Classics and the Western Canon discussion
Dostoevsky, Brothers Karamazov
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Brothers Karamazov, Book 6
Everyman wrote: "...Father Zosima's story of the murderer who was persuaded by Father Zosima to confess -- ..."When I read that story, my thoughts turned to Jean Valjean's struggles before he turned himself in....and then I became concerned about the occupational hazard of priests and psychiatrists...
Nemo wrote: "Everyman wrote: "...Father Zosima's story of the murderer who was persuaded by Father Zosima to confess -- ..."When I read that story, my thoughts turned to Jean Valjean's struggles before he tur..."
Good link. I had thought more of Raskolnikov, but Jean Valjean is a better comparison. Presumably D knew Le Mis, since it was written I think about twenty years earlier. I wonder whether he had the connection in mind.
What struck me most in this chapter was father Zosima's definition of freedom as opposed to Ivans in his story of The Grand Inquisitor.What I basically made out of it was the following:
Ivan (or the Grand Inquisitor actually) thought that nothing good could come of freedom of the people: they want to be told what to do and don't want to be free.
Zosima opposes this. But his notion of freedom is the total opposite of Ivan's. He actually says that most people mistake freedom for doing whatever you want to satisfy your lust/want. He agrees that nothing good can come of that, as those needs place people against each other and people can never be fully satisfied.
Real freedom, he argues, is not pursuing those whims, but, while being of service, believing in god.
I must say I didn't fully grasp this, as it is opposed to what I' was thought freedom is about, but I believe he meant that man has the freedom to live his live according to god and, by accepting all the bounderies etc. god has created, is freed of the burden of being human.
Another thing that struck me is how both Ivan and Zosima seem to think that the idea of human as being better than nature/animals is wrong: it are actually animals who are better, because they don't have the ability to doubt god.
Everyman wrote: "... I had thought more of Raskolnikov, but Jean Valjean is a better comparison. Presumably D knew Le Mis, since it was written I think about twenty years earlier..."Les Mis was published a few years before CP, and twenty years before BK, as you said. There are so many similarities between the two works, I couldn't help comparing them often.
Beside the connection between Jean Valjean and the confessing murderer, there is also Bishop Myriel and the monk Zosima, the heart and soul of the two stories. Are there any other saintly characters in literature as well known as these two?
Marieke wrote: "What struck me most in this chapter was father Zosima's definition of freedom as opposed to Ivans in his story of The Grand Inquisitor...."As far as I could tell, neither Ivan nor Zosima gave any definition of freedom. I think Dostoevsky wants to show what freedom is through Zosima, not so much through his words, as through the example of his life. I sometimes wish that Zosima and Alyosha are more logical and articulate, that they give a reason for what they believe, but Dostoevsky is wiser: a good life is better than a thousand arguments.
Zossima first defines what freedom is not when he explains that man has construed a false sense of freedom from his slavery to foolish desires of worldly spoils. To me this sounds similar to Thoreau in a, "you don't own your things, your things own you" way:Interpreting freedom as the multiplication and rapid satisfaction of desires, men distort their own nature, for many senseless and foolish desires and habits and ridiculous fancies are fostered in them. They live only for mutual envy, for luxury and ostentation. To have dinners, visits, carriages, rank and slaves to wait on one is looked upon as a necessity, for which life, honor and human feeling are sacrificed, and men even commit suicide if they are unable to satisfy it.Then he defines true freedom as spiritual freedom attained by living an ascetic lifestyle mindful to god:
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 212). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.
The monastic way is very different. Obedience, fasting and prayer are laughed at, yet only through them lies the way to real, true freedom. I cut off my superfluous and unnecessary desires, I subdue my proud and wanton will and chastise it with obedience, and with God's help I attain freedom of spirit and with it spiritual joy.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 213). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.
He also sneaks in the thought of the book again:They, following science, want to base justice on reason alone, but not with Christ, as before, and they have already proclaimed that there is no crime, that there is no sin. And that's consistent, for if you have no God what is the meaning of crime?He is consistent in the state of lawfulness being dependent on the belief in god, not the existence of god.
~Father Zossima (as recorded by Alyosha)
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 213). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.
In the story of the murderer, we have a criminal who believes in god and suffered by his sin but not made to suffer for it as if everything was lawful. I understand he was an otherwise model citizen, but what would the victim or the victim's family have to say about that? I also found Father Zossima's reaction to the confession to almost killing him understandable but quite lacking?Murderer: “Do you remember how I came back to you that second time, at midnight? I told you to remember it. You know what I came back for? I came to kill you!”Thats it, "I started". Would Father Zossima have reacted differently or rethought things a little if the murderer had actually attempted to kill him too?
Father Zossima: I started.
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 211). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.
It was brilliant of D to have Father Zossima make "the murderer" human again by forgoing the label and referring to him by his first name, Mihail at the end.
Marieke wrote: "both Ivan and Zosima seem to think that the idea of human as being better than nature/animals is wrong: it are actually animals who are better, because they don't have the ability to doubt god."I found the attitudes towards animals interesting too. But how can Zossima declare man is superior to animals and then claim that animals are without sin implying man is sinful, and man, despite his greatness, defiles the earth just by being here, implying animals do not? I wonder how much thought he has really given these ideas beyond their use as an appeal for humility?
Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble it, don't harass them, don't deprive them of their happiness, don't work against God's intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you— alas, it is true of almost every one of us!Since he claims animals are without sin is everything lawful for them? Does he imply animals have or need a belief in god or not, or have or need a belief in their immortality, and are they free in any sense or not?
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov (p. 216). BookMasters. Kindle Edition.
I suppose the murderers punishment was to live with a continued sense of disconnection from most other humans. They didn't accept his confession and labeled him as insane. His children are spared the ruin of such a reputation. I can't really tell if he made his peace with God or not. I understand that by not killing Father Zosima he was better able to live with himself. It still seems that the reputation of the accused man still matters, regardless of whether he was spared by death. If human reputations matter at all, they should matter for everyone, regardless of what children are or are not left behind.
David wrote: "But how can Zossima declare man is superior to animals and then claim that animals are without sin implying man is sinful, and man, despite his greatness, defiles the earth just by being here, implying animals do not?.."I can only speculate, but perhaps he believes man is superior because he has the facility of free choice? The animals are innocent by nature and therefore have no need of justice or laws. I suppose they are "free" in the sense that they are free from the unique anguish that comes with the ability to make free choices based on collective values. It is an interesting question.
Marieke wrote: "Real freedom, he argues, is not pursuing those whims, but, while being of service, believing in god..."Perhaps it has to do with that sense of being "called"? There are choices and there are choices. Liberty is about having lots of choices, yes? Deep freedom is something different. Perhaps a deeper level of liberty. Whether it is about serving God or perhaps protesting a deep injustice, or protecting a child - something "calls" you to "do what you must" (whatever that may be in different circumstances). There is no thinking it over weighing pros and cons.
In these discussions of books in the canon, I often find myself coming back to this idea of freedom vs liberty (not that the two ideas are at odds, only that they are not on the same level).
Also, Alyosha believes what he wants to believe about what Father Zosima believes. The narrator too, is biased. Zosima being a fictional character, I wouldn't rush to guess that any of this gives us any serious insight into what D believes. We don't even know for sure what Father Zosima believes.
Theresa wrote: "Zosima being a fictional character, I wouldn't rush to guess that any of this gives us any serious insight into what D believes. We don't even know for sure what Father Zosima believes...."I'd say we know as much as is possible for a fictional character, what Zosima believes, through his acts, words, and his life. As the song goes, if we don't know him by now, we will never never know him. :)
"... Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you— alas, it is true of almost every one of us!..."According to the Genesis account, man is superior to the animals in that he bears the image of God. With that superiority comes responsibility, and man is given charge over the creation, including the care of animals.
Sin, in a sense, is falling short of our responsibility, individually and collectively, for ourselves, our fellow human beings, the animals and the whole earth.
If the inner state of man can be projected outwardly onto his surroundings, like what Dostoevsky does in the novel, man defiles the earth with his sinfulness, in the same way he pollutes the air and water with consumer and industrial waste.
Book VI is a profound book in many ways, not only because of the deep truths to which we listen from the dying Zossima, but to the deeper background of his life which make these stories all the more meaningful. We cannot read them and suppose that there is any pride left in this monk. What we are reading, then, is the distillation not of his knowledge but of his wisdom which is a far different thing, for wisdom, as he would say, is given only by God.No doubt there was some surprise when Zossima explained that he saw something horrible in Dmitri's eyes the day before, “at what that man is preparing for himself,” and this was the reason for his low bow. Asked to explain further, he responds, But everything and all our fates are from the Lord. Then he quotes John 12: 24: Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
Although I have discussed this before, it is worth mentioning again because Dostoevsky finds this theme significant enough to mention this passage twice in this single book. As Christ is quoted saying this to his disciples before He is crucified, He is likening himself to the corn of wheat. Without His suffering and death, no sinner of the human race could have been saved. The salvation of all souls, before and to the end of days is owing to the sacrifice of this Corn of wheat.
I believe that this theme of sacrifice, death and rebirth is one of the great living themes throughout this book. In this particular case, Zossima is suggesting, I believe that something in Dmitri must die away and find its way to be reborn not only in the spirit of mankind but in the spirit of God.
More than anything else, Zossima reasons for living values of simplicity and love. Whether his argument that man is incapable of judging his fellow men is valid or not would probably take a great deal of discussion, but it seems that at the core, Zossima is laying out a well reasoned argument for Dostoevsky's vision of sobornost, one which is not only distinctly Russian but distinctly Russian Orthodox at its core. While he suggests that Europe is already tearing itself apart, Russia's social system is still well grounded, even if the upper classes are discarding God and taking on the Western ways of science and atheism. The lower class doesn't resent the upper class in Russia like they do in Europe.
Zossima says, ”The people believe as we do, and an unbelieving reformer will never do anything in Russia, even if he is sincere in heart and a genius....The people will meet the atheist and overcome him, and Russia will be one and orthodox.”
This worldview is stunning in its magnificence and its simplicity. Whether it might have been possible is anyone's guess...or what it might have taken to inspire it is left to the imagination. Nevertheless, however majestic and incredible by the end of the book, I think it is worth considering that Zossima's words are an outline for the kind of peculiarly Russian sobornost, ordered by the Russian Orthodox church with a triune God as its center, which Dostoevsky envisioned as a very wonderful reality.
One of the more interesting issues to which Zossima devotes himself in Book VI is the issue of hell. There has, of course, been a great deal written about Dostoevsky's theology but much of it is highly imaginative and keenly speculative. Whether D and Z approach the same degree of detail about hell or not is a subject for some scholarly debate best left for another stage, but from the text alone, I maintain that we are given a view which is not a Biblical departure. Zossima begins by asking the following, perhaps one of the best known quotes of Dostoevsky:
”Fathers and teachers, I ask, ”What is hell?” I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.”
Compared to a somewhat traditional definition of hell, a place of torture created for Satan and his rebellious horde where unbelieving souls will be tormented unceasingly for eternity, Zossima's definition hints of a bit of mysticism....or at least it would except for a story he adds a few sentences later. Luke 16:19-31 tells the story of a rich man and a poor beggar. They both die and the rich man ends up in the bowels of hell and Lazarus is in the safety of Abraham's bosom. The formerly rich man is in torment and he begs Abraham to send Lazarus to relieve his thirst. Of course Lazarus cannot cross the gulf between them and the formerly rich man's soul is comes to understand how he is condemned to eternal torment.
The greater question seems to be whether this is a material or a spiritual thirst. Zossima seems to say that it is spiritual in nature. He argues:
They talk of hell fire in the material sense. I don't go into that mystery and I shun it. But I think if there were fire in the material sense, they would be glad of it, for, I imagine, that in material agony, their still greater spiritual agony would be forgotten in a moment. Moreover, that spiritual agony cannot be taken from them, for that suffering is not external but within them.
Zossima is saying that the far greater torment, in any case of the physical/spiritual argument would be spiritual torment and his argument is significant. As an example, one may consider a simple case of punishment for a crime. If the criminal is simply required to to be punished by going to jail, he may or may not acknowledge the spiritual or moral wrong of what he did. On the other hand, if he were to make reparations to a family or person he had injured, he would be more involved with reparations. In Zossima's view, however, this would include making reparations not only before the people who were injured, but before God so that he might be able to rejoin the community as a member, desiring to become a part of the spiritual whole, (sobornost.) The one who has struggled and been reborn is the one who has learned how to love, not mankind, but his neighbor and Christ through living like Christ.
Much of Dostoevsky's library was lost while he was abroad from 1867-1871. Fortunately we have his second wife's memoir about the collection of his books in the later years. However, only three books remain which have Dostoevsky's notes in his own hand. They are The Insulted and Injured, The Brothers Karamazov and the New Testament in Russian.
Dostoevsky's second wife, Anna Griorevna, tells in her memoirs, how he received a copy of the New Testament from the Decembrists' wives in January of 1850 when he was on his way to Siberia to serve time for crimes against the state.
”Twenty years later, when he recalled his sorrow and mental anguish, he used to say that the Gospel was the only thing that kept his hope alive in his heart. Only in that book did he find support; whenever he resorted to it, he was filled with new energy and strength.”
It is also interesting that these copies of the New Testament would have been the first ones which had been published in Russian, the previous ones in the old Slavonic text still used by the church. This Russian text would have also been the one presented to Sonja in Crime and Punishment. “It was the New Testament in Russian translation, ' states Raskalnikov. “The book was old, well used, bound in leather.”
Clearly in 1862, the author was re-gifting his own book of immeasurable value.
Anna Grigorevna states that it was later to be found on the author's desk. “Often when he was in deep thought or in doubt about something, he would open the New Testament at random and read whatever was on the first page to his left,” she says in her memoirs.
It is well known that the writings of St John have played a significant part in the Orthodox church. It should come as no surprise, then, that there are more markings and comments in Dostoevsky's Bible from John's writings than any other. In fact the book of John has the most of Dostoevsky's personal markings and comments, including the following passage which has been discussed in a comment previously, John 12:24 Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.
Dostoevsky's gravestone also bears this inscription.
But in John, above all, Dostoevsky interprets the message of love as a commandment to show compassion, not to some, but to everyone. He wrote, (I think in The Idiot,) “Compassion is the most important and perhaps the only law for the whole of human life.”
As to the issue of hell, I believe that Dostoevsky through Zossima is amplifying God's love for us in a very special way, above and beyond what we have had explained in terms of the typical penalties of hell in various literature. Certainly, as the last paragraphs of Zossima's explanations on hell explain, for those who will simply not accept God, ”there are some fearful ones who have given themselves entirely to Satan and his proud spirit. For such, it is voluntary and ever consuming: they are tortured by their own choice. For they have cursed themselves, cursing God and life. They live upon their vindictive pride like a starving man in the desert sucking blood out of his own body.” This seems very Biblical and hardly mystical.
Hence I believe that far from being mystical or even, as he has been called, “a theistic existentialist,” there is greater evidence for suggesting that Dostoevsky is is providing a much less rigid form of Christianity, perhaps one which might not survive strict priestly muster in all cases, (and indeed one wonders how Christ Himself would be accepted in some churches today!) but this view amplifies Christ the Redeemer to a place within the world where He needs to be in order for salvation through His love to take place.
I'm not particularly well versed in religion or theology, so haven't been able to comment on many of the issues raised in this thread or others, but just wanted to chip in with a few thoughts of my own after getting to the end of Book 6.I have to confess that I found the life & teachings of Father Zosima a rather weak rebuttal to the issues raised in Rebellion and the Grand Inquisitor, especially the issue of human suffering. Zosima's call for brotherly love (or "sobornost"), as the basis of a communal life where we all take responsibility for each other -- as opposed to the fragmentation and isolation he sees in the west -- seems to extend only to Russians and Christians.
That exclusiveness also seems to be at the heart of his concept of hell. Any brotherly love he feels certainly doesn't extend to non-believers. Rather than espousing universal human values, Zosima seems to me to embody much of what is divisive about any religion that's defined by schism (Sunni vs Shia, Protestant vs Catholic) or along national boundaries (Russian Orthodox).
Reading Book 6 also made me think back to my time reading Dante's Divine Comedy at university, which (like Dostoevsky) I enjoy for the quality of writing and psychological insights, but the use of hell as a means to settle scores (in Dante's case, the schism was Guelph vs Ghibelline) always seemed petty to me. I also found it amusing how Dante would tie himself up in knots dealing with all the "pagans" who lived before Christ's birth, most of whom ended up in hell but certain Poets (like Homer) got a pass to Limbo. If anything, it made the work feel less divine and more human and flawed. For me, it's a shame Dante didn't get to read Herodotus, as it would have given him a far more expansive view of humanity's achievements before Christ.
Anyway, that's enough of my ramblings. The thing I valued most from Book 6 was the spur to get reacquainted with the Book of Job and William Blake's wonderful illustrations of his awful suffering. There was also a weirdly prophetic passage near the start of Chapter 3, Book 6, in which Zosima talks of the "transmitting of thoughts through the air", which seems to allude to the age of mass communication and the internet, and how these new tools won't make the world more united. Again, I couldn't disagree with him more; he just sounds like a Luddite!
Dave wrote: "Zosima's call for brotherly love (or "sobornost"), as the basis of a communal life where we all take responsibility for each other -- as opposed to the fragmentation and isolation he sees in the west -- seems to extend only to Russians and Christians. "I didn't get the sense that the communal love Zosima embraces only extends to Russians and Christians, because it seems to extend to animals and inanimate objects as well. He is calling the Russian Christians to exercise this love as a community, but that's quite different from confining love within the community.
Dave wrote: "I have to confess that I found the life & teachings of Father Zosima a rather weak rebuttal to the issues raised in Rebellion and the Grand Inquisitor, especially the issue of human suffering. Zosima's call for brotherly love (or "sobornost"), as the basis of a communal life where we all take responsibility for each other -- as opposed to the fragmentation and isolation he sees in the west -- seems to extend only to Russians and Christians.That exclusiveness also seems to be at the heart of his concept of hell. Any brotherly love he feels certainly doesn't extend to non-believers.."
I would like you to be clearer on exactly which arguments of Rebellion and the Grand Inquisitor to which you refer and which of Zossima's rebuttals. If you could include your reasons for finding the arguments weak, that would also be appreciated.
However, unless I have read and understood the book's passages incorrectly, Zossima is including all people in the activity of love. It is the lack of love for others, he says, which has alienated others. There is no doubt. however, that, for Zossima, this love is modeled after faith in a man who sacrificed Himself willingly for others. Still Zossima is clearly not excluding those who do not believe. In fact, I suggest he would argue that those who do not have love are in greater need of it.
Insofar as any of this being isolated to Russia and the Orthodox faith, this is where Zossima's, and I believe, Dostoevsky's vision exists. The text states that this vision and actual occurrence can occur because of the great character of the Russian peasantry. I cannot regard this as divisive, but I remain open to correction.
Lastly, I hope and pray that hell will always be exclusive. It is frightening to think of it otherwise. However, my comment concerning hell was not regarding its exclusivity. My comment was to suggest only that Zossima's depiction of hell was Biblical.
Zossima says it is a place where souls have refused to love. “What is hell? I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.” It is a powerful and universal message from Zossima, Dostoevsky and this book.
Rhonda wrote: "Dave wrote: "I have to confess that I found the life & teachings of Father Zosima a rather weak rebuttal to the issues raised in Rebellion and the Grand Inquisitor, especially the issue of human su..."I'd just read in several places, on these threads and elsewhere, of Book 6 being set up as a response to Book 5, but I specifically struggled to find in Zosima's life & teachings any rebuttal to Ivan's long discourse on why humans, especially children, suffer so. It's a powerful argument about the nature of God, especially if (for example) you've seen a friend of yours die from leukaemia at a young age, and I didn't find any convincing rebuttal to that from Zosima, only an ultra-conservative and ultra-nationalistic religious viewpoint, with some weird bits about loving animals and inanimate objects more than non-believers (or those morally decayed westerners).
On the point about hell, I find it most frightening that people still believe in such an idea in this day & age. For me, it's one of humanity's worst inventions. I can understand having a positive vision for one's religion, but the idea of hell just seems negative, petty and highly divisive to me.
I agree with Dave. Section six was a disappointment if it was supposed to be an answer to Rebellion or The Grand Inquisitor.
Dave wrote: "On the point about hell, I find it most frightening that people still believe in such an idea in this day & age...."Whether you think Hell is real or not, it has been an effective means of social control. If you believe, as Ivan may, that people need a supernatural belief to be the basis of their morality, then the threat of eternal punishment is a good motivator to behave the way you're told.
I can't disagree with you there, Jeremy, even though there's a hint of the Grand Inquisitor about that line of argument (don't let the people question their reality, organised religion knows best). I find personally that the fear of getting on the wrong side of the law, or more importantly my wife, more of a motivator to behave well!
Jeremy wrote: "Whether you think Hell is real or not, it has been an effective means of social control."Speaking to the text of TBK, it is critical to make the point that it would Ivan's conceptions of both God and hell which would crack the whip and keep people in line, ostensibly for their own good. This is to say, in a nutshell, judgment and punishment.
In contrast, Zossima's view is that one comes to truth in all things through compassion and love for one another rather than judgment. While I may be unenlightened, I believe that Dostoevsky is here making a very strong argument for Zossima's case.
At the risk of repeating myself, ad nauseam, Ivan's split personality is destroying itself from the inside out and will, in all likelihood, become worse. His belief system has, in essence, legitimized his own father's abominable behavior and he has no moral code by which he can licitly object to anything.
Dave wrote: "On the point about hell, I find it most frightening that people still believe in such an idea in this day & age. For me, it's one of humanity's worst inventions."I have a little confusion, but no difficulty with those who do not believe in God. In fact I have come to accept it as somewhat the norm in our society. It is, however, of little matter whether you fear Zossima or Dostoevsky or me, for that matter, who do believe in hell.
Insofar as we are reading this text, The Brothers Karamazov, I must observe that it is God of the Bible who created hell and He created it for Satan and the third of the angels in heaven which rebelled against Him. This is not only a Biblical view but Dostoevsky's view. Zossima elaborates on how others may attend such a place, but I suggest that if it had to be put down to a single word, it would be due to excessive pride. It is often said that pride is the original sin of Satan.
We should probably draw a line here under all matters abyssal, Rhonda, before things descend into an infernal spiral of misunderstanding, but I will just clarify a few points:- I never said that I don't believe in God
- I don't fear anyone who believes in hell, however objectionable I find the concept
- It's good to hear that you accept and tolerate different viewpoints
- On the point of excessive pride, it's worth remembering that the biblical concept of hell is just a viewpoint, not an objective fact
However, I would be interested to hear how you think Zosima's life & teachings addressed the issues of human suffering, especially among children, that were raised in Rebellion.
Dave wrote: "I would be interested to hear how you think Zosima's life & teachings addressed the issues of human suffering, especially among children, that were raised in Rebellion..."I don't quite follow one of Ivan's arguments in Rebellion. Maybe you can help me here. What does he mean by "unrequited suffering"? What would he consider an acceptable requital for suffering?
Dave wrote: "However, I would be interested to hear how you think Zosima's life & teachings addressed the issues of human suffering, especially among children, that were raised in Rebellion."I have thought a great deal about what you have asked and would rather you have asked a more specific question. I have tried to sketch the problem according to not only something with which you may have an issue, but a great deal more. Initially, I realized that there has not been much discussion at all concerning Ivan's Grand Inquisitor or the chapter labeled Rebellion., both of Book V and I thought that perhaps many more had an issue with the material as you did. Indeed, if this discussion has a major flaw, it is because it probably belongs in Book V rather than here, but we have begun here and here we shall stay.
I am going to apologize for the length of this reply. If such are unwanted, may the moderator please contact me offline. I felt the need to be complete.
You have essentially asked to to explain Zossima's views of the problems which Ivan brings up in the chapter on Rebellion. I am not going to do that for two reasons. First, Zossima's treatment of those who suffered is clear insofar as the text goes. Second, the issue is not about how Zossima is right inasmuch as it is as how Ivan is wrong. Hence, I will endeavor to demonstrate why Ivan Karamazov's views are not only wrong but catastrophically so.
Ivan Karamazov is no atheist of the second order. Without risk of hyperbole, Ivan states the philosophical problem of evil clearer and more persuasively than any other character or theologian in the last several hundred years. Yet, as I have argued elsewhere, Ivan is very traditionally Russian and therefore a Russian atheist This means that he doesn't just sit back and pose a philosophical argument across the table. He is the living, breathing fire-eyed master of his own Gordian knot. Ivan really lives his problems. This is not a kind of board game where one may shake hands and go to bed, but a winner-take-all kind of game...and Ivan is determined to either win according to his intellect or disintegrate. For Ivan, these are matters, quite literally, of life and death, an eternal life of love and bliss or and an eternal anguished death.
Ivan comes away from Katerina's house having his heart crushed maintaining that he has found a new freedom, through his “greenness.” He even impresses us with Schiller's famous reference to life and rebirth with his “sticky little leaves.”
“The centripetal force on our planet is still fearfully strong, Alyosha. I have a longing for life, and I go on living in spite of logic.. Though I may not believe in the order of the universe, yet I love the sticky little leaves as they open in the spring. I love the blue sky. I love some people, whom one loves you know sometimes without knowing why. I love some great deeds done by men, though I've long ceased to have faith in them. Yet from habit one's heart prizes them.....It's not a matter of intellect or logic, it's loving with one's inside, with one's stomach.”
Ivan knows that he cannot understand the deepest things. “I have a Euclidean earthly mind and so how can I solve problems that are not of this world?” He even admits that reason can be put to ill use: “Intelligence is a knave,” he confesses. Yet Ivan is unwilling to give up on reason and to live as a mindless passion-driven believer. He is, however, quite capable of not only accepting various points of life, but welcoming it warmly without regard to its meaning or morality if he feels like it. He has admitted as much to Alyosha. However the key point is the limit upon which he places this acceptance.
If accepting anything beyond that which feels right, (such as, for example, loving Katerina or visiting Europe,) suggests itself to Ivan, he immediately places stringent qualifications on admission into his domain. It was Ivan's own brother to whom he referred when he asked, “Am I my brother's keeper?” One gets the feeling that if he doesn't feel inclined, then love takes a holiday.
Indeed, in Rebellion, Ivan says
"Suppose I, for instance, suffer intensely. Another can never know how much I suffer, because he is another and not I. And what's more, a man is rarely ready to admit another's suffering (as though it were a distinction). Why won't he admit it, do you think? Because I smell unpleasant, because I have a stupid face, because I once trod on his foot. .... One can love one's neighbors in the abstract, or even at a distance, but at close quarters it's almost impossible."
And it is here that Ivan plays displays the principle part of his value system, the isolation of the individual. In our Western world, we might believe that we are reading some pre-Sartrean treatise on the nobility of the individual. Indeed, this and The Grand Inquisitor has been argued by a great many people, (including Camus,) that it appeals precisely to that ideal. However, to Dostoevsky to argue for what we call the freedom of the individual and the consequent individual values, especially as they are displayed here, would be akin to not only social suicide, but moral and national suicide as well.
Though Ivan wants to take in all life has to give, Ivan is only willing to take life on Ivan's very specific terms. He only wants to love “some people” and only “some great deeds” and even then he seems to love those...sometimes. In this Ivan purposefully denies the teachings of Father Zossima who stands dialectically opposed to Ivan's calculated willfulness. While Father Zossima insists that love must be universally applied and cannot be selective, Ivan wants to make it convenient for the way he finds it. While Father Zossima suggests that love be inclusive, universal and real, Ivan wants it to be selective, occasional and theoretical. While Father Zossima insists that we must love those who are distant and seemingly undeserving, Ivan finds that the theoretical warts of life get in the way of concrete action.
These individual features of others, the bad breath, the facial structure, the bad manners, are all constructs which Ivan has created as reasons to live in an isolated and self-determining world. Others must satisfy his terms before he will agree to allow them into his world. God must satisfy Ivan's terms in the same way... and hence Ivan will not accept God's world.
Perhaps the heart of Ivan's argument is that which is the most devastating, the argument where Ivan provides a scathing critique of human beings who have a long history of preying on innocents. He says, it's just their defenselessness that tempts the tormentor, just the angelic confidence of the child who has no refuge and no appeal, that sets his vile blood on fire.
There is no logical argument or appeal against cruelty and certainly it is a weak effort to provide the argument of a divine free will as an argument. However while state that there is not a logical counter to Ivan's scathing argument against belief, this is not to say that there is no answer to this question. It is, in fact, well answered, and it is answered theologically in living form in the text.
Zossima and Alyosha are the religious figures Dostoevsky offers to counter Ivan's atheist revolt. Thus the greatest truths belong not to the geometer or the mathematician or the scientist who have defined how the world must be, but those who are not, as Ivan claimed to be, Euclidean.
The truth of matters belong to God and God may be certainly paradoxical. A case in point may be that Zossima has revealed the character of each of the Karamazovs, even indicating that Dmitri is under severe duress and in danger of some danger which we don't yet understand. This is more than the practiced reading of an old man. Even Zossima allows that he does not make this happen but it is given to him much as were his teachings.
Ivan's mind is structured very much like a Western mind, with its material thought patterns carefully divorced from the immaterial. But Zossima and Alyosha are Russian and they live in a multi-layered cosmos with an infinite God and a multi-dimensional schema of which they only understand a tiny corner...and they are willing to concede that they may not even understand that all too well, if it comes to that. It is their ability to love, to absorb, to unite with others in love without judgment which unifies them with their world.
The difference is that for Ivan, there is a constant battle going back and forth which seems destined to wear him out, even at this point in the book. He has already confessed that he cannot see to living past 30. even with his present zest for life. It would seem that this is like a shooting star while his counterparts are constantly being re-nourished and increased for greater things, inspiring others and encouraging others around them to do the same.
Zossima asks, Fathers and teachers, I ponder, "What is hell?" I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.
Perhaps this describes Ivan's place in the world, unable to love and unable to exist. Ultimately perhaps the greatest problem that Ivan faces is that he cannot love and therefore exists in perpetual torment. According to what Zossima suggested about the psychology of hell, Ivan should continue to self-destruct. We shall see.
Nemo wrote: "Dave wrote: "I would be interested to hear how you think Zosima's life & teachings addressed the issues of human suffering, especially among children, that were raised in Rebellion...."I agree that the idea of "unrequited suffering" isn't entirely clear. With unrequited love, there's often a specific giver of that love and a specific recipient that doesn't reciprocate. With suffering, it's more often an emotion that's experienced rather than given, and in Ivan's case it's not clear who the recipient might be and how exactly he expects them to reciprocate.
In the context of the passage, I understood the "unrequited suffering" to mean that Ivan now considers himself beyond any redemption from suffering that might be offered by closer communion with God or his fellow human beings.
Close reading of a translated text is always a bit tricky as some nuances may be lost in translation, so I'd be interested in whether any Russian speakers in this group might be able to explore the intricacies of the original wording of "unrequited suffering".
Rhonda wrote: "Dave wrote: "However, I would be interested to hear how you think Zosima's life & teachings addressed the issues of human suffering, especially among children, that were raised in Rebellion."Thanks for your long and considered reply, Rhonda. I agree that our discussions have largely glossed over one of the most apparently substantive parts of the book so far.
Jeremy & I have both voiced reservations about the contention that Book 6 is somehow a satisfactory response to the issues raised in Book 5, and that's certainly why I decided to mention this in the Book 6 thread. It's very possible that the arguments raised by Ivan in his Rebellion will be addressed later in the book, in which case we'll no doubt return to Book 5 later in our discussions.
Apologies if I wasn't clear, but I thought I had highlighted the specific issue that Ivan raises about why God would allow for a world of such senseless suffering, especially for children? Having lost a close childhood friend of mine to a cruel disease, it's something I still struggle with to this day. To my mind, nothing in Book 6 provided an adequate response to that. The argument that there are limits to intellectual understanding and that God knows best in his infinite wisdom is something that I find very tiresome. I also picked up a notion in Zosima's focus on brotherhood that a potential positive that comes from such suffering is that it creates closer bonds among those that have survived the death of a communal loved one. Again, I find this an unsatisfactory response; it's no consolation to the child who has had to endure the suffering and had their life cut off at the stem.
On the point about Ivan being an atheist of the first order, I'm not sure I'd describe him as an atheist at all. For me, he seems to believe in a deity and even some sense of greater harmony, as he puts it, but he just happens to reject that for himself as he doesn't believe in a benevolent God. Perhaps the philosophers or theologians among us might know of a more fitting term for his worldview.
I have no doubt that Dostoevsky will punish Ivan for his rebellion. Personally, I find him the least well-rounded of the three main brother characters and more of a straw man set up for a fall. To my mind, it's possible to think rationally and question authority (religious or otherwise), without being immoral and devoid of love for the world and humanity, but Ivan is obviously not a good example of that, more a vehicle for Dostoevsky to voice some of the concerns that plague him.
Dave wrote: " I understood the "unrequited suffering" to mean that Ivan now considers himself beyond any redemption from suffering that might be offered by closer communion with God or his fellow human beings. "Ivan experienced unrequited love for Katerina, and decided to free himself from the hopeless relationship. It seems to be quite consistent with his rejection of God due to unrequited suffering.
Is his perception of Katerina's character accurate? Is it true that she doesn't love him?
Is his perception of the character of God accurate? Is it true that God does not requite the suffering of man, especially children?
Personally I think the answers to the above questions might be in the negative, and Ivan's arguments are far from compelling. If suffering is the experience of emotional and physical pain, wouldn't the experience of joy and love be a fitting requital? If death is the ultimate suffering, wouldn't eternal life be a more than sufficient requital?
Nemo wrote: "I think Dostoevsky wants to show what freedom is through Zosima, not so much through his words, as through the example of his life.."Hmmm. Zosima's life representing freedom? I'm having trouble seeing that, at least in the traditional sense of freedom; the cloister is hardly the model for a life of freedom, is it?
David wrote: "In the story of the murderer, we have a criminal who believes in god and suffered by his sin but not made to suffer for it as if everything was lawful. I understand he was an otherwise model citizen, but what would the victim or the victim's family have to say about that? "Raises the fascinating question, who/what is punishment for? Is it to correct behavior? Doesn't seem any longer necessary in this case. Is it to enforce the rules of society so that others are not tempted to break the law and think they can get away with it? If so, the prosecutors made an error in letting him go free. Is it to provide a sense of vengeance or closure or satisfaction for the victims? As you suggest, if so, a total fail here; he gets away with murder, literally.
Doesn't this episode raise that question of the role of punishment?
Nemo wrote: "Dave wrote: " I understood the "unrequited suffering" to mean that Ivan now considers himself beyond any redemption from suffering that might be offered by closer communion with God or his fellow h..."Joy and love can certainly compensate for suffering, especially for adults who get to live a full life and experience a wide range and real depth of emotions. In cases of young lives cut tragically short, I don't see how this applies at all well.
Perhaps not everyone sees this injustice as a compelling reason to question the nature of God – that's more apparent to me now from these discussions – but it's something that continues to trouble me.
Returning to Book 6, I stand by my original contention that this issue of suffering, especially in children, is not answered at all satisfactorily in the life & teachings of Zosima, as though it were the second half of a dialectical puzzle with Book 5. For me, focusing on the clearly flawed character of Ivan also does little to diminish the power of the argument. However, I'm hopeful that, in the character of Alyosha, we might find a more compelling response.
Dave wrote: "Joy and love can certainly compensate for suffering, especially for adults who get to live a full life and experience a wide range and real depth of emotions. In cases of young lives cut tragically short, I don't see how this applies at all well.."Together with the belief in God, there is also the belief in the immortality of the soul, which Ivan put forth in Book II as the grounding for justice and morality, but he doesn't seem to believe in the immortality of the soul himself, and his reason for rejecting it isn't given in the text.
An argument can be made that our life doesn't end here, and that death is not "the last station", but a transfer station, through which we enter into a new life. The young and old who have suffered in this life will rejoice in the life to come, and they will gain abundantly for the pain they have endured.
Zosima's life and teaching gives us a glimpse, a preview as it were, of that new life. This is why I think it is a fitting answer to Ivan's challenge. The problem of suffering cannot be solved by the intellect alone, it can only be met head-on by living a life born triumphantly out of pain and suffering.
Everyman wrote: "Doesn't this episode raise that question of the role of punishment?"More than raising question of the role of punishment I felt like I was being emotionally manipulated, as Zossima clearly was, into believing in the power a person's belief to reform in support of Ivan's proposal to retain the ecclesiastical courts for this purpose. It was such a nice story, we almost forget that not only a woman was murdered, but that same person's belief relied upon to reform him, did not deter him from committing a murder in the first place.
The murderer also reminds us never to forget that other visit where he planned to kill Zossima for confessing to him. Why were we told not to forget this visit? Is this the better late than never example of this type of reform's deterrence, or is it just the the knife edge of recidivism on which a more malevolent, less conscionable, or most importantly, less repentant person would have cut a different path?
Dave wrote: " Close reading of a translated text is always a bit tricky as some nuances may be lost in translation, so I'd be interested in whether any Russian speakers in this group might be able to explore the intricacies of the original wording of "unrequited suffering"."
I am reading the book in Russian, keeping P-V translation by my side in case I need to refer to the text in this blog. I was a bit puzzled to read that the phrase ‘unrequited suffering’ found its parallel in the ‘unrequited love’. To tell you the truth, at that moment I couldn’t know for sure which Russian phrase was translated as ‘unrequited suffering’. So I went ahead and compared the Russian vs P-V text. There is a sentence by the end of the Chapter Rebellion:
‘I want to remain with unrequited suffering.’
In Russian, ‘unrequited suffering’ is ‘neotmshchennye stradaniya’.
‘Unrequited love’ is such a catch phrase, and no surprise, in Russian it has the same status, and goes: ‘nerazdelennaya lubov’.
You can see the two adjectives, both translated as ‘unrequited’, are different in Russian. Are they synonyms? No. (Although, I can imagine, some excited minds could argue that they are synonyms, or antonyms, with equal success). The word ‘neotmshchennye’ literally means UNAVENGED.
My expertise in English is much weaker than in Russian, so I only may guess that UNREQUITED has more than one meaning, correct?
Everyman wrote: "Zosima's life representing freedom? I'm having trouble seeing that, at least in the traditional sense of freedom; the cloister is hardly the model for a life of freedom, is it? "Zosima speaks of "freedom of spirit", since we can't see spirit, it's no surprise that we have trouble "seeing" freedom of spirit. :) It is said about a famous thinker (I can't remember whom) that, although he never left the town he was born in, his mind was free to traverse the whole world.
Nemo wrote: "An argument can be made that our life doesn't end here, and that death is not "the last station", but a transfer station, through which we enter into a new life."Thanks, Nemo. That's a very elegant explanation and does bring into focus a little better how Book 6 could be perceived as a response to Ivan's challenge. I still don't think it addresses the issue entirely head-on, and I would question the purpose of a temporary earth station where some suffer greatly for a short while and others lead long and fruitful lives, but I feel like it's time for me to move on from Books 5 & 6 now.
As an aside, it was interesting to me to find that Dostoevsky himself (10 May 1879; Complete Letters 5: 83) found Ivan's argument "irrefutable" and later wrote in his notebooks that "the whole novel" was a response to Ivan's rebellion, not just Book 6.
Bigollo wrote: "You can see the two adjectives, both translated as ‘unrequited’, are different in Russian. Are they synonyms? No."That's fascinating, thanks Bigollo. I was confused to see unrequited used in this context, and I'm glad that I questioned it.
Unavenged certainly has a different nuance in English than unrequited, which I've always understood to be an emotion (mainly love) that's not reciprocated.
"Unavenged suffering" makes Ivan sound much angrier, as though there were personal issues in his own childhood (no doubt associated with his irresponsible father) that are feeding into his wider rebellion against God.
But I do like this new idea of "unrequited suffering". There is something zen-like about it. It suggests strength.
If you think about it, unrequited love is a form of Suffering, and the willingness to endure "unrequited suffering" is a testament to Love.
Dave wrote: "... I still don't think it addresses the issue entirely head-on, and I would question the purpose of a temporary earth station where some suffer greatly for a short while and others lead long and fruitful lives,..."I'd agree that Dostoevsky doesn't address the issue entirely satisfactorily, but then again, nobody can. I'm only hoping to offer some perspective, without putting words into his mouth.
The brightest stars have the shortest lifetime. The value of a life is certainly not determined by its length. Both short and long lives have their value in the history of mankind, just as both short and long notes have their place in a great piece of music. Some notes are more explosive, and others more mellow, some gut-wrenching, others ecstatic, but they are all necessary for the musical composition, not one note should be missing.
If I understand one of Zosima's teachings correctly, each of us is given an opportunity, we're given time and space, the stage so to speak, to shine forth like stars, to love and create.
Nemo wrote: "just as both short and long notes have their place in a great piece of music. Some notes are more explosive, and others more mellow, some gut-wrenching, others ecstatic, but they are all necessary for the musical composition, not one note should be missing."Nice metaphor, Nemo. To take it further could we say in contrast per Ivan's perspective that some of these necessary notes are evil ones and because of that he neither understands the composer nor appreciates the composition and plans on leaving the concert between movements?
Rhonda wrote: "”Fathers and teachers, I ask, ”What is hell?” I maintain that it is the suffering of being unable to love.”
Compared to a somewhat traditional definition of hell, a place of torture created for Satan and his rebellious horde where unbelieving souls will be tormented unceasingly for eternity, Zossima's definition hints of a bit of mysticism."
Hell is the total absence of God, who is Love. So Zossima is right. The absence of love in hell is experienced by the soul as agony. To picture this agony images of fire, etc. have been traditionally used.
Nemo wrote: "The value of a life is certainly not determined by its length. Both short and long lives have their value in the history of mankind, just as both short and long notes have their place in a great piece of music. .."The metaphor is nice, but I am not at all comfortable with the idea. I can't spin the seemingly meaningless suffering of a child as having a "meaning" that fits into a glorified aesthetic understanding of the world. Some people do not live up to their full human potential (and by that I mean longevity as well as other measures) because as a species we haven't prioritized the inclusion of everyone over the exaltation of some. Essentially, innocent children die because medical science hasn't been funded to cure childhood diseases; civilian war casualties and child soldiers still exist because eliminating that practice is less important to us than other things. Yes, it is comforting for a parent to believe their dead child's life was "fulfilled" because their short experience in the world left some good behind. A longer life might have left even more good behind. Similarly it is more comforting to believe your young son died in service to his country - even there is truth in that - than to believe he died in a meaningless war. I think we can take what is good from the person's life, without glorifying the untimely loss.
Theresa wrote: "Nemo wrote: "The value of a life is certainly not determined by its length. Both short and long lives have their value in the history of mankind, just as both short and long notes have their place ..."The advance of science (and technology) may alleviate suffering in some cases, but science doesn't add to nor subtract from the meaning of suffering. If you're seeking for meaning, science can't give you any answer. That was part of Dostoevsky's argument, if I understand it correctly.
I have no intention to glorify suffering in and of it self. I'm only responding to the suggestion that a short life is less meaningful than a long one.
Marieke wrote: "Another thing that struck me is how both Ivan and Zosima seem to think that the idea of human as being better than nature/animals is wrong: it are actually animals who are better, because they don't have the ability to doubt god."I hope this is better late than never but I thought of this connection to Zossima's attitude towards animals while I was playing with my dogs this morning.
I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contain’d;
I stand and look at them long and long.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition;
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins;
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God;
Not one is dissatisfied—not one is demented with the mania of owning things;
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago;
Not one is respectable or industrious over the whole earth.. . .
. . .Picking out here one that I love, and now go with him on brotherly terms.
Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Philadelphia: David McKay, [c1900]; Bartleby.com, 1999. http://www.bartleby.com/142/14.html
We have spent our time up to now getting to know the Karamazov brothers more intimately, and now we turn to learning more of the life of Father Zosima and how he became an Elder.
It's quite a shift from the darkness of Ivan's philosophy in Book 5 to the light of Father Zosima's life and thought in Book 6. The parallels and differences between Ivan and Zosima are striking, with Alyosha seeming to function as the medium through which each of them presents his deepest self to us. That's a parallel, but there is also the opposition of the difference between Ivan's poem of the Grand Inquisitor and Father Zosima's story of the murderer who was persuaded by Father Zosima to confess -- Ivan presents an innocent man punished, and Zosima presents a guilty man who society refuses to punish. What are we to make of these two very different stories, or parables if you will?
I was also interested that while I was most focused on the contrast between Ivan and Zosima in these past two books, Zosima seems more concerned with Dimitri, like him in his early years a soldier, and his concern for the great evil he sees coming to Dimitri. We learn why Zosima bowed down to Dimitri; he saw great suffering coming, though he thinks Aloysha may be able to prevent it.
One of the thing that struck me forcefully through this book was the role of brothers. Even though he died young, Father Zosima's brother was central in his eventual conversion: "I was young then, a child, but a lasting impression, a hidden feeling of it all, remained in my heart, ready to rise up and respond when the time came. So indeed it happened."
And the function of brothers and brotherly love fills Father Zosima's story (or at least Aloysha's telling of it). The story of Joseph and his brothers, of course, but beyond that Chapter III is filled with talk of brotherly love, of brothers in the spirit, of exhortations addressed to "Brothers..."
So we have the Karamazov brothers on the one hand, and the spiritual brothers on the other, and Alyosha with a foot in both camps. We hope -- at least I hope -- that he will fall on the spiritual side, but he admits that the Karamazov is strong in him, so we will see.