Resurrection by Leo Nikoleyevich Tolstoy (i love reading .TXT) 📖

should besides

drive out devils and cure people by laying his hands on them,

should talk in strange tongues, should take up serpents, and if

he drank poison should not die, but remain well.

 

The essence of the service consisted in the supposition that the

bits cut up by the priest and put by him into the wine, when

manipulated and prayed over in a certain way, turned into the

flesh and blood of God.

 

These manipulations consisted in the priest’s regularly lifting

and holding up his arms, though hampered by the gold cloth sack

he had on, then, sinking on to his knees and kissing the table

and all that was on it, but chiefly in his taking a cloth by two

of its corners and waving it regularly and softly over the silver

saucer and golden cup. It was supposed that, at this point, the

bread and the wine turned into flesh and blood; therefore, this

part of the service was performed with the greatest solemnity.

 

“Now, to the blessed, most pure, and most holy Mother of God,”

the priest cried from the golden partition which divided part of

the church from the rest, and the choir began solemnly to sing

that it was very right to glorify the Virgin Mary, who had borne

Christ without losing her virginity, and was therefore worthy of

greater honour than some kind of cherubim, and greater glory than

some kind of seraphim. After this the transformation was

considered accomplished, and the priest having taken the napkin

off the saucer, cut the middle bit of bread in four, and put it

into the wine, and then into his mouth. He was supposed to have

eaten a bit of God’s flesh and swallowed a little of His blood.

Then the priest drew a curtain, opened the middle door in the

partition, and, taking the gold cup in his hands, came out of the

door, inviting those who wished to do so also to come and eat

some of God’s flesh and blood that was contained in the cup. A

few children appeared to wish to do so.

 

After having asked the children their names, the priest carefully

took out of the cup, with a spoon, and shoved a bit of bread

soaked in wine deep into the mouth of each child in turn, and the

deacon, while wiping the children’s mouths, sang, in a merry

voice, that the children were eating the flesh and drinking the

blood of God. After this the priest carried the cup back behind

the partition, and there drank all the remaining blood and ate up

all the bits of flesh, and after having carefully sucked his

moustaches and wiped his mouth, he stepped briskly from behind

the partition, the soles of his calfskin boots creaking. The

principal part of this Christian service was now finished, but

the priest, wishing to comfort the unfortunate prisoners, added

to the ordinary service another. This consisted of his going up

to the gilt hammered-out image (with black face and hands)

supposed to represent the very God he had been eating,

illuminated by a dozen wax candles, and proceeding, in a strange,

discordant voice, to hum or sing the following words:

 

“Jesu sweetest, glorified of the Apostles, Jesu lauded by the

martyrs, almighty Monarch, save me, Jesu my Saviour. Jesu, most

beautiful, have mercy on him who cries to Thee, Saviour Jesu.

Born of prayer Jesu, all thy saints, all thy prophets, save and

find them worthy of the joys of heaven. Jesu, lover of men.”

 

Then he stopped, drew breath, crossed himself, bowed to the

ground, and every one did the same—the inspector, the warders,

the prisoners; and from above the clinking of the chains sounded

more unintermittently. Then he continued: “Of angels the Creator

and Lord of powers, Jesu most wonderful, the angels’ amazement,

Jesu most powerful, of our forefathers the Redeemer. Jesu

sweetest, of patriarchs the praise. Jesu most glorious, of kings

the strength. Jesu most good, of prophets the fulfilment. Jesu

most amazing, of martyrs the strength. Jesu most humble, of monks

the joy. Jesu most merciful, of priests the sweetness. Jesu most

charitable, of the fasting the continence. Jesu most sweet, of

the just the joy. Jesu most pure, of the celibates the chastity.

Jesu before all ages of sinners the salvation. Jesu, son of God,

have mercy on me.”

 

Every time he repeated the word “Jesu” his voice became more and

more wheezy. At last he came to a stop, and holding up his

silk-lined cassock, and kneeling down on one knee, he stooped

down to the ground and the choir began to sing, repeating the

words, “Jesu, Son of God, have mercy on me,” and the convicts

fell down and rose again, shaking back the hair that was left on

their heads, and rattling with the chains that were bruising

their thin ankles.

 

This continued for a long time. First came the glorification,

which ended with the words, “Have mercy on me.” Then more

glorifications, ending with “Alleluia!” And the convicts made the

sign of the cross, and bowed, first at each sentence, then after

every two and then after three, and all were very glad when the

glorification ended, and the priest shut the book with a sigh of

relief and retired behind the partition. One last act remained.

The priest took a large, gilt cross, with enamel medallions at

the ends, from a table, and came out into the centre of the

church with it. First the inspector came up and kissed the cross,

then the jailers, then the convicts, pushing and abusing each

other in whispers. The priest, talking to the inspector, pushed

the cross and his hand now against the mouths and now against the

noses of the convicts, who were trying to kiss both the cross and

the hand of the priest. And thus ended the Christian service,

intended for the comfort and the teaching of these strayed

brothers.

 

CHAPTER XL.

 

THE HUSKS OF RELIGION.

 

And none of those present, from the inspector down to Maslova,

seemed conscious of the fact that this Jesus, whose name the

priest repeated such a great number of times, and whom he praised

with all these curious expressions, had forbidden the very things

that were being done there; that He had prohibited not only this

meaningless much-speaking and the blasphemous incantation over

the bread and wine, but had also, in the clearest words,

forbidden men to call other men their master, and to pray in

temples; and had ordered that every one should pray in solitude,

had forbidden to erect temples, saying that He had come to

destroy them, and that one should worship, not in a temple, but

in spirit and in truth; and, above all, that He had forbidden not

only to judge, to imprison, to torment, to execute men, as was

being done here, but had prohibited any kind of violence, saying

that He had come to give freedom to the captives.

 

No one present seemed conscious that all that was going on here

was the greatest blasphemy and a supreme mockery of that same

Christ in whose name it was being done. No one seemed to realise

that the gilt cross with the enamel medallions at the ends, which

the priest held out to the people to be kissed, was nothing but

the emblem of that gallows on which Christ had been executed for

denouncing just what was going on here. That these priests, who

imagined they were eating and drinking the body and blood of

Christ in the form of bread and wine, did in reality eat and

drink His flesh and His blood, but not as wine and bits of bread,

but by ensnaring “these little ones” with whom He identified

Himself, by depriving them of the greatest blessings and

submitting them to most cruel torments, and by hiding from men

the tidings of great joy which He had brought. That thought did

not enter into the mind of any one present.

 

The priest did his part with a quiet conscience, because he was

brought up from childhood to consider that the only true faith

was the faith which had been held by all the holy men of olden

times and was still held by the Church, and demanded by the State

authorities. He did not believe that the bread turned into flesh,

that it was useful for the soul to repeat so many words, or that

he had actually swallowed a bit of God. No one could believe

this, but he believed that one ought to hold this faith. What

strengthened him most in this faith was the fact that, for

fulfilling the demands of this faith, he had for the last 15

years been able to draw an income, which enabled him to keep his

family, send his son to a gymnasium and his daughter to a school

for the daughters of the clergy. The deacon believed in the same

manner, and even more firmly than the priest, for he had

forgotten the substance of the dogmas of this faith, and knew

only that the prayers for the dead, the masses, with and without

the acathistus, all had a definite price, which real Christians

readily paid, and, therefore, he called out his “have mercy, have

mercy,” very willingly, and read and said what was appointed,

with the same quiet certainty of its being necessary to do so

with which other men sell faggots, flour, or potatoes. The prison

inspector and the warders, though they had never understood or

gone into the meaning of these dogmas and of all that went on in

church, believed that they must believe, because the higher

authorities and the Tsar himself believed in it. Besides, though

faintly (and themselves unable to explain why), they felt that

this faith defended their cruel occupations. If this faith did

not exist it would have been more difficult, perhaps impossible,

for them to use all their powers to torment people, as they were

now doing, with a quiet conscience. The inspector was such a

kind-hearted man that he could not have lived as he was now

living unsupported by his faith. Therefore, he stood motionless,

bowed and crossed himself zealously, tried to feel touched when

the song about the cherubims was being sung, and when the

children received communion he lifted one of them, and held him

up to the priest with his own hands.

 

The great majority of the prisoners believed that there lay a

mystic power in these gilt images, these vestments, candles,

cups, crosses, and this repetition of incomprehensible words,

“Jesu sweetest” and “have mercy”—a power through which might be

obtained much convenience in this and in the future life. Only a

few clearly saw the deception that was practised on the people

who adhered to this faith, and laughed at it in their hearts; but

the majority, having made several attempts to get the

conveniences they desired, by means of prayers, masses, and

candles, and not having got them (their prayers remaining

unanswered), were each of them convinced that their want of

success was accidental, and that this organisation, approved by

the educated and by archbishops, is very important and necessary,

if not for this, at any rate for the next life.

 

Maslova also believed in this way. She felt, like the rest, a

mixed sensation of piety and dulness. She stood at first in a

crowd behind a railing, so that she could see no one but her

companions; but when those to receive communion moved on, she

and Theodosia stepped to the front, and they saw the inspector,

and, behind him, standing among the warders, a little peasant,

with a very light beard and fair hair. This was Theodosia’s

husband, and he was gazing with fixed eyes at his wife. During

the acathistus Maslova occupied