June5
Part 2 of my notes from Charles Guignon’s introduction to The Grand Inquisitor ….
Alyosha, at the end of Ivan’s Grand Inquisitor, says that Christ “gave his innocent blood for all and everything” and seems to think that this resolves the problem of suffering. It’s perfectly sensible to a devout believer, perhaps, but completely misunderstands Ivan’s attack on faith. If the problem is how God can allow the suffering of innocents, then the suffering of one more innocent is not going to make things better. Ivan is suggesting that Christianity has worsened the human condition by placing intolerable demands on humanity. It holds up two sets of irreconcilable and unattainable ideals which has increased suffering in the world.
The irreconcilable and unattainable ideals Ivan is talking about are the opposition between the Inquisitor and the figure of Christ in the story. Guignon says that because the story is placed in the 16th century when Protestantism emerged, the Grand Inquisitor represents Roman Catholicism and Jesus represents Protestantism (according to Ivan not Dostoevsky). These are two opposing but equally fundamental interpretations of the significance of Christianity. Roman Catholics have been dedicated to achieving happiness and well-being for all. Protestantism, on the other hand, stresses the freedom and dignity of the individual. The glorification of freedom that the Grand Inquisitor attributes to Christ is in line with the Protestant emphasis on the individual. Martin Luther (leader of the Protestant reformation) abolished the priesthood and denied the existence of miracles in the contemporary world. Martin Luther said that people have to find faith in the solitude of their own hearts without any worldly intermediaries or supports. The harsh demands of Protestantism mean that only an elect will achieve salvation. And as the Inquisitor noted, this puts an overwhelming burden on people.
It’s important to keep in mind that Ivan is presenting an “either/or” way of thinking. The Grand Inquisitor is like Ivan. He’s an atheist who claims to love humanity and has dreams of achieving paradise on earth through reworking human society on rational principles. Like Ivan, the Inquisitor thinks of himself as a “great idealist” who is willing to live as an ascetic in order to become a superior human being. And like Ivan, his protestations of humanitarian love mask his deep contempt for people.
Ivan rightly recognizes that his own humanitarian aims are rooted in Christian heritage. But, because he tears them out of the context of faith in which they make sense, the ideals of happiness and freedom are inconsistent with one another and therefore, according to Ivan, cannot be realized. Either we follow the Catholic dream of happiness and peace for all in a vast totalitarian state and abandon our desire for freedom and dignity (turning people into slaves), or we accept the Protestant demand of individual freedom and responsibility without worldly supports and condemn the vast majority of humanity to a life of abject misery in a war of all against all.
All the unsolved contradictions of human nature (as Ivan puts it) are embodied in these oppositions: those between Utilitarian and Kantian ethical theories, between welfare liberalism and free enterprise conservatism, and between Marxist-Leninist collectivism and Western rights-based individualism. The problem of reconciling the ideal of the greatest good of the greatest number with the ideal of individual responsibility and dignity is as pressing today as it was a century ago.
Alyosha correctly sees that Ivan has only laid out the tenets of Western forms of Christianity. Dostoevsky tries to work out an alternative understanding of the significance of Christianity through that of the Eastern Orthodox Church.
It’s easy to see that the Grand Inquisitor is motivated by pride more than by love of humanity. His show of brotherly love is really a desire for power. As Alyosha puts it, “It’s simple lust for power, for filthy earthly gain, for domination – something like a universal serfdom with them as masters – that’s all they stand for.”
Dostoevsky draws on a central tenet of the Christian tradition: God has given us a proper place in the scheme of things and any attempt to be more than what we are makes us less than human. Augustine said that God has placed us midway between the angels and the beasts and that any attempt to deny our creatureliness, to be like the angels, will leave us no better than the beasts.
In Russian spirituality, kenoticism as a way of life is considered to be of immense importance. Kenosis refers to Christ’s act of self-emptying – his submission to the most extreme humiliation and suffering in order to do the will of the Father. To live the kenotic way of life is to follow the example of Christ, accepting suffering in meekness and humility. The image of Christ shows us that we should embrace our concrete being on earth, with all its suffering and joys, without trying to be more than what we are. Dostoevsky wrote: “Christ walked on earth to show mankind that even in its earthly nature the human spirit can manifest itself in heavenly radiance, in the flesh, and not merely in dream or ideal.”
The only way to achieve release from egoistic individualism is through an act of surrender. This is the image of dying to oneself in order to be reborn into God’s grace which is fundamental to the entire Christian tradition. It’s a paradox. Victory is achieved through surrender. It is only through total release of the ego that one finds true fulfillment.
Ivan assumes that humans are isolated individuals with no real bonds to one another living in an essentially meaningless, value-neutral mechanistic universe, motivated solely by self- interest. If there is a God on such a view, he would have to be an entity located outside the world having no real connection to life on earth. So there are two choices. We either follow the path Ivan attributes to Christ and learn to live with our isolation accepting that the vast majority of human beings are condemned to a life of misery, or we follow the Grand Inquisitor and dedicate ourselves to bringing happiness and security to the masses of humans. But the only way to get people to buy into what the Grand Inquisitor offers is to superimpose the trappings of religion onto life – create an aura of “miracle, mystery and authority” – in order to give people a sense of shared purpose and community of worship. But the dilemma Ivan presents is inescapable only if we accept western assumption.
The West interprets happiness as the pleasurable feeling we get from having our desires filled, and it imagines true happiness to be the instant gratification of every desire. But as the Grand Inquisitor sees, this sort of “pleasure principle” threatens to lead to conflict among individuals who are in competition for limited resources, and for this reason he concludes that happiness is only possible within a totalitarian state.
Dostoevsky suggests that genuine happiness is found in the inner peace that comes from accepting life, together with all its joys and sufferings, on life’s own terms. It is by coming to understand that life is suffused with simple mysteries like those Zosima mentions – “it’s the great mystery of human life that old grief passes gradually into quiet tender joy” - that we find true happiness and freedom.
Ivan’s dilemma only works if we assume that humans are fundamentally isolated individuals. From the standpoint of a primordial sense of the connectedness of life, the Western image of isolated individuals motivated only by self-interest looks like a deformation of human nature rather than the bedrock “truth” about who we are.
Our aim in life is not to get into another world, but to work toward the deification of the world in which we find ourselves. Salvation is the process of not just individuals becoming divine, but of the entire world becoming divine. The divine is experienced as permeating all creation and filling everything with spiritual significance. As Zosima says, “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.” Ivan, because of his lacerated stance, is incapable of the kind of love that would enable him to comprehend the mystery in all things.
Ivan tells Alyosha prior to the telling of his Grand Inquisitor story that the only way to be free of having dirty hands in the suffering of the world is to commit suicide. But what Zosima says is that we are all accomplices in the world and so we are all responsible and guilty for what occurs. This recognition of responsibility does not point to suicide but to taking action. We are our brothers keepers. We have to embrace our own responsibility for what happens in the world and to own up to it by acting to change things. As Zosima says: “There is only one means of salvation, then: take yourself and make yourself responsible for all men’s sins,… for as soon as you sincerely make yourself responsible for everything and for all men, you will see at once that it really is so, and that you are to blame for everyone and for all things.”
The answer to the problem of suffering is not reached through theoretical insight, but through action that flows from the realization of connectedness and spiritual significance.