Alyosha: You're like the dad I never had.
Elder Zossima: You never had a dad?
Alyosha: I did but he sucked.
seen from Belarus
seen from Netherlands

seen from Greece
seen from Poland
seen from Mexico
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Germany
seen from Argentina
seen from Germany
seen from Algeria

seen from United States
seen from China

seen from France
seen from China

seen from Norway

seen from Poland
seen from Austria
Alyosha: You're like the dad I never had.
Elder Zossima: You never had a dad?
Alyosha: I did but he sucked.
“Brothers, have no fear of men's sin. Love a man even in his sin, for that is the semblance of Divine Love and is the highest love on earth. Love all God's creation, the whole of it and every grain of sand in it. Love every leaf, every ray of God's light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you have perceived it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day, and you will come at last to love the world with an all-embracing love. Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and untroubled joy. So do not trouble it, do not harass them, do not deprive them of their joy, do not go against God's intent. Man, do not exhale yourself above the animals: they are without sin, while you in your majesty defile the earth by your appearance on it, and you leave the traces of your defilement behind you — alas, this is true of almost every one of us! Love children especially, for like the angels they too are sinless, and they live to soften and purify our hearts, and, as it were, to guide us. Woe to him who offends a child. My young brother asked even the birds to forgive him. It may sound absurd, but it is right none the less, for everything, like the ocean, flows and enters into contact with everything else: touch one place, and you set up a movement at the other end of the world. It may be senseless to beg forgiveness of the birds, but, then, it would be easier for the birds, and for the child, and for every animal if you were yourself more pleasant than you are now. Everything is like an ocean, I tell you. Then you would pray to the birds, too, consumed by a universal love, as though in ecstasy, and ask that they, too, should forgive your sin. Treasure this ecstasy, however absurd people may think it.” - Fyodor Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov (1879–1880), Book VI, chapter 3: "Conversations and Exhortations of Father Zossima; Of Prayer, of Love, and of Contact with other Worlds" (translated by Constance Garnett).
TO ASK FORGIVENESS OF THE BIRDS focuses on Father Zossima, a central figure in Dostoevsky's masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov.
When Father Zossima was young, his dying brother asked forgiveness of the birds: “Though I can’t explain it to you, I like to humble myself before them, because I don’t know how to love them enough.”
These words became a cornerstone in Zossima’s existential theology, embracing love and absurdity - even love as absurdity.
Speaking with visitors before his own death, Zossima recalls his brother’s words: “My brother asked the birds to forgive him - that sounds senseless, but it is right - for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending - a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth.”
In Father Zossima, Dostoevsky embodies an honest, human response to the question of theodicy, marking a major development in early existentialist thought.
Author: Fyodor Dostoevsky
Translator: Constance Garnett
Editor: Anthony Opal
Booklet, 42 pp, 7 x 5.25 in
Language: English
ISBN: 978-1-7356630-2-9
Published: August 31, 2020
When Father Zossima was young, his dying brother asked forgiveness of the birds: “Though I can’t explain it to you, I like to humble myself before them, because I don’t know how to love them enough.”
These words became a cornerstone in Zossima’s existential theology, embracing love and absurdity - even love as absurdity.
Speaking with visitors before his own death, Zossima recalls his brother’s words: “My brother asked the birds to forgive him - that sounds senseless, but it is right - for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending - a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth.”
In Father Zossima, Dostoevsky embodies an honest, human response to the question of theodicy, marking a major development in early existentialist thought.
TO ASK FORGIVENESS OF THE BIRDS is available from The Economy Press.
TO ASK FORGIVENESS OF THE BIRDS: The Words of Father Zossima
When Father Zossima was young, his dying brother asked forgiveness of the birds: “Though I can’t explain it to you, I like to humble myself before them, because I don’t know how to love them enough.”
These words became a cornerstone in Zossima’s existential theology, embracing love and absurdity - even love as absurdity.
Speaking with visitors before his own death, Zossima recalls his brother’s words: “My brother asked the birds to forgive him - that sounds senseless, but it is right - for all is like an ocean, all is flowing and blending - a touch in one place sets up movement at the other end of the earth.”
In Father Zossima, Dostoevsky embodies an honest, human response to the question of theodicy, marking a major development in early existentialist thought.
Available from The Economy Press
the brothers karamazov:
peasant woman: i am heavily implying i killed my abusive husband when i got the chance and didnt regret it
elder zossima: understandable. have a good day
You pass by a little child, you pass by, spiteful, with ugly words, with wrathful heart; you may not have noticed the child, but he has seen you, and your image, unseemly and ignoble, may remain in his defenseless heart. You don't know it, but you may have sown an evil seed in him and it may grow, and all because you were not careful before the child, because you did not foster in yourself a careful, actively benevolent love.
The monk Zossima, in Dostoyevsky's Brothers Karamozov.
Above all, do not lie to yourself. A man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to a point where he does not discern any truth either in himself or anywhere around him, and thus falls into disrespect towards himself and others. Not respecting anyone, he ceases to love, and having no love, he gives himself up to passions and coarse pleasures, in order to occupy and amuse himself, and in his vices reaches complete bestiality, and it all comes from lying continually to others and to himself. A man who lies to himself is often the first to take offense. It sometimes feels very good to take offense, doesn't it? And surely he knows that no one has offended him, and that he himself has invented the offense and told lies just for the beauty of it, that he has exaggerated for the sake of effect, that he has picked on a word and made a mountain out of a pea — he knows all of that, and still he is the first to take offense, he likes feeling offended, it gives him great pleasure, and thus he reaches the point of real hostility… Do get up from your knees and sit down, I beg you, these posturings are false, too.
Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov