,""the socialist who wants to promate univ and equaliy must resort to caXculated appeals to self-interest, and fina1Xy2ta force: "The &anticsacidist sets desperately to work on the future fraternity; defining it, calculating its size and weight, enticing you with its advantages, explaining, teaching, telling of the pmfit each st;;tnds to gain . . . .And driven to the final sbge of desperation . . . ends by proclaiming Yiibertd, dgalitd, fia;tenzitd, ou la mnzort;.""6 We have seen how the Xnquisitor would propose &at the contradictory human desires for unity and freedom be resolved in a third and find sage of world history. Dostoevsb>too, looks to a third stage that would supersede the contradictions of historim1 civilimtion, but through a genuine reconciliation rather than an illusory one that undermines the true meaning of both apposing terms. This difference is rdated to their assessments of what Christianity means in world history; According to the Inquisitor, the univ attained in the Roman Empire w s undermined by the new religion, with its idea of personal freedom; but for Dostoevsky, in contrast, Christianllry did not signi* exclusively the idea of freedom but also a new kind of human communion-a "qirituai"" ra&er than ""cmpulsory" one, ainrzing to preserm and enhance the free personaii~in univ. Dostoevsb applied his interpretation of world htstov to the contemporary relationship b e ~ e e nRussia and the West &equentXy and in, detail in A Witer3 Diary He sugestd, for instance, that the intense straggle bemeen France and Germany for European hegemally. in the latter nineteenth century bad ta be understood in terms of the more Eundamental, antithetical ideas of compulsory unity and isolating freedom: Germany" objeaive is one; so it was before, and so it was always. It is her Pratestan~sm-meaning not just the =pression of the Protestilntism that to& shape in tuther's time but her chronic protestantism, her chronic tendency to protestagainst the Roman w r l d . . . ag&nst ever*ing &at was Rome and Roman in its

obje~ive;and then, against eveqhing that was passed on from andent Rome to the new Rome and to all those peoples who took the idea of Rome, . . agahst the heirs of Rome and eveqhing that makes up this legacy.57 Immense nationalist struggles, which, will eventually draw in the AngloAmerican.world, lie in the West" sture. Yet, according to Dostoevsky, even these elemental conflicts are overskradowd in significance by the possibility of a "cofossal revolution" p s e d by the diffusion of socialism throughout the West. He predicts that, following an era of great wars, communist revolution "will surely come and triumph,""though, "afier a bit, it will faU."% The precise configuration of nationd struggle, war, and revolution tends to shift in his various speculations,but his insistence on the decisive role that could be played by Russia does not vary; Just as he tends to associate the idea of compu2sory unity with France-the modern heir ta Rome f bath Imperial and Catholic)-and the idea of individualism with Germany-the heir of Protestantism-so he associates the reconciGrrg Christian idea with the Orthodoq of Russia. The inevitable involvement of Russia in the conflicts of the modern West implied the possibility of a final resolution of the problem of human order. [Dostoevsky)~account of meaning in history comes to its most extreme expression in an article written in 1877 on the Balhn question, which was then agitating the Western powers and Russia: This terrible Eastern Question is \.irtually our entire fate for years to come, 11: contains, as it were, all our goals and, maidy, our only way to move out into the &XIness of history;It contabs as wdl our final collision with Europe and our final uniting with her, but now oa new, powerful, productiw principles. Oh, how is Europe now 'to grasp all the fatehfiul, vital significance the solution of this question has for us .. . , In short .. , sooner or later*Gonstantinopk must be ours, even, if it be only in the next ~nturyf5" Faced with such a proclamation, it is customary for embarrassed interpreters of Dastoevsky to rekr to his xenopbsbic Russian chauvinism as a kind of ideologial virus that overmastered him aU too frequently in A Mrn'termary but that f~rtunatefydid not fatally infect the artistic genius of the novels, This virtually obligatory separation of Dosroevsky the artist from Dostoevsky the political polemicist does not, however, sats*. For there is clearly a relation between the art and the concern with Russia" world-historical mission. Dostaevsky's "Constantinople must be ours" can be seen as a translation into more specific .t-grms of Zosha" 'This [the Russian people] is a God-bearing people." The quick and easy "explanation" according to Dastaevsws prc;.judices, even if justified, precludes

exploration of the more interesting questions that might attend his hope in a Russian spiritual mission ta the modern world. Char~teristica1ly~ the mast significant question along these lines is posed by Dostaevsky himself in his art, at a pivotal moment during a conversation in Demons b e ~ e e nShatov and Stavrogin. First, Sfiatov expounds his interpretation sf history: "Not one nation,""he began, as if reciting Zine by Zine, and at the same time still Zmkhg menacing2y at Sbvrogin, "not one nation has ever set itself up on the piinciples of scieznce and reason; there has nwer been an exiimple of it, uritess perhaps only far a moment, out of foolbhess . , , .Nations are form& and moved by another mling and dominathg force, whose origirn is u h o w n md inexplicable . . . , It is the force of a ceaseless and tireless confirmation of its own being and a denid of deaPkt, The Spirit of life, as Seripmre says, the krivtrs of Xivinli;water: whase running dry is so hreatened in the Apocalypse . . . .The aim . . .of every nation and in every period of its aistence, is solely the seekn,g for God, its own God, entixly its own, and faith in, him as the only tme one. God is the spLhetic permn of the tvhoZe nation, taken from its beginnhg and to its end . . . . It h a sign of the nation's exthction when, there begin to be gods in c on, m e n there are gods in common, they die along with the belief in them and with the nations themselves, The stronger the nation, the more particular its God , , , , But the truth is one, and herefore only one among the nations cm have flte true God, even if the other nadons do have heir particular and great gods. The only "ad-bearingknation is flte Rusdan nation. . .. "

Stavrogin, in response, poses his question: "him& wanted to know: do you yourseff believe in God, or not?" "I bdicllde in Russia, I believe in her Oghodoq , . . I bdicllde in the body of Christ . , .I bdieve that the second coming will take place in Russia . . , I believe. , , ," Shatov babbled freniziedy. "But in God? In God?" "I . . . T will believe in God."@

Alxhough Sharov is portrayed sympathetically elsewhere in the novel, his stammering confusion here dearly reflects the author's dim view of his religious historicism. Since Shatov (from shatkckii, "unsteady-") is unable ta affirm the e~stence of a Gad who trmscends his to^^ and since according to him the Russians are the true Gad-bearing people, then the find measure and demonstration of this truth can only be found in the hture historical destiny of Russia, Unless it can some-

92

DOSTOEVSKY A N D MEANING I N HISTORY

how be shown that peaceful persuasion rather than force is the primary mechanism of historical success, Shatov’s views ultimately imply little more than the worship of sheer force. Given this vision of history, the trampling of “many an innocent flower” would appear both inevitable and justified. Shatov’s religious interpretation of history is therefore open to precisely the same objections expressed in Dostoevsky‘s work to the modem secular doctrine of history as progress. As expressed in Shatov, the notion that the Russian people (or any other people) can be “God-bearing“ amounts merely to a variant of the most extreme historicist reduction of God to a product of cultural development. As the Inquisitor puts it: “In the cause of universal worship, they have destroyed each other with the sword. They have made gods and called upon each other: ‘Abandonyour gods and come and worship ours, otherwise death to you and your gods!”’[46] Shatov is certainly a prophetic instance of the difficulty, not to say impossibility, of escaping the modem historical consciousness, even when one is attempting to repudiate it in the name of Christian faith. To repeat the question raised earlier: Is Dostoevsky himself such an instance? An affirmative answer would seem strange in the face of his clear-sighted analysis, in Shatov, of what we might call Christian historicism. Yet we are also faced with his own “Constantinople must be ours,” written a few years after Demons, and with Zosima’s assertion, identical to Shatov’s, a decade later. One can only speculate as to why D o s t m k y retained this “God-bearing“ assertion, transferring it from the Slavophile nationalist to the Russian monk who embodied his mature religious thought. One could, of course, revert to the explanation that Dostoevsky had a chauvinist tendency. But a more thoughtful explanation might point to the notion of Russia’s “historical mission” as a kind of second-order strategy: Aware of the ultimate shortcomings of the notion, Dostoevsky nevertheless was willing to promote it for the sake of reuniting an increasingly fragmented Russian culture around a higher, Christian ideal-thereby staving off the worst consequences of Western materialism.6’ This might be considered a “second step” in his “practical Christianity,”encouraging individualswho have already worked on themselves to work also toward a more historical-social expression of Christian faith. Such a second step appears a natural one for Dostoevsky; for even a Christianity acutely aware of the dangers of historicism cannot refuse to take history seriously. The classical Christian idea of divine providence implies that history in the fullest sense is, as Oliver O’Donovan puts it, the story of “what has happened in God‘s good providence to the good world which God made.”62 In the New Testament given to Dostoevsky on his way to penal servitude in Siberia (his only permitted reading during four years in a hard-labor camp), “N.B.” appears in the margin, written in D o s t m k f s own hand beside a verse in Christ’s farewell dis-

course to his disciples in the Gospel of John (16:33), of which the last three words, Ya pobedz'l nzir (""fhave overcome the world""),are underlined.63 It would seem that Dostoevsb looked to the h&tory of Russia and the West for hogeh1 signs that the h r h e s s of the modern world might indeed be overcame by ""608s gaad providence.""Xn response ta Ivan7scharge that God does not adually care about human suEerixzg and that the Inquisitor loves humanity mare, bow can the person of fai& rekain from the attempt to vindicate the ways of a good God to the world? The inscrutabijity of divine proviidence causes the prophet of the book of Revdation to weep (5:4), In attempting to discern the traces of God in history m d in contemporary events, Dostoevsb certainly. risked calling good evil and evil good, Yet it must be asked; Was this risk uniquely his, or does it belong to the Christian faith itself, insofar as the gaad God is also conceived sf as the Lord of history? In its posing sf this question, I)astoevsky"s prophetic art addresses itself to Christims, confronting them with the di%cuIt impaative of rehsing modern historicism without refusing to engage in history.

Notes 2. Hamah Arenelz, The Human C o n d i ~ n (Chicago: University of Chiago Press, 19581, p. 296, See also George Grant, Time As History (Toronto: University of Toranto Press, 1995) for an aurninatkg discussion of the meaning and implications of the modern belief that we are essentially historical beings. 2. Frmcis Fakuyama, T;tleEfld ofHistoy and the Last lMan (New York: Free Press, 19921, pp. 127-129. The italics are ours. 3. G.W.F. Hegel, TStle Philosophy ofHistoy2trams. J, Sibree (New York: Dover, 19561, p, 197. 4 , Ibid., p, 18, The italics are in the origind. 5. Ibid., p. 379. 6, F u k ~ a m a232e , End ofHi5t-o~ and t-he Last Man, pp. 338-339. 7. Ibid., p. 55. Fukuyarna's more recent book, The Great Disrzrptr'on: Human Nature and ltze Recons~-z"l.lktion of Social Order (New York Free Press, 1999), is somewhat less sanguine about the current sirnation and prospects of gtobal liberal democracy, 111 it he achowledges that the individaalism promoted toy political and economic liberalism has tended to undermine the social and moral values that made liberal democracy work in the We&: "A s o c i q dedicated to the constaxzz:upending of norms and rules in, the name of expanding individual freedom of choice will find itself increasindy disorganized, atomized, isolated, and incapable of carrying out common p a l s and tasks:Tet despite his coxxwrn about the rise of "moral indkidualismBand the consequent "miniaturization of communiq: Fukqama remains fundamentally convinced of the "upward direction of the arrow of History" toward liberal democracy; The reasan for his continued optimism in the face of all the evidence he amasses of a ubiquitous breakdown in family and cornrnuniq is what he cdIs the human "instinct" for reconstituting "social capial." It is in-

stmdive that Fukuyama's faith in this instinct is based on the latest research in neurophysiology?genetics, animal ethology, primatofogy, and evolutionary psychology, He does not, though, ignore entirely the possibility and even desirabiliq of religious faith playing some role in the "renormingmof sociefy; so long as that role is strictly secondary: "Some religious c o m r v a t k s hope, and liberals far, that the problem of rnaral decline will be resolved by a large-scde return to religious orthodov-a Western version of the Ayatollah Kharneini remrning to Iran on a jetliner. . . .A return to religiosiq is far more likely to take a more benign form, one that in some respects has alreadly started to appear in many parts of the United States. h t e a d of c nity arising as a by-proeiuct of rigid beXief people will come to religion. because of their desire for cammurziv . . . ,not necessarily beause they acwpt the truth of revelation, . . . In this sense they will not be taking religion seriously on its own terms but wi1I use religion as a Ianpage with which to express their moral beliefs" (Fukuyama, The Great Disruption, as quoted in Atkanl-ic Monthly; May 1999, vol. 283, no. 5, pp. 55-80). One w u l d be hard-pressed to find a clearer example than this of the contemporary liberal progressivist v i m of the place of religion h a secular world. 8. Fyodor Dostoevsky, Notes from rhe Undergroand, trans, Jane kntish (Odord: Qxford Universiv Press, 195)l), p. 24. 9, Henry Thornas Buckle, Histo:ory of Civilization in EPlgtand ( b n d a n : Longmans, Green, md Co., 18851, p, 190,This work appeared in a Russian edition in 1844, an edition that Bostoevsb bad in his own library. See Leonid Gmssnzan, Biblioteka Dosl"oewkag0 (Odessa, 19191, p. 145, 20. Doslowsky, bJi3tesfiom the Underground, p. 30. l l. Voltaire used this phrae to describe his Essai sur tes moeurs et I'esprit des nations f 1756). 12. Bostoevsb, Motes from the Undergroand,chaps. S, 10. 23. See, for instance, Fyodor DostawsQ* Winter Notes on Summer Impressions, trans, R, L. Renfield fN,p: Criterion, 19551, pp. 109-1 1Q, 14, Letter of 19 Mtiy 1879 to Konstantin Pobedonostsev, in Selected Legers of Eyodor

Dos~oewbeds. Joseph Frank and David 1. Goidstein, trans, Andrew R.. Machdrew (London: Rutgas University Press, 19871, p, 457, 25. The term "me~pl"tysica1 rebellion""is Albert @musks,For his insightful commentary on Ivm2srebdlion, see AAlbert: Camus, The Rebel, trms. h t h o n y Bower (MmYork Affred A. h a p f , 19561, pp. 55-61. 16, h r l Lawith, Meaning in Hislory (Chicago: Universiv of Chicago Press, 1%49), p, 114. 17. Fyaclor Dostoevsk*?"heAltolescent, trans, Andrew R. Machdrew (New York Doubieday; 19721, p. 212, It should be noted that &is progressive human shaping of history

has been directed especially toward enhancing human equaXi~by overcoming flte degciencies of nature (&rough technolon) and society (throu& politicd reform, and on occasion, revolution). 18, Vissarian G. Belinsky; Seleeed fiilos~~phicab Worh (Moscow, 19481, pp. 149.-150,Belinisky vvas an mremely infiuentkl literasy critic and p o p h r phsosopher of the 1840s. He acted, in eEect, as mentor to that generation of aspiring witers to which Dostioevsb belonged, It was Belhse wha ""discovered""DostoevsQ?ensuring his early fame by celebrating with such enausiasm flte young wi.t.er's first navel, &or People. See also the &scussion in Chapter 7 about Dostomsws Irater recollection of Belinsvs attimde toward Christ.

19. Dostoevsb, Motes from the Undergroand, p. 30, 20. Ibid., p, 25. 21. Ibid., p*30. 22, Ibid., p, 22. 23. Doslowsky, The Adokscenl: p, 55. awe1 Kant, Groundwork of the ;2letaphy;sicof Morals, trans. H , J. Paton (New York: Harper and Row, 19641, p. 96. 25. Tt has not been. forgoeen h a t Dostoevsky refers to Ivan as a ""scialist" razlher &-tan a "IiberaI" of today. Howwer, ;For him, the term are genera1l-y hterchangeable; althaugh he was well aware of the debate b e ~ e e nmodern Iiberds and socialists+specia& h a t about the relative hpoaancle of individual b e r and ~ social equaliq-he nevertheless tended to view &em as predicates of the same subject: hist:oricist progressivism. 25, "'So mighty a farm must trmple down mmy a Bower . , .crush to pieces m a y am object in, its path" (Hegel, The Philosophy ofHistory, pp,32). See also Irnmanuel Kant, On Histoy, trans, kwis M i t e Beck (New York Bobbs-Merrill, 19631, pp. 24-24, 27. Fakuyam~17ze End ofHistory and the Last Man, p. 32. 28. See Richard Schackt, Nietzsctze (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983), pp. 122-130. 29, Friedrich Nietzxhe, Thus Spoke Zarathusrra, trans, Wdter b u b a n n (New Virrk: Penguin, 19781, pp. 17-18. 30, Priedrich Nietzsche, On ltze Genealogy of Morals, trans. Walter bufmanxl (New York: Random House, f 989), p, f 63. 31. Albert Camus, "Pour Dostolevsk:" in Thkdtre, rkel'ts, ncllavelles (Paris: Gallimard, 19621, p. 1888. 32. Dostowsky muld alreaeIy have encounte~dthe term nihilist in Russian intellectual circles of the 1860s, where, in reflection of its usage by Turgenev in Fahers and Sans, it generally signiged a radical rejection of traditional bonefs of family sociev, and rejigion for the sake of a hture order based on modlern science, See Andrzej Walic&, A History r?f^ Russian Thoughe:Fwm t h hlighgnnaene to Mamisrra (Sbnford: Stanford 1Jniversir-yPress, 19791, pp. 209-215, What partictalarly conwrned Dostoe-vsb*however, w s the person. who had rejected traditional gods but also did not believe in those of the future. This is a concern with nihilism hthe broader, Nietzscheam sense. Demons, trans. Richard Pevear and Larissla Volouonsky (NW 33. Fyodor Bostoev~k~ %rk: Alfred A. h o p $ E994), p. 254, 34. Fyoclor Dostoevsh, The -Idiotstraxzs, David Magarshack (NW York: Penpin, 19551, pp. 416-6417'. 35. Fyodar Dostoe-vsky, Crime and hnishment, trans, Richlprd Pevear and Larissa Volofionsky (NW York: Vintagr;, 19931, p. 547, 36. See Fyador Dostoevsk*The No@booksfir The Brothers Karamamy, ed, and traa, Edward Wasiolek (Chicago: Universiq of Chicago Press, 1971), p. 75, 37. Fyodor Dostowse, A Writer? D13ryZvol. 2, trans. lECemeth Lantz (Evanston, Ill.: Northwestern Universiq Press, f 994), p. 1213, 38. Nietzsche, Thus Spoke ZaratFzustra, p, 284. 39. Oliver @Donovan m&= a suggestive distinaian bemeen sate-totalitarianism and "recent liberal culmre-totalitarianism:" in his Resurrection and Moral Order (Grand Rapids, Mich,: Willim B, Eerhaxzs, 19861, pp. 73-74, See also George Grant's elaboration of the remark oncle made by Huey Long, " m e n fascism comes to h e r i c a , it wiU

come in the n m e of democrag? in his English-SpeakingJustice (Notre Dame, bd,: Unixrsit-y of Notre Dame Press, 1985). One of the first modern Wesern philosophers to offer a non-Christian justification of equalip, based on reason alone, was Hobbes, He argued that human bBngs w r e fundamentally equal in their abitity. to MI one anothw, far the physically w&er could always resort to cunning. This emphasis on the human fear of violent death, and the rolaghly equal abiliv of h a m m to inflict it on one another, cert a d y repZen& a tellkg and ominous "lowering of the sigh&"concerning the basis of humm communi2y; In tfie tradition of political philosophy derived from Hobbes and Locke, the emphasis on calculating self-interest makes it mremely dificult to say why equal rights should continue to be eaended to every person if such an eaendon is not congruent with the comfa&ableself-presemation (as they see it) of the majoriv or of a powehl minority, Hegel thou@t the societ-yof ration4 consumption a d t e d by bourtgeois liberdism an insomplete anmer to the problem of human order, beause it fails to take account of the fact that there &S% a c%spiri-tedness"in human behgs (akin to the thmos recognized in Plato's Repubtic) &at EPequently inspires the sacrifice of material desire far tfie sake of something less tangible-such as recognition. He would thus modi@Habbes and Lacke to add the desire for recapition to the desire for comfortable self-preenation, But again, the question to which there seem no clear a r in Hegel is: W y should e w d recognition be eaended to each and every person simply because &is is what they desire? m a t if such an aension corntradim the desire for a greaser recognition on the part of those in a posiltion to satisfy their mmssivt ""spiritehess" at the apense of the weaker? The liberalism of Hobbes, hcke, and Ifegd, in its emphasis on the sdf-regardingdesires, might explain what every individual wants; but it does not explain why the powedal should be obliged to give them what they wmt, especially if such action runs counter to the similar desires of the povue&l. h o x l g the lllberal phgosophers, it is Kant who most poweffizlly addressed this problem of obligation to orlners, by asserting that all haman beings, irrespective of namral inequalities, are equally tvorthy of respect, because all are equally open to the possibiliv of rationally willing the mord good, The basis of m t ' s moral afirmation of human equality is that morality is an indisputable 'Yaad" of human reason, According to Nietzsche, Kant desemes to be called tbe "great delayer," for h a ~ q persuaded sa malny for sa long that reasan supports the fact of the moral law, whereas in redity reason teUs us that there are no moral facts at aU but only moral intevreta~onsof fads-hterpretations root& in historical circumstances and in tfie instincts, In regard to the ph3osoghical origins of liberalism, and the current vulnerabgity of the liberal idea of equality in the face of Nietzschean historicism, T have found particularly hh$pf-ul Grant's EngIkh-Speakr'v3gfixsgce; and Leo Strauss, Nktltraral Right and History (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953). 40. For Dostowsky's own co ents on the ft;tn&ion of Z o s h as spokesman for his religious thought, see his Ietter of 7 Aupst 1879 to N&olai A, Lpbimov; in Selected Letters o f v o d o r Dostoc?lvsky p, 477. 41, Quoted in John Me-)rendor&A Smdy in Gregtlry iF"aEamas(London: Faith Press, 1962),p. 168. Palamas was attempting to express the diRerene b e ~ e e nhis mysticd theology and the xholastic theology of his West-ern contemporary n o m a s Aquinas. 42. See Bp. fi1Xistos Ware, "The Spiritual Father in QrGodax Christimi~?Cross Currents (SurnmerliEall 1974); and Toseph J, Allen, Inner Way: T~.tvardsa Rebirth of Emtern Chr&l.ianSpiritual Directbn (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Williarn B. Eerbans, 1994). One can see fmm these studies how Bostoevsws chapter ""Eders" in The Brothers Karanzazw has become an important sotar= for scholars of Eas&rn Christian spirituality

43. Far Dostoevsws own hphended identification of the WO, see The Notebooks fox The Brothers firanam% p. 23. 44. Far an insighthI explmatian of how Zasixna's alternative""form of life" constitues a philosophially significalnt response to Ivan, see Stewart Sutherlamd,Atheism and she Rejechon of God (&ford: Basil BlachelZ, 19771, chapter S. 45, For this and other responses of critics to "The Russian Mod: see George Pmichas, The BurdeIz of Vision (Graxzd Rapicls, Mich.: WiUiam B, Eerbans, 19771, pp, 166,170. 46. The words are acmally spoken by Bsiima's "mysteriaus \.isitor:" but they represent his own thiding, just as other expression-such as "life is paradise" or are all responsible"-are first given to asinza .through his elder brother Marhl, This trmsmission of ideas finds its mirror image in the manner in which Ivan's expression-for instance, " e v e e i n g is permitrec-are t&en up by characers such as Smerdykov and Rkitin. 47, See Fyodor Dostoevsb, The Notebooks:for The Idiot, ed. Edward Wasiolek, trans. Q&erine Strelsky (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 196572, p. 222. 48, We h o w &om Dastoevsky's rough notebooks that the model for his character was the liberal historian Timofey Granovsb, a leading &ere:amoxlg Russian "Westernizers" of the 1840s. See Fyodor Dostoevsb3f i e Notebooksfor The Possessed (Demons],ed. mwacd Waioliek, trans. Victor "ferras (Chicago: Uniwrsity of Chiago Press, 19681, p. 82. 49, Dostoevsb, Demons, p, 37, 50, Ibid., pp. 65MS5, 51. For a fascinating account of Joachirn's h e o l o e of history and its subsequent permutatiam in modern historicism, see Karl LGwith, Meaning in Hisay, chapter 8 and alppendk 1. 52, Vasily V, Zenkovsky, "Dostomsky's Relidous and Philosophical Vims: in Dostoevsvsky: A Colleclz'on of Critz'cal Essays, ed. Rene Well& (Englewod CliEs, M,],:PrenticeWall, 19621, p, 144. 53. See, for instance, Dostoevsky" reply to Alexander Gradovskyk criticism of his speech on hshlrin, in Dostoevsb, A Writer's Diav, ~01.2,pp. 1312-1323, 54. Fyodor Dostoevsky, The U~pubEishedDosto;oevsk;t:vol. l , ed. C. R, Proffer ( b n hbor, Mich,: Ardis, 19731, pp. 9%96, 55. Dostomsky, Winter W t e s on Summer Impressions, p, 113, 56. Ibid.,pp. 110,124,116. 57. Dostomsb, A WriterWiary, vol. 2, pp, 1003-1007. 58. Doslowsky, The Unpublkhed Dostoevsky, vaZ. 2, p, 101. 59. Dostoevsb, A Writer5 Bary, ~ 1 . 2p,, 900. The itdics are in the original. 60. Doslowsky, Demons, pp. 25&253. 6 1. Far an interpretation don6 these lines, see ElIis Sandoz, hlikr'catApocahpse: A Study ofDost~ewky5Grand 1nqu;isitor(Baton Rouge: Louiskna State Universit-yPress, 1971), pp, 23 1-233. 52. See O"onovan, Resurrectkn and Moral Order, p, 60. 63. Geir qetsaa, Dostoevsh and His NW Testammt (&]antic: Highlmds, t4.J.: Humanities Press, 19841, pp. 8,42.


The inquisition

the Lamb

Dostoevsky, Revelation, and Jush'ce

[Dostoevsky)~ witings are replete with references to memory and remembering (bo& persand and cultural) and to the apocalptic end of all things. The same is true of the book of Revelation-it is a vision of the end of the world; but at the same time it is full of references ta biblical memory, and it prophetically addresses the churches of the time &out the critical significance sf current aEairs, 3%e""edd"is present, then, not only as the Eutwre " a d of history or ""ed of the world: but also-and indeed primarily-as a matter sf teEos, the inner purpose and ultimate meaning of human lik in the world. This is presented in dramatic fashion in order to unveil the spiritual causality that underlies not onXy the moral psy~holagyof individual agents but of various forms of social and politial organization that structure human experience,As a prophet, then, it is important to note that Dostoevsky does not offer an exegetical reading of Rewlation or a learned and systematic reflection on the significance of its vision of history, ethics, and politics for sus time. Rather, his dramatic art echoes the theolsgial poetry of the apocalypse in order to unveil the significance of the end-revealed in the death and resurrection of Jesus-for D o s t s e v s ~ s(and our) time and place. A theology of justice and peace that passes through the crucible of Dostoevsk;yfsapocalyptic art will be quite different from the liberal pacifism and moralism of Tolstoy, as George Steiner has argued.' Dostoevsws prophetic art portrays the movement of the human soul in the crisis of cosmic fall and redemption, yet wihin the portentous particularity of late-nineteenth-centuryRussia, struggling over its finture identiw*Will Russia become a modern Western secular power, or

remain a God-bearing people sewing the reconciliation of nations in the image of Christ? m a t role does Revelation play in Dostoevsws depiction of this existential and cultural s t r u ~ l e ? n e Brothers Karamazov is a novel about justice, and its most famous passage, Ivads prose poem of "The Grmd Inquisitor," puts the Christian account of divine justice itself on trial. Ivan's Inquisitor accuses Christ of betrqing human solidarify and the possibility of mrldly justice by rehsing the three temptations of the devil and siding with the divine justice that has made the world as it is. Many mmmentators have discussed the structure of the Inquisitor's caas aaginst Christ with reference to his reinterpre~tionof the three temptations of Jesus in Matthew 4.2 The larger symbolic context of the poem, however, is the cosmic conflict depicted in the book of Revelation, which concerns the nature and destiny of human history and addresses the problem of evil and divine justice. Several, important references to Revelation are explicitly made in "The Grand Inquisitor,""and various interpreters have noted these, but no sustained attention has been given to this symbolic context and its importance for understanding the religio-ethicali framework of The Brothers Karaunazov.Vhis chapter explores these references and shows how the symbolism of the biblical text is used by Dos.t-oevsbto iU~minateIvan's (and the Inquisitor") rebellion against God in the name of retributive justice and to develop a Christian response to this rebellion in the novel as a whole. Though the two functions cannot be neatly separated, this chapter focuses primarily on Dostoevsky%use of the symbolism of Revelation to depict the moral and psychological dynamics of his characters in rdation to the question of divine justice, and Chapkr 6 concentrates on the sociopoliticaJ impXicatisns of Dostoevsky's apocalyptic Christian construal of spiritual ausality* It is surely no accident that Ivan's poem brings the heavenXy powers to earth, to be judged by a Euclidean mind, in contrast to the revelatory vision given to St. John of Patmos, in which John was raised up in the Spirit to the throne of heaven, In an important article w r i ~ e nsome years ago, Paul iMinear makes the point that John's cosmo1og-y in the book of Revelation is not dominated by the (Euclidean) categories of time and space but rather by heaven and earth, with primacy accorded to the heavenly realm,"urthermare, there is not merely- a "first" heaven and earth (ta pprota, 21:4, which u1l;mately pass away), but also a "new" haven and earth, which constitute the decisive frontier of the old-not in terms of temporal succession (though the new heaven. and earth do not pass away) but as an alternative cosmic order and communit-y in which God dwells and is worshiped as Sovereign, Though they coeist in time and space, then, the saints as citkns of the heavenly Jerrtsdem live under a different r t k , order, and ethic than do the ear&-dwelling citizns of Iiabylon. These two orders, however,

do not coeist peacehlly-they are engaged in cosmic confiict: over the meaning of human hqpiness, peace, and justice, The decisive role in this conflict is played by the slain Lamb, who constitutes, seals, and l e d s this ""ncrw" wmmunity. to its victorious end, The meaning of divine justice (and of human happiness and Eulfillment), then, depend upon the cosmic .Eramework in which it is understood. So too in The BroLhers Karamazolr, In the conversation leading up to Ivan's poem, Ivan confesses to Myosha that, created as he is, with a "Eudidean earthly mind""(235),* he cannot resolve the ""uniwrsal"or "eternal" questions they are discussing with reference to the mind of God, Thus, he s;tys, "wh2e f am on the earth, I hasten to take my own measures" "(24. This measure judges God" '%igher harmony'' not to be worth the sugering of innocent ch2dren. The faaual accounts of human iGustice that Ivan has compiled in his dossier are used to pass judgment on divine justice, He cannot accept the world as it has been created by God. Ivanzs earthly measure of justice demands retribution for human injustice-not in some remote, infinite realm but in the Euclidean dimensions of eara1.y.time and spa= in which he-Ivan-dwlls, There is anolher side to Ivan, reveslled in his earlier plrrslfession to his brother of his erotic "thirst Ear life,""a basic love of life experienced with his insides, his guts s conflict: with his (230). This is a love that he a n n o t explain; indeed, it s ~ n d in Euclidean logic and his rebellion against the created order of things, Ivan" torment is rooted in an inner division b e ~ e e nhis heart-his love of life, which is the source of his "faith in the vvclman I love" and "fai& in the order of thingswand his intellect,S which is oriented toward the ""gaveyard" of modern Europe, which represents death-death of the traditional God, and death of falirh in a spiritual moral order alive in the natuire of things. The question, stated dramatically by Alpsha both at the beginning and at the end of their conversation, is: Will Ivan" basic, erotic love of life be sdvificauy "resurrected,""or will he, at age thirv, dash the cup of life to the ground in self-destrrtaive, rebellious despair (236231,[154])""?y the end of his recitation of "The Grand Inquisitor,""Ivan has cominced himself that the latter will occur. Alpsha identifies this as the consequence of his inner ""heU:" the torment of a divided conscience." The novel makes clear that Ivan's atheism is not merely an abstract, intellectual phenomenon but has a personal, spiritual root: the inabillrly to love his father, and furthermore, the desire for retribution apinst that father for his forgetfulness and neglect of Ivan as a child.? We see the first expression of Ivads wish for *Here and belowBrderences appearkg inside parentjhew in &e narra~veare page numbers in Fyodos Dostoevsk;y;The Brothers Karamazov, txans. Richad Pevear and La~ssaVolobonsky (NW "I"ork MntageZ1990). References inside square brackets are page numbers in "The Grand Inquisitor? d h e aforenxm.t-ionededi~on,in (I"hapter 2 of the present volume, repdnted from a

his father" death in part 1: ""As for my wishes . . . &ere f reserrlre complbe freedom for mysclf" "(143); but he gives in to the hateful thing that is "pawing his soul, as if he were about to take revenge on someene" @(276),when he sends an indirect signal to Smerdyakov, preparing the way for his father's murder. Ivan's iixabiliq to love and his clinging to a desire for retributive justiw cause him to remain in the hell of inner division.8 3%e social vision of the Inquisitor, then, is not simply a political theory-it represents a state of the soul in rebeIlion against divine love. The specific form of hi&er harmony against which Ivan rebels is identified by Myosha at the end of the chapter entitled "RebeDion;""as the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world (Revelation 13~8;cf. f Peter 1:19-201, who "can forgive everphing, forgive all andfor all, because he hirnseE gave his innocent blood for all and for evemhing" (246). This vision and the accompanying, wrsbipful refrain of the heavenly community-"Just art thou, Q Lord, for thy ways have been revealed?"(repeat& both in the book of Revelations and in the Grand Inquisitor)-are directly chauenged by Ivan and the Inquisitor. 81x1 of his plrrslfessed love for humanity (245), Ivan rejects the biblical conception and teaching of Christ and expresses poetically in the moulh of the Grand Inquisitor his conception of a truer image of human nature and a more reafistic image of the good and just social order. Divine grace will be replaced by. the reign of earthly justice, which cannot amne far injustice but can at least mitigsite human wit and suRering. Miracle, mystery, and authority, as parodically artriculated by the Inquisitor, closely paraUe1 the dragan and the two beasts in Revelation, which are (like the Inquisitor) symbolicatlly auied with the earthly powers of BabellBabylon and the Holy Roman Empire. Four other irnporQnt allusions to Revelation in the novel confirm and expand the moral significance of JoMs Apocalypse for Dostoevsky's art. On the positive: (pro) side, these include references to images of the ""havenly Jerusalemy"Reveration 3:12; 211, in the rebirth visions of ALyosha and Miva, and, in Snegiryov's lament over the imminent death of his son flysha; and on &e negative (contra) side, the alternative cosmolan depicted in Ivan's anti-rebirth vision of the devil, The second sedion of this chapter explores how Dastoevsky used these references to answer the challenge posed by Ivanlthe Inquisitor to the meaning and nature of dkine justia in the world, to which tve now turn.

The Inquisition Scene "The Grand Inquisitor" can be read as a legal trial concerning the true meaning of human nature and his to^^ where the God revealed in Christ is in the dock, That is wfi the poem is structured on the model of the three temptations in

Matthew 41431, The real miracle of the New Testament, says the Inquisitor, is not Christ" offer of sdvation but the three questions posed to Christ by the devil in the wilderness: I3y the questions alone, simply biy flte miracIe of their appearance, one can see that one is dealing wi& a mind not human and transient but eterad and zlbsoiute, For in, these three quest.ions all of subsequent hum= history is as if brought &gether into a single whole and foretoZd; three images are revealed that will take in all the in,soZuble historical contradictions of human namre all over the earth, . . . Decide for yourself who was right: you or the one who questioned you tfien?[Mj

The wilderness temptation story; like the Gospel accounts of the c r u c i f ~ o n , takes the form of a legal trial concerning the truth about the human condition, political authority; and historical justiw. The larger symbolic context in which to understand these trials is the cosmic battle, depicted in the book of Revelation, b e ~ e e nthe power of light or divine rule and the rebellious powers of darkness headed by the great spirit of rebellion in the heavenly court, SaQn or the Devil. It is worth noting here that the longest section of the novel. is also a criminal trial-the trial of Dmitri Karannazxtv; falsely accused of the murder of his father. The trial is set in a modern courtroom operating according to the secularizinginnovations of legal reform introduced in Russia in 1864, an adversarial system based an rights and the objective presentation of forensic evidence, similar to the current systems used in Nor& Arnerica.1° This section of the novel provides a deep critique of the contemporary system of justice, insoEar as neither the facts of the murder nor the psycholow and character of the accused are or can be accurately construed or understood within the nondialogical, clinical, wEucfidean'y courtroom, whose aulhorities have no insiet into "spiritual causality." We shall re-t-urnto this point in Chapter 6, The Inquisitor" s s e , in contrast, is not prosecuted wihin the terms of modern liberal justice-and this is no accident. The Inquisitor is conducting a refigious inquisition 6 t h k the cell of a ""goomypvaulted prison in the old building of the holy court" "(250); and he has insight into spiritual caasdity-even as he stands in explicit rebellion against its Creator, Indeed, the inquisition scene is staged precisely to lay base the spiritual roots of rebeflion, As Mbert Camus argued in his important study of modern culture, f i e Rebel: "Metaphysical rebellion is the movement by which man prates& against his condition and against the whole of creation, It is mehphysical because it cong Dostoevsws novel is irntests the ends of man and of creationP1T h e s ~ g i n in portant, beause unl&e John of Patmos, who is "raised up" by the Spirit "on the Lord's dayJ' to the worship scene in the heavenly city, Ivan puts this heavenly city and its Ruler on an earthly stage. The inquisition of divine rule is conducted by

one of the ugliest representatives of earthly CChstian authority-a skteenthcentury Spanish Grand Inquisitor-and the represenative for the defense is a romantickd and mostly ssilent Christ, Ivan's literary fantasy.of the slain Lamb. ban oEers a description and critical evaluation of this setting in his "literary preface": He appeared quieGy, inconspicuously, b ~ tstrmge , to say, evevone recognized him, This could be one of the best passages in the poem, I mean, why it is exactly that they recognize him, People are drawn by an invhcible force, they Rack to him, surround him, fofonow him. He passes silently a m o q them with a quiet smile of infinite compassion, The sun of love shines in his hmrt, rays of Light, Entightenmen9, and Power strem from his eyes and, pourintg over the people, sh&e their h a & s with respanding Iove. He stretchm farth his hmds to them, blesses them, and from the touch of him, even only of his garments, comes a healing powec,[41]

Ivan" artistic creation both resembles and diEers from the biblical portraits of the incmate Christ in crucial respeas: The deeds of miraculous power are unaccompanied by word-onIy "a quiet smile of infinite compassion"-and the li@t he brings is described in terms of the power of personalir-y;the "invincible force" of inner beauty, There is nafiing here of the divine inclognita, the ""farm of the servant" in inserrs garb, nothing of the sword of judgment embodied in the words of Jesus. Indeed, the only words Jesus speaks pubficly in Ivan's account are the vvclrds he spoke privately in the Gospel-TaEithw cami (Mark 5:41), Xn Ivan7s account they brscome magical, romantic words of earthly miracle. Hence, though Ivads description of the ""sn of love" shining in the face of Christ mimics certain elements of John of Patmos's description of the heavenv "son of mad' in his vision,i2 what is le& out (the "sharp sword""of the prophetic ward, for example) and how those elements are construed significantly alter the portrait. hank somantic poetics offer a secular replacement for the liturgical poetics of the Apocalpse and in this respect parody biblial propheq. Yet ano&er parodic reversal in Ivan" setting makes this even clearer: The Grand Inquisitor appears incognito, ""rot wearing his magnificent cardinars robes in which he had displayed himself to the peoiple the day before, when the enemies of the Roman faith, were burned;" but attired in "hiis old, coarse monastic cassocFf41]. This staged eEe& heightens the sense of rivalry b e ~ e e nthe two religious figures and conceals the Inquisitor" true public identity. (The cardinars robes as well as the monKs assock dso conced the Inquisitor's rebeflious disbelief in the God fie c l a h s ta represent.) He begins his inquisition with John the Bapdst" question, ""lit p u l " but vicHy adds, "Do not answer, be silent;""bemuse ""-youhave no right ta add anfiing to what you already said onceW@42 1, Ivan here parodies the closing warning in the book of Revelation f 22: 18f.), not to add to (or

take away h m ) the words of the prophecy, again raising the fundamental question of how God's truth and justice are revealed in history; This question has already been raised in Ivan's literaq prefaceE391 6 t h reference to ano&er of Revelation' closing phrases: "Behold X come quick1f"Revelation 22~7,12,28). These w r d s from the find chapkr of Revelation clearly raise an obstacle to faith, not only because of the time elapsed since the propbetic promise but especially because believers must now rely for mnfirmation only on the promp~ngs of the heart, having no external siws or mirades or "additional tvordsP According to Ivan and the Inquisitor, Christ" reliance on his followers' inner faith reveals excessive confidence in the human heart, Hence the significance of another of Ivan" prefatory. literary allusions, his reference to the falling star Wormwood (Revelation 8:10-11) in conneaion with a new miracle-denying heresy that has arisen in the sixteenth century in northern Germany[I;ZOJ.The reference is important in m o respects: Firstly; the Inquisitor, representing the ideolae of papal. monarchy, seeks the earthliy. political establishment of divine rule through the unity of the Haly Roman Empire and the Roman Catholic Church. The union of church and empire requires the civil religious display of heasvenly legitimacy and power via impressive earthly miracles. The second point has to do with the substance of the ailusion to the ""great star" Wormwood, representing Babylon (Isaiah 14:12f.; Jeremiah 51), which has fallen from heaven upon the waters, poisoning and embittering them, Like subsequent references to Revelation (and to Zi;rbd/Babylon in particular) in Dostoevskfs art, this one is a parodic reversal: WormwoodlBabylon represents the poisoning power of idolatry, of service to false religious authoriv or power, which has destructirre consequences, not the least of h i c h are the fiery Inquisitorial sum-da-f4. fithough putatively a criticism of the hereticaX denial of miracles represented in early modern ideas of faith, the Grand Inquisitor" understanding of miracles+onscripting religious mystery and authority.in the sewice of purely temporal ends-is ulrhately revealed to be idolatrous in Dostaevsws portrayal, Thus, the staging of Ivan's poetic prophecy is important, and it is consistent with the larger poetic backround of Dostoevsws novel, which in turn parallels the symbolism and the setting of the poetic prophecy of the Apocalypse, G. If. Caird comments helphlly on the eschatological context of the book of Revelation: "John's book begins on the b r & s day and ends in eucharistic wrship; and it is in the setting of wrship that his eschatoiog is to be understood, He and his feUow Christians had no d i f i c u l ~in believing that the end could mme to meet them in the midst of the.""" The revelatary. power of what has been revealed in the person of Christ continues to accomplish its meaning and purpose whenever it is remembered for what it is-namely> a vision of God" rule, enaaing the full meaning of worsbip.~~This might be called the "liturgical consciousnessP As

Caird points out, the providential pattern of divine sovereignt-yis unsealed by the slain Lamb in Revelation 5 "in order to involve those whom he has made 'a royal house of priests in God's ssemice"(5:10), and . . .nothing less is intended than the bringing of the whole creation into the worship and sewice of God (5:13), But apart from the Cross this purpose can be neither known nor implementeda"js Hence the purpose of vvclrship is to "lift up" the eucharistic community by the way of the cross16 to a vision of the holy God (and God"s purposes) mirrored in the warship of the heavenly mmmunify; The meaning of liturgical worship here obviously exrends far beyond cultic ritual. It includes the meaning and direction of the whole of life, as might be suggesed in the original sense of kitaurgia, a work of public service. This broader meaning, which is also central to the liturgical theology of Eastern Qrthodov, is , ~ Guroian evident in the artistic structure of The Brothers K a r w m a ~ o vVigen comments firher an the liturgical location of Orthodox Christian tradition and ethics: It is a eucharistic and eschatologial science, a eucharistic and eschatologial way of h o w h g , In the final andysis, the continuiq of tradition is not located in theoZogi a l teas, creeds, liturgic4 forms, or ealesiastial off-ias. The continuiq that contemporary writers such as Pelikan, Zizioulas, and Scbemamn have identified is a product of the eucharistic anamnesis of the gathered worshiging co collective remembrance of this communit.y;in the power of the Holy Spirit, m&es Chrht and his sacrifice present and also aE$ords a passage into and a proieptic experience of Go&s eschatolegicd Engdom.18

The characters and actions (or inaction) of the Warama~ovbrothers and others in the novel are linked, positively and negatively, to liturgial images and settings that reveal the connections bemeen heaven and ear& and thus unveil the meaning of spiritual ausality.'Vvan" poetic tale of "The Grand Inquisitor" is clearly an antifiturgical setting, a defiberate parody of the poetics of Christian liturgical theology. In order to understand EulXy bow the Inquisitor" account of the three tennpbtions parodies the Christian messianic conception af divine justice and rule, one must understand the central s p b o l s of Revelation 12-18: the dragon, the two beasts, and Babylon the whore. References to these figures appear in aXI three temptations. The contes of this symbolism is the cosmic battle between the true, eternd ordering of divine rule and the false, diabolical rule, the power of which is rooted in the abiliv to deceive by manipulating external appearances. Revelation 12 introduces the battle with reference to the cosmic birth of the anointed Son fa messianic interprebtian of Psalms 2:7-p), a birth that refers not to the na-

tiviv of Christ but to his cruciGon. The mother giving birth can be read as the messianic community.(cf, Galatians 4:26: ""frrtsdem above who is our motherJ'), and the agony of defivery, as the sugering of redempGve love. The enthronement of the anoint& Son that is accomplished by his death f cf. Revelation 3-2X; John 12:30f",)conquers the dragon" power ta kill, a power that extends only to the outer realm, not the inner spirit.20 This a d of enthronement initiates the war in heaven be~eezrthe anwls and the dragon, now identified as Saan or the Devil, "the deceiver of the whole worldf)(Revelation 12:9). The Devil here, as elsewhelre in the Bible, is identified as the accuser in the heavenly court, the chief prosecutor of legal demands for retributive juslice (Revelation 12:10; cf. Job 1; Zechariah 3). We now see that the cosmic battle is dso a legal one, over the meaning of justice itself, The dragn" attempt t-o devour the messianic child includes the temptations of Christ (the great dragon is also the "ancient serpentw-Revelation 12:9, 13-17)), but its ultimate background is the cosmic drama of redemption as a reenactment of the creation, in which the dragon of chaos must be defeated by the Creator. In this battle, clearly, retributiive justice is not the final mrd. Justice must be related to a: more probund understanding of the Creator" purposes and of the goodness of the creation as it is. Deposed from heaven, the dragonlserpentldevil then unleashes his power on earth, In Revelation 13 it becomes evident that this power is rooted in the abiliv to deceive, Part of the dragads deception, it would seem, is the misrepresentation of Go8s rule strictly in terms of retributive justice, thereby distorting the true meaning of good and evil, life and death.2' The subsequent chapkrs dietail the tremendously destructive rebellion unleashed by the thwarted and defeated dragon and his minions-a rebellion that those who are faithhl to divine rule experience as suffering and mar-l;yrdom,The nature of diabolical rule is given finr&er expression in the two beasts of hvelation 13, Just as the dragon parodies the Creator, the first beast (the ""antichristy')is a clear parody of Christ. This beast, who arises out of the sea (the bo@omlessabyss, Revelation 11:7) and is given the power and authority. of the dragon, dicits a fouowing by producing a miraclethe healing of an apparently mortal wound. His subsequent blasphemous and destructirre authority. is rooted in the delusive power of idolatry. This first beast is implicitly present in the Inquisitor's discussion of the second temptation, The second beast, who arises from the land (i.e., a human pmghet) and who imitates both the false "Iamb" and the dragon (Revelatlion 13:1l), seeks to establish the worship of the first beast. This it does through the working of "great signsD-the very miracles that Christ refused to perform, "making fire come down from heaven ta earth in the sight of men" 03: 13; cf. Luke 9:54; 11~29-36). It is not insignificant that the Inquisitor quotes this verse in the context of the first temptationr441, where Christ is tempted to put an end ta earthl-y suEering

by satisfying his bodily hunger at the expense of the spiritual fieedom of human beings, Although the Inquisitor recognizes the spiritual dimension of human nature (in contrast to scientific socialism, for example, which s h p l y ddeies it), he argues that Christ resolved the question wrongly-he should have used miraculous powers to coerce spiritual conhrmity through material means, I)). doing so, implies the Inquisitor, Christ couM have taken away not only the tarment of pbsical hunger but also the burden of spiritual freedom. This brings us to the relation of the first beast to the second and third temptations. The task of the second beast is to solicit warship of the first beast (Revelation 13:14f.). The id~latrousclaims of the first beast (based on the mysterious and miraculaus overcoming of a mortal wound) are "given breath"" by. the second beast through the performance of miraculsus signs, backed with the coercive power of the sword (13:I5) in order ta establish a communi.fy based on political religion. In his retelling of the second temptation, the Inquisitor criticizes Christ .for not capturing the human conscience through the powers of (I) miraculous works ("for man seeks not so much God as miraclesB"7]); (2) blank, impenetrable mystery (not the mptery of the human heart and the freedom of love) that requires "blirzd obedienceB"[481; and (3) the authority of the sword, the ""Fte from heaven" &at eliminates opposition through coercive punishment. The nature and exercise of this authority in the sewice of a universal religious state constitutes the substance of the third temptation, to which we will return. The importance of the second temptation, is that it represents a parody of the mystery of dhine love, footed in, a lower view of human nature and the worship of a less transcendent, visible god-which is more ""ralistic" in its demands: f swear, man is created w&er and baser than you &ought him! How haw can he

ever accompfish the =me things as you? Respecti~lghirn so much, you behaved as if you had ceased to be compassionate, bemuse you demanded too much of himand who did this? He who loved him more than himself! Respecting him less, you would have demanded less of him, and that would be claser to love, for his b ~ r d e n would be li&ter, 1481

The 144,000 m a r v s seakd in the first resurrection (Revelatlion "i"20; cf. 14:1; 20:4f.), says the Inquisitor, "were not like men, as it wre, but gods""[8].22 The premise is that human beings are not created in the image of Cod and therefore cannot be pided in freedom by the image of the crucified Lamb. Human beings do not seek God, or the offer of divine love accepted in the free decision of the heart, so much as they seek miracles-the immediate gratification of their bodily desires, without responsibi1i.t-y.

Appropriately, then, the Inquisitor" monolowe ends with a parody of Christ the sin-bearing mediator of salvation and of the 144,000 marws who foUow him in death, Based on the anthropological premises implicit in the Devil's temptations, the Inquisitar will ""carrect" the w r k sf Christt5lj and solve the problem sf evil in a manner that realizes justiw and human happiness s n the earth, The cost sf this remediation, says the Inquisitor,will be borne by those who govern in con~ciousakaiance with the Devif: We wiU tell them that every sin will be redeemed if it is cornmi~edwith our permiaion; and that we allow them to sin beause we love them, and as for the punisbe-nt of these sins, very well, we take it upon ourselves. , . . h d everyone will be happy, all the millions of creamres, ampt for the one hundred thousmd of those who govern them. Far only m, we who keep flte mystery, only we shall be unhappy. There will be thousands of millions of happy babes, and a hundred thousand suffererswho have taken upon hemselves rhe curse of the howledge of goad and evil, Z"eace,EuUiythey wiU die, peacehlly they will expire in your name, and bqond the grave they wiU h d only death. But we will keep the secret, and for their own bappiness we will entice them will a heavenly and eternal rewrd, F51 ] In contrast to the 144,000 martyrs in whose mouths "no lie was found" "everation 14:s) but whose lives on earth were cut short by. violent death, these 100,000 seek to complete the human project by securing bodily life on earth by means of a lie. The Inquisitar sees deazfi as the last word for mortalethat is his ""scret." Eternal life and happiness are religious construds that may be used for potjiriical purposes. This is a parodic reversal of Revelation, where the power to kill the body is exposed as penultimate and under the judgment of the eternal God. It is this judgment, in the Inquisitor's view that must be called into question: "We, who took their sins upon ourselves for their happiness, we will s ~ n before d you and say: 'fudge us if you can and darem""/E5]. The Inquisitor then s h i b from accusation to personal confession, revealhg that he too was once ""preparing to enter the number sf F u r chosen ones, the number sf the strong and mighty; with a thirst "hat the number be complete.' But I awok and did not want to serve madness" [ 5 l j ,The reference to the "completed number" i s taken kom Revelation 6:11, where in response to the loud cry h m the marqred souls under the altar ("0Sovereip h r d , holy and true, how long before thou tvilt judge and avenge our blood?"")od gives them white robes (the promise of immortal glory23) and tells them to wait "a little longer" until the number of marvred saint;s is complete-that is, until the redemptive purposes of God obtained through suffering love are accomplished. It is against this "madness" of divine lovewhich does not cut short the sugering of the innocent, in

order that all mmay be saved-that both Ivan and the Inquisitor rebel, in the name of retributive justice and a less grand (less transcendent or cosmic) harmony; Perfect poetic consistency, then, is displayed in the last words of the Inquisitor, which stand in defiant opposition to the Marana 5-lzw ("Come, our Lord!"")f Revelation 22:28: ""Goand do not come again . . . do not come at all . . . never, neverIW[54]+ven as the Inquisitor has silenced Christ from the beginning of his monologic tirade, ironially titled an uinquisition,"

Echoes of the New Jerusalem The answer to Ivan's (and the Inquisitor") rebellion in the novel is the revelation of a divine measure beyond retributive justice, a love of the created order as it is. Such a love sf creation gives up its own finite perspective as the place where judgment of the goodness of the ereat& order or of divine justice occurs, It gives up its own divided knowledge of gaad and evil as the place where true understanding is found, in order to be lified up to participate in the reconciling action of divine love in the world, according to the image of a r i s t . All of this is elaborated in the Iik and teachings of Elder Zosima as recorded by Myosha-not as a pointby-point refutation of Ivan's and the Inquisitor" charges but as the dramatic development of an alternative perspective rooted in a very different spiritual orientation, To attempt a point-by-point refu~tionof the Inquisitor would of course be to accept the tempter" turfr;it w u l d be to succumb to another b r m of disore the gads, It w u l d be andered desirethe desire to win the intelledual b a ~ l of other idolatry parodying the divine truth, the truth that communicates itself in anolher manner altogether. Dostoevsky"~response to Ivank pmse poem, then, is not a counterargument brat an embodiment of the truth of the Gospel parodied by Ivan. Dramatic references to the spbolism of Revelation in answer to Ivan and the Inquisitor occur in the rebirth experiences of dyosfta and Miva, both of whom give up the claim to retr;tbutive justice in order to lave the world as it is, despite unjust suffering. They renounce ear&ly human measures for a saving faith in God, Both meds conversions follow the penitential pattern sf death and resurrection signaled in the novel"s epigraph; and both rebir&s are accompanied by &$ionsthat bear akausions to the vision of the new Jerusalem at the end of Revelation, These visions are no mere doctrinal abstractions or literary allusions; rather, they are dramatk enactments of the penitential consciousness modeled after the image of Christ, The prominence of penitence in John's Apocalypse might be noted here as well, As Ricfiard Baucbam points out, Revelation 11:l-13 oEers the fuBest treatment of the manner in which the churcKs witness sc3cures the witness and faith sf the nations in the cosmic war of the Lamb.2Vhe

two witnesses of chapter l1 represent the church as a continuation of the prophetic witness of lesus to the nations. They are clothed in sackcloth, the symbol of repentance (cf. Jonah 3:4f.; Matthew 1 1 2 l), and their prodannation of the s the seven judgment of God is in fact a call to repentance-as are also the l e ~ e rta churches, with which the book of Revelation begins (2-3), Take, for example, these w r d s to the church in Sardis: ukwake, and strexzghen what remains and is on the point of death. . . . Remember then what you received and head; keep that, and repent" (Revelation 3:2-3). The faithhl power of witness that conquers the powers of evil is cIose1y tied to penitence and the remembered offer of divhe forgiveness. To awaken and remain attentive to the restoration of true humanity by the slain Lamb who rules in the heavenly ciq-a rule mediated on earth by. the suffering, servant church-requires rebirth, Xt requires the obedient practice of the disciplines of the penitential life, for it is a truth that is transparent neithm in the fallen buman soul nor in fallen human familial and societal relationships. The cosmic struggle ber-tveen divine truth and its false, palrrsdic copies d e h e s the terms of human eistence in Dostoevsws novel; to serve the truth is an agon for which only the reborn are equipped. Rebirth and awakening are not simply matters of the inner heart (as Ivan's portrait of Christ imagines) or of individual experience, Only rebirth into the true inner-outer nature of divine love can bind the world together in an ordering of love. This rebirth becomes visible in the l world through embodied, relational =pression-the mimesis of the s p i r i ~ amotion of humble love incarnated by Christ, Xf the paEern is true, then its nature cannot be an abstract or formal or ""othemorldly" ideak it must hold in all aspects of eistence as the underifirrg, ausal. struaut.e, Contrary to Ivads assertion, then, such love is not a "miracle impossible on the earth""or possible only through the "strain of a; lie, out of love enforced by duty, out of sellrimposed penance" "(237). The love of nei&bor taught and enrzcted by Christ cannot be an ahstract or formal or "otheworldly" ideal "%aged""by the Gospel stories and the Christian church for dramatic, inspiring effed.25 It is indeed tied to fai& in God and immortality; but not in a doctrinal or rhetorical smse; rather as a demanding way of life, and one for which human beings have been made. Faith in God and immortality is not a matter for intellectual proof, s q s the elder, but is causally connected with the experience of active earthly love-"The more you succeed in loving, the more you'll be convinced of the existence of God and the immortality of .)roursoul" "(S&), As the elder goes on to say to that sentimental dreamer iMadame nofilakov, who like Ivan lacks faith in irnmortaliq and in the pattern of humble love and admits it with ""deep sincerity: "You have already done much if you can understand purself so deeply and so sincerely! But if you spoke with me so sincerely just now in order to be praised,

as I have praised you, for p u r trulfifulness, then of course you will get nowhere with your efforts at active love; it will all remain merely a dream, and p u r whole life will flit by like a phantom." This point is crucial to Dostaevsky" prophetic vision, tied here ta the propbetic insight of the elder. Qsmic caasdity is not discerned through the external oobsewation of nature and society and their visible motion; it is discerned in the soul, that organon, as Plato calls it, with which one sees the truth and vvkich must be "turned around"" (periagogef from the sQge show of temporal motion to the eternal realm of divine goodness (The Republic 518cd). For Dostoevse this true pattern of the soul3 end is learned by practicing the difficult disciplines of neighbor-love modeled by Christ. In the words of the elder: X am sorry that T cannot say anfling more cornfoe@, for active Iove is a harsh and fearhi flting compared with love in dreams, Love in drams thirsts for immediate adion, quickly performed, and with everpne watching. bdeed, ir will go as far as the giwing even of one" l&, provicled it does not take long but is soon over, as on stage, and eveqone is lookng on and praising, m e r e a s active love h bbar and persewrance, and for some people, perhaps, a whale science. (58)

The dramatic motion of f i e Brathers h r a u n m ~ vfoltows this pattern of '"urning aroung from earthly dreams and stage-shows, the idols and rivalries of human life "undergroundm-the pattern we refer to here as the penitential conseiousnesse The decisive spiritual. shift "tat brings about penitential consciausness is modeled prominenrly in Dostoevsky's art, as has been noted by many commentators, Yet another of his most famous works, Notes ;Fom the Underground (18641, revolves around this shift-a conversion to the image of Christ, catalyzed by a revdation of the contrast bemeen that image and the idolatrous fallenness of the human condition (expressed so self-consciouslyby the underground man), Rent! Girard provides an extensiw analysis of the prophetic power of Dostaevsk-y"~ depiction of the "undergmund."x The underground is the law of fallen human desire-that is, of desire divided against itself. Qn the one hand the self is created for life with others in an ordering of love; on the other hand the self seeks to be the center of that order;ing. Thus, alrhough it needs and desires others (no self can come to self-consciousness without the mediation of anoher), it turns that very desire to the self-assertingdaminatlion of the other. The oher becomes both model and rival, the object of desire and of domination and therefore of both love and hatred. This struggle reflects the separation and isolation of selves not only from one anofier but also from the source of reconciling, divine low, The need and desire for God is likewig falsely externalized, as the dependent, rela-

tional self seeks its independent fullillment through the possession of objects of desire, and even more imporbntly (and more ironiagy), through the imitation of ""sccesshl"" models and mediators of posessive desire in the world, The imitatio dei becomes the imitr;atioaEEen' that creates the endless and increasingly violent cycles of mimetic rivalry between competing, desiring egos-especially when the process is wiXlhl1y repressed and hidden. Girard comments: "One goes "underground" as a result of frustrated mimetic desire. All underground people carefully hide their imitations, even from themselves, so as not to give their models the psychic reward of seeing themselves imitated, not to humiliate themselves by being revealed as imitators."z7 Yet this very egoism intensifies desire and requires ever greater external mediation of that deske. As one seeks self-confirmation and fulfillment through 0thers, the underground self becomes increasingly enslaved to the objects and external mediations of desire. This enslavement causes tremendous hatred and ressentz'ment, which gives rise eventuillly to demonic self-laceration or revenge against others, as so penetratingly depided in The Brothers Karanzmolr, even in the novel"s very structure.28 Thus we mme Eufl circle to Ivads lament of protest against the God r e v d d in Christ: " h e e d retribution, ofierGse I will destroy myself'."?t is a protest against a God who makes a world in which children suft-er and are ""in solidarity with their fathers in all the faherskvildoings" "(244). This mimetic rivalry is the central dpamic of the novel, as is the question of how humans might free themselves of it: murder? suicide?or forgiveness and the higher harmany of suEering love? The pattern of each of the brothers f including the bastard son of ""sinking Lizavetb,""fathered by Fyador) is different, yet all have to do with their rok in and responses to the deah of a father. Can the basic erotic desire, the earthy, raw lik-force of the bramazovs be raised up by the Spirit of God to a higher harmony. (220,23&231), or will it consume itself and others in vioknt death, the "hell" of isolation? Fatherhood clearly plaiys a central role in this novel, As Paul Scoeur shows in his analysis of the movement of the father fiwre h m phantasm to symbol, fatherhood is a complex relational and cuItural designation that traverses a variev of semantic l e v e l ~ a l of l wfiich are ta be found in Dastoevsys nove1.29 The level of the phantasm, or the idol, ceazters upon the economy of desire, The father models and mediates the desires of the son, and hence becomes both an admired indeed, a mimetic rival.30 The father possesses priviand a feared power-fip leges of power desired by the son in order to realize hirnse& this gives rise to the desire to murder the father. We surely see that desire in all of Fyodork sons-except perhaps Ayosha, who stands outside this particular mimetic rivalry but not altogether outside the mimetic struggle, as we shall see, Both the father and

mimetic desire are transfigured at the cultural level through the self-conscious education or sociocultural formation of desire by way of ethial roles and responsibilities.Ricoeur shows that for Hegel the threshold bemeen Moralitat (the moral will) and Sz'glichkeit (the ethial community) is the family, a relation that is social but not purely contraduak it is also a spiritual community, but not voluntary.31 At the cultural level, fatherhood has become a symbol, but not yet a religious spbol-it remains at the level of law. In The BroLhers Karrzmazov this level is explicitly represented in the legal trial of Dmitri for the crime of part-icide-a violation of the highest order, and not merely a contractual violation but also a spiritual one, Mre examine this representation more closely in Chapter 6. There remains the third level: that of refigiaus symbol and the connection of fatherhood to God, There is, says Scoeur, great reseme in the biblial laneage of God as father-given the potential for great idolatr~and possible confusion with the immediacies and reified forms (phantasms) of fafierhoad in the other levels. In Israel's tradition the return of the father is found in God adopting Israel in an affective bond (not kinship)-a relation most pronounced in the prophets, where it is ofien tkd to explicitly eschatological pmmises. The aEectj?vebond ber-tveen God as f&her and his human chadren is also often compared to that bemeen spouses (see, far example, Jeremiah 3: 19-20). Ricoeur comments: "By means of this strange mutual contamination of two kinship figures, the shell of literality of the image is broken and the s p b o l is liberated. A father who is a spouse is no longer a progenitor (begetter), nor is he any more an enemy to his sons; love, solicituditr, and pity carry him beyond domination and sevaity;""3" The eschatologicaX meaning of "father" is intensified by Jesushse of it in the New Testament-fatherhood is connected to the coming reign of God in a communify that can be entered only if one is like a cihsd. It is in Jesus' address to God as his father that the biblical reseme is broken, not as a "relapse into archaism" but as a prophetic direction toward the fixlflillrnent of all things in intirnar-grelation with their source and end. It is a form of address that breaks through the distance of transcendent judgment inta the reconciting community.of spiritual love, This breakhrough, however*can be accomplished only through death, the unjust death of the Just One, present in the prophetic imav of the SuEering Servant, His meek willingness to undergo death is a countermovement to the murderous desire to possess the immortality and power of the father. It is all the more strikng because he already shares in e v e ~ k n the g father has, as expressed in the liturgical h p n in Philippians 2:s-8: "Have this mind (phrorreil-e)among yourselves, which was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equaliq with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a semant. . . . He humbled himself and becme obedient unto death? In contrast ta Freud and I'jietzsche, who interpret this as an ingenious Christian

mist on the old, eternal power struggle, Dostoevsb (like ficoeur and Girard) sees it as a decisive end .to the cycle of violent enmity. The pattern of God's rule, of God" nature, is not the seE-asserting imposition of power-creating a world of suffering in order to enhance the glory of Bigher harmoxly. and transcendent justiw-but rather the free offering of self in the service of a wider reconciliation in which love Eulfills all. There is a hndarnental diEerence in me Brothers Karamazov b e ~ e e nthe selfasserting murder of Fyodor Karamazov-a; ""jst" rebellion that is nevertheless rooted in a mimesis of Fyodork own panern of ins?tinctual,egoistic desire and in revenge-and the death of the son flpsha, which becomes trbe occasion for mediating the spiritual motion of dFng to self and being reborn into a reconciling communiv of children at the end of the novel. The death of Ilpsha, and its wider spiritual meaning (as in the ""dlying to self" displayed in the ""rrnning a r o u a r of Alyosha and Miqa), is artistially- linked by Dostoevsky to the paEern of Christ, the God-man, in which it participates-and into which those with eyes to see are invited as participants. This form of participation, however, requires that the death-dealing vioknt and retributiive pattern of fallen desire be "put to death,""in order for the self to be reborn into a community where even kinship relations are transfigured into nonrivalrous, nonepistic relations of love. This rebirth is an enactment and embodiment of the penitential pattern, the expression in speech and deeds of a new mind and a new nature. At the motivating heart of this participation in the Xcenotic pattern of Christ is neither &zzling miracle nor forensic transaction-it is the transformation of all of life by holy, erotic, divine love. The culminating image here is the celebratory assembly of the marriage feast of the Lamb, a tvedding feast that ties together earthly joy and its heavenly completion, Let us chart the "pro and contra" responses of the brothers Karamazov to this saivific pattern, followhg the order in which they are presented in the novel: Myasha (book 71, Mitya (book 8), and IvanISmerdyakov (book 11). The pungest of the Karannazov brothers is described as "simply an early. bver of mankind"" (18133 who is "grange" from the cradle-hat is, he displays ascetic and monastic traits including a "wild, &antic modesty and chastity" (20) and a lack of concern about "who was supporting him." "cause he rehses to participate in the various trimgulations of desire, with their accompanying rivalries and lacerations, he becomes a confidant and mediator of hea_liinglove to his father, his brothers, and other characters. It is no surprise that he throws himself into the monastic path as an "ideal way out for his soul struggling from the darkness of worldly wickedness towards the ligfit: of love" "(18,2(;). He does not share in the "instinctual" hrms of mimetic rivalry. modeled by Fpdor and the other sons, but this is not to say that his "monastic" path is free of disordered desire and the false extamalization of desire. Amang other things, Alyosha will have to struggle

with his idolatrous representation of his earthly spiritual father (his "Pater Seraphicus: as Ivan calls him), the elder asima, whose life he seeks above all to imitate in his own, Early in the novel Alyosha is described as having ""unquestioning faith in the miracuIous power of the elder" (302, and he shares the popular dream that the elder's death will be accompanied by many miracles confirming his spiritual power and glory Alyssha7sidolatry is evident in his veneration sf Zosirna: He vvas not at all trouMed that the elder . . .stood s o l i ~ r ybefore h h . "No mane% he is holy>in his heart is the secret oaf renwal for all, the power that will finally establish the truth on earth, and all will be holy and will love one another, and there win be neither rich nor poor, neither emit& nor humiriated, but all will be like the chitdren of Gad, and the true kingdom of Christ will come." That was the d r e m in AXyasha's heart. (3&3 1)

Alpshds dream of a uni*ng spiritud power that will transfipre realiv is focused rapturously on this father to whom he has bound himself in obedknce. Thus, when Zosima undergoes a death acwmpanied by none of the anticipated miracles but rather by the premature putrefaaion of his body, dyasha experiences a crisis of faith and vestions the divine justice that allows the public humiliation of this most righteous man (339f.). The religious authority and spiritual power of his elder are cakd radically into question Tty an mternd sign (the stinking corpse); and Alyssha, like Ivan, is tempted to rebel, judging Go&s creation to be unjust, Nat only is the order of providence, of spiritual causality; hidden; it is blahntly reversed in this unusual acceleration of the material processes of bodily pplrefadion. The stinking humiliation of the elder" pplrernaturely decomposjing body tempts Alpsha to respond as Ivan did to the filthy stench of God's world, The intensiq of dyosha's spiritual desire, mocked by the humitiating disgrace of his elder's image, is drawn toward the memory of his brother Ivan's impassioned thirst for visible justice:" "Were was Providence and its finger?m y did it hide its finger 'at the mast necessry moment' (Alyssha thought), as if wanting to submit itsdf to the blind, mute, merciless laws sf nature?" "402 Alpshds "virgin heart" is wounded in this personal experience of injustice, and he is suddenv open to the fleshly inducements offered by his tempter; Rakitin: sausage, vodka, and the seductive Grushenka (the object of erotic attention and rivalry among him, his father Fyodor, and his brother Mitya). Unl&e Ivan's intellectualiist ""underground;""dyosha, like i?r/Iiqa,is lured toward the sins of the flesh, his own "back 1ane"khere he can enjoy the shame of depraviq (109).In his ordeal of temptation, however, Alyosha experiences an unexpected miracle from an unexpected source, Instead of "hlling,""be is "raised upmby the ufallen"

Grushenka, who upon hearing that the dder has just died, jumps off ALyoshaJs lap and crosses hersell: This a d restores AyoshaJssoul: He sees that Grushenka begins to respond as if tfie elder himself were present-that is, she begins to display sisterly love, attuned to conscience-precis* the au&ority. appealed to by the elder's teachings f 64). Alyosha comes to see that the authority of the elder, the "secret of renewal far a1Y and the ""pwr of the kingdam," is not carried around in the body of one man. Instead, it is availabl-eto all in the form of a conscience guided by the "law" or "image" of Christ and embodied in experiences of acthe love. There is a discovery here of an inner solidarity in which "all are responsible for all" not only in guilt but also in atoning love. Their exchange shahs the souls of both Myosha and Grushenb, and it causes Grushenka to r e m e h e r a folktale from childhood about salvation from hell afforded by an act of love (the gift of an onion, which symbolkes saving grace), in which the outcome depends on what one does with the opportuniq-whether one shares it with ohers or selfishly attempts to possess it for oneself, Her sharing of an onion, to which Alpsba has responded with loving gratitude, evokes an act of penitential confession. She mnfesses her evil intentions, her intense desire to "ruin" the pure Ayosha (and his "wild chastity""3": "I was determined: I'll eat him up. Eat him up and laugh, See what a wicked bitch I am, and p u called me your sister!" The encounter causes her dso to confess her retributive, vengeful feelings regarding the man who wonged her, her Palish suitor who has recently made another overture toward her after five pars. She bursts into penitential tears, wondering whether her heart can truly forgive (and confesshg hrther that she has grown fond af her tears of self-pity over the years), and Alyosha is moved to make his own confession, "vvirhtews in his ~oice~'~36 This change in Myasha's heart is represented artisticallyby Das&evsk.y in what Diane Thompson has appropriately a k d an "imn" of irnxnor~liv,the chapter entitled "Cana of GalileeF37 dyosha returns to the elder" cell to pray after his miraculous turnaround; and later, as Father hissy reads the Gospel-John", of r the coffin of the dead elder, AIyosha has a vision. It is a vision structured by the Gospel reading of the wedding at Cana, where Christ performed his first miracle to "help men's joy" 6369). It is also a marriage, a wedding feast, and Alyosha" vision. is of the heavenly wedding feast where aZZ ear&ly loves culminate in jo@l wrship of the divine makem: This is the celebration of the marriage of the Lamb described in St. JoMs vision (Revelation 19:r/t; 21:2f.). kriving at the feast, Alyosba is greeted by the dead elder, and directed by him toward the focus of warship, identified as "our Sun" "(361). This is the sun that shines in the new Jerusdern: "And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine upon it, for the glory of God is its light, and its lamp is the Lamb, By its light shafi the nations walk . . . and there shall be no night there" (Revelation 21:23f,; cf. I:16). In

Myosha" vision, then, the holy city has "come d a d - o m heaven, symbolizing the dwelling of God with human beings in a new reconciled order of creation, It is a vision of the Alpha and Ornew, the beginning of all things and the end toward which they move for completion. The way to completion is the one taught by the elder, and modeled in the suEering, active love of Christ. The ascetic vision of humble, serving love has as its find aim the inclusion of all reality in the joyh 1 feast of the remembering peopk of God and in the descent out of hewen of the holy Jerusalem, lit by the Lamb in whose light walk all the nations, each bringng their particular gift of glory to it. It is no accident that Dostoevsky places this vision of the eschatological banquet in the new Jerusalem at the culminating point of Alyoshds e~stentialrebirth. He has experienced for himseE the full inner-outer meaning of the elder's teachings, an mperience that now equips him spiritually for the ascetic "sojourn in the world" to which he has been called. It is a penitential rebira charaderizd by weeping, erotic confession: It was as if &reads f r m aU those innumerable tvorlds of God all came together in his soul, and it was trembljne all over, ""louchfng other wrZds." He wanted to forgive weryome and for eveming, and to ask forgiveness,oh, not far hhselfi but for all a d far werphing, "as others are asking for me: rang again in his soul. But with each momelPt he felt clearly and almost tmgibly something as firm and immovable as this heavenly vault desend into his soul. Some sofl of idea, as it were, was coming to reign in his mind-now flor the whole of his lik and unto ages of ages, We fell to the earth a weak youth and rose up a fighter, steadfast for the rest of his life. (36243138

Alpshds ecstatic &$ion in the monastery garden occurs at rougHy the same time that his brother Dmitri finds hirnseE in another garden, the garden of their father, Fpdor-the hated father who negEeaed him as a chad, who has cut off his inheritance money, and (the last straw) who has become his erotic rival in relation ta Grusfienka, mereas Alyosha is praying for the world, Dmitri finds himself in the dark, boiling with \rexzgehX anger against his vile father, whom he is abswving through a window (392). His pasonal loathing and desire for retribution become so intense that he is tempted to kill his father. But at this moment he experiences a "mirade": @'Godwas watching over me then,"Mitya used to say afterwards" (393).39 This miracle is not only an inner event, and it is no abstraction: G r i g o Fpdor" ~~ servant, who sewed as a surrogate father to Mitya the neglected child (and his abandoned brothers), plays an important role in it.40 He absorbs the blow inended for the abusive father, Fyodor, and thus provides a redemptive

opportunit-yfor Dmitri: The spilled blood of the innocent Grigory marh Miqa's guilt (396-397). Dmitri's conviction that he has Elled Grigory, even as he dise lover, covers he has apparendy lost his beloved Grushenka to her e r s ~ h i l Polish causes him to become "drunk in spiril;""($Q1),Waving his pistols and hreatening suicide, this Schiller-spoutinglover of beauty still speaks in romantic terms about loving life-""Iant to live, X Iove life! Bdieve me. X love golden-haired Phoebus and his hot light" "(402)-as he prepares to flee to Mokroye ("moist mother earth"")to see Erushenka once more, presumably at her wedding feast; to which he brings costly refreshments and rare wine, He wishes to drink to life and to bless God's creation, but he also wants to exterminate ""one foul insect" "(40himself, The only quesrion now is how he will do it: By physical suicide, or by spiritual death to self-asertiony This crisis of death and life is eviknt in the narrator's repeated phrase "Mitya7s soul was trouble$"" (cf. John 12:27), which anticipates the crisis as Miva journeys to Mokroye (409f.). This crisis ends in religous conversion and in death to selfassertion, a movement that begins in Miva's conversation with the peasant coachman Andrei, who reminds Mitya of the crucified Son of God who frees sinners suffering in hell. It is in this conversation that the symbolism in Miva's speech. shift.s from romantic l ~ i c i s m(Phoebus the sun god) to the crucified Son of God, prayer for forgiveness, and the petition "let me also finish with loving" (412)." The order of 10% to which he is now being conformed cannot be accomplished without sut"fering,as he increasingly sees in the light of Grushenka7s response of love to him:" "By her eyes he could now see clearly whom she loved. So now all he had to do was live, but . . .but he could not live, he could not, oh, damnation! God, restore him who w s struck down at the fence! Let h i s terrible cup pass kom me! You worked miracles, 0 Lord, for sinners just like met""(437) Though Miqa quotes onIy the first half of Jesus' prayer on h e Mount of Olives (Matthew 26:37), to be spared the cup of suffering, he neverthdess remains open to the will of God. We cannot trace here the complex journey of Mitya's soul through the three torments of spiritual purifiation (book 9, chapters 3 to 5), except to note that they are occasioned by being accused of a crime he did not commit even as he discovers that his blow did nor kill old Grigory f 458459)." The miracle he earlier request&, which seems to have been granted by the "~esurrecting" news that Grigory is alive and which leads him to be@n speaking the t r u h in humble confession, turns instead into a more humiliating death, Not only is his true statement that he did not kill his father disbelieved, but he is stripsearched in front of his prosecutors, exposing his dirty underclothes (484). He then makes a full confession of his inner, secret disgrxe regarding his duplicitous amamry and monetary dealings with Katya, deagngs rooted in pride and venge-

fUlness.45 Though he has not sought torments for himself as the elder prescribes for those afflicted with desires for revenge (3211, they have been given him by the hand of providence-to the will of which his heart has been opened, leading him to confess even his "private life" (468), which turns out to be rdevant to the case (even though his legal prosecutors continue to think it is not). Following upon this confession, Miqa has his strange dream of "the wee one" (507) who opens him to the experknce of spiritual rebirth, an image that will grow in his consciousness and enable him later to oveircome tempbtioxr, The vision is of poor, burnt-out, st;;tm-ingpeaants on the Russian steppe, one of whom holds a cving baby, Especidy significant in the dream are the vestions Miva asks the peasants: "Tell me: m y are &ese burnt-out mothers s ~ n d i n fiere, g why are the people poor, why is the wee one poor, why is the steppe bare, why dodt they embrace and kiss, why don%they sing joyful songs, why are they. blackened with such misery, why don" they feed the wee one?" 607) These questions are related to love of life %as it is," prior to logic (cf. 23X), and they initiate a loving (rather than retriibutive) quest in MiW for understanding of life's meaning. They lead him in his dream to an experience of heart-felt mmpassion for the suffering ones and the desire to "do something for them" (508), an "immediate deed"" (cf. 26) ""s that there will be no more tears in anyone from that moment on" "(508). It is not far-fetched to see in this dream a reference to the " n w Jeruslemy3hatcomes down out of heaven, after the dragon and the sea of chaos have been conquered, when God comes to dwelX permanently with buman beings: " h d God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neitliler shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away" (Rev. 21:34). The vision ends with Mitya's whole heart ""baz[ing] up and turnling] towards some sort of light, and he wanted to live" (508). It is this vision that keeps Mitya from falling into retributive despair over his unjust fate, and from succumbing to Rakitin the tempter" image of the "new man,""which reduces conscience to environmental stimulus, the soul to a chemical synapse, and ethics ta social and chemial engineering f 588-589). Instead M i t p is sustained by a very different "new man" that has arisen in his soul, who is capable of sufkring love because be is nurtured by Go&s gift of joy, "without which it's not possible for man to live" "(59. This is the hymn-singing ""underground man)" born anew who knows the transcendent sun of the new ferusalem: Even "if I dodt see the sun, still I know it is. And the whole of life is there-in knowing that the sun is" ern2). Miqilysh p n has been transformed from the romantic " " G l o ~ to the Highest in the world, Glory to the Highest in me" "(105) and Schiflerk hymn in praise of Mature, An die Freude, to the underground hymn: "Hail to God and his joy! X love

h i d " This indicaes the shifi in i?r/IivaJsorientation from anthropocentric humanism (which cannot address or resolve the lacerating cycles of the underground man) to the God of the Bible. And yet, the new Jerusalem has not descended from heaven, and Mitya must continue ta wrestle with the conflict of new and old desires in his heart. n o u g h be has responded in openness to the l has jolted him out of his directionless movement from providential u " b ~ fthat passion to passion-"Never, never wouId X have arisen by myselfl"(509)-and that has offered him a path of puriEying suffering, the struggle remains. Mitya"s struggle is strilcingly s ~ b o l i z e din the chapter entitled "A H p n and a Secret;""in which diff-erentapproaches to mord responsibitity, a u s a l i ~and , community. are presented. RaEtin and Miva have been discussing ideas about the nature of ethics, RaEtin" ideas are taken from Claude Bernard, famous for his development of the mperimental scientific method rooted in what W. M, Siman calls "the one article of faith he regarded as necessary to any science: that the principle of causal determinism is operative everyhere in "factual""natttre.46 This narrowly defined science, and the methodological reduction of movement to physicochemical processes, stand in stark contrast to the "whole science" of active love prochimed by the eXder. Rakitin rejects h e elder" religious na'iPier4, but he also modifies Ivanyssesis that without God and immortali~"all is permitted'' to ""all is permitted to the intelligent man," The egoism of enlightened selfinterest will not aflow the passions to control the mind; it will stay out of legal trouble even while getting what it wants, Rakitin is a socialist and herefore ideologially pure, He is beyond the sensualism of scoundrels, and believes that contrary to Ivan" u"sttpid theory;" "mankind will find strengh in itself ta live br virtue, even without befieving in the imxnos~ali~ of the soul! Find it in the love of I&erv, equaiiq, fraternity" "(82). Yet Rakitin's sckntific socialism, as the Inquisitor" expos4 shows, lacks insi&t into the spiritual ausaliv of human action and faifs to see the incompatibitiq b e ~ e e negoistic freedom and sharing equally with afl. Distributive justice cannot satisfy the spiritual demands of retributive justice. RaEtin himself is the most mercenary of areerists, transparently motivated by the desire for money and critical literary &me; he is filled with ressentiment; If &an is a grave, as Mitya claims, Rakitin is the whitewash on it, Mity-a is not truly tempted by Rakitin's heories, and be sees through the shallomess of his intelligence. And yet he recogni~eshis own weak ability to follow the pmphetic path of sugering shown him in the &sion of the "wee one" and the "new man" h a t has arisen wi&in him, He wants to sing the underground man's tragic .hymn to God, in whom there is joy; but "all these philosophies are killing me, devil take them!" "(592). The real tempter for Mitya (as for Alpsha) is brother Ivan, who ""hides his idedhnd remains silent as a sphinx, Ivan" ttormented struggle over God and immortality goes beyond the battle bemeen ideo-

logical and doctrind slogans so characteristicof liberalism: "European liberalism in general, and even our Russian liberal dilettantism, has long and frequently confused the final resule of socialism with those of Christianity-"(691, precisely because it reduces both to moralism-that is, ta social morality devoid of substantive spiritual and theological depth. There is a conhsion here about the law of nature, as if nature itself entails the moral injunction to love humank;ind. Ivan does not hold to this view. The law of love does not derive from natural law but h m the command of God, the religious l a t ~that cihauenges the egoism of human nature. Without God and hmortatity, the egoistic ""allis permitted,""even to the point of crime, is the most reasonable conclusion. Ivan's idea-"there is no virtue if there is no immortaliqJ" tion of Mitya from the outset: ""l11 remember" "0). It is a thought that continues e even after his resurreaing vision, just as it continues ta torment to p l a ~ Miqa Ivan in his secret heart," It is a sc3cret identified by Alyosha in response to Ivanas claim that the Inquisitor's dream of harmony is joined to "the intelligent people": " m a t inteuigent people? . . . They are not so very intelligent, nor do they have any great mysteries and secrets . . . Except maybe for godlessness, that's their whole secret. Your Inquisitor doesn't bbeeve in God, that's his whole secretfB"[3] The secret in "A Hymn and a Secret" concerns someLfring more particular, relakd to the larger secret of godlessness, and it too is suggested by. Ivan-a plan for Miva to esmpe to America, with Grushenka in order to make a "new start." Miva links this secret plan ta his conscience: " m a t &out my conscience? I'll be running away from suEering! I was shown a path-and I rejected the path; there was a way of purification-I did an about-face. . . .Wll, and where will our uaderground hymn rake place? Forget America, h e r i c a means vanity again!" "95) This struggle ia Mitya's conscience has already been noted by Erushenka, who comments on his mood swings. W e n he talks about the @weeone" and the hymn, oriented by the liturgical vision of the new Jerusalem ruled by the slain Lamb, he weeps and laughs ""as if he were a child himself" (570). The darker side to i?r/Iiqays moods, the side of fear and ankety, is connected to the secret plan suggested and insist& upon by Ivan and Katya. Both brothers try above all to keep the secret h m Alyosha-the "cheruw (595, cf. 665 X ) in their consciencewhose life judges the plan a lie. It will not bring freedom b r a new beginning (that is to be fomd only in the path of Christ-not my will but thhe be done-as testsed to in the h p n ) ; it will instead require a secretive life supported by external, mechanical fabriation, and wfII.bring tormeas of wnsciena and seE-condemnation that cannot be esaped.48 m a t is most needed in this whole tragic aff-air is the repentance, confession, and forgiveness of the triangulated rivals trying to escape the ""~)ablem"of Mityayshaving been falsely accused, in which they are all spir-

ituauy implicated. Mitya is finally able to speak out of h i s redemptive howledge of the loving source of human solidarity when he calls his hated rival sibling ""brother Inn"; his last words in the conversation with Alyosfia are ""Ive Ivan" (59'7). We note, by contrast, Ivan" parting words to Alyosha concerning his brother Dmitri: ""Tate the monster, . . . I ha@the monst-erl X don't want to save the monster, let him rot at hard labor! He's singing a h p n f " "(65 These mrds of Ivads occur at the end of his o m "three torments"-his visits to SmerdyAov,during which his mmpliciq in h e parricide is gradudy unveded; but his journey represents a contrastkg movement of "tmtY to Miva's, Miva is pubEcly a a u a d of a murder he did not commit;, even as he discovers &at he has not murdered Grigory and is &erefore not legally a 'hurderer,'Wiqa, however, recopizes his murderous heart and takes free responsibility. for it in a full, life-changing confession that leads him to accept the path of sugering love, Xvan, by contrast, who has reserved h11 latitude for murderous hatred in his "wishes" 043,611), is brought face to face with his actual compliciq in h e murderous deed in his meetings with Smerdyakav-at the end of which he too has a dream, not of a " w e one" or ofUGn;tof CaNee,""but a "nightmare" of'%hedevil." His has been a very different spkitud journey; The visitation by &e devil in Ivan's appoalwtic dream is a fitthg parody of John's vision, e soul, The devil "comes down" to Ivan; and yet it and it represents Ivan's s ~ t of would seem that Ivan has "alled him up" as his worst side, his inner illness. m e r m s Myasha's and Miqak salvific V"fsions resurrect them in jo+l worship of d i ~ n truh e after they have died to themselves in conkssioxl, Xvan's hellish. ni&tmare plunges him hrther into despair and mental illness. In Ivan's third and final meeting with Smerdyakov, during wkrkh Smexdpkov accuses Ivan of being the "main killer" of his father (6231, Ivan expresses h e fearfin1 hope h a t this is all a dream or that Smerdyakov is in fact a ghost. Srnerdyakov replies, "There" na ghost, sir, besides the m o of us, sir, and some third one.'"hirj mediating "thircl""that exists " " b ~ e e n ""an and Smerdyakov"is God, sir, Pravidence itseg, sir, it's right here with us now, sir, only don't look for it, you won't find it," Indeed, the mediating presence (to faith) of loving divine Providence is replaced by its absence-the cold, murderous fear of the devil. Xn Ivan's nightmare this chilling presence is articulated by the shabby liberal "qpoger"of a devil in the language of modern scientific msmobg. The living spiritual-and inhexently moral-cosmos envisioned by Zosima (as well as Alyosha and Mitya) is here replaced by freezing, dark, dead space and h e externall motion of material objects in a morally neutral universe, Here the calculations of movement with reference to the sun a n be replaced (in a humorous adaptation of a machre folktale) by the ""Pising and setting of the me" 640); thus, the navel's central reli-

gious s p b o l radiating warmth and light is replaced by a humanly made instrument for chopping, splintering, and destro*g, There is a double cosmological reduction in this parody of the devil. The first is that the sun is no longer a material symbol representing a higher, divine, and spiritual light; it is here but a physical object." The second, aUowed for by the first, is the replacement of a divinely created thing sigaieing benevolent purposes by a humanly fashioned artifad, here s i p i k a g destructiw purposes. Spiritual causaliv and the notion. of providence are not simply cosmologial visions or theories, These cosmic powers and movements are dosely related to movements of soul and their worldly mediation in human relationships, The chilting demonic ""bond" b m e e n Ivan and his "doublem-his illegitimate halfbrother born the same year, of tfie same father-is wident early on. ksiving for home after his conversation with AXyosha about "The Grand Inquisitor," Ivan expaiences a sudden, unbearable, andefinable anguish in his soul that grows worse as he gets closer to home. It seems to be rdated to something external, and as he approaches his father's house "he at once realized what w s tormenting and w r ryirrg him soB-Smerdyakov: "Ivan Fyodorovich redked at the first sight of him that the lackey Smerdyakov wills also sitting in his soul, and that it wm precisely this man that his soul could not bear" "(266). The special. interest Ivan at first takes in Smerdyakov, finding him entertainingly origjlnal in ph2osophical and religious discussians, quicuy turns to an intense loathing. In their conversations, it becomes clear ta Ivan that Smerdyakov is interest& in something more than ideas, and a certain ""boudless vanitf appears, accompanied by a growing "f~ath~ome and peculiar familiarity;""as if Smerdy&ov considers the two of them as somehow "in league." Despite this, perceiving that Smerdyakov wants to have a "special conversation,""Ivaa stops to talk with him. m a t follsws is the indirect discussion of signals and plans having to do with the possible murder of Fyodor) a strange conversation punaua.t-gdwith Ivan" exclamations, ""How the devil!;""" m a t the devill," and "Devil take puf" These two intelligent men share a common, loathsome understanding in their souls-a shared desire, which Ivan tries to hide and projects onto the "double" that mediates it to him, but to which he is equally bound by inner intention. I)).the end of their third meeting, Ivan has had to face this desire: "Gad knows .. .perhaps I, too, was guilty, perhaps I really had a secret desire that my father .. . die" "(631). He resolves that together he and Smerdyakov will confess to the court the next day. Upon leaving, his tormenting hesitations about how to testi% in court have 1eEe him, ""1 was as if a sort of joy now descended into his soul, He felt an infinite firmness in hinrzse1-f"(633). His newfound resolve equips him to perform a "Good Samaritan" deed (albeit for a peasant that he himself has earlier beaten), and this awareness gives him inner delight. At that moment he is

stopped by a sudden question: "And shouldn't I go to the prosecutor ri&t now at once and tell him ever$ing?" He resolves the question negatively: "Tomorrow . . . ."And immediately his joy vanishes, to be replaced by an icy reminder of something loathsome and tormenting in his room-the devil. This scene portrays Dostoevsky"~recurrent theme that faith requires immediate obedience if it is to take root, Delay reinforces the division and sattering of the divided conscience.s@ Ivan's devil identifies himself by a parody of the divine name reveslled in Revelation-""Xm the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end" "(a; 21:6; 22:13)-when he says: ""Im an X in an indeterminate equation, f am some sort of ghost of life who has lost all ends and beginnings, and I've finally even forgotten what to all myseEm(642),s"he devil is also described as "a sort of sponger;"" parasitic, isolated, and a dreamer, His power lies purely in negation, In each of these ways he represents the opposite of the divine being who actively. creates what is good "out of nothing? who seeks to restare to the community of love all who are faflen and isolated, and who acts in the world to do so. The devil's ''redism" parodies God"s-Ivan identifies the devil as the opposite of the real truth: "You are a lie, you are my illness, you are a ghost. . . .You are my hallucination. You are the embodiment of nrzyself, but of just one side of me . . .of my thoughts and feelings, but only the most loathsome and stupid of them" 637). The vision ends with the devil reminding Ivan of another of his literaq creations, "The Geological Cataclysm," in which Ivan specul-;tteson the anthropologial consequences of a modern scientific apocalypse~amely~ the appearance of a "new man" (quite diEerent from Dmitri"~)in whom the slwish, tormenting, and violent idea of Gad has been destroyed, making possible the emergence of a titanic, nature-conquering "man-god"": "Man, his will and his science no lonhfer limikd, mnquering nature evev hour, will thereby every hour experience such lofty delight as will replace for him d his former hopes of heavenly defight, Each will h o w himself utterly mortal, without resurrection, and will accept death proudly and almly, like a god" 649). This new man-gad will be able ta leap lightheartedly over the moral obstacles of the old "sXave-man," enjoying the freedom of godlike autonomy, the ""a1is permitted," Yet it is clear in the novel that the tormenting question of conscience cannot be resolved in such a manner: This kind of freedom is alienated, a freedom divided against itself and its own consciousness, wkrkh is never truly independent but always in relation, Ivan dtvells in division, the division b e ~ e e nhis heart (his "pts;""his erotic love of life, the order of desire in the will) and his head (logic,Euclidean reason, which will take its own measures on the basis of "fads"). Such freedom canna integrate itself, and ends up in rebellion against the order of things as well as its Orderer, upon whom created human freedom is in fact de-

pendent for its measure and Eulfillment. This willful turning away from God requires the invention of a new order, a ""second realiqJ"hat confirms the new selfcentered orientation of the will, This second reality is a parody of the truth, QZiver Q'Donovan nicely describes the same dpamic with reference to Milton's portrayal of Satan in Paradise Lost: Satan's absolute and irrepwable rejeaion of God becomes, hMilton's trmment, a reprmentatioxlof what man is ultimately capable of doing-not wi&in the confines of time, of course, but eschatoZogially. . . .The famous line which Milton puts on Sat;am"slips, 'Evil, be thou my good!' pededly apwres the double movement of the soul which is the essence of the Satanic gesture: in the first place, the coxlwlsive turning of the will ta evil in place of the good which is its natturd orientation;in the second place the veiling of the reaXiv of evil under the guise of

Dostoevsb depicts this conhsion of soul in The Brothers Karamazov with reference to another classic, Goethe's Firusl; in which Mepbistopheles identifies himself to Faust as the one who desires evil but does only good. "Well: says Ivads devil, "it's quite the opposite with me,""and yet his role keeps the reconciling good a secret, and ""until the secret is revealed, truths exist for me: one is theirs, from there, and so far completely unhown to me; the other is mine." This too is Ivan's '%umble confession" to tayosha: the eartuy human mind a n n o t comprehend the secret of God's goodness and divine justice; hence "while I am on earth, I hasten to take my own measures" (24Q). We shall examine in Chapter 6 the kind of politics in which such ""tberal humility" ewntuates. Here, as tve are focusing on the personal, individual level, let us take a closer look at the courtroom "confession" it evokes horn Ivan. The devil has taunted Zvan about confessing the truth in the courtroom even though he doesn? believe in conscience or in virtue except as sociay contruded conventions, "Yadre going out of pride;""the devil tells Ivan, and in order to be praised for virtue in which he does not befieve. This is the source of Ivan3sanger, The confession portrays this mind-set. Immediately after tersely sating on the sand that Smerdyakov Elled their father on instructions from him, Ivan asserts, " m o doesxxk wish for his father" death?" A pre-Freudian slip? In response, an inadvertent comment slips horn the judge, "Are you in your right mind'?"Ivan" rxeponse: "The thing is that I'm precisely in my right mind . . . my vile mind, the same as you. . . . Everyone wants his father dead. Viper devours viper" 686). Ivan's vile mind is rooted in his proud, egaistic ""freedom" and his unGllingness to rnalce a penitent confession. Ivan continues to want, as the narrator puts it at the beginning of the chapter entitled "The Devil;""to ""vindicslte himself to himself" (635). He is hardened, like the father be has helped kill out of vengehl hatred, and yet

he remains tormented by his self-enclosed conscience-"the all to the unity of man with himself:" as Bonhoeffer puts it.53 This cdl comes from beyond the self and beyond the law, and only in obedient response to it is the self Lfberated to act. One other allusion to the book of Revelation remains for discussion: the reference to the heavenly Jerusalem with which the novel ends. This image is the dramatic culmination of the contrast developed earXier in the novel b e ~ e e nthe nice litrle bourvois family Karamazov, broken d o m by neglect and isolation, violent rivalry and parricide, and the family Snegiryov, which despik its affliction by poverty, illness, and ignomirry, images a higher moral order of love-a; family from which, as Ayosha informs the arrogant and precocious Kolya, one can learn to h o w the good and be "remade" "(556). Of particular impor~nceare the events surrounding the death of I b s h a Snegiqov, which becomes the focal point for the redemp.t-jvemessage taught by Alyosha in the concluding pages of the novel, 3%elove bemeen fa&er and son is movirrgly displayed in the mchange folXowirzg their realintian that Ilpsha will die, Xlpsha implores his father to find another boy to love as his own son, and yet not to forget him, to visit his gave. The father responds with a remembered biblical image: "If I forget thee, 8Jerusakm, let my tongue cleave . . . " "(562). The reference is to Psalm 137, the lament for lost Jerrtsdem by Israelites held in BabyIonian cvtivity, expressing their longing to return to the city ruled by God and to be established in freedom and peace. In the navel this image is clearly linked via "memory eternay (776776) to the hope of the consummation of all. precious loves in the new Jerusdem described in Revelation 21. The novel ends with the community of children, transhrmed from the pattern of strict, retributiive jusdce founded by the dictatorial Kolya and modeled on the Inquisitor" parodic use of miracle, mystery, and authority, to a community founded upon humble love. The transformation occurs through the mediation of ~ in humble wisdom, the hero of the novek MyoshaJsChris&ke a u t h o r i ~rooted punaures vanity and the cleverness that parodies spiritual authority. At the end of the novel, in the epilogue, Kolya accepts dyasha as the founder of a truer spiritual community, one that can accept the ""ttanaturaXmconjundions of the Christian religious vision, In his parting ""Speech at the Stone" on the occasion of Ilpsha's hneral, Alyosha, addresses the boys on the truth of existence as revealed by the slain and resurreaed Lamb, which joins in a lik-giving union what seems so opposed: unjust suffer;ing and the joy of Zik, pain and yet praise of creation as it is. Kolya remarh: "It's all so strange, Karamazov, such pief, and then pancakes fbfiny] all of a sudden!" "73). It bears notice that in the ""Seech at the S ~ n e ; in "" which dyasha names the virtues that he implores &em all to remember, justice is not mentioned. Juslice is lefk to God; it is not wihin human power or preragat&. Given the primacy of the theme of justice in the novel, the implication is

that these other virtues-~ndness, generosiv, honesv, courage, humility, and above all love-will replace the reign of retributiw justice (and its alienating claims) with the all-forgiving, reconciling harmony of restorative justice th& looks for its authority to the slain Lamb and for its hlfillnnent to the heavenly Jerusdenn,

Notes 1. See George Steher, ?"ohtoy or Dostoyevsky: An Essay in the Old Crigcism (NWErork: Penguirs, 19591, chapter 4, 2. See EZfuce K. Ward, Dost~yevs@)$ Crit7'que ofthe West: The Quest for the Earthly Paradise (Waterloo, Ont,: WiL&id tatzrier Uiniversit-y Press, 19861, chap. 4; and EUis Sandoz, Political Apocalypse: A Smdy of Dostoevsk-y's Grand Inquisitor (Baton Rouge: Louisiana State Univtrsiv Press, 1971),chap. 5, 3. See, for example, Sandoz, Polit7'calApocalypse. The title leads one to expect an Wensive analysis of qocalyptic symbols in ""The Grand Xnquiisitor: including those t&en from the book of Rwelation (Sandoz promises as much on p. 841, Mowever$aside ikom a few brief references (e,g., pp. 88-89,135, lf?l),the compXa substance and inkrpretive irnpliations of the vmbolic parallels are left unexplored. See also Roger L, Cox, Beween Earth and He~ven:Shakespeare, Dostoevsky and the Meaning of Christl"an Tragedy (NW York Holt, Rinebart m d Mrinston, 19691,chaps. 8,9; Bruce K. Ward, "Dostoevsky a d the Problem of Meaning in EJ&ory:" in Dostoevsky and the Twentl;et.h Century, ed. Malcolm V; Jones fNottin&am, U.K.: Astra, 19941, pp. 49-65. For evidence that D o s ~ ~ closely ~ v s stu&ed ~ the book of Revelation, see Geir Kyetsaa, Dostoewky and He's New Testament (Atlantic Highlands, ItS.J,: Humanities Press, 1984). 4, Paul S, Minear, "The Cosmolol5y of the Apocalypse:" in Current Issues in NW Testament Interpretation, eds. W. Klassen and G. Snyder f New York Harper and Rows1962),pp. 23-37.. 5. We see the same division represented in Ivan's Inquisitor, whose response to Christ's silent kiss at the end of the hquisitor's monolope is described by Ivan thus: "The kiss burns in, his heart, but the old man hoZds to his former idea""ES4], 6, This view of he11 is given substmce in the "Talh and Homilies" of Father asima: "Farhers and teachers, X ask myxlf: ' m a t is hell?' h d I answer thus: The suEering of being no longer able to 1ove;""Bsima goes on to relate this to the parable of rhe rich man and hzams (322E). The implication is that Ivan, like the rich man, win despise the gift of acgve love as exemplified in the su@erirxglove of Christ. We will dash the cup of l i ~ n wag ter to the ground and suffer eternal thirst for resurre&ed love-ut of prideful rebellion, "Thetorment of punishment h not esernal, but inner-it is willhi and resides in, the conscience (see the diawosis by AIyosha, 655). 7. This h evidexlt.in 1va's impassioned speech in, the chapter "Rebelhon": "I need retribution, othemise 1wifl destroy myself*And retribution not somewhere and sometime in infinity, but here and now on earth, so that X see it myself, . . .Xs it possible that 1% suffered so that I, together with my evil deeds and sagerings, should be manure for someone else's &mtu harmony?""'E. understand solidariky in sin among men; solidariv in retribution X aha understand; but what solidarity in sin do little children have? And if it is really true that they, too, are in sofidarit-ywith thBr fathers in all their fathers?evildoings, that

tmth certainly is not of h i s w r l d and is incomgrehensilbSe to me" ( 2 4 ) . SmerdyAov picks up on the personal, patricidal indipation in Ivan's othemise detached, intellectual formulation, which Ieads to the conclrtsioa?that if there is no God or immortdity, then there is no such thing as virtue, and "all is permit-tg (69,134,632,649). 8. The elder asirna addresses this as well: "Xf the wickedness of people arouses hdignation and insurmountable grid in you, to the point that you desire to revenge yourself upon the wicked, fear that feeling most of all" (321). The only remedy for wickedness is sufiring, servliflg love that dies to vengehl self-assertion. 9. See Rwelation 155-4; f 6:5-7; 19~2;cf. 4r 1I, 5:9, 10. See Richard A. Pasner, Law and Literaare, revised ed, (Cmbridge: Hamard Unixrsit-y Press, 19981, pp. 173-178, Posner state, "Tke Brothers firamamv impllies criticism of law, but criticism that has less to do with the particulars of Russim crimhal justia than with the very idm of semlar justise" (Ibid., p, 176). 2 1, Mbert Camus, The Rekl: An Essay on Man in Revolt, trans, A, Bower (New York: b o p f , 1956),p. 23. 22. "Then I turned to see the voice that tvas qeakhg to me, and on t-urning I saw w e n golden lampstands, and in the midst of the Iampstands one like a son of man, clarlred with a long robe and with a pZdea girdle round his breast; his head and his hair were white as white wool, Mlhite as snow; his eya were like a flame of fire, his feet m r e like burnished bronze, refined as in a fitrnace, and his voice was like the sound of m a y waters; in his right hand he held seven stars, Erom his mouth issued a sharp WO-edvd sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strengh"" (Revelation 1:12-f S), JoMs vision of the heavenly Christ locates the latter "in the anidst" of the earthly churches (lmpstaxzds), but in his "dorified"" and not his earthly state. Hence John is not "drawnn to him by quiet charisma-"Men I saw him, X fell at his feet as though deaC (1:f 7). 13. G. B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John ltze Dhirte (New York: Harper and Row3 19661, p. 301, Elseurkere Caird says about the genre of apocalyptic eschatoZogy: ""Bodd and others have spoken of eschatofom as though it %re conerned with flte eschaton, fhe final event, that beyond which nothing a n conceivably happen. About an eschalron J o h has nothing to say. Instead he intraduces us to a person who says, 'l am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.?m e n w e r in the course of time men, and w m e n come face to face, tvhether for judgement or for salvation, with him who is the beginning m d the end, that event c m be adequatek v i e d only throu& the lenses of m@ and eschatology""(G, B, Caird, The L a n g u a ~and Inragev of the Bible [London, U.K.: Duchorfh, 19801, p, 271). My interpretation of Revelation is heavily indebted to ntary, cited above. I am also relimt upon Richard B a u c b m , The neology of lrhe h o k of RmeEation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993);I'Bern, The Climax ofProphev: Studies on the Book ofRevelation (Edinburgh, t),K,: T. and "K Clark, 1992); Austin Farrer, A Rebirh of Images: The Making of St. John"l;pocaEypse (Boston: Beacon Press, 1949);idem, The Rewela~onofSt; John the Divine (Odord: Clarendon Press, 1964);and G. R. Beasliey-Murray;The Book ofbievelcrdon (Grand Rapik, Mich,: W3lim B, krdmans, 1924). 14. Richard Bauc&am states: "Rwelation tvas desiped for oral enadment hChristian worship services (cf. 1:3). Its egea would therefore be somewhat comparable to a dramadc performawe, in which the audience enter the world of the drama for its duration and cm have heir perception of the world outside the d r m a powerhliy shifted biy their experience of the world of the drama" ( / R e ReoZogy ofthe Book ofaevelation [Cambridge:

Cmbri+e Universitry Press, 19931, p. IQ).See also D. L, Barr, "The Apocalypse of John as Oral Enadment:" Ineevretaeion 40 (1986;): 243-256. 15. Cdrd, Rmelation, p. 292. IS, See the words of Jesus in John f 2, the chapter from which the epigraph to 172e k taken: "Haw is the judgement of this world, now shall the ruler of this world be cast out; and I, when I m lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself" (John 12~31-(132).See also the discussion in Chapter 6. 17. Far an interesting recent refiection on the importance of the Apocalypse for a renew1 and mension of contemporary Orthodox liturgical practice, see Petros Vassiliadis, ""~pcdypse and Liturm:" S& mirWheoEogicaE Quarterly 4112-3 f 1997): 95-1 12, He arpes that the Sanc&s, the heavedy warship hymn in Revelation 4:8 taken from the temple vision and cdling of Isaiah fS:1-31, far &om "de-historicking" Chris~ianwrship or separating it from worldly realities, rmeals the true relation b e ~ e e heavenly n and earthly lituru. Liturgial form (hymns, prayers, images, and symbols) unveils the true meaning of history and pditical order-not only theoretialfy but in the practices it fosters. See also T. F. Tarrmce, "Gturgie et Apocdypse:' Verburn Caro 11 (6957): 2840. 18, Vigen Guroian, Ethics A f i r Gristendan?: Toward an Ecckesial Chfisti~n Ethic (Grand Rapids, Mich.: WilZiam B. Eerdmans, 199.41, p. 47, See alsa idem, Incarnate Love: Essays in Orthsdm Elihics (Notre Dame, hd.: University- of Notre D m e Press, 196371, clzzlps, 1,3. 19, bsitively: in imns, most significantly in dyosha's chilaood iconic memory of his mother, Sophia, on "a quiet summer wening, an open window the slanting rays of the setting sun (these slmting rays he remembered most of all), an icon in the corner of the room, a lighted oil-hmp in &ant of it, and before the icon, on her bees, his moher, sobbing as if in hysterics, with shriek and cries, seking him in her arms, hugging him so tighfly that it hurt, and pleading for him to the Mother of God, holding him out &om her embrace with both arms towards the icon, as if under the proteaion of the Mother of God""(19); in hymns, such as Mitya's "tragic hymd7to God from the underground, which elebrates the "whde of Xifie" Sluminate&by the divine sun, even if one can't see it f 592); in the visions of ATyosha md Mitya; and in various other lit-urgial seaings, formd (as in elder Zosha's sea& chamber) and informal fftlyosha's speech to the boys at flte stone). Negatively: in Fyodor2sabusix spiEing on Sophia's icon, in order to "hock this mysticism out of her" "(137); in Smerdyakov's secret sacrilegious rites ("as a child he was fond of hanging cats and burying them with ceremomyn;see 1241, and his piting up of imagm without memory or insight (12G127); in the m n y empty, romantic dream referred to in the novel (tellingb,also the devil, who appears in Ivm's drem, says ""Tove to dream: and his dream "is to become incarnate, but so that it's final, irrevocable, in some fat, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound merchant's wife? and to believe everything she believes"; see 638439); and in Ferapont's ascetic posturings. 20, This is symbolized in Revelation 11, in the vision of the measuring of the temple: John is told to measure only the inner sanctuary, not the outer court, which is "dven over to the ndions" (11:2). True security from the destruaive ravages of evil is to be found in the inner spiritual realm, not the outer realm of the body This theme is pemasive in the Johandne literature, 21. The theme of the devil as Iiar and dewiver is also common to the Jahannine literature (cf. John 8:42-47; X John 2:18-27; 3:4f,). At the root of evil sits a lie, which distofls the meaning of human reladonships to one another and to God by misrepresentingthe truth about the created order,

22. The reader here recalls Ivan's confession at the beginning of h e chapter entitled "Rebellion:" rhat ""Xever could understmd how it's possible to love one's neighhors,""and krther: "In my ophion, Christ's love for people is in its k n d a miracIe impossible on earth. True, he w a God. But we are not gods"" (236237). The ""Xve for humanity" that Ivan comes to endorse at the end of the chapter is rooted in retribution that takes place in this worid. 23. Cf. Caird, Reverladon, p. 85f.; Besley-PJlurray, Book oftitewrladon, pp. 136-137, 24. Baucbam, The Theolop ofthe Book offlevehtt'an, p, 84%. 25. Ivan states that Christ was God but we ordinary human behgs are not god+suffering is humiliating and demeaning, and herefore both suffering and the relief of suffering should be kept faceless and out of sight: "It's still possble to love one's neighbor abstractly, and even occasionally from a distmce, but haray ever up close, If it w r e all as it is on stage, in a ballet, where beiggars, when they appear, come in siken rags and tattered lace and ask for alms dancing gracefully, well, then it would still be possible to admire them. To admire, but still not to love" (237). Ivan here mimics the words and ideas of the senthental ""l* of little faith,""Madame Khofilkov (56E). 25. See R e d Girard, Deceit, Desire, and the Novel: Sevand Other in Liltemry Strumre, trans. Y. Frecero (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Uiniversit-y Press, 1955), especially chap. 11; idem, Resrxrrect-ionfrom the Unhrground: Feodor Dostoevsky, ed. and trans, JamesWgliams f New Erork: Crossmad, 1997). 27. Gbard, Resurrectl"onfi#m the Unhrground, p. 147, 28, StructuralIy, rhe novel begins with "a nice little family" {pt. 1, bk, I), whose rivdrous and discorhat character is reveafed at "an inappropriategathering" in the monastery (bk 2) and in an egoistic sensuality fbk 3, entitled ""Smualists,""shows the underpound intensit-y of mimetic erotic rivalries b e ~ e e nFyodor, Dmitri, and Ivan). This dpamic culminates h past 2, book 1,which is entitled "%rainsmor "Lacerations" (in Russian, N g d v , from the root rvat', meaning "to rend, tear, split*strain, lacerate?"" and which depias a misted response to bene&&received, a pewersion of gratitude due to the pridekl sense of one's own honor and the fear of appearing base or ignoble, tied to various forms of oEense and revenge (see Robert Belkaap, The Seucture of The Brothers h r a m Mauton, 19671, p. 47). "The Grand Inquisitor'' "k, 5, chap. 5) is the EulX-blown prwhecy of this divided, isolated, demonic consciousness. Ivan2sGod is a pr4ection of the qotistic& underground consciousness-increasiq his glory &rough rhe dependent suffering of others, Ivan's lament in the "Rebdlion" chapter leading up to "The Grand Inquisitor" shows the egotistical existential root: " h e e d retribution, othemise 1 will destroy myseg, , , I s it possible &at I"ve suEered so that I, together with my evil deeds and sugerings should be the manure of someone" s t a r e harmoxly?" @W4), 29. Paul Rieaeur, "FaPlterhood: From Phantasm to Symbol:" in The Confzict oflzlkpreta~ons:Essays in Hermeneut-ics, ed. B, Ihde (Evanston, Ill,: Morthwatern Universiv Press, 19742, pp. 468-497. 30. I am here conflating Ricoeur" Freudian ps)rchoanalpic aaount and Girarcs account, which is cridcaX of Freud (see especially Girard, Things Hidden Since $hiheFounda$ion of &e World, chap. 4); but I believe that Ricoeur" use of the Freudian categories, such as the Oedipus complex in relation, to fatherhood, is more relational and %tynamic-less r8fied-than Freud's own, and hence that Ricoeur is close to Girard on this poht,

31. The educative didectic for Hegel, Ei-coeurpaints out, is not father and son (rooted ediary) but master and Jave, which gives rise to social self-consciousness of socidly mediated roles, and which gives rise atsa to contractual and property relations, 'This is dearly at issue in Umitrik confiict with Fyodor over inheritancle matters, and it is tortuously present in Fyodork relation to Smerdyakov, at once both lackq and bastard son, 32. Ricocrur, "Fatherhood,""p, 48% 33, Lover of mankind is a common Brt.hodox IimrgicaI phrase describhg Christ. 34. We are told several times by the narrator that the conversation with Ivan about justice and the Grmd Xnqukitar has caused Alyosha to forget his broher Dmitri, to Mlhom the dder Zosima has aplicitly commissioned him (254,285,339,342). 35, The meaning of the phrase wild chasrily is important: For Dostoevsky, as for monastic and mystic& C h r i s t i ~ qmore generally; chastity cannot be uderstood as the mere restraint of eros or desire (as in. the virtue of moderation), To the contrary, it is a heightening of erotic tension in the higher passion of faith, whose consu cosrnk orientation and a divine focus. 36. "Water the earth with your t.earsmis often repeated by the eldel; who mlues the "g& of tears:" tears of penitence and tears of ecstatic joy, which caug the earth to bring forth fruit, This stands in contrast to Ivan's sad reference to the bitter tears of hard human suffering "that have soaked the whole earth througfi, from crust to core,""or the tears of h p terical, strained o u t b r e h of emotion that punctuate the relatiom of distorted and demonic desire b e ~ e e nthe novel's characters. 37, See Dime Qenning Thompson's superb dkcussioxl of this "iconic triptych" in. The Brothers Karamdzov and the Poetics of Mmory (Cmbridge: Cambridge fJniversif-)rPress, 19911, p, 293f. 38. Aly-oshzx here eweriences within his own soul what elder a s i m a has taught: "My friends, ask gladness ffom God. . . .And let man's sin not dismrb you in your efforts. . . . Flee from such despondency, my children! There is only one salvation for you: take yoursdf up, and make yoursdf responsible for all the sins of mm. For indeed it is so, my kiend, and the moment you make yourself sinwrely responsible for evemhing and eveqone, you will see at once that it is reauy so, that it is you who are guaq on behalf of all and for all, Wereas by shifting your own laziness and powerlessness onto others, you will end by sharing in Satan's pride and murmuriq against God. , , .But on earth we are indeed warn&ring, as it tvere, and did we not have the precious image of Christ behre us, we vvould perish and be altoge&er bst. . . .Much on earth is concealed .from us, but in piam of it we have been grmted a secret, mysterious sea= of our living bond wi& the orher wrfd, with the higher heavedy world, and the roots of our rhctughts and feelings are not here but in other worlw (320). 39. Earlier Mitya says of his distorted rivalrous relations to his fa&er: ""Ibeeve in a miracle , . .of divine Providene, God h o w my heart, he s e e all my despair, He sees the d o l e piaure. Can, he allow horror to happen?wosha, I believe in a miracle" "2 1).h t e r he tells his interrogators that in that moment, watching his father from the garden, "the devil tvas overcome" in his heart, perhaps due to someone%tears or his mo&er's prayers f 472)-mother reference to the spiritual causaliq that perndes the novel, 40. There is a p o d discussion of this in Helen CmniE de Alvarez, The Atrgustr'nian Basis c?fDostoevsfcy"se Brothers Kat-amamv (unpublisfned dissertation, University of Dallas, 1977),p. 47f,

41. MiQa's life is characterized by precise@such tempestuous cctnflicb of desire. Earlier in the novel his strained erotic-hmic rdationship to the proud Petersburg society girl Katrya has evoked similar duality-he l~ves,admires, and despises this woman ( 1 14). m e n he treats her with honorabfe gmerosiq-even as she mpeds a base, coerced seduction-thus coercing her moral love, he &am his sword and contemplates stabbing birnsdf on the spot "from a certain h d of ecstasy Do you understand that one can Ell oneself from a cerzain End of asmy?'' (l 15). This is tragic romantic love, and Mitya h o w s its dduajity; he describes it with eloquence in his rommdc confession to Alyosha: " h m t to teU you now about the "insects," about those to whom God gave sensuali~. . . f am that very insect, brother. . . . And ail of us Karamazovs are like that, and in you, an angel, the same insect lives and stirs up storms in your blood. Storms, because semsualit)l is a storm, more than a storm! lleauq is a fearful and terrible thing! Fearhl because it's sdefinable, and it cmnot be defined, because here God gave us only riddles. Here the shores converge, here all cantradictions live togetlrer, . . . Beauty! . . . X cadr bear it &at some man, even with a lofty harp: and the hi@est d, should start km the ideal of the Madonna and end with the ided of Soelom. . . .No, man is broad, wen too broad, f vvould narrotv him down, . . . The terrible thing is that beauty is not only fearEul but mysterious, Here &e devil h grugglillg with God, and the batdefield h the human heart. But, m y a y , why kick Miva's confession parallels his brorlrer lvan's, tkough Mi~a's against the prick?" "W8), t&es an aesthetic form (beauty) rather than a moral form (justice), Both brothers b l m e God for m&ng man too broad, too free, too responsibje, and without clear enough diredions for how to use that nature, The strusle is more &m human beings can bear; one cannot btame them for failing, 42. See the discmsium in mompson, The Brothers Karclmdzov and the Poetics o f M m ory, p. 2756, 43. Grusheda's open-heafled love in response to MiQa's open and freeing gest-ure of love toward her (be brings gi&sto celebrate her rwnian with the Polish suitor) also constituta a crucial turning point far Mitya. As he Xater fells Alyosha, ""Bfore it was just her infernal curves that fretted me, btrt now I've taken her whole soul into my soul, and through her I've become a man!" "(59. 44, Mikya's response to the news that Grigory is alive is passionate as ever: "dive? So he's alive! . . . Lord, X t h a d you for this greatest n;tiracle, which you have done for me, a sinner and an e~ldoer,according to my prayer!" (458); "Oh, thank you, gmtlemen! Oh, how you've restored, how you've resurreaed me in. a momencl. . . ! That old man . . . he was my own fa&er . . . !" f $59). I S . From the beghing, Mitya's relations with Katya are enmeshed in the desire for revenge for her h a ~ n gsnubbed him ( 1 1 1, 1 13-1 14). Miva's horrible "stunt:" and the increasingly tangled ""underground" responses it triggers in himself, Katya, Ivan, and Grusheda, is a stzxpendous cycle of gridehl, compulsively seXEdestmc~veaction; and its consequences reverberate to the end of the novel, Of course>MMi~sya'sstunt work because of Gtya's awn pride and her desire to "save" Mitya &am his baseness ( 1 16, 147) and his shame at his baseness: "I mean, Iet him be ashamed before eveTone and before hhseilf, but let him not be ashamed before me. 3% God he says everyhfng without being ashamed. Why, then, does he stiEX not h o w how much T a n endure for him?my,why does he not h o w me, how dare he not h o w me aAer all that has happened? X vvant to save him forever? Mitya sees through this noble love-""she loves her own virtue, Rat me"; hence Ka~a'srage at her impotence in the erotic rivalq wan by the "faUen'%rushe&, As Mitya

realizes early on, "there's a trqedy here" (129). The tragedy is rooted in the proud selfenclosure of fallen deske-the wish to hide one's own baseness wen while everyone else's is transparent to oneself. Tt is flte desire for flte goctlge control and mediation of relationships wi&out reference to God, that is, without true penitence of the open heart and the humble love that semes freely. 46, See W. M. S h o & article on Claude Bernard (1813-1878) in TStle EnycZopedz'a of Phibsoph~vol. 2 (New York: Macmillan, 29671, p. 304. 47. The elder prophesies this as well, in his response to TvaA idea: "This idea is not yet resalved fn your h a r t and torments it. . . .The question is not resolved in you, and there lies your great griefl far it urgenPfy deman& resoludon. .. .Even if it cmnot be resolved in a positive way, it win nwer be resolved in the negative way either-you yoursdf h o w this properq of your heart, and therein lies flte whde of its torment" (70). Tn rhe same meeting be prophaies Miqa3sgreat &&re sugering (74,2851, and c issions Alyosha for "a great obedience in the wrld""(77). We explore this h ~ h e in r Chapter 6. 48, This is =pressed in a chapter near the end of the novel, enti~ed"For a, Moment the Lie Became Tm.tft:"where Hyosiba engages in. "Jesuitic" ethics in order to ease Mitya's conscienm about rhe escape plan, but ir doesn't work (762f.1,)"Anorlzer escape phn, a medicallegal one, h sugesled by Madame fioM&ov, who as a result of the scandal surrounding the elder's death has given up her "little faitE.l""for modern mathematical realism (3845.). Her plan is to stage a "legal fit of passion" far which the new courts, on medicd evidenm, ""Eor&veeve@ingB-""i's a blessing of the new courts" f 577)-Moral responsibility a d crimind causality are here determined acmrding to the codes and procedures established by the authorities of natural modern reason, the "Bernards." See Chapter 6. 49, Cf. the crude literalism in Smerdy&ov"s interpretation of the Genesis story of creation that so befuddles old Grigory (124). 50. In this case the delay is crucial, because Smerdy&ov commits suicide fltat night, reaelering Tvan's mnfession the next day virtuauy impossible and unbelievable. 5 1. Note Hann& Arendt's comment on modern historical consciousness, which fomsm on the process of history (its ""dvelopment" and "'progress" rooted in the conditions and events or ""hppenings'kf humm action), raher than its exemplary drmatic paEerns (as in the dassical historiography of Augusthe, far =ample, in which the patterns of spiritud causali-ty that illurnislie the source and end of human life-not the chronological ampitation of eventeare offered for imitation): "The history of rna into an infinite past to whicb we can add at wiU anet into which we can inquire hr&er as ir stretches ahead into an infinite Euture, This ftn~ofoldinfinity of past and hmre eliminates ajl notions of beginning and end, establiishfng mankind in a potential eartihly i ity. . . . So far as secular history is mncerned we live in a process which h a w s no beginning and no end md wkch thus does not permit us to entertain eschatologicd apectations" (""Te Concept of Histov? in Bemeen Past and Fuhdre: Eight Exrcises in Politbl Thought [NewYork: Penguin, 1968],68), 52. Oliver OWonovan, Resumel"ian and Moral Qrdar (Grand Rapieis, Mich.: WiIliarn B. Eerdmans, 1986),p, 111, 53, Bietrich Bonkoeffer, Ethics? ed. E. Betbge ( M m Ui)rk: Macmillian, 1955), p, 24, We return to the question of conscience in Chapter 6.

five

"Do You Despise or Love Humanity You, Its Coming Saviors. 3'3"

Since Dostoevsky wrote fie Brot.hers Karamazov, we have had a century of learning in what Paul Ricoeur has dubbed the ""school of suspicion;""whose master teachers are Freud and Nietzsche. The critique of religious faith advanced 'by this school has taught theologians and philosophers of rdigion to ask: m a t is the reXigous meaning of atheism? If we turn ta Dostoevsws literary art-and especially me Brothers Karamazov-in the light of this question, we a n see, first, that he anticipated it. Furthermore, what his art has to say about religious faith to our postreiigious age might be more clearly heard if there is a shift of focus, away from the usual either-or struauring of the religious problematic to the dialecticsll nature of the relaion b e ~ e e nfaith and atheism. In other words, we must give serious attention to Dostoevskbr)~own assertion that his Christian fai& was "forged in the crucible of doubtm-an assrzrtion that is not only autobiographicalbut also theollogicaL The rdating of Dostoevsky"~art to the modern hermeneutics of suspicion can be mutually fiuminating. Let us begin with ficoeur's explanation of the nature *The title of this &apter is a question posed by Dostaevslky in a getter of 11 June 1879 to N&alai. A. Lyubirnov, The entire letter can be found in Fyodor Dostoevsky, Colllplete Lettersp vol. 5: 1878-1881, ed. DaGd towe ( h nArbor, Mich.: Ardis, 199t ), p. 89. The wording used in &is chapter title varies sli&.tfy from that in the cited edition, but it is in confordty with Dostowsws original

Russian.

of this hermeneutic praaice, which has so dominated the educated consciousness of our century: [It] is a type of. . . hermeneutics which is at the s m e time a kind of phiIolou and a kind of genealogy; It is a philoloilzy, an megeds, an interpretation insofar as the text of our consciousness cm be compared to a palimpsest, under the surface of which ano&er text has been tvrinen. The task of this special megesis is to &cipher this text, But this hermeneutics is at the same time a pxlealog, since the dislortion of the text emervs from a conRia of farces, of drives and counterdrives, d o s e origin must be brought to light.2 %!hen faced with a text-whether scripture, art, discourse, dreams, or human consciousness itsdf-the concern is ta ""dmystie:" to mpose "truth as lying:" to reduce the illusions of consciousness to their trae origin in certain ""dives and counterdritres" (the "Xibida: say, or the "will to powa"), This concern is aptly reflected in Nietzsche" pradke of hinterfiagen, which can be translated loosely as "the questionling of someone" motks." As he explains it: "In everything a man reveals we can ask m a t : is it supposed to hide? From what is it supposed to distract our attention? M a t &d of prejudice is it supposed to provoke? And then again, how far does the refinement of this dissemblance go? And where does it ga wrang?"3 For readers of Dostoevsky; these vvclrds conjure up the i m a v of the protagonist of Motesfmnz tbze Underground so spon~neousfiyand directly that it seems as though Nietzsche must have had him in mind, Let us recall the manner in which this first antihero of modern fiction introduces krimselfi f am a sick man . . . I'm a spiteh1 man. I" an unallritctiw man. X think there is something wrong with my liver, But I annot make head or tail of my illness and I'm not absolutely c e ~ a i nwhich part of me is sick. I'm not receiving my treatment, nor have I ever done, although!I do respect medicine and doctors. Besides, I'm still mremely superstitious, if only in that X respecf medicine, (X" suf6cientIy welleducated not to be superstitious,but X am.) No, it's out of spite that I don't wmt to be cured. You'll probably not see fit to understand this. But I do understmd it. Of course, f mn't be able to mplah to you precixly whom f will harm in, this instance by my slpi2e; X h o w perkctly wll that X camot in any vvay "suUy" the doctors by not consuItiag them. X h o w better than anyone that h doing this I shall harm no one but myself. h p a y , if I'm not r e e i ~ n gmedial treatment it's out of spite, If my Iiver is hurthg, then Iet it hurt all the more! . . . I've been Iivi~lglike this for a long the-for about meaty years, , , , I used to work for the government, but f no longer work I was a spiteh1civil semmt. I was rude and X enjoyed being rude, You

see, f diMt accept bribes so I had to reward myseff in this way. (That%a lousy joke, but I won't delete it, f wrote it thinki~lgthat it would come across brery wi~ilyty; but now that f can see that f only wanted to show off in a wlgar way, I'm deliberately not gahg to cross it

'IThis Undergrsund man writes as though someone is peering aver his shoulder, suspiciously scrutinizing what he is writing. He introduces himself by saying, " X am a sick mans3;but then he worries that the reader will think he is trying to elicit sympathy, so he adds: "I'm a spitehl man. I'm an unattradke man.'' He informs us that fie "respects medicine and doaorsw";but then fie suspects that the reader will think he is naive, so he adds a little Gtticism: "Besides, I'm still extremely superstitious, if only in that I respea medicine." Then, however, he suspects that the reader will consider him backward ar uneducated for admitting ta being "superstitious," so he adds: "I'm sueciently well-eduatd not ta be superstitious, but I am," Finally*he defimtly asserts that it is out af spite that he does not want to be cured. Realizing by now that the reader will likely be in a state of impatient perplexity, he concedes: "You'll probably not see fit to understand this." Anticipating the next 1ikX.ythought of the redem;he adds: "I know better than anyone that in doing this I s h d harm no one but myself."" Notice haw fie both anticipates and challenges the reader but at the same time wants to win the reader" approval. He shows us, for ins~nce,that he h a w s he has just made a bad joke; but this obsequious currying af favor has its limits-he will not cross out the joke! Was it not Dastoevsb, before Nie~scheand before Freud, who began to teach readers ta abseme what a charader reveals only in order then to ask: " m a t is it supposed to hide? From what is it supposed to distract our attention?" The Underground man, himself the most strikng early k s ~ n c of e the artistic embodiment of hinterfiagen, prods, even bullies the reszder into an attimde of suspicion: He is constantly suspicious of his own confession; the reader, e-nusuraged at first to join him in this suspicion, goes even further, becoming suspicious of the character" suspicion, and finally3of the intentions of the author fiimseE-just what is Dostaevsb up to? To seek meaning in Dostoevsky" work is not simply a matter of explicating the consciausness of meaning but af "'attempting to dec@herits apressions, "" Dostoevsky deserves to be recognized as a preeminent teacher within the ""school of suspicion)))along with Nietzsche and Freud; indeed, on the basis of PJietzscbe's achowledgment that Dostoevsk;y was "the onXy psychologist" from whom fie had ""smething to learn,"s we might trace a lineage in the modern practice of suspicion &at has its actual source in Dostoevsky. This convergence, however, should not be pushed too far: Nietzscfie and Freud, after d, were Western and avowedliy atheist, whereas Dostaevsb was Russian and avowedy Chris-

tian. Placing Dostoevsb in the school of suspicion is condhional upon recognizing that he employs the hermeneutics of suspicion to a digerent end than do these others. Wereas the hermeneutks of the other masters is one of reduction, Dostaevsws hermexzeutics could be defined as one of r~ollection-that is, one devoted to the restoration of meaning.7

Deciphering Modern Humanism: The Case of Ivan Karamazov DostoevskyJspraaice of the hermeneutics of suspicion-~th a Christian aimis a formative feature of "The Grand Inquisitor.'The ambiguities of the Inquisitor's discourse, in be& tone and content, are designed to inspire hinterfragen in the reader; and the most flawed interpreQtions of this text are flawed precisely bemuse their authors have failed to read suspiciously b e ~ e e nthe lines where it is most necessry to do so. It was arwed in Chapter 3 that the most unique and perpleAng aspect of the Inquisitor's pprcsphetic anticipation of modern totalitarianism is his philanthropy. The Inquisitor and his fellow rulers are not to be considered "qrants" in the ordinary. sense, because they are motivated by a profound love of humanity. ampassion for the ""millions, numerous as the sands of the sea,""of the "weak"" and "feeble" has moved the Inquisitor to renounce private fulfillment in order to assume the burden of rule. As he declares: "Know that X, too, was in the wilderness, and I, too, ate locusts and roots . . .and X, too, was preparing to enter the number of F u r chosen ones, the number of the strong and mighv*. . . But I awoke and did not want to serve madness. I returned and joined the host of those who have correctedpur deed, I left the proud and returned to the humble, for the happiness of the humble"pfil]. The Inquisitor, unlike the ordinary t-yrant, does not exercise power for his own satisfaction. Indeed, this exercise is for him ac-t~allya source of suffering, because it requires him deEberate1y to deceive those whom he loves, by means of the ""noble" lies that they are free, even though they have given up their t"reedom for the sake of unity; that they are equal, even though their equaliv is that of slaves; and that they have an eternal destiny, even though there is nothing beyond the grave. The Inquisitor's love for humanity, to the point of suffering, is not an incidental feature of his personality-it is the basis of his entire arpment against the response to human suffering signified by the silent Christ. BLt. the heart of his argument against Christ and all the other ""great idealists" of history is the charge that they do not love human beings enough. He himself is well aware of the apparent perverseness of such a charge, particularly.against Christ, who ""erne to give his life for them!" [46j He nevertheless insinuates, on the basis of

his own application of suspicion to Christ, that the great idealist3 rrel'ection of the three temptations was motivated more by. the desire to be loved in a certain way than by compassionate love for human beings as they actually are, This is implicit, for instance, in his interpretation of Christ's rehsal to cast himself from the pinnacle of the Jerrtsalem temple, and at the end of his ministry, to come down f am the cross when mocked: "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 Iove that is free, and not for the servile raptures of a slave before a power that has left him permanently terrified'T471, In attempting to elicit from human beings a frreely. given love rooted in spiritual discernment, Christ" '5ncognitom "excluded the millions, "numerous as the sands of &c: sea,""who are incapable of such discerning Iove, According to the Inquisitor, the great idealist" highly demanding form of Xave is limited to an elect minority, whereas the Inquisitor" realism lowers the sights sufficiently to include all within a universal, nonjudgmental compassion: m a t of the rest? 1s it the fafault of the rest of feeble madixld that they could not endure what the mighty erndurd? Is it the fault of the weak soul that it is unable to contain such terrible g i b ? Can it be that you indeed c m e only to the chosen ones and for the chosen ones? But if so, there is a mystery here, and we cmnot u d e r stand it, And if it is a mystery, then m, too, had the ri&r to preach mystery and to teach rhem that iir is not flte free choice of the heart h a t matters, and not love, but rhe mystery;which rhey must blind7 obey. . . .We corrected your deed and based it on miracle; wrystey, and authority,ill81

The audacity of the Inquisitor's claim is asbnishing: Not only is the totalitarian order he advocates based on love of humanity; it is based on a love of humanity greater than &at of Christ himsell: This clairn is made more explicitly in the unpublished notes for the novel, where Dostoevsky has the Inquisitor declare to Christ: "Hove humanity. more than you da"; and where he has Ivan declare: ""I am with the old man%idea, because he loves humanity more.""gThus, the young humanist states his chief point of accord with the old tyrant. For Dostoevsky; this is the essential self-jusdfication of the modern pmgessivist rejection of Christianity-the claim to love humanity more, and more effectively Such a claim in the mouth of the Inquisitor serves notie of the inadequacy of understanding the rulers of the Eut~reuniversal sQte in terms of the ordinary meaing of "t~ant."Yet although the Inquisitor's love of humanity entails a volunary assumption of suffering, which imbues his fiwre with a certain ""fQ sadness," most readers will react, as Ayosha does, with suspicion, Alyosha suspects

that the ""sffering"" Inquisitor is merely a deception, cc7tncaEng the usual lust for power, for "@thy lucreD"t33j.There is undoubtedly. something in the tone of the Inquisitor" monologue that easily invites the attentive reader" suspicion about his a ~ i t u d toward e his ""flock)";his rehsal to demand too much, to esteem the "feeble creatures" too highly, treads too fine a line b e ~ e e nloving solicitude and contempt. The old man, hough a corngelling fipre, is not an attractive one. In contrast, Ivan bramazov & undeniably an a ~ r a a i v efibit;ure, albeit an enipatic one. As the creator of the Inquisitor, he defends his character against our suspicion: Look, suppose that one among all those who desire only material and filthy lucre, that one of them, at least, is like my old f~lquisitor,who himsdf ate roots in the desert and raved, overmming his flesh, in order to m&e himself free md perfect, but who still. Ioved madind all his life, and suddenly opened his eyes and saw that here is no great moral blessedness in achieving perfection. of the wifl only to become convince&, at the s m e time, that mnniflions of tlse rest of God's ccreamres have been set up ody for mockr)l, that they wiU never be &rong e n o u e to manage their freedom . . .. Having undergood ajl that, he returned and joined . . .the intelligent people

.

33

*.

"'LVhom did he join? %at intelligent peofle?" Alyosha exclaimd . . , ."They are not so very intdigmt, nor do they have any great mysteries and secrets . . . .Your Inquisitor doesdt believe in God, &at%his whole secret!" " M a t of it! At Iast you've understood, . .but is it not suffering, if only for such a man as be, who has wsted his whofie life on a great deed in h e wilderness and still has not been cured of his Iove for mankind? . . .And if even one such man, at least, finds himelf at the head of that tvhoZe army "usring for power: . . h one such man, at least, not enough to make a trageely!""f52]

The credibtlity of the Inquisitor" love of humanity clearly. depends on the credibility of his creator and defender, Ivan Karamazov. That Ivan embodies a text that cries out for deciphering is exgEcitly recognized within the novel itself=, His dder brother, Dmitri, for instance, refers to him variously as a ugrave'%nd a ""sphinxw-""h's silent, silent all the time"-a silence portending something more, a signifiant, unspoka secret (1 IQ, 5"32).* The need for a deciphering of Ivan has also been recogni~edfrom ou&ide the novel by generations of readers and critics who have been preoccupied by the question: ""X Ivan the real hero of *Here and below, references appeadngy inside paren&eses in the n a r r a t i v e d e s s otherwise speci f i e d - ~ ~page numbers in Fyodor Dostoevsb, The Brol-hers Kararnaz~~ trans. &chard Pever and taxism VoloBonsky (New York Vintage, 1990). References inside sqiuare brackets are page numbers in "The Grand Inquisitor," reprinted from the aforernendaned edition, in Ghatyter 2 of the present volume.

The Brothers Karanzazov, despite Dostoevsws Christian int-gntions?"We know that Dostaevsky himself did not share IvanJsatheism and intended to refute it in the novel.9 We h o w also that a number of readers (including thoughthl ones) during the century since The Brstbzers Karamaz~vwas published remain uaconvinced by this rehtation. Indeed, the apparent discrepancyb e ~ e e nDostoevsky"~ intention and his art is sometimes taken to be a classic demonstration (tageher with Miltonk Paradise Los0 of what has now become a truism for contemporarcy literary criticism: "Trust the tale, not the teller." Blake's comment about M2ton might seem applicable to Dostoevsky also: "[He] was a true poet and of the g EO Devil's p-arv 6thiout h o ~ n itaJ' The question of Ivan's stalus remains very much alive among Dostoevsky scholars, having been given kesh impetus by the recent publialion of the notebooks b r the novels, which allow us ta observe just haw carehlly Dostoevsky worked behind the scenes to orchestrate what Ziakhtin called his upolyphonic" poetics. There rmains much at stake in this question about Ivan bramazov: for theobgians and philosophers engaged by the problem of faith and atheism; and for literary critics concerned with the relationship between the intentions of an author and the m r k of art as well as that b e ~ e e nthe reader and the w r k of art. Beyond these significant issues, moreover, the question speah to the very nature of moderniv. ATberl: Camus regarded Ivan as emblematic of modern, secular humanism, because in his "metaphysicd rebeDionmh aimed to "replace the r e i p of [divine1 grace" with the "reign af [human] justiwe7'l'As Dostoevsky intended, to ask the question &out Ivan is, ultimatelypto ask also about the moral meaning and implications of the whole modern enterprise. It is little wander that the question persisb; and there should be peat uneasiness about answering it too quicMy or definitively; one way or the other. Any decliphering of the e n i p a of Ivan Karamazav must be mindhl of the special complefities involved, Ivan is a Literary charader who does and does not reflect the thinEng of his author, an author who hinrzself is constrained in his pres e n ~ t i o nby the aesthetic requirements of the ""plphonic" novel-form and by the moral requirement af respect for human freedom-both that of the reader and that af the character. It has often been obsemed that the art of Dostaevsky can be like a mirror held up behre the reader. This obsewation is most strikingly apt in the case of Ivan, whose destiny is so closely identified with that of the modern West. As tve gaze into this mirror, it is (to paraphrase Kierkegaard) the thoughts of our hearts that are dis~losed.'~ Reflection upon the enigma of Ivan provides the occasion for bringing Dos.t-oevsbthe artist-phtlosopher into direct dialope with Pdietzsche the phaosopher-artist, who is an equal2y suspicious interpreter of modernity, If ever two contemporaneous writers were meant br dialogue with each ather, it is these

two, both of whom deseme the appellation "prophet of moderniq,'Their dialope, with its convergences and its divergences, is a sine qua non for those concerned with the relationship between Christian faith and the modern consciousness, The mentieth-century Russian philosopher Berdyaev once remarkd that Dostoevsky knew everything Nietzsche knew . . . and more. Some might object that this judgment should be reversed. Let us turn, then, to the test case presented by the task of deci.pber;ing the sphinx-like Ivan Karamzov, focusing our aneation on what makes him emblematic: of modernity-his "metaphysical rebellion," Ivan" compelling rhetoric, and certain unique features of his logic-far instance, his strategt" of ""accepting" God whtle rejecting God's world-have led some interpreters to rank his argument as h e modern sQtement of antitheodiq, which may well have rendered impossible, once and for all, any rational justification of a so-call& "moral world order.'%aving scrutinized Ivan's logic and his rhetoric in an earXier chapter, our concern at this point is with the motivation underlying his rebellion against God-his love of humanity. Here, again, is the p m erhl fibinale to his arpment, which immediately plrecedes his tale of "The Grand Inquisitor": If the suffering of children goes to m&e up the sum of sugering needed to buy truth, then I assert beforehand that the whole of truth is not wash such a price. . . , X don't wmt harmony, for love of nnadind I don't t m t it . . . . TU rather remain with unrequited sugering and my unquenched indipation, even $1 am wrong. Besides, they have put too high a: price on harmony; we can't afford.to pay so much for admission, And &erefore: X has.ten to remrn my ticket, f 2462.45)

Ivan" avowal of love for humaniv resonates with a heroic image at the ancient roob of the Mreskrn cultural imagination-the rebel Prometheus of Aeschylean tragedy, the ""enemy of %us" "=use he was ""to good a friend to men,"" "3an himself alludes to the Prometheus myth mice: first in his "Rebegion" "(So people themselves are to blame: they were given paradise, they wanted freedom, and stole fire h m heaven," 244; and then Icfirough the Inquisitor ("Do you know that .. .the spirit of the earth will rise against you [Christ], and everyone will follow him exclaiming: %o can compare to this beast, for he has giwn us fire from heavenfm"f44]). Both allusions, moreover, point to another ancient source-the Bible (Genesis 2, 3, and Revelation 13). Indeed, Ivan's conflation of Greek and biblical images might well be intended to encourage in his listener an unconscious identification of the biblical God with the "qrant" "us, who neglects human beings and punishes the heroic benefaaor who alleviates their condition. T h i s implicit identification-which can be extended to include, an another level,

the Karamazov bro&ershegligent, sensualist father-is the crucial. p r e g m i n a ~ to Xvan's appeal to the Christian virtue of compassion,It becomes clear that Ivan's avowed motive for "metaphysical rebellion" is inseparable from the logic of his argument, a logic especially effedive for a Christian interlocutor: Those who truly share his love of humanity, and therefore his motivation, must also share his XogiaJ conclusion that genuine compassion b r humanity. is incompati_blewith the adoration of a God who is negligently unwilling to alleviate human aflktion. In response to Xvan, one mi@t well take issue with the idea of God he presupposes. At this point, however, I wish to focus on the psycholow rather than the theology of Ivan's argument (acceding for the moment to Nietzscfie" insistence that it is psy.cholol5)r that oRers the path to understanding the Eundamental problerns),lQet us therefore scrutinize more close;ty the avowed love of humanity that is so central to the motivation for and the logic of Ivads atheism as well as to his rhetoric, Is it, in the final analysis, more rhetoric than anphing else? The novel subsequently oRers a number of ocasions designed to arouse suspicion in the a r e h f reader. One such occasion is that of Xvan's wakefulness during the night immediately following the conversation with Alyosha in which he voiws his rebellion against God and recites his poetic: tale of "The Grand InquisitoZTo set the scene: Ivan leaves Alyosha to return to his father" house, where he is slaying; on the way he encounters the sinister servant Smerdyakov; they have a conversation in which little of import, is said but much is implied, though it if not clear to what extent Xvan is conscious of all that is implied by the devious servant, Ivan's decision during the night to go a w q on a trip the next day leaves his father alone, at the mercy of Smerdyakov, who murders him, thereb carrying out what he has interpreted as Ivank wish. The implicationwhich becomes ever clearer to the reader and to Ivan himself as the novel progresses-is that Xvan's decision during that fateful night makes him, the selfproclaimed lover of humanity, an accomplice to the murder of his own father. At this point, Dostoevsb does not convey the implication direaly. m a t he offers the reader, instead, is a moment-when Ivan stands at the top of the s~ircase listening attentively to the movements of his father below+ne of those moments we have learned ta call "guirztessendalXy Dostoevskian; and which is certain ta inspire hr'nterfragen. m a t is particuhrfy DostoevsEan is that the moment arouses the suspicion not only of the reader, but also of the character himselfi It was very late, but Ivm was still not asleep, He lay awake thi~lking. . . . But we win not describe the trend of his thougfits, . , , Even i f w e a~emptedto describe same of his thoughts, we should find it very difficult, because they were not reaUy thou&ts, but some&ing very vague and above all, too excited, . . . Remembering this night

long aftemards Ivam Fyodomvich recalled , , .how he suddenly would get up from the sofa and quietly , , .open the door, go out to the head of the stairs, and listen to Fyodor PavIovieh n n o ~ ~around lg below . , . . He would listen for a long t h e . , , with a sort of strange curiosiq, holding his breazlh, his heart gourzhg . . . and why he was doing all &at . . . he, of course, did not b o w himseX1: (275-276)

Can one imagine the ancient hero, Prometheus, having a moment like this? N e t h e r Dostoevsky knew everphing Nierzsche knew, and more-or vice versa-there is no question that Dastoevsky h e w what he knew before Nietzsche. If one can speak at aU of lines of direct influence-rather than mere coincidence of &ought-the lines run from the Russian to his punger German contemporary: Dostoevsb never knew of Pdietzsche; but the latter discovered Dostaevsb in 188"7ben, by chance, he came upon a French translation of Not.es fom the Underground in a bookstore. In his subsequent correspondence, IVietzsche speaks of his encounter with Dostaevsb as a meeting with a "brothern to whom he is "pateh1 in a very special way: much as the Russian constantly @offends" his "most basic instincts." h d in Twilight of the Idols, he pays Dostoevsb a high compliment as "the only ps)rehologist, incidentally, from whom I had something to learn; he ranks among the most beautiful strokes of fortune in my life? mth the pawation of the second p-art of volume eight of Nie~sche"Collected Works, we now h o w that his reading of Dostaevsb was not limited to Motesfi-snz the Underground, nor was it haphamrd; he made mtexzsive notes, abstradrz, and copies sf sdected passages fin his own German translation sf the French) fiom Grime and Punbhmenii-, The Idiot, and Demons, Indeed, the available evidence indicates that Nietzsche was thoroughfy famaiar with all of Dostoevsk;yfs major works except n e BrolFhers Karanzazov, whkh was not available in French or German before the onset of Nietzsehek madness,'5 There is thus no possibility of offering Pdietzschek own interpretation of Inn's episode on the staircase. W think, howexr, that a Mietzschean interpretation is possible, and will now attempt to offer one. Nietzsche assrzrted that the possession of an ""intellectual conscience," the rigsraus commitment to truth, is what ""separates the higher human beings h m the 1owere7'X6He might well interpret Ivan's ambipous moment of self-awareness on the staircase in a positive sense, as a manifestation of the intellectual conscience-by this point in the novel, a pronounced trait of Ivan". This moment could sipal the tentative beginning of an emancipation kom the untenabl-e illusion, or lie, of secular humanism, which prevents Ivan from realizing his potential as a higher man. Nietzsche, like Dostoevsb, interpreted the progressivism of the modern West as a secularized form of Christianity, especially-of the New Testament command

of compassionate love. Still moved by this command, the moderns come to envisage history. as the arena for the overcoming of the injustices of society and nature on behalf of those who suger from them, For Nietzsche, the idea of history as progress, in its culminating Hegelian-Marxist mpression, is above all the charitable hope, now made ""rational:" for the realimtion of human equality. His critique of historicist progressivism is developed with various emphases in digerent contexts; let us begin with his acmunt of the most obvious problem posed for those who possess a fineXy tuned inteflectual mnscience, Secular humanism is not tenabl-e, according to Mietzsche, because it is riven by a hndarnental theoretial. contradiction: One a n n o t do away with the ideal of "God" while holding onto the ideal of "hmanity,'Wr to use the lanwage of love, since this is so important to Ivan" position, the love of humaniq @ends on befief in God. In Beyond Good and .Evil Nietzsche argues b r this dependence: To Iove hurnani~forG d s sah-that

has so far been. the noblest and most remote feeling attained among men. That the love of man is just one more s t ~ p i d i vand bmtishness if there is no ul~eriormotive to sancti@it; that the inclination t.o such love of man mu& receirwe its measure, its subdew, its grab of salt and dash of mbergris from some hi@w indination-whoever the human being may have been who first felt a d "experienad""this, howmer much his tongue macy have stumbled as it tried to express such d&licatesse[a referam, apparently, to Moses] let him remain holy and venerable for us for all dme as the humm being who has flown highest yet md gone astray most beautihjly!l7

Although Mierzsche does not in this passage foreclose the possibaity of some natural inclination to love humaniq>he insists that such a love cannot be susraked and made effectual wi.lhout the aid of some "higher" inclination, without which it is a mere "~tupidityl"Thanks to his realimtion that love of humanity requires an ""ulterior motive;""Moses flies as high as Nietzsche, and higher than the modern progressivists who would paronize him, As the founding legislator of biblical morality, Moses discovered his higher sandification of love of humanity in a divine command f a discovery still definitive for the Mew Testament, in which Christ also presents love [agape] of the suffering neighbor in the b r m of a command, as though in achowIedgment that this love is not naturally selfjusti+-ying). In this respect, then, Moses Ries high; yet he goes "astray" in believing there is a God who issues moral commands. Nierzsche insists that those who are inteDectually honest now h o w better; thanks to two centuries of the modern rationalist critique of biblical faith, it is no longer possible to believe in the God of Moses except out of iporance r worse, mendaciv.

According to Nietzsche, however, modern crhicism has not shown the courage of its conviction, in &at the effective death of God in the modern Western consciousness has yet to be directly faced in d of its consequences. One symptom of this state of denial is the persistace of a secularized biblicd morality in the modern world. As he writes in Twilightof h e ifidoh: They have got rid of the Christim God and now feel obliged to cling all the more iirmly to Christian: morality. . . .In England, in response to every IittIe emancipation: from theology, one has to reassert: one" position in a fear-hspirbg manner as a moral fanatic. That is the penance one pays there.-With us it is digereltnt, m e n one gives up Christian bdief one thereby deprives oneself of the ~ g htat Christian mora1it.y. For the latter is absolutely not sdf-evident: one must m&e this point clear again and again, in, spite of English shalloyates. Christimity is a system, a cctnsistentl-ythought out and complete view of things. If one breaks out of it a &ndamenral idea, flte bdief in God, one tXzere13iy b r e h the whole thing to pieces: one has nothing of any consequence left in one's hands . . . . Christian morality is a command; its origin is transcel-rdental;it h beyond all criticism, all right to criticize; it possesses truth only if God is truth-it $tan& or falls with the belief in God. '9

Despite the emphasis in this particular passage, Nietzscfie does not attribute only to English ""sallowpates" the inconsistenq of attempting to have it both ways. He would have known, after all, that George Eliot, whom he has in mind here particularly>was decisively infiuenced in her humanism by her study and translation of Feuerbacgs E'ssence: of Chrisdianiv And elsewhere he speaks of another German, Want, as the "great delayer" "cause he gave human autonomy (induding the capaci;ty to make our own history) and scientific reaon their definitive philowphical justification, at the same time asrming that obedience to the moral law is the supreme fact of reason, Kant's brilliant temporizing did much ta delay the realiation that morality a n n o t exist on the basis of reason alone, without support from religious faith, Indeed, Nietzsche might well have been surprised at how persistently this delay has been extended into the present century with the burgeoning of the secular ehics industry (i.e., prokssional ethics, medical ethics, business ethics, and so on). If his argument is valid, hotvever, then the untenability of secular ethics must eventually make itself felt, and this redbation will coincide with the advent of popular nihilism in the modern West (a nihilism already mrznifest in the ""killing compassion" of much contemporary ethics itself).2@ To return to our Nietzschean reading of Ivan's moment of sdf-awareness on the staircase: This vignette could signal a dawning sense of the inadequacy of his hu-

manism, which purports to reject the love of God even as it a&rms the love of humanity, For Nietzscfie would a s r m what fvan's humanism denies: that the two loves-of God and of the neighbor-are, as in the New Testament, inseparable. I'jietzscbe would place the arwment of Ivan's 'Grand Inquisitor" at a hi&er rank of intdledual honesty than the argument of his "Rebeflionl' precisely bemuse the Inquisitor's s o - c a d love of hunnaniv is so ambipous, so srtspiciously like contempt ralfier than love, Indeed, the Inquisitor" attitude is decidedly unambiguous in its repudia~onof at least one crucial ideal rooted in biblical morality: that of human e q u a l i ~For the Inquisitor, instead, there are strong and there are weak (256,259). m e r e he goes astray2from the Nie&schean perspeaive, is in his declaration that the sQong ou&t then to d e over the we& out clflavefor them (261). Here we have, as in "RebeEan,""that same inconsistent retention of neighbar-love after the rejection of love of God. The ambiguous charader of the Inquisitor" love, however, hints at the possibiliq that some other motive, some other idea, is at work, Its presence is betrayed by the Inquisitor" tone, and indeed, oar one occasion at least, by Ivank tone: "It was not for such geese (g-useg.1 that the great idealist [that is, Christ] had his dream of harmony"1.531.This is not to claim that Ivan" love of humaniv is nothing but a rhetorial fqade, concealing a lust for power. Ambiguit-y is one thing and duplicit-y quite another; it is precisely the former that concerns Dostaevsky as artist, psychologist, and religious thinker, and it is the author" fidelity. to this very human ambiwity that makes his character so compelling. Moreover, h m a I'jietzschean paspective, that oher motive v i n g for precedence within Ivan need not neces~rilybe the ordinary lust for power. There remains still a higher possibiliv for someone who has broken free of the untenabl-elie of secular humanism. This possible higher justification of the Inquisitor" social formula, though, must be found in a: different object of love-love neither of the discredited ideal of God nor of the ideal of humanity dependent upon it. In n u s Spoke Zarath-hustra, Nietzscfie wites: ""Do I recommend love of the neighbor to you? Sooner f should even recommend flight from the neighbor and love of the farthest . . . . Let the Euture and the far&est be b r you the cause of your today. . . .In p u r fiiend you shall love the overmanP21 This reference to an. alternative ideal of the finture brings us to a second reason far Nierzsche's rejection of secular humanism. Not only is it theoretically untenaible, it is an ideal that is not salutary; it is the latest and perhaps final symptom of a sichess that has afflicted the West for rtvo millennia-the antinaturalism of Christian morality and the Christian God. The supernatural God might be dead, but the enormous shadow cast by him persists in the secular preachers of equality. who vengefully malign all that is noble, well-constituted, and life-a%rming in favor of all who suffer from life, In Zarathustra's wards: ""I

do not wish to be mked up and confused with these preachers of equality; For, to me justice speaks thus: 'men are not equal.Wor shall they. become equal! %!hat would my love of the overman be if I spoke othewise?"z Nietzsche" alternative ideal for the future is signified concretely. in that being-the "overman" (fir:rmensch)-who, freed from the spirit of revenge, is able to a s r m life as it is, as the fully natural dance sf perpewal becoming, without recourse ta any "higher" moral interpretation. Such a being would constitute a thisworldly justification of existence, And for Nietzsche, the development of such a being would jrrstiG the aristocratic order proposed by the Grand Inquisitor, since "every enhancement of the type ban-as so far been the work of an aristocratic society-and it will be so again and again-a society. that believes in the long ladder of the order of rank . . . and that needs slavery. in same sense or sther.'Q3

Humanism and the ""Deathof God"": Dostoevsky Contra Nietzsche In a Nietzschean reszding, then, hank s m e n t on the sQircase could signal the beginning of a journey leading from the rejection of God, through the rejeclion also of the humanist morality dependent on God, toward the Eut~regoal of the overman. How far is such a Nietzschean reading of Ivan supported by Dostoevsky through what he gives us in the novel? In response to this question, we can point, first, to the clear indications in the text that Ivan is well aware sf the theoretical tension k m e e n his denial of God and his love of huxnanllry He actuauy highlights this tension at the very beginning of his "&bellion" with a story about John the MercifuI, who is able to love his diseaed neighbor only out of obedience to moral duty, with the strain of a ""Lem-presumably the lie of belief in the God of moral prohibition and commandment: I must make an admission . . . . I never could understand how it's ppasdble to love one's neighbors, In my opinion, it is preciseiy one's neighbors that one cmnor possibly love. Perhaps if they weren't so nigh . . . . I read sometime, somewhere about " ] o h the Mercihli" (some saint) that when a hungry and frozen passerby came to him and asked to be made uuarm, he lay down with him h bed, embraced him, and began breathing h t o his mouth, which tvas foul arael festering with some terrible disease, I'm conGnced that he did it with the strai~lof a lie, out of love enforced by dugy . , . . If we're to come to love a man, the man hhself should stay hidden, be-

cause as soon as he shows his fa ove vanishes . . , .It's still possible to love one's neighbor abstractly , . .but hardly ever up close:"(236-237)

This admission by Ivan shows that he is not one of those whom Camus was to call "lay pharisees:" who pretend to believe that Christianity.is an easy matter and who demand of Christians, according to an external impression of ChrisGanity., more than they demand of themselves.24 Ivan appears to appreciate fully the extreme difficulty of loving one" neighbar. In this appreciation, he is subtle enough to distineish between the love of neighbar that actually encounters the nighdwelling other, and the easier, more abstract love of humanity-in-general that characterizes secular progressivism, Indeed, in this passage, he sounds remarkably like Zosha, who makes a closely similar distinction bemeen "aaive love" and mere "love in dreams" (5658). For Ivan, this great di%cuIty of loving explains why love must be divinely commanded, why it must, even in the case of a saint, be ""eforced by duv.'" W t h this story of John the Merciful as the preface to his "Rebellion,""Xvan arowes the suspicion of the attentive reader, How can someone with an avowedly Euclidean mind assert-in one and the same chapter-first the dependence of compassionate love on a belief in God, and then the incompatibility of the WO? From Niemche" perspective, Xvan has it r@t the first time, when he explains the action of John the Mercihk he dso has it r%ht later in the novel, when he proposes the formula ""lthere is no God, there is no virtue." If Ivan is to be a higher man, he will learn findIy to find his motivation somewhere other &an in the love of humaniv, in an alternative ideal consistent with his rejection of the supernatural God of mordiv That such an alternative ided is adually present in Xvan's consciousness is evirnced h his authorship of ano&er tea, entixEed "The Eeologid Cataclysm,"" the content of which is reve&d later in the novel. Nowhere is Dostoevsk.y's antidpation of Nietzsche more strzng than in Xvan's vision of the future "man-god" (Etogoctzelo~ek)~ who aErms "joy in this world anlyy': Once xnaa&nd has renounced God f and X believe &at &is period, analogous to &e geological periods, will come) then the entire d d w r l d view wifX fa11 of itself. . . and, above all, h e entire former moraliry; and e v e e i n g will be new People wifX come together in, order to take f r m life all that it can give, but, of course, for bappines and joy in this world only. Man will be malted with the spirit of divim, titanic pride, and the man-gad will appear, Man, his will and science no longer Z h ited, conquering nature eveq hour, will thereby eveq hour experiencle such lofty delight as will replace for him d l his former hopes of heavenly ddight. Each win

h o w bhself utterly nnortd, without resurrection, and will accept death prou&y and cdnnly, like a god. (648-549J2"

This Nietzschean, vision of life-affirmatim is spoken in Dostoevsky by the "devil3'of Ivan's nightmare. In this, obviously; the hermeneutics of suspicion of Nietzsche and Dostoevsky declare their divergence. To return, to that decisive episode on the staircase: In Nietzsche's reading this ambiguous moment of awareness might have indkated the belginning of Ivan's emancipation kom the last secular remnants of bliiblical morality. In Mietzsche's own words: "To be ashamed of one3 immoraliv-that is a step on the staircase at whose end one is also ashamed of one3 morafity,'Q26Yet Dostoevsb has the narrat-or inform us explicitly &at this moment would become, in Ivan" future recollection,"the basest action of his whole life"" (2%) That Ivan would later-and we can assume, finally+valuate the moment in this way provides at least a strong hint that the "torment" of his heart (to quote Zosima; see 70) will eventually be resolved in favor of a life wi5-hin rather than beyorrd good and evil. If so, then he would be, for PJietzsche, one more instance of a superior individud who has gone astray, "torn piecemed by some minoQur of conscienceP27 Vet what would be for Nieksche a sad waste is for Dostoevsky a possible restoration-or to be more precise, redemption. With the publication of the rough notebooks for The Brothers Karamazov, there has been a growing appreciation of the poetic means carehlly empXo)2.edby Dostaevsb to discredit Ivan's saeisxuz, and hrther, to plant the seed of a hture spiritual ""rurning-around" (pmiagoge) without violating his freedom or that of the responding reader.28 It has become increasingly obvious that to regard Ivan as a character who through the power of his argument besb the Christian intention of his creator is to misread the novel. Ivank forceful atheism is not an insQnce of the author's art becoming independent of the author" religious intention, but rather an mpresskn of that intention, since the radical: freedom enjoyed by Ivan is entirely consistent with DostoevskyJsChristian anthropolof~y:Yet as in Dostoevsky"s Christian thought, so in the novel this &eediom is not unconditi.iona1, as a carehl reading in corrjunction with the notebooks attesb. Literary critics who have wanted to interpret Dastoevsws art without acknowledging that it is Christian art have habimauy invoked Bahtin" observation that there is finally no authoribtive voice present in h e novels fmring one perspectlive over another. In response to this fashionable Bahtinism, it can be argued that alrhough Dostoe-vskyJsart is indeed polphonic rather than monologic, this does not preclude the orchestrating presence of the author.29 It is legitha&, then, not only ta speak of the author" concern with the possible ""rurning-arouxld"of his character, but also to see that concern enaded in the

novel itself, But to what sort of faith might Dostoevsb intend Ivan to tum? This question brings us back to the larger question with which this chapter began: m a t is the refigious meaning of atheism? This vestion acknowledges that atheism has something to teach faith, an acknowledgment implicit in ficoeur" charadaization of the modern hermeneutics of suspicion as a "school" in which presumably faith itself could and should be a student, In ficoeur" view, the school of suspicion can teach faith, even in the face of Miedsche2 declaration that "God is dead," because it remains possible to ask: "With God is dead?" Or, to ask the same question in a different manner: m i c h s p b o l of the divine has shown itself ifadequate to articulate and order human refigious experience?The God in quesrion might well be the one evoked in Samuel Becktt" play WaitingfwGodot, in the manic monologcle of Lucky: ""Given the existence . . . of a personal God with white beard who is defined (quaqzlaquaqula) by negative attributes such as apathia, athambia, and aphasia-such a God loves us dearly with some mceptions b r reasons uahown but time will tell.""'IThis is a poetic caricature of the monarchical model of God elaborated in the clmsical heism of the Middle Ages and the Protestant Rehrmation-the sovereign God of morality who both hreatens and protects through h e law of retriibution.30 It is evidently this God that Nietzscfie has in mind when he wites in Beyttnd Good and Evil: " m y atheism today?-The father5in God has been thoroughly rehted; ditto 'the judge;" the %warder.Wsohis 'free will? he does not hear-and if he heard he still would not know how to hdp, Worst of all: he seems incapable of clear commuaiation: is he unclear? This is what X found to be causes b r the decline of European theism, on the basis of a great many conversations, asking and 1isteninge8'31 In our attempt to understand clearly Dostoevsky"s Christian intenton, we must ask: Is the "rehted" "&er-judge-rewarder God the same one who is the ground of virtue in Ivads Eormuh-""i there is no God, here is no virtue" "(including the " that love of humanity)?The answer, we submit, is both ""yes" and ""no." It is " ~ s in Ivan's thinking about the relationship b e ~ e e nfaith and moraliv does appear always to presuppose the God of retributive judgment. This is the model of God evoked at the very beginning of Ivan's "Grsmd Inquisitor," in. the ancient legend about the Mother of God kneeling before the throne of God and asEng pardon for e v a p n e in bell. It is the God whom the Inquisitor assumes to be essentiaruy a God of judgment when he defianq asserts: "Judge us if you can and dare" [S 1. It is h e God whose manifest unwillinpess or inarbiliv to pedorm his retributiive function of protecting the innocent and punishing their tormentors provokes Ivan's rrebeEon. That 1van3sargument presupposes this p-articular God is made ex" I l l acplicit in the notebooks for the novel, where Dostoevsky has him declare: " cept God all the more readily if he is the . . .old God who cannot be understood, And so let it "c that God."32

We know from passages in A WrikrS Diary in which he spoke in his own name, that Dostoevsky agreed with Ivan" formula ""Ithere is no God, there is no virtue,""3 Does this mean that the ultimate point of disagreement bemeen the author and his character has ta da with the affirmation versus negation of the existence of the God of moral retribution? And is this the crucial point of disagreement also bemeen Dostoevsky and IVietzsche? Xs the question of the existence or nonexistence of the father-judge-rewarder-God the question that determines who reauy does h o w more? Xt has been alf too common to bring the dialogue b e ~ e e nDostoevsky and Nietzsche to a dose in this manner, as Richard Friedman does at the andusion of his otherwise interesting account of the convergence b e ~ e e nthe two: "Appreciating fully what the implications of the death of God were, Pdietzsche was not afraid to leave Christianity. . . . . Qnfronting the death of God really is terrify-ing. Xn the face of such fears Nietzsche took on the tension of living wiaout God, wh3e Dostaevsb held on tenaciously-ta a belkf in God, Xn the mexztieth century we see bath of these responses as well: Some cling to faith. Others live with the stress."34 To close the dialogue at this point is to fail to recogni~ethat while Dostoevse would say "yes" to toe formula "XI there is no God, there is no virtue:" he would say "no" to the manner in which Nie~sche(and ban) interpret it. Xvan's formula is the produa of a Euclidean mind that anticipates and encourages a ""ys" or "no" response, when the most fruitful response would be " m a t do you mean?" "JChere is ample evidence that the dialectic of faith and atheism in n e Brothers Karamamv is moving beyond the questions "Does God mist?" and "Can morality survive inde3pendently of religious faith?" ta other questions: m a t sort of God are we talking about?m a t sort of religious faith?The manner in which the latter questions are reflected upon in toe novel indicates that Dostoevsky's exploration of atheism was not only an act of confrontation but also an attempt to learn the meaning of atheism for faith, The point that religious faith is not the monolithic phenomenon frequently s made by the careful distinction that Dostoevsk-y draws imagined by its c r i ~ c is in his novel b e ~ e e ntwo charackrs, Ferapont and Zasima-both members of the Orthodox Church, both elderly monks, both living within the same monastery-yet each embodying a very different made of faith. Ferapont is a dogmatic and relentless observer of fasts, silence, and sotjirude; an ascetic discipline that to him is an expression of the fear of the Lord. The central place that fear occupies in his religiosity is betrayed by his seeing dev2s evewhere: ""Xm telling you-X see, f see throughout. As f was leaving the Father Superior", f looked-there was one hiding from me behind the door, a real beefy one, a yard and a half tall or more, with a thick tail, brown, long, and he happened to stick

the tip of it into the doorjamb, and me being no fool, I suddenly slammed the door shut and pinched his tail, He s ~ r t e dsquealing, struggling, and I crossed him to death with the sign of the Cross, the triple one, He dropped dead on the spot, like a squashed spider" (169). Dostoevskyk narrator makes it clear that asima, in contrast, bdongs to a more enlightened strand of Christian spirituality having its ultimate sources in the mystical theolom of the Greek Church fathers, recently revived in modern Russia through the practices of the starry (elders).35 An encounter bemeen Ferapont's fai& and Nieasche" ssuspicion is one thing; but if one substimtes Zosima for Ferapont, the e-ncounkr is very diEerent. And it is Zosima whom Dostoevsh explicitly designates as his Christian respondent t-o 1van3srebeDion." Zosisirna does not respond by invofing the God of retribution who accuses and consoles. Concaning accusation, be questions the very notion of externally imposed punishment, prekrring ta define bell, insteacf, as the suEering of no longer being able to love (322). And as for consolation, be a&rms instead the mysterious and hndamentally tragic faith of the book of fob, a faith beyond aU protection and assuranceeven beyond the assurance that Zosirna himseE and what he represents will be vindicated by a divine intervention to eliminate "the odor of corruption" &at emanates horn his corpse so soon after his death (339-340). These are but a few examples of the manner in which a s b a y sthinking implies consonance with, ra&er than opposition to, Ivan" denial of the God of moral retribution, The disagreement begins where Ivan would assume that this denial must entail the death of rdigiaus faith, whmeas Zosima would find faith ahanced by the possi?oil_iqof recollecting its more authentic nature. Let us take stock of where we now find ourselves in relation to the question of love of humanllry. and the hermeneutics of suspicion. Nietzsche and Dostoevse are both suspicious of secular humanism, which affirms the love of humanity apart from religious faith (as does Ivan), Both insist on the inseparabiliv of the love of God and the love of one3 nneighbor as enunciated in the New Testament. However, they understand the conneaion b e ~ e e nfaith in God and love of humanity in different ways. For Nietzsche, love of humanity. has its ultimate source in obedience to a divine command, obedience inspired by the fear and desire of a we& will in the face of the God who threatens and consoles. The ideal of love of humaniq annot, and should not, survive the death of this God, If Mie~schehad had the opportunip to r e d "The Grand Inquisitor,""he might well have regarded it as prophetic-above all, in its exposure of the suspicious nature of the "godless" hfnquisitor" avowed love of hunnanit-yl He himself would not have befieved in this avowal, and he might well have appreciated the subtle manner in which Dostoevsk-y makes it difficult for other sensitive readers to believe in it,

Yet "The Grand Inquisitor" is the outcome of an impassioned "Rebellion: and Ivan's avowed love of humaniq is less evidenfly suspicious, even to the sensitive reader, Indeed, although the hermeneutics of suspicion can be applied to Ivan's love with the aim of reducing it ta its hue "drives and counterdrives,""something in this character resists total suspicion, Despite everything, one does not feel naive in smsing a certain love and compassion shining through Ivads rhetoric; indeed, insofar as his secular humanism is motivated to any degree by genuine love, he has the sympathy of his author. In Dostowsk;), the hermeneutics of suspicion in the end serves a hermeneutics of recoflection: He does wish to teach the reader to suspect Ivan" love of humanity-not, however, because it is nothing but an illusory mask for the will to power but because it will become this unless it recollects its bond with the Love emanating from "other mysterious worldsJ' (328).

The phrase "other mysterious vvclrlds" is Zosimds, and it might well be considered the nucleus of his response ta Ivan-Inquisitor as well as of a Dastoevskian response to Nierzsche. In The Brothers Karamazov, the idea of God is atways dosely associated with the idea of "other mrlds" or ""imortatitf--so much so, that the terms appear interchangeabte. Ivan's formula can be, and often is, expressed in this way: ""lthere is no irnmortafity, there is no virtueeDSThis equivalence of God and irnmortab~might help explain Alyoshds o&efise puzzling assertion, with which Ivan agrees, that the Inquisitor" '%bole secret" is that he ""efoesn? b e l i m in Godm[53].Nowhere in his monologue does the Inquisitor deny the existace of God; but he does deny immortality as anphing more than a possibly salutary illushn: "Peacehlly they will die, peacehlly they will expire in your name, and bepnd the grave they will find only death. But we will keep the secret, and far their own happiness we will entice them with a heaveniy and eternal reward" l51 1. The Inquisibr's repudiation of the idea of irnmortaliry; which apparenfly for both AIyosha and Ivan is equivalent to a repudiation of God, is yet more vehement in passages in the notebooks which were not included in the published novel: ""lquisitor: VVhy do we need the beyond? We are more human .. ..We love the earth . . . .Those who suEer his cross will not find anphing that has been promised exactly as he himself . . . found nothing after his crossP38 m e t h e r or not Dostoevsky personally was mare preoccupied by the question of immortatity than by the question of God, he c e r ~ i a l ygives the former more expficit and sustained consideration in his writing. The Inquisitor" question" m y do we need the beyond?"-is the question that most assuredly draws us into the heart of Das.toevsws religious thought. Let us now shift: the emphasis, then, from the symbolism of ""Gad" m that of ""imortdiv" in order to grasp more fully how Dostoevsb, in contradistinction to Mietzsche, unders~ndsthe connection b e ~ e e nreligious faith and love of humanity;

Humanism and the Idea of Immortality: Dostoevsky Contra Nietzsche Hans Jonas began his 1961 Ixzgersoll Lecture on Immortality at Haward tmiversity by noting as an ""undeniablefact . . . that the modern temper is uncongenial to the idea of irnrnortalityY39Jonas" observation about this charadaistic feature of the modern consciousness seems entirely valid, notwithstanding the current curiosiv about near-death or "paranormal,""life-atfiter-dea& experiences-a cultural phenomenon that could well be interpreted as symptomatic of the loss to the modern consciousness of the serious idea of immortality. Dostoevsb, too, would seem to endorse Jonas's obsemation about the modern temper, Indeed, he appears to have taken a sarclonic delight in imaginatively con&onting the modem skptic with the sheer ""ttncongenial""fact of immortality, as in this anecdote r d a t d by the devil in hank nightmare: "There was . . .a certain thinker and philosopher here an your earth, who "ejected all-laws, conscience, faith,"and above all, the future lik. He died and thought he'd ggo straight into darkness and death, brat na--there was the Euture lik before him. He wills amx~ed and indimant: This," he said, "goes against my convictions,3o for that he was sentenced'' 643). More common even than the modern intel1ectuai"s indignant repudiation of immortaEty is the general attitude of &difference noted by Mrs. no&lakov, the frivolous society lady in R e Brothers hranzazov, who is ""devastated" that she appears to be utterly alone in her anguish aver the question af immartitliq: "How can it be proved, how can one be convinced? Oh, miserable me! I look around and see that for everyone else, almost everpne, it's ail the same, no one w r r k s about it a n p o r e , and I" the only one who a n " bear it. It's devastating, devas~ting?"(56) Madame Khokhlakovk plaint that "no one worries" about immorlttliq any Zonhfermight be true generally of the modern age, brat it is decidedly untrue of the other characters that inhabit The Brothers Karamaz~v~ Let us take note, for ins~nce,of the questions voiced by Fyador Karamazov to his sons Ivan and Myasha, over cognac; ""Bt still, tell me: is there a God or not? But seriously. X wmt to be serious now."

"No, there is no God.'" "Hyoshka, h &ere a God?" "There is.'" " h 4 is there hmortality, fvaaz?At least some kind, at least a littie, a teexly-thy one?" "hbt of any ki~ld?" "Not of any End.'"

""Completezero? Or is there samething?Maybe there's some kind of something? At least not nothing!" ""Completezero." "Myash, is here immortdity?" ""There is: ""XZthGod and immortdity?" ""B& God and immoflality. h m o r ~ lisi in. ~ God." "Hm, More likely Ivan is right, Lord, just think how much fai-rh,how much energy of aU knds man bas spellt. on this dream, and for so many thaumnds of ).ears! Vfho could be lau&ing at man like that?" "(134) This exchange is only the most exgficit expression of a problematic that is woven throughout the whole novel, The passage in. book 6, in which Zosima speaks of the importance of the sense of "other worlds" for sustaining our love of life, can be regard& as the "master key to the philosophic iaterprebtian, as well as to the structure, of m e BroLJiters Karammovs"~~ Against Janas's observation (apparently shared, on one level, by Dastoevsl?ry himself) about the u n c o n g n i a l i ~of i m m o r t a l i ~to the modern sensibiliv, we own literary art, permeated as it is by have the contrary witness of Dost0evsk-y"~ the idea of immorkliq. If this idea is uncongenial to modernit-y, Dostoevsws art certainly is not; few among the modern navefists have more fix4 explored, expressed, and helped to shape the modern (and the postmodern) sensibil;ity;Given the evidence constituted by The Brs-t-hersKaramm~ltas one of the seminal novels of modernity; Ionas's observation must be qualified. We need to understand more precisely what in the idea of irnmortali~is so unconlfenial to the modern sensibiiliq. On the basis of this undersbnding, we will be in a position to judge with greater clariq what Dastoevsky has underkken in m e Brothers Karaml~zov, For a clearer view of the modern repudiation of the idea of immortality, let us turn to that other maskr of the modern sensibility, Nietzsche, beginning with these words of Zarathustra: X beseech you, my brahers, i~emczinfaitktful to rhe e~rlh,and do not believe those who speak to you of atherwarIdXy hopes! Paison-mkers are they, whether they

h o w it or not. Despisers of life are they, decaying and poisoned themselves, of whom the earth h wary: so let them go . . . . Once the sin against God vvas the greate&sin.; but God died, and these siinners died with him, To sin. again&the earth is now the most dreadkl thing . .. . It was suEering and incapaciw that created all afiemorlds . , . .Believe me my brothers: it was the body that despair& of the body and touch& the ultimate walls with the hgers of a deluded spirit.41

arathustra" words are the poetic expression of a sustained philosophical a r e ment developed throughout Nietzschek less esoteric writings, an arpment already touched on in relation to his critique of humanist 10% 6thout God, The manner of this argument now needs to be outfined more mplicitly. In rejecting such "metaphysical errors'' as the "immortaX-saul-hypothesis" or the "Godhypothesis,""Nietzsche acknowledges that it cannot be dennonstratd with logial certainty that there is no God and no immortality, just as it a n n o t be dernonstrafed that these exist. According to him, however, it would be a kivolous abdication of phaosopbical responsibiliv to suspend judgment on the immortal-soul hypothesis merely because its falsehood cannot be demonstrated with logical rigor, for there are other grounds for pronouncing a hwathesis untenable. If, for instance, a hpothesis has nothing in its favor but the fila that we cannot have logial certainq about it one way or the other, and at the same time there is much that is seriously doubttisl about it, then honesty demands that it it' repudiated.42 3%e method of argumentation informing I\jietzsche's hermeneutics of suspicion is thus to elicit our serious doubt by exposing the alI-too-human source of the immortal-soul hypothesis and related metaphysical hypotheses of a "higher reality." His concern is to oEer, through historical and psycho-physiiological analysis, what he cdls a "genedodkf the belief in immortality, showing why and how it arose, and why it has had such enduring apged. This ""gnealoiog)rDis summed up in the words of Zara&ustra: ""Iwas suffering and incapaciq that created all afterworlds . . . .It was the body that despaired of the body? Nietzsche would consider the psycho-physiologial dimension of his genealo w broadly applicable to all notions of an afieworld. Since his primary focus , historical analysis refers espewas on the Christian version of i m m o r ~ l i vhis cially to the "suffer;ing and incapaci;ty2'of the oppressed of the ancient Roman Empire who embraced the new Christian faith. According to Mietzsche, the suffering of those tao weak ta alleviate directly their own suffering generates images of hture consolation, The obsemation that images of heavenly reward a n m a h life more talerhle for those who suffer now is virt-ually cclichb and needs no further comment, m a t does merit a closer Xoak is the more malipant side of the tendwcy of suEering to seek relief through psychological projedion, Along with consolation, the suffering of the weak generates images of accusation, which cub minate in the Christian doctrine of hell. Far Nietzsche, this doctrine is transparently explicable with reference to the suffering of the slaves of the Roman Empire, who lacked the apacity to act out diredly their understandable desire to rise up and accuse those who opp~ssedthem, Their impotent desire for revenge was turned inward and was satisfied by the imaginative projeaion of God" retributive punishment meted out ta ""sinners" "at is, to those who tended to pos-

sess the charaderistics and ways of life of the masters). Nie~schedeteds the unmistakable traces of a desire for revenge even in the later, fully. developed imagination and thought of Christianit-y, induding that of Dante and Aquinas: ""Dante, I think, cornmitt& a crude blunder when, with a taror-hspiring ingenuity, he placed above the gateway of his hell the inscription 3 too was creatd by eternal love7-at any rate, there vvcluld be more justification for placing above the gateway to the Christian Paradise and its 'eternal bliss'. . . the inscription ? too w s created by eternal halt.'-provided a truth may be placed above the gateway to a lie! For what is it h a t constitutes the bliss of this Paradise?" In response to his own question, Nietzsche quotes St. Thomas Aquinas: "The blessed in the Klingdom of Heaven will see the punishments of the damned, in ar&r that f.her"rbliss be more delighet for thern,"'43 Nietache purports to =pose what really-underlies the immorality. hypo&esis and its attendant notions of eternal bliss and eternal punishment sanctioned by God the judge and "rewarder." It seems that like Dostoevsky, Nietzsche links closely the ideas of immorlttli~and God; and he appears, Eurther, to regard the former as psychologically prior, relegating God to the role of guarantor of the moral world order. To sum up his genealogkal analysis, then: The psychologic;allhismricsll rediq underleng the immortality.hpofiesis is the desire for consolation and accusation on the part: of a weak though imaginatively creative human will. Or to name the same realiq with a different emphasis: The belief in immortality has its genesis and appeal in all-zoo-human egoism, Nietzsche repeatedIJY highlights the ridiculous aspect of this colossal egoism: "How can one make such a fuss about one's little lapses as these pious little men dot M o gives a damn? Qxtainly not God. FirrtaXly they even m t 'the crown of eternd fifefe:these little provincial people; but for what? to what purpose? Presumption a n go no further. An "innmortal' Peter; who could stand him? Their ambition is laughable. . . .salvation of the soul"in plain words: 'the world revolves around mee3"44 Bemusement, however, is not Nietzsche" customary attitude toward an illusion he consgers t-o have such deadly. implicsltions. For, through its gradual spiritudiation and generalimtion, the reaction of the weak against certain conditions of life has been transformed into a reaction against life itself on the part of those who suEer from it: "It was the body that despaired of the body." 3%e immortality.hypothesis uithate1.y.accomplishes a revenF against the earth itself through the positing of a "hieer reality" in amparison with which this reaEv-he only one here i e i s devalued: "mya Beyond if not as a means of befouiing the Here-andNow . . . . Mre revenge ourselves on life by means of the phantasmagoria of 'another; a 'be~er"ife."e The most significan~,far-reaching meaning of the irnmortality hpothesis is, acmrding t - ~Nietzsche, a despairing ""nd30the earth and t-o life. arahustra, in conbast, e&orts his listeners to "remain faitlilhl to the earhP

This brief account of Pdietzsche" critique of the idea of inrzrnortality should help illumine its uncongenialiq for the modern sensibiliv. The issue is not the logical or empirical indernonstrabiliq of irnmortafity but the recognition of its suspicious ps.)rcho2ogicaUhistori~iflgenesis and agpeaL Nietzsehe's genealogical method is central to the madern sensibiliv (one need only think of those other masters of suspicion, Freud and Marx). Central also to the madern sensibi1i.t-yis his repudiation of what his method apparently exposes: firstly, a morality based on egoistic incenti?vesof eternal reward and punishment; and secondly, an otherworldly orientation that devalues this world. Did Dostaevsh, in taking up the question of immortality in The Brothers Karamazov, h o w everphing Nietzsche knew about it . . .and more? We shall begin our reflection on this question with a passage following Mrs. Kho&lakovJs declaration that "no one" vvclrries about immortaliv any mare. Another local liberal landowner, Miusov, repeats views on immortality. mpressd recently by Ivan Qramazov at a local gathering,"prdominandy of ladies," one of whom was very likely Mrs. Khoktrlakov herselk He solemnliy announced in the discussion that &ere is decidedly nothing in the whole world that would make men Iove their fellow mm; that &ere &&S no Iaw of nature that man should love ma d, and that if there is and hats been any love on earth up to now*it hats come not from natural law but safely from people's bbdief in heir immortaliv. Ivan Fyodarovich added parenthetically h a t that is what at1 natural Iaw consists of, so that were mafind"s belief in its immox;tdiq to be destroyed, not onky Iove but also any living power to continue the lik of the w r l d would at once dry up h it. Not ody that, but then no&hg w u l d be hmoral any longer, everphing w u l d be pern;titted, even an&ropophap. And wen &at is not dl:he ended with the assertion that for every separate person, like ourselves for instance, who believes neither in God nor in his own immortality, the moral law of namrt: ediately into the exact opposite of the former religious law, and that qoism, even to the point of mir-doing, should not only be permit-ted to m m but should be achowiedged as h e neassasy; the most reasonable, and all but h e noblest result of his situation, f 69-70)

Leaving aside for now the question of whether, or to what extent, Dos~evsk;y himself might agree with Ivan's words, let us consider what sort of knodedge they convey. At the most obvious level, h e y express the knovvledge that belief in immortality is a powerhl incentive, for moral bbehavior; indeed, the passage can be taken as the long version of IvanJsformula for the dependence of moraliq and love of humanity on religious faith. Though lacking Nietzsche" genealogical analysis, Ivan's '""solemn announcement" expresses clearly enough the howledge

that the idea of immortaliq a n be closely connected with a mordiq based on divine reward and punishment. The all-too-human desire for consolation and accusation, moreover, figures pramixzently in various discussions of immorta1i;t-ythroughout The Brothers Karamamv, It is noteworthy, though, that it is invariably the skeptics of the novel who voice notions of eternal reward and punishment. Xvan's disciple, lackey, and b a s ~ r dhalf-brother, Smerdyako~~ parrots a shallow version of Voltairearr skepticism, atlied with Jesuitical casuistry, in his "theobgical disputation" with the old Orthodox sewant, Grigory. In reference to a recent episode involving a Russian soldier aptured by Muslim insurgents in the Cauasus, who died under torture rather than renounce his Christian faith, Smerdyakov presents the following moral alculation: If I am taken captivt by the tormenters of Christian people, and rhey demand that I curse Go& n m e and renouna my holy baptism, then I'm quite authorized to do it by my ovvn reason, because there uuoulMt be any sin in. it . . . .Because as soon: as f say to my tormenters, "No,I" not a Chrigian arad I curse my true God:" then at dhely and qecifically become araathonce, by the higher divine judgement, f i ema, I'm mrsed and completely excommunicated from the Holy Church like a h a thener . . , so that wen at that very moment, sir, not as soon as I sily; but as soon as f just think of sayhg it ., . I'm mcommunicated , . , .h d since I'm no longer a Christian, it follows that I" not lying to my tormenters when they ask am I a Chrhtian or not, since God himself has alr~iidlydeprived me of my Christianiry; for rhe sole reason of my intention and before I even bad dme to say a word to my tormenters. h d if I" already demoted, then in. what way; with what sort of jugice can they call me to account in the oher wrZd, as if I were a CGkxriian?. . .But then it tvoulMt even come to torments, sir, for K at that moment f were t.o say unto that mountain: "move and crush my tormentor: it would move and in that same moment cmsh him like a cachoach . , , h t if precisely at that moment I tried all that, and deliberat* cried out to that mountain: 'Cmsh my tormentors"-and it didn't crush them, then how, tell me, should I not doubt then, in such a terrible hour of great mortal fear? I'd b o w . . .that I wun't going to reach the hluXIness of the Khgdom of Heaven (because rhe mountain didn't move at my word, so rhey must not tmst in. my faith there, and no very grmt reward awai~sme in the other wrld), so why, on top of that, should f let myself be Rayed to no purpose? . . .And so, why should I come out looking so especiauy to blame, if, f,seeiagno profit or reward here or there, f at least keep my skin on? (128-13 1)

In response to Smerdyakovk cunning c;alculation, Fyodor Karamazov, who is also very fond of aping the skpticism of Enlightenment philosophes, dedares:

" M a t nonsense! For that puyllgo straiet to hell and be roasted there like mutton." This old sensualist,""enlightened"" though he is, appears to be seriously preoccupied by the prospect of hell, half afraid of the retribution &at he ridicules in a conversation with Alyosha early in the novel: ""Surely it's impossible, I think, that the devils will forget to drag me down to their place with their hooks when I die*. . . If there are no hooks, the whole thing falls apart . . . because if they don't drag me d a m , what hen, and where is there any justice in the m r l d . . . because you have no idea . . .what a stinker I am!" (24) To what extent will the reader of this passage feel the stirring of a desire fox accusation at the thought that a reprobate like Fyodor Karannazxtv could indeed get off the hook of etemd retribution? And if Fyador might finagy elicit some sympathy from the reader, if only for the humor he provides, what of the torturers of chadren described by Ivan? Not only is Dostoevsb aware of the connection b e ~ e e nbdief in innmartality. and the desire to punish; he goes hrther than Nieasche in not permitting his readers to avoid the recognition that this desire can be strong within us aU,46 As we move from the shallow sdeeptics of the novel to Ivan (who is able to quote Voitaire without getting it wrong), tve encounter far more subdety in the discussion of heaven and hell. Ivan speaks of immortality in terms of an "eternal harmony, in which we are all supposed to merge" @(235),thereby acknowledging that Christian faith in its higher expressions can involve something more than the self-intereskd calculus of reward and punishment. Nevertheless, he insists that Christianity cannot dispense with the notion sf punishment altagether; for an eternal barmarry. without hell would be an eternal harmony without justice-but then, "where is the harmony if there is hell?" Ivan's Eudidean mind discovers what seems an irresolvable contradiction in Christianity b e ~ e e nforgiveness and justice; the Christian idea of immortality, even if true, would be incoherent. This incoherence, from Ivank point of view is most pronounced just where Christianity. shows itself at its best: among those who, like him, thirst for justice ("I need retribution, othewise I will destroy myseKn) at the same time as they are too compassionate to accept the spectacle of the suEering of others, even if deserved ("I want to hrgive and I want ta embrace, I don't want more suffering'" ((24G245). Even as he rgects the truth and the coherence of the idea sf immortality; Ivan nevertheless regards it as an idea that, properly employed, could serve human happiness and jusdce on earth. In the wards of the Grand Inquisitor, speakng of his Rock: ""Fr their own happiness we will entia them with a heavenly and eternal reward" [55lIf. The enticement of persond immortaliv is an important feature of the noble lie that eficits the voluntary sacrifice of individual freedom in &e Inquisitor" totafitarian order, This emphasis on belief in immortality as a restraint s n individual egoism is also evident in the "soXemn pronouncement" of Ivan, re-

parted by Miusov: "For every person . . .who believes neithier in God nor in his own immortality. . . . egoism, even to the point of evildoing . . . should be achowledged as the most reasonable . . . result of his situationl"7et for Nietzsche the idea of immortality is the apression of egoism, a colossally presumptuous egoism, The difference b e ~ e e nthe two is not, however*as significant as it might appear: According to Nietzsche, the idea of immortality.is an =pression of egaism; acmrding to Ivan, it is a constraint on egoism that nevertheless must ulrimately become an expression of egoism, since there is no other "law of nature." It might be said that, acwrding to Ivan's reaoning, egoism learns to curb itself by means of belief in God and immortality, and it does so from egoistic motives, Without such restraining beliefs, ""the life of the world" muld not continue; human life would descend into "anlhropopham'This reasoning finds its counterpart in Nie~sche'snoting of the capacity of the will to power to "qiritualize" itself, Eurthering its ends by means of moral and rdigious beliefs that only appear to deny it.4? Any who doubt Dostoevsws awareness of the egoistic possibilities inherent in the idea of irnmor~alitycan be referred to that gmtesque tale Bobok, in which we eavesdrop on the conversation of an entire ametery of corpses that have discovered that death is not "really" death. The conversation confirms the extension, even into the life afier death, of the same preoccupations that governed the lives of these people while they were ""up above," For instance, a former businessman complains about the debts owed him by certain other denizens of the cemetery (they retort that he always overcharged them, anvay); a bureaucrat with the rank of SQte Councillor wakes up and at once begins discussing with a Gexzeml a project for setting up a new departmental subcommittee and the probable transfer of officials in connection with it; and another elderly gentleman confesses his deske for a "nice little blonde . . .about fifieen years old . . .in circums.L;tncesjust like these."@ Thanhlly, this depressing spectacle of petv egaism and base desire is not perpetual; to borrow from Pdietzscfie, who could stand such a thought? As has been explained by the cemetery philosopher with the evoative: name of Platan (Russian for Plato), the extension of life is concentrated only in the consciousness and is of finite duration: "This is-X don't know quite how to put ita continuation of life as if by inertia . . . .For m o or three mon&s . . . sometimes even for half a year . . . .We have one person here, for instance, whose body has almost entirely decomposed, but every six tveeks or so he will. still suddenly mumble one word-meaningless of course-about a bean or somehing: "obok, bobok.' . . . We have two or three months of life and then, finally-bobokeW@According to Platon, these two or three monlfis have been given as a gift, an opportuniv for the soul to reach a new moral awareness, Ilowver, the inhabi~ntsof the cemeterlv;at the urging of a "charming rascal" fiam the ""pseudo-upper class,"

opt instead ta use this opportunity ta abandon all sense of shame, since the appearance of moral reaitude is no longer necessary or profitable. The appalled narrator-eavesdroppr a n n o t accept this "debauchery o f . . . final hopes" and he resolves to continue visiting cemeteries, listening everyhere far something more comforting.SQAnd there is, indeed, something other than the meaningless ""babok"" to be heard spoken h m beyond the grave in Dastoevsws art. There is also the hope expressed by the peasant-pilgrim Makar in the novel f i e Adolescent: "There's a limit to h w long a man is remembered on this earth .. .. Grass will grow over his grave in the ametery; the white stone over him will crumble, and evevone will forget him, including his own descendants because only very few names remain in people" mmeory. So, that's all a h t , . . . Yes, go on, forget me dear ones, but me, 1% go on loving you even from my grave . . . . Live for some time yet in the sunlight and enjoy yourselves while X pray for you .. ..Death doesn't t a k e any difference, for there's love after death tool"51 Dostoevsky"s hawledge of the all-taa-human egoism underlying the idea af immor~alityincludes within its scope something more besides-the possibility that the love of others, too, is a motivating factor. This possibility, absent in PJietzsche, can have a subtly transformative effect on the images of heaven and hell in Dostaevsvs fiction, In The Brothers Karamazov, for ins~nce,the Inquisitor's image of heaven as an enticing reward appeding to self-love is offset by the evoation of the post-resurrection life in the last lines of the novel, in the dial o p e bemeen Alyosha and the boys. Here the emphasis is entirely an the joy of loving others; in Kolya's words, the joy of seeing ""one another again, and everyone, and IlpsbechW (776). Love for the dead bay, Xlyushechka, fuels this hope of resurrection and to some degree restores him to life in the memory of his fiends. Here we- have Makais ""lve after death," but in this instance moving in the other direction, from the living toward the dead. In either case, the possibaity is raised &at the hope for i m m a r b l i ~can be inspired by the strength of our love for others, a love unwaing ta achowledge the findiv of death. The image of hell a n be transform& by love in an even mare striking manner. The hell with hook for d r a ~ i n gdown ""sinkers" like Fyodor Pavlovich is oExt by Zosima" definition of hell as "the sugering of being no longer able to love? As he explains: Once, in. hfifini.te existence . . .a cemin spiritual being, through his appearance on earth, vvas granted the abiliq to say to himelf: "I am and X love." . . .Once only, he was given a moment of active, Iti;lrz"aglove . , . .h d what then3 This fortulnate being rejected the invaluable gift, did not value it , . .was leff: unmoved by it. This beirng, havi~lgdeparted the earth . . , sees clearly and says to hhself: "Mow I have howle d ~and , though Z &irst to Iove, there wifX be no great deed in my love, no sacrifice,

for my earthly life is over . , . .Thou& I would gladly give my life for others, it: is not possible now, far the life I could have scrificed for love is gone? (322)

Zosimak words need carehl attation if misunderstanding is to be avoided. He (and Dostoevsky through him) is not proposing an amiable, sentimentalized Christianity in which hell is rdefned out of eistence. He does not eschew the possibility of "torment" for some, Mthough he m t s to speak of "spirituaI""torment rather than the crudely material "hooh" and "flames" ha@ned by Fyodor Karamx~ov,the former is nonetheless real, and even "far more terrible," Yet the distinaion b e ~ e e nmaterial and spiritual suffering still does not take us to the heart of the difference b e ~ e e nZosima's and Fyodor" images of hell. The issue is not the reaEq or even the form of the suffering but its soure; Zosirna proposes that we understand it as a sdf-induced inner s & t e & e state of those confionkdi by the love they have rehsed-ra&er than as externdly imposed punishment. In asima's vision of immartality, justice and love are brought together, as in the words of the seventh-century monk, St. Xsaac the Syian: "The sorrow which takes hold of the heart which has sinned against love is more piercing than any other pain. Xt is not right to say that the sinners in hell are deprived of the love of God . . . .But love acts in two different ways, as suffering in the reproved, and as joy in the bles%d*'*52 Zosimh understanding of hell in terms of love and the free refusal of love removes the suspicious traces of deliberate revenge, The suEering here is entirely self-inflicted rather than dhinely administered; the spectacle of this suffering, moreover, elicits nothing of that satisfaction on the part of the righteous that PJietzsche detects in Aquinas. According to Zosirna, on the contrary, the ri@teous would call the others to themselves, "loving them boundlessly;""perhaps even. bringng them thereby some relief (322-323). Ivan" formula, "There is no virtue if there is no immortality;""can no doubt be interpreted as a concise summary of a morality of divine command, founded on etemd reward and punishment, If there is no transcendent source of command, no divine parantor of eternal reward and punishment, if there is no God, then "everything is permitted." The brmula is all too frequentl-y interpreted solely along these lines by readers of Dostoevsb and by certain of Dostaevsws cbaracters-Smexdyakov most notably. Usuafly Xvan also appears to unders~ndit in this manner, but not always or entirely. Careful note should be &ken of this sentence in the w r d s reported by Miusov: "Were mankind" belief in its immortstlity to be destroyed, not only love but also any living power to continue the life of the world would at once dry up in it,'' The connection made here b e ~ e e nlove and immortaliq hints at an interpretation of the formula as expressing not so much a morality of divine command as a maraliy flowing spontaneously from

love. An understanding of virtue as the outcome of love rather than the desire for reward and fear of punishment is discernible in Dmitri"~variation on Ivan's formula: "HOWis [man] going to be virtuous wihout God? A good question! . . . Zieause whom will he love then-man, I mean?" (592) For Dmitri, the question is decidedy not " m o m will he fear then?"53 With this transformatirre impad of love on notions of immortality. and virtue in Df)astoevsk;yfsart, we have a response to the modern suspicion that the idea of immortaliv merely serves an egoism desirous of eternal reward and punishment. But what of the second reason tve have noted for the uncongenialiv of immartaliq to the modern sensibibiliql Nietzscfie" more Eundarnental indictment of the idea of immortality is &at it semes an impulse to devalue this life, funaioning as a means of ""bfouling the Here and i"3clw.'Xeside this identifimtion of irnmorblity with atheworldliness, let us place, once again, Ivan7swords: "Not only love , ~ wrds, contrary but also any living power to continue the Ife ttfthtze w ~ r l dThese to Nietzschek view, imply that the afirmation of life in this worM dlepenh on the idea of immortality. The phrase "depends on,? moreover, does not do jrxsdce to the boldness with which Dostoevsky himself actually ident$es immar~alivand ""lving life"; in A Writer2 Dz'ar)/t,to offer one explicit instance, he asserts that "the idea of immortality is life itself-"living lifem7(zhvaya-zhim 7.54

Immortality and the Affirmation of Life Dostaevsws assertion in A TVlri;ter"siary conhonts us with what is so striking& distindive in his treatment of the themes bath of immortality and of life. X think, too, that it takes us to the heart of his religious &sion, and therebre requires dose consideration, The identification of immortaliv with "living life" i s made within the context of an article entitled ""Unsubstantiated StatementsB-which, brief though it is, constitutes Dostaevsky's most explicit account of what the idea of immortaliq signifies for him, This article a n be seen as a pfiilosophicsllforeword to the question posed by Fyodor bramazov over cognac, the question embodied poetially &roughout The Brot-hersKaramaz~v, Dostoevsky"~"unsubstantiated statements" about immortitlity.are made in response to the written confe~ionaf a ""tagical suicide" (almost certainly penned by Dostoevsky himself).55 He aims, by means of this vivid first-person confession, to place the reader imaginativelywithin the mnsciousness of someone who b o w s and experiences life as having its end in annihaatlion. The focus at first is on the consequence for the ""I'of the vision of the finality. of becoming: All that ""I2naw with certainty; upon the renunciation of any consoling religious or metaphysial interpretation of my situation, is that wihout my willing it I have come into being and must also one day cease to be, and that my consciousness af

this f a is a source of suffering, The existence of the universe, and of human consciousness within it, appears to be the outcome of nothing but accident, in combination with ""dad laws of Nature." Yet even if there were some point to it all, some sort of "harmony of the whole: h i s means nothing to the ""IYacing annihilation: ".But as regards the whole and its harnnoxly; once I have been annihilated, I haven" t e least concern if this whole with its harmony remains after I am gone or is annhilated at the same instant as I am." This self-centered complaint only appears to corroborate Nietzsche" oobse~ationthat the desire for immortality is exp1icabl-e as an expression of egoism. However, the logical suicide's meditation does not end on this note, He considers the possibiliq of finding some meaning, same ""rconciliation" with the brute facticity of his situation, in the less selfcentered thought that if not ""Ibs an individual, then perhaps humanity. as a whole might atQin a hture happiness; my life can become meaninghl through a love for humanity issuing in constructive historial struggle. Yet, here again, the thought of the finality. of becoming, which applies to the species as much as to the individual, has a deadening impact: "Well, suppose I were to die but humanity were to remain eternal in my place; then, perhaps, I might still find some comfort in it. But our planet, after all, is not eternal, and humanity's &allottedspan is just such a moment as has been allotted to me, And no matter how. . .joyously, righteously; and blessedly. humanity. might organize itself on earth, it will all be equated tomorrow to that same empq zero."^^ The logical suicide denies the possibilit'y of finding meaning in a love for other human. beings whom one knows to be destined b r nothing but pointless extinction, despite a11 their hopes and their suEering. In his comxnent-;lryon this suicide's confession, Dostoevsky observes that the compassionate indignation aroused in h e lover of krumaniv by the spectacle of pointless human suEering withh an indigerent universe can be sublly transformed into an actual hatred of humanity.: ""Ijust the same fashion, it more than once has been noted how, in a family dying of starvation the father or mother, toward the end when the sufferings of the children have become unbearzzble, will begin to hate those same children whom they had previously loved so much, precisely because their suEering has become unFtearabkemS73%epsychological possibility of such a grim transbrmation is discernible to those who are sensitive, as Dostaevsb surely was, to the complex dparnics of compassion and suEering. It is a transformation embodied poetially in the transition korn the tone of indipant compassion expressed in Ivads stories of suffering children to the tone of contempt conveyed through the Inquisitor" words about his ""flock.'" The logical suicide" consciousness of the futiliq of human existence fosters wihin him a hatred of life, and suicide becomes his protest against having to endure a mute and indigerent tyranny."in which there is no w i l y par~."This a d

is meant ta illustrate, in extreme and dramatic fashion, the principal paint Dostoevsky. wishes to make in his "Unsubs~ntiatedStatementsD-that the idea of immortality binds people ""all the more firmly to the earth," This statement, he acknowledg-es, would seem to be a contradiction. m y should the promise of eternal. life lead one ta a%rm this life? This apparent contradiction, however, points to the truth that without the idea of immortali.fy, human mistence becomes "unnaturaX, unthinkable, and unbearable," The conviction of irnmortalir-y; then, is essential far human existence, and so, not surprisingly; it has been the norm among human beings; "and if that is the ase, then the very immor~alityof the human soul a i s t s wi& certainty" D~ostaevskythen condudes with the statement that the idea of hmartality. is ""fife itself, living life."sa Leaving aside the logical validity. of Dostoevsk-y"~ conclusion about the "artain" existence of immortality, I want to comment on two matters arising from his "Unsubstantiated Statements." first, despite Dostoevsky's fiequent use of the phrase immortality ofthe soul, it would be out of place to conclude that he therefore understands immorlttlity more in the manner of Plato than Paul. The diference in emphasis b e ~ e e nthe symbols of Uimmorlttlsoul" and '%resurrected spiritud body" mi@t indeed be siwificant; but for Dostoevsky, such a difference is minimal in the face of tfie notion that all human lives end in "&at same empq zero," His language is not intended to specify a theoretical position on the nature of irnmorbfiv but merely ta assert its realiq as against the ""empty zero," In making this assertion, he employs the tarns of philosophy rather than biblkal. faith because his "unsubstantiated statements" are a response ta the argument of a ""Xogical suicide.""Dostoevsws concern here, as in the novels, is to condud a dialogue with atheism that is immediately accessible to all those willing to enter thoughtfully into it. Upon closer scrutiny, it becomes apparent that his favored phrase immortalityofthe soul functions as a kind of shorthand for an affirmation about human existence also expressed, in the space of a few pages, in such "the whole higher meaning phrases as "higher idea," "Egfier ideal of e~stence,"" and signifiance of life," and the "higher sense of life." One could add ta these phrases Zosima" evocation of the ""sense of our bond with the higher heavenly world.""Dostoevsky"~primary concern in the face of the modern reduction of human existence to an entirely naturalistic mplanation is to affirm, nevertheless, a higher level of reality to which human beings have experiential access, Of the various m r d s and phrases that might be used to express this aErmatlion-Cod, the other world, the higher sense ofEfet the immorlality ofthe soul-he @vespreference in his article in A WriterWBraryta the last, perha-gs beause it symbolizes at once the higfier reality and its relation ta the human individual: "There is only one higher idea on earth, and it is the idea of the immortality of the human soul, for aU other %higher ideashf life by which humans might live derivefom that idea

alone, Others m;ly dispute this point with me (about the unity of the source of all higher &ings . . . ), but I am not going to get into an argument just yet and simply set forth my idea in unsubstantiated form, It cannot be explained all at once, and it will be better to do it little by little. There will be time to do this in the htureemSg My second comment concerns Dostoevsky" assrzrtion that the idea of immortality "binds people all the more firmly to ear&," This might indeed seem to be a "contradiction," as Dostoevsky himself acknowledges; but the mntradiction disappears if in fact human beings are beings that Gannot live happily on the ear& wi&out a sense of the ""higher meaning and significance of life." The human need for meaning is the theme of a haunting image found in The House of the Dead (the novel-memoir based on Dostoevsky2 experience in a Siberian labor camp)-an image evocative of the myth of Sisypbus: The thought once occurred to me that if one wanted to cmsh and destroy a mm endrely, t.o mete out to him the most terrible punishment, one at which the most fearsome murderer tvould tremble, shsiding from it hadvance, alI one w u l d have to do tvould be to make him do w r k that tvas compleely and unerly &void of use&hess and meaning .. . , If, let us say, he were forced to pour watw from one tub into another and back again, t h e a&ert h e , to pound sand, to a r r y a heap of soil from one spot to another and back aph-1 think that such a c o n ~ cwauld t bang himself within a few Clays or commit a rhousand oeences in order to die, to escape &am such degradadon, shame, and tormente6@

This vision of the unendurabl-e absurdiv of forced labor without aim or purpose can be taken as an analowe for metaphysical absurdity. The manner in which the idea of immo~afitycan confer higher meaning on the universe-a meaning sppatfretic to the deepest human aspirations-is important to Dostoevsws identification of "Eving life" with immorbli~.However, such. an explanation still remains too much on the level of &eov3as though the need for meaning were primarily an intellectual need, to be satisfied by the advancing of theoretical propositions to which mental cansent is giwn or denied. Underlying the logicaf argumentation of the suicide" '%sentencemagainst Xife is something else, as he achowledges: ""Xnnot be happy under the condition of the nortzingness that threatens tomorrow. This is a feeling, a direct feeling, and I cannot oveircome it." h his commentary on this ""sezrtence,""Das~evskryspeaks of the loss of a "higher meaning in life" as a bss experienced in the form of ""unconscious anpishPGl References to ""unconscious anguisfr""and to ""Eee-lings"that cannot be overcome are undeniably (and perhqs necessaray) imprecise, but they sufice to make clear that for Dostoevsky the question of immortality. is some-

thing more than a matter of theory. or doctrine. To reduce religious faith, or its absence, to a matter of belief or unbelief in propositions is to commit the same error Smerdyakov commits in his preposterous beologial disputation with the old servant Grigory; Even as he disputes the doctrinal propositions (which are secondary), he remains oblivious to the primary experience that the doctrines symbolize, The entire dispubtion, like much of the modern debate b e ~ e e nbelief and unbelief";moves within a realm of insubs~antialshadow, within what Erk Voegelin has called the "subfieild of doctrinaire eistence."a For Dostoevse, faith in iisnmor~alivis not a doctrinal belief held in the mind; it is an experience of the heart, Similarly, in identifying immortali~with ""2ving life,""he is not advancing a theoreticspl proposition but is appealing to an experience of the whale human being.63 k t , is it not a paradox to speak of the aperigace of immortality? No more paradoxical than speaking of immortality as living lfe; and if it is indeed so, then one vvcluld expect intimations of immortality to be -vouchsafed within human lik-experience. It is precisely such intimations that Dostoevsky attempts to convey through his art-fbr instance (and especially), in the experknce of love. We are brought back yet again to the relationship in Dostoevsky bemeezr imrnortaXity and love. Having already explored the manner in which the idea of irnmorblity can be transformed in his work by love, we must now consider how the experience of love points to the reality of irnmorta2ity.a In response to Mrs. Khakhlakov%'%evastating'%orry about immortality; a s i m a has this to say: "No doubt it is devastating, One cannot prove anpbing here, but it is possible to be convinced . . .by the experience of active love. Try to love your neighboss actively and tirelessly The more you succeed in loving, the more you'll be convinced of the eAsteace of God and the immortaliv of your soul" (56). Ivan's formula empbasi~sthe dependence of love of neighbor on belief in irnmortaliq; but here Zosima reverses the .t-grms,It is this possibiliq-that the conviction of immorta2ity can depend on the practice of love of others-that seems most alien to what Nietzsche haws. For what he h o w s is that "by prescribing %we of the neighbar,"the ascetic priest prescribes hnhmentally an excitement of the strongest . . .drive, even if in the most cautious doses-namely; of the will to power."@ According to Nietzsche's suspicious interpretation, in all our doing good to others, tve are actually experiencing the pleasure of our superioriry; Mietzscbe's discussions of love invariably become discussions of power. For him, the struggle. b e ~ e e nlove and egoism is an unequal one, and this holds true whether it is a matter of agape or eras, the latter being only a more ingenuous expression of egoism, The following observation is represenative: ""Sxual love betrays itself most cleari-y as a lust for possession: the lover desires unconditional

and sole possession of the person for whom he longs; he desires equally unconditional power over the soul and over the body of the beloved.""""ltjietzsche does not believe even in the a p a c i v of eros to enable us, at least temporarily; to transcend self-love toward love of the other, Dostoevsb3too, is far from sanguine about the human capacity. for selfless love. Even Mrs. Gofilakov has the sense to realize that the active love advocated by Zosirna is no easy matter; for she is sensitive to her own need for gatitude h m those she would helip, Zosima, too, speaks of love of neighbor as a serious struggle and a "whole scknce," and above all, as somehiag that gains redit7 onIy through active expression "in the flesh""; so long as it remains merely an easily ~ a ""pantom" "G$?).In available, abstract sentiment, it has no more r e a b than the realm of eros as well as that of agape, Dostoevsws art is painhlly alive to the permutations of power and egoism that can so closely accompaxly.love, Indeed, Motesfi-snz the Undmground can be read as an artistic case-study of sexual love as lust for possession. The Und~groundman bears stark witness to the struggle ber-tveen egoism and love in his words: " h a s no longer capble of. . . love because .. . in my terms love meant fyranny and moral superiority. Alil my life I've been unable even to imagne any other kind of love and I've reached the point where at t k e s I think that love consists of the right to tyrannize that the loved one keely gives the loved%e bears witness to the struggle alio in his shocking action at the decisive moment in the story when the gift of love is offered him by the prostitute Liza: X was humiliated and so X wmted to humiliate someone else; X had had my face rubbed in the mud, and so I uuanted to show my power . . . .She m s siEing on the

Roar, leaxaing her head again&the bed, and she must have been cryhg. . . .Xly now she already h e w eveEyrfiing. I had ZhorougMy insulted her, but . . .there's no need to go into &at, She had eessed that my fit of passion was simplly revenge, a new humiliation for her . . . , She ft;tlLyunderstood that f was not in a condition to love her.67

We are a long way here from the selfless love preached by Zosima, though we are still within the realm of what Dostaevsb knew*and knew thoroughly. Dostoevsk;yfstvritings compel. us to ask: m a t does the experience of love reveal, exept the power of human egoism?h d this question brings us firxnjy back to what Mie~zscheknows: that the Underground man's experience of love as v a n n y and submission reflects trufifully, albeit crudely, any possible experience of love, Crudely>because Nie~zschevalued highly those phenomena of life-love among them-that signifk.a "qirituaiimtion""of more prim4 drives. Givhg due weight to the importance he ascribes to this spiritualizing process, we must nev-

ertheless conclude that his interpretation of love is reductive; what is "higher" is understood ultimately in terms of what is "lowe29l~orNieasche, the most fundamental drive, of which all other drives "are only developments,""is the will to power, %ere is, in his words, no other ""pycbic force" at work wiain us; here cannot be, since there is no other force at work within life itsdf," To quote Nietzsche's most explicit summary of his position, in Beyond Good and Evil: "Life itsdf is essential& appropriation . . .overpowering of what is alien and weaker . . .imposition of one" own forms, incorporation and at least, at its mildest, exploitation . . .because life simply is will to power."69 The aka-too-human egoism underlying the genesis and the appeal of the idea of immortality is a fundamental expression of life itself"Because trbe idea of imrnortafity arises out of the sugering of a weak will to power revenging itself against life, it presents us with the spectacle of life turning against life, Xn the face of this spectacle, Zarathustra urges his listeners to turn away from the illushn of other, higher worlds, and to love this earth, krhaps we-can thus define the truly fundamental point of di-vergencebemeezr PJietzsche and Dostoevsky: For Dostoevsky, the experience of love can, in the end, be an experience of love; it is not always reducible to some lower redit7 of which it signifies a ""sirituaiimtion."" The struggle b e ~ e e negoism and love depicted in his work (e.g., in Notesp~rrrthe Ilizdergraund) cannot be interpre.ted away as a conRict of more or less spiritualkd ""dives" or "affects" mlminating in the victory of the strongest oneemThe Underground man himself>and Dostoevsky with him, insists on his keedom-a real freedom, situated among real alternatives. The Underground man%failure to accept and to give love is a reflection on him rather than on the essence of life itself. For Dostoevsk.y;the authentic experience of Xove, in spite of our egoism, remains possible because love has an independent redity. Or to put it more precisely: Love's source is not in something less than love but in the perfection of love. Against the tendenq exemplified in Nietzscfie to explain what is higfier in terms of what is lower, Dostoevsk-ythrough Zosha insists on explaining what is already high by what is yet higher: "The roots of our thoughts and kelings are not here but in other worlds. . . .God took seeds kom oher wrlds and sowd them on this earth . . . and evervhing that could sprout sprouted, but it lives and grows only hrough its sense of being in touch with other mysterious worlds; if this sense is weakened or destroyed in you . . . then you become indifferent to lik, and even come to hate it" "(320). That other, higher world of which Zosirna speaks is not aloof from or opposed to this earth; rather, the whole of creation is pervaded by divine love and divhe life. That is why the experience of love can be an intimation of other worlds, or of immortality. And that is why ""lving life" and ""imrtality" are so dosely. identified with one another in Dostoevsky"~vision. The category of "otherwrld-

liness,""with its attendant charge that there has been a devaluing of this world, is plainly indequate in the face of Dostoevsws sense of irnmorbliq. Let us recall the general method of Nietzscfiek cri~queof the ""imortal-soulhypothesis," Acknowledging that we cannot have logical certainq concerning its truth or falsity, he undertakes to expose its suspicious associations-with a morality based on egoistic incentives of eternal reward and punishment, and with an othemortdly orientation that functions as a covert revenge taken by the weak, unhappy, and disappointed against Iik itself. As we have seen, Dostoevse was acutely aware of the possibiliq of such a critique, and moreover, of its justifiabiEty-but only up to a point. His art evinces a clear distinction bemeen more ; and less deficient modes of Christian unders~ndingof h m o r ~ l iit~~tnesses, furthermore, to a Christianity of love rather than of egoism, and of lifeaffirmation rather than life-denid. Nor is this a matter of some private Christimity of Dostoevsws own concoction; Zosima is, as we have already noted,71 carehlly situated within a living, historically visible tradition. Dostoevsky's Christian art demonsmtes a capacity to share, and then to transcend, Mieesche's suspicious analysis. Vet the same openness does not characterize Mietzsche in relatlion to Dastoe-vskyJsChristian faith, Save the priznav distinction b e ~ e e Jesus n and Christianity that he makes in fie Anti-Christ, Nietzscfie tends to treat the latter as though it were a monolithic phenomenon e ~ s t i n gsolely on the level of dogmatic propositions concerning the "sacrificial death,""the "Resurrection," the ""Second Qming,""the "Last Judgment," and "prsond immortal it ye'"^ For all his psychologist's which sometimes hits the mark so perfectly; Nieaschds subtlety and ddlt'cate~se~ critique of Christian faith is highly selectiw in comparison with Dastoevskyfs. Xndeed, it appears that Nietzsche contravenes what should be a ardinal rule of the inteUectua1 conscience: that a phenomenon, especially a complex one, be judged according to its higher manifes.ksttions as well as its lower ones, Dostoevsws idea of irnmortali~not only eludes Nie~sche"charge of ""otherworldliness" but also reverses its diredion, From the perspective expressed in %sima% wards about being "in touch with other mysterious worlds,))the &ortation of Zarathustra to aamm earhly life by turning away from ""otEreworldly hopes" i s a recipe br indifference toward, and even hatred of, life, Although PJietzsche and Dostoevsky h o w much in common, the former h e w Iik as will to power and the latter h e w it as divine creatlion. Xn this hndamental diference, their dialogue reaches an impasse. h y attempt at a conciuding assessment as to who knows more truthfulfy is rendered especially problematic by the question mark that Nietzsche has placed beside ""trttth." In Nie~sche"thought, the value of truth is estirnal-gd in relation to the higher priority of "lifeJ' ciselySthe ""peservation," ""exlancement,""and ""ai6rmatian"of life.7-~n accord,

then, with Nietzsche" own highest criterion for assessing the value of a teaching, let us pose this question: m i c h vision of fife-as will to power, or as divine creation-is more conduciw to its aErmation? Zosirnds exhortation to "kiss the earth and love it . . . insatiably" (322) has its justification in a vision of the vvclrld and af human beings that supports and enhances the very love he advocates. arathustrds ehortation to be faitfithl to the earth, in, contrast, appears a stark choice of the will, justified-if at aU-h a negative manner, as the only alternative there is to nihaism. Vet a nihaist rejection of lik remains a11 too possible. It would seem that PJietzsche has nothing to say to the ""logical suicide,""save to condemn the w e b e s s of wiU that has made him weary of the game of fife and unable to will himself into the Nietzscfiean projea of deifying becoming and calling it "~ggod,"74 As for the last word on the question of immortality, let us grant that to a man who is looking death in the face: that loquacious and rather pompous, but strangely lawble representative of liberal humanism, Stepan Trafimovich fin knzorrs), whose final change of heart was discussed in Chapter 3. Afier administering the sacrament of extreme undion to the dying man, the priest speah in a deciiiedly .. .weU, ""piestly" manner: "In our sinful time . . .faith in the Alirnighv is mankins"s sale refuge from all the trials and tribulations of life, as well as the only hope for etemd bliss, promised to the ri&teous." Here we have, concisely expressed, the very idea of h m o r t a l i ~ that is so uncongenial to the modern sensibilit-y; And Stepan" response? "Mon @re, je vous remercie . . . mais . . . '' ("Thank you, Father, but . . . "") Stepan's mmais does not impi-y a rejedion of the idea of immortality but a different way of expressing the idea, in which the emphasis is not on blissful rewrd for the righteous or on the disparagement of iik brat on the reality of love: My immortality is nemssary if only because God will not want to do an injustice and ut-terly a i n p i s h the fire of Iove far him once h d l d in my heart, h d what is more precious than Iove? Love is hi&er than being, Iove is the crovvn of bBng; and is it possible for being not to bow before it? Xf 1 have come to Iove him and rejoice in my love+-is it possible he should eainpish both me and my joy and turn us into nothing3 If here i s God, then X arn immortal! Voild ma profsion defoi.75

Notes l. Fyodor Uostoevsky, The Unpublished L>clstoevsk~vol. 3, ed. C.R. Proffer ( h n Arbor, Mich,: Ardis, 19731,p, 175. 2. Paul Ricoeur, The Corsflict oflnte-erpretaE-iorrs:Essqs in Hermeneutics, ed. Don Ihde f Evanslon, Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 19741, pp. 4 4 2 4 3 .

3. V o k r Diirr, Reinhold Grimm, and b t h y Harms, eds., Mietachs tirerahdre and Vialues (Madison: Universiky of Wisconsin Press, 19881, p. 69, 4. Fyodlor Dostoevsky, Notes from rhe Underground, trans, lane kntish (Odortt: Qxford Universiv Press, 199l), p. 7, 5. PauX Ricoeur, Freud and Philosophy: An Essay on Interpreta~on,trans. Benis Savage (New Haven: Yale Usversiky Press, 1970), p. 33, The italics are Ricoeur2ss, 6. For Nietzsche" tribute to Bogowsky as a psycfiologisf, see T ~ l i g hofl-he t IdoS trans, R,], HolXingdaJe (New York fingain, 19681, p. 99, 7. For more oa this distinction between a reductive and a recolfectiw ktermeaeutical practice, see Ricoeur, Freud and Philosophy: h Essay on Inte~reation,pp. 28-32, 8. Fyodor Ct~stoevsb~ The NoteFebooks for Cfhe Brothers Karamazov, d.and trans, Edward Wasialek (Chicqo: Universiv of Chicago Press, 19";71),pp, 75,79. 9. See his letter of 24 Aupst 1879 to Konstantin Pobedonostsm, in Selected I;eEers of Fyodar Dostoevskx eds. Joseph F r a d and Bavid X. Goldstein, trans, h d r m R. M a c h drew (London: Rutgers University Press?1987),p, 486, 20. Wliam BIake, "The Marriage of Heaven and Hell:" in idern, Cowrplete Wrl'tz'ngs,ed. Geo&ey k p e s ( M o r d : Odord University Press, 19661, p, 150, 2 E. See AIberr Garnus, The Rebel, trans, Anthony Bower (New York: b o p f Books, 19541, pp. 55-6 l. 12. Serren Kierkegaard, Training in Chrliftianiy, trans. Wafter towrie (Princeton: Princeton Universiv Press, 19411, p. 126. 13, Aeschylus, Prametheus Bound, trans. Veilaco~(New York Penguin, 1961), p. 24. 14, Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, trans. Wafer Kaufmann (Mew York: Random House, 19661, p, 32. 15. For more an PJiet~chekreading of Dostoe~sk~ see %chard EE1io.t-eFriedmaa, The Hidden Face of God (San Francixo: Harper, 19951, chapter 7; Mihajlo Mihajfov, Miefzscl-re in Russia (Princeion: Princeion Universiq Press, 19861, pp. 137-139; CA. MaIer, "Nietzsche's '"Uiscave~'of Dostoevsh: Nkmcitre-Swdien, vol. 2 (1873), pp. 202-257. 16. Friedrich Paietzsche, The Gay Science, trans, WaI~erbufmann (New York tiTintage Book, 2 9741, p. 76, 27. Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil, p. 72. Concerning the reference to Moses, see Exodus 4: 10, 18. Friedrich liiietzsche, The Antr'-Christ, trans. R.& Holliingdale (New York: R n e i n , 19681, p, 149, 2 9, Nie~sche,T ~ l i gthof the Idols, pp, 69-70, 20, The phrase ""kiIEing compassion" is used biy Stanley Hauerwas in his LT.ispcatches fiorn the Front: neological Engagements with the Secular (Durham, M.C.: Duke University Press, 19941, chapter 10. Speaking particularly of issues being raised through flte practice of medicine (euthanasia, for instance), he remarks wryly that "confronted with this kind of kUing compassion, one is tempted to Ziterdly kill compassion'"(Xbid,, p. 165). Hauerwas, however, t h i d s "there is no question that the mast c~mpassionatemotivation often lays behind calls to eliminate retardation, for helping the oZd to die without pain, for insuring that no unwanted children axe born, and so on" "bid,, p, 164).Although much depends on how oae hiergrets ofien, this statement seems to underestimate the inRuence of a popular Nietxscheanism near the heart of ethical decisionmking an these matteterg. In heir essay on "The b n p a g e of Euthanasia: George and ShBla Grant warn of the im-

pli~ationsof an innocent-sounding phrase such. as "quality of Iiife": "Decidons for euthanasia based on 'quality of life' assume that we are in a position to judge when someone else's life is not worth living . . . .Quality of life' has a persuasive ring about it. To repeat, we all want a good life. But where do the implications of the slogan l e a d m e n it is used so as to imply that some people have the right to judge that o&ers do not have the right ta be, then its political implications lead straight to wtalitaria~sm,It must be remembered that 'quality of life' was made central to politicat tfiought by the philosopher Nierzsche* ("The Language of Euthanasia:" in Technology and Justice [Toronto: Anmsi, 19861, p. 115). 21, Friedrich Nietzxhe, Thus Spoke Zarathusrra, trans, Wdter b u b a n n f New Virrk: Penguin, 19661, pp. 61-62. 22. Ibid., p, 101. 23. Nietzsche, B~eyondGood and Evil, p. 201. 24. Mbert: Camus, Resktanee, Rebelliorz, and Death, traxzs. Fstin O"Brien (New York Kandom House, 19741, p, 69. 25. Cf. Nkatzsche, mms Spoke Zarathustrtz, pp. 85-86. 26. Nie~sche,Beyond Good and Evil, p. 83. 27. Ibid., pp, 41-42. 28, See, for instmce, Robert Bebap, The Genesis of The Brothers Karammov (Evanston, Ill,: Moahwestern University Press, 19901, chapter 8; Nina Perlhat, kriedes ofjr)oebc UEterance; Qeroalz'on in The Brahers Karamamv (New York Universiv Press of b e r i m ) , pp. 9e-95, f 36135, f 60-161. 29. For an illuminating discussion of the merits and the limits of B&dn"s approach to reading Dostoevsky, see Jacques Calteau, Dostoev.sky and the Procm of L i t m y Creation f Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 19891, pp. 332-334. Caneau argues persuasively that "polyphony has its limits and does not =plain everything." 30. Samuel Becke~,Wax'tr'ngforGodot (NW York: Grove Press, 19541, p. 28, See also Joseph C, McLeHand Prometheus Rebozkncf:The Irony QfAt-heism(Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfuid Laurier Universip Press, f 9881, pp. 5 M 2 ; and Paul Ricoeur, f i e Coapict oflnte-erpreta$ions, p. 445, Mcklland speak of the God of ""cassical thei~m'~; Rimeur, following Heideger, speaks of the God of "onto-theolol;y" 3 1. Nieasche, Beyond Good and Evil, p. 66. 32. Dostomsky, The Noteboohfor The Brothers Karamamx p. 76. The iblics are Dostoevsws. 33, See the article of Deamber 1876, "Unsubstmtiated Statements," in Fyoclor Dostoevsky, A Writer's Diay, trans. Kenneth tantz (Evans~n,Ill.: Northwestern University Press, 19941, which is discussed in, detail later in &is chapter, 34. Fridrrrm, The Hidden Face of God, p, 2 10, 35. For a more detailed religio-historical situating of Zosirna, see the discussion in Chapter 3 under the subhead "$ea&nng for Christ: The Elder Zosima's Amunt of Meaning in Hi&ory;f" 34. See, for instiunce, Dostomsky's letter of 25 Auest f 879 to Konstantin Pobedonostsev; in Selected Letters ofFyohr Dostoevs@>pp. 48S487, Xmtead of providing a point-forpoint response, however, Dostoevsky informs Pobedonostev &at he intends to present a s i m ' s teaching as an alternative vision, ""ian aflistic picture." 37. This is Mtirz"s wording in his amack on Ivm's formula. Although a ""sexninarist:" KaEth is also a "careerist" who does not hesitate ta mouth the fashionable platitudes of

secular liberalism: "And did you hear his [lvm'sj stupid theory just now: 'If here is no immorta1il-y of the soul, then there is no virtue, and therefare everphing is permi~edf,. . His whole heory is squalid. Mankind will find strenM in itself to live for virtue, even without b d i e ~ n gin the immortaliq of the soul! Find it in the love of libew, equali~? fraternity" f 82). 38. Dostowsky, The Notebooks for The Brothers &ramam% pp. 74,82, 39. Hans Jonas, Nortaliv and MoraEip: A Seareh for the Good After Auschwitz (Evanston, IU,: Northwester: University Press, 19961, p. 115, 40. See Victor Terras, A Karamazov Companio~(Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 198l), p. 259, 41. Nietzsche, n a s Spoke?Zarathustra, pp. 13,31. The italics are Nietzsche's. 42. For a clear, judicious accou& of Nie&sche3smethod and style sf arpxnentation in regard to the "God-hypothesis" or the ""soul-ltypothesis: see Richard Schacht, Niemche (London: Roudedge and Kegan Paul, 19831,pp. 122-530. Jonas's approach, though by way of defending the idea of immortality, is shilar to Nietzschr;"~ in distirspishing b e ~ e e n rtality (ubovuable) and the meaning of the idea for human beings: "htranscendental, the object of the idea-immortality itself-is beyand proof or disproof; it is not an objea of howledge, But the idea of it is, Therefore the intrinsic meriB of its meanirxq:become the sole measure of its credibiliq" (Mortality and 1Morality;p. 115). 43, Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Ggnealggy of Morals, trans, Walter Kaufmann (New Virrk: Random House, 1967), p. 49. The italics are rJietzscheas. M. Ibid., p, 1 4 . The implication of Nietzsche's sstateme-nt-that even if there w r e a God, he would cemhliy not "give a dmn'%bout the moral piXt and aspirations of his pious followers-brings to mind the f~lquisitor% statement that even if there w r e "an$ing in the nexr world, it w u l d not, of course, be for such as they""1l). 45, Nie&sche, Twilight ofthe Idols, p, 87. 46. Myosha himelf is susceptible to this desire to punish (just as he h susceptible to the whole r a g e of human ""broadness" described by Dnnitri; see 108-109). Were, h r instance, is his immediate response to lvam"s harrowhg account of the retircld general who set his dogs on. an eight-year-old serf-boy; in front of the bofs mother: "%hoot him!%lyosha said softly, looking up at his brother with a so& of pale, misted smite:To which k m respan&: "'(A fine monk you are! See what a little devil h sitting in your heart, MyosMa Karam~ov!"' (242-243). For Zarathustra's warnkg against those "in whom the impulse to punish is powerSulP see Thus Spoke Zarathustra, pp, 10&101, arathustra associates this impulse particularly with the modern "preachers of equali~.'%ivea the palitid context of Iwn's gory about the serf-by, it would seem that Bosloevs@, like Nietzsclte, is especially sensitive to the role played by the desire to punish in the modern idealo@esof the left, In this context, the reader mi&t wish to refer to Chapter 6 for a discussion of efie "retributive" versus the "restorative" visions of justice, The former is clearly associated with Ivan, 47. See, for inaance, On The Geneaiog ofMorah, pp. 8685: "The endre inner world, origindly as thin as if it were stretched b e ~ e e ntwo membranes, expanded and eaended itsdf acquired depth, breadth and height, in the same measure as outward discharge tvas inhibited, , . . Let us add at o n e that . . .the mistence sxx earth of an animal soul f~lrxled against itself,t&ng sides agahst itself, was something so new, profound, uheasd of, enigmatic, and pregnant wilh a ferhare that the aspect of the earth was essentially altered," 48, Dostoevsb?A Writ.er"sDiar)l, vol. f ,pp. f 78-18 1.

49, Ibid,, g. 182.

50, Ibid., p, 185. 51. Fyaclor Dostoevsk*?"heAltolescent, trans, Andrew R. Machdrew (NewYork Doubleday?f 972), pp. 358-359, 52. St. Xsaac is quoted in Wadirnir Losky, The Mystr"eal Theoklgy afthe Eastern Church (London: jmes Clarke, 19571,p. 234. Refleaion on this obsewation of St. IsaacS could act as a helpiEuX.corrective to the common view that Christianity mu&be faced with the eitheror of placjllg the emphasis on moral judgment (risEng harshness) ox an Iove f r i s h g bland sentimenalism). 53, Again, this emphasis on virtLIe prompted and sustained biy love, rather than by fear and desire, should not be regarded as a modern sentimentalizing of Christiani-~y(Ferapont's charge against his monastic rival Zasirna). Compare, for instance, Dnnitri"~ words to those of Martin Luther in his Trea~seon Good Works,"The First Co Second Table of Moses; no. 17 in Selected Writ.ings afMartr'n Ltrthex, ed, T. G. Tappert: (PEladelphia: Fortress, 1967). 54. Dostwsky, A Writermiary, voZ. E, p. 736. 55, For the written confesdon of the "Eogicd suicide" and Dostoevsws "unsubstmtiated statements" in rreponse, see Bostoevsky, A Writer's Diary, vol. 1 , pp, 653-656, 732-736, 56. Ibid., pp. 65M55, 57. Ibid., p, 735, Txx a sirnfiar win, note these remark by StanXey Hauenvas: "A kind of madness empts in our modern souls when we confront the suf"ferhgof our world. How eIo you work to care for some when not all can be cared for? We thus work to save stawing children, and by keeping them alive they have even more chLldren who annot be fed. Thus compassion perpetrates cruelty, and we are driven mad by such hodedge. Some in their madness turn to strate&es that require them to sacrifice present generations in the hope of securing a better hture for those who are ZeA, All in the n m e of compassioxlt" f Dspa&hes From the Front, p. 165), 58, Dostomsky,A Writer's Diary, vol. f, pp, 656,733,736, The italics are Bostoevsky"~, 59. Ibid., p. 734. The iltdics are in the ori&nd, Z)o&oevsbhimelf, as we11 as the fictional narrators of his novels, are given to promising further daborations or explanations, which never come. Howmer, we can justifiably regard The Brothers Karatnmv itself as the intended future substmtiation of Dostowsky's claims, 60. Fyodor Bostomsb, The House of tlae Dead, trans, Bavid McBuff ( N m York Penp i n , 1985),g. 43. 61. Boslowsb, A Writermiary, voZ. E, pp. 654,736. 62.1%is wonderkXXy illuminating to read the ""disgutation" b ~ e e Smerdyaksv n and Grigory (book 3, chap. 7) in conjunction with Eric Voegdh's analysis of the sequential phenomena of ""original aaount, d o p a t i c aposition, and skeptical a r ~ m e a t "in "hmortality: hperience and SpbofP in The Gotlecr;ed Works of Eric Voegelz'nXlj, ed, Ellis Sandoz (Baton Rouge: Louisima State University Press, 1990).The remark about the "subfidd of doctrinaire e~stence"is found on p, 67, In the l din's account, an immensely musing hterchange show itself to be also an serious parody of the mmner in which much htellectual debate concerning religious questions, on the part of people with far more formal ehcation than these senrants possess, can miss the point entirely. Note also Prince Miysmn's [email protected] his conversation with "a very learned" atheist, in 4"he Idiol: '3 was glad of the opportuniq of t a l b g to a real scholar. He is, more-

over, m exaedingly mlI-bred person, and he taked to me as hough X were his equal in. knowledge and ideas. He doesdt bdiwe in God*One thing struck me, though: he didn't seem to be t a h n g about that at all &e whole dme . . . . Before, too, whenever X met unbelievers and however many of their books f read, I could not help feding &at they w r e not tallring or writing about that at all, zhough they may appear to do so . . . .The essence of religious feding . . is somehkg entirely different and it will always be so; it is somehirng our atheis%wiU always overlook and they will never r& about t h t " (Fyoetar Dostomsky, The Idiot, trans, David Magarsfiack [New'Visrk:Penguin, 19553, pp. 251-253). 63. Doslomsws v i m of the relationship between reason and religious faith is often mbunderstood, He tends to be regarded as a proponent of a radical cleavage b e ~ e e n&e two, where= his a a a l view is that the human beirng's seme of God and i pendent upon a capacity of a difirent order &an. reason, razlher than simply opposed to it-a s p i r i ~ aapacity* l which he cdled the "hea~:Tor a detailed dismssion of his understanding and use of the word heart in distirxaion from remon, and of the philosophicd and theological sources ~ o which m he drew, see Bruce Ward, Dostqewky's C~lr'qzzeof the West: The Qlrestfclr the Earth@iF"aradise (Waterloo, Ont.: WiIfrid taurier Universiq Press, 1986),pp. 136139. 64.011the subject of linthations of immortality vouchsafed in living experience, one might point to the sort of "mystical" experience to which Kirillov attests in Demons: "There are seconds, they come only five or six at a t h e , and you suddenly feel the presence of eternat harmony, hlly achieved, It is nothing earthly; not &at it's heavenly, but man cmnot endure it in his eafi1y state , . . . The feeling is clear and indisputable, As if you suddenly sense the whole of nature and suddedy say: yes, this h true . . . .This . . .this is not tenderheartedness, but simply joy . , , .N a t k most frie;fiteningis that it's so terribly clear, and &ereis such joy. Xf it were Ionger than five secondethe soul couldn? endure it and would w i s h , Txx rhose five seconds X five my life &rough, and far h e m T m l d gl've my tvhoZe life, because it's tvoflh it" (Fyodor DosmevsQ, Demons, trans, Richard Rvear and Larissa Volo&onsk [MewYork Alked A* h o p f , 19941, pp, 590-592). However, Shatov, in response to KiriUov's acwunt of his mystical experience, warns him that "&is is precisely how the falling sickness s&rtsP Myshkin, in The Idiot, is also m epileptic, and he describes a transient experience of "eternal harmony'"e7 shilar to Kiriflov"s,Me also achowledges that this in~zrition.of eternity is renetereel suspect by its dose association with diseae (see me Idht, pp. 25&-25%).As is well hown, Dostomsb himelf suffered from epilepsy and it h likely that MysWxlis doubts convq his o m . Such an inthation of irnm o r t a E ~is a11 too susceptble to the suspicion of Plte modern psychologist; and it is notewrthy that in the novel most devoted to the subject of immoflality, Dostoevsky makes his appeal to "active Xove" rather than to mystical aperience. Ir is w o ~ hnoting, toy way of comparison, that Jonats's defense of the idea of immortality eschws as evidence "umolicitable encounters of love" &at cmnot be chimed by everpne in favor of what we all experienm in the "call of conscience'' (Jonas,Mortalily and Ivloraliy, pp, 120, f 25). For DostoevsQ*howwer, it is precisely the cltaracterigic af active love (as distinct from "Xove h dremsm")at it is open to all, despite its di%ctllr(yl Bostoevsb* Iike Jonats, also attaches enormous hportance to the ""c11 of mnscience." The Zackq Snnerdydov notes with a m ~ r ofe surprise and contempt Ivm's iinlrbility to mater the wilt he feds for his complicity irr parricide: "%U used to be brave once, sir, you used to say ' E v e q b g is permitted," sir, and now you've got so frightened!" (625). Xvank three "meetings" with Smerdy&ov are indeed a compdling case study of the conRicf b e ~ e e nnihilist theoretiml in.si@t and rhe ""c;ll of consciene." Ivan sugers so acutely from rhis canBict that it seems

.

possible he will find resolution only in madness or suicide. The agony of conscience alone annot save him, beause it cannot overcome his tfieoretial insight into the namre of consciene itseifi " m a t is conscience?X m&e it up myselE Why do X suffer then? Qut of habit, Out of uniwrsal human habit over swen thousand years, So let us get out of the habit, and we shdl be gads!" Significant though it is, Ivan's suEming of moral guilt is still less decisive in regard to any possibiliv of redemption than, for instance, his love for dyosba: Myosha,"Ivaaz spoke in a firm voice, 'if, hdeed, X hold out for the sticky little leaves, I shall love h e m only remembering you. It's enou& for me that you are here soxnwhere, and X shall not stop mating to live, Xs that enough ;For you? If you wish, you can take it as a declaration of 1ove""f263-264). 55, Nietzsch~On eke Geneczlog ofMomls, p, f 35, 66, See Nie~scbe'saphorism, entitied "The &ings people call love," in The Gay Science, pp. 88-89. 67. D~SLLowsky,&tes from the Underground, pp. X 15, 118--119, 58, See Friedrich Nietzsche, The Will to Power, trims, Walter Kaufmann and R. f, Hollingdale (New York: Random House, 29671, p. 366. 69. Nie&scbe, Beyond Good and Evil, p, 203. 70. Cf. Niet~chekandysis of the ""popular prejudia" "own as ".Creedam of the will," in, ibid., pp, 25-27. 71, See tfie section in Chapter 3 of this book, subheaded "'$pea&ng far Christ: The Elder Zosima's Accounm of Meaning in his to^.^" 72, See, for inst;tne, Nietzsch~TheAn~-Chke,p. f 54, 73. Fox imaxzce, liiietzsche, Bqrond Good and Evil,p. 2 2; and idem, The WlE to p. 380: "The standpoint of %valueYs the standpoi~ltof conditions of presemation and enhancement for complex forms of relative I&-duration within the Rux of becomingP 74, Nie&scbe, l"he Will Povuer, p. 319 (585 A). Cf. the criticism of Nietzche" '%e&rn t.o liiamre" offered by Daniel W Conway, "Nieasche's G&nerd&mmerung," in NhacFire: A Cri~ca1ReadeGed, Peter R. Sedwick (Odord: BlacbelX, 1995).See also Richard. Sclracbt3 Nkmcitre, p. 398, 75,DostoevsQ, Demons, p, 663.

o.


six

The Third Tempt~tion God, Immortality, and Political Ethics

Dostoevsb anticipated a bacMash in response to his Pushkin speech, especially from liberal Weskrnizers loafing to enlightened, humane, scientific Europe for progressive answers t - Russids ~ "social probled" and the bac&sh was not long in coming. Alexander Gradovsky, a prominent political scientist and Liberal critic, published a widely circulated cfitique of the speech that focused on what he vjewed as its author's paliticd naIvet6, Gradovsb righdy s u ~ e s t that s the core of Dostoevsws answer to the ""grennial questions" both in the Pu&En speech and in The Brothers Karammov may be identzed in the phrase: "Humble t h ~ e l fO , hau&ty man."' States GradovsQ: ""X hese words Mr. Bostoevsb has expressed the %oXly of holies' of his convicGons, that wkch at once represents the strengh and the weakness of the author of R e Brof%rersfirammoli: These words contain a @eat relgious ideal, a powehl homily on pmsonal moraEq, but they bear not even a hint of social ide&."2 That is to say, Dostiaevsb might be right to c ~ t i c h the. e personal ethics of "wanderers" like AXeko and Qnegin for Miusov or lvan) on Christian moral grounds; but that is no reason ta reject the civic institutions of Western modernity toward which these personages are orimted and which done will sable Russia to overmme its miserable seddom and devdop into a great naion, Gradovsky points to the embarrassing emmpk of the Aposrle Paurs acceplttnm of the irnmord institution of slavery to make his a s e h a t personal ethics and institutional poljirical mordity are two diBe:rent things, and that they are insuBeientLy diEerentiated in Dostoevskb")~ naive Chr&tim vision, In his reply>Dostoevsk-y clearly rejects Gradovsws Liberal moral dualiism. Were pmpXe ta take seriously Paul's Christian vision of seming love, slavery w u l d dis-

appear, Tme, Christian perfeaion has not yet appeared, but then neither has the perfect civil social order, and a good social order of any kind is dependent upon the personal practice of civic virtue by. the citizens, There is no magic here, though the political economy of the good society remains a mystery to human calculation and engineering. Dostoevsb asserts: "Please be aware, my learned professor, that there are no socid, civic ideals as such, ones that are not linked argankally with moral ideals but exist independently as separate halves sliced off h m the whole by your scholarly scalpel; there are no such ideals that, at last, can be &ken from outside and transplanted successfully into the spot of your choosing in the form of distinct 'institutions."'~ There is no magial, scientific, or instindual social formula for human beings. Social orders originate in ideas organically linked to religious and moral conceptions of human nature and hlfillment, and personal be~ermentcannot be separated from civic institutions. A political society based on survival and an fear cannot maktain unity. for long. And in such a sociev: " m a t . . . can an "nstitution' as such, taken on its own, saw? If there were brothers, then there would be brotherhood. If there are no brothers, then you will not achieve any sort of brotherhood through any sort of 5nstitution."'~ European institutions cannot save Russia, precisely because they have already split asunder what must be organically united: personal morality and social ethics. Dosmevsky. then repeats what he presents poetically in The Brothers Karamazov: The official Roman Catholicism of the West essentially agreed to this split in accepting the Roman state and law as the legitimate civic mpression af its spirituality and "brotherhood.'% If atheistic socialism is the "other end""of God and immortality in the Russian context, then the French Revolution is the "other end" of Roman Catholicism in the European context-and Dostoevsky sees little difference between the two political philosophies. To adopt such ideas would be to become the lackey of modern Europe and its moribund scientific humanism, which is ultimately a denial of human brotherhod. The Brothers Karammov explores the alternative: not a Russian caesaropapist messjianism (as Eric Voegelin and athers mistakenly asserts) but the monastic Christianity of the Russian peasantry; John MeyendorR points out that caesaropapism never became the official principle of Byzantine theology, largely because of the powerful monastic witness to the churcb"~freedom, which resisted both any compromise with the state and the renaissance of secular humanism.6 In contrast to the Latin West, the Byzantine East did not develop a juridial agreement defining the institutional division of realms b e ~ e e nchurch and state, religious and secular authority, or personal and social ethics.7 Dostoe~sky.~ in keeping with the monastic theology of the

East, therefore rejects both caesaropagism and the separation of church and state in order to develop a vision of political order rooted in the crucified, cosmic Christ whose worldly. presence in word and sacrament orients the life and practice of the worshiping community on earth. This is the founhtion of justice, revealed in John's Apocal-ypse, the central symbols of which also pemade Dostoevsws political theolom. In this chapter; we explore the implications for politial ethics of the Xnquisitor's interpretation of the third temptation, in which he proposes the estabhshrnent of a homogeneous, to~litarianstate as the solution to the problem of human justice. This solution is a parodic mimesis of the heavenly city imaged poetically in the book of Revelation. Dostoevsh, like the author of the biblical apoalpse, is engaging in a prophetic, poetic critique of ecumenical, imperial politics from the standpoint of "God and immortditym-a bidden divine justice bunded upon the "slain Lamb" who rules in the heavenly city and whose rule on earth is mediated in the suffering servant church. These conflicting political theologies with their attendant moral logics inhabit the same worldly space; the only question concerns which is true and which is founded upon a lie. The questions of whom to worship and which conception of politial authority and juswritings with reference to tice is true are fundamentally related in Dostoevsk-y"~ the image of the slain Lamb, as they are in the book of Revelation, Our exglsration begins, then, with the vivid political pro and contra apocalyptically displayed in Xvaxl" parodic prose poem, In the novel n e Brothers Karamaz~lt,the parodied truth is not displayed in a brilliant rhetorical rejoinder but in the contrasting contexts of Russian justice-the modem courtroom (with its rules of forensic evidence, sbndards of judgment, narrative techniques, and procedural rituals in the administration of retributive justice) versus the traditional monastic cell (with its icons, cycle of prayer and worship, and appeal to conscience rooted in the biblical narratiw and in its vision of resmrative justice), Alyasha, commissioned by his elder, takes the vision and practices of restorative justice into the world, helping to transform the communit-y of children from a gang of conflicting rivals into brothers, This is Dostoevsky"~prophetic word for modern politics: There is one true city made up of diverse peoples whose true rule-one that can preserve harmony in difference-is revealed in the slain Lamb who overcomes the tribulations of worldly, disordered desire and establishes true peace by the sword of the liberating Ward. The sword is not a w a p o n of vengeance used to destroy enemies. It is the active embodiment of sewing love that extends even to one" eenmies, a posture of death to egoism that makes possible communal life under divine rule, as is expressed in the epigraph to me Brttt-hers Karamaz0-v (John 12:24).

The Third Temptation by the Devil We sugested in Chapt.er 3 &at Ivan%'%ta@g""of "The Grand Inq_~liaiitor" is isportant ta inkrpreting its meszning, The =me ma)l.be sajd of the poem's p o b ~ cond text,esbblkhed by Ivan in his l i t a q preface, The sita at ion of Christ ta mdievd Se~Ueis &am& with referearn ta Johnls gospl account of the t ~ u m p h dentry into Jemsalem (14111;" cf,'John 121, where Jesus is welwmed into h e city as the messianic kng who will establish the just mle of God, Xvan, of course, adapts this hame to his own purlposes, parodflng the gospel acwunt.8 Xn this case h e parody is espe4dy noteworhy since it refers to the very bibfid passage from which Dostoevsky takes the epigaph for the e-nke novel, John 12:24: "Vedy, verily, I say unto you, &apt a corn of wheat fall into the earth and die, it hide& alone; but if it die, it bringeh forth much 6uit." Ivan pays no a @ m ~ oto n this part of the pasBge; quite the contrary; The reason given in Jahn 12 for the crowd af pwple gahered to p e t Jesus as the t ~ u m p h dking is that they have head of an hpressive "sip'kr mirxle perfomed by Jesus (12:9,17-18)-he raishg of Lmrus lirom the dead. This @vesJesus popular apped, as h e Phadsees recopize: "You see that you can do nothing; look, the vvhole world (kosmos)has gone after him" (12: 19).Jesusresponds to this acclamation by sa@ng,"The hour has came for the San of Man to be glorifieg (12:23), But his glorifiaGon is not to be understoarl in erms of ovedy political conquest or esernaUy visible pwer, for he foflows this statement with the words of John 12:24. John's ggaspd emphasizes that the meaning of Jesus%ingship, the mediation of Go&s purposes in the world, and the revelation of the truth about the cosmos and the real structure of worldly human &stence are found in death and resurrection-that is, in both judgment and salvation: "Now is the judgment (krisis] of this m r l d (kosmos), now shaU the ruler fardonf of this world be cast out; and I, when X am lifted up from the earth, wilt draw a11 people (pantas) to myself" (12:31-32). How does this cosmic Eng draw all ta hinrzself and thus to God? Not by the power of extemd signs and wonders or miEtary action or political control or brilliant rhetoric, but by deng. There is no conventional power struggle here but rather a revelation of the ultimate direction of the human search for reconciliation and harmony-lFor the divine order of truth. 'IThis is the word that saves, in John" gospel-not "Father, save me h m this hour" but rather "Father, glori* thy name" "(X2:2*i"-28). To respond to the divine drawing is to die to one's own mortaliv and its relative daims, to be humbled and emptied in order to experience the hllness of divine completion, By performing these acts, Christ mediates not only the divine will but also the pattern of human mediation given to human *Here and belaw, gage number references ayyeaxing inside square brackets pertah to Dastorvsky" "The Grand Inquisitor:" rephted tdn i Chapter 2 of this volume,

beings "in the beginning-in &e royal mandate ta have dominion over the earth as God's vice-regents (Genesis 1:26E). It is a mandate parodied by human beings who seek instead ta mediate their own purposes and interests in the world, to secure and complete themselves above all by the exercise of their own power (see, far =ample, the story of the tower of Efabel in Genesis l l as a symbol of tatalitarian political order). Xn Christ, according to Johannixze theolae?the hue focus of the royal mandate is restored by the recopition that God alone is good and able to judge goodness. Human beings render God"s purpose present in the world insofar as they participate in the dhine realiv, emptying themselves in order to be filled by &e outpouring of divine love, This kenotic paEern is the very incarnation of divine love, by which true community is established. Inslead of developing this Johannine heme, Ivan (whose name m i m h the New Tesbmat Johnls) takes it in the oppsite direction. In his E t a s y preface he carnb i n s the bhannine triumphd entry with &c: miracle story of the raishg from &c: dead of fairus's dau&tm in Mak 5:3W3. The only words of Jesus &at ban quotes in 'The Grand Inquisitor" are the kamaic w r & Jesus spoke to the girl, Talz'tha cumi ("Damsel arke"1.9 We nok, first, that rbe miraculous raising of one presumed d a d here occurs in response to the crow&s royal peetbg, and in the most public of seaings-the athedral square, In i?r/Iark"sstov the miracle is hidden fram pubEc view;'@jesus sends everyone out and goes in t-o &e child alone, Meward fie s t ~ d y chwges the people there to tell no one a b u t it. In the retehg, Ivan has Chipit performing a very public, heatrial rnirxle, displa*ng his pwer t~ t.QlfiUthe e a r ~ l y deskes of people wihout considering &c: spiritual, rnemiing or end af tfiose desires, At issue here are the nature and meaning of the power, authority, and purpose of life as rev&d in Christ's teszching and ministry. And indeed, these questions become the focus of the Inquisitor's prosecution of Christ. They are a test of Messianic aauthoriq and agency, and are thus related to the Lamblatonement imagery and death and resurreaion symbolism that we have already noted. m o s e understanding of human freedom and happiness, of evil rebellion and the successful establishment of just order, is truer to reafityl John" visions on the island of Patmos are described as a cosmic revelation h m the God "who is and who was and who is to came," the beginning and the end, Alpha, and Omega, (Revelation X:& g), the agent af whose cosmic purpose is the crucified and risen Messiah (I: 1'7-1 8). m e n John in his vision is ushered through the door of the heavenly vault into the throne room of the Creator, he describes two central symbols-the rainbow, representing divine mercy," and the lightning and thunder issuing from the throne, representing divine sovereignty and holy righteousness (the giving of the Law). We are &us, as G, B, Caird points out, introduced to a central problem in &eolol5)r: ""How a n God, in a sinful world, do equal justice ta his sovereignty and his merq?"Iz

John of Patmos has &e answer, as revealed in Revelation 5, in the vision of the seded scroll that conwins the hidden meaning and destiny of histov. No one is worthy ta open the scrou, and God will not break the seal-human destiny and with it the destiny of all creation.is me&atc;rd in the vvclrld by human hedam, God does not act uailaterauy or in magi=] intervatians." John begins to weep: How will God's purposes for this alienated creation.be rmlized?%a is wrthy to be the agent of redemptive justice and reconcilhg hamony in the tvorld? The revealed answer is given (5:s') in an amxzing conjundion of images. The elder says to John, "The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open &e scroll and its seven sealsm-an image of the Messianic warrior-king, m a t John sees, however, iis "a Lamb, standing, as though it had been slainD-fie Messianic conquering of evil is accomplishedby deat-bi.The ivessianic agency &at draws all creation to its fulfilling completion is the power of suEering love, which e&austs the strm& of evil by patient martyrdom, Xt is a pattern of witness also imitated by the followers af the Iamb (Revelation I I; cf. 6:9f.; X2:X I; 28:rl).This in turn calls for an alternative vision of political order (represented by a "new song,"" 5:9-10, 12) founded on the worthhess of the slain Lamb.14 The question at stake in the ""Pro and Contra" "section of the novel is which image will orient the thought and aaion of human charader and &us "authorize" political judgment and order, It is clear that both the Inquisitor and Christ in Ivan's prose poem understand this to be a spiritual question, not merely a material one. As the Inquisitor puts it, "The universal and everlasting anguish of man as an individual being, and of the whole of mank;ind togeher" is faund in the question, "before whom shaU X bow dawn?"[45]. Religous worship and political order are inearicably joined, and this conjunction is chiefly expressed, says the Inquisitor, in the "conscience" or in the self-f-conscious soul, where moral judgment occurs, Here the Inquisitor's anthropology coincides with the Christian &sion of elder asirna, which is expressed early. in the novel in response ta Ivan's article on ecclesiaslical courts and their political jurisdiction. At stake in that article, as in the poem, is the vestion of juslice and how it perwins spiritually and institcttionallly- to political order. Xvan's article argues against the separation of church and state, sugesting that these two institutions da not represent two different spheres (e.g., the pmsonal and the political, or the private and the public) but two difirent, Eundarnentally incompatible forms of rule and authoriry; Any attempt to mix these forms by arranging an institutional compromise b e ~ e e z r them represents "a lie at the very basis of the matter" (61;),*The church, in contrast ta the pagan state, appeals ta conscience in its judgment of criminals and *Here and below, page n m b e r references inside parenheses, unless othenvise indiated, pertain to Fyodor Dostoevsb, The Broth-herslVdramazmstrans, Richard Pevear and brissa VoloBonsb (New York Vhtage, 1990).

seeks their spiritual regeneration in a manner that presewes their fieedom. It is not focused on the mechanical preservation of external social order, as are statiril: forms of coercive punishment, The dder concurs with Ivan's argument, suggesting that this cosmic truth is authoritative: "In reality. it is so even now. . . . If it were not for Christ" church, indeed there would be no restraint on the crimind in his evildoing, and no punishment for it later, real punishment . . .which lies in the consciousness of one's own conscience" "(64). It is in the conscience that the law of Christ (and hence the true order of justia) reigns, and it is a law ordered above all by active, reconciling love-not only in some futuire harmony but even now, on trhe earth* A true judgment, which sees dearly. the -use of the crime and how the criminal. might be transformed, cannot ""esentially and morally be combined with any other judgment, even in a temporary compromise, Here it is not passible to strike Hence the elder pronounces his judgment on the "faIse conany bargains" "9. sciousness" of all "establishment" churches of Western Christendom, in which the churcWs authorizing image (the law of Christ) has in some manner been falsely e~ernalkedand replaced by another form of rule (the juridical state).I6 This, adds Father Paissy; ""ithe third temptation of the devil" (66). As we h o w , Ivan's argument in the artide is "WO-edged""(60): Everphing depends on whose authority (and which aufiorizhg image-anthropological, saciopolitical, or cosmological) is real and true. Ivan's Inquisitor overtly opposes the authority.af Christ in order to establish an external judicial and political arder that nevertheless claims the name of Christ. This is the ""Xie" that bunds his earthly rule. It is a noble lie, claims the Inquisitor, premised on a true image of human nature and history; which reverses the claims of the shin Lamb: Earthly bread is more important than the spiritual word of God; religious worship is more a matter of darzzling, external displays of power than the love of a free heart; the sward of Gesar is a more eEeaive and benign instrument of political justice and ear&ly peace than the rule of conscience and sugering love, It will free the mmsa damnata from the tormenting vranny of a free but guilty conscience that breeds only resentful rekllion and disorder. This noble lie, boweva, is also consciously recognized by the Inquisitor to be a ""Xie in the soul" (Republic382)-the "true liemthat willhlly distorts a true understanding of the hieest things, and that uses fdse images, speeches, and signs to create ignorance within the self and withh sociery; In contrast to Plato's Socrates and in contrast to the Christ of the New Testament, the Inquisitor believes such lies can be politically useful. And the Inquisitor, as a spiritual man, is prepared to pay the spiritual price. He will take on the burden of his sinful rebellion against divine rule and suffer the torments of a divided conscience in order to use his pawer to relieve the spiritual burden of others-that is, the burden of their own

sinhl rebellion and guilty consciences. How will he do this? In a parodic reversal of Christ" path of atonement, the Inquisitor will be a miracle-worEng, swordwielding Messiah of an ear&ly Kngdom, mediating a worldly happiness of mat-grial gratification without conscience. The sc3cret of this rule, admits the Inquisitor to Christ, is that "we are not with p u but with himfJ[49]-that is, with the "great dragon'' "entified in Revelation 12 as "that ancient serpent, who is alled the Devil and SaQn, the deceiver of the whole world""(12:9). This "secret" is premised on a reversal of the Christian understanding of life and death; it assumes the uitlirnate unreality of resurrection and the heavenly city in which the slain Lamb rtks. "Beyond the grave: asserts the Inquisitor, human beings "will find only deatlf [5l];but he will use religious construas of eternal Life and hqpiness in order to create a purely tempord political substitute for conscience. And here again the Inquisitor reveals his disdain for the weak, vain rebels he claims so to love: "For even if there were anything in the next world, it would not, of course, be for such as they." Human beings, then, are not created in God's image-they are merely clever beasts, We see refle~ledin this comment the psychological anatomy of the liar traced eadier in the novel, by elder Zosima (44, 58). Lying to oneself leads to a loss of discernment of truth, both within oneself and in the world. This l e d s in turn to contempt, fear, and disrespect-both of oneself and of o&ers-and the inilbiliv to love. Such a self becomes the slave of changing passions and abstract, self-glorifying fan~siesthat can reach ""cmplete bestialiq? It is no accident, then, that the beasts of John's Apoedypse appear in all three temptations of Ivan's prose poem, and most explicitly in the third temptation, which conarns the kngdom of tamed beasts. The premise of the Inquisitor" anthropoloq is that human beings are not created in the h a g e of God and therefore a n n o t be pided in. freedom by the image of the crucified Lamb. This same premise accounts for the political realism of the bird tempation-the use of Caesar" sword and imperial power (the threat of bodily. death) to eradica~rebeuion. IroniaUy, in this vision human rebdion will be eradicated in rebeEon against the Crator and his purposes. The hird temptation-he creation of a univmsd, homogeneous state hdd togeaer by the mtemal authority of technological, needgratieing wonders and the immediate justice of carporal. and capital punishment-is a parody of the loving, spiritual unity in the kngdom of God and the gm Chkti. Dostoevsky foEolIows the cosmic grammar of the Apocalpse here, e r h his references to the tower of Babe1 and the m o r e of Babylon1491. The completion of the Inquisitor" projea is indeed an image of the biblical vision of the unholy city that has seduced the nations to the worship of what is not God-in pary ticular, to b e powers of commercial wedth, dmzling intrigue, and m i l i ~ r empire (Revelation 17-18). In. the book of Revelation this burksque parody of the true

splendor of the heavenly Jerudem (which is the pure Bride of the Lamb) is identified withi Rome, In "The Grand Inquisitor" the great harlot is the Holy Roman Empire, revived in the papal alliance with the Frankish empire.17 Matever the particular historial references, the spiritual principles remain consistent-the mutually destructive passions of Beast and m o r e represent a parody af the marriage bemeen Christ and the Church (the Lamb and the beavmly Bride), The mystew of the m m a n and the beast are spelled out in Revelation 17 by the angel, who seeks to disenchant the bedarmled prophet who ""geatly mawels" at the sight of the mother of harlots and earrhly abominations, drunk with the blood of the marws,'8 The angel reveals &at the name of the beast is an empq parody of the divine name; the antichrist "was, and is not, and is to ascend from the bottomless pit and go to perdition" (128; cf. 1:4,8, 18; 28). The true representative af the divine name is Christ, the Lamb who is slain in the earthily. w r l d but is alive to the eternal God. The beast is dead to Go&s world and therehre truly dead, even though he appears to be powerhlly alive in the world. The slain truth (the true, eternal image of God) thus conquers the living lie. Those who participate in this reign of and by deception are also dead, hough what they seek is to preserve their earthly lives at alI costs-which means they will lose them eternally; By contrast the martyrs "who fallow the Lamb wherever he goes" (14:&5) conquer the authority. of earthly death ""far they loioved not their own lives even unto deatW (12:1 l), The parallels here to John 12:241".and the epigraph of The Brstbzers Karamaz~vare clear. The united powers of idolatry-the beast and the harlot-are finally revealed to be nothing in John" vision, even though they are worshiped as gads in the world. The self-destructiveness of evil as the power that distorts the good is revealed in the various images of divine judgment in Revelation. The cup that sends the harlot staggering to her destruction is one she herself has mixed (126; 18:6f,), and she is killed by the very beast on whom she sits, enlfironed in unholy alliance, The final destruction of the beast, in turn, is accompanied by many violent and deadly. plagues. It is imporbnt to note that these cosmic images of evil and af mythical demonic powers da not aperate independently af human agency." Human beings mediate in the w r l d that which they wrship. The question for Ivan is, will he let his isolated intellect descend into his heart (as Theophanes the Recluse put it) and thus be raised up to paradise? The latter cannot occur without a death-not only an intellectual death to Euclidean, earthly logic but also a spiritual death to the desire for juridkal retribution, We h o w how this is resolved for the Inquisitor, whose last words to the kiss of Christ parody the final words of Revelation: ""Go and do not come again . . . do not come at all . . . never, never" "ompare this with Revelation 22:20, Marana trh~a [Gome, our h r d ] ) , 3%e kiss burns in his heart, but the old man willhlly rejects

the seeing of the heart in order to hold to his own "ide$'[54], The spiritual death required is dso depicted in Zosirna" words: "A11 are wilt7 for all . . . personally, each one of us, for all people and for each person on this eartl? (164). Only such a confession of pmitential solidarity can reverse the "be" of juridical wilt that isolates and punishes. Only the practice of such solidarity.f "dl are responsible for a y ) will reverse the pemerse and destructive freedom =pressed in lvank parody of Paul" slogan in I Corinthians, "all is permitted.""" Only such a death to the ""pffed up" self who sticks to his shrunken ""gnosis" will make possible the loving hedonn that "builds up" the spiritud body politic, in which is found the "true security of the "wholeness of humaniq" "(304,320). It would be possible, though ironic, to reduce all of this to the "ideological level: focusing on the origins of DostoevskyJsborrowed political ideas and how they are used &amatially by characters in the novel in order to stage a kind of sociopolitical critique of ideologks. 'IThat would be to miss the novel's dramatic placement of ideas and characters into certain; significant political-institutional settings, two of the most imporQnt of which are the traditional (though unconventional) Russian monastery and the modern Russian courtroom, The traditional monastic institution of elders is no mere ideological device for Dostoe-vsky-it is the site where a p-articular Christian vision of justice is embodied and enaaed, a vision that can be extended into the wider world only if one pays attention to the discipllmes and practices cultivated in the monastic life. The monastic celX of elder Zosima is not only the setting br an abstract discussion about Ivan's academic article on ecclesiastical and secular courts; it also provides the occasion br attempting to settle a familial dispute over inheritance maEers and property acc;ounts. In it the eXder oEers his opinions on the topic of crime and punishment and enacts a series of prophetic judgments rooted in a penitential &sion of restoratlive justice. Juxtaposed with the monaskry, and the elder's cell in particular, is the modern Russian courtroom &at embodies the secularizing Judicial Reform Act of 1864, This is the site of MityaJsstrange trial in which s the crime are variously interpreted and construed. It is also the faaual d e ~ i l of the locus of the retributive madd of justice, with its mechanical rules of evidesnce and its clever practitioners who seek ta win their case by. means of rhetorical. speeches. Paying close attention ta these settings can tell us much about Dostoevsky"s Christian vision of goliilial ethics.

The Elder5 C d : Restorative Versus Retributive Justice It is not only IvanJsartide on the ecclesiasticalcourts that is described as ""doubleedged" in the novel, The institution of dders and their powerfinl authorit'y is also

described as a "double-edged weapon" "129) that a n lead to moral regeneration and perfection in humility and freedom, or to satanic pride and bondage.21 So also the psychological mdysis used by lavers in the modern Russian courtroom is described as a "stick with two ends" @(book 12, chapkr 10). It seems that the very srlbjed of justice and authority. is double-edged, posing the question: How are justice and moral goodness established an the earth, and how might one discern and judge them? The drxaliv represented here is neither institutional nor a division ber-tveen personal and social ethics; it is psychological-a question of conscience. It begins in the soul and moves through all social relationships of spiritual and moral order, from the household to refigious and civic communities, to the cosmic struggle bemeen God and the Devil that frames Dostoevsk-y"~ navel. The discernment of conscience lies at the heart of Dostaevsvs political vision of justiw-an insight shared but differently resolved by the two central ascetic figures in the novel, the Grand Inquisitor and the elder fisirna. Richard Peace comments astutely an these two fiwres and what they represent: The 1iv"angreifutation of what the Grand Inquisitor represen& can be seen in Zosima h b e l f . Both are old men on the verge of deah; both are mo& and ascetics; but whereas the Grand Inquisitor embodies the legend of the Church turned State, Z o s h is the prophet of the St&e turned Church. . . . The Grand f~lquhitorrules by 'mystery, miracle and rtuthoriv: but for a s h a mystery is not an instrument of rule, it is namre; it is Iife itselE Miracles too, he teaches, only stem &am faith; they cannot inspire it, Moreover mrlzority for Zosima is spiritual authoriq-the voIuntary submission of a novice to his elder-it is not the physically. imposed wifl of a deslpotic 'berzefa&or'; for the mainspring of Zosirna's authority i s not prMe but hunzilliv, . . . The Grand Inquisitor solves the problem of crime by eliminating the criminal with incarceration, toflure and &re-this is the esemal and purely mechanial form of justice deplored by Zosima in the discussion in the cdl, To the autos da f i of the Grand hquisitor are opposed the open confessions of Zosirna; for he points to the individud conscience as the only tme instmment of punisbent.22

As we have seen, it is precisely the suffering of conscience that the Grand Inquisitor seeks to relieve in, his regime of external power. According to the elder, such relief is not a human prerogative, since conscience is not only socially constituted, or guided by the conventional norms and authorities of a mmmun7ify. Conscience is a howledge constituted also ""bfore God:" whose divine law measures human beings. For the elder, pace Peace, conscience is neither simply "inndividua]I""nor ""instrumental"-punishment is not extrinsic to the relational, ernbodied life of human society. Nor is conscience s h p l y the ""mnemotechnical"" intemalimtion of contractual power rdations rooted in rituals af pain (as Nietz-

sche has it).23 The pain and punishment of conscience is rooted in the memory or consciousness of divine love, which exposes one" separation from its fullness and one" own completion. Pain is an imporbnt symptom of a deeper illnessone ignores or dulls it at peril of death. As such, conscience cannot work mechanially or instrumentally Indeed, to treat conscience in such a manner "only chafes the heart in most cases:" says the dder (64). The judgment of conscience cannot be linked to the external authoriq of any office or institution brat only to the "law of Christ" that seeks the restoration of all the guilty in the reconciled cornmunip of God, The entrance requirement here is not ""paying one's dues" or some-hiowerasing the deeds that have caused suffering,The entrmce requirement is penance, the free confession that "each of us is guitty before eveqone and for everyone,""for only thereby. does one gain consciousness of the true cosmic solidarity of human beings and thus exit the isolation of disunion h m the whole. Qf course, such a penitential consciousness does not come naturally or without practice and ccrmmuniq discipline. Penance is but a first step; it must be followed by the "monastic waf of lifeobedhnce to spiritual authoriry; fasting to overmme slave~cyto superfluous needs, and education in prayer. The practice of prayer plays an especially important role in the novel-par~culady in the lives of the two transformed brothers Karamazov. From Alyoshds memory of his mother" frenzkd pleading for him before the icon of the Mother of God (18-19) to Miqa's frantic prayers afier his violent attack on Grigory and his retrospective acknowledgment that he was saved flxom a more heinous crime (412,433 472, 5921, prayer is displwed as a significant causal power in the novel, It links human beings to one another through the divine spirit and through consciousness, in a manner that decisively affects action and "builds up" ammunion, For the dder, the pradke of prayer (as confession and "keeping company with the heart"; see 164,318f.1 is closely tied to the practice of active love as the antidote to lying and its isolating fears and fanasies. Prayer is the cultivation of the presence of God in the whole of one" life. In particular it gves rise to divine discernment in relation to sin and to the consequences of human alienation from God that trigger the ongoing cycles of offense, viooXence, and revenge in familial and social rdatians. As Zosima puts it: Brohers, do not be afraid of me& sin, love man alsa in his sin, for this Z&eness of God's love is the height of love on earth, Love all of God's creation, bolh the whole of it and every ggrah of sand. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light, Love animals, love plmts, love each tfiing, If you love each thi~lg,you will perceive the mysteq of God in thin@, Once you have perceived it, you win begin tirelessly to perceive more and more of it eve7 day. h d you will come at last to love the whole world with m entire, universal Iove.

. . , My young broher asked forgiveness of tfie birds: it seems senseless, yet it is right, for all is like an ocean, all Bows and connects; touch it in one place and it echoes at the other end of the world. , , . . . .My friends, ask gXadness from God, Be glad as children, as birds in the sky. And let man's sin not diswrb you in your eEar%, da not fear &at it wifX dampen your endeavar and keep it from being hlfilled, fto not say, ""Sn is strong, impiet)x is strong, the bad environment is stroxlg, and we are lonely and powerless . . . ."Bee from such despondency my chsdren! There is only one salvation for you: take yourself up, and d e yourself revonsibible for all the sins of men. For indeed it is so, my EPiend, and the moment you make yourself sinmrely responsible for eveqhing md evevane, you will see at once that it is redly so, . . , mereas by shifti~lgyour own lazhess and powerlessness onto ohers, you will end by sharing in Satan's pride md murmuring against God. X think thus of Satan's pride: it is diaczllt flor us on earth to comprehend it, and therefore, how easy it is to fall into error and part&e of 2, thinking, moreover, that we are doinli; something great and beautihl, . . . But on earth we are indeed wadering, as it were, and did we not have the p ~ c i o u simage of Christ before us, we wuZd perish and be altogetkr lost. . . . Much on earth h concealed from us, but in place of it we have been granted a secret, mysterious sense of our 1iving bond with the other world, with the higher heavenly world, and the roots of our thoughts md fedinp are not here but in other worlds. That is why philosophers say it is innposible on earth to coneive the essrzncle of things, God to& seeds from other wrldr; and sowed &em on &is earth%and raised up his garden . . . if this sense is makened or destroyed in you, that which has grown up in you dies, Then you become indifirent to lik, and even come to hate it. So I think, (318-320) We cite the eXder2 words as recorded in inyosha" ''LifeFe"' at length because of their isnporQnce in the novel's vision of social justice. The e ~ e n d e dreflection (g) ""Of prayer, love, and touching other worlds" is followed by seaion (h) on judgment: "Remember especially that you cannot be the judge of anyone. For there can be no judge of a criminal on earth until the judge knows that he, too, is a cr"xinal, mactly the same as the one who stands before him . . . " (328). The only adequate response to the crimind is not retributive justiw (for the eldesr, the desire for vengeance upon the wicked is to be kared most of all) but taking upon oneself the crime of the criminal and sharing in his sugering. Precisely such a posture of discernment is displayed by the elder in the opening scenes of the novel, and it is a posture of spiritual and poli.,ibcalauthoriq that stands in stark contrast to the Grand Inquisitor". The context of the monastery in which the elder resides is described in explicitly political .t-grmsby the narrator, The institution of elders is itself controversid thin Russian Orthodoq, "an unheard-of innovation" "introduced by Paissy Velicbkovsb at the end of the eigh-

teenth century; and the elder Zasirna is not without opposition from certain monks of renom within his own monastery; The opposition is dearly.due to the personal authority that resides in the ""office" of the dder, and, in particular, to better, existential-treatnnent of the sacrament of conthe elder's informal-r fession and penance, where "the people" h o n k s and laypersons, common folk and nobi1i.t-y)come to the dder in order to confess their doubts, sins, and sufferings and to seek advice and admonition, "Seeing which, the opponents of the elders shouted, among other accusations, that here the sacrament of confession was being arbitraray and kivofousXy degraded""(281.24 Indeed, the "oEceBof elder is not docated by any mechanial or instrumental means but is a recognition of the spiritual maturiv mcl discernment practiced by a monk, of the kind enacted by elder Zosha in p-arts 1 and 2 of n e Brothers Karaunmo-v, The gathering of the bramamvs in the dder's celX, in contrast to mast other such audiences, the narrator tells us, has a fdse pretext. 3%e confiict over inheritance money b e ~ e e nFyodor and Dmitri has intensified, rendering their rdations shalrp and unbearable. Apparently as a joke, Fyodos suggests they gather in the elder" ell-not for direct mediation but to see wheher the "dignify and personaliv of the elder mi@t be somehow influential and conciliatoryf3((32). Aso attending the gathering is the relative of Fpdork first wife mcl an early guardian of Mitya's, Qotr Alexandrovich Miusov, a liberal, freethinking atheist who is engaged in a lawsuit with the monastery (which borders his estate) over progerq and logging and fishing rights, He is curious to visit the monastery and the eldesr, so "he hastened to take advantage of this meeting under the pretext of an intention to settle evemhing with the Father Superior and end all their controversies amicably" @(32).25 Neither Alyosha (who suspects the motives of these various ""qarrelers and litigants"")os the elder is keen on the visit, but in the end the elder agrees, citing (with a sm.rle) the words of Luke 12:14-"Mo made me a divider over them?" "esus?response to a request that he settle an infieriance dispute b e ~ e e nbrothers), The visit therefore has a definite litigious and juridical context-although the visitors are not sincere in their stated purpose of obtaining justice, The meeting is to immediately bllow the late morning liturm, and of course the gwesb show up afier the liturp. None but AXpsha truly oders his life under the authority of Christ or the disciplines of the Church, and as Alyosha has feared, no reverence or deep respect is paid eifier to the monastery or to the elder by Ayosha's famay members, Indeed, to the contrary, Fyodos's blasphemous buffoonery combined with Miuso$s offended liberal vaniv leads to a quintessentially Dostoevskian scandal scene. Zosha is not offended by the antics of his guests but addresses the discerned -uses of their behavior-shame, pride, false honor-and oEers his interpreQtion as weXX as a prescribed cure: "Above all, do

not lie to purself" "(44). This evokes an exaggerated, self-parod*ng "anfession" from Fyador: "I've lied decidedly all my life, every day and every hour, Verily, f am a lie and the father of a lie! Or maybe not the fa&er of a lie, f always get my texts mked up; let's ss%). the son of a lie, that will do just as well!" (44). Fyodor7sconhsed outburst parodies the words of John 8:44', set in a lenghy controversy scene regarding the origin of Jesushuthority and bow the witness of his wards and his lik is to be judged. Jesus tells his opponents: " h u judge according to the flesh, I judge no one. Yet even if I do judge, my j u d p e n t is true, for it is not X alone that judge, but I and he [the Father] who sent me" @:15-16). Judgment (kr&is) here has ta do with discernment or the howledge of God, since Jesusklaim is that his speech and his deeds bear witness to divine truth and its authority, ff only his opponents "hew" the Father (Cod) they would also "how" the origin of his identity and authority, This is the context of the ""double-edgefl words of judgment spoken by Jesus in John 8:42f.: E God were your Father, you vvould love me, for I proceeded and God, . . .my do you not understand what X say? Xt h because you camot bear to hear my w r d . You are of your father the devil, and your will is to do your farher% desires, He was a murderer from the beginning, and has nothing to do with the truth, because there is no truth in him. men, he lies, he speaks aaording to his own nature, for he is a liar and the father of lies.

Love, desire, knowledge, truth, will, nature-these are bound together mistentially and can only be discerned in the prophetic p a t t m of spiritual causality; which is here tied to ianf3uaf5eof "fatherhood" and, one coraId say, 'Ynheritance,"" Here Jesus echoes the unders~ndingof the Hebrew prophets: Lack of howledge of God is not primaray a noetic deficiency but a failure to acknowledge God in proper invocation and worship, which involves the whole of life and enails certain ethical markers, such as the praaice of jusliceeZsFreedom for John (and for the dder Zosima) is dependent upon knowledge of the trulfi (8;32), that which is truly real and truly alive in the world-in oher vvclrds, the eternal God of love whose real presence is mediatd in the world by the incarnate k~gos.The opposite, slavery to the things of the flesh, which lies to itself about the origin and end of iik, can only end up in the desire to murder the truth that judges it a lie. The desire of the several sons of Fyodor to murder their fa&er is a desire, plresumably, they have inherited from their father himself, The elder prophetically discerns this as well. The prophetic discernment exercised by the elder in relation ta each of the three legitimate sons of Fyodor present at the gathering in his cell is preceded, however, by another display of the elder" authority that confirms the connec-

tions b e ~ e e nfaith and deed in the "howledge" of God and divine immortaliq. The elder has a special reputation among the people (and women especially) as a heder and "miracle-worker: and at a certain point he leaves his guests in order to greet the people awaiting him outside his cell, 3%e narrator comments that the elder's bealings are not magical but quite "natural"-if one akes spiritual caasdity of illness into acaunt, Nor are the elder's interactions with the people theatrical displays of ~Xigiouspower; they are, rather, deeply personal and intimate encounters that seek to address the particular aaictlions and concerns of body and soul expressed by the people thernseives. The elde$s discernment is fully coherent with his penitential thealoe-penitence and humitity are closely tied to the experience and insight of divine love. This becomes especially wident in his conversation with the "lady of little faith,""Madame Khoulakov, who is plawed by doubts about "life after death.""According to the elder, such doubt is not simply an intellectd matter, and it certainly has nothing to do with "proof" in a scientific sense, Yet, says the eldesr, it is possible ta be cominced by the mperience of acthe love: "TV to love your neighbors actively and tirelessly. The more you succeed in loving, the more you'll be convinced of the eAstence of Cod and the imm0rralir-yof your soul. And if you reach mmplete selflessness in the love of your neighbor, then undoubtedly you will believe, and no doubt will even be able to enter p u r soul" "(56). This is precisely the issue that plagues Ivan, as he confesses to Myasha in the conversation leading up to the tale of the Grand Inquisitor: I must make m abission, . . . X never could understmd how it's pposbIe to Iove one's neighbors, In my opinion, it is preciseiy one's neighbors that one cmnor possibly Xave. Perhaps if they were& so ni& . . . X read sametime, samewhere about " ] o h the Mercihli" (some saint) that when a hungry and frozen passerby came ta him and asked to be made uuarm, he lay down with him hbed, embraced him, and began breathing into his mouth, which was foul and festering with some terrible disease, I'm nnonGnwd that he did it with the strai~lof a lie, out of love enforced by duty, out of self-imposed penance. (236237)

Clearly the question of moral interpretation is rdated to the measure of truth and sf lie that is being used.27 The elder discerns precisely this struggle going on in 11van"sconscience, and also in the conscience of his brother Mitya. The forms of the struggle, alrhough quite different in each brother, are intimately related. The elder" pprcsphetic ads of discernment in relation to the brohers follow Miusovk vindicGve aaempt to expose Ivan's hwocririy. in writing the article on the ecclesiaslial courts, Mius~vfinds the article offensive to his liberal sensibitities, and feels insulted by Ivan's comment that he, Miusov, has misunders~odthe thealogial and political logic of the article as but another ideological debate

about worldly power, Initially (and rather humorously) Miusov mislabels the ecclesial political vision of traditional Orthodox manasticism ""seer ultramantanism,""thus betrqing his Parisian outlook on nineteenth-century Roman Caholic church-state politics.28 He then dismisses Zosima's long discourse an the Church"s position on crime and punishment with a Parisian anecc3lo.te concerning the dangers of Christian socialism. Ivan simply points out Miusov's s n hsion in applying liberal European categories to a debate that calls those categories themselves critically into question, and Miusov then responds with anolher anecdote-&is time about bads lack of faith. At a recent local gathering ban has argued that human love for fellow humans is not based on natural law but on the belief in irnmortafity. W r e &at befief in God and irnmortafity to be destro~d,the moral law of love would no longer hold; indeed, "the moral law of nature aught to change into the =act apposite of the former religous law, and egoism, even to the point of crime" would be the logical. result, a situation in which "all is permitted" (69). The elder strangely and suddenly questions Ivan himself a b u t this: 'Can it be that you redly hold this conviction about the consequences of the ehaustion of men" faith in the immortality of their souls?" Ivan responds &at he does: ""There is no virtue if there is no immortality"";~ which the elder responds, "You are blessed if you believe so, or eke most unhappy!" 0 0 ) . Ivan's response to the elder's insight is a sudden and strange confession of the ambivalence &at the elder has identified, the lack of resolution of this idea in his heart. This division, the elder tells him, demands resolution: ""Llt can it be resolved in myself?ResoIved in a positive way!" Ivan Fyodorovich continued a s h g slrmgely. . . . UEvenif it carnot be resolved in a positive way, it wiU never be raolved in, the negative way either-you yaursdf h o w this p r a p e q of your heart, and herein lies the whole of its torme-nt, But tharik the Creator that he has given you a Ioky heart, apable of being tormented by such a tormeat, 'to set your mind on things that are above, for our tme fiomeXand is in heaven.' M~ayGod grmt that your heart's decision ovea&e you stiXl on earth%and may God bless your pazlh!" "0)

Zosimds conviction that conscience's s 1 I to uniq has an escihatologial orien, conflares Coliossians 3:2-'"et tation is signaled by his biblial q u o ~ t i a nwhich your minds on things that are above"-with Philippians 3:2Ga"Bt our commonwealth (pollleeuma) is in heaven" r perhaps Hebrews 11, where the people who live by fai& as strangers and exiles on the earth seek a "higher homeland;""a pal& built:by God (11:10,13--16;cf. 13:14). The elder's discernment of Ivan's tormented conscience is af a piece with his poXiticaX theolae, that the au&orit)r af

divine rule is already present in Christ" law of love, which will ulrhately transfigure worldly life, including socieq itself, into the city of God, This eschatological orientation, like Ivan" formulation "There is no virtue if there is no immortdiq: is not merely a dadrind question of belief or an ideologiml program, Xt is an mistential orientation tied to a cosmic drama that also has political implications for the practial achievement of justice on the earth.29 The response of the elder to Dmitri is yet more dramatic, The elder" eexhange with Ivan is followed by an increasingly revealing and violent set of charges and countercharges berv~eenFyodor and Dmitri, prefaced by Fyodor" bombastic charge to the elder about the purpose of this g a ~ e r i n gin his cell: ""fudge us and save us! It's not just your prayers we need, but your prophecies!" (71711). The dispute b e ~ e e nfather and son about money quicMy turns into open conflict over their shared love interest, Grushenb, and degenerates into tdk of duels and parricide.30 The ugly sane ends very unexpectedly when the elder kneds deeply before Dmitri, even touching the floor with his forehead, and then begging forgiveness of all his guests. It is a gesture no one understands, but it evokes diEerent responses in the various charactereDmitri flees with his face in his hands, and Miusov takes the gestuire as a display of religious madness, Zosirna explains his "pophetic" ~ s t u l ~to r eATyosha later: ""Iowed yeskrday to his @eat Euture suffering," in response to what he deteaed in Dmitri"~eyes: ksterday T seemed to see something terrible . . . as if his eyes yesterday ewressed his whole fate. He had a certain look . . . so that T was immediatatejy horrified in my heart at what this man was preparing for himseX1: Once or twice I've seen people with the same mpression in their faces . . . as K it portrayed the whoZe fate of the person, and that fate, alas, came about. (285)

He then repeats his specific earlier injunction to "be near your brothers" "("77, cf. 170), thinking that Alyosha" '""brotherly countenance" will help them. This specific injunction is set in the context of Zasimak general commissioning of Alyosha, immediately folfowing the scandalous gathering: "X give you my blessing for a great obedience in the world. . . .Christ is with you. Keep him, and be will keep you. You will behold great sorrow%and in this sorrow you will be happy. Here is a commandment for you: seek happiness in sorrow. Work, work tirelessly (77). The elder's pplrohetic commissioning of Alyosha is reinforced during a later conversation: " k u will go forth from these walfs, but you will sojourn in the world like a monk. You will have many opponents, but p u r v e q enemies will love you, Life will bring you many misfortunes, but through them p u will be happt";and you will bless life and cause others to bless it-which is the most irnportant thing" (285).

In keeping with our suggestion that the monastic pattern is recognized by Dostaevsb as a political theelow &at seeks to overcome the hellish isolation of sin by humble, penitent service of one" neightoor, and that this is nourished by a spiritual. joy increased through active love and the disciplines of prayer, we will explore in the final sedioxl of this chapter how Alyosha begins the pradice of restorative justiw in the gang of chi_ldrc;.n;for it is here that he most cleari-y replicates, in his own un7ique manner, the sgiritud and moral auhority of his elder in k a social setting. But first we consider the novel's lenghy depiction of a s ~ r alternative &sion of justice: the retriibuti-ve justice enacted in the modern liberal courtroom,

The Courtroom:

Adversarial Retribution on Stage It is painfislly ironic that Alyosha fails to remember his elder's specific injunction to visit Dmitri in hose fateful hours prior to the parricide, when his "brotherly countenance'' )is most desperately needed. This "forgetting" i s closely related to Xvan's recitation of his prose poem-a vision that has deeply shaken and saddened Alyosha, so that he feels a special urgency to return to the monastery and his "Pater Serapfiicus;""31as Xvan has called the elder, Immediately prior to his "conversionP AIyosha too is a ""divided man" whose conscience is not yet formed in the uaieing vision required to enact the elder's commissioxl, His genuine but naive faith in his dder still focuses largely on external authority; he has not yet appropriated the dder%spiritual discernment for himself Hence he ffees the disturbing conversatlion with Ivan about the justice of God and human evil-doing, forgetting completely about his brother Dmitri, Similarly, when the venerated elder dies and his inner righteousness is called into question by an external sign (the preternatural putrefaction of the elder's body), &yoshals "wounded heartJ' becomes obsessed with the problem of retributive justice. For Alyosha, this is a ""fatal and confused" moment during which two images or impressions Rash through his mind: a "tormenting and evil impression from the recolledion of the previous day" conversation with his brother Ivan" (340)) and the image of his brother Dmitri, which "reminded him of something, some urgent business, which could not be put off even a moment longer; some duty, some terrible responsibility" (342). Howver, the first impression, with its rebellious anger against Eod"s unjust world, has already taken hold of fiyosha's heart so that the latter image ""did not reach his heart, it R i ~ e dthrough his memory and was fargotten." hter, dyosha will remember this with regrel. It is precisely the need for external vindication of righteousness (what Kierkegaard calls the worldly transparency for the eternal) to which Alyosha

200

TEMPTATION THETHIRD

must die in order to be reborn into the elder’s Christ image of restorativejustice. But in the meantime his neglect of this image and its call to responsibility in his conscience parallels and contributes to Dmitri’s isolated struggle with his feelings of vengeful anger in Fyodor’s garden. It is Mitya who will face the full force of retributive justice in the crime of parricide-for which all three legitimate brothers bear some responsibility, but which the illegitimate brother Smerdyakov carries out. That Mitya should be the one charged with the crime represents a kind of poetic justice, since he is the passionate sensualist most controlled by his desires. This gets him into trouble not only with women-the subject of his basest secret (the dishonorable dealings with Katya)-but causes him to abuse violently three central “fathers” in the novel: Fyodor, Snegiryov, and the servant Grigory. Given this past, his unrestrained speech about his hatred and violent intentions toward Fyodor, and Grigory‘s blood on his hands, it is not surprising that his protestation of innocence is not believed by the police investigators. Yet book 12, which details the courtroom trial of Dmitri, is entitled “A Judicial Error,” and concerns not only a conventional miscarriage of justice on technical grounds but a display of the erroneous measure of justice embodied in the modern liberal judicial process, which stands in stark contrast with the spiritual discernment of the elder.32 The focus of the trial is described by the narrator as the public spectacle of a sensational crime and what promises to be an interesting forensic contestlawyers arrive ‘‘from all over,”and chairs are set up for various dignitaries. Among the many spectators, the narrator reports, there is an especially large number of ladies whose faces exhibit “hysterical, greedy, almost morbid curiosity” (657). Mitya, of course, has a reputation as a “conqueror of women’s hearts,” and the trial promises the appearance of the two women rivals, Katerina and Grushenka-the latter being the explicit occasion behind the crime of passion. The ladies tend to favor Mitya’s acquittal. The male spectators, in contrast, unanimously desire his conviction and punishment, some with considerable vindictiveness. The rivalries sensationally displayed in the crime are vicariously experienced by the spectators of the courtroom drama. The legal performance will consciously exploit these dispositions and desires, though the lawyers are not interested in them for truly moral reasons. Their interest is focused on the contemporary legal and social significanceof the case, to which their careers and reputations are attached. No one is really in doubt about Mitya’s guilt, the evidence beiig what it is. The legal process is viewed as largely a performative matter, the interesting question being what the witnesses will say (especially under examination), what kinds of arguments will be offered to interpret the evidence, and what kinds of considerations will go into the adjudication. The ladies share Madame Khokhlakov’s conviction regarding the “blessing of the new courts” (577), believ-

ing that M i t p will be acquitted ""tcause of humaneness, beause of the new That is, acideas, because of the new feelings going around nowadqs" @m3). cording to the new legal criteria, medical evidence may be used to ague, in Mme. a o f i l a k s g s words, "a legal fit of passion . . . b r which h e y brgive ever~hing."" 3%e men, s n the oher band, are more interested in the struggle bel-tveen legal rivals, the local prosecutor (with all the evidence on his side) and h e famous Petersburg defense attorney, Fetyrakovich, whose briltiant legal reputation is renowned. It is important to note that the trial is not the locus of a dispute between Westernizers and Slavophaes on the ""social quesrion": Mitya's trial is sensational because it involves a case of parricide in which the son is accused of murdering the father over a love rivalry, and thus it highlights a breakdown in traditional "&mily values"";ut aU of the legal actors share a commitment to Westernizing legal reforms. Though both prosecutor and defense attorney in arwing their case appropriate Christian language pertaining to the family, it is clear that this is a fundamentally liberal debate over "Christian values" and which kind of Russian ""pogressivism" they will support. The presiding judge, an educated humanist "with the most modern ideas,""is also a party to this dispute: His chief goal in life was ta be a progressive man. . . , He taok, as it turned out later, a rather passionate view of the Karmazov me, but only in a gernerd smse. He was conerxzed with the &entomenon, its classification,seeing It as a product of our social principles, as characteristic of rhe Russian element, and so on. and so forth. But his attitude towards the personal chracter of the case, its tragedy, as well as the persons of the participan&,beghing with the defendant, was rather indigerent and albslract, as, by the way, it perhaps ought to have been. (659) The detached, scientific exactitude of the secular, progressivist judge s ~ n d in s sharp contrast to the engaged spiritual disposition of the elder toward matters of justice. The ideological line sf the prosecution, expressed early in the testimony by Rakitin, portrays the tragediy sf the case as the result of ingrained habits of serfdom and the current disorder of a Russia in need of "proper institutions" (6&7), presumably of the sort provided by the new law and courts, The medial expertise, however, and its presumed importance as a "blessing of the new courts,"" turns out not to have a decisive rofe in the trial, par* because of the comical disagreement among experts about Miva's psychological condition.33 More crucial. is the demented confession of ban, which incites the hysteria1 outburst by Katerina, the ""mathematicalproof" she oEers as evidence, and the vengeful testimony against Miqa, painhlly extracted from her by the judge and the prosecutor. Both

unexpeaed, "raving" testimonies by Ivan and Katya are ruled admissible, and Katyaysletter is added to the table of material evidence (under which, Ivan has said, the devil is sitting). Katyaysletter is treated as a mathematical, Ectclidean ""proofm-but as we know "facts" too are appearances; their causality is not transparently evident in them. The disjuncture b e ~ e e ncourtroam evidence and the real relations of the human beings involved, and their psychological and moral meaning, is nowhere more clearly displayed than in the concluding speeches by the two layers, Like Katya, Ippoljir Kiriitovich the prosecutor seeks "revengeB-not for a violated personal honor34 but for the violated honor of the Russian socieq he so desires to save (693). His statement for the prosecution is an eloquent commentary on ""civic" matters, and situates the significance of Psli~a'scrime in relation to the ""accursed questions"-the spiritual and social principles and the hture of Russian society; Xt is, herefore, a prophetic speech-"the chef 8oeuvre of his whole life, his swan song," as Xppolit himself considered it (693). The crime of parricide in the "nice little famay" Karamzov evinces certah '%signs of the tnnes: signs that foretell the future of Russia" unrestrained social order, galloping, like Gogal's "bold Russian troika,""toward an unhown goal (695). Ippolit will interpret those signs of the times by prophetiauy linking the psycholof5y of Russian crime to the social. question in general. ampared with the ridiculously narrow positivist psycholog of the medical expert from Moscow, Ippolityssocial psycholom is highly astute and illuminating, Victor Terras suggests that his treatment of these questions is very like Dostoevsky%own in Diary o f a Mrriter+3fYet although some of Ipgolit7slanguage is similar ta Dostoevsky"~,the overall interpretation is radically different, More importantly for our purposes here, the ""jddgment" (it is not reauy discernment) Ippolit pmnounces upon the various brothers and the crime diverges markedly from elder Zosirnays. Here, then, is the prosecutor" account: Fpdor, the unfortunate victim, who begins as "a poor little sponger: turns into an opportunistic and skilKuL a p i ~ l ist whose sensualism and "extraardinary thirst for Life" over time are crudely and c p i a l l y reduced ta mlgar self-gratification-"the whole spiritual side has been scrapped" (696), including any notion of faaerly duty. Such a "modern-&y" father wiIl not only evok outrage in his children but also will instil1 in them crude moral ideas and practices that lead toward parriciiie. Ivan, for example, is a modern inleaedual whose spiritual unrestraiat is aptured in his thesis ""all is permitted: a horriEyxng teaching that will finr&ex corrupt othexs,36 This teaching, daims the prosecutor, represents a deformed understanding of European enlightenment. Alyosha, by contrast, is stiU an innocent and pious youth who ""cings to "poplar foundations,"so to speak""(697)-namely; the monastic l i f e a n action, says Ippolit, manifesting an unconscious "tiixnd despair" in the face of the de-

praved cynicism of his father and brothers. His escapist path (""like children frightened by ghosts" who run to the ""motherly embrace of the native eartv) portends an even greater danger to Russia than does Ivan's distorted enlightenment philosophy, since it so o&en turns into "&rk mysticism on the moral side, and witless chauvinism on the civic side.""37 It is the fiwre of Miqa, however, that most fully represents ""ingenuous Russia": Neither fully enlightened in the European sense nor tied to the popular monastic foundations of traditional Russian pkry; Mitya represents a volatile and unresolved mkture of influences both good and evil. Ippolit's portrait recapitulates signifiant features of tLliqaYsown earlier romantic "confession" ta Lolyosha: the love of nature, of beauty, of SchiUer, combine-rl with lusrS111disorder that falls "head d o m and heels up" "to the abyss of wlgsrr, violent passion (107). There is a duality. in the Russian makeup, claims Ippolit, that is well demonstrated in the breadth of nature of the bramamvs, which is "capable of containing all possible opposites and of contemplatingboth abysses at once, the abyss above us, an abyss of lofty ideals, and the abyss beneath us, an abyss of the lotvest and foulest degradation"' ((699).Mityds parricidal "fit of passion,""then, is in no way "unnatural"; given his bitter amieties about money (exacerbated by Fyodork qnical dealings) and the kenzied erotic rivalry with his father over Grushenka, it is a predic~bleoutcome. It is not the factual details of the crime, finally, that interest the civic-minded prosecutor, so much as the general Russian malaise to which it points and to which he returns at the end of his speech. In the chapter entitled "Psychslo~at Full Steam: The Galloping Troika: the prosecutor" civic-minded moralism and its terms of reference become clear. He believes he has captured the complexity of Mitya" character with the "WO abysses" of conscience, but like the pre-conversion Mitya, he has assigned them a purely romantic meaning-rooted in the passions and their worldly objects (money and erotic love): M i t p goes to Mokroy.e:to '"nish. the poerna" with a memorable suicide, which is averted by his discovery that Grushenka loves him after all. Here too the "state of the criminal" soul: though no doubt tormented by the revenge of outraged nature, overcomes the suicide plan-not through the HamXetian perception of ""what lies beyond"" but through slavish submission to the prospect of more immediate gratification of desire and the invention of an escape plan. So he hides the extremity of his situation from himself through drunken fantasy and monetary calculation. Mitya3ssubsequent arrest and the journey of his soul through the torments of inquisition are reduced to an "animal thirst for self-salvation" "(71, and his answers to the investigators are therefore filled with subtle and indeed artistic cunning. Despite this vulgar, highly rhetorical reductionism of Mitya's sou1 and conscience, the prosecutor ends his speech with an impassioned charge ta the jury (made up largely of lo-

cal peasants) not to allow the defense attorney" rhetoric to manipulate their emotions: Remember still that at this moment you are in the sanctuary of our justice, Remember that you are the defenders of our truth, the defenders of our holy Russia, of her foundations,of her family;of all that is hob in her! ks, here, at this moment, you reprexM Russia, and your verdict wiU resound not only in this couflroom but for all of Russia, and all of Russia will listen to you as to her defenders and judges, and will be either heartened or di~auragedby your verdict, Then: do not torment Russia a d her expectations,our fatehl t r o h is racing headlong, perhaps to its destmdion, (7221 It is discult to imagine a less consistent rhetorical appeal, givm the prosecutor's initial depiction of the Russian character and its &ws. So it is not surprising that he ends his speech with a threat-the threat that the enlightened European b r w s of civilization may not stand aside as the troijka races along but may instead seek to halt this mad course of unrestraint, out of love Eor humaniq. Ippo1,ir implores the jurors not to tempt European alarm or "add to their ever-bcreasing hatred with a verdict justi*ng the murder of a father by his own son!" Retributive justice must be done, not only to restore just order in Russia but alw to ensure that modern liberal justice is seen to be done by enlightened Europeans, lest Russia be forced to turn over h e reins of its own destiny The retributiw inquisition conducted by Ippolit has yielded no red insight eih e r into the facts of the case (which he completely misconstrues) or into Mitya's psychological condition, his conscience. One could say of Ippolit, as he says of Miva, "here is a good deal of posturing here, of mmantic kenzy, o f . . . sentimentality (I7 116).h d indeed Fetpkovich the defense I a ~ e will r crue1X.y.and repeakdly. tar Ipipolit with his o m rhetoricsll brush, accusing him (as Ippolit has Miqa) of indul@ngin a cunning artistic game, "the creation of a noveY (romana play on words, since the Russian can also mean "romancem")f his own in the display of his considerable rktarimX and psychological gifis, Fewkovich disingenuously suggests that he cannot compete with the prosecutor as rhetorician and psychologist (i.e., as "novelist'" but that he brings a judicial detachment and objectivity to the case that are IocaUy lackng. The defense a~orney-as he did in his skiUhl cross-examination of local witnesses-crafiily introduces a doubt about . thou& he the local popularion's ability to judge Miqa's case ~ t h o u t"prejudice: will later shamelessly exploit &eir presumed religlious prejudices, when his surnmation for the defense takes a highly rhetorical and bafietic turn. First, however, Fetymkovich will show that psychology, though profound, is nonethdess "a stick with m o ends? One can construe the evidence, each perti-

nent fact, in exactly the opposite light to that suggested by the prosecumr if one takes "the same psy.chologymand applies it ""from the other end" "("727).That is, if one assumes that Mitya did not commit the parricide and was aaing with a "clear conscience," one can m a k out a quite digerent account: "X myself, gentlemen of the jury, have resorted to psycholsm now$in order to demonstrate that one can draw whatever conclusions one likes &om it, Xt all depends on whose hands it is in" (("728).He then plrrsceeds to lay out an acmunt of the facts that is exactly mrrect-not on@ with regard to Mitya's actions and motivations but aXso in its characterization of Smerdyakov, Contrary. to the prosecutor's impression that Smerdyakov is a sick and timid victim, Fevkovich finds him spiteful, mistrustful, ambitious, vengeful, and burning with e n v behind his mask of nai'vetk-and quite cunning in his testimony: As for the prosecutor's argument that Smerdyakov had "enough conscience" to write a suicide note "m as not to blame anybody" (712), and thus could easily have aMed a conkssion to the crime, Petpkovich begs to diEer: Excuse me, but conscience hplies repentance, and it may be that the suicicie was not repentarzz:but sirnjply in eIespai~Despair and repenance are ttvo tarally difirent thi~lgs,Despair can be mlicious and hplacable*and the suicide, as he was t&ing his life, may at that moment have felt mice as much hatred for those whom he had envied dl his life. Gentlemen of the jury, beware of a judicid error! (740)

Up to this point the defense attorney" account has achieved the truth,39 and he himself proceeds to "swear by all that" holy" that he completely bdieves this explanation of the facts. And yet the reader already h a w s that Miva has no such assurance regarding what his latvyer believes. He has told Aliyosha: "Forget the laverl I talked with him about evewhing [Fetyukovich"~ true account is realily Miva's own], He's a smooth Petersburg s ~ n d l e rA, Bernarcl! He just doesn? believe a pennyorth of whait. I say. He thinks I killed him, can you imagine?'"(593). Qnsequentl~~ at the end of his summation, Fe~kovicKstone changes dramaticallly; and he extends his appeal to the jury beyond the issue of judicial error: "Remember, p u are given an immense power, the power to bind and to loose," citing the words of the Gospel (Matthew 16:X9; 18:1&),40One is reminded of the prosecutor" '%sanctuary of justice" and "defenders of holy Russia and her holy foundations" hnf3uaf5e;but such rhetorical excesses are "an adultery of thought" in the argument of the smooth Petersburg swindler, Ironically, the words of Jesus on binding and loosing pertain not at all to secular courts of law but to relationships in the church communiv-in particular, to the spiritual power of moral discernment and intended reconcitiatian b e ~ e e ndivided members of a communiV.41 The procedure outlined in the Gospel sands in stark contrast to the ju-

dicial decision of a courtroom jury. In the Biblical text, indeed, the power to bind and to loose is not attacfied in any way to a form4 ofice, and the intention is not retributive but rather restorative. It is in fact related precisely to the dder's language of conscience as "the law of Christ,""a phrase that appears in Galatims ti: "My friends, if anyone is detected in a transgression, you who have received the Spirit should restore such a one in a spirit of grendeness. Take care that p u p u r selves are not tempted. Bear one another's burdens, and in this way you will fuIfill the I a t ~of Christ" (&:l-2). Restorative justice, for St. Paul as for the elder, requires a penitential consciousness, the atvareness of one's own tveakness and solidariq in guilt, It becomes clear that the pious l a v e r understands neither his own Biblial langtlage nor the profundiv of his earlier obsewations on the difference b e ~ e e nrepentance and despair. Fetyukovich begins his "adultery in thought" with the seductive rhetoric of sincerity.: "X have it in my heart to speak out something more to you, for X also smse a great struggle in your hearts and minds . . .Let us all be sincere" (741). He will address the "prejudke" of the jurors and the local populace with regard to the crime of parricide. The prejudice is rooted in spiritual Christianity and its mystial elevation of filiation in traditional trinitarian lanf3uaf5e about God the Father and God the Son, The authority of such language, implies the prosecutor, should not be accepted blindly and should not be allowed in this case to influence the judgment of Psliya's crime-at least, not negatively So, gentlemen of the jury, what is a real fa&er, what ""great idea""is conbiaed in fatherhood? Precisely the kind of loving care and sacrificial attention that are so conspicuously absent in Fy-odor Karamazav. Indeed, if anyone is responsible h r the "wild beast" that Miva has become, it is his negledhl, v i a l , and perverse father who does not deserve to be called a father. h d yet, despi-t-ethis, the evidence also shows that Miva has a passionate and noble, sensitive heart. Such a heart should be treated with gendeness, not crud vindiaiveness, in keeping with "the crucified lover of mankincl""who gave his life for his sheep, Here the "windling)' begins, as Fetyukovich cites the New Testament and uses Christian language to distort the teachings of Christ." He rejects the teachings of traditional, "mystial"" Christimity. in order to develop a progressive, rational account of fatherhood and fiXial love: "Love that is not justified by the father is an hsurdity; an impossibility: and therefore only those who are worthy fathers may be considered true fathers, It is our Christian duty here "to foster only those convictions that are justified by reason and experience, that have passed through the crucible of analysis." Hence, the only way t-o establish fatherhood is as follows: Let the son stand before the father and ask him reasonably: "'Father, tell me why should I love you? Pazlher, prove to me &at T should love you"-and

if the faher

cm, if he is able to answer and give him proof, then we have a real, normal famiry; established not just on mysticat prejudicct, but on reasanable, self-accountable,and stricGy humne faundations. In the opposite cirse, if the father can give no proofthe family is finished h e n and there: he is not a fa&er to his son, and the son is free and has the ri&r henceforth to look upon his fa&er as a stranger and even as his enemy. 6745-746)

Mi"fya3smurderous deed, therefore, was an involuntav, unrestrained, but natural "fit of passion"' for avenging the eviJ deeds of an enemy-"Eke aU things in nature." But such a murder is not a parricide; indeed, it is not even a murder. It codd be so considered only 'but of prejudice*" Fetwkovich here puts not only Fyodor but fatherhood itself on trial (using language similar to that in Ivan's sRebellion" against Go&s world), He justifies a lie in the soul in order to hide real. guilt. Definitions af parricide and murder, as well as moral norms governing filial and familial relations, are matters of social convendon, and therefore must be justified rationally within the terms of this world (even if one wishes to appeal to religious sanctions for rhetorical or political reasons). As Fyodor did not fulf 11 his parental duties, he does not deseme to be =led a fa-thier. As he was a perxrse and evil man, not only neglecting but deliberately provoking his sensitive son to wrath, the murder was not a truly evil act but a natural and reasonable consequence, In case the peasants in the jury box still stand behind their traditional prejudices, however, Fetyukovich will conclude with yet another misted rhetorical appeal.-this time parodying the wards both of Matthew 25 (a judgment scene) and af Zosima concerning guilt and the punishment of conscience. If Mitya is condemned, he will justly be confirmed in his bitterness toward his fellow citizens. He will s q : They did nothing to relieve the misery of my childhood or to make me a better man, they did not give me to eat and drink, did not visit me in prison, and now they have exiled me to penal semitude. Such a verdict will destroy what natural goodness is left in him, thus easing his conscience even while chafing his heart, The true, restorative punishment would be to "overwhefirn him with your mercy" by a great act af compassion. He will then be avewfnelmed with repentance and his debt ta society, and his soul will expand in tender gratitude. This will represent a vindication of Russia as a "majestic Russian chariot" "guided by its salvific civil justice, not a mad, mystical troika: ""X is for me, insignificant as X am, to remind you. that the Russian courts exist not only for punishment but also for the salvation of the ruined man! Let other nations have the letter and punishment, we have the spirit and meaning, the salvation and regeneration of the lost. And if so, if such indeed are Russia, and her courts, then-onward Russia!" "("747-"748).

Though FetpkovicFs plea for merq, for a punishment of conscience, bears a superficial resemblance to the ideas of elder Zosirna, it is not a plea (%chard kace to the contrav" that Zosirna-or Dostoevs uld accept. Yet just as some of Xppolit's lanpage can be identified with Dostoevsky" own in spite of basic substantive differences, so too can the defense attarnefs. Language, like psychollogy and various forms of authoriq, is obviously "WO-ended,"In: 187'7, Dostoevsky played a highly publicized role (in print) in the criminal trials of a pregnant stepmother named Komilova, who in a fit of passion directed at her husband, threw her stepdaughter out of a window44 In his comments on the eventual acquiaal of this woman, who confesed to and showed remorse for her crime of child abuse, Dostoevsb takes up the issue of "merq" in terms comparable to FemkovicHs appeal for Miva. In doing so he is accused in print by a critic of being too "impressionab1eP too soft on crime, for not having adequate concern for victims, in this case helpless children, and the deterrence of hrttter such crimes*Dostoevsws comments show that his own understanding of merq difers crucially fmm FewkovicEs, in h a t this understanding is plremised on an awareness of true guilt, not on medial or environmental or oher ""rtional" excuses for crime. In cases where here is genuine repentance, merq a n lead to a higher happiness and clarity. of conscience (which also bears a measure of suffering in it) precisely beause it does not deny guilt. Such mercy. also places an obligation on the soul, not through punitive measures but through the more powerful motivation of love: "And so the whole question in the Komilova case amounts merely to the End sf soil in which the seed fellm-if on good soil, the truly penitent heart, she will be restor& to life.45 FetpkovicMs dramatic but misted rhetorical display evokes a rapturous tide of enthusiasm in h e courtroom, The prosecutor seeks to stem the tide by rebutting this "novel upon novel""offered by Fetpkovich: h a t this murder is not redly a murder, that parricide is a mere prejudice, that Christ" language of "measure for measure" "justifies the murder of those who offend us ra&er &an the chee-kturning forgiveness even of our enemies. But with this last point, and his subsequent appeal to the high Christolsm sf ""re whole of Orthodox Russia," which Fetyzzkovich has so distorted, the prosecutor also unwittingly subverts his own retributive argument-hough he does not see it, Xt is clear that his appeal to traditional beliefs and family values is simply in the service of a conventional moralism that separates persona1 morality (of the sort advocated in the gospels) from social institutions (which are guided by liberal progressivist notions of order), He seeks here strategically to impugn the person& piety of his legal rival and the inexcusable behavior of Miva-not in order to apply the spiritual trulfi of Christ to his own line of argument on civic order and justice (it has no place there), but in order to win the case. m a t we have in these two legal representatives are dif-

fering ideological rhetorics (one ""canservative" or "reaaionavy and the other a kind of revolutionary romanticism) on the common ground of liberal progressivism. Social salvation for both lavers lies in the modern courts, though they disagree an the best juridical and political methods to atQin such an enlightened society-a hard-line "law and order" approach based on the protection of individual rights, the logic af deterrence, and the security af the family (XppoXit); ar radical social engneering and the exircise of ""scial compassion" (Femkovich). OF course, this is to put the best construd on what could simply be interpreted as the crass manipulation of rhetorial images, designed to win the case for personal glory. A frequent obsewer of crimind trials, Dostaevsky beEeved this to be an inherent problem in modern adversarial justice, which assumes that a distorting construal of the facts and maggerated arguments on each side will somehow lead to the truth that presumably lies somewhere in bemeen.46 Hot only was Dostaevsb suspicious of such assumptions (namely, that "ultimatelypthe truth does emerge h m all this and emerges even mechaniauy, so to say, through a most devious process,""1 168; he also believed that public processes and practices of this kind breed eynicism and lack of discernment not only in the lavers but abo in the public watching the spectacle:"hople no longer yearn for trulfi but for talent, so long as it a n amuse and divert them," He argued that these mechanisms of adversarial justice, which a t e r to appearance and spectacle, should be replaced by the disciplined pursuit of and arpment for the truth. Xn The Brs-t-hersKaranzamv, such an alternative approach to socid and political justice is offered in the practical institution of elders and the ascetic practices of the church, Alyosha bears witness to the manner in wkrkkr this alternative vision may be taken out of the monaskry and into the world.

The Political Danger of a Nonpolitical Ideal: An Arendtian Objection Before we examine Alyosha's penitential pdticarl pradiw in the concluding pages of T'he Bro&ers Karanzmov, let us consider briefly an importitnt objection to public appeals to mercy and compassion, whether Christian or socialist, m e n Dostoevse suggests that the poljirics of the French Revolution and of Russian socialism47 address the Christian questions "from the other end: it is important to see exactly what he means to say, since this is explicitly at issue in the crucial exchanges b e ~ e e nAlyosha and Kolya, in book 10. In order to cIari9 this, let us consider Hannah Arendt$ interesting comments on "The Social Question" in her book, Orr Revolution, in which she explicitly refers to Dostoevsky's 'Grand fnquisitar." Arendt asserts that Ie peuple is the key word for understanding the

French Revolution, and that its definition was born out of compassion by those exposed to the spectacle of suffering and misery on the part of fepeupk toajazlrs matheureux, in which they did not themselves share." This p&tics of cornpassion, argues Arendt, is miswided from the outset beause by its true nature it must be evoked by and direded toward the particular-it has no capacity br generalintion. m e n it becomes generalized, seeking the liberation, equdity, and brotherhood of all, in a social votorztd ge"nerat6,it quicMy becomes to~litarian-a spiritual unity of will rather than of shared wrlcily institutions.$g Dostoevsky"~ poetic depiction of the Grand Inquisitor is designed to point up the stark contrast b e ~ e e nthe apolitical spirit of true mmpassi~nrepresented in Christ and the tragic and self-defeating politics of distorted compassion represented by the prophetic words of the Inquisitor, k o r d i n g to Arendt, Dostoevsws point is to show the impossibility of turning Christ's teachings and deeds af campassion into a political order of rational law: To Dosloevsky, the sign of Jesus-ivinity clearly vvas his albiliq to have compassion with all men in their sinwlarity, that is, without lumping them tagether into same such entity as one sufferingmankind. The greatness of the story, apart from its theofogial implications, lies in that we are made to feel how false the idealistic, hi&Bown phrases of the most aquisite pity sound the momens they are confronted with c~mpahssion,s~

To Arendt, the silence of Christ in Ivan" poem is the very language of compassion, listening attentively to the suffering Xnquisitar and responding finallly-not in , kiss. This compassion expresses the very irnspeech but in a personal g e s t u ~the age of God portrayed by Rousseau, as one "who could understand the passions of men without feeling any of &enn,""s'but in Arendfs &mit cmnot become a political model without grotesque distortion, True compassion abolishes the worldly spacdemeen human beings-the very space where political speech and affairs occur, It a n n o t establish lasting worldly institutions (legislativeand legal), even as it cannot engage in the argument, negotiation, and compromise of political reason and law Were such pure compassion, such "&solute goodness,""to take political adion in the world, it could only do so with the "swift and direct" (one might say ""apocalyptic") application of destruction so as to establish the terms of goodness without compromise." This is so, says Arendt, because it is rooted in a "goodness that is beyond virtue, and hence beyond temptrtttion, ignorant of the argumentative reasoning by which man fends off temptations~"~~ It is ironic indeed, then, that "The Grand Inquisitor" is structured as a trial. in which Christ" rrgponses to the three temptations are called into question. Arendt's claim, it would seem, is the emct apposite of Dostoevsws, For her

Gain" murder of Abel remains paradigmatic for politics and law in a fallen world. The only other politicat possibiEq she can see is-like Rousseau and the French revolutionists-to reverse the primordial crime by having Abel l i d Cain. 'IThis deed of violence in the name of "origind goodness" would unleash the same chain of evildoing as did original sin, but it would also erase the clear distinction b e ~ e e ngood and evil. In other vvclrds, perhaps a politics of pure love could exist in heaven, where no evil and no suffering block it, but it cannot build real communities of justice on the earth, In this at leat, it would seem, the Grand Inquisitor is right. In order to discern how exactlly D o s t o e v ~ concepGon ~s of Christian politics di&rs from Arendt" interpretation, it is necessary to explore Arendt" understanding of ""pblic virtue;""which is the only. sort of speech and aaion she conresiders appropriate to politics. The term "pubXic,c,"she mainQins, signifies lated phenomena: the widest possible "appearance" or publicity; and the common, visible artifacts and institutions that ga&er human beings into a common world." C61-rstian charity fails the test on both counts. As a virtue, love is private and "worldless"-especial@ the Christian love taught by Jesus, which seeks to hide its p o d deeds korn view (see Manhew &),S5 Nor can the bond of "brafierly Love" hund a truly. public politial community, says Arendt, although "it is admirably fit to a r r y a group of essentially worldless people through the world, a group of saints or a group of criminals [a group of martys or a group of inquisitors], provided only that it is understood that the world itself is doomed."% "Indeed, the very language used by Christians to describe community-% %boy; whose memb-efrswere to be r d a t d to each other like brothers of a familyB%-is "unpoliteal" and "nonpublic,""indeed even "antipoXitical," According to Arend~the only communities in which the principle of chariq became the basis for some sort of potjirical order w r e the monastic orders, in which excellence viewed as a source of pride constandy undermined the building up of a lasting public Life or memory (an "earbly immortali~"")A pdtics of compassion could truly exist only in heaven. Substantively, though not ideologically, Arendt's position on Christianity.parallels Gradovsws, However, such an analpis of politics assumes a discontinuity bel-tveen earth and heaven, this world and the ""other world: public and private, that Dostoevsk;yfs Christian vision rejecb. The Engdom of God and its jusdce (dikaz'osyrze; see Matthew 6:33), although not hlly apparent to the external e).e, are nevertheless present on the earth and are not unaware of earthly needs. Furthermore, their action is not unworldly but is precisely the subject matter for a generative political memory, the pardigmatic s t o v of Jesus and the narrative of the New Testament, and the stl_bsequent6tness of the church in time as the embodied enadment of that pattan. "Jhe immortality that Christians seek is not purely "0th-

erworldly,""as if it has no connection with this world; rather, the telos of history in the "new Jerusalem" that "comes down out of heaveny'is intirnat-glyconnected to aaions in this world and to the ""pwer" or ""authori~JQdeictedin the person of Jesus, the slain Lamb.

"Like Chadren": Educating the Russian Boys Dostoevse displays his approach to the "social question" horn the "other end," in the educative exchange bemeen Myosha and the leader of the gang of boys, Kolya b a s o t ~ nRobert . B e b a p has suggested that Ko1y.a is a parody. of both Ivan and the Grand Inquisitor, educa.t-gdas he has been by Ivan's intelleaual sideEck Rakitin.58 But ""prody)" may not be exactly the right term, since Kolya is a highly precocious student and an intimidatingly accomplished, charismatic leader of other children. He is more like a double whose mimetic enactment (as a fatherless only child) of these models of desire becomes the occasion, in the novel, for revealing the a p a c i q of Myosba's contrasting ""authoriq,""modeled after the elde$s, to engage and reorder the sQnce of the "Russian bays" on the eternal questions, M e n the bro&ers Ivan and Myasha ""get acquainted""in the tavern conversation leading up to Ivan's recitation of his prose poem, it is clear that they are d r a m to one another not only by blood and shared childhood memories but by shared interest in the perennial questions-an interest shared by ""a1 of young Russia" "33). The question of how the ever-you&hJ erotic love of life is related to its meaning in the order of things is the subject of this discussion by these two "Russian boys,? who want to get acquainted with. one another.59 Ivan sees that this modern Russian discussion is dominated by European hypotheses-that "most precious graveyard""of ideas summed up in Voltaise's aphorism: S'il m'=&filitpas Bieu, ilfiudrait l"inverzter [If God did not exist, it would be necessary to invent him] (234). Enlightened European hpotheses (as Nietzsche also prophetically recognizd) all revolve around the death of God-that is, the seE-conscious recognition that ideas of Gad are human inventions used in support of certain moral and politial conventions of order. Ivan goes on to make an important obswvation about the "Russian boys"-namely that "what is a hypothesis there [in Europe] immediately becomes an axiom [i.e., a basis for action] for a Russian boy" "(23. He then makes his "confession" to lolyosha about his ""essence," his ""-lhesisB-that it is not God but this m r l d of Goas, created by God, that he cannot accept on the grounds of its injustice, Far Ivan this is no abstract inl-gllec-tual hpothesis but ra&er a practical quesrion of how ta live; hence, he says, he has begun (as Russian conversations of this sort all do) ""as stupidly. as possibleJ' (236). m y ? Beause whereas "reason is a scoundrel, stupidity is direct and hon-

est," and it gets straight ta the existential point. The point of Ivanys'""tugid"" confession to his pious bro&er is ""not that I want to corrupt p u and push you off your foundation; perhaps I want to be healed by youm-and he suddenly smiles like a little boy. What is the illness of which Ivan seeks healing! We have seen Alyosha" slater diagnosis of it as "the torments o f . . . a deep conscience" (655); here, Ivan calls it "my despair" "(236). Gerkregaard"~exposition of Christian psychology helps us understand Ivan's spiritual illness as the self's inabiliv to relate to the eternal God (of which it is a reflection), and therehre its inhility to reflect accurately upon itself-in other words, as impaired seE-c;onsciousness.~OThis relation is indeed the ground of human spiritual freedom, the abiliv to transcend the immediacy of one" external, temporal environment through refleaion on various possibilities for action and becoming a certain sort of person before God. Despair, defined in Christian tarns, is the inability to act upon this spiritual freedom to be (or to become) a self wi&in time yet also in rdation ta eternity*In eEect it is a person" desire "to tear his self away from the power that es~blishedit.""" According to Kierkegaard there are various farms of despair, correlative to the level. of spiritual self-consciousness a person has. Inn, Alpsha says, is "deep." His acceptance of ""scalar" "ropean hypotheses is not smooth and unselfconscious-he is tormented by the reduction of human life to Euclidean finitude, to the ""erthy force of Karamazov baseness" without the brooding presence of the Holy Spirit (220; cf. 230,263). He realizes that to actualize himself in. such a manner will lead to suicide of one sort or another-such an mpenditure of the erotic thirst b r life will not keep despair at bay, he specuIates, past the age of thirty; Qn the other hand, he a n n o t unders~ndor accept the world as it is, FYiith its unjust and alrlaitrary suffering-especially the suffering of children who are punished far the sins of their base fathers, which is, s;tys Ivan, "~asoningfrom another world; for the human heart here on earth it is incomprehensible" (238). Such a world and such a God are impossible to love. In Ivan, then, the despair of the human condition divided from God is not unconscious but rather highly developed, He is a man not af imme&aq but of what Gmkegaard calls "inclosing resewe,""62a self trapped within its inner division. and yet unable ta repent of it by entering into relation with God. Ivan understands that d his own grounCI:""Xw made up my mind to stick to the he h tstkng his s ~ n on fact . . ."";"Oh, with my paaetic, earthly, Euclidean mind, I h o w only . . . ";" X need retribution . . . ";"1 want to see e t h my o m eyes . . . ";";Mile I am on the earth, I has~enta take my o m measures . . . ";"I absolutely renounce all higher harmony . . . ";'? want ta remain with unrequited suffering . . . and my unquached indignation, even $1 am wrong (243-245). Ivan ends his bng lament, punctuated &roughout by the first person with his rejection of the ""to higV

price t-o be paid for admission t-o the divine harmony game. His profound intellectual and mord honesty requires him to "most respecthllf2etum his admission ticket to God, "That is rebeDion,""says Alyosha, and even here Ivan is conscious of the spiritual implication: "kkllian? I dodt like hearing such word fiom p u . . . One cannot live by rebdlion, and X want to live" (245). Even here Xvan is fully. conscious, He understands that suicide is the most despairing attmpt of the spirit to escape its existence before Eod.63 Vet there is anotkr form of despair, which a d k l y wiUs to live even in that rebellion by which one a n n o t live-this is the politics of rebellious despair depicted in Ivan's prose poem. "This kind of despak is rarely seen in the world;""says Gerkegaard. ""S& characters really appear only in the poets, the real ones, who always lend 3emonic3deaEv. . .to their creations.""" ban is such a poet; and it is important to see that the pditics of "The Grand Inquisitor'' is not separated or srsparable &am the state of consciousness&am the inclosing reservethat it represerxts. It is the consistent o u ~ o r k i n gin the world of the separation h m God that represents parodic sdf-contradictionthe fact that only the spiritual a v e r of seemkg fai& can hide this h e i e t of rebellion against the relation of faith, kom oneself and &am ohers. This is the lie in the soul enaded as public "order? which is truly in violent rebellion against divine harmony; It can only inl-gnsifythe suffering and division that give rise to it in the first place, even as they claim to overcome it. We will consider this poetic, idealized form of despair in its disclosure before the silent Christ mare fully in the next chapter. For the moment we are interested in the boyish ""double" of the despairing Xvan and his legendary InquisitorKolya KrasotEn, who practices the politics of enlightened despotism as leader of the gang of Russian boys. Kalya is a hyper-self-conscious alrnost-fourteen-yearold who is wll-read, a show-off, and above all, "extremely vain."a Because of this, although he is obviously possessed of deep feelings, he sternly shuns all forms of what he calls ""sentimental slop" W as to cultivate a disciplined regime of obedient children-much as he trains dogs. The basis of KolyaJsrule parallels the Inquisitor" parodic correction of Christ" relation to the ""tree earthly powers"-miracle, mystery, and authority His dazzling stunts of death-de+ing bravado gain him a reputation as a "desperac;aQW even among older chddren; and his mysterious secret regarding "who bunded Tray;" a derivati-ve bit of hidden information taken from one of his dead father's books, is used to create the impression that he has a superior inteuect and could even ""sow up the teacher."& His authority is exercised as a patronizing, protectlive "love" h a t rewards and &reatens by turns, so as to instill his strict code of discipline and loyalty in others. One can see this in Kolyaystreatment of the ""squirts" he babysits, in the peasants he meets, and above all in the schoolboys-Ilmsha, in particular,

Kolya already has a well-developed (for a child) "inclosing resewem""-he hates sentirnentalities and prides himself on his superior howledge of human nature and the honorable ideals served by his discipllmed pedagogy. He boasts to AXpsha about having saved Ilyusha, Snegiry.ov%small, weak, but proud boy, from his bullying clssmates: they adore me, do you h o w that Karamazov? . . .h d f like kids generaay, . . .So, after that they gopped beating Ilpsha, and I took him under my proteaion, f saw he was a proud bay, f can, tell you how proud he is, but in the end he gave himself up to me like a slave, obey& my every order, Iistmed to me as though! I w r e God, tried to copy me, , . . I was teaching hirn, developing him. . , , I noticed that a sort of tenderness, sensitivi* was developing in the boy; and, you knows X am decidedly the enemy of all sentimental slop, . . . Mareover, there were contradiaions: he w s pratrd, but devoted to me like a slav+devoted to me like a slave, yet suddenly his eyes wuXd @ashand he wouldn't even wmt to agree wi& me, he'd argue, beat on the wall. . . . ft wasn't that he disagreed with the ideas, I could see that he was simply rebelling against me personally, because I responeled coZdXy to his sentimentalities.And so, the more senthental he became, the coZder I was, in order to season him; I did it on purpose, because it's my conviction. I had in mind to discipline his character*to shape him up, to create a person, (534) f beat them up-and

Two events then coincided to break Xlyusha" spirit, each tied to negative brms of spiritual causality. and pointing to the close connection b e ~ e e nthe personal (or psychols@cal)and the social or political levels, Smerdy-akovhad behiended Ilyusha and taught hirn a ""beastly trick""-they stuck a pin into a piece of bread and tossed it to a hungry "yard dog" Zhuchka, who stvalXotved it and started squealing, running in circles, and finauy disappearing, obviously in pain, Ilpsha, full of remorse, ""cnfesses" his dede to Kolya, and Kolya sees an opportunity.to discipline him and break his pride. And so he temporarily "breaks relations" with flpsha, whom he accuses of being a scoundrel. It is an excammunicalion that ""struck [Xlpshaj terribly? and he rebels against Kolya. Kolya says to Alyosha: ""I confess, I cheated here, I pretended to be more indignant than maybe I really was. . . . Secretly-I just meant to give him the silent treatment .far a few days, and then, seeing his repentance, to oEer hirn my hand again." Howver, Ilwsha has already repented-not only in his heart but to his mentor Kolya. It is not surprising then that he should rebel against this gratuitous external punishment imposed by. Kolya, which chafes his heart, Ko1y.a" pmitive act not only fails ta discern Ilyusha" heart; it reveals Kolyds perverse desire to play God in a grotesquely abusiw parody of ""binding and loosing," Instead of repenting of his

excess when Ilpsha rebels, however, Kolya seeks to break his ""free little spirit" by ""sowing complete contempt for hirn, turning away whenever I met him, or smiEng ironicaDyW"(535). At the same time, Ilyusha's f&her is publicly humiliated in the town tavern by Mitya, after which the schoolboys mercilessly tease the now unprotected Ilpsha-ccasioning the violent a ~ a c on k Kolya by Ilpsha f sticking him with a penhife) and the stone-throwing incident during which Myasha first becomes involved with the chadren and with the Sne@ryov family. Ml this is enough to make sicHy Ilpsha deathly fi,but even then Kolya is unwilling to reconcile with hirn, for his own egatistical "qecial reasons." KolyaJs ordering authority. is detached from love and affection, rooted in a self-glorrfylng, gadlike protection that tries to mold others in his superior image for their o m good, which he alone can judge. Ilyusha" rebellion against this order is rooted in a higher conscience, which he will not renounce-not even to gain reacmptance into the good graces sf the acclaimed Kolya-and also in the name sf his publidy humiliated but lawing and aEectionate father, to whom he is passionately and IoyaUy devoted. Ilvsha, however, is dyng, and he is also suffering from a guilty conscience for the mean trick he and Smerdyakov played on the dog. As Alpsha s o r r o h l l y reports to Kalya, "Would you beEeve that three times, since [ I b s h a ] gat sick, I%e heard him say in tears to his fafier: 'I" sick because f killed Zhuc&a, papa, God he wan? give up the idea!" "(536).Ayosha has quiis punishing me for it'-and etXy and uaostentatiously brought the other boys together with Ilpsha in reconciliation, so as ta ease the boy" ssufering. In contrast, Kolya, who has actually managed to find Zhuchkit, keeps this "resurrecting" news from Xlyusha, in order to plrepare a show: For several weeks Kolya secretly trains the dog (which he renames Perezvon) in order to pull off a "real stunt,">a theatrical pedormance in which the dead Zhucka (trained by Kelp to piay dead) will be miraculously raised back to life. During this time Kolya has also avoided the gathering of boys, m e n he finaUy goes to give his perforwhich he considers 'L~entimentali~ing:' mance, he makes it clear to his sidekick Smurov that ""Im going on my own, because such is my will, while p u were dragged there by Alexei bramazov, so therds a diEerence" "(526). Smurov denies this. Alpsha's reconciling a d has been done in such a way that the boys have experienced it as their own, as the narrator makes dear: His whole art in, this case lay in geaing &ern together one by one, tvi&out "sentimental slop:" but as if quite unintmtiomally and inadvertently. h d this brought enormous relief to flyusha in his suffclrlng. Seeing an a h o s t tender friendship and concern for him in all these boys, his former enemies, he was very touched, Only Krasotkin was missing, and this lay as a terrible burden on. his heart, (539)

Alyosha has also sought indirectly (through Smurov) to encourage Kolya to come, but at no point does fie impose himseK on Kolya. It is clear that this sense of freedom intrigues Kolya-fiat, and the attraaive stories fie has heard about Alyosha from the other boys, &ough he always displays an air of ""sorxlhl indifference" and critical dis~nce-and so he very much wants to make Ayoshak acquaintance. Findlly-he is ready ta make his dramatic appearance, The contrast bemeezr the authoriq of Kolya and that of Alyosha is starkly depicted in this gathering at the bedside of the dying Ilyusha, and again the seMhg is @yena political descripdon. As Roberr Belknap nicely shows, KoXya's poses imitate the prescribed attitudes and ideas of nineteenth-century Russian radicalism,68 many of which fie has learned from his ""rmarhble" teacher, RaEtin. ""I am a socialist, Smurov: Kolya pronounces sententiously: "'And what is a socialist?hsked Smurov, 31~'s when everyone is equal, everpne has property in cornman, there are no marriages, and each one has whatever religion and laws he likes, and all the rest. You're not grown up enough for that yet, you're too young'" (527).

And yet, having just admonished Smurov never to stoop to lying-"not even for a good =use" "(525), as when Smurov suggests that he pass off Pere~vonas Zhucua in order to comfort flpsha-Kolya proceeds to lie brazenly to a peasant they encounter about the practice of being whipped at school: ""Xike t&ng with the people, and am always glad to do them justice.'' "Vd'hy did you lie al->outthem whipping us at school?" asked Smurox "But X hacl to comfort him." "How so?" "You h o w Smurav, f don't like it when: people keep a s h g questions, d e n they don't understand the first time. . . . A peasant" notion is that schaolbays are whipped a d ought to be whipped what kind of schoolboy is he if he isn't whipped"? h d if I were suddenly to ten him that they don" whip us in school, it would upset him. h y a y , you don't understand these things. One has to h o w how to t& with the peopIe" fi(528),69

Kolya, by virtue of his superior Xcnodedge and special insight, is clearly not under the same moral obligations he imposes on his followers, He exercises the prerogat;ive of the "noble lie" ewa though he requires the absolute honesty and accountabijity of his followers. The rhetoric of equdity and "the people" masks the profound vanity that underlies Kolyaysdictatorial rule. Alyosha's responses to Kolya stand in sharp contrast to Kolyaysarrogant posturing and intellectual bullying, W e n Kolya and Smurov arrive at the Snegiryov house, Kolya sends Smurav in to call Ayosha ta meet him outside in the kezing

cold, Myasha, who already has reason to be angry and offended by Kolya's cruel behavior, rushes out to meet him with genuine affection, holding out his hand and sa*g, ""Here you are at last, we%e been waiting for p u so!" "1533). The eagerness of each to make the acquainQnce of the other is rminiscent of the earlier meeting b e ~ e e nIvan and Alpsha, But Alyosha has clearly changed since that conversation in the tavern-not only in dress (he has changed his cassock for secular clothes) but in manner. No longer timid or tentative, he has begun his monastic sojourn in the world as a "steadfast fighter" "(36-or, to use Serkegaard" f i ~ i n gterminobw, a "kni@t of faith,"70 The elder, in addressing that ""Idy of little faith;""Madame Kho&lakov (who at this point in the navel has lost even what little fai& she hadTI), had recommended "the l&or and perseverance" of active love as a cure for lack of faith. Such love, if it is to be real and not a mere dream or passing fantasy about "mankind in general: atails a death to the immediacy of love's reward, to the impatient desire to see love temporalllyvindicated. It enbils a +ing to the finite self and its claims in order ta be reborn into the spiritual causality of divine immortalir-y;in which the communi;eyof love is built up thmugh humble servanthood. As Kierkegaard points out, howevex; what distineishes the knight of faith from the (Platonic) "bight of infinite rreignation;""who also dies to the temporal vindiation of love by dwelling in the higher sufficiencry of the love of the eternal, is the hightysfai& that even as he gives up the worldly objects of his low through self-relinquishmm, he will get them back again by divine gift. That is, the objects of ear&ly love are rdinquished and yet continue ta be fully loved and jo*lly embraced and cared Esr-without ironic detachment or resigned sorrow-in the lived hope that all loving wrldly relations will be consummated (or "resurrectedm")n the basis of mysterious, divine possibility Such a faith is, humanly speaking, absurd, since it gives itself completely to an outcome that a n n o t be calculated on the basis of immanent physical, psychological, or sociohistarical causa2ity. Calculation of this End is impossibk, not only because there are too many finite factors and variables but more importantly beause faies love participates in the eternal agency of God, who is also an actor in the worldly drama, FaitWs love is &us, as Ki13rkegaardt"s medibtion on Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac shows, an ortdeal of love that requires that one abandon all possessive or proprietary claims on the objects of love (whether that be son or elder, lover or friend), at the same time being fully open to receiving and fully enjoying the return of the loved one as God"s gift. Alyosha has learned from love's oddeal, relinquishing his egoistic hold upon and proprietary hopes for elder Zosimds ear&ly vindia~on,only tta see a transfigured (""miracu1aus"")indicati;on in the heart-sha~ngbut oh-so-earthly encounter with Grushenka. He expresses a selfless yet completely engaged and earthly love for Lise (to whom he is informally ktrothed), which enables him to

relate to her with complete, caring andor despite her destructive erotic games and sadomasochistic fantasies. It also enables him to break the cycle of erotic rivalry among the brothers-not only Grushenka's attempted seduction but also Lise's fiirtatious and misted relationship with Ivan. Instead of taking affense, Alyosha discerns the sickness that finds their mutually destruct& dalliance, and he seeks to address it therapmtically in each.72 This selfiess yet completely engaged love is given political expression in Aliyosha? rreponse to Kolya and the gang of boys. Nyosha makes no aMempt to control the free response of the schoolboys to Ilpsha, nor to make them feel a duw imposed by guilt, m e n Kolya finally. shows up on his own swaggering .t-grms,Alyosha makes no efhrt to deflate the pretension by showing up KolyaJs self-impoatant ideas (which he could essay do) or by lecturing him, He neither judges Kolya nor flatters him (as Snegiryov does) but rather treats him as an equal, listening ta his views and responding ta them in open, vulnerable honesty; Interestingly, it is precisely this nonjudgmental, atfedionate apmness that unsettles Kolya-he feels his vain posturing to be judged by it-and completely disarms him, In order to develop the contrast between the Christlike authoriq of the h i & t of faith Myosha and the Inquisitorial authority. of the despotic Kolya, we might examine the uses made by each of the death and resurrection symbolism that pemades the novel, Kolya's secret projea, his ""special reasons" h r avoiding the gathering af bays and for showing up unannounced, is to stage the glorious resurrection of the dog Zhuchkit, whose presumed death has weighed ss heavily. an the ctying Ilyusha7sconscience, Kolya's reason for saging the event has little ta do with eat~jixlgIlpsha" torment. Indeed, he not only intensifies Zlpshds suffering by keeping silent about the found dog for weks; but when he finally arrives, he torments Ilyusha with the question, "Do you remember Zhuchka, old man?" (5431, and mercgessly prolongs flpsha's agony before revealing the dog, in order more dramaticslfiy and impressively to show off his own glory in having brought the dog back to life, and thus to refieve the suffering to which. he has hideously contributed. Ilyusha" evil deed and sagering have become the "manure" .for Kolya's godl&e orchestration, played in praise of Kolya7sglory f compare Ivan's accusations against God, 244). Here is the answer to Ivan7squestion regarding what children have to do with it: There is solidarity not only in suffering but also in sin. Kolya's egoism prevents him from seeing the intense suffering he is =using flpsha. W e n he finally aUs in his dog and flpsha recognizes him as Zhuchka, Kolya reveals that he found him by. the marh described by Ilpsha during his confession to Kolya: "Hound him by those marks! 1 found him ri&t then, v e q quicHy)"f 544). 3%e other boys are dutihlly. impressed-""sava, Gasstkint" and

much applause. Kolya, however, has more to show-"what counts is how it bappened, not a n ~ h i n gelse!" "(54. He has taught the dog clever tricks, and a particularly amusing one is the way he ""pays dead;""with all four legs in the air. Ilpsha watches it all ""with the same suEering smile? and Alpsha alone realizes the "killing eEectmof the moment: "Xnd can it be, can it be that you rehsed to come all this time only in order to train, the dog!%lyosha =claimed with involuntary repmacb. That's precise@ the reason," Kolya shouted in the most naive way. 'lwanted to show him in aU, his glory!"' (545). KoIya follows up this glorious display with another s p b o l of the p o w r be wields-a little toy annon &at fires real shot, It is a gift for llpsha: "Youke already happy as it is, well, here" some more happiness for pu!"-Kolya is ecstatic. This display is foltowed by Kolya's rehearsal of the shared ""memories" of his deeds of power-the train, the goose, and the secret knowledge about "who flsunded Tray'" Aside h m the one involuntary reproach, Alpsha has rmained silent during Kolya7striumphal entry, and his silence "gradually began to rankle the vain boy" (550). He begins to worv that Alyosha despises hirn, and his pmnouncernents grow increasingjy outrageous and pretentious. Alpsha, howevem;rehses to publicly embarrass Kolya, simply questioning hirn on his view. It is during their private conversation outside flyushds room that dyosha at last punctures the pretension-not so much by his direct responses to Kolyaysideological posturing as by the manner of his engagement. Kolya begins the private conversation awkwardly; expressing his respect for the "rare persodyn Alyosha but at the same time dismissing his mystial monasticism as an illness that "the touch of reality." will cure, The illness, claims Kolya, is the bdief in God and the host of prejudices and forms of social oppression that go abng with traditional C61-rstian faith. He confesses (.Followinghis mentor Rakitin), "X" a socialist, Karamaztlv, X am an incorrigible socialist" ((554)-and "X have no prejudices'' "(555). Ayosha, however, does not enter into an ideologi~ldeba.t-gor impose his intellectual superiorivhe responds ""sofily, restrainedly; and quite naturally; as if he were tallring to someone of the same age or even older than himself,""and Kolya is struck by Alyosha" openness in leaving it ""precisely up to him, little Kolya, to resolve the question'"(554). This makes it possibk b r Kolya finally to confess at a deeper levek "Tell me, bramazov>do you despise me terribly?" (555), and then Kolya's admission: "X" insecure. Stupidly insecure, crudely insecure" "56). Alyosha, however, does not despise the boy but loves him and his "lovely nature,""though it has, he suggests, been perverted. The cure, as KoZya himself sees without having to be told, is penitence: ""Oh, how sorry f am and how I scold myself for not coming sooner!'' This penitential confession foltows a shift in the conversation from ideological mattas ta the unhappy Snegiryw family-not only the ctying Ilpsfia but also his

crippled sister Ninoc&a. Kolya says, "Hike that Ninochka. . . . I &ink she's terribly kind and pathetic,""and dyosha concurs: "Yes, yes! m e n p u Y xcome more often, you'll see what sort of being she is. It3 v e q good for you to get to know such beings, in order ta learn ta value maxly.other things besides, which you will learn precisely from knowing these beings. . . . That will remake you mare than anphing" (556). With this reference we are brought back ta the spiritual. source of Ayasha" autboriq: the cruciform wisdom and power of God displayed in foolishness, tveakness, and ZoMIXiness (I (CZorinthians 1:18-36), The power of this unveiling of divine glory a n n o t be discerned in the vain displays of human tvisdom, &e "debaters of this age? The authority of divine wisdom is not a matter of human cleverness, rhetorical sM1, or dialectical brilliance-or any other pounds for "human boasting," The a u t h a r i ~ of divine power and wisdom is embodied in humble servanthood, not magisterial splendor. AXpsha bears witness to this truth, not by trying to persuade Kolya through eloqumt rhetoric or dialectical arpment but by actions pointing to the embodiment of this power, which can only be spiritudly discerned. The requirement for such discernment is humble repentance, as Kolya fibinally sees: ""X was vanllry that kept me horn coming, egoistic vanity and base despotism, which I haven? been able to get rid of alI my life, though all my life I've been trying to break myself, I'm a scoundrel in many ways, Karamamv*I see it now!" 665136-557). Of course, to talk of curing oneseE of this illness is stiU to dwell within the proud isolation of the diivided self; and we see in Ivan where such efforts leadto ""brain fever: madness. The cure comes from beyond any human self, as the gift of God. This gift cannot be possess& as if it were just another human teaching or cure or power. And yet for the knight of faith it is embodied in human form and it is present in the shared "mind of Christ," which makes true discernment possible. In the act of confession to Alyosba, Kolya, has taken a decisive step out of the inclosing reserrlre of his vanity, and in this he finds a strange comfort, "You know, Karamamv*our talk is something like a declaration of love; a relation that binds brothers toge&er in the humble love of mutual confession. The shared mind of Christ is thus attached ta a stone of stumbling, a skandaton, which is also the foundation of ""the edificem-the crucifion of Christ, the slain Lamb. How this act ma;)r h u n d a new poj/itical community is expressed in Alyoshds first public speech, to the community of twelve boys surrounding ""Xpsha's stone" on the day of the funeral. Several interpreters73 have linked this refe~nceto the stone of Matthew 16:18, where Christ plays on Peter's name in ""faundingy'the church: ""And I tell you, p u are &tm, and on this rock [ p e t 4 f will build my church, and the powers of death shall not prevail against it." Interestingly>this is also &e setting in Matthew where the church is given "the keys of the Engdom of heaven," the power to bind and to loose. This power or autfr0ri.t-y

is related to the recognition of Jesusbessianic identity, which is also the basis of Jesus"1essing of Peter in Mat&ew 16:17: "Blessed are p u , Simon Bar-Iona! Far flesh and blood has not reveded this to you, but my Father who is in heaven." And yet Peter has not yet understood the revelation he has received-as the subsequent verses in Matthew l6 show. Jesus begins to show his disciples that the messianic path is one of sugering and death, and Peter resists this: "God forbid, ' then addsesses Peter in vel-y digerent Lord! This shall never happen to ~ O U . ~Jesus terms: ""Get behind me, Satan! You are a skavtdalorz to me; for you are not on the side of God, but of men" (1&22-23). The path of the Messiah. is the path of the cross; and if anyone wishes to share in this revealed form of the heavenly Father's rule and the communiq it founds, Christ svs, "let hirn deny hirnseE and take up his cross and follow me" "(16:24), The path of res~rative,suffering love enails the renunciation of the devil" illusory power of idolatry; rooted in vengeance and vioXence.T4 Only when JesusYdlowersare able .to appropriate this vision far themselves and in themselves-this internalintion of the power to h r g i v e c a n it become the basis for a different political pattern. Il~slha'sstone is herefore also a reference to the various "stone" images gahered togeher in I Peter 2:4-8: Gome to hirn, to that living stone, rejected by mm but in Goas si&t chosen and precious; and like living stones be yourselves built into a spiritual house, ta be a hoty pries&ood, to offer spirhal sacri6ces acapmable to God &rou@ Jesus Christ. For it stmds in scripture: ""Behold, X am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious, and ke who believes in h h wifX not be put to shzlme;""s To you zherefore who believe, he h precious, but far those who do not believe, "The very &onewhich the builders rejected has become the head of the corner;'%axzd "a s2;oae &at wiU m&e men smmbZe, a rock that will make thern faU"77; for they smrnMe because they disobey the word,

Ilpshds death is the unjustified suffering of a child, to which suffering the gatherd boys have all contributed, and Alyosha in his word a s h that all of thern remember it: "Let us always remember how we buried the poor boy, whom we threw stones at-remember, there by the little bridge?-and whom afiemards we all came to love so mucV (774). Their newfound brotherhood has a new foundation: forgiveness. In the case of Ilyusha, of course, the victim is not "innocent"-he too threw stones, stack Kolya with a penknife, bit Ayasha's finger to the bone. And yet his life bears witness to the reconciting power of forgiveness, in a harmony that does not, however, forget or annul the sugering but that transfigures it beyond the violent counterclaims of victim and offender, To those trapped wihin the framework of retributive justice, such a remembered witness

is a scandal, for it can only continue to point offensively to the cycle of unwarranted violence of which it is a part. Far Aiyosha and the boys, however, it is not a sandal but a spiritual sanctuary, an edifice founded on the living stone, who is no victim but rather the conqueror and cornerstone of the heavenly city; which is present also an the earth in the lives af those who remernkr. Let us consider this more carrehlly. Alyosha is prompted ta give his speech on memory and on the educative power of sacred memories that the elder calls "seeds" of the word of God (290f.1, because his soul has been shaken by a memory (774). His soul-shaking memory is triggered by Xlpsha's stone, as Alyosha recollects the "whole picture" "of what Snegiryov has told him there (book 4, chapter 7)-Snegivovk own memory of the suffering, loving exchange b e ~ e e n himself and his son at the stone. This incident occurs at the end of b o k 4, entitled ""Strains" or N a d r p (sometimes translated "Laceratians""),78 The various forms of vzadrp encountered in book 4 and &roughout the novel share a cornman root-self-isolating pride, and as Robert Ifelknag points out, a misted response to offered gifts or ofiFered love; the laceratling inability to enter into the vulaerabililiv of humble love. Xn effect, the farms of n a d v are really forms of despair or offense7' experienced by those who are locked in the brmenting retributive cycle of pain and revenge, who are despairing of forgiveness and thus also unwilling either to repent or to forgve, Perhaps the most heartrending nadrylr is that experienced by the child flpsha in response ta the public humiliation af his father at Dmitrik hand, As Drnitri is dragging Snegiryov around the town square by his "whiskbraom'%eard, Ilpsha and the schoolbays are just getting out of school. Snegisyov tells Alyosha of his son's distress: "Wen he saw me in, such a &ate, sir, he rushed up to me: 'Papa,' he cried, "papa! We cau&t hold of me, hugg;ed m,tried t o pull me away, c q h g to my offender: 'Let go, Iet go, i23S my papa, my papa, fargive hM-that was what he cried: T0rgi.c.e h h ! " h d he took hold of him, to% with his little hmds, and kissed his hand, that very hand, sir . . . T remember his face at that moment, X have not forgo.t.een it, sir, and I wifX not forget it . . . !" (204)

Dmitri pays no attention to the boy's plea, but challenges the humiliated, impoverished father of three to a duel. (Ilyusha has two sisters-one a crippled hunchback, and the other a "too-smart" "student now helping out at home-and a crippled, deranged mother), Such. ""public honor" is well beyond the former captain" means-for his fanniffs s&e he cannot alff'ord to be killed or maimed in a duel. This ""getnealogicalfamily picture,""Snegiryov fears, has imprinted itself in the memory of 1lyusha's soul-his father will be despised also as a coward.

flwsha suffers, for despite the fact that his father is publicly humiliated and a laughingstock, an abject failure, Ilpsha b o w s him to be a loving, compassionate, and responsible papa. Not only do Ilpsha" pleas for mercy go unheeded, but his own hanorable and loving deed becomes the occasion for merciless teasing by the schoolboys: "Wiskbroom: they shouted at hims "our father was dragged out of the tavern by his whiskbroom, and you ran along asking for forgiveness"" (206). Just as he was publicly punished and isolated by E=olya for his personal penitential confession of the pin-and-blred prank, so he is publicly humiliated for nobly standing up for his father. The boy a n n o t face this crushing truth, and he comes down with the fever that eventuafiy kills him. iMore intense than the fever, however, is the desire for revenge that grows in the offended child. He dreams of cfrallenging Dmitri to a duel himself, with a sword: "Papa . . .don" make peace with him. . . .I'll throw him down when I'm big, I'll knock the sword out of his hand with my sward, IYl rush at him, throw him d w n , hold my sword over him and say: 3 could kill you now, but X forgive you, so there!"' ((207).Snegiryw suffers with his son's suffering, fear;ing the desmctiw bitterness growing in young Ilyusha's heart. He tries to comfort the boy, and at the stone Xlyusha finally breaks down in @greatp i e r and they sit there, holding each other, weeping, expressing their love. Yet that is not the end of the story. flpshds story is finally one of making peace through the forgiveness of sins-a lived experience ordered by the consciousness that "all are witty for all" and "all are responsible for all? As Alyasha sugests at the stone, this is indeed to be educated by a sacred memory, a truth "not of this world" and not conceived in any human heart, Xt is a truth revealed in the slain Lamb who "draws aZZ"through the humiliation and offense of the cross, to a mmmuniq of life and light that lives in brotherhood, beyond the isolation of offense. Ilyxdsha's suffering brings the children together as penitents and peaamakers who are liberated from self-assertion to declare their love one for another in word and in deed. This s t o v of suffering becomes for them, like the story of Jab for the elder, a precious memory that enables the soul to ""seek out what is precious" "(29, and to praaice the discernment of a conscience that is not divided by the judgnrren~lknowledge of good and evil but that is pmitential and is united to the reanciling communiv of divine love, The elder was &out the same age as Ilpsha when he ""cnsciously received the first seed of the word of God" in his soul, in the story of Job and of the inwardness built up in the experience of suffering and spiritual trial endured by this servant of God: h t what is great here is this x r y mysteq-that the passing eartMy image and eternal tmth here touched each other. In the face of eaaHy truth (pratrd~],80the enacting of eternal tmth is a~omplished,Were the Creator, as in the first clays of cre-

ation, crowning each day with praise: That which I have created is good,"looks at Jab and again praises his creation,h d Jab,praising God, does not only seme him, but will also seme his whole creation, from generation to generation and unto a= of ages, (292)

The Epilogue of The Brotbzers. Karamm~ltis thus an icon of the communiq or gotis ordered by the memory of Christ as the slain L a m b a n earafy mmmuniz^y that enacts the eternal truth that the slain h m b is indeed wor&y to rule. His rule is by the sword of the word that pierces the heart and evokes either ogense or faith. The poEtics of Chistian faith, however, is not just inner or private. All palitics is tied to consciousness; the real quesrion is which form of consciousness is embodied in the world. Tpes of communit-y or political order, as Plato recognized long ago, are types of (shared) soul. The politics of Ivan and the Grmd Inquisitor are rooted in the divided consciousness that seeks retributive justice in order to alleviate the destructive consequences h r fallen humanity.of its separation from God. This consciousness possesses a measure of truth: In a fallen world, people do act in a vicious cycle of self-assertion offense, violation, retribution, claim, and counterclaim. The earthly dty is built by the pmgeny of Cain, where the suaering of violence pro1iferait.e~. The stone that bruises flpsha "in the chest, over the heart" "(20 plays its role. in the illness that leads to his death. But it is clear in his case (as in the a s e of Ivads ""brain fever") that the physical symg.toms are also closely linkd to spiritual factors, 324s stone represents the stone of stumbling-&e vicious and merciless treatment of others (and especia1Xy of children-see Matthew 18"")~ those who embody the consciousness of Cain in the world, those who kill their brothers out of envy and resenthi, rivalrous angex; or out of disordered, fallen, sinful desire. Such &&ionsare truly stones of stumbling, temptations to sin and to take offense-woe to the one who is responsible for such a stumbling block (Matthew 18:7). And yet, as Klierkegaard points out, the possible skandabn or offense of Chrilitianiv lies in the paradox that the prescribed cure seems infinitely worse than the sicbess.82 For the Christian consciousness, everphing turns on how one responds to life-destroying deeds of offense. Christ" response in Matthew 18, which launches the extensive discussion of skandafa, is in answer to the discipies"uestion, "M%o is greatest in the kngdom of heaven?" He points to a ch2d with the comment: "Truly, I tell you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kixrlfdom of heaven, Moever becomes humble like this child iis the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" "(18:34). Christ" appeal to humility is also at the center of Dostoevsky" poetic and prophetic politics, which oEends political theorists such as Gradovs it ogmds Ivan, the Grand Inquisitor, and Hannah Arexzdt. Greatness is not hund

in a name or family genedogy or reputation that dorifies itself"Rather it is found in the humble love that buads up the communiq of servants in the world, a love that must pass &rough the forgveness of sins, The divine drawing to which Jesus refers in John 12331-32, by which the heavaly Father's name is glorified, and by which the "ruler (archon) of this world (kosmos)" is o-vercome, is tied to the power of the cross. The work of divine drawing, which has not ceased since the c r u c i ~ o nconverges , (says Gerkegaard) on a single point: "the consciousness of sin; through that goes the way along which [Christ] draw a person, the penitent, to himselff"8Vhisis the fully voluntary, courageous path that actiwly embodies the restorative power of humble, forgiving love to reverse violence and to end victimization, Alw in Ma~hew18, Jesus clarifies the real political meaning of the powr of the keys so recendy given to Pems that "hunds" the church-the practice of binding and loosing ( 18:X 5-28). The founding authority of the church is not tied to papal splendor and oEcial duties but ra.t.;fierto the personal, embodied practice of restorative justice wherever two or three (or ten or r-tvelve) are gathered. Not surprisindy, the Petros who is still struggling to understand what exactly was revealed to him and then given to him as a great authority-against the very "pwers of deatfr""(or ""gates of HadesW")comes to Jesus with a question: "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" "(18:21), Jesusbresponse ('"seventy-seven timesD")oes beyond the sevenfold vengeance of Cain to address the seventy-sevenhld vengeance of Lamech (Cai_n%great-great-great grandson) in his boasting song of violence sung to his wives.84 The power of Go&s rule counters violence with self-denying forgiveness, Jesus' teaching and embodiment of forgiveness are not an abstract doctrine and a unique, perhaps praiseworthy, but never-to-be repeated Ebrensic ad. His scandalous practice of forgiving sins exemplifies a way of life that is to be imitated and a consciousness or "mind" that is to be cultiva.t-gdin and by the church, as the eartHy enactment of eternd truth, Those aaached politically to the body of Christ are therefore participants in a drama that is both human and divine, earthly and heavenly; bodiXy and spiritual, individual and socid. This drama is a source of possible oEense in its prophetic witness to the God-man who remains the slain Lamb: Xt is witness to a truth that, even as it is publicly enacted on the earth, cannot be communicated directly (not even in miracles). It can be seen only by the free and obedient decision of the heart; and it will continue to cause scandal and offense to those stuck in scmdal, who cannot and wilX not believe that Jesus reveals the authoriv of divine rule and that the community he founds can eEectively counter Cain" killing of his brother (much less the violence of Gain" sans of later generations) through the embodied practice of restoratiw justiw. Yet Dostoevsb ends his novel in a celebration of the redism of this very

faith: that the Spirit of God does indeed move over the earthy forces of Karamazovian baseness, raising the erotic love of life, and an worldly loves, ta suffering, celebratov completion in the "all in d.''

Notes 1. For the initial reference in the h s & n speech, see Fyodor Dostoevsb, A WriterWiary, trans. fCenneth h n t z (Evmstoa, XU.: Nor~westernUniversiq Press, E994), vol. 2, p, 1284; for Dostoevsky's quotation of and response to Gradovsky's article, see ibid,, pp. 129G1328 (especially pp, 1307, 13236). In The Brothers Karamamv the "eternal questions" conern the relationship of truth and politics, antered around the question of the existence of God and i ofiaiity. If there is no God and no rtalit-y, then socialism becomes the logicra3i alternative, answering the =me cguestiom the "other end"" (Fyodor Dostoevsky The [New York Vintage, out upon. flte momst viction that immortality and God exist, he naturally said at once to h b e l f i 'I want to five for immortdiq, and I reject any halhay cornpromis the same way, if he had decided that hmortality and God do not exist, he wouf diately have joined the atheists and socialists (for sociaEsm is not only the Xabor n or the question of the soalled fourth esbte, but first of all the question of atheism, the question of the modern embodiment of atheism, the question of the Tower of Babe1 built p~ciselywi&out God, not to go from earth to heaven but to bring heaven down to earth)" (Ibid., p. 25). With regard to the teaching on humibty, see the elder's discussion oa "Masters and Semants" and "whe&er it is posible for &ern to became brothers in spirit" ("T* and Homilies:" section f). Such a social order, claims the elder, cannot be derived from scientific reason (which is oriented to bodif_yneeds and external relations). It cm onjiy be found in the image of God as reveded by Christ, and this requires bumiliq. Thus Russia's social slvation must come from flte Ghristim piety of the people, ""for Russia is great in her "'Equality is only in mads spiritual dipity, . , . M e r e there are brothers, there will be brorherhood; but befare brothmhood they wiU never share m o n g themseives. Let us preseme the image of Christ, that it may shine forth like a precious diamond to the whole azion" is realized ody in w r l d .. .So be it, so be it!" (Ibid., p. 316). "Great h u m n mutual semmfltoad, according to the elder, 2. Dogoevsky, A W t e r ' s Diary, vol. 2, p. 1307; cf. the discussion-wirh conclusions that di&r greazlly &om the ones arrivtd at her-by S q n Linner, Staret5 Zosima in The Brothers Karamdzov: A S%+ in the Miml?sis ofVir&e ( S t o c h o h dmqvist and Wbell, 1975),chapter 8. 3. Dostomsk?A WriterWiary, vol. 2, pp, 13f 6-13 17. 1.Ibid., p. 1319. 5, See Eric Wegelin, 172e NW Science ofP0tiz-i~~ (Chimp: Universit-y of Chicago Press, 19521, p. 17; and the critical response developed by Bmce Ward in D~stclyevskyXCrilr'que ofthe Wesl: The @estfox lZze Ear&@Pardise (Waterloo, ant.: Wil.frid Lmrier Universiq Press, E986), chapter S. 6, See John Meyendo~E~ Byzanhe Theofol=y:Hisarical Trends alzd Doctrinal Themes (New York: Fordham Universiv Press, 1974),pp. 6,73,213f.

7, See Vigen Guroian, Inc~rnakeLove: Essays in Orhodon: El-hics (Notre Dame, Tnd,: Notre Dame Universiv Press, f 9871, part 3; and Alexander S c b e m n n , Church, World? Mission (Cres~ood, PJ,Y;: St. Vladhirk seminary Press, 19";79). 8, Diane Oenning Thompson provides extensive documentation and illuminating analysis of Ivan's sobsessive negations, distortions and corruptions of the Gospels" (Thompson, The Brothers Karamazm and the Poe~csofn/femory [Gmbridge: Cambridge University Press, 29911, p. 249; cf. pp, 179f,280f,), though she misses this exampIe. Perhaps the most signiificmt distortion in. Ivan's romanticized portrait of Jesus is that he is diately recognized by weryone, h what Ivan considers ""one of the best pasages in the poem, T mean, why it is aacGy that they recognize him, People are drawn to him by an inGncible force. . , .We passes saently among them with a quiet smile of infinite compassion, The sun of love shines in his hart, rays of Light, EnIi&tement, and Power stream from his eyesn[41],This is a fantastic, senthmtal, and idolatrous picture that blatantly disregards the Mew Teslament portra2 of the necessary hiddemess of Jesus9rue identity. As Eerkegaard says: "Spirit is the denial of direct immediacy, If Christ is true God, then he also must be unrecognizable, attired in uunrecognizability, tvhich is the denial of all strai&tfowardness. Direct recognizability is specifically chracterltic of the idol, But this is what people make Christ hto, and this is supposed to be earnestness, They take the direct statement and fantastically form a character correspondirre; to it (preferably sentimental, with the gentle look, the Eriendly eye, or wh;atmer else such a foolish pastor c m hit upon), and then it is direct& altogether certain that Christ is God" fScaren Kierkegaard, Pr~cdceitt Chrisdani@ eds, and trans. H~wardHong and Mna H o e [Prineton: Princeton University Press, 19911, p, 236). Of course, Ivan is not a p&or, but he knows how to manipulate senthental pastoral images for his own purposes. 9, Helen. CmrziB de AXvara m&es the followkg as&* obsenration about this scene: ""Because Ivan's Christ spe&s only once in his prose poem and in conjunction with his thmtrical miracle, Ivaaz eEectively places Christ" iixnpor~nce. . .in, his power to hl6U the earthly wan& of men" (de Alvarez, ""The Aupstinian Bask of Dostoevsws 232e Brolfzers Bramaov:" unpublished disseflation, hiversity of Dallas, f 927, p, 1401,This semes as m eEec.tive rhetoricd trick, distorting the picture of Christ by establishing supehcial similarities b e ~ e e nmiracle stories and their meanings. f 0. In Mark"$gospd, the messiaxlic secret is tied to the mystery of the khgdom of God (see fael Marcus, The M y s t q of tke Kingdom of God [Atlamtsi: f cholars Press, 19861; and Chapter I in, the prexnt volume). 11. Divine merq is also represented by the ""sea of glass" (Revelation 4 6 ) , the p r h o r dial deep wavered by God in, the creation myth, bringing order out of chaos arad light out of darbess, In Revelation X3:l the beast arises out of it (cf. l5:2-3, where the sea is connected with a new exodus in which the liberated ones shg the song of Moses and the song of the t m b , the song acclaiming diGne justia, which Ivan finds so loa&some); and in Revelation 21:1, in the final revefation of the new heaven and new earth "the sea was no mores-it has been ulthately ddeated and thus ajlovus the heaven2y Jerusalem to come down out of heaven from God, symbolizing the harmonious and fulfilling dwdling of God with h u m d a d . 12. G. B. Caird, The Revelation of St. John ltze Dhine (New York: Harper and Row3 19661, pp. 291-292. 13, This is the heart of what is at st&e in "The Grand bquisitof: "NoPkting has ever been more insugerable for man and for human society than freedom!"[$4]; "There is

nothing more seductive for man than the freedom of his conscience, but &ere is nothing more tormenting either. . , . Instead of t&ng over men's freedom, you incresed it and forever burdened the kngdom of the human soul with its torments, . . .Thus you yourself laid the foundation for the destmction of your own kingdomm"Wli"], The references to the centraEty of this human problem are abundant, not only in the poem but throughout the novel. 24. This model of suffering marqrdom h e ~ e n d e din Rwelation6:9E to the souh of slaugEttered saints under the heavenly altar, whose lives are oEered as atoning sacrifices, grounded in the overcoming blood of the Lamb f cf. 12:1 l), Farrer states: "The blood of Chrig both atones and cries, uttering better words than Abel"s: here &e bXaod of the martyrs cries, as Enoch silys of Abel, for the extirpation of the raw of Gain: it also atones for saints on the altar of sacrifice" (Austin Farrer, A Rebz"7f-hoflmages: The Making ofS1;Joh~"s Apocralese !Boston: Beacon Press, 19491, p, 2 20). The cry for retributive justice here requires furher waiting for the completion of divixle ~lvationthrough the patient aercise of suffering Iove, which will be publicly vindicated only at the end, 25. As Robert Belknap accurately notes, Father Bsinna's "mswer" to the Graxzd Inquisitor is rooted ha counter-ontolou no less cosmic &an that of the materialists: ""Xean the b a r h e of universal causal conrxections, the belief that aU things in the wrXd are h k r conneced, &at no event oKurs wihout its causes and its eEec% in &is worldl8, that if we knew enough we would see the world as a seamless web of causes and eEects" "elknap, The Genesis of lliCle Brothers &ramczzov: The Aesthelrz"cs,IdeofA~? and Psycholog 0fMaking a Text [Evanston, Ifl,: Northwestern University Press, 19901, p, 140). One is an e~ernatl bodily account of causality (the seeing of which is a maner of "nemes in the b r a s ) , the other a spiritualilaount seen by "keeping company" with the h a g e of Christ in the heart. 26. We might note here that &is anaropolog also underlies Bo&owsws ar.tistic realism: umer realism to find the man ivt man,, . .They call me a psycfiobgis~this is not m e , f m merely a realist in the higher sense, that is, X portray all the dqths ofthe human sour" f Dctstoe~shin his notebook, as quoted in Mihail B a t i n , Problems ofl)ostoevsky"s Poefics, ed, and trans. Caryl Emerson Elvfhneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 298121, p. 60). Later in the ctnzlptec we wifX contrast Dostoevsws dialogicd and paaicipatory visualization of the inner life of his characterswith the nondiratogical,clinial, and reified juridical model of courtroom gsycholoa (which is also dramatized in book 12 of The Brothers Karamazov as "a stick with two ends"). 27. The highly symboZic coronation of Charlemagne by Pope Leo XI1 at St. Peter's on Christmas Day A.D. 800 is alluded to in the foFoUowing w r d s of the Inquisitor: ""Listen, then: we are not with you, but with him, that h our secret! For a long t h e now+ight enturies already-we have not been with you but with him, Exacey eight centuries ago we took ~ o him m what you so indignantly rejected, that last gift he oEered you when he showed you all &e Engdams of the earthn1491. 18, It bears notie that in Revehtion even John the author, at the c l h a of the vision exposixlg the worfd"s idolatry, must two times be warned against false worship and eiireaed to worship only God (Revelation 2 9:lO and 22:8-9). 29, See the good discussion of this in Caird, Rewla~on,pp, 90E, 293f.; Farrer, Rebirth af Images, pp. 33f., 2965, 20, See Paul's slogan panta mar' exstr'n ( X Caxinthians 6:12; 10:23), which more Ziterally translated means "all Pltings are in my power." fvan omits Paul's consist.ent qualification of the slogm: "but not all thhgs are hdpfcll"; "'but I will not be enslaved by anphing"; "'but

not all fltings build up:' The focus of Ereedom in PauI"s vision is not the individual power to act but the discernmel~tof love, unbound by eaernal rules and domina1 formulas, for the building up of the communiq of love and the good of one's sisters and brothers. This is the very meaning of the "law of Christ" that liberates the self &om isolating partialip for pasticipation in the h h e s s of dkine agape (see the four pantas of f Gorhtkans f H ) . 21, The institution of dders is given the following description: " m a t , then, is an dder? helder is one who takes your soul, your will into his soul and into his will. Having chosen an elder, you renounce your will and give it to him under total obedience and with total self-renunciation. A man who doom himself to this trial, this terrible school of life, does so vo1nxztaril.y;in flte hope that after the long trial he will achieve ~d~conquest, sdfmastery to such a degree that he will, finally, throu& a whole life's obedience, aaain ta from himself-and avoid the lot of those who live their elves in themselves, This invention-that is, the institution of elder-is not a theoredcd one, but grew in, the East out of a practice that in, our t h e is already more than a thousmd years old"" (27-28). This raises*in a very diBerent context from the poem of the Grand Inquisitor, the central question of freedom (consciene] and authoritry, Obedience to the elder's spirimal authority placgs tremendous reqonsibility and power in the hands of the elder, the purpose of which is not to lessen the burden of freedom on the disciple but to bu2d it up &rough strenuous discipline, This is a filial model of authoriky and education based on Jesus' relation to his disciples in the New Testament, and it is clearly a rriky instiwtion, since its integrity demmds that the whole of the character of both elder and disciple be oriented toward the mimes&of the humble love .incarnatedby Ckxriist. The dkcovery of oneself in freedom thus enaas the disciplined pursuit of complete sdflessness. 22. Richard Peace, Dostqevsky: An &aminatr"on of h e Major NoveIls (Cmbriee: Cambridge University Press, 19711, p, 276. Peace's analysis is rich, in interpretivt Iiteraxy insight, but he fails at crucial points to dkcem Dostoevsky's apocalptic grammar of spiritual causality,The agriculturd metaphors of seed and earth. that pemade the novel and are crucial to understanding its central transformations are considered "heretical ideas" by Peace, who argues that Zosiima weds Christian teachings to a more prominently pagan "cult of the ea~h"" (Dostoevsky; p, 2856). He sugesB that Zosha's deep b w to Dmitri (whose name link him to Demeter, and who will also be regenerated by a "cuIt of the earth"")confirms this, We have arwed in Chapter 3 that the direction of trmsformation is precisely the opposite: from pagan ferlility cult and nature romanticism toward an apocalyptic transformatian of all creation &rough the incarnate spiritual agency of Christ, This is not a movement that leaves material creation behind; to the contrary, the resurreaion of the body is central to the Christim moral vision ofrtze elder and of the novel as a whale, Only a gnostic, Mlesternized hterpretation of Christianiv could fail to see this. 23, According to Hietache, the history of human "mswerabili~"(Rranmortlicfzkeitf is tied to the human animal's evolutionary development of the faculty of memory-promises made for dculable aaion in the hmre, a mcms;try feature of ordered human unities of speech, The beginning of the imer life of moral consciousness in which inaincmall drives are m u n t e ~ dand contralXed, then, is dictated by sociali needs and h hprinted not biy love but by pain. The cruelest of these rituals of pain. are religious, codified in penal cust-om, But the social origin of the guilty comience is above all economic, as is evident in the German word SchuEd (see Friedrich Nietzsche, On the Genealogy ofMorats, trans. Waiter Kaufmann !Mew York: Vinhge, 1987; Random House, f 98q, part 21, This

connection b e ~ e e neconomic and religious lmguage in the retributive understanhg of conscience is also preselnt in Ivan's Iment, where suffering "buys harmony" and "buys truW at too great a price. Ivm adds to the mix: the l a n ~ a g of e "manure:" thus zmticipating not only Miebsche but Freud, Dostowsky oEers a fundamentally diff-erentaccount of the origins of moral memory, of conscience and responsibility. It originata in, the human soul's ordering relation to divine Iw. 24. This is also evident in, the malicious rumors about Zosima that quicMy circtrhte, beginning with the sppositiond naoks, u p n the premamre odsr of cormation emmating from the elder's corpse, The narrator attributes much of this to "envy of the dead mm's holiness'' md the spiritual auaority and inflaeacnr it generated f 331).The denunciations include charge of kresy, such as not accepting the material fire of hell (see the elder's spiritual treatment, 322f.); lack sf asiscetic rigor ("he was not strict in fasting, allowed himseE sweets, had cherry prefeme with his tea, and l&ed it very mucw); and from "the most ardent opponents of the ingitution of elders . . .and among these were some of the oldest and most stridy pious of the mods: the charge that ""h ahsed the sacrment of confasion" (333). Given the pemasive importance of dstential confession in, the novel as the embodiment cif spiritual humility2Dostoevsky is clearly sugesting that the elder (whose =ample hthis regard is dear) truly unders~ndsand exempli&esthe meaning of the sacrment. 25. Miusov, it should be noted, got himself aggoi~ltedas Miqa3sco-guardian when the young boy w s left virmdly abandoned by his dissolute father. But Miusov also abmdoned you% Mit-yawhen, having raurned to Paris for a lengthy stay, he got caught up in the 2848 rwolution (in which he "ahosl" took part "on the barricada: one of the deli&tful memories of his youth that "so stmck his imaghation that he was unable to farget it far the rest of his life"; IOf.), a d simply "forgot" the child. Miusov, the narrator teUs us, was ""enlightened, metropolitan, cosmopslitm, a lifelong European:" who "had relations with many of the most liberal people of his epoch, both in Russia and abroad; he h e w Proudhon and B&unin personally; and so he considered his lawsuit against the "clericals" his ""civic and enli&tened duty," The narrator makes it clear, therefore, that Miusov's iaerest in the monastery-visit w a mere curiosity; which he paraded as "good iintentions" partly to ensure himself a dignified, deferential reception, 25. See the helphl discussion of "bowledge of Go@ in C.H. Bodd, The Interpretadon ofthe Fourth Gospel (Cambridl~r;:Cambridge Universit-yPress, 19531, chapter 3, 27. Iwn assem: ""Imy opinion, Christ" low for people is h its b i n d a miracle impossible on earth. Tme, he was God, But we are not gods" (237). Here Ivan clearly dismbes the Orthodox mona&icteaching on them&$the posibility that the image of Christ is not an impossible otheworldly ideal but rather the ground for hum= deifiation and the existential mediation of the Kingdom of God in the world wen now (as in the elder" teaching that paradise is present here and now in life itself, a gift of the d-ivlne presence; 29&299>. 28, To which Father Iosef nicely replies, "l&, but we don't even have any mountah," In the ninekenth cenwry) ulmmonta-an&mrefers to Roman Catholic opposition to "the new liberd and anti-Christian movements of which the French Revolution of 1789 was the logical and most systematic expression:' See The Oxford Diclz"ona.ry of the Christian Church, 2d ed,, eds, F. L. Cross and E. A, tivinggon (Oxford: Qdord University Press, 1974), p, 1405, The stages of the "triumpkt""of ultrmontanism in that antury are identified as follows: 1 8 1 G r e ~ v aofl the Jesuit order loyal to the Pope alone; 186GPius U(:is-

sues his antiliberal Sytlclbus; 1S"i"-Vatim I declares papal infalljibifity on ex cathedra pronounements concerning faith and morals, It is clear, then, that Dostoevsky, like Miusov, rejects the ultrmontmist agenda, though for very diEerent reasons, Miusov represen& the aension of the French Revolution in ninekenth-anwry politia to which ultramontanism is the reaction, D o m w s b views both as corrupted forms of power politics, 29, R&tin, the liberal seminarian, does not buy this, a l l k g Ivan's theory "st-upid" and "qualid: "a tempting theory for scound~lis":"Mafind will find strengh in itself to live for virme, even without beliwing in the immortality of the soul! Find it in the love of liberty, equdiw, fraternity" "2)- OR the perspective of the novel, hawwer, Rakth is a conhsed Christim socidist without spiritual insight-veming becomes grist for his egoistic (and careerist) ideologial mill, 30, Dnnitri"~earlier response to Miusw's anecdote about Ivan's theory was immediate and intense: "Mow me , . . to be sure I%@heard correctly: "vildoi~lg [crime] should not only be pern;titted but even should be achowledged as the mo& necessaq and mo& intelligent solution for the situation of every godless persod!" (69) ""111 remember:" he says-a statement that o&ers besides Mitya wiU Iater recall, 31. The reference here is to Goethe's FE;GIU~~, Part XI, Act V, lines l l 89QEAXyosha is unce~ain,of the origirr of Ivanyssomwhat derislive appellation for &e elder ( " h ~ Seraphr icu-he got that name fmm somewhere-but where?"") but he aap.ts it as true: "Yes, yes, that%him, Pater Seraphicrrs, he will save me . . , from him, and forever!"p56j, In, Faznst the Pater Seraphicus inhabits the ""middle region" b e ~ e e nfhe upper (Pater Ecstaticulove's sowing, eternal. height: "mz"ger Wrannebrand, glghmdes Liebeband . . . schdumende G s m l u s t " ) and nether (Pater Profundu-love" creative, reading abyss) regions. He teaches the chorus of blessed boys the ways of the e a ~ by h t&ng &em into hirnsdf so they mi&t see &rough his eyes. The boys are overtvbelmed by the power and darhess of what they see and beg to be released, so the Pater Seraphicus Ieads them .to a higher region throufitbthe grow& made possible by God's strenghening presence, and finally a rrevelation of eterad love that opens out into blessedness {Seligkeil.),The name turns out to be prophetic, but not in the sense apprehended by the ""ye-crisis" ayasha, 32, The title itself, of course, is taken from the speech. of the defense attorney Petyukovich, that '"snrooth Petersburg swindler" (as Ivan calls him; 5931, in his charge to the jury to "bevvax of a judicial error!" (740). It is an ironic charge, given, the famous lawer's cyrsical tactics. 33. It is of course &e visiting mpert hired by Katerina from Moscow who, in, contrast to the more ""csmmomense" testimozly of the Wo local doctors, speah at ten# in technical terms about "manidknd "morbid fit of passion" and adduces as evidence for his "abnormal psychological andition""s&temen& and bebaviar Eully in keeping with M i ~ a ' s character*as is obvious to all who h o w him. 34. However, this is not (~lltirely clear, as the narrator hints that Xppolit is a vain, consumptive, and bitter man who ""hd always thwght hhself injured by someone, because his talents were not properly appreciated" (6581, and that his depiction of Ivan was prompted by an "indeliate feeling" at having been snubbed by I v m once or ttcriw in arpment (697). The desire for rwenge in the novel is never "purem-it is always to some extent rooted in egoism and vanit.y;despite the noble-sounding speeches trumpeting Iove for humanity or civic rekmpdon, This is of caurse in kepirag with the inner-outer spiritual causdity &at informs the novel,

35. See Victor Terras, A Karamczzov Cromtpanion: Cornmenary on the Genesis, Language, and SFyEe ofPlostoc?lvsky"sml (Madison: Universit-yof Wismndn Press, 1981),p, 412, Terras makes a good obsemation &out the two opposing Iavers: "Ironically2Xppdiit Kirillovich, who spends his egort in a misarriage of justice, is right about some hndamental issues (horn Dostoevsws v i v o i n t , that is), while Felyukovicb, whose philosophy is odious to Dostoevsky, is right about the facts of the me.""Or perhaps, is ri&t about some of the faas of the case, Both lavers lack the qualiq dkplayed in the elder Zosha's dkernment, which integrates the outer details and the inner rediv of a ""case" into a personal, living w h o l e n o t in order to "judge" but h order discerningly to serve the cornmon good of those involved, 36, The prosemtor cites the poor, sick Smerdydov as one such " v i d W of Ivm's ideology; and meaninghlly quotes Sxnerdykogs remark that lvm, of ail the b r m a z o v brothers, "most resembles Fyodor Pavlo~chin character" @m7). 37. Terras pain& out that "mysticism" and "chauvinism" were precisely the term used to characterize Bostoevsb by progressivist libierd critics (Terras, A Karamamv Cornpanion, p. I f 6). 38. Of such spiritual heights, c l a Ippolit, ~ neither Mitya b r m a z o v nor the majority of modern Russian young men are capable (716; cf. 694). 39. Indeed, as Terras comments, this last obsemation on the digerenice b e ~ e e npenitence and despair is profound: ""Serdyakov's suicide note ('I destroy my life of my own will and desire, not to blame anyone') contains a diabolic irony: by destroying himself, he assures Bmitrils con~ctionand deprives Ivan of a chance to relieve himelf of his guilt" (Terras, A Karamazov Companion, p, 42%. We might note here also Smerdy&o$s discussion of penitence and forgivenessearly on in the novel, in his disputation with Grigory (f27L,130L), 40. The power of binding and loosing is also claimed by the Grand Inquisitor as a "right"":'You promised, you eslablished with your word, you gave us the right to bind and loose, and surely you cannot even think of t ~ a &is g right away from us" 1431. This power is later parodied as a sumeillance technique in the fnquhitor's gmtesque use of atonement lanpage: "And they wifX have no secre%from us. We will allow or forbid them to live with their wives and mistresses, to have or not to have children-all dependkg on their obedie n c e a n d they will submit to us &adly and jofikly, The most tarrnenthg secrets of their conscience-all, all they win bring to us, and we will decide all thhgs" [5l], 11. The extended passage in, brtlafihew 28:15-20 details the procedure entailed in the practice, See the fine discussion by John Hovvard Yodel; Boa?y I)olitics; Fiw P r a c t h ofthe Chrzjdan Cornmunip Before the WatchingWorEa"(NasErville: Discipleship Resources, 19921, chapter I; idern, "Binding and Loosing? in The Royal Prz"esthooL1: Essqs &clesiolggicaE and Ecumenical, ed. Michael C a r ~ r i g h (Grand t Kapids, Mich.: William 13. Eerdmans, lW4), pp. 323-358. ents on this Russian form of swindling in connection with the " n w man" to whom, as a man-god tvho selfrconsciouslybkes the place of God and therefare of l a w - m ~ g"all , is permi~ted"": "It's all very nice; only if one wants to windle, why, I wader, shouId one also need the mnaion of truth? But such is the modern little Russim man: without such a smCfion, he doesn't even dare to swindle, so much does he love the trutv (649). Here the Devil gets carried away by his own eloquence. His speech reminds us of Nieasclne's assessment of ""wir Erkennenden" in On the Genealogy ofMorals (pt.3, seaion 241, who are still ""far from being flee spirits: fir they still have fai& itt the

truths" This too must be called into question in flte Xilberating process of Selbstagfiebung that will go beyond the moral law of justice toward the freedom of mercy and sdflegislation enjoyed by those with the courage of the will to power (Nietzsche, On rhe Cenealog ofZMoraS pt. 2, seaion 10; pt. 3, %ction 27). In the term of both Nietzsche and Iwnk devil, the bourgeois Petersburg lawer lack this courage, appealing to a sanction (Christian belief and Christian morality) in which he himelf does not believe, 43. Peace, Dostaevsky, p. 28 2. 44.See Dctstoevsb, A Wri~ex9Diczr;):December 1877, pp, 1221-1244. 45. Ibid., p, 1244, 46. See, for example, Dostoevsws reflections in A Wri&r"siary, October 1877,entitled "'Lies Are Indispensable for Truth, A Lie Times a Lie Equals Tmth. Is That True?" (pp. 1163-1 168); and his mensive discussian of the KorniXova case, in which trial his own publish& reReetions played a role (Demmber 1877, pp. 1221-2244). 47. Bruce Ward elaborata Bost-oevsws vievvs on the Europmn Ilberal-socialist tradition under Bostoevsws own rubric, the "Genwa" idea-that is, the traditions inspired by Rousseau and embodied in the sXogan of the French RevoZ~ion-liber$&, kgalitd8fiaternitk-and in its theoretical elaborations:"Broadly spe&ng, fltis would indude French liberalism, the French socialism which appeared at the =me time, and the German philosophical commentary on &ese movements. Mare specifically, Geneva' thinkers would include such figures as Rousseau, Saint-Just,Saint-Sirnon, Fourier, Kant, Hegd, Feuerbach, and Marx'"Ward, DostoyevsiFy's Cri~qereof lhe West, pp, 45-45). Waras book provides an aaount of Bostoevsky"s relation to modern politics a d pofiticalt phirosophy. 48, Hamah kendt, On Revolutz'on (New York: Penpin, E963), p. 75, 49, It is tempthg ta t&e a lengthy detour here comparhg Jean-jacwes Rousseau and the Graxzd Inquisitor, but tve wiH content ourselves with a few remarks: The hrmdamental human and social problem for Rousseau, as far the Xnquiisi-tor, is the problem of free&m-"Man was born free, and he is weryhere in chains" flean-Jacques Rousseau, The Social Contract, trans, M. Cranstan [NW York: Penpin, 19681, book 1, chpter 1). The only way to liberate human beings from destructive forms of social enslaveme-nt,which are always particular and arbitrary (including the vranny of the church in mal.t.ersof conscience) is to establish an enlightened social order as a "mcred ri@t:"t is to give one's particular freeeIam to the general will so as to overcome particular (and prejudicial) form of dependence, and thus to be "reborn" into a community, committed to a single body politic. As Rousseau puts it: "In order that the social pact shall not be an empw formula, it is tacitly implied in fltat commitment-which alone can give force to all others-&at d o w e r refuses to obey the general will shall be conslrained to da so by the whoZe body, which, means nothing other than that he shall be forced to be free; for this is &e condition which, by giving each citizen to the nation, secures him against all personal depmdence, itis flte condition which shapes both the desip and the worEng of the political machine" (bk. 1, chap. 7; cf. bk. 2, chap. 71, Such a rebirth lifts unhappy people from the animal "state of nature" and its physical, passionate dependencies h t o a ration4 civil liberty l h ited by the general will, Of course, the generd will (and its gifts of libeq, equdity before the law, and fraterniq of the whole) reqires an ordering power, a lawgiver, a "sovereign" who gives the body pXitic coherent movement and w2l by legislation (bk. 2, chap. 6). This act of "f~unding'be~ires divine intellivnce because it entails a transformationof human nature into a spirimd whole in which each cm do nothing mmpt through social cooperation. Hence the appeal to divine intervention in all acts of political founding, says

Rousseau: "But it is not for every m m to make the Go& spe&# . . . The lawgiver's great soul is the true mirade which must vindiiate his mission" "(bk. 2, chap. 72, Vhdimtion is confirmed by rhe extent of social harmony achieved that is, the extent to which rhe relations among members of the body are as limited as possible and rdations with the whole body as mensiw as possible ("horder that each citizen shall be at the =me t h e perfectly independent of all his feuow citizens and excessively dependent on the republic"; bk, 2, chap. 12). This carnot shply be mternal, mechanical justice-it requires the "heart.s of the citizens:" a common moraliq, and "above all, belief." Such common belief will eliminate disagreement, dissent, rebellion, and all other signs that the enslaving prejudiice of particular wifls is undermining the liberating dominana of the generaf. will (bk, 4, chap, 2 ) . This common belief, then, will entail a "civil religion" (bk. 4, chap. 8)-with which Rousseau ends ;The Social Contract, This civil religion wifl "correct" the work of Jesus,who "'came to establish a spiritud kingdom on earth; this h g d o m , by separating the theological system .from the political, meant that the gate ceased to be a unity, and it caused those intestine divisions which have never ceased to dismrb Christian peopbs? The conRict of jurisdictions hChristian:states has rendered harmonious political order imposible, since people have never h o w n whe&er to obey the civil rule or fbe priest. Religims conflict must be elidnated: "Evewing that destroys social uniq is woflhless; and all instimtions that set man at odds with himself are worthless," The Christiani~of h e Gospel, of course, is "altogether dBerent: emg\hasizing as it does the brotherhood of all-but it is private and its bonds of union orlzemorldly; indeed, ""aociev of true Chrisdans wuXd not be a society of men:"ere, of course>we have the agreement of Ivan, the Inquisitor, and dso, ironicalfy, Hamah Arendt-as we shall see, Bo&owsky's novel d s this assumption radicdy into question, m a t Rousseau proposes in place of Christianiq is a civil religion of ~Ieratian,gripped of dogma, in which the ""sntiments of sociability""and moral &ties are enshrined in. a purely civil and rational profession of faith. Noever does not believe them may be banished not for ixnpieq but "as an antisocial being, as one unable sidlerely to love law and justim. . . .If anyone, after having pubjicly achowledged these same dogmas, behaves as if he did not bdieve in &em, then let him be put to death, for he has cornmitted the greatest crime, that of lying before the faw*'Wthou@Rouseau is anti-Catholic and the Grmd Inquisitor represents a form of Catholicism, thBr political positions are similar in, many respea, 50. hen&, On Revolution, p, 85, 52. Rousseau, The Social Conem, bk, 2, chap. 7. 52. Arendt says (On Revotutk, pp. 86617): "h a rule, it is not compassion which sets out to change uuorldly conditions in order to ease human suffering, but if it does, it will shun the drawn-out wearisome processes of persuasion, negotiation, and compromise, which are the processes of law m d politics, and lend its voim to the sufiering itself, which must claim for swi&and direct aaisn, that is, for action with rhe means of violence.'" 53, Arendt, On RewZuh'oa p, 87, 54. Hannah Arendt, The Human Condition (Chicago: Un;iversity of Chicago Press, 19581, p. 50f. 55. Ibid., pp. 74-75, 56, Ibid., p. 53, 57. Ibid. k e n d t clahs that this terminology is uniquely Christian, and that the Greek term soma is never used politically outside of Christiani~y;The metqhor appears for the first t h e in Paul"s writings (I Corinthians f 2). Strangely, Arendt here overlooks the most

famous w r k of ancient politid philosophy, Plato's Repubtk. There Plato uses the language of body in a manner so similar to Paul's that one a n imagine Paul borrowing it from Plato: ""Then is that city best governed which is most like a single human being? For emmple, when one of us wounds a finger, presumably the entire c muniq tflng the body togetlrer toward the soul ( p a he koinonia he k ~ t ato soma pros ten psychen tetamene] in a single arrangement under the ruler within it-is aware of the fact, and all of it is hpa%nas a whole along with the afftided part." f462d). Plato's reference to the Phoenicim tale, which uses the Xanpqe of ""bothers" (addphoi) born: of a common mother earth (414de), semes as a crucial metaphor for the End of body politic that is held together by a common good not reducible to an eaernal, somatic uniq (i.e., a univ such as Socrates's comic diversion on women and m m exercising n&ed together, and the elaborate eugenics program that so fascinates GXaucon). A socieq focused on e ~ e m agoods, l says Socrates, would be crmmed full of ravers and doctors (alwys a bad siw, as Dostoevsky also believed), and tvould need many drugs-&at is, lies, numbkg ausions, and fed-good diversions. "fieonly true remedy for the problem of injustice and the foundhg of a good city "in speech" is for the soul to be ""trned around""toward the good, the pattern laid "in heaven" (en otsrano, 592b) that can nevertheless be enacted on the earth among "brothers" or ""6rrienilsmwherever the virtue of prudence is aercised. We do not have the space to pursue it here, but the parallels wi& Dostoevsws Christian understmding of politics are evident, In any case, it is not surprising that the modd for politics chosen by Arendt Erom zmtiquity is not that of Plato or other Greeks but rather that of the Romm. 58. Belknap, The Genesis of The Brothen Karammv, pp, 148-155. See also the fine disctrssi~nin Robin Feuer Miller, The Brohers Karamazw: Worlds of the Mwel (New Usrk: Twape, 19921, chapter 7, Miller suges% that in Kolya, Dostoevse "offers a nevv re&action of aspects of Mitya, Ivan, and the Grand Inquisitor" (Miller, The Brothers Karamaov, p*101). 59. Ivan tells Alyosha: ""Tant to get acquainted wi& you once and for all, and I wmt you to get acquainted with me, . . , I saw how you kept looking at me all these three monhs, there was a certain ceaseless expectadon in your eyes, and that is something X annot bear*which is why I never approached you, But in tfie end I learned to respect you: this ZittZe man stands his ground, I thought. . . . X Zove people who stand their ground, whatever they may stand upon, and even if they're such Iittle boys as you are." AAIyosha reqonds with a dedaration of love and the gatemeat that alrhough he still h e l s Ivan to be a riddle, he has came to understand something about him: ""That you are just a young man, macdy like all olher young men of ~enty-three-yes, a young, very young, &esh and nice boy; still green, in factIn (229). Their talk continues to make reference to "green youths'' and ""line boys;" in ways that Iater resonate with Alyosha" dealings with the schoolchildren and pardcularly with Kolya, SQ.The fallowing comments are based on Ssren Zerkegaard, The Sickness &to Death: A CZzrisdm Psychological Eqositt'on for Upbuildingand Awdxkening, eds, and trans, Howad Hong and Edna Wong (Princeton: Princeton Universiky Press, 1980). 61. Ibid., p. 20. 62. Ibid., p 63f.; d.Ssreni aerkegaard, The Concqt ofAnxz"ep; A Simple Psychologicat@ Qrientr"n8Deliberat.ion on the Zlagma~cIssue afHereditary Sin, eds. and trans, R. Thomk and A. Anderson (Princeton: Princeton Universiv Press, 19630), pp, 123-135. ''Ivan is a grave: says Pmitri, presumably comme-nting on Ivan's self-enclosed reseme (110, 229);

later fie repeats this to Alyosha: "Brother Ivm is a sphim; he's silent, silent all the time" (592,593). Indeed, it would s e m that Ivan confesses only to Afyosha, the "dwir"" , , .and Smerdyakov-the latter ""cnfessions:" and they are related, immediately precede his "'madness." 63. Kierkegaard sugeszs: ""X this incloshg reserve is m a i n ~ h e dcompletely; . . . then his greatest danger is suicide. . . . But if he opem up to one shgle person, he probably will become so relmed, or so let down, that suicide wiIl not result from inclosing reseme. . . . However, it may happen that just becaiusg he has opened himself to anoaer person he will kspair over having done so; it may seem t.o him that he ~ g hhave t hdd out fart far longer in siknce rather than to have a confidant. . . . In a poetic trmment, the denouement . . . could be deigned so that the confidant is killed, It is possible to imgine a demonic tyrant like that, one who craves to speak with someone about his torment and then successixly consumes a considerable number of people, for to become his confidant means certain deatv (Sickness Unto Death, p, 66). Haw this is displayed in Ivan's poetic creation, the Grand hquisitor, will be brou&t into focus in the next chapter, which treats "the sifene of Christ.'qvan, ahhough he is less incZosed -than the Inquisitor, has his regrets as well: "He even hated AXyosha, recdfhg that dafs conversation; at moments he hated bimdf very much as well'' (276). 64. GerXtegaard, Sickness U i s Death, ~ p. 72. 55, Kolya is introduced in book f 0, chapter I (""Boys"). 66, W o founded Tray? Kelp once asked the teacher, "DardmeXov gave only a general answer about peoples, their movements and migrations, about the remoteness of the t h e s , about fable tellfxlg, but who precisely had founeted Tray-hat is, precisely which persons-he could not say, and even found the question for some reason an idle and groundless one. But this only left the boys convinced that Dardanelov did not h o w who had founded Tray. As for Kolp, he bad learned about the founders of Troy in Snnaragov, d o s e history was in the bookcase left by his father, The upshot of it m s that alI the bays became interested finally in who preckely had founded Tray>but Kraso&n would not give away his secret, and the glory of his knowledge remained anshakeably his ownn (518). That the secret should cctnmrn the question of a political "founding" of a community. is surely not accidental, 67. A pafiicularly rwealing mample of this is his changed relation to his moher following a dangerous stunt in which he lay down b e ~ e e nthe railroad tracks and Iet a train pass over him. His &ling mother is hysrerical when she learns of this, and b l y a himelf, already shaken biy h e prank, tearhlly swears (on his b e e s before an icon and by his father's memory) never to do such a thing again. Regretting his ""feelings,"""the n e s day Kolp woke up as bnfeeXimg" as ever, yet he grew more silent, more modest, more stern, more thoughtful""(5f 8)-and more despotic, 68, See Belhap, The Genes&of The Brothers Karamamy, pp, 148-155. 59. Later*when boasting about his exploit in the marke~lace(which involved a goose and a peasant), he again pronounces on "the people": "I xlever reject the people, you how. I like to be with the people . . .W lag behind the people-that is an &amn (548). Of course, the: hcidenrt. with the peasant reveals KolyaS disdainhli superioriv over pllible peasants. m e n brought before flte judge for his role in EIling the goose, he arpes "with complete equanimity" that he "bad merely srated the basic idea and was speakng only hypothetidly" (549)-xacdy the manner in which &an tells Smerdy&ov that *alX is permitted?

70. See Ssren Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling trans, Absdair Wannay (Newk r k t Penguin, 1985). For a superb commentary, see Edward F, Mooney, Knights ofI"Lzi;Eh and Resignation: Reading Kierhgaard5 Fear and Trembling (Albmy: State Uniqrsity of New Erork Press, 1991), 71, It becomes clear in, book 8, chapter 3 fUGoZdMinesS")hat as a result of the scandalous stench of the elder" dead body Mme, Khoblakov has given up her naive, admiring faith in the elder's sraculous powers: "I'm alI for realism now, I've been ~ u g hatp o d lesson about miracles: she tells Drnitri (384). It appears she has now become ""a nperienced doaor of souls" "based on the evidence of natural sciexam-"a&er aU that smfy in the monastery, which upset me so, I" a complete rmlist, and want to throw myself into practical activiq. I am curedn(385). Her dau&ter Lise will now bemme "a modem girl, educated and without p~"ej~&ces:) a "new woman" (387). 72, That Lise has a private rdationship with Ivm is revealed in her commelPt, "'I don't like your broher Ivm Fyodorovicr21, Alyosha: in the chapter entided "A Betrothal""f 220). Alyosha notes the commens with silel~tsurprise, and later discovers that Ivan has been secretly visiting Lise (and that Mme. Khohlakov i s suspidous of these visits; 578-579). The mutually destmctivt character of their relation becomes clear in the chapter "A "Ade Demon" (book I I, chapter 3); and yet, despite this, Alyosha wiHing1-ytakes a letter from Lise to Ivm (600). To myone iaerpreting this s a n e in terms of erotic hmediacy; Alyssha's actions here would be vimed as ei'E2ler ridiculously naiw or per~rselyself-sacrificing. In terms of the "double movement" of the h i & t of faih (the renunciation of proprietary d a h s , as well as complete care far the other) that c0nstilt;ttes aaive, sewing love?it is neither, Ra.lher, it makes possible Myosha's discernment h t o the iUness that both tise and Ivan bring to their distorted relation, and enables him to address it with &a& speech that is unelerdaed mither t7y despair nor resentment. 73. See, for example, Terras, A Karamamv Gowanion, p, 443 (note 55); and Miller, The Brothen Karatnmv, p. 233. 74, There is a fascinating discussion of this dynamic in RenC Girard, Things HidLden Since the Foandal-ion ofthe World (Stanford:Sbnford Universiky Press, 19871, pp. 416-43 1. Girard understmds the lanpage of scandalon to refer to the obstacle model of mimetic rimlq-the exad, demonic opposik to the model of Christian love, which removes scm&l and seeks to r&ore: proper vision so that no one will smmble. The cross is a sscanhl only to those whose vision is already caught in the trap of the scandal model and the cycle of desire for dom;in.ation and revenge. Gisard puts it this way: "There h an element of idolatry and scandal in the type of ascenhncy that Jesusfioldr;over his discl"p.lesbefore the Resurrection, That is why they never appreciate what the real issues are. They still credit Jesuswith the wrldly prestige of a great chief3a "teader of menkr a "aster thider: The disciples see Jesus as behg inwlnerable-they see him as maskr of a superior farm of power. They are his followers so that &ey can. take part in this inm2nerabiIiq-so they a n become godlike according to the logic of violence, So it is inevitable that they be a n blized" (Ibid., pp. 418419). Satm is therefafore the mimetic model of scandal par excellence, the master of mimetic trick+"-th.e vident principle underlying at1 forms of e a ~ h l y brnination and a11 ;Form of idohtry; who tries t.o divert toward himselfthe adoration that is stric~ydue to God alone" (Ibid., p. 419). Thus, Paul recopllzes the cross as the ultimate scmdal, because it is presented as the ullimate vicmry-axzd those scandalized "fa3 to understmd what this victory could posibly consist in" "bid,, p. 428).

75, The quotation is from Isaiah 28:16, where the cornerstone is the sure foundadon of truth a e h s t lies, of justia a d righteousness against false judgment and the "covenant with death." 76. This quotation is taken from Psalm f 18:22; cf. Ma~hevv21:42, 77. This quotation is from Isaiah 8:1&15, where it is spoken of the ""Ldof hosts:" who is to be regarded as holy: "'Let him be your fear, and let him be your head, h d he will become a sanctuarF a d a stone of ofFense." The contea of this passage: h that the politics in d i d a p e with the hofy God differs from the power politics of idolatv-&ose who fear God da not fear what Molaters fear, xlamely temporal power. m a t h a Bncmary for the prophet, then, becomes a stumbling block for thosc: who do not fear Sad, I have dlisczlssed this passqe in "The Theological Politics of Plato and Isaiah: A Debate Rejoined,""I;ournal of Religion 73/1 (Jmuary 1893):16-30. 78, Kabert B e b a p commelPts: " N a d y , . .is hard to translate, It has been rendered as "aceration",axzd is derived from rvat', to 'rend', "ear', "urst: 'split', as h shown in the translations, "eartbreak: or "ysterics: . . . The adjective derived from it: can almost always be translated %eartrending""RfRolberl: Bebap, The Spucture of The Brathers Karamazov [The Hawe: Mouton, 19675, p. 47). 79, Kierkegaard discusses the various form of ofrFense or skandalon in Sickness Unto Dea& (pp, 113-131); and in. Pratice in Chrisdanily (eds, and trans, Howard Hang and Edna Hong [Prineton: Princeton hiversiv Press, f 991l), ""Bessed Is He 'tNlno Is Not Offended at Me*'" 80. The Russian word pravd~means both truth and justia (righteousness,xraciw integrity); it is the mact opposite of the lie, 81. Both Srnerdyakov and Drnitri cause young flyusha to stumble; Ivan does the %me with the child Lise and his younger brother Alyosha; and their facher Fyodor causes alI his children to stumbk. 82. Gerkegaard, Pracdce in Chris~aniy*p. E lOE In M a ~ e w18, that "crucial passage about oaense in general""(note the physiality of Jesus' 1mpal;e: millstones fox drownhg, ctming off l b b s , plpfucki~lg out eyes, the hell of fire), "Christ is s y e a g about ogense, but see, Christimly understood, the possibiliv of offense (the possibai~of real offense, that which is related to becoming Christian) really emerges first in the second place: in the remedy that Christ: reco nds in order to be saved from the oEenseP 83, Eerkegaard, Pratice in Gh~stknip,p. f 55, Let us again reall. elder Zosima's unders~ndingof the "crown of the mo&s path, and of every man's path on earth:" that moves the heart to insatiable love of the w r I d (Dostoevsky, The Brothers Earammy, p, 164). 84, See Genesis 4. lt is also reIevafzr to the brothers, fathers and sons, genealou and inheritance motifs in 172e Brothers B r a m w v to note &at t m e c h is not only tied to the progeny of proliferating violence; he is also the father of Pdoah, according to the Genesis genedome


seven

Christ in "The Grand Inquisitor"

Identifying the Silent Christ: Sources, Parallels, and Contrasts In Dostoevsk-y"~ notebooks for R e Brot.hers Karamazov we find the following allusion to John" account (John 18~33-38) of the encounter b e ~ e e nChrist and Pilate: "The clever Pitate , . . had reflected on truth, . . . M a t is the Truth? It stood before him, Truth himself."me trial of Christ before Pilate signified in dramatic fashion for Dostoevsb the collision b e ~ e e ntwo radically. opposed ideas of the meaning and purpose of human existenceindeed, "the two mast completely opposed ideas that could exist on earth.""2he idea of the man-god (Pilate as image of Caesar) confronted the God-man, "The Grand Inquisitor" hearkens back to this ancient confronbtion and at the same time anticipates that it will define also the Eut~rekrisis ((Greek,meaning ""dcision"")f moderniv. The entire prophetic point of Dostoevsky's art is given its encapsulating dramatic expression in the encounter b e ~ e e nthe Inquisitor and his silent prisoner. The words about the "dever" "late being faced by "Truth himself""are giwn to asima, in that s ~ t i o af n the notes for the novel corresponding to book 6, "The Russian Monk,""which Dastoevsky designated as his explicit response to the argument of Ivan in book S. This reference to the trial of Christ before Pilate sugresponse is atready present in the silent Christgests, hovuever, that [Dostoevsky)~ figure of Ivan's prose poem. The manner in which the truth of Christ is articulated through the charaaers of the novel-directly in the words and actions of Bsirna and Myasha, indirectlly in the self-betrapng words and aaions of Ivan and his Inquisitor-has been the subject of reflection in this book, Yet Christ himself is also a charader in The Bro&ers Karanzmov, and a compelling

one, although he does not speak, his silence challenges us to a more explicit consideration, The first requirement of such a consideration is to bear in mind that the Christ of "The Grand Inquisitor" is both Ivan Karamazovk "char~ter"and Dostaevsws "Truth." Xt is necessary; herefore, both to distinguish b e ~ e e nthe two Christs and to understand how h e y are related,

In the in"toduction to his ""poem," Ivan offers a number of literary precedents, medieval and modern, Western and Russian, for bringing ""higher powers down to earth." His poem, in which God "in his infinite mercy . . . once more waked among men in the semblance of man as he had waked among men for thirtythree years fifieen centuries ago," has its antecedents in Dante, in Victor Hugo7s Notre Dame de Paris, in an Eastern Qrthodax monastery poem, and in the nineteenth-century Russian poet, Fyodor lvanovich Tptchev. Like Tptchev7sChrist, who traversed the Russian land "in slavish garb," Ivan's Christ appears in the streets of skteenth-century Seville "quietly, inconspicuously." Nevertheless, the people recognize him: "[They1are drawn to him by an invincible force, they Rock to him, surround him, follow him, He passes silently among them with a quiet smile of infinite compassian, The sun of love shines in his heart, rays of Light, Enlightenment, and Power stream from his eyes and, pouring over the people, sh* their hearts with responding love? ban suggests that this miracle of recognition by ordinary people of the divine in their midst might well constitute one of the ""best passages" in his poem. He is right in this, and not only from a likrary standpoint; for he demonstrates an acute theological sensitiviq in his ernpbasis that this recognition, being already psmted, is therefore not compelled by the subsequent public miracle of the raising of the little girl on the cathedral steps[4042]." All this is, however, in Ivan" own words, just a "literary preface" to what he really wants to say; The merely pro forma nature of this bringing "higher powers dawn to eartfi" reveals itself readiXy enough in lvan7sresponse to Alyoshds perplexed questioning as to the real identiw of the prisoner: ""Of course . . . the man is ninety years old, and might have last his mind long ago aver his idea. He might have been struck by the prisoner's appearance. It might, finally, have been simple delirium, the &$ion of a ninety-year-old man near;ing death. . . .But isn't it alI the "Hereand beiotu; page number refexences apymring inside squarebrackets pertah to Dostoevsky's "TheGrand Inq&sitor," reprinted in Chapter 2 of this volume. Page n m b m s appmring inside parentheses, unless othemise indicated, pertain to Fyoodor Dostoevsb, l'he Brothers; Karamazov, trans. Richard Pevear and brissa Vojabonsky f New York Vintage, 1990).

same to you and me whether it's qquipro quo or boundless fantasy?The only thing is that the old man needs to speak out, that find7 afier all his ninev years, he speaks outwP4].Ivan appears at this point not to be particularly intereskd in the exact identit-y of the prisoner, suggesting that he is only something of a literary device, a catalyst for the Inquisitor" self-revelatory. monologue. However, we come ta see that this initial indiEerence is a pose; lvan is as much concern& with the nature of the silent prisoner as he is with the Inquisitor" speaking out. Under AlyosEra%further questioning after the recitatlion of his poem, he reveals that if the prisoner is not diviniv brought down to earth, as his literary plreface would have it, neithier is he merely an old man's fan~sy;He is, rather, the ""great idealist" (velikii idealist) [53]. The most signifiant source for Ivan's Christ is one he does not name explicitly: The title of ""geat idealist" aHades in all prababi1i.t-yto Emest Kenan's L$e of Jesus, This probability. becomes a virtual certainv when one considers Ivan's poem &out the return of Christ to skteenth-century Spain in the light of Dostoevsky's own recollection, in A Writer'sUiar5 of an actual conversation in which he was involved during the period of his life (in the 1840s) when he was under the influence of Vissarion Belinsws lefi-Hetfeliian socialism. The subiject of this conversation also was Christ's return to earth, but in the modern era. of secular progressivism. Dostoevsws reminiscence oEers an illuminating background to "The Grand Inquisitor,""and it is berefore worth q u ~ i n at g lengk For the most part, Belinsky w s not a self-reflectiveperson; he was always, throughout his Iife, a wholehearted entktusiat . . . . At the time of our first aquaintan= he amched hhseif to me with ajl his heart, and at once . . .he thrm bhseif into converting me to his faith. . . . .X found h h to be a passionate socialist-, and in spe&xlg to me he began directly with atheism . . . . As a socialist he first had to dethrone Christimiq. He knew that the revolution must necessarily begin with athdsm, He had to dethrone the religion that provided the moral foundation of the socieq he was rejecting. He radially rejected the family, private property, and the moral responsibilityof the indkidual. . .but he believed with all his being that socialism not only would not destroy persoad &eedombut wuXd, to rhe contrary, restore it to urzheard-of grmdeur, but on a new . . .foundadon, There remained, however, the radiant personality of Christ himself, which tvas moa di&crrlt to contend with. Belinsb, as a socialist, was absoIutely bound to destroy Christ" teachings; to label them false and uninformed pbilaahropy, proscribed by contemporary science and economic principles. Still there remained the most radialnt image of the God-man, its moral unatttainability; its mawelous and miraculous beauty. But Belhsky . . , in his u n f l a ~ i n genthusiasm, did not pause even before this insurmountable obstade, as did Kenan when he proclaimed in, his

Lye oflesus, a book filled with unbdief, that Christ is stiU the ideal of human beauty, an unaktainable type, never to be repeated in the future, "But do you know:" Belimb screeched one evening (sometimes, if he was very excited, he would screech) as lie turned to me, "Do you h o w that man's sins cannot be counted against him and that he c a n o t be laden dawn with obligations and with mrning the other cheek when socieq is set up in, such a mean fashion that a man cannot help but do wrong; economic faaors done lead him to do wrong, and it is absurd and cruel to dernarzd from a man something which the very laws of nature make it hpossible for him t.o carry out . . . " "It's touching just to look at him:" said Belincky, suddenly breakhg off his hrious exclmations m d turning to his friend as he point& to me, "I no sooner mention the name of Christ than his whole face changes, just as if he w r e going to cry . , . . But bdieve me, you n&ve fellow: he said, amaicEng me again, ""Believe me, that your Christ, were he born in our time, would be the mod undistinpished and ordinary of men; he w u l d be utterly eclipsed by to&fs science and by those foras that now advance ktumanily;'" "Oh, f think not:" interrupted Belinskvs fried (I recall that we were sitting while Beliasky tvas pacfng back and forth around the room). ""Xi& not. ff Christ appeared now he would join the socidist movement and take his place at its head , . . " "He would indeed:" Belimh agreed suddenly with surprishg haste, "'He certainly would join the socialists m d fallow them."s

Dastoevsky penned this reminiscence of his relationship with Ifelinsb in 18'73, during the period in, which he was preparing to write The Brothers KaranzmolrS4Renads Lye of;esus had alreszdy been on his mind for almost a decade, as is evident &am the numerous aXlusions to it in his notebooks for me Idiot and for Xlernons.5 In me Brothers Karamazov, Ivan's reference to the "great idealist" is s as the devil of one of several echoes of Renan distribul-gd among c h a r ~ t e r such Ivan's 'bightmare;"" and the liberal defense r a v e r from St. Petersburg, Fetyukovicfi, who spe&s of "the crucified lover of humanity (648,743),0 Although FetyukovicKs "crucified lover of humanity." is evidently the Jesus of Renan and not the Christ of the QrEllodox Church, ta say that Dostoevsky simply repudiates the former in favor of the latter would be to oversinnplify;7 I have a r p e d elsewhere in this book that a l ~ o u g hDosmevsley judges modern '"iberal idealism" inadequate, especially in its inability. to withstand the nihaism that it engenders, he does not condemn it entirely. His final estirnatlion of Renads partrait of Jesus should be considered in the light of his attitude toward the "liberal idedism" of Stepan Ver&ovensb in Demons. He widenfly wishes to "redeem" a Stepan who has attained self-awareness through the suEering brought on by his own way of thinExlg. Stepan's liberalism generates nihilist oEspring, but his ad-

herence to the "Great Thought" does leave him open in the end to the acknowledgment of divine rediq.8 This treatment of Stepan might well offer us a key to understanding how the ""geat idealist" of Ivan's poem might at the same time point to Dostoevsws "Truth." Dostoevsky"~ kequent allusions to Renan indicate that he was struck especidlly. by two features of the liberal French scholar's treatment of Jesus: the denial of Jesus' divinity; and yet at the same tme, the exaltation of Jesus as a model, the bearer of the ideal of human perfection. For Bostoevsky, Renan is the "unbeliever" who nevertheless cannot help betraying a sense of atve before the sheer beauv of the ""unattainable type" "signified by Christ. Indeed, the case of Renan appears to confirm Dos.toevsws conviction that no amount of analysis and reduction of the image of Christ according to rational and historical ""truth" will eclipse the radiance of this imav as a pmpetually compelling ideal for humanity: This conviction is expressed with defiance in the well-known letter written shortly after his release fiom the Siberian labar camp in which he had "accepted Christ into his soul": f can teU you about m y ~ l that f f am a child of this century, a child of doubt and disbelief . . and shall ever be (that f how), until they close the lid of my coffin, . . , And, despite all this, God sends me momen% of great tranquilliq . . . and it was during such a moment that I formed within myself a symbol of faith in which all is clear and sacred for me. This symbol is very simple, and here is what it is: to believe that there is nothing more beautiful, more profound more vmpathetic, more reasonable, more courageous, and more perfect than Christ; and there not only isn't, but X tell n;tyself with a jealous love, there camot be. More than that-if somane succeeded in proving to me that Christ vvas oubide the truth, and if indeed, the tmth was ou&i& Christ, I w u l d sooner remain with Ckxrist than with the truth.9

.

Ivan Karamazov, in accord with Renan (and despite his ""lterary. prefacey'), treats Christ stricQyin accord with ""Eclideany'truth, and therefore exclusively as a human king. Moreover, Ivan .foZXows Eenan in applying, above all, the category of "idealist" to Jesus; and like Renan also, he means by this something more probund than a ""great moralist" or a "benefactor of humanity" in any olctviously utilitarian sense.10 Indeed, it is the Inquisitor's antention &at the "perfect idealism" of Jesus, in asking far too much of humanity, constitutes a radical challenge to any realistic solution to the problem of human order, and is thus adualiy incompatible with the accolade ""'bgnefatar of fiunnanit-yD?'""Ianyone has ever desermd our stake, it is youy' l 1. Yet, in the face of the Inquisitor" 'keafism;""the image of the silent prisoner remains strangely compelling. Just as Eenan, in a book "filled with unbelief," could

not help but "pusem"fore the "radiant image,""so Ivan's poem seems in its effect to deny the intention of its author, As Ayosha obsewes: "Your poem praises Jesus, it doesn't revile him . . . as you meant it to" p 521. This unlooked-for e f k t of Ivan's poem is particularly noteworthy in that, unlike Renan, who afirms the ""prfe~edidealism" of Jesus while repudiating his divinity; Ivan is intent an repudiating both, Ivan7sJesus is heavily determined by Dostoevsky's encounter with Renank L$e ofJesm; but the French author, whae recopizing his Jesus in Ivan's portrait, would be appalfed at the Inquisitor's declaration that this Jesus deserves the stake, Renan, a liberal humanist, befieves in the ideal that his Jesus purportedly bequeathed to humanit-y: "His perfea idealism is the highest rule of the unblemished and virtuous life. He has created the heaven of pure souls, where is found what we ask for in vain on earth . . . in fine, liberty, which society excludes as an impossibility; and which eists in all its amplitude only in the domain af thought. The great Master of those who take rehge in: this ideal Gngdom of God is still Jesus.""XVvan'sEuuc1ideil.n rationalism, an the contrar~leads him to reject not only the diviniv of Jesus but also the gear idealist's affirmation of human h e d o m and equabq In the charges of Ivan" Grand Inquisitor, the Jesus of liberal humanism is subjected to the hammer blows of nihilism. The Inquisitor's contention that '%thereare the strong and there are the weak;"""and that only the former a n handle their freedom, expresses the tendencry of Ivan's secular humanism to move into nihitism, Here, as it were, Renan is confronted by Pdietzsche, And somehow present in this confion~tion,and transcending it, is Dostoevsky"s"Truth,""which we must now consider.

PJietzsche has &headybeen introduced into the discussion of Ivads Christ, and it is to him that we should turn first, in an eEort to get a clearer view of Dostow s w s Christ. In the course of his own treatment of the "psy.cholol5)r of the redeemer;""Nietzsche noted that he had in view two modern antecedents especially-Renan and Dastoevsky;Alfiough he is clearly indebted to Renan (more, it would seem, than he is willing to achowledge) b r certain features of his own presentation in n e Antl"-Ghn'eof the type of "the redeemer,""l3Nietzsche rejects what he takes to be the formative categories of Renan" portrait: Monsieur Renan, that buEoon in psyeholtlgkt has appropriated for his ~ l i c a t i o xof l the type Jesus the ~o mmt inapplicable concepts possible in this m e : the concept of the genius and the concept of the hero, h t if a n ~ h i n gis unevangelic it is the concept hero. Precisely the opposite of all contending, of all feeling oneself in struggle has here become instina: the incapacig for resistance here becomes moralig

(""rsist not evir!"; the profoundest saying of the Gospel, its key in a c e ~ a i nsense), blessehess in peace, in gentleness, the z'nafiiliyfar enmihy . . , , To make a hero of fe~usr-hd what a worse misunderstmdhg is the word "ge~us"!Our whole concept, our culfurd concept ""spirit" had no meaning whatever in the world Jesus lived in. To speak with the precision of the physiologist a quite digerent word w u l d rather be in place here: the w r d i&ot.ja

As X have noted elsewhere, Nietzsche did not have the opportunity to read f i e BrolFhers Karamazov, but he was thoroughly familiar with Das&evsk;y"sportrait of the Christlike Prince Myshkin in The Idio2; That he appropriated the ategory of "idiot3*from Dostoevsky is explicitly achowledged elsewhere in R e Anti-Christ: That strange and sick worid to which the Gaspds imtrodtlw u-a world Iike h a t of the Russian, novel, in, which rehst: of society, neurosis and kchil&!&e5idoiacy seem to m&e a rendmvous-must in, any case have coarsened h e type . . . . One has to regret that m Dosloevsky lived in, the nei&borhood of this most interesting dbcadent, f mean someone who could feel the thrigiliing fascination of such a combhation of the sublime, the sick, and the chiidkh.15

In Pdietzsche" sngublist.led notebooks there is a passage entitled "Resus: Dostoe-vsky: in which he asserts that Dostoevsb has been the only- one (before hirnself) who has properly ""figured out" CGhrist.16 Coming from Nietzsche, this is high praise indeed; but how helpful is it in our own eEort to ""figwre out" Dostoevsky on Christ? Two questions here need ta be addressed: To what extent can Prince Myshkin be identified with Dostoevsl?Fy%Christ? Does the portrait of Myshkin. actually bear out Nie~zsche'sjuxtaposition of Dosroevsl?ry)s"idiot" to Renan's '%"kreolgeniusD? As for the first question, it should be noted that Dostoevsky" explicitly stated intention in writing The Idiot was the relatively modest one (though more than ambitious enough in its own right) of depicting the ""perfectly beautiful" or ""god" (pekrasnyl') man.17 It is clear from the notebasks for the novel, however, that .for Dostoevsky the model of the ""perfectly good man" i s Christ himselfi this is evident, b r instance, in his frequent shorthand identification of the two in, the tirk "Prince-Christ" "aim' G r i ~ t o s )This . ~ ~ is not to say that Dastoevsl?rywas intentionally attempting, through his art, to discover and portray the aulhentic Jesus, but rather the reverse. Xn his attempt to discover and portray the "perfectly good" "man being, he drew on the highest model he knew, the Christ of the Gospels especiaUy>'gbut aho the Christ of subsequent Christian (particularly. Russian Orthodox) tradition, Since Dostoevsky also drew inspiration from other sources, such as charactcsrs in Western literature (Cemantes" Don Quixote

and Dickens" Pkkwick, most notably),20 and of course his own experience, obsewation, and imagination, one must be cautious about claiming simply that Prince Myshkin refiects Dostoevsky" sense of Christ. This caution noted, however, the general correspondence b e ~ e e nthe two is undeniable at one level: In contemplating the characteristics of Mysfakin, we contemplate the sort of human being Dostoevsky likely thought Jesus was. These characteristics include humility, the capacity for forgiveness, a spontaneous love for children, insight into the character of ohers, remarkable intelligence, and innocenc cate some of the more prominent attributes highlighted in the novel and the notebooks.21 Let us now consider the second question: Does the portrait of Myshkn actually j just@ Nietzscfiek jmtaposition of '"idiot" to '%erolgenius""?ietztzsche argues in TheAnti-Christ that the Gospels present us with two alternativeportraits of Jesus: the "mountain, lake and field preacher, whose appearance strikes one as that of a Buddha on a soil very little like that of India"; and the "aggressive fanatic, the mortal e n e w of [Jewish1 theobgian and priestPZ2 He identifies the latter as a fabrication of the early Church and the former as the "authentic" Jesus, who is, in his view, the Jesus also of me Pdz'o~Vet if such a distinction is cerlttinly too s h ple for the Jesus of the Gospels, it is also too simple for Dostoevsws Myshkin. It misses the dement of prophetic judgment in MyshEn-perhaps because Nietzsche understood prophetic judgment only. in terms of ""aggressive fanaticism." Dostaevsb embodies in Myshkn a digerent understanding, expressed concisely in hese vvclrds in his rough notebooks, immediately following a passage in which he emphasizes Myshkin's forgiving and saene nature: "Prophecy; Each one has been illuminated about himself." The presence itself of the uperfecdy good"" person illuminates the surrounding darhess so that those living within that darkness a n see it and judge themselves.23 Yet Myshknysprophetic role can on occasion be more "aggressive,""too. He apt~ the world around him, pears a n ~ h i n gbut "gntle;""inapable of ""~esis~nce" when at a social gathering of prominent people he launches into a vehement critique of the West: Romm Caholicism believes that the Ch-urch cannot exist on earth. without unixrsal temporal power, and cries: I?don possumus! . . . They h m trifled with the most sacred, trurhfuf, innocent, ardent feelings of the people, have bartered it a11 for monq, for bass temporal power, h d isn't this the teachkg of Andchsist? . . . Socialism, too, is the chifd of Catholicism. . . . It, too, like its brother atheism, was begotten of despair, . .ta quench the spiritual tfiirst of parched humaniv, and save it not by Christ but , . . by violene , . . , By their work ye shall h o w them-as it is wriaen . . . .We must organize our resistance, and do it now-now! ZZ is necessasy

that our Christ should shirne fa& in opposition to the ideas of the West, our Christ, whom we have presewed and they have never hom!24

If Myshkin" drawing-room speech is any. indication, there is roam in Dostoevsky"s image of Christ for both "mountain, lab, and field" preacher and apocalyptic prophet, The contrast might be jarring to readers of The Idiot; as indeed to readers of the Gospels; but Dostoevsky was apparently able to contemplate both types within one person. The key to assessing Mietzsche's interpretation of Myshkin lies in the word he most appreciated in Dastoevsws novel-idiocy Nietzscfie, like Dostaevsb, does not understand ""iiocy"3n rela.tion to intelligence (or any deficiency thereof). He defines it primarily. as a psvho-physiological condition determining a general attitude toward realiq: We recopize a condition of morbid srrsaptibiXity of the sense c?f@uchwhich m&es it s h r i d back in, horror from every con&ctjrevery grasping of a firm object. Translate such a physiological habitus into its ultimalte logic-as instindive hatred of every reality, as Right: into the 'ungraspable" . . as antipathy towards everything firm, all that is custom, institrution, Church, as behg at home in a world undisturbed by reality. of any kind, a merely 'kner" uvorld.25

Mow there is certainly. a physiological element to Myshkin" iidiacy; Dostoevsky emphasizes that he has been ill much of his life with epilepsy. To this extent, Mietzsche7sreading converges with Dostoevsky"~ portrait, However, Myshkin's iidi o q has for Das~evsk;yalso a religious meaning, and a very specific one, as this observation in the nothooks indicates: "The Prince is downright ill, a yuradi"26

Dostoevsky."s use of yurodivz"is the most important indicator as to how he himself understands Myshkin" idiocy; The yurodizyi, or "hob fool in Christ; is a central figure in the Russian religious consciousness. Byzantine ascetic praaice provided the Russians with this modeX, which they appropriated with special enthusiasm as a suitable expression of their kenotically oriented Christianity*3%e Russian "holy boX""intended to give dramatic mpression to Paul's account in 1 Corinthians ( 1:18, 1:2 1,3:18,4: 10) of the tension be~eezrspiritual wfoolishness'3 and worldly "wisdom.""As a living sign of this tension, the ""hly fool"" adopted forms of behavior-poverry; eccentricity, and ofren feigned madnesethat were at once exercises in self-humitiation and an indirect judgment of the "world" and its ""common sense."n Athough Myshkin certainly. shares the eccentricit-y of the yurodivyi, there is no serious quesrion of madness in his case, feigned or otherwise; even the worldly characters in the novel who are most disposed to regard

him as a bit "touched""quicMy come to appreciate the lucidiq of his insight, Dosmevsky, being attentive ta the modern consciausness, substitutes ""ilness" "ot m i a U y a trait of the "holy fooE""as traditionally defined) for ""madness" as the concrete correlative of Myshkn's unworldly bolishness. The judgment af the world embodied in the holy fool could also take a more overtly prophetic h r m in the Russian tradition, By the skteath cmtury, "holy foolishness" had come to acquire an important social and even politial meaning. [During &is period, the Russian Church hierarchy had become noticeably stack in the duty of defending &e oppressed and exposing injustice, so that the holy fools increasingly assumed this role of the ancient Church leaders. They also came increasingly t s assume the rale of the ancient "minted" pinces, who had built the state, and according to tradi~on,had aaempted to realize in it the principles of Christian justiw; for the Moscow rulers of the skteen& century no longer paid even lip sewice to this princely ideal. wth this abdication of moral leadersfib an the part af the Church leaders and the princes, the needed corrective af the Christian conscience came to be embodied in the holy fools. As the eminent historian of Russian Christianity.Eeorge Fedotov has noted: "This conscience could pronounce its judgement the more keely and authoritatkly, the less it was conneaed with the world, the more radically it denied the world . . . .At this period holy foolishness was a form of prophetic semice, in the ancient Jewish sense."^^ Mthough the public rale of the ""hoEy.fool" in Russian culture diminished considerably after the sixteenth cmtury, it was clearly not forlg-atten by Dostoevsb. Myshkin is both "princrs"%nd"hXy fooX," and his pronouncing of judgment before the pawerhl gathered together in General Yepanchin's drawing roam is entirely in heping with the meaning of his character. The views concerning the modern West he so vehemenrly expresses might well be those of Dostoevsb himselfi but the author has not, as some commentators aflege,2%ommitted an artistic incongruity in order to get those views into the navel. Myshkn's public outburst is faithful ta the yurodivyi tradition, which combined-albeit, often in difi'erent people and at difi'erent times-the indirect sign of =E-humiliation with the direct speech of admonition. In his prekrence for Dostaevsky's category af ""iiot" over Renan's '""genius/ hero," Nietzsche misses the crucid concept that mediates b e ~ e e nthe mo-that of "prophet." For Bastoevsky, the Prince as yurodivyz' is both idiot and hero, both "absudly unpotjirical" (in Nietzsche's words) and prolfoundly concerned with the question of social order. In short, even as [Dostoevsky is critical of Renan's Lye of Jesus, he would no more agree with Nietzschek reasons for esteeming more highly Prince Myshkn as a representation of Jesus. Dostaevsky.would find no essential contradiction b e ~ e e nidiot and gerziusIhoo as descriplions of Jesus, He does not reject Renan beause of the l a ~ e r kuse af the words geniu~hero3or even

pmfect ideallslc.30 Indeed, Dostoevsky too would a s r m that Jesus embodies and t problem is not with Renanysterms but with his expresses " ~ r f e c idedism.'The inadequate understanding of the very ideal that Jesus heroically-and idiotically-brings to the vvclrld. In order to cXari* Dostoevsky"~view of the deficiencies in this understanding of Jesus, we return to Renan: The idealism of Jesus is, according to Renan, above all an idealism of the free consdence, or "liber~." His khgdom of God m s . . .probably above ajl the h g d o m of the soul, founded on Iibeq . , , .It was a pure religion, without forms, wihout temple, and without priest; it was the moral judgement of the world, delegated to the conscience of the just man . . . , On the one hand, the right of dl men to participate in the kingdom of God was proclaimed. On flte other, religion was hencefor& separated in principle from the state, The r i g h ~of conscience, withdrawn from political law, resul~edin flte constimtion of a new power-the "spirhal power'' . . .. He was flte first t.o say, "My kngdom is not of this uuorfd:""" Evidently Jesus endorses, wII ahead of his time, the liberal principle of separation of church and state. Renan" Jesus signifies an ideal of individual freedom that stands in opposition to any. worldly order that would purport to integrate soul and body: If, as I have suggested, Ivan" '""reat idealist" is identifiable with Renan's, then the Inquisitor would be justified in regarding this Jesus as having of freedom . . .which you placed come to the w r l d primarily. with a Upromi~e above everpbing-an individual &eedorn that in the Inquisitor" view is hndamentally antihebcal to the social u n i q that human beings crave above all. That this e x a l ~ i o nof the "rights of conscience,""in separatlion from the world of political and social efistence, is not the proper interpretation of Jesus's @iddearis signded by Aly.osha$ question to Ivan in "The Grand 1nquisitarm":Wo will believe you about fieedom? Is that, is that any way to understand it? It3 a far cry from the Orthodox ideay"52]. AIyosha is speaking here on behalf of Dostoevsky. From Dostaevsws perspective, Kenan's sunerstanding of Jesus' perfect idealism is deficient in m o respects: in regard to the nature of the ideal itself, and in regard to its rea1izabili.t-y. If setting forth Dostoevsky's perspective were to entail a complete elaboration b of the "Orthodox idea" to which Myosba refers, we would be faced ~ t a large task indeed, and one fraught e t b compXicated questions, Itis possible, however, to follow a more direct route to Dostaevsky."s Christ by focusing on a document that contains the most explicit albeit informal aEount we have of his Chriritolom-the remarkable private meditation penned while he kept vigil by the corpse of his first wife. In this meditation, Dostoevsky" thoughts about his unhappy

marriage give rise to a struggle to articulate the meaning of Christ, in relation not only to his personal loss but also to the more general quesrions that preoccupied him as poet-prophet, He indiates how the ideal of Christ shows the way to the overcoming sf those perennial contradictions-be~een egoism and love, iadividuality and socid unity; freediom and equality-which continue to permeate modern thought and practice. Xn contradistinction ta Renan, Dostoevsky" Christ sipifies a personal liberty &at hlfills itself onIy by giving itself over to csmmuniry with others: April 116 Masha is lying on the table, WirI I meet again with Masha? To love a person as one's olyn seyacwrding to the commandment of Christ is impossible . . . ,The law of individudiq on e a ~ is h the constraint, "'Iis ' the stumblhg block, [But] Christ alone was able to do this, but Christ w a eternal, an eternal ideal toward which man strives and should by flte lam of nawre strive. Merznwhile, after flte appearance of Christ, as the idea of man incarnag, ir becme as clear as day that . . .the hi&est, final dwelopment of the individual should atLain precisely the point (at the very end of his development, at the very point of reaching the god) . . .where man might find, recognize and with aU the strenM of his nature be convinced that the hi@r;st use which he can m&e of his individuali2-y;of the full development of his I, is to seemingly mihilate that I, to give it whoUy to each and every one wholeheartedly and selfiessly. h d this is the greatest happiness, In this way the law of the I merges wi& the law of humanism, and in flte mer&ng both, both the I and the all (in appearace two esreme owosites) muf~lallyannihilated for each other, at the s m e time . . . each apart attains the highest goal of his individual deveIopment. This is indeed the pwadise of Gkxrist. All hislory whether of humani~yor in past of each man separately is only development, stru~Ze,striving and anainment of that p a l . ... Christ entered entirclly into humaniv, and man strives to transform hirnself into the I of Christ or into his own ided .. , , h d thus on earth m d n d strives toward an ideal opposed to his nature, m e n a man has not EulfiUed the Iaw of s t r i ~ n gtowards the ideal, &at is, has not through Eove sacrifimd his I to people or to zmo&er person (Masha and l), he suEers and cdIs &is state ZP sin. And so, man must unceasingy aperience a sufiring which is cornpensated for by the heavenly joy of &)filling the Law, that is, by sacrifice, This is earthly equality. Othemise earth wuZd be senseless.32

It is noteworthy that in this most personal eEort at articulating the meaning of Christ, free of the self-consciousness of an author with any audience in mind, Dostoevsky's instina is to emplloy the more tenative-and more universauy accessible-language of philosophy rather than Christian doctrine. Indeed, the

document il1ustra.t-g~ dearly. how foreign the terms of dogmatic theolof~yare to DostaevskyJsrefigious thought, He speaks of Chririt:as "eternal ideal" raber than "Redeemer.'Mthalagh this language might resemble the liberal discourse of a Renan, Dostoevsws emphasis on Christ as an ideal or model toward which human beings can and should strive is also in accardance with the Orthodox idea to which ALyosha refers, Orthodox thinking has k e n deeply influenced by the distinction made by the early Hellenistic theobgians, especially Irenaeus, be~eezr human beings as created initially in the divine "image" and human beings as moving gradually also into the divine ""ltikeness" through their own free responses. The understanding of Christ as the model of human Life in the divine likeness, held out for the emulation of human beings, is in keeping with the Irenaean notion of human mord perfection as the outcome of a development charaderized by a synerm of divine grace and human fieedom, Xn speaEng of Christ as an "eternal ideal" "ward which humanity strives, Dostoevsky reflects the thin&ng of lrenaeus and the Greek East, even if his language seems closer to that of Renan. Moreover, his interpretation of this idea1 as one of self-realization through self-abandon me^ shalres in the Eastern (and especially Russian) ernpbasis on the way of kenosZSe33 Yet, what are the prospects for the realization of this ""eternal ideal" of selfsacrificing love in the face of the ""Iw" of egoism that ruks in the world? Renan assumes that the ""kingdom of God""preached by Jesus has its r e d b a ~ o nfinafly in the private conscience of the individual. As such, it is an inspiring hope but also a continual rminder of the indivibiduays separation fiom a realcitrant w r l d that denies keedorn and virtue. Dostoevsky certainly preferred Renan's sense of antithesis b e ~ e e nthe idea1and the real to the rational sprhesis promised by Hegel and his epigones. He could affirm in Renan's '""perfect idealism,""as in Stepan Ver&ovensky"s devo~onto the "Great Though," the evidence of a lon@ngfor transcendence, His own work, moreover, e*ibits a vivid sense of the unrelenting indifference of the world, both human and natural, to this longing. Let us recall that in the medi~tianhe speaks of humanity.striving ""tward an ideal oplposed to [its] nature," We might also note, for instance, the unforgettable commentary of Ippolit Terenqev in The itldt'or on Holbeixr"s painting of ""The Dead Christ in the Tomb"": ER the p k m e the face is erribly smashed tvjth blows, stvalen, covered tvjth terrible, woZlen and Mood-stained bruises, the eyes open and squinting; the large, open whites of the eyes have a sort of dead and gtassy glint . , . .As one Iooks at the dead body of this tortured man, one mnnot help asking onefelf the pealiar and interesthg question: if such a corpse (and it must have been just Iike that) was seen by all his disciples . . . by aXI who believed in. Him and worshipped Him, then how

could they possibly have believed, as they looked at the corpse, that that martyr would rise again?Here one cmnot help being struck with the idea that if death is so horrible md if the laws of nature are so povverful, then, how can they be overcome? How can. they be overcome when even He did not conquer them . . . ? Looking at that picture, you get the impression of nature as some enormous, implacable, and dumb beast, or to put it more correctly5much more correctly . . . as some huge engine of the latest desip, which has ~nwlesslyseized, cut to pieces, and swallowed upimpassively and unfeelingly-a great and priceless Being, a Being w r t h the whole of nature and a11 its law, w r & the entire earth .. . .The picture seems to give expression to the idea of a dark, insolent, and senselessly eternal power, to which werphi~lgis subordhated.~~ Although we h o w of the devastating impact Holbeirz" painting had on Dostoevsb himself when he viewed it at the art gallrzry in Ilasd," his vision is not m e r e a s Xppolit7sCChst (like that of Renan) is the identical to that of IppolitP.. ""geat idealist5'who becomes yet one more human victim of an indifferent or hosdle world, Dostoevsky5sCChst is the "great ideal" kselfi "Christ-the great and final ideal of the development of all humanity-which appeared to us . . .incarnate," "sewhere in his meditation, Dostaevsky speaks of Christ as the "rekction of God on earth,"% The modern p0rtrai.t-s of Christ most closely related to Dostaevsws Christ-those of Renan, Nietzsche, and Ivan Kanlmazov-explicitly deny his divinity; and I)ostoevsky%own Prince MyshXcin must also finally be understood as a representation not of Christ but of Chrisdikeness, of the human possibility of transformation "into the I of Christ." The Christ who is Dostoevskyfs "TrutV is (apin, in accord with the "Orthodox ided3)both human and divine, the divine-human God-man (bogochebov&),37 As the eternal ideal who appeared in the world "incarnate,)) Dostoevsky's Christ signifies that the world and human nature are not find7 opposed ta the ideal of love. Christ himself not only inamates that ideal in the face of the law of egoism on earth, therein acting as the model for human beings; he dw founds a communal order in and through which the vvclrld and human behavior might be transformed in practice. This, for Dastoevsky; is the primary significance of the Church. It is an embrpnic expression in pradiw of the merging of the ""Iaxld the all'' in a way that alXows individuals to hnd in XErek univ with others at XEre same time the highest development of their unique personality." As is we21 h o w n , Dostoevsky had strong opinions about the relative merits of the institutional churches-Roman Catholic, Proteswnt, and Orthodox-as faithful presewers of the communal order founded by Christ. Yet when it comes ta a concrete depiction in his art of the merging of the "hand the all,""he eschews such grand and tendentious interpretations of history in favor of showing what he means

through the tiny; modest community of children founded by Ayosha in the egilogue to The Brothers Karamazov.39 It was Dostoevskfs hope that the problem of the ""fnd the all,""would be resolved in the historical hture after the model of Christ rather than according to the social formula of the Grand Inquisitor. He recognized that this was a hope, not a certainty; Indeed, all that was certain for him was that the full realization of his hope would signie the end of history itself-though not, of course, in the immanentized sense of Kojeve, Fukuyama, or the Inquisitor. Referring again to Dostoevsky's medit-atlion: "But if that [that is, the ""paradise of Christ,""the "merging of the 1 and the all"] is the final goal of humanity (and having attained it, it would no longer be necessary. ta develop . . . to struggle, ta glimpse the ided through all one" fdls and etemdy strive towards it . . . )-then it follows that man atQining it would also end his earthly existence." This end, however, is not one of annihilation but of transformation into a "heavenly life."do The final consummation of the law of love among human beings is enhlded in the ""other mysterious tvorlds" of Yvbich Zosima speaks. Dostoevsk;yfs medibtion on love and egoism, i n d h i d u a l i ~and social unity, in relation to the ""eternal ideal" of Christ thus becomes a meditation aXso on the mystery of immortafity: "Evemhing depends on whether Christ is taken for the find ideal on earth . . . .If you believe in Christ, then p u believe that you will live etemaUy.'"Vor him, the divinity of Christ implies that he is the ""~eflectlon"on earth of both God and immortality Dostoevsky asserts that the "synthetic nature of Christ is vvclndrous,""dzand indeed the capacity of his Christ ta draw d1 to himself is evident in the manner in which the central themes and tensions of Dostaevsk;yfs whok religious thought are brought together in this meditation of three pages. Alrhough the Zangwge of the meditation tends to be philosophical, the vision is XEroroughly biblical: Dostowskfs Christ is the "Ii&t of the world" (John 8~12)who both illumines &e darhess of the world and "overcomes" that darkness (John 16:33). Despite Ivan's intentions, the compelling silence of his ""great idealist" "ages forth something of the Christ of the Gospels, The Inquisitor might stick ta his idea, and Ivan with him, but the s3ent prisoner's kiss &ows in his heart.

The Silent Christ: A Theological Coda M a t are we to make theologially of the s2ence of Christ in the poem of the Grand Inquisitor? An intriguing question, with an equally intriguing range of possible answers that connect t-o the &ernes of this book. Might it be related to the silence of the slain Lamb of the book of Revelation, in regard to which one commentator has noted, ""One rather remarbble feature of the Lamb in Revela-

tion is that he never speaks;""in contrast to the ""tasa" who speak blasphemously ( 135) and "like a dragon" (l(f3:11)?43 Might it be understood as the embodiment of Christ" kenotic pattern of self-emptying, the dFng seed of John 12, or the selfabnegating sower of the parable? Quld it be that the Christ figure, like the silent Jesus before Pilate, will not answer the Grand Inquisitor on his own ground, as an arpmentative or political rival-the "other" in the mediation of mimetic desire? Is the silent Christ of Inn's poem perhaps related to Hesychastic (from the Greek, hesychz'a, ""siXence") monasticism, which strongly influenced the Russian monastic tradition that farms an important backdrop to Dostoevskyk final novel? All of these related answers are plausible, and yet they cannot be given in abstraaion from the literary and dramatic setting of the novel itself, Nor should we forget that the silent Christ "answers" the Inquisitor" defiant monologue with a silent gesture, a kiss of intimacy that burns in the Inquisitor" heart, Let us explore this web of associations in order to m a k some concluding obsemations about Dostoevsws prophetic poetics. To do so, we will first return to the scene of confrontation bemeen the Christ figure and the Grand Inquisitor in Ivank poetic work. Ellis Sandoz has astutely observed that the Inquisitor is in some respects modeled on John the Baptist.44 Like John, the Inquisitor ""was in the wilderness, and I, too, ate locust^" (2601, preparing for marvrdom, until he "awoke" and joined the host seeking to correct Christ" deed. The opening words of the Inquisitor-""l it you? You?"-to his prisoner echo the question sf the imprisoned John the Baptist in, Mathew X 1, %re you be who is to come, or shall we took for another?" In Ivan%poem, no answer is given, and the Inquisitor quicHy cuts off the possibility.of an answer: "Do not anstuer, be silent." h Xnattheds gospel, Jesus's ansurer is certainly not direct: "Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive theh sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them, And blessed is he who bkes no offense [is not scandalked] at me" "( l : M )The , issue here is prominently featured in Ivan's literaq preface-namely> how is the identiq and authority.of Christ recognized in, the world? The a d of recognition, Ivan clearly assrrrts, can be resolved only with reference to "faith in what the heart tells you." "e act of recognition reveals the heart of the realist-as Gerkegaard guts it: ei&er faith or offense. Ivank Inquisitor is a John the Baptist figure who takes offense, leaving the wilderness and the plrrspbetic proclmation of repentance in order to prepare a very different path of human blessedness. matever the Romantic: cobrings in Ivan's portrait of the Chririt: figure, it is nonetheless e-vident that his intent is to judge the Christ of the New Tes&ment, the one t-o whom AIyosha has appededin response to Ivan's despairing dossier of unrequited tears of innownt suffering children-as having the "right to forgive,""who ""can forgitre everything, forgive all

and for alP" (246). A basic premise of our interpretation of f i e Brothers Karamazov has been to view the poetic whole of Dostaevsws novel as portraying a situation of ""cntemporanei~"with Christ, a dramatic enrzctment of the Christian vision of spirimal caasdi.fy;" Yet in Ivads "play within a play" it is remarbble that Ivan cannot himself .flulily risk this challenge-unlike his ""nice colledion" of antitheodiq anecdotes taken from contemporary news reports, his poetic trial of Christ mainbins its critical detachment. It is set, somewhat anachrmistically; in the Spanish Inquisition of the (CZounterrefarrnation,46 representing everphing that modern Europe has rejeded in the aulhoritarian church of Christendom. Expressing one of the more cpical and brutal examples of Christian power politics, it serms to counter but also to highlight the political w e b e s s and powerlessness of the biblial Jesus. Thus it brings into focus the double offense of the God-man-in relation to lofiiness (the claim that Jesus embodies divinity) and in relation ta lowliness f the one who embodies divinity is powerless to end sufferingl4T-an affense tied above all to Jesus" claim to forgive sins, The opposite of faith in response to Christ's claim to forgive sin, s q s GerFreg~lrd,is not doubt but offense, or the sickness unto death expressed in various conscious and unconscious farms of despair. That is, the response is not e the God-man or a doctrz"neof Atonement; determined in relation to a d o m i ~ of it is the personal will to accept or wiDfuUTj reject the life of Christ as paradigmatic bath of the divine purpose for the world and of the path to human weD-being, the edifice of buman happiness, The life of Christ evokes an eistentiai trial, described in Simeon's prophetic blessing in Luke 2:35 as the sword that pierces the soul and reveals the thoughts of the heart, X suggest this is precisely what happens dramatically to the Grand Inquisitor, whose ninety-year siience (250) is broken open in his confronbtion with the silent Christ. m a t we have in Ivan's poem is the defiant self-disclosure of demonic despair. It will help to have Eerkegaaras definition of this despair before us as we consider the Inquisitor: Demonic despair is the most intensive form of the Ispiritualt sichessj despair: in despair to will to be snesdf . . . in hatred toward mistam, it wills to be itselF,wifXs to be itself in accordmm with its mise~y,. . . Rebelling against all mistence, it feels that it has ob&ined evidence against it, against its goodness, The person in despair believes that he hhself is the evidence, and that is tvhat he wants t.o be, and therefore he uuants to be himelf, himelf in his torment, in, order to protest against aU existence with this torment, . . .Figuratively spe&ng, it is as if an error slipped into an author's writing and the error became conscious of itself as an error-perhaps it amally was not a mist&e but in a much higher smse an essentid part of the whole production-and now this error wants to muthy against the author, out of hatred towud him, forbidding him to cctrrect it and in maniacal defimm saying to h h :

MO, f refuse to be eras& I will stand as a, witmss against you, a witness that you are a second-rate author*dB

For the most part, sugests Kierkegaard, demonic despair keeps itsdf hidden in a self-inclosing reseme that will not confess its deepest identity;Yet when con&onted by the good, a bad conscience cannot endure sjifence:"The only thing that can mnstrain inclosjing reserve to speA is either a higher demon (for every devil has his day), or the good, which is absolutely able to keep silent.""49So in the face of the silent Christ the defiant despair of the Inquisitor is brought to involuntarr)l confession in the form of speech that precisely characterizes the spiritual state of such. an isolated, tormented self: a monolog;ue." Ivan's poem, like the Inquisitor's monologue, represents the isolated self that will not enter into the free reciprocity of love offered in Christ's forgiveness of sin. It devotes itself rather to proving that happiness and human fulfillment must take away that freedam of conscience, the cost of which is too high, and replace it with the s ~ u r i t yof. mass society presided over ety higher humanists, who will correclt. the botched anthropology of the God-man. Ivan and the Inquisitor take offense at Christ" claim with reference to his divinity. Early on in "Rebellion,""the chapter preceding "The Grand Inquisitor: ban admits to Alyosha that in his opinion Christ" love is a ""miracle impossible on eartr: "True, he was God. But we are not gods" (237). Thus to put foward Christ's love as a model for human imil;ation is not only a cruel mockery of human incapacity; it incites people to godlike aspirations that creak tremendous suEering on earth. To fall from such an elevated ideal leads human beings to de, man monic excesses. As Ivan puts it, ""Xink that if the devil does not e ~ s tand has therefore created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness" (239)-a formulation proven by Ivan's collection of ""line facts." So Ivan's Inquisitor accuses Christ of ignoring this insoluble contradiction of human nature and unrealistically elevating the expectations of free conscience by putting himself foward as the image of human Eulfillment, able to resist demonic temptations: "Oh, of course, in this you acted proudly and magnificently; like God, but mankind, that weak, rebellious tribe-are they gods?" (255). Such an overestimation of human freedom can only evoke the unhappy>rebellious despair of the majority of human beings, who are not up to the challenge of becoming selves in confession, accepting the offer of forgveness of sins, and taking up the dkine p o s t u ~of self-sacrificing, serving, humble love-which is, after all, the true, not directly visible mirade of the God-man, The oaense in relation to the loftiness of the God-man has eveqhing to do with his claim as an individual human being to forgive sin, which is something only God can do. Ivads ""hmble confe"esionnthat he can never understand how

the suff@ringof innocents could ever be forgiven, or how in the whole world there could be a being who would have the ""Pght" to forgive (243f.), is rooted in a refusal to believe the revelation of such a possibility in the incarnation of Christ, His ""fimilit-y""causes him to "hasten" to take his own human measures and to defend himself against the "higher harmony" of the divine offer of forgiveness of sin, Ivan and the Inquisitor deny the trrtth of Christ beaase in human unders~ndinga Goas waingness to become human in order to for@ves h is impossible and scmdalous. This leads to the second, related form of offense: that related to the lowliness of the God-man, The offensive lowfiness of Christ is the dominant subtext of the Inquisitor" monologue. If he is going to be God, then at least he should have made this direaly evident to human beings, evoking their compliant obedience by an ovewhelming, public display of divine power and authority; and thereby solving the tormenting problem of personal freedom that leads to such horrific human suEering. To continue to appeal to the free decision of the heart reinforces the paradox of freedom in the divided conscience: Nothing is more seductive and yet nothing is more harmful. The indirect communication of divine love in the lowly, powerless human form of the suffering servant is offengive to human understanding-not least because it requires that human beings model their lives afier it as the path to harmony and happiness. Such a paradoial foundation for the rule of God, accuses the Inquisitor, is destructive of the very conditions for its sugess, It cannot therefore be the truth, since it is beyond human capacity for comprehension and action. The i r o q here is intentional: It is the God-man, after all, who stands in the prisoner's dock and is subjected to human trid. The point is that Christ" revelation of God and the human oEends natural human howledge and expectation of both-both with respect to loftiness (any self-respecting God should remain hidden in mysterious transcendence rather than become overly familiar in particular human form, oaering forgveness of sins as if such a right could be offered to all by one) and with respect to lowliness (human beings canna be exgeaed to be drawn toward the divine by way of volunt-;lrysuffering and death, taking upon themselves even those burdens unjustly imposed by others and being willing to forgive even those who impose these burdens; they cannot be mpected to believe that this is the path to the highest happiness). Such a revelatlion offends natural religious and moral sensibilities by prescribing a cure for the human condition that is more tormenting and digcult than the finess: a pattern of righteousness l Ivan and the 1nquisi;torjudge the God-man that flies in the face of n a ~ r ajuslice. according to their own, more realistic idea of the nature both of diviniv and of humaniv. Ivan in particular wants Eaclidean proof of divine goodness and trustworthiness, absent which he is not preparc;.$ to take on the weak and humble pos-

ture of Christlike love. At a minimum, he wants a phtlosophially respectable Christ who mswers the b e o d i q problem, The answer to the Inquisitor" monolowe given by the Christ fipre indiates that Ivan sees what is required. The prisoner remains attentive but silent, and then approaches the old man (still in silence) and Esses him on his lips: "That,"" says Ivan, "is the whole answer.""There is no direct, doctrinal resolution to the offense of the divided human conscience that refluses to enter the divine mystew of incarnate love through the forgiveness of sin. There is no external, rational ans w r to the problem of suffering. The response required is to hand the self over in an obedient trust that temporally embraces the offering of eternal, divine love, offering in turn ta share it actiwly with others in the superabundant economy of divine fullness. Hence the language of intimacy, the gesture of the kiss, is exadly faithhX ta the revelation of Christ; it is an invitation ta intimacy with God and neighbor by giving up one%tight hold upon the self in order to hand over one's will ta a mysterious higher purpose-a handing over that can only be experienced as a death, a complete giving up of control in order to serve what tve cmnot fully know or resolve," The identiv and authoriq of the God-man cannot be seen or spoken about directly; and one therebre cannot control its meaning or its reception by others in the world. It can only be encountered &rough the sacrificial self-giving of intimal-g love, in which the self finds itself and its power to act by empqing itself in service ta the other, In effect, it is a pattern that requires dramatic enactment of a possibi1i.t-y that appears ta be humanly impossibleto get oneself back by giving it up . . .in love. This is the spiritual causality. disdosed in the "law of Christm-the law of intimate, divine love that burns in the heart. It is u ~ e r l yfitting that Alpsha reminds the despairing Xvaa of the erode attachments that move him to love Iik, asking hirn: "How will you live, what will you love them with?" (263).Ivan appeds to the force of "Karamazov baseness" and the formula "all is permitted." It is a formula that Ivan will not renounce, and he defies Alyosha to renounce hirn for it. Instead Myasha commits his act of '"literary theft,""sgendy kissing his brother on the lips. 3%e law of Christ, the knotic posture of humble love, is not a moral law in conAict with &eedornbut raher seeks its hXfillment in the purification of desire, "All is permitted; but everphing depends on whether onPs heart is attuned ta the inarticulate embrace of the divine Word that loves through the penitential, giving of the self, or to the various self-asserting ideas that judge acarding to the logic of fallen desire. For Dostoevsky, only the practice of love disdosed in the image of Christ can lead ta a recognition of the causal structure of love in realiv-a love above all manifested in dying, Handing oneself over to b e "not-knoTlvingDof God in a faith that "sees darHy" and therefore seeks actively, in the form of the swvant, will involve the self in complex trials of love that cannot be accounted for

in direct human speech. Yet it can be represented indirecQy>in the dramatic display of the pattern in manifold, particular forms, In R e Brothers Karammov Ivan is "answered" by his brothers, Dmitri and Myasha, who penitentialfy embrace the scanhlous posture of Christ, enacting the wards of the elder-""a21 are gwiIq for all, all are responsible for allm-and experience the blessedness of "brotherly communian" in the order of self-giving love. The Eundamental brat implicit, unexpressed thought that we take with us from this reading of Dostoevsky's novel, then, is the final. inabiliv to put into speech the spiritual causaliv of divine purpose. As Dostoevsky's art shows, insight into the truth of divine purpose is not a matter of rhetorical power or dianoetic virtue, of the various apparatuses of conceptual control devised by human wisdom, It enails the rehtional risk of obedient trust that refinquishes its hold on causal levers, repents of the attempt to manage reality; and gives itself to the excessive, active love of divine intimacy; Like the Mew Testament witness, Dostoevsky believes that this hnotic pattern-which scandalizes conventiona2 human wisdom and therefore suEers in h e world-represents the path toward the fullness of divine love in which human beings are destined to share. Christ is not only suffer;ing semant but also bridegoorn-depicting the relational intimacy of divine love that reveals how our own hopes are tied to the whole of life, The lanin keeping with that found in guage of immortali~in The Brot.hers Karamaz~v~ the gospels, is not focused on doctrines of an afterlife or on the nature of the soul. The focus is on the drama of excessive, divine love that through suEering service invites a11 to participate in Go8s passionate desire for wholeness-ss that aU may one day feast together in the marriage banquet of divine consummation, where at2 particular loves dance for joy because they know face to face even as they are fuUy known,

Notes 1, Fyodor Dostoevsky, The No&books for The Brothers Koramazw, ed, and trans, Edward WasioIek (Chicago: University of Chicap Press, 2971), p. 202. 2, Fyodor Bostoevsky, A WriterWkigy, vol. 2, trans. Kenneth Lantz (Evanston, TIX.: Nor&western University Press, E 9941, p, 1322. 3. DostoevsQ,A W r i t e r W B ~vol. , l, pp. 127-129. 4 , See Dostoevsky, Notebooks for T3ze Bror;hers Koramam, p, 7, 5. See, for instance, Fyodar D c t s t o e ~ ns ~e~Motc?booksforThe Idiot, ed, Edward Wasiolek, trms. Katherine Strefsk (Chiago: U~versikyof Chicago Press, 1967), p, 105; and idem, The NoteEtaoksfor The Possased [Demons],ed. Edward Waliolek, trans. Victor Terras (Chicago: University of Chiago Press, 1968),pp. 218,236237. 6. See also Vict.ar Terras, A Karamamv Cowlpanion f Madison: University of Wiscomin Press, 198f ), pp. 395,43 l, Terras sugests that the titk of 1van"sother significant poem the

""C;t.ologicdCataclysm," which is oufXined by the devil of Xvan's '"nightmare," was inspired by a pasMge from chapta 7 of Renam"s Lqe offaus. 7. A degree of ambiguity.might well be inherent in a discussion such as this; but in what follows m e&rt has been made to be consistent in using the names jesw in relation to the historical person (especially when the focus is acZusively on his humanity, as it is in, the m e of, say, h a n ) , and CJr~stin relation to the God-man of Christian fai&. 8. See the discussion of Stepan Verkk.1avensbin Chapter 5. 9. Letter of 15 P e b r u a ~1854 ta Hatdya D. Fonvizin, in Selected LREers of Fyodor Dostoevskt",eds, J o ~ p Fh r a d and Bavid I. Gofaein, trans. h d r e w R, Machdrew (London: Rutgers Universiv Press, 19871, p, 68. The italics are X)ostaevskyJs.See also DostaevsQ, A Wtr';ter"siay, vol. 2, p. f 300. 10. Renan was not content, as were many of his liberal contemporaries, merely to admire the "morality of the gospd," h his vim$this would be to uderesthate seriously the profoundly revolutionary implications of Jesus9eachhg: "The idea of Jesus was much more profound; it was the most revolutionary idea ever formed in a human brain." See Erne& Renan, m e Lge ofJesus (NW York: Random House, 2955), p. 256. 11. Xbid,, p. 383. 22. See Dostoevsitry, N~tebooksfor ?"he Brothers Karamamv, p. 82. 13, One of the Ieadhg historical andodes by which Nietzsche amennprs to get a clear image of Jesuethat of a Buddha on Palestinian soil-appears to follow Renam"s sugestion (cf. ?"heL$e offesus, pp. 187, 197), 14, Fridrich Nielzsche, The Anti-Christ, trms. R, J, Hollijggdale (Mew York: Penguirs, 19681, p. 141. The italics are liiietzsche's. For references in, Renm to Jesus as a ""herolgenius? see The L f e offaus, pp. 93, 144,160. 15. liiietzsche, The Rnh-Christ, pp. 142-143. (The italics are liiietzsche".) The reader might wish to rekr back to the discussion in Chapter 5, for detaiXs about Hietzsche's familiarity with B~osloevswswlitings. 16. Friedrich Nietzsche, K~Ir'scheGsarntacdusgabe,eds. Giorgio Cslli and Mazzino Manthari (Berlin, 19617-), vol. 8, pt. 3, p. 203. 17, Letter of 3 1 December 1867to Apollon N,Maikov>in Setected LRgers o f f i o d ~Dosr toevsk~p. 252. (The italics are Dostoevsky's.) The Russian word prelcrasnyi can be translated as either good or bearxtr"ful,In this coat-, good would be the better choice, though its close identification with the fieaugfisl should be kept in mind. Here is the more complete text of Bostoevsws remarks: "For a long time already, there was one idea that had been troubling me, but I was af"raidto make a novel out of it because it was a wry diecult idea, m d X m s not ready to &cHe it, although it h a fascinating idea and one X am in, love wi&, The idea is--@ ~ O ~ Ja X pe$ectly W good man, T believe there c m be nothing more clifficult than this, especiauy in our thZ"(Selec~ed h&rs of Fyoitlor Dost~ewkppp. 259-270; the italics are Dostoev~Ws), 18. See, for instancle, Dostowsky, No~-ebooh for The P h t , p, 198, 29, In a letter of 1 January I868 to his niece, So@ A, Ivanov>discnsshg the idea of The P h t , Bostoevs~writes: "There is only one positively g o d figure in the world4hristso that the phenomenon of that boundlessly; inhitely good fiwre is already in, itself an infinite miracle, (The wboXe of the Gospel of Saint John is a statement to that effea; he finds the whole n;tiracle in, the hcarnation alone, in the mnifestation of the good alone)." 20. Tbid,

21, See Fyodor D o s t o e ~ s bThe ~ Idiot, trans, David Magarshack (New York Penpin, 1955), pp. 78,89,101-104,116,325,347,376,378; and idem, Notebooh fir TStle Idiot, pp, 181, 191. 22, Nietzsch~The Anti-Gh~se,p, 143. 23. Doslowsky, Notehoks for The Idiot, p, 239, MysMn can also arouse the hatred of those he helps to self-judgme-nt; this, for instance, is Gmya Ivolgin's reaction to him: "I hate you more than anyone. . . .X understood and hated you long ag4 when X first heard of you; I hated you with all flte hatred of my heart" (Dostoevsky, The Idiof p. 334). Cf. John: 3:20: "Faor wery one who does evil hates the light, and does not come to toe li@t." 24, Dostoevsb, The Idiog pp. 585-586, 25, Nietzsch~TheAn~-Ch&t,p, 141, (The italics are Nietzschds,) 26. Dostoevsb, Notebooks for The Idiot, p. 203. For a lengthy reAecgon on the relation b e ~ e e Myshkin's n jllness and his spiritual insight, see Bostaevsky; The Idiot, pp. 258-259, 27. Fox a detaged discussion of the yurodizyi see George Fedotov, The Russian Relitam Mind, vol. 2 (Belmont,Mass.: Nardland, 19751, chap. 12. Fedotov obsemes (p. 324) that in the cases of weral "holy fools:" one cannot decide whether one faces "real or f&e madness:" 28, Ibid., pp. 34&342. 29. One of these commentatorswas Bruce Ward, in an earlier study of Dostoevsb: See Bmce Ward, Dostoyez).sky"sri~queof the Wese The Questfor eke Eartlzb Paradise (Waterloo, Ont.: Wil.frid Laurier University Press, 19861, p. 2. 30. For Renan's reference to Jesus" '"erfect idealism,""see TStle L$e offaus, p. 383. 31. Ibid. 32. Fyodor Dostomsb, TStle UnpublishedDostoevsk3 vol. 1, ed, C,R. ProEer ( h n Arbor, Mich.: Ardis, 19732, pp. 39-41. (The italics are Dostoevsws.) 33. See, for instance, VXadimir Lossky2The Mystical neology of the Eastern Church f Lonelon: James Clarke, 19571, pp. 126127, 143-14. On the subjea of the free cooperation of the human with the divine will, k o s b writes: "The concurrence of two wills is necessary; on the one side, there is the divine and d e i ~ i n will g panting grace tfirou& the presence of the Holy Spirit in flte human person; on the other side here is the human will which submits to the will of God in receiving grace and m ~ it itsgown, and allowing it t.o penetrate a11 its namre" "id,, 12&127), For an hteresling discussion of the implications for the problem of evil (and herice for km's "Rebe1lion"")f this Eastern emfiasis on human free development towad the divine likeness, see John Hick, Evil and the Gad of Love (London: Collins, 19682,pp. 217-224, Lossky wri&s about the bstern sense of hnosis in terms very much like Dostoevsky"~ medi~tion:"As we have said many times, the perfection of the person consists in self-abandonment: the person, expresss itself most tmly in that it renounces to exist for i-lf, It is the self-empqkg of the Person of the Son, the Divine kenosis* fLossb9The Myslli;al Theology, p, 144). For a discussion. of the kenotic ideal in Russian Christianiq pa&icularly,see Pedotov, The Russian Religkus Mirad, vol. 1, pp. 390-395. 34. Dostomsky, The Idioh pp. M H 4 7 , 35. Dostowskfs wife Anna remunted this story: During the couple" visit to the Kunsmuseum in Basel, her husbmd had been transhed by the Wofbein painting. AEter a few a, finding the painting too bleak to bear, left him to go through the other rooms. m e n she retllrnect about m e n v minutes later, she found him still g a i q at &e

Dead ChPiSt, as if smmed, now standing on a chair that he had moved under the painting far a closer look. Mrorried that Bostoevsh might be on the verge of an epileptic fit-""lris agitated face had a kind of dread in, it3'--she led him by the arm out of &e room f h n a Dostoevsb, Reminiscences, trans, and ed, Beatrice Stillman [Mew York: Liveright, 19771, pp. 133-234). 36, Dostoevsky, The Unpublished L)cls~-cle.vsky; vol. 2, p. 41. 37, See Lossky, The Myshcal TheoE~g-y* p, 143. L o s e shply reaffirms that the Eatem C h r c b has always a a p t e d the ChristoXae of the two natures, human and divine, in one hypostas.is (person), as this was formulated by the Council of ChalceeIon. As I have noted, it is sufficiendy clear that on this paint also Dostoevsky is in, accord with Qfibodow. Endeed, dthough the precise degree of "Orthodoq" in Dostoevsky's uderstanding of Christ might well remain open to interpretation and debate (even among Eastern Christian scholars), I think that at the very least it can be conduded that his Chist does not depart in any significant way from the Eastern Zheological tradition. In my vietv, this is evident from a y careh1 reading of his mditation, in conjunction with, say, hssky's mgisterial account of me Mysgcal Theology of h e Emtern Church (especiallychapters 6 and 7). 38. Cf. VXadimir Solavov, "Tri recbi v pamyat' Dostoevskago:" in Sobranie sotlhinenii? vol. 3-4, p. 183, Solovyov writes: "This central idea, which Dostoevsb served in alI his activities, was the Christian idea of a free ecumenic union of urzivtrsaf.brotherhood in, the n m e of Christ, Bostoevsky was preaching this idea when he spoke of the true Church, of ecumenic Or&odaq.'" 39, See Bostoe\asb>The Brothers Karamam, p. 61, where Father Pslissy asseas, "Our Lord Jesus Christ came precisely to establish. the Church on earth." The community of children, having its basis in a shared devotion to the memory of the boy Ilpsha Snegiryov, is a microcosm of the order that has its basis in the God-mn. The simultaneous a,ffirmation of humm beings as unique persons and as mmifes&tions of a common humanity is expressed in Myosha's speech by Ilpsha's stone: "Qive you my word . . .that for my part T wifl never forget any one of you; each face that is lookng at me now, at this moment, T will remember. . . .You are all dear to me. , . , From now on I shall keep you all in my heart, and T ask you to keep me in your hearts, too! Well, and who has united us in this good , . . feeling which we . , , intend to remember always, all our lives, who, if not Ilpshechlra . . .that boy dear to us unto ages of qes! Let us never fofogel:him, and may his memory be eternal" (775). 40. Doslowsky, The Unpublkhed Dostoe.vsk~vaZ. 1, pp, 39-40, 41. Ibid., p. 41. 42. Ibid. 43. See David E, Aune, Revelation 1-5 f Ddlas: Word, 1997),p. 373, M. Ellis Sandoz, E)82idcat Illpocraf~se:A S&dy of DostoevskyWrand Inquisitor (Baton Rouge: Lauisima State University Press, 197l), p, 90.f. 45, For Zerkegaaras discussion of contemponmeiq, see Ssren Kierkegaard, Prwzr"ce in Chrisdaniy, eds. H, Hong and E. Hong (Prhceton: Prhceton Uniwrsity Press, 2991), no. 1, especially pp. 3-6. As a Christian poet of spiritual causaliq, Dostowsky would have appreciated the following co nt by E;ierkegaar& "Christ is no play-actor, if E may say this sobedy; nei&er is he a merely historical person, since as the paradox [God-man) he is an mremely unhistoricd person. But this is the diEerence bemetzn poetry and acmdity: conltcrmporaneity, The diEerence b e ~ e e npoetry and history is surely this, that history is

what actutrally happened, whereas poetry is flte possble, the imagined, the poetized, But that which has amaay happened (the past) is still not, except in a certain sense (namely* in contrast to poetry), the amal. The qudification that is lacking-which is flte qudificaition of truth (as hwarhess) and of all religiousness is-for you. The past is not actuality-for me. Only the contemporary is acmaliq for me, That with which you are living simultaneously is actuality-for you. Thus every human being is able to become contemporary only with the time in which he is living-and then with one more, with Christ's life upon earth, for Christ's life u r n earth, the sacred history, stands alone by itself, outside hhtory" f Zbid,, pp, 63-64). This, says Kierkegaard, renders all didac7t-icmordizing about Christ in Christianiq the most "un-Christian of d l heresies"-a comment with which Dostoevskyts art is in M1 agreement. Dostomsky" work as an author, like Kierkegaard"~, is devoted to the question of what it means to become a Christian. 46. The Grand Inquisitor is modeled after the notorious Spanish Tnquisitor-Generd, Torquemad%an austere and ascetic Dominican monk d o s e politkal powers &ring the last decade of the fifteenth cenmry were unequaled, For this reason he was heaGly armed and lived in mravagtant palacm. According to Michad Baigent and Richard high, The Inqraisilrion (New York V&ing, 19991, Dostoevsws portrait is as aaurate as my historim's or biographer's. Et Ivads seeing, although Spanish, hplies a Counterreformatioxl context closer .to the Papd, or Roman, Inquisition, The latter was modleled on its Spmish counterpart but spearheaded by the Jesuits to ensure the political stab2iv of the papacy and the Roman church in the skteenth cexlwry; 47, See Zerkqaard, Prach'ce in GJzrisislianz'~;y, no, 2. 48. Ssren Kierkegmrd, The Sickness trirto Death: A Chrishan Psyeholtlgicurl Eqosihan for Upbuilding and Awc~kening;d s . and trans, Howard Hong and Edna Hong (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19801, pp. 73-74, 49, Ssrcrn Gerkegaard, The Concept ofAnxiep; A $imp& Psychobgically Orienting Deliberadon on the Dogma~cIssue ofHereditary Sin, eds. a d trans. "X: n o m t e and A, h d e r son (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 19801,p. 125. 50, Ibid., p. 128. Buber dso charaaerizes "the demonic You for whom nobody c m bewme a You" as the isolated ego of the mmologist, flte one who r e h e s to be a sdf in relation to the diafogical d i ~ n power e that establishes it (and others) as a s&, and therefore defiantly refuses the freedom of voluntary reciprocity. See Martin Buber, 1@andThou, trans. W Kaufnnann (Mew %rk: Scribners, 1970), p. 117f. 52. See the mquisjte meditation on love, death, and the silent Christ in John's gospel, in s Jesus and Socrates: Word and Silence (Mew Haven: Yale UniverPaul Gooch, R g e c ~ o n on sity Press, 19961, chapter 6. Goocgs refleaions give insight into the Christian spiritual causaliv that also informs Dostoevsws art: "Words come to heir end in flte sjiXenl3e of fesus, who handed over in obedience his inabgity.to sort out the meaning of the will of the Father md his own motivations. Words reach their limit in prayer, as we take up an elemental relation of address and attention toward God*In our atkmpts at obedient listening to God, our ovvn words get in, the way; we have to quieen our hea*, discern the signs, heed the unmnditional c41 of God even in our sugering, So much of the self is constiw e d in lanpage that our wglingness to hand over all of our scheming and concepualizing, and to deposit our wry beings into flte divine care, cannot be better =pressed than as a dykg. h d now t gimpse it: that dying is no&fng but prayer, nolkilllg but obedience, nothing but love" (Ibid., p. 304).


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The Adukscmt, Trans, Andrevv R. Machdrm. liim York: BouMehy, 1972, The Brothers Karamamv. Trans. %chard Pevear and Larissa VoIabonsb. New Erork: Vintage, 1990. Ca~npEetel;ell;ers, VOX,5, Ed. and traas, David Lowe, h n , Arbor, Mich.: Ardis, 1991. Crime and Punishment. Trams. Richard Pevear and Larissla V o l o b o n s ~New . b r k : VinQge, 31993. Demons, Trams, Echard Pwear and Larissla WloUonsky. New York: afied A, Knopf, f 994, The House of rshe D e d . Trans, David McBuE. Mew York: Penguin, 1985, The Idiot, Trans, David Magarshack, Hew York: Penwin, 31955. The Itdotehoksfor The Brothers Karamazav, Ed. and trans, Mward Wasioliek. Chiago: University of Clrimgo Press, 1971. The Nokboohfor Crime and Punafhment. Ed, and trans, Mward WasiaIek. Chicago: h i versity of Chiago Press, 1967. The Notebookfor Tlze Idht, Ed. Edward Wasi~Iek,t r m . Katherine Strelsky. Chiago: University of Chicago Press, 1967. The Notebooks ffo The Possessed (Demons]. M.Edward Wrasiotek, trans, Victor Terras. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1968, The Noliebook fir A Raw Youth [ m e Ad~~Iescmt].M. Mward Wasidek, trains, Victor Terras. Chicqo: Universiq of Chicago Press, f 969. Mota from the U ~ d e r p u n dTrans, . lane Kentish, Qdord: &ford. Universiq Press, 1991, Selected FRn;ers ofiFyodor fist-oevsky Eds, fosephF r d and D a ~ I,d GoIdstei~l,trans. Amdrew R, MacAndrw. London: RuQers Universiq Press, 1987. 1).3 vols. M, C. R, Proffer, trms. T. S. B e r c v k , B. H. Montu, A. Boyer, and E. ProEer, hhbor, Mich.: M i s , 1973,

Winer Notes on Summer Impressio~s,Trans, R. L, RenfieId, N.p,: Criterion, 1955, A Wri~c?r's Diav, 2 vols. Traas. Kenneth hntz. Evanstsn, 111.: Northwestern Universiq Press, 1994.

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Thompson, Diane Bexlning. 1991, ?"he Brolhers Karammov and the hetics of Memory, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Toale, Bavid, 1998. Wailz"rtgforGo&$ in Sarajew: ?"heo?oEr?gicaERefleclions on Nihilz'sm, Traged~and tlpocralypse. Boulder: Westview, Torraxzce, 7:F, 1957. ""Lturgie et Apocalypse*'' erbum Caro I I, pp. 2840. Vassiliadis, Petros. 1997. "Iftyocalypse and Liturgy." St. EadimirS T7seoZogcat Quar;eerly l 112-3, pp. 95-2 22. Voegelin, Eric, 1952. The New Science ofPolirics, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, . 2990. "ImmortaZity: Experience and Symbol." In The Collected Works a( Eric Voegelin, vol. 12, ed, Hlis Sandoz. Baton Rouge: Louisima State University Press. Walicki, h d r z e j , 1929, A Hkeory ofazrssian TjCtougha From the E~Eigh;eenmentto M~misna. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Ward, Bmce K, 1986,Dostoyez)sky5 Criggue ofl-he West: The Qldestfor the Earthly Pardise, Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid kaurier University Press, ,1994, ""Dostoevsky and the Problem of Meaning in History.'"n Dostoez)sky~ n the d Twendeth Ce~tury,eed. Malcotm V. Jones. Rlonhgham, U.K.: M r a . Ware, bltistos. 1974, "The Spiritual Father in Orthodox Christianiq.'Tms C~rurrmts, We11ek Rexle, ed, 1962. Dostoevsky: A Crotlection of CrigcaE Essays. EngXewoad Cliffs, H,].: Prentim-Hall, Wrigbr, N,'f: 5996, Jesus and t-he Victory #God. MinneapoXis: Fortress, Uoder, f ahn Haward, 1992. BotZy PoZz?cz"cs:F i ~ ePrach'ces of the C h ~ s ~ G a no m m u n i Before ~ the Wgtching World. Nashville: BiscipIeship Resources. . 1994. R e R o p t Prl"est.hood:Essays Ecclesiological and Ecumenical Ed, Michael Camright. Grand Rapids, Micb,: WfiIiam B, krdmaxzs,

Index

Absurdity, I 68,206,2 18 Adektsmnt, The (hsloevsky), 69,7 1,94(n 171, 163 Agape, t 69-1 70,230fn20) See &Q h e Alienation, 2, IQ, 125, 128, 139, 1185 See &a Isofation, "All is Permimd: 15, 325-122,125, 129(n7), 164, 190, 197,202,233(n42), 237(n69), 260 See aljo Freedom; Ivan K a r a m w ; Srnerdydm A~?rx"-CrkrrisZ, T h ( N i e ~ h e )246248 , Anbropolagy; 109 Chrislian, 154 258 See &Q Human Nature An&ropaphagy, 159 162,186;,229(n16) A M y p r i c , 2 4 25,38,210, 230(n22) as Art, 4,5,9-1Q,23 and Mebphysics,23, f OO, 188 and Rrable, 31 (n24) and Poetics, 5, 1Q, 14,2 1 , s1(n24) and Prophecy; 4,14,104-l 05 See aljo Pmpheq and Rwelation (Boak of Bible), 16,21,91, B, 102, l IO,I29(n13), 130(n171,183 See aljo khatofo@; Revelation ( b o k of Bible) Scientific; 25,27, 125 and Symbolism, 9,122 Aquinas, Saint a o m a s , 158, 164 Armdt, Hannah, 57,534(n51I, 209-21 l, 225,235fn49, n52,n57),236(n57) Arisotle, 17-I8,2X, 61,96(n39) Amticism, 1%-14,16-.17,26,27,79,1881--82,115, 118, 130(n19), 169,2053,23t (n24), 265(n46) See &Q Monaslicism Asisi, St, Francis of 78,85 AtheLm, 23,2&27,38,78,101, l 35, l 37,14 1,143, I50-.152,178(n62), 182,227(nf ), 243,248

Auerbach, Eric, 18,30(n20) AurZxority, &clesiastical, 62, 127, 190-191,2 f 2,230(n2 1 ) Messianic, t 02-1 05, l ~6,139,1185,194-195,214, 221,260 Palitiel, 61, 183, 199,208, 2 12 and Rwejation ( b k of able), 107-108 See ako, Christ Babe], Tower of, 63,67,75, IQ:2,185,227(n1) Babylan, tOQ,102, f05-la6,127,188 B&htin, Mikhail2,15,18,29(n14, nf8), 30(n20), 141, l50,175(n29) See ako: Myphony BaucMhan, Richard, I l0,179(nl$f Bmoming 73,165 See ako, Self Bdinsky, Vissarion, 69,94(n 1 B), 243-24 Befknap, Xjloberg 131(n28), 212,217,223,229(nl5), 239(n78) Badyaw, Wichofas, 35,38,142 Bmard, CEaude, l 2 f Bqond G d and Evil (Nietmhef, 145,15 I, 171 Binding and hosing. See Chrisl; Confaion; Consdenm; Forgiveness Biake, WiUiam, 3 l(n24),14 li B o b ~ k(Dosl~vsky),162-1 63 Bonhoeger, Diesrich, 127 h b e r , Martin, 3, %L@,265fnSOf hclrte, KT,, 66 Caesar, lulius, 188,24 1 See also Roman Empire; Tyranny Caesaropapism, 182-1 83 Caird, G.B., 105-1 Q6,129(n131,185 Carnu%Alberl; 35,74,94(n I5),103,141

C a n 8 de Ahaareg Meten, 228(n9) Cawdiry, I8,21-22,3X(n2f ), 32(n24), 41 A ~ l p p r i e 25,32tn24,27) : rational, 31fn21 ), 123,229(n15) Sado-Historical, 2 18 Spiriwal, 20-23,25,82,92, B, l W, 103, 306, l 12, I16,121,124,132(n39), 196,215,218, ;?29(n15),230(n22),257,2W26 1,264(n45) See d o , Cosmology; Pravidena; Science Cemantes, Miquef de 12,247 Chasrjty, 132(n35) Children, 1 6 1li 3, l 20-1 22,127,207-208,2 12-227 See also Family; Fatherhood Christ, Jesus, 25,36--37,62,85,87,92,94(n 18), 107, 129(nl2), 139,147,1~185,187,211,221, 228(n8, nff), 239(n82fS241-243,247-252, 25&256,25%261,262(nl& n13, n l9), 264;(n37,n38), 265(n45, n5 I authofiq of, see a& Auth'horily imageof, !7,27,37,63,IOCf, 104,108,11Q--112, 117,193a3, 2a0,227(n1), 229(nI 5) as k m b , see, L m b Law of, 5,23,26,82,198,206,2 10 Love, 4,17,24,1 l2,132-f 33, t 39,198,230(n2 t f, 231(n27), 244 and Niemche, 248-252 Parables of, 19,2 1 as Saviour, 103,109,119,122,138,185,188,226, 295 as Servant, 114,221,229(n14) Silence af, 6,32(n26), 37-38,77-78, 104, 110, 128fn5), 138,2143,214,241-242,25S258, 265(n5 1) Sugefing love, 32(n28), 36,99,107,131 (n25), 145, 227,29(n14) T m w t i o n of, 37,5% I, 6%4,1 0 4 102-1 03, 106--109,116, 139,163,187-588,210 as LZiord, See Word Christianity, 25, 30(n21),36 61,6749,7&77,7%80, 82-86,88-90,92-93,104,122,132(n35), 144, 146,149,152,157,Itil, 16/1,197,206,200,251, 224 225,227(n l), 230(n22), 232(n29), 235(n49, n57), 250,252,263/n33} Church, 62,79,85-86,183,186-187,l89, 194,211,249 Church/S&te, 182- 183,19 f,25 I Colossians f Book af Bibtef, l 9,197 Community, 16, 17,25,27,6243,85,87-89, 102, 10&108,114-f 15,128(n7), 183,185,191-192, 199,205,2 1l, 2 18,22f ,22&226,23Q(n20), 234(n49h 237(n66), 252,261,264(n38} See d o , Christianity Compmion, 139,143, 156,174(n20}, 177(n57), 2 10-2 11,235(n52) See aljo Love; Merq Confession, 192, I%,2 li 2,220,224,23 1(n24) See alsa Forgiveness; Penitence Conscience, 16,32(n28), 6143,72,108,117,122, 126- 127, 144-145,178(n64), 179(n64),

18&I88,191-192,197,199,20%208,213,216, 229(n13), 230(n23), 231(n23), 251,253, 258-260 See ako, Indi~duality;Self Cwns&oufne@ 16,17,29(n 1 8), 3 1(n24), 86,105, 11Q, 112,145,155,16%166,192,225, 252 Cwrinthians I (Book of Bilafe),21,23,25,32(n28), 190, 225,229(n20), 230(n20), 235(n57), 249 Cwrinthians I1 ( b k of Bible), 19,23 Cwsmolag;y, 16-15,243,824 Biblical, 14 ScienenriGc, 15, 123 See abo Causality Crlvne a d PmGhmenr (Dosmvsbf, 75,144 Crossan, John hminic, 21, 31 (n24), 32(n27)1 Cmcifixian, 36,103,107, l 19,183,185,188,2025,226 See ako Resumection, k v e

Dane (Alighieri), 3,4,7(n6), 158,242 Dearh,4,14,18,2&21,2425,10I-102,1W, 114-116, 11% 125s 155,163,183-1&1, 186,189,191-192, 21&222,224,238(n75), 242,25%264 265(n5 1) afGod, 74,77,146,151-152,153,156,212 D ~ ~ o( DM O S W V S ~74,76,83,91-92,144,173, ) 178(n63}, 244 Despair, 31(n24},&1,123,205,2f3-214,223,233(n39), 238(~72),257-258 Devil ( S a ~ n )2, 4 22,26,1433,107,1W , 123-126, 130(n19, n21 ), 132(n38, n39), 141,152-553, 155,165,176(n&), 887-188,191,193,195,202, 214,222,233(n42), 234(n42),236(n62), 244, 258 Dialecrics, 132(n3l), 135,221 Dialogicat, 7,10, 16,29(n 181, M(n201, I03,229(n 16) Divine Rule, 16.1,184,187,134,197-198,206,226, 230(n;?0) Dasmvsb, Fyndor, 10, 1S, 23,3 X (n24), 38,72,77, 8%-84,87-92,97fn47), 110, 118, 137, 141, 144, 1S@t52,162, 865-167,171, t78(n64), 183-182, 194,2Q8,210,233(n35),2356n57)1,241,243, 262(n17, n19) and Christ, 245-251,25$,264(n37) poetics, 4,5,12,17-I8,21-22,26,29(n 18), 31(n241,35,7Q,75,lW,102,105,1t2,141,150, 156,170,172,175(n36), 261 propheic art, 4, W ,11, 1%-l4,16--18,21-23,26, 31(~24),35,38,57-58,86,93,112,141, 150 as hophet, 1-3,9, t3, 16,28, 35,38,57,59,65,75, "i",84,87,90,102,112,162,210,256,265(n51) meologiml Vsion, 4, 10,83, 8%%, 11Q, 118, 144, l 50-152, 167,1718178(n64),210,231 (n23), 24 1 Dragon, symbot of, 102, 105,107,120,183,255 Earth, 173,2f l, 230(n22) Eastern O d o d o x Ckfishnity, 29(n 14), 32(n26), 38, 7&84 90--91,106,130fnt7),1 Mfn33), 152,

193,208,231(n27), 244,247,250-251,25%254, 263(n33), 264(n37, n38) Egoism, 15,24,26, l 13,121-122,13X(n28), 158-1 59, 161-163,165-165,16%172,183,197, 219, 222, 232(n29, n34), 254-255 See aljo IndZdualiq; Self Eliot, George, 196 Eliot, T.S., 6 Enti&Cenmenl, 63,160,181,203,228(n8) See also Sciene Equality; S, 58,64-65,70,73,7&77, B&%, 88, W(n 17),96Cn39), 138, 145,148,176(n37, n&), 217,227(nl), 232(n29), 233(n49), 252 See d o Justica: E m , 101, 113, I 16, 16%170,203,212,219,227 See d o h e & c h a t o ! ~ , 24,26,31 (n24), 32(n26), 70,86,105--105, 114,118,126,129(n13), 134(n51) See aljo Apocalyptic E&ics, $9,114,121,145,181-183,l~ Sae &o Vjnue Eucli45, 19,25,80,82, 10&101, 103, 125, 149, 152, 16I,189,202,2t3, 246, 259 Eucjidean Jusrice, 5 Eucjidean Reafism, 15, 28, l 01 Fairh, 6, 18,22,25, &67,72,75,78,92-93, 101, IQP-.IQ%110-1 11,116,122,125,132(n35), 135, 14X,145,15f-l53,156-t57,159,16I, 167,169, 172,178(n63), 196-8 97>2 f 4a2 f 8, 2203225, 245, 262(n7)1 Famiii)t, 16,24--25,111,127,131(n28), 201,208 See also Children; Fatherhood Famr, Austin, 229(n l41 Facism, 58,95(n39) Fatherhwd, 16,113-1 14,118,127,1 51, 195,202, 2&207,2 16 Fedotov%Gmrge, 250,263(n27) Ferapnl, Father, 16,2&27,32(n24), 79,13O(n 191, 152-1 53,177fn53) FewkoGch, 201,2*209, 232(n32), 233(n35), 244 Frrumbach, l46,234(n47) Forgiveness, 17,102,111, l 13, l 19,208,222-223,226, 248,25&260 See aljo Christ; Confession; Mercy; Penitace Fourier, Charles,bB, 234(n47} Frank, Ioeph, 7(n6) Freedom, 6, 16,37,57,60--65,73,75,78,80-84,88-89, 102,1Q(i,122,125-126,138,15&171,185--188, 19&191,2t3,217,228(n13), 229(n20f, 230(n2 l), 233(n42), 234(n49), 243,251-253, 25&260 af Conscience, 62-63 See also L,&eny French Rmludon, 63,182,2W2 1l, 231(n28), 232(n28), 234(n47) See aljo Arendt; Hqel Friedman, Richard, 152

Galalians (Book of Bibtef, 107,206 G e h g y ofh/lor&, The fNiemhe), 176(n47), 230 (n23),233(n42), 234(n42) Genesis (Book of Bible}, 142,185,239(n84) Girard, Rm6,112-113,1,15,131 (n30), 238(n74) Gad, 6,9-IQ, 13,15,19,2f, 23-26,31(n24), 32(&6), 6?48,79,81,87, %92, 101, 108, 110, 112, 118-119,121,129(n7), 133(n45), 143,151, 154-156,158,165, 169,173,178(n62), 197, 199, 227(n1l, 238(n74), 239(n77), 265(n51) Gadman, 115,226,241,243,254,257-260f262(n7), 264(n313, n4S) Goethe, johann, 3,126,232(n3X) Gagof, Niblay; 202 Gaoch, Pad, 265(n51 ) Goodness, 71,112,19I, 210 G r m , 102,117,141,253 Grdovsky, Alexander, 18t ,227(n 1) Grand Incfuisirar, 5,6,9, 11, 13, 14, 15,32(n25), 35-37, 38-56357-60,62-G6,69,73,75-78,8&82, 88-89,92,93, l 00-1 06,108-1 10,122,124,127, 128(n3, n5), 132(n34), f 38,140,142-143, 147-7--I48,151,153--f54,161,175(n42, n44), 183-189,191, 193,f96,2W212,214,225, 228(n13), 229(n 15, nI7), 230(n2 l), 233(n@), 234(n49), 235(n49),236(n58), 237(n63), 241-2452 24%246,251,25%259 Grant, George, 95(n31)),96(n39), 174(n20) Guilt, 17, 117,208,2 16 k g d , 194 200,23O(n23) MoraI, t 79(n01-1, 187,207-208,2 19 See also Conscience; Law; F'enilena Guroian, Vigen, 106,22&(n7) Hachl, krgei, 32(n26) Happiness, 5,16--1l , 15,18,27,29(n 15),37,65,71-72, 75,80,89, 101, 10% 15$161i, 168,185,188,198, 259 Hannon)~,29(n 1S), 2 13-2 f 4,23S(n49) Hauemas, Stnnlq, 174(n20), 177Cn57) H e b m (Book of Bible), 19,197 He&, Cearg Wfhem, 5,58, M 2 , M 7 , 6 % 7 3 , 7 7 , 84,85,95(n26), 96(n39), 114, 132(n31), 145, 234(n47), 243,253 Heidegger, Maflin, 2,35, I"i"(n3Qf Hell, 101, 117, 153, 157, 163-164 See also Devil; Xsatarion H m e n e u l i a of Suspidon, 135-141,143,150--15 f , 153-154, l57,169,172 See also Freud; Nierzschs Ricaeur History, 5, 10,12,14,24,3Q(n20), 311n21) 32(n24), 37, 57-40, 62-63,67,69,78,85--86,88-89,9 B-93,

103,130(n17), 1W(n51), 138, 145,165, 18&i--187,245j254,264(n45), 265(n45) End of, 58,62, M5,71-72, W, 2 12 Philosophy of, &67,7&73,8W7 sac=& 18,29(~ l6), 87-89,9 1,186 Hitler, Adolf, 5&--59,76 Hobbes, mamas, 96(n39) H o b i n , Hans, 25S254,263(n35), 264(n35) Holy Spirir, 85--86,106,213,263fn33) Home ofthe DC&, 77te (Dastmsky), 168 X-fug&,%clor, 7(n6), 242 Humanism, 15,30(n21), 121,138-139,141,144-145, 147- 148,153,182,246,252 Secular, 5, 15, 173 Human Nature, 15,24, -5,763, 102-1 03, 108, 182, 187,213,255,234(n49) Fallen, 18,24, 111-1 I2 See also Self Hume, David, 68 HumiliaGon, 174 223-224 Humility, 32(n28), 126, 191,22%226,227(n 1), 23f (n24), 248 See &c? mos.if

l d b &The (nostom$kyf,75, 144, 177(n62),178(n64), 247-249,253,262(n19), 263(n23] Idolatry, 23,105,107-1 08,112, 114, I 16,229(n18), 238(n74), 239(n77) See &c? Lies Immtartiltil& 9,15,111,114,117,121-122,129(n7), 134(n51), 154--t63,165--169,171--173,176(n37, ~ $ 2 1"i"8(@), )~ 182,196198,211,218, 227(n 1 ),255,26 1 See &c? God Inamation, 36,254,260 See &a Christ; K m $ & Individudity, 63-64,8W9,93(n7), 144-145,161, 209, 251-253,255 Ippliz, 202,207,209,233(n35, n38), 254 Irenaeus, 253 Isaiah (Book of Xlibtef,32(n25), 105, 234(n77), 239(n75) Isolation, 20,27,8 t , 112 See nlso AlienaG-ion;Hdll Je&q, D a ~ 7(nA 4 n5), 29(n 17),30f n 1 9) Jet.emi& (Bwk of Bible), 105, 114 Jerusalem, 100,102,110,117-I 18,120-122,127-1 28, 139, 184,189,212,228(n11) Joachism, 85--87,97(n50) See also A_pocalypti~ )fistaft.. Job, 68,82, t 07,153,22&225 John of Patmas, 23, 102-1 Q4,110,129(n12,n 131, 130(n20), 185-186,195,229(n 18) See &c? Revelation ( B w k of BiMe) Johannine Thmlw, 14,29(n14), 130(n20, n2 l), 185 John, Gospel of ( k k of Bible), 7(n51, 13, 19,21,93, 117,119,130fn16),183,fs$,189,195,24X,255,

262(n 19),265(n51)

John rhe Elaptist, 104,256 Ion& (Book of Biil>lef,11t Jonas, Hans, 155-1 56,l76(n42), 178(n64) J u d p e n k 193, f 95 See also Justice Justice, DMne, 5,6,9, 82,1&102,106, 115-116,126-127, 158,183,196 199,211,250 kg&, 1 6 , 2 3 , 1 f 2 0 9 Liberal, 9,103, 12t ,185, 19I, 200,204,209 Proadural, 16 Ratorative, 183,185, 190, I f 2 0 4 206207,222, 226 Reribuliw, 17, 100, 10;2, 107, 110, 116, 121, 127-I28,132(n34), 151-1 53,157,183,18%194 193,199,204,206,222-223,229(n 14) Secular, 5,9,82,99,100, IQ3,127,129(nIQ), 141,

147-148,160,161,183,186--187,1933195,20Q, 20&205,20&209,2 17,233(n35),239(n75), 239(n80) See ako Forgivmess; Kingdom of God Kank Jmmanuef, 71-72,96(n39), l46,239(n47) Karamamv, Alyosha, l 1, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17,2 I, 25,27, 29(n16), 32(n25, n28), 36--37,6748,77,80,82, IQI-Im, 110,113,115--118,121-124,126-127, 128(n6), 130(n19), 1M(n38, n39, n41), 134(n47, n48), 139-I@, 143,154-1 55,161, 163,176(n&), 179(nM), 183,192-193,196 198- t 99,202-203,205,209,2 12-223,227(n l ), 232(n31), 236(n59), 237tn62, n63), 238(n72), 239(n8 t ), 241-243,%6,25 1,253,255-256 258, 260--2613254(n39) Karamamv, Dmitfi (Mitya), 31 (n24), 32(n28), 103, 114 114-1 16,I1&123,125,130(nl9), 1324n31, 1334,n39), 133(n43, n44, n45),134(n47f, I@, 165,176(n&), 177(n53), 192,194,1%, 198-201,20S208,2 16,223,230(n22), 231(n25), 232(n30,n331>233(n38, ~391, 236(n58, nfi;?),238(n71), 239(n8t f, 261 Karamamv, F-yodor, 18,22,80, 101,113,115, 118, 130(n19), 132(n31), 144,155,160, 161, 363-364, l94195,198,280,202-203,26207, 233(n36), 239(n8t ) Karamamv, Xvan, 5,11,13, 14,15,22,28fn113), 36,37, 38267-70372, 75, 77,8Q, 82,84--8% 93, 101-102, IWt06,11&15 1,113,115-1 16, 123-1 25,128(n5,~6,~7), 129(n7), 13 1(n22), 13X(n25, n28), 1M(n34, n35), 139-144, 146--148,150-f53,155,15%162,16/1,165,169,

175(n37), I"i"(n37),178(n64), 179(n&), 1%I85,187,190, 196-.199,203-203,252-214, 21&2f9,225,228(n8,~9, nl I), 229(n20), 231(n27), 232(n29, n30, n34),233(n36, n42), 234(n42), 236(n58, n59), 237(n62,n63, n69), 238(n72), 239(n8 11,241-243,245-246,251, 254,256,258-261,261 (n6) Kmosk 114- 1I5,185,253,256,26&261,263(n33) See ako ChGst; Humiliry; InamaGon

IChokhl&ov, &Erin% 111,131(n25), 134(n48), 155, 159,169-1 70,196,20&201,2 18,23ft(n71, n72) IChokhl&ov, Lie, 2 18-219,238fn71, n72), 239fn81) Kierkegaa4 bren, 21, 141, 199,213414,218, 225--226,228(n8), 236(n60), 237(n63, n a ) , 238(n70), 239(n79, n82, n83),25&258, 264(n45, n65) Kingdom of GodlHeaven, 2 1,32(n26), 86, 10 4 105, 108, 115, 145, 149, 151, 153, 161, 164, 188,211, 221,;?25,228fn91,231(n27),245,253 See aljo Authority; God; Jrrstice; Pruvidena Knapp, LCa, 23 Knight of Faith, 2 17-21 5 221,238(n72) Kc?jE-ve,Ale-xander,-5,255 Kraso&in, Kotya, 127, 163,209,2 12,2 14-222,224, 236fn58,n59), 237(nSS, n67, n69) Kutuzov, Grigory, 11&--l 19,123,133(n4$), 134(n49), 160,169,17"i4n62), 192,204 233(n39) Lmb, syrnbot of, 14,16,27,1Q1-102,104,IW108, 1l@-l l '#,I15, 117-1 18,122,127-128,183, 185- 18%212,221,22&226,228(n l I), 229(n14), 255 See d o Christ LW, 68,252 DiGne, 12,24,191-192,260 Moraf, 233(n42), 260 See d o Justice Lw(s) of Idamre, 15,25--26, l 16, 122, 159, 162, 166, 197,244,254 See aljo Cawdity; Nature Lmms, t 28(n6), 184 Liberdism, 58-55), M6,72--73,77,8%8t, 8%-84,813, 93(n7), 9S(n25),96(n39), 122, 176(n37), 244 See aljo Justim; Modernity Libeq, 65,95(n25), 176(n37), 232(n29), 233(n49), 25f-252 See d o Freedom Lies (Untruth), 6,23, 125, 138, 148, 158, 18&188, 190, 195,217,238(n75), 239(n8Q) and Truth, 17,183,184,187,195, 196,224 See aljo Devil; Xdafatv Lion, Symbol of, 14,16,72,185 Lirura, 26,104- lQ6,122,130(nf 71,194 bcke, khn, 71,96(n39) bssky, Vladimir, 263(n33), 264(n371 h e , 5,6,26,11&113, 115, 119,128, 133(n41), 139, 145,149,154,163,165,170--173,17S)(n01), 181, 192,211,218-215 221,223,228(nX4), 230(nZO), 2% as Acti.ve, 17, 178(nM) Divine, t 7,21,24,26,37,68, 1Q;2,107-1 W, 111-1 12,115,117-1 18,123,128(n6), 132(n33), 147,164,171-172,185,188,192,195--196,

t98,

21 1,222,231 (n23, n27), 238(n74), 2513-261 of Family, 206 of God, 4,37,68, l 39 of HumanitylN&&hbour;5-6,23,37,68,70,102, ll1,131(n22,n25), 138,139,140,142-143,

145-146,147-549,151,153-154,157,159,163,

166,1694 7Q,178(nM), 183,196, l W, 204,2 1 1 of Life, 120 of Mankind, 13,115,142,159 Rdem pfive, 1Q7 Serving>1Its Sexual, t 6%170 S u e r i n g 14,26,32(n28), 1W, l 13,120,185 of Wrld, 239(n83) Ldlhrich, Qrl, 69 Luke (Baok of Bible), 2 4 31 (n24), 194,257 Lucher, Maain, 61,63,89,177(n53) Madness, 177(n57), 24%250,263(n27) Manpd, 149,241 Mark Gospet of (Baok of Biiblef 20,1Q4,185,228(n9) Marriage, 24, 115,117,189 See abo Family; Love Mar% &rl, 66,69,76,8X, 145,159,2234(n47) Mat&afism, 16,25-27, 75,80-8 1,92,229(n 1S), 230(n22) Manhew G a q d of (Book of Bibtef, 6,20,32(n25), 37, 5-4 63--M, 68,100, 11t ,119,205,207,2 11, 221-222,225--225,233(n41), 239(n82f, 256 Memory, 2 f ,24,27-29(n 16),30fn 1 9, n2 1 ), 99,127, 154,163,191-192,2t 1,223,231(n23) Chrislian, 3, 18,25,30f n2 f ), 99 See aka Forgivmess; Merecy Menlal Illness, 123 Mercy, 2Q8,224,228(n 1 l), 234(n42) MeyendorE John, 182 Millon, John, 126,141 Mimesis, 30fn20f, 111, l 13-1 15,183,212,238(n74), 256 Minear, Paul, 100 Miracles, 37,6142,102-1 05,107-1 08,118-1 19,127, 131(n22, nM), 1M(n391, 133(n4$f,139,1184, 191,214,218,242 See ako Causality; Faith Miumv, Pyotr, 162-164,194,196,231 (n25), 232(n30) Modemit5 2,4, S, 9,15,20,38,57-58,63,65, 72,133, 88,125,141-142,144-1451156, 18I,200 See ako Enti&tennmr; Liberalism; %ience Monastickn, 13,15- 17,27 77-79,8 1-83,85,115,182, 198--I93,202,220,227(nI), 231(n27), 239(n83), 256 See ako BLfCdicism Morafily, 30(n2I), 18t Christian, 145-147, 150-151, 167,234(n42),245 See also Ethics Murder, 17-1 8,22,81,102-103,113-114,119,123, 126, 143,168,195,204,2077208, 2 f l, 2 16, 224 Myrev, 19,62,102,105,108,127,139,172,2 14, 228(n 10) See ako Faith Myticism, 153,20&207,224 233(n371

Divine, 24 Fallen, U, 26,30fn2 l ) NW Tesammt, 9, 19,86,92, 144, 147, 153,206,211, 228(n8), 23Qtn2f), 256,261 Nietzsehe, Friedrich, 5,57,73--77,95(n32), 96fn31)), 114, 135-137,141-159,162,164-166,169-173, 174(n20), 175(n42, n47), 179(n66, n73, n74), 179(n74), 191-192, 212,230(n23), 231(n23), 233(n42), 234(n42),24&251,254,262(n13, ~151, Nihilism, 14-i5,74,75,78,84,88,95(n32), 146,173, 178(n&), 244,246 Notes From 772e ZXndergrourtd (Dosrmsky), 66,70, 112-113,136-137, 144, 870-171 Nothingness, l l(i8 Obedience, 15-16, M4,81,83,108, 111, 125, li J$(n47), 148, t 53,192, 198,218,226, 238(n2 1), 265(n51) See aljo Authoriry; Faith; Virt:ue @Donovan, Oliver, 92,95(n39), 126 OBense, 223,225,239 (1179, n82), 25&259 Order, 6$i,88,2341n49), 254 Divine, 101,184-185 Political 38,6Q, 64,67,73, 10;2, 130(n171, 182, 18&187,208,212,227(nI) 251 Pain, 192,223 Paissy, F;irher, 27,86,117,187,264(n39) Pamdy, 22,104, 106-l 10,125-127,177(n62), 183--184, 189-196 195,212-214 Parricide, 114, I29(n7), 198,20&208 See &U F a t h e r h d rvlurder Paul, Apostle, 2 1,23,18 1,l W, 205,229(n20), 235(n57), 238(n74),249 Peace, Richard, 19l,207,23Q(n22) Penitence, l t0-l 11, li 17-1 18,134(n45), 192,194,lB, 233(n39) See aljo Conscience; Forgveness; Guilt Philantbmpb 138 Philipphns (Book of Bible), 114, 197 Pilate, 24 1,256 Piato, 61,96fn39), l 12, 162, 167, 187,218,225, 236(n57) Polyphony; 2,29(n18), 141 See &o: B&hdn, Mikhail Power, t2, IS,76,1t5,14Q3147,1%185,187,191, 212,220,229(n20), 232(n28), 2394n77) &cSesiasticcaI, 62,63,65,79, 186, 190, 196,25 t See also Engdon of Gad Rayer, X(n28), 8 l, 1t 8-1 19,133tn34, nM), 192, 265(n5 1 ) See aljo Litcur@ Ride, 126, 223 See aljo Egoism; Sin Rogressiubm, 6-7,69-75,83-85,89,93(n7), 95(n25), 139,t45,149,201, 20&201), 243 See aljo Enlightenmen%Mismfyr;Mdernity

R o p h e q 5,6, 7, 10, 12-1 3, 15, 17, 18,20,23,2&27, 30(n20), 6 4 65,77,99,105, t l 1,134(n47), 142, 153,198,202,2 10,2 12,248,250 and h"uskin, 1 1-13 See ako kshkin Lnguage, 4,20,27,202 See also Ap~mlyptic;Dosfwwk.)t;Wrd Proresran~sm,38,63,88, %93,254 and Refernadon, 36,63,15 I P r k d e n a , 26, 30(n20fj6849,92-93, l 16,120, 123-E 24,132(n39) See ako Causa1it-y;Spiritd Psdms (Bookof Bble), 106,127 Psychology, 23,94(n7), B, 103, 157-1 59,1665,191, 20I-202,2W205,208,2 13,229(n16), 249 kg&, 16 Moral, 9,23 Pushkin, Aleksandr, 1--4,IQ--l l, 14,28(n4), 35, 18I, 227(n1) Rakitin, Mikhail, 15,120-121, 175(~37),201,217,220, 232(n29) Redism, 18,21,139 Cltrisr-ian, 13, 15, 18,25,36,245 h r ~ h l y 15,20,bQ, , 185,238(n71) Modern, 15,134in48) PropheZic, 15,32(n24) Remon, 18,23,30fn2f f, 31(n2f ), 63,64,67,70,75,78, 85,88,134(n48), 145-146,157,162,165-167, 173,177(n53), 178(n63),2&207,2 10, 2 12-2 13,245--246,25%260 See ako Enti&tenmar; Hisraw Rekllion, l 07, 188,188,214-21 5,225(n49), 263(n33) against Chdsh 36,63,6?49,94(n 17),1Q4 102-103,107,11Q, 126,142, 147-I49,153-.154, 187,207,2 1 5 258 Metaphysical, 82,141- 143 against warid, 5,63,70, 107, 115-1 16, 188,2f 6,257 See also Grand Inquisitor; Ivan Karamamv Rebi&, 16,21,24, l IQ, 115, 1t8,120,234(n49) See also Resumection; Salvation; SdE Redemprion, 83,850 See ako ksumection Renan, Emesr, 24%246,25&25$,262(n6, n7, nlQ, n13, n14) See ako Chrisr Rqentance, 17,205-207,221,256 See also Confession; Forgiveness; Penitace flessmriment, 16,73,81,113,121 See aka Miemche; Retn%ution;Rmenge ksumection, 25, 125, t 8 4 4 85, 188,210,238(n74} Sec?also Christ; Rebirth; Salvation Wribution, 101,113,120,13 1 (n22, n28), 152-1 53, 181,213,225,231(n23), 23l(n23) See also lustice; Rwmge k e l a t i o n ( h k of Bible), 5,6, 14, 16,2 f ,85,93, B, 100, 102-1 1l, 1f 7,120,125,127, t 28(n3),

129(n12, n13f, 130(n17, n19), 142,183,185, 188-1 89,228(n 1 1),229(n14, n18), 25%25S See d o John of f"atmas Revenfle, 2 57-I58,164,l70,202,223,232(n34}, 238(n74) See d o Rasencivnenc; Rdbukion Rmard and hnishnent, lSO--161,164-665 See d o Justice; kvegatian ( B w k af Bible) flJteoric, 2 1,32(n28), 2W205, 207-209, 217,22 t , 228(n9) Rimeu:ur,Paul, 113-1 15,131(n30), 1M(n31), 135,151, 175(n30) Roman Carhofidsm, 36,38,62,65,78,80,86,88, W* 105,182,197,231(n28), 235(n$9), 248, 254 See aljo ChfisrianiQ; h a e r n Orlihadnx CbPistianity Roman Empire, 79, 88-W9 102,105,157,182,189 Romans (Bwk of BiMe), 25,32(n25) Romanticism, 31 (n24), l B-120,204,209, 230(n22) See d o Scbiller Rousseau, jen-Jacques, 2 f 0-2 f l, 234(n47, n49), 235fn49) Russia, 2, 10, 12-14,24,35,74,7&79,9O--92,94,99, 103,153,181-1 82, 198--191,201-205,207,28 2, 227(nl l, 233(n38), 249 See aljo Dostoevsky; Eas~ernOrt-hodox C h r i ~ i a n i q Saint-Sinon, Claude-Henri de Ro 234(n47) Salvation, 103, 109, l 17, 184,205,207,209 See aIso Redemption; Raurrection Sandoz, EBiq 128(n3), 256 S a f l ~jean , Paul, 35 Schetlting, Friedrich, 66,86 Schiller, Friedrich, 12, 120,203 Scbweitm, Alberl, 3 1 (n24) Selena, 1Q, 13,17,24,27,63,66,75,12 1,125,149, 170,182,195,201,238(n71),244 See aljo Causdity; Enfigbtenmenr;,Mdernity; Realism Seed (parable of Sotvet.), 1%22, 17 1,193,208,223, 230fn22) Self, 81, 112 deaub, 20-21,25,32(n27), 11S, 226,230(n2f ), 263(n33) Egoism, 23,25,62,%,129(n8), 144-145,221 Love, 1S, 163,170 Rebirth, 16,24 Selflessness,230(n2 f ) See aIso afmism; Human Nature; Xndi~duality Servanthd, 16,104,114,Z 18,221 See aIso Christ; SuEering Shakapeare, William, 3,12 Silence, 25,36--38, 104, 140, 152,220,236(n62), 237(n67), 242-243,258,26&261 See d o a r i s e Simon, W.M., 121

Sin, 17,26,30fn2f f, 156-157,164,173,387-188,193, 199,21 1,219,258-259 See ako Devil; Hell; SuEefing Sisyphus, My& of, 168 Slavery, 113,181,195 See ako Freedom Smerdyakov, 22-23, t 23-124, 126,129(n7), 132(n31), 134(n49, n50}, 143,160,164, 169,177fn62}, 178(n&l.),200,205,2 f 5, 233(n36, n39), 237(n62, n@), 239(n8 t ) S n g i w v , 102,115,127,2W, 216,2f9,22%224 Sngiryov, Xlyusha, 102,115,127,163,Z 14-2 17, 2 19-220,222-225,239(n8 t ), 264(n39) Socialism, 9, 1S, 67,69,77,81,83,8&94 95(n25), 108, 121-122, t 82,197,209,2 f 7,220,227(n 11% 232(n29), 234(n47),24%24$ Socrates, 187,23S(n57) SoliBarity, 190, 192,206 See ako Community Solovav, Vfadimir, 38 Sod, 102, l t 2, 125, 172 Sec?also Conscience; Consciousness; Pqchofo@ Speech, 2 4 2 1Q Divine, 18,29(n B), 3 1(n2l), 32n(24f See also Silence; Word Stalin, Fmd, 5&59,76 Steher, George, 35-36, B Stone, i m q e of, 22 1-225 See ako Alyosha; Xlpsha Stupidity, 145,2 13-2 13,220,232(n29f SuEering, 11, 14, 16,24,30(n2 l ), 36-37,58,68,72,80, 82,933 101-102,107,I09-110,113,115,119, 125-123,127,128(n6,~7), 129(n8), 132(n35), 134(n47) 138-140,142,145,147,153-154, 156-157,163--1&,t66,171, t 77(n57), 183,187, 198,208,2 10,2 13,2 16,2 1 5 222-224,227, 229(n14), 235(n52), 252,256,2554 225(n58) See ako Christ; Cmciiixion; Lamb; Semnt Suicide, 81, t 13,118-1 19,13I (n28), 134(n50), 165-568, 173, 177(n53),179(n64), 1M,203, 205,2 l4,218,222,233(n39), 237(n63) See ako Death; Self; SuRefing Svdav, Gnrshenka, I 16-1 li 9,122,133(n43, n45), 198, 200,203,2 18-2 f 9 Tmas, Victor$202,233(n35,n37, n39),26 1 (n6) Themraq, 85 See also Kingdom of God ThecJdicy, 142,260 See also God; Divine jwtice Theotum See Christianity;Eastern O ~ o d n x Christianiry; Johanning Roman Catholicism Thompsan, Diane, 17-I9,29(n 18), 30fn20), 117, 132(n37), 228(n8) "fiw SpkZamrhastra (Nietwhe), 7476, 147-148, l5G158, 171-173,17S(n46) T o ~ s ~ o ~ , 9,99

Torali~rian,57-59,138-131),175(n20}, 183,185,2 tQ See also Tjrrmny Biigedy, 17,2&25,30(n21), 31(n21), 134(n45), 140, 153,201 Trinity, 206 See also Christ; God; Holy Spirit Twilight of the Idols (Hietache), 141,146 Tyranny; 2,65,76,8&8laf39, t42,f'70,f87,217, 234fn49),237(n63) See also Tbtalitilrianism V e r k h o ~ v&Va, , f 19, f 22, f 33(n4f, n45f,202 Virt:ue>t 3133fn45),152, 165,1&2,232(n29)

See &Q Ethics; Morals VoegeEn, Eric, 169, f 77(n62), I82 Vollake, 3, W 7 , SI.Bfnll),16&t6l, 212 Ward, Bma, 234(n47)1,263(n29f WdI to Power (Niemhe), 73-74,136,154,162, 171-172

W t t ~ s e i nbdtvig, , 35 Word, 3,12,1+20, 22-23,30(n20), 32(n25), 109, 183-I84,223,225,2trO

See ako Christ; Gad A Writmj Diary (Dostoevsky), 2Et(n4), 75,87,89-W, 152, 165, 167,202,234(1%M), 243 Yoder, John H,, 233(n41) Usrodive (Holy Fool), 24%250,263(n27)

%ucMa, 215-216,219-220

him,Father, 13, 15-17, 19,2 1,25,26,36,37,77-87, 90,92,96f n40),97(~44),110,116-1 18,120, 123, 128(116), X29(n8), t30(n I9),132[n34, n38) 149-8 50,152-1 54, t 56,163-1 64,167,169-1 73, 175(n35), f 77(n53), 185,188-192,194-195, 197-198,200,2(12,207-208,2 18,229(nX51, 230(n22), 231 (n24), 233(n35), 239(n83), 241, 255

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