In Dostoevsky’s "Brothers Karamazov," we have Ivan’s narrative
about a Grand Inquisitor of the Church lecturing a silent Jesus who
re-visits the Earth and is arrested during the 16th century
inquisition. The speech seems to me a chilling prophecy being fulfilled
these days in the North American Christian right where fundamentalism
and dominion theology have risen phoenix-like in reaction to both 9-11
and postmodernism. As I read Dostoevsky’s 125 year old warning, I
confess that I shuddered. When will we begin to listen to the prophet’s
voice?
"We have corrected Your work and have now founded it on miracle, mystery, and
authority. And men rejoice at being led like cattle again, with the terrible
gift of freedom that brought them so much suffering removed from them. Tell
me; were we right in preaching and acting as we did? Was it not our love for
men that made us resign ourselves to the idea of their impotence and
lovingly try to lighten the burden of the responsibility, even allowing
their weak nature to sin, but with our permission? Why have You come to
interfere with our work? And why do You look at me silently with those
gentle eyes of Yours? Be angry with me. I do not want Your love, because I
do not love You myself. Why should I go on pretending that I do not know to
whom I am speaking? Everything I have to say You already know-I can read it
in Your eyes. How could I expect to hide our secret form You? But perhaps
You want to hear it from my own lips. Listen then: we are not with You, we
are with him–and that is our secret, our mystery! We have been with him and not with You for a long time, for eight centuries already. Exactly eight centuries ago we accepted from him
what You had rejected with indignation, the last gift he offered You
all the kingdoms of earth. We accepted Rome and Caesar’s sword from him,
and we proclaimed ourselves the sole rulers of the earth, although to
this day we have not yet succeeded in bringing our work to final
completion.
"But You know who is to blame for that. Our work
is only beginning, but at least it has begun. And although its
completion is still a long way off and the earth will have to face much
suffering until then, in the end we shall prevail, we will be Caesars,
and then we shall devise a plan for universal happiness. But You, You
could have taken Caesar’s sword when You came the first time. Why did
You reject that last gift? Had You accepted the third offering of the
mighty spirit, You would have fulfilled man’s greatest need on earth.
That is, the need to find someone to worship, someone who can relieve
him of the burden of his conscience, thus enabling him finally to unite
into a harmonious ant-hill where there are no dissenting voices, for
the unquenchable thirst for universal unity is the third and last
ordeal of man. Men have always striven to be organized into a universal
whole. There have been many great nations with a glorious past history,
but the higher the stage of development they reached the greater was
their discontent, because they became fore and more obsessed with the
need for universal unification. The great conquerors, the Tamelanes and
the Genghis Khans, who swept like whirlwinds across the earth, striving
to subdue the whole world, were also, even if they were unaware of it
themselves, obeying that eternal human craving for universal union. Had
you accepted Caesar’s purple, You would have founded a universal empire
and given man lasting peace. For who can rule men if not one who holds
both their consciences and their bread? So we took Caesar’s sword and,
by taking it, we rejected You and followed him. Oh, there will still be
centuries of chaos, in which men will be guided by their own unbridled
thinking, by their science, and by their cannibal instincts, for, since
they started building the tower of Babel without us, they will end up
devouring each other. But it will be just at that moment that the beast
will crawl to us, lick our feet, and spatter them with the tears of
blood. And we shall saddle and mount the beast and raise the cup on
which the word "mystery" is engraved. Then, and only then, will the
reign of peace and happiness come to men."
Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov, trans. by Andrew MacAndrew (New York:
Bantam, 1970) 342-343. Written in 1880.