III

Apart from the fact that the expectation of personal happiness and external perfection from religion is not justified by reality, the unification of the pursuit of happiness and perfection and the striving for the divine in their immediately given character must be considered unreasonable, because it leads consistently to atheism. The religion of the natural man takes one of two directions: for him, either religion is only a means to the attainment of earthly, natural-human ends, or the divine is the opposite of all that is natural-human. In the first, worst case, which we encounter in the religion of the Chinese, religion materializes and contains at its basis atheism, i.e. the denial of the divine in its own, invisible, nature. In the second direction, which characterizes Buddhism, we are dealing with idealism, which seems to be far from atheism. But in reality, extreme idealism leads to a separation between heavenly ideals and human life, between religious and everyday life. If the divine denies the earthly, then the worldly also excludes the heavenly, for which there is no place in natural human life. And this is the same atheism.

Chinese materialism and Buddhist idealism are not alien to us, and we suffer from them. We have built our worldly life in such a way and understand religious affairs in such a way that an impassable abyss is formed between the two. We are capable of religious enthusiasm, we are capable of good and even great deeds, but the moments of idealistic elation stand as lonely oases in the endless desert of our everyday life. We think that religion is religion, and life is life. We are willingly ready to recognize people who are not of this world, we reverently bow down before the desert dwellers and hermits, but with surprise and even indignation we meet a "layman" who lives in God's way: in God's way one can live only outside the world. This is because the worldly man, identifying the ideal with external perfection and personal happiness, worships only external greatness and can believe in holiness only if it appears to him in visible glory, with a smile of self-satisfaction, in freedom from natural limitations, in detachment from everyday life. We look upon the holy life as a life primarily free from limitations and sufferings, and we identify religion with the realm of the miraculous; In our opinion, it is disgusted by our everyday life with its petty worries, with its base demands, natural conditions. In order to enter the realm of religion, we think we need to renounce life. A saint, according to our ideas, is the same as a miracle worker – a person who is free from the conditions of natural life. We consider miraculous power to be the measure of holiness, and the absence of miracles serves for us as an indisputable sign of sinfulness. Miracles are an indicator of the presence and existence of a deity; The absence of miracles when we expect them is the basis of unbelief. In this case, the separation between heavenly ideals and natural life turns into open atheism. Instead of proving the stated position, we will cite two stories to illustrate it. G. Uspensky in the story "Paramon the Holy Fool" depicts before us the Russian society for the 30-40s, which for the ordinary Russian crowd were the most deaf, the deadest time. Everything was intimidated. Eternal and unceasing anxiety about the "guilt" of existence itself in the world pervaded all mutual relations, all social connections, all thoughts. In such an environment, Paramon the holy fool appears, who was sheltered by one family. The holy fool Paramon was a real, peasant, peasant holy man. He came from a peasant family, was married, but, obeying the voice and the vision, he left his home, wife and children and went to save his soul. He also saved his soul in the Russian peasant way, i.e. by the most genuine mortification of the flesh, by extreme self-torture. Something extraneous to everyday life emanated from him, and in the members of the family where he had settled, this something awakened ideal-religious aspirations, raised their thoughts to the stars, to the sky. In his presence they began to talk not only about grief and misfortune, but also about God and paradise. Paramon settled in the garden, in a gazebo, and spent most of his time in prayer before the icons of the saints and in listening to akathists. At the sight of the holy fool praying with inspiration, the whole family was transported by their thoughts to another, unearthly world. Several days of Paramon's serene life under the shelter of the house that sheltered him passed, when suddenly the peace was broken by an insignificant circumstance. The district police officer came to Paramon with a demand for his passport. The holy fool not only did not have a passport, but did not even understand what he was being asked about, and thus aroused even greater suspicions. The terrible appearance of the district police officer and Paramon's extreme detachment from life, his irresponsibility before the requirements of the everyday order of existence, all the members of the family were so frightened and indignant against the holy fool that they were very relieved when he was taken away by the district policeman: as if a mountain had been lifted off everyone's shoulders. "And flew away from us," says one of the family members, "the angel of awakened consciousness flew away from us (at the appearance of the quartermaster)."

The members of this family were no strangers to religious enthusiasm; in the sight of the praying fool, they themselves were carried away by their thoughts to the distant world above the stars; but... This enthusiasm was expressed only in the gazebo and was expressed precisely in the desire for the superstellar world, infinitely remote from our planet. There was no connection between all everyday life and moments of religious inspiration, the influence of Paramon did not extend to everyday life, and now the petty phenomenon of everyday life was enough to threaten trouble for "the angel of awakened consciousness to fly away." This sharply manifested the lack of those principles, the application of which could reconcile the holiness of the holy fool with the conditions and requirements of everyday life. Worldly life does not provide a place for holiness, has not set aside a corner for it in its complex system; holiness does not affect worldly life, does not condescend to it, is not embodied in its phenomena and forms.

No less significant are the disturbances and temptations that arose at the grave of Father Zosima, according to another story, according to the masterful story of F.M. Dostoevsky in The Brothers Karamazov, which is filled with the most lively truth. Fr. Zosima was a holy man both in his actual inner mood and in the opinion, or faith, of the majority of those who knew him, although he had many enemies among the monastic brethren. In extreme old age, surrounded by the love of many thousands of believers, Fr. Zosima died a beautiful death as a righteous man. And soon, even suddenly after his death, an impatient expectation of the miraculous power began to be revealed both in the monastic brethren and in the laity. Unanimously, as many as thousands had one question about this miraculous power at the grave of the deceased – the question arose both among the enemies and among the admirers of the deceased. For the former, it was a direct question about the sanctity of the deceased elder; the majority of believers expected this power as an undoubted consequence and reward of holiness. Many from the city brought the sick to the grave, apparently hoping for the immediate power of healing. At the same time, of course, the expectation of decay and a pernicious spirit from the body of the deceased was considered absurd, and the opposite seemed certain. But then, so unexpectedly for everyone, a pernicious spirit began to emanate from the coffin. The news of this instantly spread throughout the skete, penetrated into the monastery, and quickly reached the city. And suddenly behind this event there was such a temptation, rudely unbridled, that it is difficult to imagine. This pernicious spirit, so natural, not only extinguished faith in the holiness of the departed elder, but in it they saw God's deliberate indication of the sinfulness of the deceased. His enemies raised their heads proudly, and all those who loved him were suddenly terribly frightened of something, and when they met each other, they timidly only looked into each other's eyes. Even Alyosha wavered in his faith. "I do not rebel against my God, but I do not accept His peace," he repeated, grinning wryly, the words of his brother.

If, therefore, the pursuit of happiness and perfection and the desire for heaven cannot be combined in their immediately given character, then either it is possible to recognize the goal of human life in the pursuit of happiness and perfection with complete disregard for the other pursuit, with a complete rejection of religion; or else it may be seen in religion as a sufficient basis for human happiness and perfection, with the recognition of the natural means for the attainment of the good as they are as unsuitable as they are superfluous, and the very striving for the attainment of happiness and perfection by natural means as a painful deception from which true religion frees; or, finally, it is necessary to find a higher synthesis of both strivings, to indicate such a goal of life as would reconcile the unsatisfied strivings for happiness and perfection with the divine content of life...

First of all, we must consider whether happiness and perfection can be recognized as the goal of human life.

CHAPTER TWO. Criticism of eudaimonism

I