I hardly ever share things I write for class, but...

... but this paper seems to be the manifestation of all the tumultuous thoughts that have been raging through my head, and so I'll reproduce my clumsy words here, in the hope that it'll bring some clarity to my shadowy musings.



1 Adam made love to his wife Eve, and she became pregnant and gave birth to Cain. She said, “With the help of the LORD I have brought forth a man.” 2 Later she gave birth to his brother Abel.

Now Abel kept flocks, and Cain worked the soil. 3 In the course of time Cain brought some of the fruits of the soil as an offering to the LORD. 4 And Abel also brought an offering—fat portions from some of the firstborn of his flock. The LORD looked with favor on Abel and his offering, 5 but on Cain and his offering he did not look with favor. So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast.

6 Then the LORD said to Cain, “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast? 7 If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.”

8 Now Cain said to his brother Abel, “Let’s go out to the field.” While they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and killed him.

9 Then the LORD said to Cain, “Where is your brother Abel?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Am I my brother’s keeper?”



Here I am once again, sitting before my computer, with an over-due Honors paper to write; like Alyosha, my "mind, too, (is) splintered and scattered" and I am struggling to "bring the scattered together and draw a general idea from all the tormenting contradictions" I have encountered as I've read The Brothers Karamazov. Dostoevsky's story is grand in scope, and it seems I lack the surgical precision necessary to trim it down to a size manageable for a seven page paper; I keep trying to narrow my view and focus on a single passage, or even a character, but I don't feel capable of unraveling this masterpiece and still maintaining its integrity. And so I will take on a topic that is much too complicated and expansive for a second-year analytical essay, merely because I can think of nothing else that is more worthy of my time and thought: the collectivity of the human experience.


When I reflect on this story of brotherhood and crime, I can’t help but think of another narrative, one so ancient it predates the holy book we often associate it with: that of Cain and Abel. The brothers Karamazov take their turn in each of these fraternal roles, oscillating between the rejected anger of Cain and the supposed purity of Abel. But just like the original story, Dostoevsky’s isn’t simple, and the murder of a family member and the complexity of blame become a discussion of good and evil and collective responsibility. In this way, I see Dostoevsky’s treatment of sobornost, of guilt and salvation and accountability, as not only an indictment of all of mankind, but also as an attempt at an answer to Ivan’s rebellious questioning of God and the world we are presented with.


I am not claiming that The Brothers Karamazov is some sort of East of Eden-style grand allegorical study of the story of Cain and Abel, but I do think that there are parallels which are both apparent and significant. Some of these may have been a deliberate part of Dostoevsky’s many biblical allusions and his overall theological statement, but many may have just been unconscious references to a narrative which subtly defines so much in Judeo-Christian thought. There are more obvious correlations, like the many echoes of Cain’s infamous questioning of his own guilt, whether it’s Pyotr Ilyich thinking “I’m not his (Dmitri’s) nursemaid, am I?” or Ivan declaring “I’m not her (Liza’s) nanny.” And then there’s Smerdyakov as the rejected son; like Cain, who is not acknowledged by his Father, “he might very well detest his position as compared with that of his master’s legitimate children: everything goes to them, you see, and nothing to him.” If we look beyond just the canonical Bible, and consider the larger Cain and Abel narrative present in the Midrashic tradition and early Christian texts, we see parallels in the romantic disputes between the brothers; just as Cain and Abel quarrel over their own sisters when choosing a spouse, Dmitri and Ivan (and Fyodor too) fight over the same women and form a sort of double-love triangle which fuels their conflicts. But now it seems that I might be trying too hard to find similarities in the stories and so I will return to what I think are the more important parallels in the narratives: that, in this world, we are constantly battling our own evil tendencies and that, above all, we are in fact our brothers’ keepers.


Just like Cain, each of Dostoevsky’s characters struggles under the burden of human liberty of action and power of choice, “… for nothing has ever been more insufferable for man and for human society than freedom!” Again and again, they are faced with temptations of violence, greed, and lust, and many times, they do manage to make righteous, ethical choices, but they are not off the hook; they are complicit in each others’ crimes, sometimes in the most subtle of ways and they are all implicated in Fyodor’s murder, especially the brothers themselves. Their consciences are weighed by their shared desire to commit the deed, for “who doesn’t wish for his father’s death?” They each abet the killer in the slightest manners, creating the perfect circumstance for the crime, whether by leaving town on the right day or ignoring suspicious behavior or postponing a necessary visit. They encourage the violent act itself, and even give their approval of it, both consciously and subconsciously and so, “then, of course, (they are) solidary with him” – the murderer – “because (they) put him up to it.”


Guilt is thus depicted as an amorphous being; it doesn’t belong to one individual, but more to mankind as a whole. Though Smerdyakov was responsible for the exact blow that ended his father’s life, he does not hold all the blame on his own, for it was the entire town, all of Russian society, all of humanity which created a killer and allowed for a murder. Though we are accountable for our own actions, they are also shaped and motivated by many forces greater than ourselves and Dostoevsky commands us to ask “who is responsible for his destiny, who is responsible that for all his good inclinations, his noble, sensitive heart, he received such an absurd upbringing?” With this question, the meaning of “keeping” our brothers is forcibly expanded, and I begin to accuse not only Cain of failing to fulfill this duty, for he did indeed, but also his fellow humans; who allowed this evil, the anger and bitterness which drove him to fratricide, to penetrate their civilization, their family, and so corrupt their brother? Though it’s a rather melodramatic depiction, we cannot suppose that Cain’s, or Smerdyakov’s, experience is any different from the one the defense attorney paints:

“‘These people did nothing for my destiny, my upbringing, my education, nothing to make me better, to make a man of me. These people did not give me to eat, they did not give me to drink, I lay naked in prison and they did not visit me, and now they have exiled me to penal servitude. I am quits, I owe them nothing now, and I owe nothing to anyone unto ages of ages. They are wicked, and I shall be wicked. They are cruel, and I shall be cruel.’”

And so, we are held accountable not only for our own sins, but for our role in the sins of others. We are called by the words of the Pentateuch, the gospel of Jesus, the faith of Dostoevsky and many others, and by the interrelated network of humanity itself to care for our fellow beings, or else face the consequences of a “civilization” filled with unloved, unfed creatures. It is a daunting call to action, but one that cannot be ignored.


And it’s also a call that offers hope and allows for endless possibility and goodness, even amidst all this aforementioned evil. When we acknowledge this responsibility, this communal guilt and wretchedness, we are not dragged down into despair, but instead exalted together as a broken, but redeemed humanity:

“When he knows that he is not only worse than all those in the world, but is also guilty before all people, on behalf of all and for all, for all human sins, the world’s and each person’s, only then will the goal of our unity be achieved. For you must know, my dear ones, that each of us is undoubtedly guilty on behalf of all and for all on earth, not only because of the common guilt of the world, but personally, each one of us, for all people and for each person on this earth…”

We are given the burden of collective guilt, but also the majestic beauty of collective salvation. Like Cain, we are surrounded by evil, but we have the ability to rule over it and with that, the ability to create unparalleled brilliance, to rescue both ourselves and our brothers, to create Paradise on Earth; we wander this world, marked by our undeniable guilt, but simultaneously, we have the power to restore dignity to human existence:

“Even there, in the mines, underground, you can find a human heart in the convict and murderer standing next to you, and you can be close to him, because there, too, it’s possible to live, and love, and suffer! You can revive and resurrect the frozen heart in this convict, you can look after him for years, and finally bring up from the cave into the light a soul that is lofty now, a suffering consciousness, you can revive an angel, resurrect a hero! And there are many of them, there are hundreds, and we’re all guilty for them! Why did I have a dream about a ‘wee one’ at such a moment? ‘Why is the wee one poor?’ It was a prophecy to me at that moment! It’s for the ‘wee one’ that I will go. Because everyone is guilty for everyone else. For all the ‘wee ones,’ because there are little children and big children. All people are ‘wee ones.’ And I’ll go for all of them, because there must be someone who will go for all of them…”


But after we have accepted our role in the baseness of the world, how is this salvation achieved in the everyday, how do we resurrect the heart of our fellow convict? I am convinced that we do so not through grandiose, heroic actions, but by the humble fulfillment of our responsibilities in whatever community we are a member of and by simple acts of hopeful love. This collective salvation, this Heaven on Earth, is a process, an unending creation constructed from small kindnesses, happy memories, little onions, deeds which are insignificant and unimpressive in their intention but which make a forever impression on the heart, swift moments of love which give us solace and strength “even in the torments of disgrace.” As our hero Alyosha says, “even if only one good memory remains with us in our hearts, that alone may serve some day for our salvation.” Or, as Michael Cunningham, inspired by another hero, a certain Virginia Woolf, might say, it is precisely those unexceptional, ordinary yet utterly resplendent instances which save us, the moments of communion and happiness which allow us to face the hours of our earthly existence with courage and faith. These moments are glimpses of the face of God, and thus are fleeting, but are all-important and, most significantly, within our reach.


It is in this way that Dostoevsky offers a partial answer to Ivan’s questioning and a resolution to our accusations of God. The divine Father may be omnipotent, but we have our own potency as well, and we must realize what destruction we often wreak with that power. Though we do not know why God allowed us this dual nature, this tendency towards both creation and annihilation, the ability to save or damn ourselves, we need to acknowledge that we do have these potentials, and that we also have the capacity to choose between them. Though God allows it to occur through the burden and gift of free will that He has bestowed upon us, we create the suffering in the world that so horrifies us. As Ivan says later in the novel, referring to the devilish vision he confronts in a dream-like state, “(we) would much prefer that he were really he and not (us)”, that the ills of the world were completely attributable to a supernatural being and not to our own actions. Instead, we are left with only ourselves to blame; we must take responsibility for the tragedies and atrocities of this world and then, with this self-revelation in mind, recreate the world through compassion and brotherly care.


I can admit to the fact that this is not a very good paper; not only is it being turned in weeks after the deadline, it is somewhat lacking in style and its claims are less than ground-breaking. I am looking at The Brothers Karamazov at a most direct angle, not at all askew, and focusing on fairly basic, though important, themes – even I am slightly confused as to why I decided to paint myself into this corner. But I do know that the uncertainty and sophomoric nature of this paper tell more about my own thought process since reading The Brothers Karamazov and over the last semester than any more conclusive or discerning essay could. I am still turning these ideas over in my head, still considering them and their implications in my life, and so they remain in a raw, unrefined state. I have yet to glean any unique insights from these 800 thought-provoking pages, but as I wait in vain for some sudden divine revelation, I will remember that:

“Until then we must keep hold of the banner, and every once in a while, if only individually, a man must suddenly set an example, and draw the soul from its isolation for an act of brotherly communion, though it be with the rank of holy fool. So that the great thought does not die…”

As foolish as I can be, as unwise as I often am, I know I am capable of at least trying to work for the salvation of my fellow humans and thus myself; I can continue on in my insignificant life attempting to be one of the few lights gleaming in the pale darkness. I can keep Christian’s words (when he writes “I’ve lived enough to know that I am complicit in the evil that, alas, prevails over the world and the evil that will smite me blindly”, I can’t help but think of Dostoevsky) in mind and use his actions as inspiration; I can serve humbly, not as a martyr, but merely as a citizen who is doing what needs to be done – being my brothers’ and sisters’ and fathers’ and mothers’ keepers.