Fyodor Dostoyevsky wrote arguably three of the greatest novels ever written: The Possessed, Crime and Punishment, and The Brothers Karamazov. There are episodes or excerpts from each of these that could stand on their own as a work of genius. I wrote about the dream in The Possessed. The story of the Grand Inquisitor from The Brothers is sometimes published as a standalone volume. But today I want to share one profound paragraph from Crime and Punishment. It is from the Constance Garnett translation, so it is public domain.

The protagonist, Raskolnikov, was sent to a Siberian labor camp for the crime he committed. Sonia, the girl he would eventually marry, accompanies him. He comes down with an illness in the late winter and spends a few weeks in the prison infirmary. Yes, some of the details are striking to what we are experiencing today: the pestilence originated in Asia (historically, most did), and this is happening during Lent so that Raskolnikov is not really well enough to celebrate Easter. Parallels?

But this is a dream. And it is profound. It reminds us that there are two kingdoms, and that man on his own may think he is great but there is something else in human nature. Yes, we are creative. Ten years ago I could not have been doing online classes the way I have been doing for the last two weeks. Amazing! And yet, how do we use, how do we even understand, that creativity and intelligence that makes mankind have dominion on the earth?

So here is Raskolnikov’s dream:

He was in the hospital from the middle of Lent till after Easter. When he was better, he remembered the dreams he had had while he was feverish and delirious. He dreamt that the whole world was condemned to a terrible new strange plague that had come to Europe from the depths of Asia. All were to be destroyed except a very few chosen. Some new sorts of microbes were attacking the bodies of men, but these microbes were endowed with intelligence and will. Men attacked by them became at once mad and furious. But never had men considered themselves so intellectual and so completely in possession of the truth as these sufferers, never had they considered their decisions, their scientific conclusions, their moral convictions so infallible. Whole villages, whole towns and peoples went mad from the infection. All were excited and did not understand one another. Each thought that he alone had the truth and was wretched looking at the others, beat himself on the breast, wept, and wrung his hands. They did not know how to judge and could not agree what to consider evil and what good; they did not know whom to blame, whom to justify. Men killed each other in a sort of senseless spite. They gathered together in armies against one another, but even on the march the armies would begin attacking each other, the ranks would be broken and the soldiers would fall on each other, stabbing and cutting, biting and devouring each other. The alarm bell was ringing all day long in the towns; men rushed together, but why they were summoned and who was summoning them no one knew. The most ordinary trades were abandoned, because everyone proposed his own ideas, his own improvements, and they could not agree. The land too was abandoned. Men met in groups, agreed on something, swore to keep together, but at once began on something quite different from what they had proposed. They accused one another, fought and killed each other. There were conflagrations and famine. All men and all things were involved in destruction. The plague spread and moved further and further. Only a few men could be saved in the whole world. They were a pure chosen people, destined to found a new race and a new life, to renew and purify the earth, but no one had seen these men, no one had heard their words and their voices.

Raskolnikov was worried that this senseless dream haunted his memory so miserably, the impression of this feverish delirium persisted so long. The second week after Easter had come.

Such wisdom!

May we use this time to understand that we are not the measure of all things. May God have mercy on us, and may we learn to understand His ways are the best. Let us be Easter people. Let Hallelujah be our song.

Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. 1866. Translated by Constance Garnett, Project Gutenberg, 27 Oct. 2016, gutenberg.org/ebooks/2554. Accessed 27 Mar. 2020.