The Second Visit

A Reflection From The Brothers Karamazov

Nov 15, 2024

“Remember how I came to you a second time. Do you hear, remember it!”
— The Brothers Karamazov

I’m working my way through The Brothers Karamazov again. I’ve tried before but never reached the point where curiosity compelled me to finish it. I’ve crossed that threshold and can see why so many love this book.

I just finished Part 2, Book VI, of “The Russian Monk” — Father Zossima. The confession of a wealthy philanthropist is some of the best writing in the book. When I finished it, my pastoral inclinations took over, causing me to put down the book and pick up the pen.

*** People Typically Don’t Do Spoiler Alerts For Classics, But… SPOILER ALERT ***

A wealthy man came to Father Zossima after hearing of his impressive act of grace and courage during a duel. They met continuously, as people often do with clergy when they have something weighing on their hearts but haven’t found the courage to share it. One day, this man finally confessed to Zossima that he killed a lady he’d loved 14 years earlier. By sheer misfortune, one of her servants — a man who had publicly expressed violent feelings toward her to the other servants — was found drunk and with blood on his hands. He was arrested, quickly tried and thrown into prison. Soon after his imprisonment, he became ill and died. The true killer, the confessing philanthropist, was “free.”

As the years passed, however, the weight of unconfessed sin became unbearable. Upon hearing of Zossima’s honesty and kindness, he began visiting him, eventually disclosing his crime. This initial confession brought him some relief. But he knew there was a greater step still: he had to tell his family, his friends, and the courts.

One would think the first confession would lead quickly to the second, yet the man found every reason not to complete it. Instead, he kept visiting and talking, talking and visiting, presumably working up the courage.

During one visit, Zossima, wondering if the man would ever confess publicly, read these scriptures to the man:

“Verily, verily, I say unto you, except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit” (John 12:24). And, “It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God” (Hebrews 10:31).

The man felt as if he had indeed fallen into the hands of the living God; such is the torment of unconfessed sin. That day, he left Zossima not with confident resolve but with fearful resignation.

Later that evening, to Zossima’s surprise, the hesitant confessor returned to Zossima’s home and entered.

“Where have you been?” I asked him.
“I think,” he said, “I've forgotten something ... my handkerchief, I think.... Well, even if I've not forgotten anything, let me stay a little.”
He sat down. I stood over him. “You sit down, too,” said he.
I sat down. We sat still for two minutes; he looked intently at me and suddenly smiled—I remembered that—then he got up, embraced me warmly and kissed me.
“Remember,” he said, “how I came to you a second time. Do you hear, remember it!”
And he went out.1

‘Before the Confession’ (1879-85) by Ilya Repin.

The man was caught in what CS Lewis called “the teeth of temptations.” He wanted to do what was right; he wanted to be free. He wanted the experience of being in God’s hands to be joyous rather than wrathful! But to get there, to get to that bliss, would require him to unmask in front of those who loved and respected him, but knew him not! He was a man in torment.

We’ve all experienced this dilemma: being trapped between desiring to do what is right and what we feel God is leading us to do and coming to grips with what it will take to do it.

Over a decade ago, I pastored a small church where a lady, estranged from her mother, engaged in a frequent ritual with me. Whenever my sermon touched on forgiveness, reconciliation, and the like, she would say something like, “Pastor, that message was just for me. While you were preaching, I sensed God saying to me, ‘Now is the time, call your mother.’”

The next time I’d see her, I’d ask, “How’d it go with your mom?” Her response was always full of excuses: “I was too tired,” “I got home too late,” or “She should be the one to call me.” She, too, was a woman in torment. And for people in torment, any excuse will do.

Indeed, the enemy often waits until he sees a person ready to act. Then he begins whispering distractions to knock them off course. Having listened to his voice, they put the phone down, delete the email they typed, drop the keys back on the table, and retreat into the illusion of “freedom.”

How many people, having sensed the gentle but authoritative voice of God urging them towards righteousness, are deterred by the whispers of Satan? True freedom is right around the corner, and it lies through the hard path of obedience, but false freedom is right at hand, and all one must do to have it is… nothing. Close your ears to the voice of God and lull yourself into the deceptive arms of Satan.

However, we should expect resistance at the point of action, especially when obedience threatens our comfort. But we should also remember that that’s when our deliverance is nearest. It really is darkest before the dawn!

Back to the story.

Father Zossima’s tormented visitor left his house and returned home. The next day was his birthday, and it was customary for him to throw a big celebration, so he did. This time, instead of calling for attention to thank the guests, he called the room to attention, confessed his crime, and provided evidence that he had killed the woman 14 years earlier.

Nobody believed him. They thought he had gone mad. As the days flew past, he grew ill, which further convinced people of his mental and physical instability.

Zossima tried to visit him, but the man’s wife blamed him for her husband’s decline. After all, the man had spent an excessive amount of time with Zossima. Eventually, she relented and allowed the future monk to go and visit the man who was now lying at the point of death.

When Zossima finally entered, the man, breathing laboriously, said: “Do you remember how I came back to you that second time, at midnight? I told you to remember it. You know what I came back for? I came to kill you!”2

At the point of finding true freedom by confessing, he almost succumbed to the temptation to silence Zossima forever to protect his false freedom. By the grace of God, he did what was best and died in the merciful hands of God.

As I reflected on this story, I was reminded of another great book, The Pilgrim’s Progress by John Bunyan. Near the end, a character named “Ignorance” is seeking entrance to Heaven. He was right at the gate, within the reach of eternal bliss.

When questioned about his journey, it became clear that he didn’t come the right way. Instead of walking on the King’s highway, he took a convenient path; he prioritized self-preservation. Instead of entering eternal bliss, he was carried off through the gate of hell.

John Bunyan concluded his story with these words: “Then I saw that there was a way to hell, even from the gates of Heaven.”3

The truth often seems costly. In the end, it is the lies we live by that cost us everything.

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