2 posts tagged “monk”
One of my favorite passages from The Brother's Karamazov occurs, ironically, during the sad grieving of Alyosha over the death of his beloved master, Elder Zossima. Alyosha is on his knees before the open coffin, while Father Paissy continuously reads the Gospels (usually the psalter is read, but in the case of a very holy man, one reads the Gospels).
As Fr. Paissy reads through the wedding at Cana, Alyosha begins to have a vision, the room widening and the scene from the Gospel playing itself out before him... and guess who's amongst the guests...
"But what's this, what's this? Why is the room growing wider?... Ah,
yes... It's the marriage, the wedding... yes, of course. Here are the
guests, here are the young couple sitting, and the merry crowd and...
Where is the wise governor of the feast? But who is this? Who? Again
the walls are receding.... Who is getting up there from the great
table? What!... He here, too? But he's in the coffin... but he's here,
too. He has stood up, he sees me, he is coming here....
Yes, he came up to him, to him, he, the little, thin old man, with tiny wrinkles on his face, joyful and laughing softly. There was no coffin now, and he was in the same dress as he had worn yesterday sitting with them, when the visitors had gathered about him. His face was uncovered, his eyes were shining. How was this, then? He, too, had been called to the feast. He, too, at the marriage of Cana in Galilee....
"Yes, my dear, I am called, too, called and bidden," he heard a soft voice saying over him. "Why have you hidden yourself here, out of sight? You come and join us too."
It was his voice, the voice of Father Zossima. And it must be he, since he called him!
The elder raised Alyosha by the hand and he rose from his knees.
"We are rejoicing," the little, thin old man went on. "We are drinking the new wine, the wine of new, great gladness; do you see how many guests? Here are the bride and bridegroom, here is the wise governor of the feast, he is tasting the new wine. Why do you wonder at me? I gave an onion to a beggar*, so I, too, am here. And many here have given only an onion each--only one little onion.... What are all our deeds? And you, my gentle one, you, my kind boy, you too have known how to give a famished woman an onion to-day. Begin your work, dear one, begin it, gentle one! Do you see our Sun, do you see Him?"
"I am afraid... I dare not look," whispered Alyosha.
"Do not fear Him. He is terrible in His greatness, awful in His sublimity, but infinitely merciful. He has made Himself like unto us from love and rejoices with us. He is changing the water into wine that the gladness of the guests may not be cut short. He is expecting new guests, He is calling new ones unceasingly for ever and ever...."
Something glowed in Alyosha's heart, something filled it till it ached, tears of rapture rose from his soul.... He stretched out his hands, uttered a cry and waked up."
So, why do I have an emotional reaction to this passage every time I read it?
Notes:
* - gave an onion to a beggar - this refers to another part of the novel, referring to an old Russian proverb wherein the guardian angel of someone in hell searches their life vigorously to find something good that might merit release from hell - and ends up finding no good act except that the person once gave an onion to a beggar... and that was enough to pull the person out (or at least to try). In the vision, the Elder equates his lifetime of holiness to the giving of one onion.
** - the picture is of Elder Ambrose, not the fictional Elder Zossima... though most believe that Dostoevsky patterned Zossima after an elder he'd befriended at the Optina monastery.
If you have not seen this movie yet, YOU MAY NOT WANT TO READ FURTHER, as I want to explore some particulars that you may prefer to draw your own conclusions about without predisposition.
If we believe comments on IMDB, the main character, Father Anatoly, is "played by unique and genius Russian actor/musician/now-hermit- Petr Mamonov. The movie actually reflects the real current life and spirituality of the actor."
As I prepared to return to work tomorrow, I was tempted to see that action as my version of hauling coal, the constant
Stretching things a bit more, it occurs to me that the Nazi's at the beginning of the film, by ridiculing and debasing the young Anatoly, represent satan in the way he works constantly not just to prevent salvation, but to destroy human dignity. The captain, once his hiding place is betrayed, displays dignity in the face of imminent death (unlike Anatoly). I'm not sure what to make yet of his fate, though it's interesting to contrast how his life turns out with that of Fr. Anatoly. The captain develops into one who has all the trappings of success, yet there are hints of fear in his life, having to carefully guard what he says amongst party operatives.
Getting back to Fr. Anatoly and the meaning of the coal and shipwreck... I'm a little confused, having read that one should not dwell on past sins, lest he be pulled back into them (maybe it was St. John of San Francisco?). If my take on the coal is right, then I'll have to figure out how one should balance a remembrance of past shortcomings for purposes of repentance with St. Paul's exhortation to forget what is behind and press on... But I've seen in the Lives of the Saints some hints of doing exactly what Fr. Anatoly is doing in the movie. It just seems significant to me that Fr. Anatoly lives in constant proximity to the shipwreck, and goes back to it everyday, and by the end of his life (while lamenting that his sins still weigh him down), has still not finished removing that pile of coal.
A final coal comment - I noticed that the abbot, Fr. Filaret, attempts to take on the same obedience for a while, but finds himself unable to do it. The film seems to highlight that Fr. Anatoly has to relieve Fr. Filaret of the wheelbarrow load. On the surface it seems that Fr. Anatoly is simply more fit for the work and used to it, but I think they're telling us that each one has to offer up his own failures in constant repentance. I can't do it like another, in part because my sin is unique and, from a centric perspective, greater than that of anyone else (as Fr. Hopko says, we are each the greatest of sinners, because we don't compare ourselves to each other - we just know).
I think the whole movie is full of these symbols, so I may need to watch it again before we start loaning it to friends.
By the way, I don't know how much of the movie is based on real people or real events, but I'm tempted to see Fr. Anatoly as a composite of two characters in Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov. He seems part (like one third) Elder Zosima, and part the "deranged" monk Fr. Ferapont who people are afraid of at the monastery. I might be totally off on this, but Fr. Anatoly was criticized for similar things that Elder Zosima was, and exhibited clairvoyance in very similar ways (the woman whose dead husband turned out to really be alive was similar to one who Elder Zosima counseled), and the "demons everywhere in the room" scene is similar to Fr. Ferapont's ravings in Karamazov. I hadn't respected the monk Ferepont, but will have to go back sometime after seeing Ostrov to see if he was in the part of a Holy Fool.
More later, God willing.
