Suffering Children and the Suffering God
I. Introduction
Since the dawning of the modern period, literature has become exceedingly divorced from any serious engagement with the principles of revealed religion. Many children of the Enlightenment, Voltaire chief among them, cast an imposing shadow of influence upon the literary world by contributing both to a philosophical tradition critical of Christianity as well as to a shift in the conception of what a true author should be. The popular ideal of literature that resulted was one of a discourse claiming its own domain of competence: secular and humanist, largely incompatible and even hostile toward theological themes. And yet, since the modern turn, no figure stands out as prominently as Fyodor Dostoevsky among authors of faith attempting to overcome the Enlightenment paradigm. And his prominence derives precisely from his appropriation and serious engagement with the anti-Christian traditions preceding him. For Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov presents the cumulated critical voices of the Enlightenment’s challenge to faith, as well as a heartfelt Christian response to that outcry. In fact, Dostoevsky claims that few could conceive of a stronger denial of God than that expressed in his work; a denial that his Brothers Karamazov is an intended response to: “You might search
Thus, we shall proceed as follows: first, we will illuminate the backdrop upon which Ivan Karamazov finds himself by analyzing more specifically his indebtedness to Voltaire and the Enlightenment. Next, we will examine Ivan’s critique of theodicy as it is presented in “Rebellion” and his proposed alternative to God in the exegesis of “The Grand Inquisitor.” We will then examine the practical consequences of Ivan’s atheism and its relation to the nihilism of “The Devil” and the character of Smerdyakov. Finally, we will examine the particular nature of the Christian God that is imaged by characters such as Alyosha and Zosima and determine whether Ivan’s critique applies or whether an alternative and unique account of God’s relation to suffering can be constructed.;
In “The Poem on the Lisbon Disaster,” a reflection on the devastating earthquake of 1755, Voltaire continues the critique against some of the logical consequences of Leibniz’s argument with more attention given to God. Just as Ivan will, out of empathy, stand in the place of suffering children, so too does Voltaire stand in for the innocent victims at
The poem argues implicitly along the lines of the ancient atheist argument from evil; one that was soon to be modernized by David Hume in his Dialogues Concerning Natural Religion (a work begun roughly the same year as the Lisbon disaster). It is usually expressed in something akin to the following form: if God is omnipotent yet allows evil, how can his will be perfectly good? If God’s will is perfectly good and yet evil occurs, how can he be omnipotent? In the “Poem,” we see a similar logic: it concludes that God is either a sadistic and malevolent character, or he is passionless and coldly indifferent to the plight of man: “God either smites the inborn guilt of man,/ Or, arbitrary lord of space and time,/ Devoid alike of pity and of wrath,/ Pursues the cold designs he has conceived.”[14] Thus, in Candide we find an attack on senseless attempts to rectify suffering in an innately chaotic world; and in the “Poem,” we find the same attack on attempts to rectify a loving and all-powerful God with the suffering of the world he’s crafted. Amid these cries we hear also Voltaire’s critique of intellectualism and his focus on practicality, as well as his empathetic concern for suffering innocents. And these are precisely the concerns that Dostoevsky intended his audience to recognize in Ivan: as the one to whom Voltaire had passed the Promethean torch.
The notion of a practical atheism is intimately connected with Voltaire’s emphases. The litmus test which God has failed is: how can one’s vision be lived, in a day-to-day existence? The atheism denies the relevance of God for one’s morality and one’s way of life. Yet in the absence of God, what answer can be given? We find Ivan’s answer in the following chapter: “The Grand Inquisitor.”[23] Here Ivan carries on his discourse by way of a poem in which Christ appears in 16th century
And yet Dostoevsky reveals the complications of such a (literally) demonic utopian vision. When “The Grand Inquisitor” is contextualized within the larger narrative of The Brothers Karamazov, the shortcomings of Ivan’s vision become apparent. In rejecting God, Ivan rejects the eschatological dimension to morality and earthly comfort becomes the only narrow moral standard. The grand inquisitor sees moral freedom as a burden and as long as the minimum service required to achieve comfort is paid, one is actually encouraged to sin; that is, a number of acts no longer have ethical value and are thus permitted. Similarly, in rejecting God, Ivan explicitly rejects the immortality of the soul. In doing so, he seems to jettison the only thing that grounds the enduring value of humanity.[26] One can see quite clearly how these features of the atheist answer lead rather seamlessly to the complete evacuation of moral value and responsibility: the “everything is permitted” of a practical nihilism. “Everything is permitted” is a maxim that Ivan explicitly accepts. In this sense, the atheist position undermines itself: its attempt to deal with evil and suffering does not end with a solution to theodicy, but rather a failed attempt to minimize suffering in this life. In doing so it only succeeds in creating a world of valueless morality, one that is ultimately as indifferent to suffering as the god that it rejected in the first place. The atheist has only crafted an idol of himself where a god once stood, and ultimately betrays the deep concern for humanity and justice that inspired his attack on the divine in the first place. Thus, what we have here in place of an eschatological theodicy is what Richard Bauckham calls an “eschatological anthropodicy.”[27] And this falls inevitably into a practical nihilism.
One can trace this devolution in the characters of Smerdyakov and the Devil. Smerdyakov, the story’s murderer, takes his own life; but not before revealing to Ivan that it was precisely his rejection of God and of immortality that gave him the philosophical justification for murder.[28] Smerdyakov embodies the dark implications of Ivan’s morality, exposing its emptiness and eventual impracticality. Faced with the frightening, concrete consequences of his philosophy as well as Smerdyakov’s accusations, Ivan begins to lose his grip on reality.[29] Enter the Devil (in “The Devil. Ivan Fyodorovich’s Nightmare”). Beyond the actions of Smerdyakov, Ivan encounters the nihilism and emptiness of his vision in the incarnation of the very Promethean figure that “The Grand Inquisitor” hailed. Yet here we do not find
It is crucial to note that in The Brothers Karamazov, the God of Jesus Christ does not offer us an explanation for evil, nor does He attempt to exonerate it. Dostoevsky is still functioning according to the same standard laid down by Voltaire: the integrity of one’s vision lies in its ability to be translated into a way of life. Is it possible to put forth, in response to a practical atheism, a practical theism; one that has passed through the furnace of doubt? As we have seen, the atheist response to suffering results in a betrayal of Ivan’s initial outcry against the injustice of suffering. What we find in Christ is a God who does not silence such an outcry, but actually appropriates it, sustains it, and Himself cries out against the senselessness of evil. In Christ alone do we find the narrative of a God who actually inhabits the space of the suffering child: Christ is innocent as man, and yet a Son abandoned by His Father to unthinkable suffering and death on the cross. Unlike the god of the philosophers, we have here a God who lives the drama of the suffering child in His very being. And as Bauckham and Moltmann note, in the “Eloi, Eloi…” of Christ’s cry of dereliction, the suffering child finds a “protesting God” in solidarity with him: God crying out against Himself![35] The Christian God is not simply the creator of an unjust world, but also the God who denounces the injustice of that world. As paradoxical as this divided God may seem, the crucial point is that Christ actually stands in solidarity both with suffering innocents (because He suffers innocently) and with Ivan (because He cries out against suffering). While in Ivan’s parable Christ is silent, it seems that had he read Mark 13:34, he would have found a Christ shouting at least as loud as he himself does.
And yet we have seen that Ivan’s atheist position ultimately tends toward nihilism, and thus the abandonment of the foundation of his initial cause. The next logical question is: insofar as God Himself takes up this cause in the crucified Christ, does He likewise undermine that cause or is He able to uphold it? Does Christ’s protest translate into a functioning way of life?
If one looks to the characters of Zosima and Alyosha, one finds this way of life already becoming praxis within the novel. Both are Christological figures, and for both characters, the God of the cross represents the call to loving solidarity. That becomes the principle of their practical theism. In “Women of Faith,” Fr. Zosima consoles a group of women who come to him in sorrow. Addressing one woman mourning her son, he does not offer an a priori account, like Pangloss, of why her son had to die; rather, he likens her to the biblical figure of Rachel and implores her: “And do not be comforted, you should not be comforted, do not be comforted, but weep.” Further, he says: “Only each time you weep, do not fail to remember that your little son is one of God’s angels…”[36] Zosima stands in solidarity by acknowledging the humanity of her suffering, rather than dismissing it. And yet he sees such mourning as compatible with joy. To another woman he says: “Weep, then, but also rejoice.”[37] Zosima seems to express faith in a future, heavenly condition for suffering innocents that does not simply integrate suffering, but overcomes it.[38] Such a state cannot seemingly be deduced from any syllogism. Rather, it is on the epistemic level of mystery, and thus the only proper dispositions toward it can be faith or disbelief, hope or despair. Zosima’s belief that active love can ultimately rectify all sin is intimately connected with Christ’s Resurrection, for only in this does the Christian God promise victory over suffering. Thus, in his call to rejoice even in the midst of suffering, Zosima is making an expression of hope in a future wherein suffering will be overcome.
Zosima also recites the mantra that one must accept the sins of the whole of humanity as his own. This is not a confused application of morality, but rather the exact antithesis to the denial of human value that Ivan’s system manifests: man is of such immeasurable value that we must willingly suffer with him, even if we are innocent. Alyosha is perhaps the best example of enacting Zosima’s creed in the world outside the monastery. Listening to Ivan relate the stories of children in unspeakable suffering, he asks Ivan not to stop, saying: “Nevermind, I want to suffer, too.”[39] Alyosha is able to engage all those to whom he is sent by Zosima and appropriate their suffering as his own. And just as Christ and Zosima recognize the seriousness of suffering, Alyosha even agrees with much of Ivan’s critique, himself standing in opposition to senseless evil. Further, like Zosima, Alyosha explicitly affirms the immortality of the soul.[40] And as Christ and Zosima refuse to offer any explanation or justification for the suffering they encounter, Alyosha’s only response to Ivan’s critique is the kiss of peace; yet this kiss is also an expression of hope and loving solidarity. It is in the context of the chapter a performative refutation of Ivan’s belief that one cannot imitate the love of Christ.[41]
V. Conclusion
What the God of the Incarnation reveals to us is not only Ivan’s outrage at the injustice of innocent suffering, but also 1) loving solidarity that 2) expresses the immeasurable value of humanity, as well as 3) the resources for faith and hope in a more sophisticated future harmony (through the Resurrection).[42] Ivan’s critique is in itself valid, and is actually affirmed by the Christian God Himself. Yet because the responses follow from a critique of a practical nature, the standard has always been each response’s capacity to craft a functioning lifestyle. And all three of these elements listed above are missing from Ivan’s answer, his atheism: his refusal to accept the possibility of loving mankind individually and appropriating his guilt cuts him off from loving solidarity; his denial of immortality undermines the ground for mankind’s enduring value; and his rejection of an eschatological dimension and his acceptance of a purely secular notion of happiness cut him off from any resources of hope and faith. The denial of all of these leaves him with an undermining nihilism. While on the other hand, in the characters of Zosima and Alyosha, we see a similar concern for the mysterious nature of suffering as well as its injustice. Yet they represent a Christian way of life that does not ultimately undermine the initial protest, but upholds it. They embody a lifestyle in which one can radically love each person and suffer with him willingly; see all mankind as eternally valuable; and believe, hope, and even rejoice in the midst of suffering. It is through these characters and the Christological vision that they practice that Dostoevsky has provided his answer to the question of theodicy, and has thereby fulfilled the test set down by Voltaire and affirmed by Ivan. He thus affirms a practical theism: one that embraces the suffering God as the true God, implicitly denying the god of the theodicies as little more than an idol. It is always to Christ and no other that he cries “Thou art Just, O Lord!” and it is to Christ that he sings his “Hossanah.”
[1] Quoted in Ellis Sandoz. Political Apocalypse: A Study of Dostoevsky’s Grand Inquisitor.
[2] Dostoevsky, Fyodor. The Brothers Karamazov. trans. Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky.
[3] It is interesting to note that each of the other characters that serve as icons of the Enlightenment Ivan seems to hate. Indeed, Ivan’s playful discussion with Zosima and the other monks in Book 2, Chapter 5 makes Miusov’s concern with Utramontanism seem comical. Whereas figures like Miusov are only strawmen of Enlightement ideas, Ivan represents the definitive and challenging voice.
[4] Wood, Ralph. “Ivan Karamazov’s Mistake.” in First Things: a Journal of Religion, Culture, and Public Life. December, 2002. http://www.firstthings.com/article.php3?id_article=2110
[5] Voltaire, Francois Arouet de. Candide. in The Portable Voltaire. edit. Ben Ray Redman.
[6] Ibid. pp.254-256
[7] Ibid. p.240
[8] Ibid. p.327
[9] Voltaire, Francois Arouet de. “Poem on the
[10] Dostoevsky, p.244
[11] “Poem on the Lisbon Disaster,” p.2: “Set you this limit to the power supreme?/ Would you forbid it use its clemency?”; p.3: “God holds the chain: is not himself enchained.”
[12] Ibid. p.1: “What crime, what sin had those young hearts conceived/ That lie bleeding and torn, on mother’s breast?/ Did fallen
[13] Ibid. p.5
[14] Ibid. p.5
[15] Dostoevsky, pp. 236-246
[16] Romans 6:23
[17] Dostoevsky, p.238
[18] Ibid. p.245: “…‘Just art thou, O Lord!’ but I do not want to cry out with them. While there’s still time, I hasten to defend myself against it, and therefore I absolutely renounce all higher harmony.”
[19] Ibid. p.244: “It’s quite incomprehensible why they should have to suffer, and why they should buy harmony with their suffering.”
[20] Ibid. p.245
[21] Ivan shows the practical nature of his revolt by denying truth itself if it rests on the side of such inhumane theodicies. See Ibid. p.245
[22] We can derive this notion of practical atheism from Voltaire: interestingly, we can perhaps call Voltaire a theist of a sort, insofar as he has a belief in a Euclidean, metaphysical first principle (not unlike the passionless First Mover of Aristotle). Yet the god that he and Ivan deny is the actively involved God of provident history; one who could account for and overcome evil and yet does not.
[23] Ibid. pp. 246-264
[24] Ibid. p.259: “There will be thousands of millions of happy babes, and a hundred thousand sufferers who have taken upon themselves the curse of the knowledge of good and evil.”
[25] Ibid. p.259: “Oh we will allow them to sin, too: they are weak and powerless, and they will love us like children for allowing them to sin.”
[26] Ivan even claims that he can only love humanity in the abstract, but not individually, thus revealing the limitation that the value of man has in his eyes. See Ibid. p.237
[27] Bauckham, Richard. “Theodicy From Ivan Karamazov to Moltmann.” Modern Theology 4:1. October 1987. p.86
[28] Dostoevsky, p.632: “You yourself kept saying then that everything was permitted, so why are you so troubled now, you yourself, sir?”
[29] Interestingly, it is precisely the standard of earthly comfort that Smerdyakov sees as central to Ivan’s desire for his father’s death, i.e. his inheritance. And according to this morality, Ivan has become the very image of his father. See Ibid. p.632: “You love money, that I know, sir,…and most of all you love living in peaceful prosperity, without bowing to anyone...You’re like Fyodor Pavlovich most of all, its you of all his children who came out resembling him most, having the same soul as him, sir.”
[30] Ibid. p. 642: “Ah, so you are serious? By God, my dear, I just don’t know- there’s a great answer for you!” “You don’t know, yet you see God?”
[31] Ibid. p.642
[32] Ibid. p.642
[33] Ibid. p.246
[34] Ibid. p.245
[35] Bauckham, p.93. I am greatly indebted to many of the observations of Bauckham about the peculiarities of the Christian God and how these might be brought to bear on Ivan’s critique. Further, the theology of Jurgen Moltmann has provided a number of fruitful hermenetical points.
[36] Dostoevsky, p.50. Note that by acknowledging the infant’s place before the throne of God, Zosima is implicitly affirming the immortality of the human soul, and thus the lasting value of each human person.
[37] Ibid. p.49
[38] Bauckham, p.91
[39] Dostoevsky, p.242
[40] Ibid. p.134
[41] Ibid. pp.262-264
[42] One may note that what distinguishes the Christologically structured lifestyle from the nihilistic lifestyle of Ivan is precisely the active presence of the theological virtues: faith, hope, and love. It is the refusal of these that condemn Ivan’s vision to nihilism. Thus, Dostoevsky seems to be offering a properly theological answer to a philosophical question; claiming that only with grace can one live with suffering in an unjust world.
1 Comments:
At 11/29/2007 5:43 AM, Henry Karlson said…
Brother's Karamazov is one of my favorite novels of all time -- it's a classic which, as you show, puts to head all the philosophical background of the time together and demonstrates the consequences of such philosophical perspectives. It certainly shows the influence of both Solovyov and Pobedonostsev! But you are right, it is not just about showing the consequences and those traditions, but to look at the core, show what was good in them and what was wrong, and then provide a way out -- the theodicy which is, as you point out, a central theme of the whole novel.
Interestingly enough it was supposed to be the first of a trilogy, and the events of the other stories can come somewhat surprising after the end of the first: it was to be about the fall and return to grace of Alexei -- he was abandon his monastic vows and take Grushenka from his brother in the second story; but in the end he was to repent and become a monk after seeing the full effect of sin and the despair it brought to his life.
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