The smell of decay: an allegory for downcast converts who are up on current events and down on ecclesiology, and who forgot why we have cupolas

But now, back to the story. When before daybreak the elder’s body had been made ready for burial, laid out in the coffin, and taken into what used to be his reception room, someone had wondered aloud whether the windows should not be opened. The question, asked in a casual tone, remained unanswered and would have passed unnoticed had not some of the people present been struck by the very absurdity of its implication—that the body of such a saint might give off a smell of decay …

… By three in the afternoon … [the odor] became so clear and unmistakable that the news spread at once through the hermitage, was caught up by all the visitors there, reached the monastery, causing great amazement among the monks, and finally swept the town, stirring tremendous excitement among believers and unbelievers alike. The unbelievers, of course, were delighted, although some of the believers were even more delighted than the unbelievers themselves, because “men enjoy witnessing the fall and disgrace of the upright,” as the elder himself had said in one of his discourses.

… Not in the living memory of our monastery had there been such a disgraceful display of sinful and unrepentant behavior among the monks as there was immediately after this fact had become known. Later, the most reasonable of our monks could not remember the events of that day without horror and amazement, wondering how the public scandal could have reached such incredible proportions …

Once the decay had been noticed, monks kept hurrying in and out of the cell, and it was quite obvious why they came. They would come in, stand about for a moment, then leave again, to confirm the news to a group of others waiting outside … It is a fact that the flow of lay visitors visibly increased after 3 p.m. and there is no doubt that this increase was due to the shocking news.

“Do you, too, feel like the others?” Father Paisii said to [Alyosha] at last. “Have you joined these men who have so little faith?” he added bitterly.

Alyosha stopped, lifted his eyes, gave Father Paisii a strangely vague glance, and looked down again …

“Where are you off to in such a hurry? Didn’t you hear the bell announcing the service?” he asked again, but again Alyosha did not answer. “Or are you leaving the hermitage?” Paisii went on. “But if so, why without taking leave and without a blessing?”

A strange twisted grin then appeared on Alyosha’s face. He looked in a very strange way at the man to whose guidance he had been entrusted by his dying elder, who had such great influence on his mind and heart. Then he shrugged and, still without answering, walked quickly to the gate and out of the hermitage …

Let me say at this point that it was not an irresponsible impatience for miracles that was the cause of Alyosha’s trouble … What concerned him above all was the image of his beloved elder, the image of the righteous man whom he had venerated to the point of adoration. The truth of the matter was that all the love contained in that pure young heart, a love sufficient to extend to “everyone and everything,” had then, as it had during the whole preceding year, been concentrated, perhaps wrongly, on one single person. And that person, Alyosha’s beloved elder, was now dead … What he needed after Father Zosima’s death was not miracles but “higher justice,” and he felt it had been violated …

“Are you really in this state just because that old man of yours has begun to rot? You didn’t really believe he’d start performing miraculous tricks the moment he died, did you?” Rakitin cried …

“I did believe, I still believe, and I want to believe – and now what more do you want to know?” Alyosha cried irritably.

“Nothing, nothing at all … but what it really amount to is that you’re angry with your God today—it’s as though there had been unfair discrimination and the right man had not got his promotion …”

“I’m not angry with my God—I just cannot accept His world,” Alyosha said with a twisted grin …

[But later, while still in despair and anger, he spoke of love to a very undeserving woman, one who learned, from him, to love much.]

All of a sudden, [Grushenka] was kneeling before him as if in a frenzy.

“I’ve waited all my life for someone like you,” she said. “I knew he’d come one day and forgive me. I believed he’d love me, unclean as I am, love me truly, not just like an animal.”

“Why, what have I done?” Alyosha said with a shy smile. He bent down and took her tenderly by the hand. “Perhaps it’s just an onion,” he said. “I gave you just one tiny little onion, no more …” And he himself burst into tears …

Alyosha quietly opened the door [at nine o’clock] to the elder’s cell, where his coffin now was. There was no one there except Father Paisii, who was reading the Gospels by the coffin … Alyosha went to a corner, knelt down, and began to pray …

“ 'And the third day there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee,’” Father Paisii read, “’and the mother of Jesus was there: and both Jesus was called, and His disciples, to the marriage.’”

“Marriage … What marriage? …” The words whirled through Alyosha’s head …

“ 'And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto Him, They have no wine’ …”

“Ah, yes, I missed a passage there … That’s a shame—I didn’t want to miss it—I love that passage—it’s Cana of Galilee, the first miracle … Ah, that miracle, what a lovely miracle! It wasn’t sorrow, it was human happiness that Christ extolled, and the first miracle He worked was to bring men happiness …’He who loves men loves their happiness,’ Father Zosima used to repeate so often—that was one of his guiding ideas … What is true and beautiful is always full of forgiveness—the elder used to say that too …”

“ 'Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come.

“ 'His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever He saith unto you, do it.’”

“Do it … Give happiness to some poor people …”

“ 'Jesus saith unto them, Fill the waterpots with water. And they filled them up to the brim …’”

…

“Let us enjoy ourselves,” said the dried-up little man. “Let us drink new wine, the wine of great, new happiness. Look at all the guests, and look, thre are the bridegroom and the bride. And now the wise governor of the feast will taste the new wine. Why are you looking at me with such surprise? Once I gave an onion away and here I am. Many others here have also given away only one onion, one single little onion each … What do you think our deeds were? Why, you too, my quiet, gentle boy, you too knew how to give an onion to a needy woman today. So start out, my sweet, gentle boy, do your work … Can you see our sun now? Can you see Him?”

“I am afraid … I don’t dare look,” Alyosha whispered.

“Don’t be frightened of Him. Though He is frightening in His greatness, terrifying in His majesty, He is also infinitely merciful and, out of love, He has made Himself like one of us and shares our joy and turns our water into wine, so that the joy of the guests shall not cease, and He invites more and more guests, unceasingly, more new guests forever and ever. Look, see, they are bringing new vessels in …”

Suddenly, [Alyosha] turned abruptly away and walked out of the room. He did not stop outside the door, but walked quickly into the yard. His soul was overflowing with emotion and he felt he needed lots of room to move freely. Over his head was the vast vault of the sky, studded with shining, silent stars. The still-dim Milky Way was split in two from the zenith to the horizon. A cool, completely still night enfolded the earth. The white towers and the golden domes gleamed in the sapphire sky. The gorgeous autumnal flowers in the flowerbeds by the buildings were asleep until morning. The silence of the earth seemed to merge with the silence of the sky and the mystery of the earth was one with the mystery of the stars …

He did not know why he was hugging the earth, why he could not kiss it enough, why he longed to kiss it all … He kissed it again and again, drenching it with his tears, vowing to love it always, always. “Water the earth with the tears of your joy and love those tears,” a voice rang out in his soul … It was as if the threads of all those innumerable worlds of God had met in his soul and his soul was vibrating from its contact with “different worlds.” He craved to forgive everyone and everything and to beg for forgiveness … Every moment he felt clearly, almost physically, something real and indestructible, like the vault of the sky over his head, entering his soul. Something, a kind of idea, had taken over his soul forever and ever. He was a weak youth when he fell on the ground and he rose a strong and determined fighter.

...

Thanks, Fyodor.

Comments

[Reader John]

Thanks, Fr. Jonathan - including thanks for the caption (I probably wouldn't have gotten it otherwise).

[ochlophobist]

"a kind of idea" hmmm.

a story about a group of monks perfuming the body of a notoriously unrighteous elder might also have been apt.

thanks.

[JohnH]

Perhaps my favorite excerpts from Bros. K. -- Thanks for reminding me of them!

[Alex]

This was the scene in TBK that I never could figure out. I'm slow. Help...