finished_summaries/sparknotes/The Brothers Karamazov/section_8_part_4.txt
The Brothers Karamazov.book 6.chapter 3
book 6, chapter 3
{"name": "book 6, Chapter 3", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210305110438/https://www.sparknotes.com/lit/brothersk/section9/", "summary": "From Talks and Homilies of the Elder Zosima Zosima tells Alyosha about the importance of monks in Russian life. He says that the monk is closer to the common people than anyone else, and that the faith of the common people is the hope of Russia. He says that all people are equal in spirit, and that all people should be meek with one another, so that there are no more masters and servants. Like his brother before him, Zosima urges all who hear him to love all mankind and all of God's creation. He says that no one should judge anyone else, even criminals. Instead, people should pray for the salvation of the wayward, to save them from spiritual hell. Zosima lowers himself to the floor, and, reaching out his arms as though to embrace the world, he dies.", "analysis": "Book VI: The Russian Monk, Chapters 1-3 The main philosophical conflict of the novel is apparent in the structural division between Books V and VI: the dark and brooding Book V is consumed with the tremors of Ivan's doubt, while the more peaceful Book VI is devoted to the quiet wisdom of Zosima's faith. Zosima's final anecdotes work as a cooling antidote to the disturbing arguments in Book V, replacing Ivan's frenzied logical examinations with more positive examples of the power of faith to do good in the world. In a way, the anecdote of the murderer is the exact opposite of the Grand Inquisitor story. The Grand Inquisitor story tells about an innocent man who is imprisoned and judged, while Zosima's anecdote of the murderer tells about a guilty man who is goes free and is forgiven. The contrast in the two anecdotes reveals a great deal about the contrast between Zosima's philosophy and Ivan's. Zosima emphasizes the power of love to overcome sin, whereas Ivan emphasizes only the baseness of the world and the cold logic with which he believes it must be faced. In addition to the parallel between the story of the Grand Inquisitor and the anecdote of the murderer, there are a number of other parallels between things Zosima describes in Book VI and events that take place in the larger narrative, both before and after this section of the novel. For instance, Zosima's description of himself in youth as a soldier like Dmitri, with a brother who helped to redeem him spiritually, echoes the relationship between Dmitri and Alyosha: Alyosha also helps to redeem Dmitri, and Zosima says specifically that Alyosha reminds him of his brother. Zosima's youthful duel and the murder committed in the anecdote of the murderer are both crimes of passion committed for a woman's love, and thus echo the rivalry between Fyodor Pavlovich and Dmitri for Grushenka. The murderer's acceptance of responsibility and his desire to confess involve many of the same issues of responsibility and redemption that affect Ivan. These parallels ultimately are another sign of the infallible wisdom of Zosima. He is able to predict, better than anyone else, what lies ahead for the Karamazovs, and he is thus able to tailor his final lesson to what he knows will be Alyosha's needs in the coming crisis. Alyosha has proved himself capable of internalizing Zosima's lessons, and he emerges from this final conversation with Zosima better prepared to handle the hardships that lie ahead. Zosima's death, as he stretches out his arms to embrace the Earth, is a symbol of acceptance and faith, indicating his love of God's creation with the last energy left in his body. Zosima's sincerity and his assent to the will of God are total. He does not die with fear, resentment, or regret. His final gesture is one of rapturous acquiescence, and thus Zosima's death works as an emblem of everything he has taught, spoken, and stood for throughout the novel"}
Chapter III. Conversations And Exhortations Of Father Zossima


_(e) The Russian Monk and his possible Significance_

Fathers and teachers, what is the monk? In the cultivated world the word
is nowadays pronounced by some people with a jeer, and by others it is
used as a term of abuse, and this contempt for the monk is growing. It is
true, alas, it is true, that there are many sluggards, gluttons,
profligates and insolent beggars among monks. Educated people point to
these: "You are idlers, useless members of society, you live on the labor
of others, you are shameless beggars." And yet how many meek and humble
monks there are, yearning for solitude and fervent prayer in peace! These
are less noticed, or passed over in silence. And how surprised men would
be if I were to say that from these meek monks, who yearn for solitary
prayer, the salvation of Russia will come perhaps once more! For they are
in truth made ready in peace and quiet "for the day and the hour, the
month and the year." Meanwhile, in their solitude, they keep the image of
Christ fair and undefiled, in the purity of God's truth, from the times of
the Fathers of old, the Apostles and the martyrs. And when the time comes
they will show it to the tottering creeds of the world. That is a great
thought. That star will rise out of the East.

That is my view of the monk, and is it false? is it too proud? Look at the
worldly and all who set themselves up above the people of God, has not
God's image and His truth been distorted in them? They have science; but
in science there is nothing but what is the object of sense. The spiritual
world, the higher part of man's being is rejected altogether, dismissed
with a sort of triumph, even with hatred. The world has proclaimed the
reign of freedom, especially of late, but what do we see in this freedom
of theirs? Nothing but slavery and self-destruction! For the world says:

"You have desires and so satisfy them, for you have the same rights as the
most rich and powerful. Don't be afraid of satisfying them and even
multiply your desires." That is the modern doctrine of the world. In that
they see freedom. And what follows from this right of multiplication of
desires? In the rich, isolation and spiritual suicide; in the poor, envy
and murder; for they have been given rights, but have not been shown the
means of satisfying their wants. They maintain that the world is getting
more and more united, more and more bound together in brotherly community,
as it overcomes distance and sets thoughts flying through the air.

Alas, put no faith in such a bond of union. 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. We see the same thing among those who are not rich, while the
poor drown their unsatisfied need and their envy in drunkenness. But soon
they will drink blood instead of wine, they are being led on to it. I ask
you is such a man free? I knew one "champion of freedom" who told me
himself that, when he was deprived of tobacco in prison, he was so
wretched at the privation that he almost went and betrayed his cause for
the sake of getting tobacco again! And such a man says, "I am fighting for
the cause of humanity."

How can such a one fight? what is he fit for? He is capable perhaps of
some action quickly over, but he cannot hold out long. And it's no wonder
that instead of gaining freedom they have sunk into slavery, and instead
of serving the cause of brotherly love and the union of humanity have
fallen, on the contrary, into dissension and isolation, as my mysterious
visitor and teacher said to me in my youth. And therefore the idea of the
service of humanity, of brotherly love and the solidarity of mankind, is
more and more dying out in the world, and indeed this idea is sometimes
treated with derision. For how can a man shake off his habits? What can
become of him if he is in such bondage to the habit of satisfying the
innumerable desires he has created for himself? He is isolated, and what
concern has he with the rest of humanity? They have succeeded in
accumulating a greater mass of objects, but the joy in the world has grown
less.

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. Which is most capable of
conceiving a great idea and serving it--the rich man in his isolation or
the man who has freed himself from the tyranny of material things and
habits? The monk is reproached for his solitude, "You have secluded
yourself within the walls of the monastery for your own salvation, and
have forgotten the brotherly service of humanity!" But we shall see which
will be most zealous in the cause of brotherly love. For it is not we, but
they, who are in isolation, though they don't see that. Of old, leaders of
the people came from among us, and why should they not again? The same
meek and humble ascetics will rise up and go out to work for the great
cause. The salvation of Russia comes from the people. And the Russian monk
has always been on the side of the people. We are isolated only if the
people are isolated. 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. Remember that! The people will meet the atheist and overcome
him, and Russia will be one and orthodox. Take care of the peasant and
guard his heart. Go on educating him quietly. That's your duty as monks,
for the peasant has God in his heart.

(_f_) _Of Masters and Servants, and of whether it is possible for them to
be Brothers in the Spirit_

Of course, I don't deny that there is sin in the peasants too. And the
fire of corruption is spreading visibly, hourly, working from above
downwards. The spirit of isolation is coming upon the people too. Money-
lenders and devourers of the commune are rising up. Already the merchant
grows more and more eager for rank, and strives to show himself cultured
though he has not a trace of culture, and to this end meanly despises his
old traditions, and is even ashamed of the faith of his fathers. He visits
princes, though he is only a peasant corrupted. The peasants are rotting
in drunkenness and cannot shake off the habit. And what cruelty to their
wives, to their children even! All from drunkenness! I've seen in the
factories children of nine years old, frail, rickety, bent and already
depraved. The stuffy workshop, the din of machinery, work all day long,
the vile language and the drink, the drink--is that what a little child's
heart needs? He needs sunshine, childish play, good examples all about
him, and at least a little love. There must be no more of this, monks, no
more torturing of children, rise up and preach that, make haste, make
haste!

But God will save Russia, for though the peasants are corrupted and cannot
renounce their filthy sin, yet they know it is cursed by God and that they
do wrong in sinning. So that our people still believe in righteousness,
have faith in God and weep tears of devotion.

It is different with the upper classes. 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? In
Europe the people are already rising up against the rich with violence,
and the leaders of the people are everywhere leading them to bloodshed,
and teaching them that their wrath is righteous. But their "wrath is
accursed, for it is cruel." But God will save Russia as He has saved her
many times. Salvation will come from the people, from their faith and
their meekness.

Fathers and teachers, watch over the people's faith and this will not be a
dream. I've been struck all my life in our great people by their dignity,
their true and seemly dignity. I've seen it myself, I can testify to it,
I've seen it and marveled at it, I've seen it in spite of the degraded
sins and poverty-stricken appearance of our peasantry. They are not
servile, and even after two centuries of serfdom they are free in manner
and bearing, yet without insolence, and not revengeful and not envious.
"You are rich and noble, you are clever and talented, well, be so, God
bless you. I respect you, but I know that I too am a man. By the very fact
that I respect you without envy I prove my dignity as a man."

In truth if they don't say this (for they don't know how to say this yet),
that is how they act. I have seen it myself, I have known it myself, and,
would you believe it, the poorer our Russian peasant is, the more
noticeable is that serene goodness, for the rich among them are for the
most part corrupted already, and much of that is due to our carelessness
and indifference. But God will save His people, for Russia is great in her
humility. I dream of seeing, and seem to see clearly already, our future.
It will come to pass, that even the most corrupt of our rich will end by
being ashamed of his riches before the poor, and the poor, seeing his
humility, will understand and give way before him, will respond joyfully
and kindly to his honorable shame. Believe me that it will end in that;
things are moving to that. Equality is to be found only in the spiritual
dignity of man, and that will only be understood among us. If we were
brothers, there would be fraternity, but before that, they will never
agree about the division of wealth. We preserve the image of Christ, and
it will shine forth like a precious diamond to the whole world. So may it
be, so may it be!

Fathers and teachers, a touching incident befell me once. In my wanderings
I met in the town of K. my old orderly, Afanasy. It was eight years since
I had parted from him. He chanced to see me in the market-place,
recognized me, ran up to me, and how delighted he was! He simply pounced
on me: "Master dear, is it you? Is it really you I see?" He took me home
with him.

He was no longer in the army, he was married and already had two little
children. He and his wife earned their living as costermongers in the
market-place. His room was poor, but bright and clean. He made me sit
down, set the samovar, sent for his wife, as though my appearance were a
festival for them. He brought me his children: "Bless them, Father."

"Is it for me to bless them? I am only a humble monk. I will pray for
them. And for you, Afanasy Pavlovitch, I have prayed every day since that
day, for it all came from you," said I. And I explained that to him as
well as I could. And what do you think? The man kept gazing at me and
could not believe that I, his former master, an officer, was now before
him in such a guise and position; it made him shed tears.

"Why are you weeping?" said I, "better rejoice over me, dear friend, whom
I can never forget, for my path is a glad and joyful one."

He did not say much, but kept sighing and shaking his head over me
tenderly.

"What has became of your fortune?" he asked.

"I gave it to the monastery," I answered; "we live in common."

After tea I began saying good-by, and suddenly he brought out half a
rouble as an offering to the monastery, and another half-rouble I saw him
thrusting hurriedly into my hand: "That's for you in your wanderings, it
may be of use to you, Father."

I took his half-rouble, bowed to him and his wife, and went out rejoicing.
And on my way I thought: "Here we are both now, he at home and I on the
road, sighing and shaking our heads, no doubt, and yet smiling joyfully in
the gladness of our hearts, remembering how God brought about our
meeting."

I have never seen him again since then. I had been his master and he my
servant, but now when we exchanged a loving kiss with softened hearts,
there was a great human bond between us. I have thought a great deal about
that, and now what I think is this: Is it so inconceivable that that grand
and simple-hearted unity might in due time become universal among the
Russian people? I believe that it will come to pass and that the time is
at hand.

And of servants I will add this: In old days when I was young I was often
angry with servants; "the cook had served something too hot, the orderly
had not brushed my clothes." But what taught me better then was a thought
of my dear brother's, which I had heard from him in childhood: "Am I worth
it, that another should serve me and be ordered about by me in his poverty
and ignorance?" And I wondered at the time that such simple and self-
evident ideas should be so slow to occur to our minds.

It is impossible that there should be no servants in the world, but act so
that your servant may be freer in spirit than if he were not a servant.
And why cannot I be a servant to my servant and even let him see it, and
that without any pride on my part or any mistrust on his? Why should not
my servant be like my own kindred, so that I may take him into my family
and rejoice in doing so? Even now this can be done, but it will lead to
the grand unity of men in the future, when a man will not seek servants
for himself, or desire to turn his fellow creatures into servants as he
does now, but on the contrary, will long with his whole heart to be the
servant of all, as the Gospel teaches.

And can it be a dream, that in the end man will find his joy only in deeds
of light and mercy, and not in cruel pleasures as now, in gluttony,
fornication, ostentation, boasting and envious rivalry of one with the
other? I firmly believe that it is not and that the time is at hand.
People laugh and ask: "When will that time come and does it look like
coming?" I believe that with Christ's help we shall accomplish this great
thing. And how many ideas there have been on earth in the history of man
which were unthinkable ten years before they appeared! Yet when their
destined hour had come, they came forth and spread over the whole earth.
So it will be with us, and our people will shine forth in the world, and
all men will say: "The stone which the builders rejected has become the
corner-stone of the building."

And we may ask the scornful themselves: If our hope is a dream, when will
you build up your edifice and order things justly by your intellect alone,
without Christ? If they declare that it is they who are advancing towards
unity, only the most simple-hearted among them believe it, so that one may
positively marvel at such simplicity. Of a truth, they have more fantastic
dreams than we. They aim at justice, but, denying Christ, they will end by
flooding the earth with blood, for blood cries out for blood, and he that
taketh up the sword shall perish by the sword. And if it were not for
Christ's covenant, they would slaughter one another down to the last two
men on earth. And those two last men would not be able to restrain each
other in their pride, and the one would slay the other and then himself.
And that would come to pass, were it not for the promise of Christ that
for the sake of the humble and meek the days shall be shortened.

While I was still wearing an officer's uniform after my duel, I talked
about servants in general society, and I remember every one was amazed at
me. "What!" they asked, "are we to make our servants sit down on the sofa
and offer them tea?" And I answered them: "Why not, sometimes at least?"
Every one laughed. Their question was frivolous and my answer was not
clear; but the thought in it was to some extent right.

(_g_) _Of Prayer, of Love, and of Contact with other Worlds_

Young man, be not forgetful of prayer. Every time you pray, if your prayer
is sincere, there will be new feeling and new meaning in it, which will
give you fresh courage, and you will understand that prayer is an
education. Remember, too, every day, and whenever you can, repeat to
yourself, "Lord, have mercy on all who appear before Thee to-day." For
every hour and every moment thousands of men leave life on this earth, and
their souls appear before God. And how many of them depart in solitude,
unknown, sad, dejected that no one mourns for them or even knows whether
they have lived or not! And behold, from the other end of the earth
perhaps, your prayer for their rest will rise up to God though you knew
them not nor they you. How touching it must be to a soul standing in dread
before the Lord to feel at that instant that, for him too, there is one to
pray, that there is a fellow creature left on earth to love him too! And
God will look on you both more graciously, for if you have had so much
pity on him, how much will He have pity Who is infinitely more loving and
merciful than you! And He will forgive him for your sake.

Brothers, have no fear of men's sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that
is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth. Love all
God's creation, the whole and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf,
every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love
everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery
in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better
every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-
embracing love. 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! Love children especially, for they too are sinless like
the angels; they live to soften and purify our hearts and as it were to
guide us. Woe to him who offends a child! Father Anfim taught me to love
children. The kind, silent man used often on our wanderings to spend the
farthings given us on sweets and cakes for the children. He could not pass
by a child without emotion. That's the nature of the man.

At some thoughts one stands perplexed, especially at the sight of men's
sin, and wonders whether one should use force or humble love. Always
decide to use humble love. If you resolve on that once for all, you may
subdue the whole world. Loving humility is marvelously strong, the
strongest of all things, and there is nothing else like it.

Every day and every hour, every minute, walk round yourself and watch
yourself, and see that your image is a seemly one. You pass by a little
child, you pass by, spiteful, with ugly words, with wrathful heart; you
may not have noticed the child, but he has seen you, and your image,
unseemly and ignoble, may remain in his defenseless heart. You don't know
it, but you may have sown an evil seed in him and it may grow, and all
because you were not careful before the child, because you did not foster
in yourself a careful, actively benevolent love. Brothers, love is a
teacher; but one must know how to acquire it, for it is hard to acquire,
it is dearly bought, it is won slowly by long labor. For we must love not
only occasionally, for a moment, but for ever. Every one can love
occasionally, even the wicked can.

My brother asked the birds to forgive him; that sounds senseless, but it
is right; for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending; a touch
in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth. It may be
senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but birds would be happier at
your side--a little happier, anyway--and children and all animals, if you
were nobler than you are now. It's all like an ocean, I tell you. Then you
would pray to the birds too, consumed by an all-embracing love, in a sort
of transport, and pray that they too will forgive you your sin. Treasure
this ecstasy, however senseless it may seem to men.

My friends, pray to God for gladness. Be glad as children, as the birds of
heaven. And let not the sin of men confound you in your doings. Fear not
that it will wear away your work and hinder its being accomplished. Do not
say, "Sin is mighty, wickedness is mighty, evil environment is mighty, and
we are lonely and helpless, and evil environment is wearing us away and
hindering our good work from being done." Fly from that dejection,
children! There is only one means of salvation, then take yourself and
make yourself responsible for all men's sins, that is the truth, you know,
friends, for as soon as you sincerely make yourself responsible for
everything and for all men, you will see at once that it is really so, and
that you are to blame for every one and for all things. But throwing your
own indolence and impotence on others you will end by sharing the pride of
Satan and murmuring against God.

Of the pride of Satan what I think is this: it is hard for us on earth to
comprehend it, and therefore it is so easy to fall into error and to share
it, even imagining that we are doing something grand and fine. Indeed,
many of the strongest feelings and movements of our nature we cannot
comprehend on earth. Let not that be a stumbling-block, and think not that
it may serve as a justification to you for anything. For the Eternal Judge
asks of you what you can comprehend and not what you cannot. You will know
that yourself hereafter, for you will behold all things truly then and
will not dispute them. On earth, indeed, we are as it were astray, and if
it were not for the precious image of Christ before us, we should be
undone and altogether lost, as was the human race before the flood. Much
on earth is hidden from us, but to make up for that we have been given a
precious mystic sense of our living bond with the other world, with the
higher heavenly world, and the roots of our thoughts and feelings are not
here but in other worlds. That is why the philosophers say that we cannot
apprehend the reality of things on earth.

God took seeds from different worlds and sowed them on this earth, and His
garden grew up and everything came up that could come up, but what grows
lives and is alive only through the feeling of its contact with other
mysterious worlds. If that feeling grows weak or is destroyed in you, the
heavenly growth will die away in you. Then you will be indifferent to life
and even grow to hate it. That's what I think.

_(h) Can a Man judge his Fellow Creatures? Faith to the End_

Remember particularly that you cannot be a judge of any one. For no one
can judge a criminal, until he recognizes that he is just such a criminal
as the man standing before him, and that he perhaps is more than all men
to blame for that crime. When he understands that, he will be able to be a
judge. Though that sounds absurd, it is true. If I had been righteous
myself, perhaps there would have been no criminal standing before me. If
you can take upon yourself the crime of the criminal your heart is
judging, take it at once, suffer for him yourself, and let him go without
reproach. And even if the law itself makes you his judge, act in the same
spirit so far as possible, for he will go away and condemn himself more
bitterly than you have done. If, after your kiss, he goes away untouched,
mocking at you, do not let that be a stumbling-block to you. It shows his
time has not yet come, but it will come in due course. And if it come not,
no matter; if not he, then another in his place will understand and
suffer, and judge and condemn himself, and the truth will be fulfilled.
Believe that, believe it without doubt; for in that lies all the hope and
faith of the saints.

Work without ceasing. If you remember in the night as you go to sleep, "I
have not done what I ought to have done," rise up at once and do it. If
the people around you are spiteful and callous and will not hear you, fall
down before them and beg their forgiveness; for in truth you are to blame
for their not wanting to hear you. And if you cannot speak to them in
their bitterness, serve them in silence and in humility, never losing
hope. If all men abandon you and even drive you away by force, then when
you are left alone fall on the earth and kiss it, water it with your tears
and it will bring forth fruit even though no one has seen or heard you in
your solitude. Believe to the end, even if all men went astray and you
were left the only one faithful; bring your offering even then and praise
God in your loneliness. And if two of you are gathered together--then there
is a whole world, a world of living love. Embrace each other tenderly and
praise God, for if only in you two His truth has been fulfilled.

If you sin yourself and grieve even unto death for your sins or for your
sudden sin, then rejoice for others, rejoice for the righteous man,
rejoice that if you have sinned, he is righteous and has not sinned.

If the evil-doing of men moves you to indignation and overwhelming
distress, even to a desire for vengeance on the evil-doers, shun above all
things that feeling. Go at once and seek suffering for yourself, as though
you were yourself guilty of that wrong. Accept that suffering and bear it
and your heart will find comfort, and you will understand that you too are
guilty, for you might have been a light to the evil-doers, even as the one
man sinless, and you were not a light to them. If you had been a light,
you would have lightened the path for others too, and the evil-doer might
perhaps have been saved by your light from his sin. And even though your
light was shining, yet you see men were not saved by it, hold firm and
doubt not the power of the heavenly light. Believe that if they were not
saved, they will be saved hereafter. And if they are not saved hereafter,
then their sons will be saved, for your light will not die even when you
are dead. The righteous man departs, but his light remains. Men are always
saved after the death of the deliverer. Men reject their prophets and slay
them, but they love their martyrs and honor those whom they have slain.
You are working for the whole, you are acting for the future. Seek no
reward, for great is your reward on this earth: the spiritual joy which is
only vouchsafed to the righteous man. Fear not the great nor the mighty,
but be wise and ever serene. Know the measure, know the times, study that.
When you are left alone, pray. Love to throw yourself on the earth and
kiss it. Kiss the earth and love it with an unceasing, consuming love.
Love all men, love everything. Seek that rapture and ecstasy. Water the
earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears. Don't be ashamed of
that ecstasy, prize it, for it is a gift of God and a great one; it is not
given to many but only to the elect.

_(i) Of Hell and Hell Fire, a Mystic Reflection_

Fathers and teachers, I ponder, "What is hell?" I maintain that it is the
suffering of being unable to love. Once in infinite existence,
immeasurable in time and space, a spiritual creature was given on his
coming to earth, the power of saying, "I am and I love." Once, only once,
there was given him a moment of active _living_ love, and for that was
earthly life given him, and with it times and seasons. And that happy
creature rejected the priceless gift, prized it and loved it not, scorned
it and remained callous. Such a one, having left the earth, sees Abraham's
bosom and talks with Abraham as we are told in the parable of the rich man
and Lazarus, and beholds heaven and can go up to the Lord. But that is
just his torment, to rise up to the Lord without ever having loved, to be
brought close to those who have loved when he has despised their love. For
he sees clearly and says to himself, "Now I have understanding, and though
I now thirst to love, there will be nothing great, no sacrifice in my
love, for my earthly life is over, and Abraham will not come even with a
drop of living water (that is the gift of earthly active life) to cool the
fiery thirst of spiritual love which burns in me now, though I despised it
on earth; there is no more life for me and will be no more time! Even
though I would gladly give my life for others, it can never be, for that
life is passed which can be sacrificed for love, and now there is a gulf
fixed between that life and this existence."

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 material sense, they
would be glad of it, for I imagine that in material agony, their still
greater spiritual agony would be forgotten for a moment. Moreover, that
spiritual agony cannot be taken from them, for that suffering is not
external but within them. And if it could be taken from them, I think it
would be bitterer still for the unhappy creatures. For even if the
righteous in Paradise forgave them, beholding their torments, and called
them up to heaven in their infinite love, they would only multiply their
torments, for they would arouse in them still more keenly a flaming thirst
for responsive, active and grateful love which is now impossible. In the
timidity of my heart I imagine, however, that the very recognition of this
impossibility would serve at last to console them. For accepting the love
of the righteous together with the impossibility of repaying it, by this
submissiveness and the effect of this humility, they will attain at last,
as it were, to a certain semblance of that active love which they scorned
in life, to something like its outward expression.... I am sorry, friends
and brothers, that I cannot express this clearly. But woe to those who
have slain themselves on earth, woe to the suicides! I believe that there
can be none more miserable then they. They tell us that it is a sin to
pray for them and outwardly the Church, as it were, renounces them, but in
my secret heart I believe that we may pray even for them. Love can never
be an offense to Christ. For such as those I have prayed inwardly all my
life, I confess it, fathers and teachers, and even now I pray for them
every day.

Oh, there are some who remain proud and fierce even in hell, in spite of
their certain knowledge and contemplation of the absolute truth; there are
some fearful ones who have given themselves over to Satan and his proud
spirit entirely. For such, hell 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. But they are never satisfied,
and they refuse forgiveness, they curse God Who calls them. They cannot
behold the living God without hatred, and they cry out that the God of
life should be annihilated, that God should destroy Himself and His own
creation. And they will burn in the fire of their own wrath for ever and
yearn for death and annihilation. But they will not attain to death....

                  -------------------------------------

Here Alexey Fyodorovitch Karamazov's manuscript ends. I repeat, it is
incomplete and fragmentary. Biographical details, for instance, cover only
Father Zossima's earliest youth. Of his teaching and opinions we find
brought together sayings evidently uttered on very different occasions.
His utterances during the last few hours have not been kept separate from
the rest, but their general character can be gathered from what we have in
Alexey Fyodorovitch's manuscript.

The elder's death came in the end quite unexpectedly. For although those
who were gathered about him that last evening realized that his death was
approaching, yet it was difficult to imagine that it would come so
suddenly. On the contrary, his friends, as I observed already, seeing him
that night apparently so cheerful and talkative, were convinced that there
was at least a temporary change for the better in his condition. Even five
minutes before his death, they said afterwards wonderingly, it was
impossible to foresee it. He seemed suddenly to feel an acute pain in his
chest, he turned pale and pressed his hands to his heart. All rose from
their seats and hastened to him. But though suffering, he still looked at
them with a smile, sank slowly from his chair on to his knees, then bowed
his face to the ground, stretched out his arms and as though in joyful
ecstasy, praying and kissing the ground, quietly and joyfully gave up his
soul to God.

The news of his death spread at once through the hermitage and reached the
monastery. The nearest friends of the deceased and those whose duty it was
from their position began to lay out the corpse according to the ancient
ritual, and all the monks gathered together in the church. And before dawn
the news of the death reached the town. By the morning all the town was
talking of the event, and crowds were flocking from the town to the
monastery. But this subject will be treated in the next book; I will only
add here that before a day had passed something happened so unexpected, so
strange, upsetting, and bewildering in its effect on the monks and the
townspeople, that after all these years, that day of general suspense is
still vividly remembered in the town.







book 6, Chapter 3
From Talks and Homilies of the Elder Zosima Zosima tells Alyosha about the importance of monks in Russian life. He says that the monk is closer to the common people than anyone else, and that the faith of the common people is the hope of Russia. He says that all people are equal in spirit, and that all people should be meek with one another, so that there are no more masters and servants. Like his brother before him, Zosima urges all who hear him to love all mankind and all of God's creation. He says that no one should judge anyone else, even criminals. Instead, people should pray for the salvation of the wayward, to save them from spiritual hell. Zosima lowers himself to the floor, and, reaching out his arms as though to embrace the world, he dies.
Book VI: The Russian Monk, Chapters 1-3 The main philosophical conflict of the novel is apparent in the structural division between Books V and VI: the dark and brooding Book V is consumed with the tremors of Ivan's doubt, while the more peaceful Book VI is devoted to the quiet wisdom of Zosima's faith. Zosima's final anecdotes work as a cooling antidote to the disturbing arguments in Book V, replacing Ivan's frenzied logical examinations with more positive examples of the power of faith to do good in the world. In a way, the anecdote of the murderer is the exact opposite of the Grand Inquisitor story. The Grand Inquisitor story tells about an innocent man who is imprisoned and judged, while Zosima's anecdote of the murderer tells about a guilty man who is goes free and is forgiven. The contrast in the two anecdotes reveals a great deal about the contrast between Zosima's philosophy and Ivan's. Zosima emphasizes the power of love to overcome sin, whereas Ivan emphasizes only the baseness of the world and the cold logic with which he believes it must be faced. In addition to the parallel between the story of the Grand Inquisitor and the anecdote of the murderer, there are a number of other parallels between things Zosima describes in Book VI and events that take place in the larger narrative, both before and after this section of the novel. For instance, Zosima's description of himself in youth as a soldier like Dmitri, with a brother who helped to redeem him spiritually, echoes the relationship between Dmitri and Alyosha: Alyosha also helps to redeem Dmitri, and Zosima says specifically that Alyosha reminds him of his brother. Zosima's youthful duel and the murder committed in the anecdote of the murderer are both crimes of passion committed for a woman's love, and thus echo the rivalry between Fyodor Pavlovich and Dmitri for Grushenka. The murderer's acceptance of responsibility and his desire to confess involve many of the same issues of responsibility and redemption that affect Ivan. These parallels ultimately are another sign of the infallible wisdom of Zosima. He is able to predict, better than anyone else, what lies ahead for the Karamazovs, and he is thus able to tailor his final lesson to what he knows will be Alyosha's needs in the coming crisis. Alyosha has proved himself capable of internalizing Zosima's lessons, and he emerges from this final conversation with Zosima better prepared to handle the hardships that lie ahead. Zosima's death, as he stretches out his arms to embrace the Earth, is a symbol of acceptance and faith, indicating his love of God's creation with the last energy left in his body. Zosima's sincerity and his assent to the will of God are total. He does not die with fear, resentment, or regret. His final gesture is one of rapturous acquiescence, and thus Zosima's death works as an emblem of everything he has taught, spoken, and stood for throughout the novel