The Grand Inquisitor

Within Dostoyevsky’s novel The Brothers Karamazov, there is a short, but very powerful piece in which Ivan describes to his brother, Alyosha, a poem which he was thinking of writing, called, The Grand Inquisitor. It describes a return to earth by Jesus, and his meeting with the eponymous Inquisitor. It puts forward a particular stance upon Christianity, which is relevant to this blog.

 

In summary, Jesus returns to earth, to 16^th century Seville, not as a second coming, but as a consolation for the faithful. Even though he does not speak, the people recognize him as Jesus and follow him. He performs various miracles, curing a man’s blindness and raising a young girl from the dead.

 

However, he is observed by the Grand Inquisitor, who orders his men to seize Jesus and throw him in jail. That night, the Inquisitor visits Jesus in prison and confesses to him what the church has done. The Inquisitor puts before Jesus, the three temptations which Jesus suffered at the hands of the devil in the desert – that Jesus should cause the people to love him by feeding them; that he should cause them to love him by performing a miracle; that he should assume rule over the world and unite all people into one kingdom under him. The Inquisitor notes that Jesus rejected these three stratagems for turning the people to him, since they would have meant that the people were not freely loving Jesus. Jesus wanted the people to freely love him above all else.

 

But, the Inquisitor observes, this is placing far too heavy a burden on most people. Most of humanity is weak, most are like children, and they cannot live up to what Jesus is expecting of them. So, whatever he may say about loving the people, Jesus does not actually do so. How can setting someone an impossibly high goal, and requiring that they achieve it, be loving them?

 

The church has seen what is happening, and has turned to those whom Jesus rejects and shown them love. The Church has given into the temptations in the desert and it uses miracle, mystery and authority to cause the people to love them and so save them from the dreadful freedom that is otherwise on offer. The people think that they are following Jesus and loving him, but they are really following bread and miracles. Still, the people are happy; the only unhappy ones are those in the Church who know of the deception. They are the ones who are strong enough to choose freedom and follow Jesus, but don’t; they follow the devil, because they love the people and want to make them happy.

 

Essentially, Ivan has raised a form of the problem of predestination. It seems as if God has created the majority of humanity to be damned, with just a small percentage strong enough to be saved. Most people are naturally revolted by the picture painted by the problem of predestination. It seems monstrous, and some of the solutions offered – that God is wonderful for saving anyone, for instance – put one in mind of small boys burning ants with a magnifying glass and letting a few get away.

 

To his credit, the Grand Inquisitor has reacted to this situation by offering hope to the people. Instead of condemning them, or ignoring them, the Church ministers to the weak. The church proclaims miracle, mystery and authority. And sometimes the church has given real bread to the poor. The church remains rich and the poor poor, but the poor can be grateful for whatever crumbs fall from the church’s table.

 

But how much easier is it for the Church to offer us this compelling case, than to directly proclaim what Jesus has to offer? – himself, and nothing more. He is not offering freedom from want; or life after death; or heavenly justice to compensate for all the injustice that is suffered upon earth. He is simply offering himself, whatever that may mean. That is a tough sell. Much easier to sell the opposite, and much more comforting. Much kinder to people – one gives them hope, rather than cruelly dashing it from their lips.

 

And, for the Church, for those who know, it is perhaps hard. They know the dreadful truth that there is nothing. But, for the sake of the people, the children, who are too weak to bear this nothing, they smile and say that all will be well. They know that the showers are really gas chambers, but it is kinder to the children not to say this. Better to play the games and sing the songs and smile than to tell the terrible truth and blight the little bit of life that they can cling to.

 

Who else would not do the same? If life is tragic rather than comic, there are few who can bear the tragedy and come out the other side. Better to pretend that life is comic. There is a nobility to tragedy and one can imagine Lucifer would bear it well (isn’t that what his story is about?). But perhaps nobility is somewhat over-rated. The tragic hero tends to take an awful lot of people with him as he thrashes around under his fate (and how many tragic non-heroes die for no gain at all?). The comic hero muddles through, somehow saving his comrades through his foolishness.