I’ve been reading a lot lately. It has been really nice. Being in a new place where you don’t know very many people, while working a schedule that tends to discourage normal social interactions provides you with that blessing. I am hoping that I will take ample advantage of it now, because there may come a day where the business of life prevents me from reading as much, and I LOVE to read.
One of the books I am in the process of working through is the Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoevsky. A spectacular book, with themes of socioeconomic class, sin and shame, faith and reason, ethics and morality, and so much more (of course he packs this into a book which when translated in paperback form is only about a thousand pages in length). There is a passage in the book that keeps jumping out to me, and though I am long past it in the story, I can’t seem to let it go. In this passage, the starets, Zosima, who holds this particular position of honor in the Russian Orthodox church at the local monastery, is summarizing all of his teachings weakly as his aging body is failing and he is close to death. Here is what Dostoevsky writes (translated by Constance Garnett):
“Love one another, Fathers,” said Father Zossima, as far as
Alyosha could remember afterwards. “Love God’s people. Because we have
come here and shut ourselves within these walls, we are no holier than
those that are outside, but on the contrary, from the very fact of
coming here, each of us has confessed to himself that he is worse than
others, than all men on earth…. And the longer the monk lives in his
seclusion, the more keenly he must recognise that. Else he would
have had no reason to come here. When he realises that he is not
only worse than others, but that he is responsible to all men for
all and everything, for all human sins, national and individual,
only then the aim of our seclusion is attained. For know, dear ones,
that every one of us is undoubtedly responsible for all men- and
everything on earth, not merely through the general sinfulness of
creation, but each one personally for all mankind and every individual
man. This knowledge is the crown of life for the monk and for every
man. For monks are not a special sort of men, but only what all men
ought to be. Only through that knowledge, our heart grows soft with
infinite, universal, inexhaustible love. Then every one of you will
have the power to win over the whole world by love and to wash away
the sins of the world with your tears….Each of you keep watch over
your heart and confess your sins to yourself unceasingly. Be not
afraid of your sins, even when perceiving them, if only there be
penitence, but make no conditions with God. Again, I say, be not
proud. Be proud neither to the little nor to the great. Hate not those
who reject you, who insult you, who abuse and slander you. Hate not
the atheists, the teachers of evil, the materialists- and I mean not
only the good ones- for there are many good ones among them,
especially in our day- hate not even the wicked ones. Remember them in
your prayers thus: Save, O Lord, all those who have none to pray for
them, save too all those who will not pray. And add: it is not in
pride that I make this prayer, O Lord, for I am lower than all men….
Love God’s people, let not strangers draw away the flock, for if you
slumber in your slothfulness and disdainful pride, or worse still,
in covetousness, they will come from all sides and draw away your
flock. Expound the Gospel to the people unceasingly… be not
extortionate…. Do not love gold and silver, do not hoard them….
Have faith. Cling to the banner and raise it on high.
It’s here that I originally thought I’d try to write some elegant discourse on my thoughts about this passage, but I think that I had better let Dostoevsky speak for himself this time, and come back to it in a later blog post. Suffice it to say, I am intrigued at what the starets presents as the “crown of life”, that is, the knowledge that we are not only responsible for our own actions (sins), but also all of mankind. I guess I think this is truly counter cultural if you live in America. If you have any thoughts, please share.
I ran across your blog, though not entirely by accident. Have very much enjoyed reading it. It’s just a pity you don’t post more often. You’ve left the reader wondering what the next steps on your spiritual journey were.
You’ve made a couple of astute observations here. Allowing Dostoevsky to speak for himself, brilliant. Pondering the fact that the passage is pretty counter-cultural to Americans– well done. I’d say, “quite so, sir.”