“Marriage? What was that ... marriage ... ?” swept like a whirlwind through Alyosha’s mind. “There is happiness for her, too ... She went to the feast ... No, she didn’t take a knife, she didn’t take a knife, that was only a ‘pathetic’ phrase ... Well, one should forgive pathetic phrases, one must. Pathetic phrases ease the soul, without them men’s grief would be too heavy. Rakitin walked off into the alley. As long as Rakitin thinks about his grudges, he will always walk off into some alley ... But the road ... the road is wide, straight, bright, crystal, and the sun is at the end of it ... Ah? .. . what are they reading?”
“And when they wanted wine, the mother of Jesus saith unto him, They have no wine ... ,” Alyosha overheard.
“Ah, yes, I’ve been missing it and I didn’t want to miss it, I love that passage: it’s Cana of Galilee, the first miracle ... Ah, that miracle, ah, that lovely miracle! Not grief, but men’s joy Christ visited when he worked his first miracle, he helped men’s joy ... He who loves men, loves their joy . ..’ The dead man used to repeat it all the time, it was one of his main thoughts ... One cannot live without joy, says Mitya ... Yes, Mitya ... All that is true and beautiful is always full of all-forgiveness—that, too, he used to say...”
“. . . Jesus saith unto her, Woman, what have I to do with thee? mine hour is not yet come. His mother saith unto the servants, Whatsoever he saith unto you, do it.”
“Do it ... Joy, the joy of some poor, very poor people ... Why,of course they were poor, if there wasn’t even enough wine for the wedding. Historians write that the people living around the lake of Gennesaret and in all those parts were the poorest people imaginable . . .[234] And the other great heart of the other great being, who was right there, too, his mother, knew that he came down then not just for his great and awful deed, but that his heart was also open to the simple, artless merrymaking of some uncouth, uncouth but guileless beings, who lovingly invited him to their poor marriage feast. ‘Mine hour is not yet come,’ he says with a quiet smile (he must have smiled meekly to her) ... Indeed, was it to increase the wine at poor weddings that he came down to earth? Yet he went and did what she asked ... Ah, he’s reading again.” “... Jesus saith unto them, Fill the waterpots with water. And they filled them up to the brim. And he saith unto them, Draw out now, and hear unto the governor of the feast. And they bare it. When the ruler of the feast had tasted the water that was made wine, and knew not whence it was (but the servants which drew the water knew), the governor of the feast called the bridegroom, and saith unto him, Every man at the beginning doth set forth good wine; and when men have well drunk, then that which is worse: but thou hast kept the good wine until now.”
“But what’s this? What’s this? Why are the walls of the room opening out? Ah, yes ... this is the marriage, the wedding feast ... yes, of course. Here are the guests, here the newlyweds, and the festive crowd, and ... where is the wise ruler of the feast? But who is this? Who? Again the room is opening out ... Who is getting up from the big table? What ... ? Is he here, too? Why, he is in the coffin ... But here, too ... He has gotten up, he’s seen me, he’s coming over ... Lord!”
Yes, to him, to him he came, the little wizened old man with fine wrinkles on his face, joyful and quietly laughing. Now there was no coffin anymore, and he was wearing the same clothes as the day before, when he sat with them and visitors gathered around him. His face was all uncovered and his eyes were radiant. Can it be that he, too, is at the banquet, that he, too, has been called to the marriage in Cana of Galilee ... ?
“I, too, my dear, I, too, have been called, called and chosen,” the quiet voice spoke over him. “Why are you hiding here, out of sight ... ? Come and join us.”
His voice, the elder Zosima’s voice ... How could it be anyone else, since he was calling? The elder raised Alyosha a little with his hand, and Alyosha got up from his knees.
“We are rejoicing,” the little wizened man continued, “we are drinking new wine, the wine of a new and great joy. See how many guests there are? Here are the bridegroom and the bride, here is the wise ruler of the feast, tasting the new wine. Why are you marveling at me? I gave a little onion, and so I am here. And there are many here who only gave an onion, only one little onion ... What are our deeds? And you, quiet one, you, my meek boy, today you, too, were able to give a little onion to a woman who hungered. Begin, my dear, begin, my meek one, to do your work! And do you see our Sun, do you see him?”
“I’m afraid ... I don’t dare to look,” whispered Alyosha.
“Do not be afraid of him. Awful is his greatness before us, terrible is his loftiness, yet he is boundlessly merciful, he became like us out of love, and he is rejoicing with us, transforming water into wine, that the joy of the guests may not end. He is waiting for new guests, he is ceaselessly calling new guests, now and unto ages of ages. See, they are bringing the new wine, the vessels are being brought in...”
Something burned in Alyosha’s heart, something suddenly filled him almost painfully, tears of rapture nearly burst from his soul ... He stretched out his hands, gave a short cry, and woke up . . .
Again the coffin, the open window, and the quiet, solemn, distinct reading of the Gospel. But Alyosha no longer listened to what was being read. Strangely, he had fallen asleep on his knees, but now he was standing, and suddenly, as if torn from his place, with three firm, quick steps, he went up to the coffin. He even brushed Father Paissy with his shoulder without noticing it. The latter raised his eyes from the book for a moment, but looked away again at once, realizing that something strange was happening with the boy. For about half a minute Alyosha gazed at the coffin, at the covered up, motionless dead man stretched out with an icon on his chest and the cowl with an eight-pointed cross on his head. A moment ago he had heard his voice, and this voice was still sounding in his ears. He listened, waiting to hear more ... but suddenly turned abruptly and walked out of the cell.
He did not stop on the porch, either, but went quickly down the steps. Filled with rapture, his soul yearned for freedom, space, vastness. Over him the heavenly dome, full of quiet, shining stars, hung boundlessly. From the zenith to the horizon the still-dim Milky Way stretched its double strand. Night, fresh and quiet, almost unstirring, enveloped the earth. The white towers and golden domes of the church gleamed in the sapphire sky. The luxuriant autumn flowers in the flowerbeds near the house had fallen asleep until morning. The silence of the earth seemed to merge with the silence of the heavens, the mystery of the earth touched the mystery of the stars ... Alyosha stood gazing and suddenly, as if he had been cut down, threw himself to the earth.
He did not know why he was embracing it, he did not try to understand why he longed so irresistibly to kiss it, to kiss all of it, but he was kissing it, weeping, sobbing, and watering it with his tears, and he vowed ecstatically to love it, to love it unto ages of ages. “Water the earth with the tears of your joy, and love those tears ... ,” rang in his soul. What was he weeping for? Oh, in his rapture he wept even for the stars that shone on him from the abyss, and “he was not ashamed of this ecstasy.” It was as if threads from all those innumerable worlds of God all came together in his soul, and it was trembling all over, “touching other worlds.” He wanted to forgive everyone and for everything, and to ask forgiveness, oh, not for himself! but for all and for everything, “as others are asking for me,” rang again in his soul. But with each moment he felt clearly and almost tangibly something as firm and immovable as this heavenly vault descend into his soul. Some sort of idea, as it were, was coming to reign in his mind—now for the whole of his life and unto ages of ages. He fell to the earth a weak youth and rose up a fighter, steadfast for the rest of his life, and he knew it and felt it suddenly, in that very moment of his ecstasy. Never, never in all his life would Alyosha forget that moment. “Someone visited my soul in that hour,” he would say afterwards, with firm belief in his words . . .