Dostoevsky’s genius isn’t written for us in a flashy, obvious fashion. Rather, his genius lies in the “in-between” of his stories. The quiet moments where grace breaks through pride. Seen in the mercy Sonya shows Raskolnikov, in the light that radiates from Alyosha, and in the compassion shown to the underground man by Liza, though his pride and vanity keep him from changing. What do these characters who show so much love have in common? They are a reflection of Christ Himself. After the underground man’s offensive speech, mocking and belittling Liza in order to soothe his own wounded ego. Dostoevsky masterfully captures the essence of Christ’s life on Earth. Liza, in listening tenderly to the underground man, approaches him tenderly, showing compassion and understanding. This encounter with Liza thus begins Dostoevsky’s theme in his later novels. In Crime and Punishment, we see this exact scene play out with Raskolnikov and Sonya. Having offended Sonya, taunting her, she hugs him. Showing compassion and tenderness. Where the underground man shuddered and hated Liza for her kindness, Raskolnikov instead shows cracks where grace pours through. Though not without the temptation to hate her. Nonetheless, we see cracks forming through his hard shell. In The Brothers Karamazov, Alyosha is the light to our characters. Ivan’s nihilistic approach to life, “if God is not real, then all is permitted” approach, cost him dearly to the point of madness. Dmitri is a case similar to our previously named characters. He was able to accept grace like Raskolnikov through the most unexpected of people, Grushenka. She is a character in The Brothers Karamazov, who at first is rowdy and manipulative. Taking advantage of both Dmitri and Fyodor. But towards the end of the novel, we see her in a completely different light. She and Dmitri revolve around each other, their love piercing through any hardship that is to come, which is much since Dmitri is sentenced to a Siberian prison.
What I find so beautiful about Dostoevsky’s writing is how well the dialogue is presented. He blends deeply profound theological themes into conversations between characters. He grapples with freedom and socialism, earthly utopias. Famously, in the Grand Inquisitor chapter of the Brothers Karamazov. But that is the result of his previous works. The underground man in Part I of the book is arguing with utopian rationalists. Those who believed reason and comfort could perfect man. Albeit, the “gentlemen” he argues with are all in his head. He responds to the argument of a utopia where, if everyone had a mathematical formula for life, let’s say, then there would be no injustice or evil or hunger. Why do they believe this? It would seem the obvious answer, right? If everyone were taken care of, then what need to commit evil? He argues that even if man lived under that utopia, man longs to be free. And will rebel even if everything is perfect just to prove he is free. We see this all too often in society. People who have it all, comfort, money, and even family. When people steal just to get a rush, it is because they are bored and want to feel something. The argument that man will fall in line if his needs are taken care of is something Dostoevsky fought so hard to refute. And the best part? He refuted it all even before it began to shape society. In this sense, you could say he was a prophet. It amazes me that he saw even then, the emptiness of the world we’re building today. But I digress.
The underground man illustrates the rebellion but is plagued by overthinking. He held a grudge against an officer who picked him up and moved him for three years, planning revenge. He is unable to act, his rebellion ends in paralysis.
To further this narrative that man will rebel even in a utopia, we have Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov acts on that same pride. That he can bend the rules, he can step over the moral boundary. So where the underground man’s rebellion leads to paralysis, Raskolnikov plays it out. He murders the pawnbroker and her sister just to test out his extraordinary man theory. Both think that intellect can stand in place of grace. Contrast that to Razumikhin, who quietly refutes both. He lives not by any theory, but by love, by patience, by loyalty. Through him Dostoevsky shows his genius that no system, no reform can heal man’s heart. Only grace can.
In his magnum opus, The Brothers Karamazov, we see all of these themes previously mentioned fleshed out fully. In the Grand Inquisitor (Ivan’s poem), Dostoevsky shows a utopia on Earth built on obedience. Freedom, the very gift given to us by Christ, is stripped away, replaced by comfort and certainty. They are told how to live, how to get into heaven, and are provided for. The inquisitor believes that by relieving man of choice, he fixed what he calls “Christ's mistakes”. In the story, Christ comes down from heaven and is shown doing miracles. From this, he is quickly arrested and placed before the Grand Inquisitor. From there, Christ listens silently to the Inquisitor. “You gave man too much freedom. They cannot bear it.” (And so begins the most riveting talk, which, being too deep for me to talk about here, I insist you read for yourself.) However, Christ does not respond to the accusations. He answers with silence, and then with a kiss. This shocks the inquisitor; love broke his brain. Just like how Sonya’s love broke through to Raskolnikov, so too does Christ’s silent kiss expose the Inquisitor's blindness. This is the masterpiece of Dostoevsky. Grace, love, Christ Himself, all show how grace can penetrate just with the very presence of these virtues. That no earthly utopia or system can replace grace, and that to me shows the beauty of our faith. And it is in this that Dostoevsky’s works become personal.
To love is to have received the grace from God to choose it. Love must be chosen. It is an act of the will to love. Through suffering, Christ loved us. He chose to die for us. That is love personified in a person. God is love. God is all good. Dostoevsky reveals love so pure, so undefiled, that his characters mirror the love Christ has for His Church. He shows clearly that to try and create a utopia on Earth is impossible. And honestly? I don’t want it. I reject it. Because like Dostoevsky, I also believe in the freedom to choose love. And sometimes, that can only happen in the midst of suffering. Suffering sanctifies us. It is what grounds us in God. The price of love, of freedom, of salvation is suffering. To try and soothe it, to bring earthly comfort, I reject the idea wholeheartedly. Because if there was an alternative route to suffering, Christ would have shown it. To suffer for love of Christ is a blessing without equal. Who are we to reject suffering when God incarnate chose it as the instrument of our salvation? No, I accept the lot given to me, I accept suffering in union with my God.
What I find so beautiful about Dostoevsky’s writing is how well the dialogue is presented. He blends deeply profound theological themes into conversations between characters. He grapples with freedom and socialism, earthly utopias. Famously, in the Grand Inquisitor chapter of the Brothers Karamazov. But that is the result of his previous works. The underground man in Part I of the book is arguing with utopian rationalists. Those who believed reason and comfort could perfect man. Albeit, the “gentlemen” he argues with are all in his head. He responds to the argument of a utopia where, if everyone had a mathematical formula for life, let’s say, then there would be no injustice or evil or hunger. Why do they believe this? It would seem the obvious answer, right? If everyone were taken care of, then what need to commit evil? He argues that even if man lived under that utopia, man longs to be free. And will rebel even if everything is perfect just to prove he is free. We see this all too often in society. People who have it all, comfort, money, and even family. When people steal just to get a rush, it is because they are bored and want to feel something. The argument that man will fall in line if his needs are taken care of is something Dostoevsky fought so hard to refute. And the best part? He refuted it all even before it began to shape society. In this sense, you could say he was a prophet. It amazes me that he saw even then, the emptiness of the world we’re building today. But I digress.
The underground man illustrates the rebellion but is plagued by overthinking. He held a grudge against an officer who picked him up and moved him for three years, planning revenge. He is unable to act, his rebellion ends in paralysis.
To further this narrative that man will rebel even in a utopia, we have Crime and Punishment. Raskolnikov acts on that same pride. That he can bend the rules, he can step over the moral boundary. So where the underground man’s rebellion leads to paralysis, Raskolnikov plays it out. He murders the pawnbroker and her sister just to test out his extraordinary man theory. Both think that intellect can stand in place of grace. Contrast that to Razumikhin, who quietly refutes both. He lives not by any theory, but by love, by patience, by loyalty. Through him Dostoevsky shows his genius that no system, no reform can heal man’s heart. Only grace can.
In his magnum opus, The Brothers Karamazov, we see all of these themes previously mentioned fleshed out fully. In the Grand Inquisitor (Ivan’s poem), Dostoevsky shows a utopia on Earth built on obedience. Freedom, the very gift given to us by Christ, is stripped away, replaced by comfort and certainty. They are told how to live, how to get into heaven, and are provided for. The inquisitor believes that by relieving man of choice, he fixed what he calls “Christ's mistakes”. In the story, Christ comes down from heaven and is shown doing miracles. From this, he is quickly arrested and placed before the Grand Inquisitor. From there, Christ listens silently to the Inquisitor. “You gave man too much freedom. They cannot bear it.” (And so begins the most riveting talk, which, being too deep for me to talk about here, I insist you read for yourself.) However, Christ does not respond to the accusations. He answers with silence, and then with a kiss. This shocks the inquisitor; love broke his brain. Just like how Sonya’s love broke through to Raskolnikov, so too does Christ’s silent kiss expose the Inquisitor's blindness. This is the masterpiece of Dostoevsky. Grace, love, Christ Himself, all show how grace can penetrate just with the very presence of these virtues. That no earthly utopia or system can replace grace, and that to me shows the beauty of our faith. And it is in this that Dostoevsky’s works become personal.
To love is to have received the grace from God to choose it. Love must be chosen. It is an act of the will to love. Through suffering, Christ loved us. He chose to die for us. That is love personified in a person. God is love. God is all good. Dostoevsky reveals love so pure, so undefiled, that his characters mirror the love Christ has for His Church. He shows clearly that to try and create a utopia on Earth is impossible. And honestly? I don’t want it. I reject it. Because like Dostoevsky, I also believe in the freedom to choose love. And sometimes, that can only happen in the midst of suffering. Suffering sanctifies us. It is what grounds us in God. The price of love, of freedom, of salvation is suffering. To try and soothe it, to bring earthly comfort, I reject the idea wholeheartedly. Because if there was an alternative route to suffering, Christ would have shown it. To suffer for love of Christ is a blessing without equal. Who are we to reject suffering when God incarnate chose it as the instrument of our salvation? No, I accept the lot given to me, I accept suffering in union with my God.
