I’ve been wanting to branch out from writing fiction and experiment with writing more non-fiction or reflective pieces on culture, Lit, etc. I this piece, I explore Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment and the sacrament of Reconciliation in the Catholic Church via a somewhat personal reflection. Happy reading!

“Through error you come to the truth!” It is this simplistic yet sound insight from the supporting character of Razumikhin in Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment that serves as the modus operandi for the author’s many works. The recurrent themes of man’s capacity for evil, the possibility for redemption and the illumination of truth is perhaps at their most potent in the aforementioned story above, a tale that is grotesque as it is beautiful.

From the first chapter, we are presented with a mirror in the person of Rodian Romanovich Raskolnikov (whose very surname may or may not be a play on the word “rascal”), the main protagonist of the book whose journey through his own guilt and shame at having done wrong serves as the focal point of the narrative.

Though hopefully our own wrongdoing is of a far lesser scale than Raskolnikov’s crime of murder, we nonetheless are immediately made aware of our own past, present or future wrongs and may or may not come to see the character as either an example to be avoided or all too familiar within ourselves. Racked with both shame and the desire to recuse himself of any true wrongdoing, Raskolnikov descends into madness. In the following chapters, he makes countless efforts to assuage his conscience of the reality of his fallen nature, yet regardless of his efforts he finds himself incapable of escaping accountability.

Like Raskolnikov, though I’m relieved to say that despite my many faults I have never and do not plan to commit murder any time soon, I too have found myself attempting to make light of my own harmful actions; admitting error is no easy task. But then again if it were easy it would not be half so rewarding. In Raskolnikov, it is all too easy for me to see myself from time to time, avoiding the awkwardness of the confessional, the embarrassment of uttering mea culpa, etc. At the same time, however, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the encouraging presence of shame within his character, which only increases the more he avoids his own trip to the confessional, or in his case, the police station. While avoidance of an issue should always be condemned, the shame that often accompanies it is no less commendable, as it presents an opportunity for accepting culpability.

Throughout his personal torment, Raskolnikov finds himself, much to his initial horror, in the presence of a certain confessor figure, found in the police inspector, Ilya Porfiry Petrovich. Their initial encounter is born of Raskolnikov being summoned by the police as a suspect/witness to the murder of the landlady and her servant given the location of his lodgings. While there, Raskolnikov momentarily becomes overwhelmed by paranoia and guilt, experiencing a fainting spell. When he comes to, he is greeted by Petrovich, who expresses genuine concern for his health and behaves in a kindly manner towards the protagonist during this brief yet catalytic meeting.

Despite this, Raskolnikov is immediately suspicious of Petrovich’s intentions, assuming he is playing a psychological game with him by feigning care and concern (which turns out to be partially true at first). He writes off Petrovich as an enemy out to do him harm and does everything in his power to avoid contact with him, though at the same time he is drawn to the enigmatic nature of the inspector. Again, I am reminded of many instances where I have felt as if my local parish priest could see into the depths of my soul whether I’d let slip the occasional F-bomb, lied, or gossiped during our brief interactions at Mass or out in public. Realistically, I have to remind myself these moments are nothing more than coincidence, or in some cases nudges from my own conscience to get my Catholic guilt riddled self to confession rather than omniscience on the part of my local priest.

As the story progresses, these chance or perhaps not-so-chance encounters continue between confessor and would-be penitent, each instance leaving Raskolnikov more and more troubled by his actions yet his stubbornness remains, though little by little it begins to lose its appeal. The comfort once found in his denial of any true wrongdoing wanes as the inspector’s shrewd tactics of gleaning the truth prevail and he is faced with the high probability of conviction. Fear of this occurrence begins to take hold of him and in perhaps the most moving scene of the book he grows extremely agitated with Petrovich in his office due to falling victim to his own conscience and Petrovich’s evocative methods, despite having dropped by of his own accord to provide a more detailed alibi.

The scene showcases what seems to be a subconscious cry for help by Raskolnikov, an accidental step towards the confessional door brought on by both an active conscience and the unintended or intended calls to reconciliation by the almost priestly Petrovich. Using both his professional and spiritual insight, Petrovich dismisses what he considers in Raskolnikov to be “moral agnosticism" and subtly plants the seeds of repentance in the young criminal’s soul. The encounter rattles Raskolnikov and signals the nearness of his apprehension.

When I first read this particular chapter, I couldn’t help but recall how similar it is to attend Mass on one’s own volition only to be reminded of the fact that attending does not signal moral perfection but the hunger to restore peace within oneself. Instead of a wily police inspector to evoke self reflection, we may come face to face with a cheery, elderly Irish priest holding up the sacrificial Host, silently challenging us to love ourselves and others via accountability. I wonder to myself how many times I have accepted the challenge with little to no intention of seeing it through?

Shortly after the encounter listed above, we arrive at the moment of truth, when Raskolnikov at last enters the confessional. He abandons his final attempt to flee responsibility and returns to the police station, confessing his guilt to Petrovich, who, like any good priest, has not only fulfilled his professional obligations but has also seen his underlying desire for the young man to be redeemed fulfilled. In turn, Raskolnikov has also found the peace he has hungered for. It is easy to be reminded of this ending scene when attending confession and easier yet to be comforted by it, as despite our hesitation and dislike of admitting when we’re wrong, there is a sense of relief afterwards, a catharsis of sorts.

While our sentence is reduced to three Hail Marys or an act of charity as opposed to the possibility of jail time or exile to a labor camp in Siberia, like Raskolnikov we leave the confessional knowing we have done wrong and that we must seek to right our wrongs by taking the challenge to lead an honest life to heart.