Reading The Brothers Karamazov: Part Three - The Wisdom of Zosima

A scan from my 1981 paperback.

Alyosha speaks with Katerina ineptly and this causes him a bit of guilt as he walks to the captain's cabin.  “...he decided not to think of the 'mess' he had made of things and, instead of torturing himself with remorse, to try to do what he had to do now as best he could and just hope that things would take care of themselves.  This thought cheered him up completely.” (page 235)

Thus does Alyosha reveal to the reader the wisdom that is inherent to his character.  Although Dostoevsky gives us only a few examples of it, his wisdom is deepened and matured under the guidance of Father Zosima.  This is inferred by the special way the interact with one another.  The elder monk gives Dostoevsky a podium from which he interjects the most direct Christian spirituality and philosophy in the novel.  It lets Dostoevsky “preach” to us through Zosima and other characters he encounters as his particular story is told.   

The Brothers Karamazov is largely a Christian novel.  It explores atheism and gives some fine examples of its justification (How can there be a God when children suffer and die?), but these explorations end with severe neurotic psychological consequences in Ivan.  Dostoevsky by no means gives this consequence to every atheist character in the story.  Not every atheist is neurotic or goes crazy.  This reflects the lifelong conflict within the author himself.  Dostoevsky was a Russian Orthodox Christian nevertheless intimately acquainted with materialist atheism.

Dostoevsky begins the novel with an epitaph quoting the Gospel of John 12:24.  “Verily, verily I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone;  but it it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”  This isn't an isolated happenstance.  The characters quote bits and pieces of scripture throughout the narrative, dozens of times, at least.

The Brothers Karamazov is Dostoevsky's sermon to the reader.  Through the characters of Zosima and Alyosha, we witness how Dostoevsky believed Christianity should manifest in the a world of sin, madness and suffering.  How it is possible to have deep faith and yet teach by example more so than by boastful acclamation.  This is the heart of the novel (though, of course, it is about many other things).  This is Dostoevsky's brand of Christianity.

The novel truly begins when two "fathers" meet, with the Fyodor's audience with Father Zosima.  All three of his sons are there.  Alyosha is considering becoming a monk and it is time to meet the family.  The father, Fyodor, makes a “buffoon” of himself, bowing cynically before the elder fake-begging to be told what he must do with his sinful life to gain eternal life.  

Zosima rises “smilingly” and tells Fyodor that he already knows what he must do.  Then Zosima mentions “drunkenness and incontinence of speech do not give way to sensual lust and your passion for money.”  But, most importantly according to the elder, stop lying to others and, especially, to yourself.  Then we get the first real philosophical “sermon” of the novel, Zosima declares:

“A man who lies to himself, and believes his own lies, becomes unable to recognize truth, either in himself or in anyone else, and he ends up losing respect for himself as well as for others.  When he has no respect for anyone, he can no longer love and, in order to divert himself, having no love in him, he yields to impulses, indulges in the lowest forms of pleasure, and behaves in the end like an animal, in satisfying his vices.  And it all comes from lying – lying to others and yourself.” (page 51)

Seeing that the meeting is unproductive, Zosima leaves temporarily to see a “score of visitors”, mostly peasant women, who had been waiting for him.  Here we encounter the sub-theme of children for the first time. A young mother has recently lost her child.  Zosima comforts her by telling her: “...your child stands before the throne of the Lord, rejoicing and happy, and prays to God for you.  And so you, too, weep but rejoice.” (page 56)

To another woman with less faith he admits: “...nothing can be proved, although one can be convinced...By acts of love.  Try to love your neighbors, love them actively and unceasingly.  And as you learn to love them more and more, you will be more and more convinced of the existence of God and the immortality of your soul.” (page 64)

The woman admits that “the more I love mankind as a whole, the less I love individual people.”  She is troubled by this perceptive self-insight to which Zosima offers help (thereby displaying his love for all mankind).  “...the very fact that it troubles you is enough in itself.  Do the best you can and it will stand you in good stead.”  (page 66) This hearkens to Alyosha's attitude later as revealed in the opening quote of this post.  Do the best you can do with whatever it is you are doing.

Zosima returns to continue the meeting with the Aloysha and his family only to find one of his fellow fathers in a debate about the relationship between the Church and the State.  Zosima listens as words become heated between Fyodor and Dimitry.  Zosima is quiet and patient.

“But everybody in the cell seemed perturbed.  They all, except the elder, rose nervously from their seats.  The two monks watched what was happening with stern expressions, looking at the elder to see what to do next.  The elder, however, remained seated, looking very pale, but from sheer physical exhaustion rather then emotional tension.  A wan, imploring smile twisted his lips and from time to time he would raise one of his hands, as though begging the two raving men to stop.  Of course, he could have put an end to the scene if he had wished, but he himself seemed to be waiting for something, waiting attentively, as though he were trying to make up his mind about something that was still unclear to him...” (page 84)

Suddenly, the elder rises with Alyosha assisting.  But he does not remain on his feet for long.  Asking “Forgive me!  Forgive me!” Zosima kneels before Dimitry and bows, his forehead touching the ground.  He scoots around and bows to each of his visitors, which is too much for Dimitry, who cries “Oh, my God!” and flees.  Everyone leaves, all wondering what the strange moment could mean.  

Zosima makes no attempt to explain himself, though obviously this is a humbling practice that resulted from some deeper contemplation.  Alyosha helps the tired old elder to his bedroom.  It is here that Zosima confides in Alyosha that he should leave the monastery to “seek happiness through sorrow.  Work and work without rest.”  Alyosha is convinced the bow had some mysterious motivation.  He is somewhat frightened by it.

Alyosha leaves Father Zosima's side and the story unfolds as we follow the youngest Karamazov through the rest of that day.  We do not meet the elder again for about 250 pages.  Dostoevsky devotes Book VI of the novel to revealing the background for Zosima's character.  In doing so the author provides an important break from the nonstop action of the story,  We learn about Zosima's life and how he came to become a monk.  Part of this section of the novel comes in the form of “notes” that Alyosha wrote down regarding things Zosima taught or how he conducted himself.

Alyosha has every reason to believe the old, physically weak Zosima is going to die soon.  So when he returns that evening he is surprised to see the elder sitting in a chair and enjoying the company of his fellow monk visitors. He welcomes Alyosha and encourages to enter the Zosima's small cell into which everyone is crammed.

The reader then learns why Zosima was “trying to make up his mind about something that was still unclear to him” just before he bowed to Dimitry and the others.  While observing Dimitry earlier he suddenly saw something in the oldest brother's expression.  He fathomed a “future great ordeal” for Dimitry.  Zosima bowed to him having to face his “doom.”

Zosima can sense not only the danger facing Dmitry but the deep importance of it.   As is to underline this point, Alyosha impatiently calls to Zosima “father and teacher your words are so obscure.”  To which Zosima replies that he had glimpsed “something horrible and frightening – I read his whole future in a look in his eye...my heart was filled with horror at what the man was preparing for himself.”

It is interesting to point out that, while the elder had this intense inner experience of fright, he remained only slightly perturbed outside as if he were simply “trying to make up his mind.”  This is no accidental tidbit.  Dostoevsky is showing us Father Zosima's active wisdom at work here.

The same is true of when Zosima addresses those in his cell “with a warm smile,” including lesser monks and Alyosha.  He begins by calling his audience “fathers and teachers” (page 343) which is exactly how Alyosha addressed him personally a few paragraphs earlier.  Zosima sees his relation to the others exactly the same way Alyosha views his own relationship to Zosima.  This is a highly revealing and deeply contemplative moment.

He then proceeds to tell the group, apparently for the first time, that he had an older brother that had once died before his eyes.  He tells everyone that his dead brother had a “resemblance of spirit” to Alyosha and that his coming so late in the elder's life reminds him “of the past and inspires me.”

At this point the narrative switches to stories and teachings that Alyosha wrote down during his time (since before the novel begins) with Father Zosima.  This is Dostoevsky's method of entering into a narrative mode where he can tell an incredible short story and also sermonize about the well-lived Christian life.

The short story begins with Zosima's youth and life before becoming a monk.  It has a lot of interesting twists and turns.  From an early age he questioned the gospel teachings.  In the Bible, Job does not forsake his faith in God even though God kills his children and causes him to lose his wealth.  Instead, afterwards God rewards his faith with new wealth and new children.  But what about the love he had for the ones God killed?  From such a question Zosima learns: “But he can be happy, he can know happiness again, because a mysterious process gradually transforms the old grief into a quiet happiness;  seething youth is replaced by gentle and serene old age.” (page 351)

Zosima falls in love with a young woman who loves another man.  When he can not stand it any longer, he insults the man vigorously and publicly to his face.  Times being what they were in the mid-nineteenth century, a duel ensues.  The offended man fires his pistol and the shot glances the side of Zosima's head.  A few days before the duel, Zosima, in a rage, had beaten another man.  But, instead of satisfaction he felt remorse.  He apologizes the next day to the man and carries the guilt of his action with him.

This weight is suddenly freed from Zosima when he survives the gunshot.  In turn, he refuses to fire back in the duel, to which his opponent declares him a dishonor to his regiment.  Zosima tosses his gun away and “cheerfully” declares “in a burst of passion” that everyone should “look around you and see all the things God has given us: look at the clear sky, the air that is so transparent, at the tender grass and at the birds, at the beauty of immaculate and sinless nature, in which we are only stupid, godless creatures who do not understand that life is a heaven.” (page 361)  This is one of the few times the natural world is mentioned in the novel.

Everyone is upset with Zosima for not following the protocol for duels until he admits that he has decided to quit the regiment and join a monastery.  At this they all laugh, more or less forgiving the faux pas.  This is when a “middle-aged gentlemen” who Zosima knew but who is never referred to by name enters the story.  Dostoevsky simply refers to him as “the mysterious stranger.”

This stranger is highly impressed by Zosima's behavior and visits him “almost every evening” for awhile.  The two join in profound conversations and Zosima actually learns a lot from the mysterious stranger.  Impressed with the future monk's abrupt transformation, the man states: “As to every man being answerable for everybody and everything, not just your own sins, you are absolutely right about it, and the way you succeed in grasping the idea so fully, all at once, is really remarkable.  It is true when men understand that idea, the kingdom of God will no longer be a dream but a reality.” (page 365)

Then Dostoevsky writes an important short sermon into the stranger's dialog that has some application even today: “Today everyone asserts his own personality and strives to live a full life as an individual.  But these efforts lead not to a full life but to suicide, because, instead of realizing his personality, man only slips into total isolation.  For in our age mankind has been broken into self-contained individuals, each of whom retreats into his lair, trying to stay away from the rest, hiding himself and the rest of his belongings from the rest of mankind, and finally isolating himself from people and people from him.  And, while he accumulates material wealth in his isolation, the thinks with satisfaction how mighty and secure he has become, because he is mad and cannot see that the more goods he accumulates, the deeper he sinks into suicidal impotence.” (page 366)

The man's interactions with Zosima lead to his confession that he once committed murder.  This leads the usually gloomy man to behave with “strange excitement and peculiarities of behavior.”  At long last, the man publicly confesses his past murder.  But it is so out of character for him that no one takes the respectable man's confession seriously.  They all end up blaming Zosima for this unwelcome change, not comprehending the intricacies of who and what motivated the confession.  (Side note: Ivan will later tell the complete truth in court about Fyodor's murder but no one will believe him either.)

At this point, Dostoevsky breaks off from Zosima's background story and a new chapter begins in which Alyosha recorded the “thoughts and teachings of the Elder Zosima.  I will offer  some brief quotes taken from about 15 pages of the novel.

“People are more and more moved by envy now, the the desire to satisfy their material greed, and by vanity.  Giving dinners, riding in private carriages, occupying high social positions, and having myriads of servants – these are considered so important by some that they devote their whole lives to acquiring them...”

“The result of all this is that, today, when more material goods have been accumulated than ever, there is less joy.”

“Brothers, do not fear man's sins.  Love man in his sin, too, for such love resembles God's love, the highest possible form of love on earth.  Love God's creation: love every atom of it separately, and love it also as a whole: love every green leaf, every ray of God's light: love the animals and the plants and love every inanimate object.  If you come to love all things, you will perceive God's mystery in all things.”  (page 385)  [Again, Zosima gives a rare nod to the natural world, showing that Dostoevsky understood its importance, though it is unimportant in the novel.]

Then Zosima directly echoes the mysterious stranger's affirmation earlier.  “There is one way for you to overcome these obstacles: take firm hold of yourselves and make yourselves answerable for all men's sins.  This is also the truth, friends!  For as soon as man sincerely accepts the idea that he is answerable for the sins of all men, he will realized that that is, indeed, the truth, that he is answerable for everyone and everything.  But if you seek excuses for your idleness and impotence by blaming other people, you will end up with Satan's pride and murmuring against God.” (page 387)

As Alyosha's written notes end, Father Zosima dies.  It is the evening of the day when he bowed before Dimitry and now his life is finished.  Only his teachings remain, most especially within Alyosha.  This last quote declaring “the truth” is especially noteworthy.  The truth is that we are all “answerable for everyone and everything” turns out to be the most powerful refutation of “The Grand Inquisitor.”  The powerful atheistic allowance that “everything is permitted” is countered by the fact that each of us is answerable for more than our own lives.  We each share the weight of all sinners everywhere.  This is the essential philosophical friction in the novel.

Father Zosima is a vital character to the novel.  His death marks the story's mid-point in the 900+ page book.  Yet, his wisdom lives on inside Alyosha.  Dostoevsky shows this intimately, as he does most of the other, more complex, relationships in the story.  This is why his psychological musings in the work are so effective.  Because he establishes strong intimacies, positive and negative, within his character relationships.  It totally “sells” the often wacky ways the characters are experiencing their lives.

Zosima allows Dostoevsky to explore his own Christian beliefs just as Ivan's inquisitor story allows him to objectively plumb the serious basis for atheism.  The intellectual contrast of these two sections is so critical to the novel, Dostoevsky places them side-by-side with Ivan (in a completely separate event) going first and Zosima attempting a rebuttal.  The elder teaches to love everything and take responsibility for everything.  He refers to scripture and to God and Christ firmly but sparingly.  Zosima was a teacher by example rather than words.

Of course, a lot of this “weighty nineteenth century angst” seems quaint compared to the much more sophisticated philosophical questions of today.  Though of lesser importance, the existence of God is still debated, as is the nature or existence of sin.  Sin seems to be approaching irrelevance, however, and is no longer a prominent fissure point in our culture.  We have moved on materially, as Dostoevsky warns about above.  But, instead of our “suicidal” demise, materialism led to middle class consumerism that was not dreamed of during the author's lifetime.  This makes the weight of Dostoevsky's analysis here rather simpleminded.  

I intend to examine Ivan's part of the story next.  For now, what I have written will indicate this is perhaps the point of spiritual fissure in the novel.  The contrast is stark.  Either everything is permitted or you are responsible for everything and everybody. These are two fundamentally different ways of creating values for life.  Dostoevsky leaves this fissure unresolved, as it was in his personal life.  Indeed, it might be an unsolvable tension. Certainly, having sampled atheism himself, he appreciated both points of view.  Though the novel clearly leans Christian, the author provides his readers with plenty of content to decide for themselves.