The Brothers Karamazov: A Lady of Little Faith

I guess it’s been a while since I’ve loitered around in my blog. Anyhow, I needed to write somewhere less crowded, as what I’m about to write is…probably boring to most people. But I think maybe it’s time for a brief therapy session with Dostoyevsky.

Reading The Brothers Karamazov, I’d say my progress has been at a snail’s pace. The reason is that I haven’t been able to write down my thoughts, and since I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t move on from this chapter yet.

Anyway, when I first read this chapter I thought it was just a filler. How foolish! A horrible mistake but I’m glad I was wrong.

In this chapter, the setting takes place at a monastery where an Elder Zosima is conversing with the common people and blessing them. There’s one lady who beholds the scene quietly – a lady with quite the pedigree, I would say. This lady eventually confided in the Elder. She confessed she lacked the capacity to believe in life beyond the grave. It puzzled her to the point of great agony that she could not bring herself to believe in it.

Dostoyevsky was very good at weaving dialogue here. I was at the verge of feeling the pain this lady was going through. To give you a taste of it, here’s her statement:

“I stand and look around me and see that no one could care less, or practically no one, no one who worries about this anymore, and I’m the only person who cannot endure it. It is murderous, murderous!”

At this point, I started feeling guilty; I couldn’t even remember the last time I felt the same degree of passion about something. I think this is a slap to us who are leading a lifeless, stagnant existence.

The Elder’s response to this lady was just… Have you ever felt so hot and thirsty that, upon drinking water, you experienced that heavenly relief? Maybe I’m exaggerating, but who cares. That’s the kind of comfort this Elder was able to deliver. Here’s his response:

“Without doubt, it is murderous. But here it is not possible to prove anything; it is, however, possible to be convinced.”

I came to deeply appreciate this lady, until Dostoyevsky starts ‘Dostoyevskying’ (those moments when he injects twists in a particular situation when you least expect it) …This lady dropped a bombshell. After hearing from the Elder that that is love for her fellow human beings is what would help her find conviction. This lady then proceeded to go on and on about her immeasurable love for mankind except for the fact that she expects the same love to be reciprocated in one way or another and that ingratitude instantly could make her incapable of loving someone. She’s quite frank when she said, “I’m the kind of woman who works for a reward, and I want the reward at once, in the form of praise for myself and reciprocated love.”

The Elder recalled someone who spoke to him quite frankly, much like that lady. It was a medical man who claimed to love mankind but can’t tolerate being in the same room with another person. A certain mannerism or the personality trait would irritate him, instantly turning him into a hater of human beings. The guy said, "I love mankind but I marvel at myself: the more I love mankind in general, the less I love human beings in particular, that is, as individual persons."

I’m sure many of us (or maybe a few) who can't tolerate ingratitude or certain personalities much like this lady and the medical guy. Of course, who says love is easy?

Dostoyevsky’s characters, in this scene, are so relatable. He was able to capture the mess – that inner turmoil that is so common in all of us. That conflicting feelings we often have to deal with didn’t escape Dostoyevsky’s attention, which is why his characters feel so real.

This lady was beginning to pique my interest (for real this time) when Elder Zosima saw right through her. He praised her that she was able to understand herself deeply and sincerely but pointed out that if she was doing so merely to receive praise from him for her truthfulness, she won’t get anywhere in her attempt at active love. Realizing this, she quickly confessed and acknowledged it in a very sincere manner.

This, again, feels so familiar. How many times have we done this ourselves? I’m pretty sure we don’t need an Elder Zosima to point it out for us, deep inside, we know we've done it, maybe in the past. To be honest, I don’t think I’m just reading a book here. This feels like a psychological excavation. It seems to me that Dostoyevsky does not offer neat answers or clear-cut solutions. He’s very generous; he does not take the work from us. He leaves us to make use of our own mind, to grapple with all these uncomfortable truths about ourselves.

Of course, I've barely scratched the surface. There's more to this and I'm excited for the uncomfortable truths I'll have to face in the following chapters.

I'll end this by quoting Elder Zosima's words about love:

"Fanciful love thirsts for a quick deed, swiftly accomplished, and that everyone should gaze upon it. Active love, on the other hand, involves work and self-mastery, and for some it may even become a whole science."

P.S. I’d like to thank my buddy Auggie for keeping me company the whole time. Though, I’m not sure how I feel about the AI in my camera recognizing him as “food”?! 😅