The Brothers Karamazov (12 page)

“Unfortunately I haven’t read your article, but I have heard about it,” the elder said, looking intently at Ivan.

“He has a very curious approach to the problem,” the monastery librarian explained. “He seems to reject completely the separation of Church and State when dealing with the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts.”

“That is curious . . . But in what sense?” the elder asked Ivan.

When Ivan answered him, he did not do so condescendingly, as Alyosha had feared he would, but spoke quietly, self-effacingly, with great courtesy and apparently complete frankness.

“I start from the premise that, although they are doomed to failure, attempts will always be made to combine the essential elements of Church and State, considered as separate entities, but these attempts can never succeed in producing a workable solution because they are based on a complete fallacy. Thus, the conciliation of claims between Church and State on such matters as the administration of justice is, in my opinion, quite impossible by its very nature. The churchman against whom I argue contends that the Church has a clearly defined place within the State. I answer that, on the contrary, instead of occupying some little corner within the State, the Church should contain the State, and if it cannot do so immediately, it ought to make that a prime goal in the development of a Christian society.”

“Very true,” Father Paisii, a learned and taciturn monk, assented in a tense, decisive tone.

“That’s sheer Ultramontanism!” Miusov said, impatiently recrossing his legs.

“Eh, we don’t even have any mountains here,” the monastery librarian remarked and turned back to Zosima. “The author of this article answers, among other things, the following fundamental contentions of his opponent, who is, be it remembered, an ecclesiastic: first, that no social organization should claim or be allowed to usurp the civilian and political rights of its members; second, that the criminal and civil courts cannot be controlled by the Church because that would be incompatible with the nature of an institution vested with divine authority, or of an association of men formed for religious purposes; and third, that ‘the Church is a kingdom not of this world.’ ”

“That is playing on words in a way quite unworthy of an ecclesiastic!” Paisii interrupted again indignantly. “I have read the book against which you argue in your article,” he said, turning to Ivan, “and I was quite taken aback by the words ‘the Church is a kingdom not of this world’ coming from an ecclesiastic. If it is not ‘of this world,’ how can it be on earth at all? The words ‘not of this world’ are used in a completely different context in the Holy Gospels, and no one should trifle with them. The very purpose of the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ to earth was to establish the Church here. Obviously, the kingdom of heaven is not of this world, since it is in heaven, but the only way to enter it is through the Church that has been set up on this earth. And, therefore, any interpretation or sophisticated play on words is impermissible and unworthy of a churchman. Indeed, the Church is a kingdom, ordained to reign, and ultimately it will become a kingdom of all the earth, as was preordained by our Lord . . .”

He suddenly fell silent, making an obvious effort to restrain himself. Ivan, who had listened to him with respectful attention, spoke again with perfect composure. His tone was frank and unaffected as he addressed the elder.

“My whole article is based on the idea that, during its first three centuries, Christianity existed on earth as a church. But when the pagan Roman Empire decided to become Christian, it was inevitable that, in turning Christian, it simply incorporated the Church while, in fact, remaining essentially pagan. Indeed, it was bound to be that way. But in Rome too much was left of her pagan wisdom and civilization—among other things, the very goals and foundations of the State. On the other hand, in entering the State, Christ’s Church certainly could not renounce any of its principles, the rock on which it was built, and could only pursue the goals set for it by our Lord Himself. Among these goals is the integration of the whole world—including, therefore, the pagan State—into the Church. Thus, in view of these long-range goals, it is not up to the Church to seek a proper place for itself within the State, like any other public agency or ‘association of men for religious purposes,’ as the author of the book against which I argue puts its. Since ultimately every secular state is to be integrated into the Church and become nothing but the Church, it is the State that must discard all goals that are incompatible with those of the Church. And this would involve no humiliation, no slur on the honor and glory of a great state, or loss of prestige to its rulers. It would simply transfer the concept of the State from the wrong premises to the correct ones, to the only true way of achieving the eternal goals. For this reason, the author of the 
Foundations of the Ecclesiastical Courts
 would have been right if, in searching for and defining those foundations, he had considered them as a temporary compromise for our sinful and transitory era, but nothing more than that. But when the author dares to declare that the foundations he mentions—some of which were noted by Father Joseph a few moments ago—are natural, immutable, and eternal, he thereby goes directly against the Church and its sacred mission, preordained from time immemorial. And that is the gist of my article.”

“Which means, to sum up briefly,” said Father Paisii, stressing every word, “that, according to certain theories of which the point has become only too clear in our nineteenth century, the Church is to evolve into a state, the way a lower order of life evolves into a higher one, and eventually is to disappear altogether as a religious institution, being superseded by science, technical progress, and secularism. And if the Church refuses to accept that fate and resists, it is to be rewarded for its pains by being allotted a corner in the preserve of the State, and even that would be under the supervision of the State. This is the situation today in every European country. But, according to the Russian idea and hope, it is not the Church that is to be transformed into the State, as an inferior form into a superior one; it is rather the State that must eventually become part of the Church. So it shall be and so be it!”

“Well, I must say, I feel somewhat reassured!” Miusov snorted, again recrossing his legs. “As far as I can make out, you seem to be talking about the realization of some ideal in the distant future, perhaps at the second coming of Christ. In that case, I have no objection. It is a beautiful, utopian dream of a world without wars, diplomats, banks, and so on. In a way, it resembles socialism . . . For a moment I thought you were talking seriously about the Church doing such things as prosecuting criminals and sentencing people to floggings, detention, and even, I suppose, death.”

“Hardly so,” Ivan said without batting an eye. “Even if all justice today were administered by ecclesiastical courts, the Church would not sentence anyone either to forced labor or to death. The whole concept of crime, and how to deal with it, would be different. Of course, it would not change suddenly, all at once, but would evolve gradually. But still, it wouldn’t take very long . . .”

“Can you possibly mean what you say?” Miusov asked, looking closely at Ivan.

“If everything were integrated into the Church, the Church would excommunicate the criminal and the subversive, instead of chopping off their heads,” Ivan went on. “Just think—where could the excommunicate go? Why, he would be cut off not only from men but also from Christ, since his crime would be a crime not only against his fellow men but also against Christ’s Church. Strictly speaking, of course, this is true now. But it has not been officially proclaimed, and our criminals today often compromise with their consciences in a number of ways. ‘I steal,’ one may say, for instance, ‘but I wouldn’t do anything against the Church, because I am not an enemy of Christ.’ But while criminals often justify themselves in this way today, the moment the Church superseded the State, they could no longer appease their consciences unless they said: ‘Everyone else is wrong; they have all lost God, and their Church is a false church. It is we, the thieves and murderers, who alone represent the true Church of Christ.’ But it would be rather difficult for a man to say that to himself, unless he was living under exceptional circumstances, during world-shaking events, and such situations do not occur very often. Now let us look at the Church’s approach to crime: isn’t it bound to differ from the State’s approach today, which is an almost pagan approach—the mechanical amputation of the diseased limb for the protection of society? The Church would aim at the total, true regeneration of man, his spiritual rebirth, and the salvation of his . . .”

“What are you saying? I’ve lost you again,” Miusov interrupted him. “It’s some sort of dream again, something formless . . . I can’t even follow you. What is this about excommunication? What excommunication? I suspect you’re just having fun at other people’s expense, Ivan.”

“But this is just as true today,” the elder suddenly spoke out, and they all immediately turned to him. “If Christ’s Church did not exist today, there would be nothing to restrain a man from committing crimes, for there would be no real punishment . . . I’m not talking of ‘mechanical’ punishment, such as was described a moment ago, which in most cases only hardens a criminal, but of real punishment, the only effective one, that people fear and that can bring peace—the awareness of one’s own conscience.”

“But what do you mean by that?” Miusov asked, filled with lively curiosity.

“What I mean,” the elder went on, “is that all this business of sentencing people to hard labor, with or without flogging, does not reform criminals and, more to the point, does not deter them from committing crimes. So the number of crimes not only does not diminish—it keeps increasing. Why, you must concede that at least. It turns out, consequently, that society is not really protected by this method because, even if a dangerous member is cut off and put far away out of sight, immediately another criminal will appear in his place, and sometimes even two. If anything protects society in our time, if anything can reform the criminal and make a new man out of him, it is only the law of Christ, which manifests itself in the awareness of a man’s own conscience. It is only after a man has recognized his guilt as a son of Christ’s society, that is, of the Church, that he will become conscious of his guilt toward society, that is, toward the Church. Consequently, today’s criminal can recognize his guilt only toward the Church, and not toward the State. So if the administration of justice were in the hands of society as represented by the Church, it would know whom it should absolve from excommunication and receive again as its son. But as things stand today, the Church has no legal authority, only the power of moral condemnation. And so she refuses to take part in the punishment of a criminal. She does not excommunicate him, she only offers him maternal advice. Indeed, she tries to abide by the pledge made by Christ’s Church to the criminal: to admit him to church services and to the holy sacrament, to give him alms and treat him as a captive rather than as a convict. And what would become of the criminal, O Lord, if the Christian community, that is, the Church, rejected him and cut him off as the law of the State does? What would happen if every time a man was punished by the State, the Church followed suit by excommunicating him? The answer is that there could be no deeper despair, at least for a Russian criminal, because Russian criminals are still believers. And who knows, perhaps the result would be truly tragic—in his despair the criminal might lose his faith. And what would be gained by that?

“And so the Church, acting like a tender and loving mother, will take no part in meting out punishment because, even without the Church, a man condemned by the state courts is sufficiently punished, and there should be someone, after all, to take pity on him. But the main reason for the Church’s keeping aloof is that the law of the Church is the only true law and it cannot, therefore, make the slightest concession to any other law or even accept a temporary compromise.

“But a non-Russian criminal, I have been told, rarely repents, since many modern theories confirm him in his belief that a crime is not really a crime but only a gesture of protest against an unjust and oppressive force. Society cuts him off, as a matter of course, because it is stronger than he, and accompanies its ostracism of him with hatred (so, at least, Europeans themselves describe it); then it shows no interest whatever in the further fate of that human being and soon forgets all about him. And as all this takes place, there is no one to take pity on the condemned man, because in many countries there is no church any longer; all they have left is the clergy and magnificent buildings that used to be churches. For their churches have long been evolving from the lower form of church into the higher form of state, in which they will be completely dissolved and vanish. This is what happens at least in Lutheran countries, I believe. As to Rome, they proclaimed a state instead of a church a full thousand years ago. Hence, a criminal there cannot consider himself a member of the Church. He is excommunicated and sinks into despair. And if he does return to society, he is so full of hatred that it is he, as it were, who excommunicates society from himself.

“How it will end, I leave to your imagination. At various times it has seemed as though Russia would follow the same course. But the difference lies in the very fact that, in addition to the civil courts of justice, we also have a church that never loses contact with the criminal and treats him like a dear and still beloved son; and also the Church in Russia does play a role in upholding the law, even if only in people’s minds; for, although the Church does not actually sit in judgment over criminals, they fear her condemnation and thus acknowledge her authority.

“It is also true, as has been contended here, that if the Church were given full control of the administration of justice, that is, if the whole community were integrated into the Church, then not only would the ecclesiastical courts work for the regeneration of criminals as no courts of justice can today, but also the number of crimes might be tremendously reduced. And there is no doubt that the Church herself would, in many cases, look upon criminals and crime quite differently, and she would succeed in bringing back the outcasts, in preventing crimes from being committed, and in regenerating the fallen. It is true, though,” the elder said with a faint smile, “that Christian society itself is not yet ready for this, as it still rests precariously on seven righteous men. But as long as these men exist, society will stand firm, waiting for total transformation from a pagan community into one universal sovereign church. And even if this should not happen till the end of time, happen it will because it has been so ordained. So it shall be and so be it! Nor should we worry about the length of time it will take or the day when it will come to pass, because the secret of the time and the day lies in God’s wisdom, His vision of the future, and His love. And what to a man may appear infinitely remote may in God’s design be very near, already within reach. So it shall be and so be it!”