A Confession by Leo Tolstoy - Chapter 14

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter fourteen of a confession by Leo Tolstoy, translated by
Almer Maud. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
It was then so necessary for me to believe in
order to live that I unconsciously concealed from myself the
contradictions and obscurities of theology. But this reading of meanings
into the rites had its limits. If the chief words
in the prayer for the Emperor became more and more

(00:20):
queer to me, if I found some explanation for the words,
and remembering our Sovereign, most Holy Mother of God and
all the saints ourselves in one another, we give our
whole life to Christ, our God. If I explained to
myself the frequent repetitions of prayers for the Csar and
his relations by the fact that they are more exposed
to temptations in other people, and therefore are more in
need of being prayed for. The prayers about subduing our

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enemies and evil under our feet, even if one tried
to say that sin was the enemy being prayed against.
These and other prayers such as the Cheribic song and
the whole sacrament of oblation, or the Chosen Warriors et cetera.
Quite two thirds of all the services either remained completely incomprehensible,
or when I forced an explanation to them, made me
feel that I was lying, thereby destroying my relation to
God and depriving me of all possibility of belief. I

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felt the same about the celebration of the Chief holidays.
To remember the Sabbath, that is, to devote one day
to God, was something I could understand. But the Chief
Holiday was in commemoration of the Resurrection, the reality of
which I could not picture to myself or understand. And
the name of Resurrection was also given to the Weekly holiday,
and on those days the sacrament of the Eucharist was administered,

(01:23):
which was quite unintelligible to me. The rest of the
twelve Great Holidays, except Christmas, commemorated miracles, the things I
tried not to think about in order to not deny
the Ascension, Pentecost, Epiphany, the feast of the Intercession of
the Holy Virgin, et cetera. At the celebration of these holidays,
feeling that importance was being attributed to the very things
that to me presented a negative importance, I either devised

(01:45):
tranquilizing explanations or shut my eyes in order not to
see what tempted me. Most of all, this happened to
me when taking part in the most usual sacraments, which
are considered the most important, Baptism and Communion. There I
experienced not incomprehensible, but fully comprehensible doings, doings which seemed
to me to lead into temptation, and I was in
a dilemma whether to lie or to reject them. Never

(02:06):
shall I forget the painful feeling I experienced the day
I received the eucharists for the first time after many years.
The service, confession, and prayers were quite intelligible and produced
in me a glad consciousness that the meaning of life
was being revealed to me. The communion itself I explained
as an act I performed in remembrance of Christ and
indicating a purification from sin and the full acceptance of
Christ's teachings. If that explanation was artificial, I did not

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notice its artificiality. So happy was I humbling and abasing
myself before a priest, a simple, timid country clergyman, turning
all the dirt out of my soul and confessing my vices.
So glad was I to merge in thought with the
humanity of the fathers who wrote the prayers of the Office.
So glad was I of union with all those who
have believed and now believe that. I did not notice
the artificiality of my explanation. But when I approached the

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altar gates and the priest made me say that I
believed that what I was about to swallow was truly
flesh in blood, I felt a pain in my heart.
It was not merely a false note. It was a
cruel demand made by someone or other who evidently had
never known what faith is. I now permit myself to
say that it was a cruel demand, but I did
not then think so, only that it was indescribably painful
to me. I was no longer in the position in

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which I had been in youth, when I thought that
all in life was clear. I had indeed come to faith,
because apart from faith I had found nothing, certainly nothing
except destruction. Therefore, to throw away that faith was impossible,
and I submitted. And I found in my soul a
feeling which helped me to endure it. This was the
feeling of self abasement and humility. I humbled myself swallowed
that flesh and blood without any blasphemous feelings and with

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a wish to believe. But the blow had been struck,
and knowing what awaited me, I could not go a
second time. I continued to fulfill the rights of the
Church and still believed that the doctrine I was following
contained the truth. When something happened to me which I
now understand, but which then seemed strange. I was listening
to the conversation of an illiterate peasant, a pilgrim, about God, faith,
life and salvation. When a knowledge of faith revealed itself

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to me. I drew near to the people, listening to
their opinions of life and faith, and I understood the
truth more and more. So. Also was it when I
read the lives of holy men, which became my favorite books,
putting aside the miracles and regarding them as fables illustrating thoughts.
This reading revealed to me life's meaning. There were the
lives of Macarius the Great, the story of Buddha. They
were the words of Saint John Chrysostom. And there were

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the stories of the Traveler and the Well, the monk
who found some gold, and of Peter the publican. There
were stories of the martyrs, all announcing that death does
not exclude life. And there were the stories of ignorant,
stupid men who knew nothing of the teaching of the Church,
but who yet were saved. But as soon as I
met learned believers or took up their books, doubt of myself, dissatisfaction,
and exasperated disputation were roused in me. And I felt

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that the more I entered into the meanings of these
men's speeches, the more I went astray from truth and
approached an abyss. End of chapter fourteen,