It is easy to see how Alexei Karamazov has captured the popular imagination of his native Russia. At twenty years old, he possesses the vigorous frame and handsome Slavic features that were once idealized in Soviet posters and cinema, the strapping young man of the working class -- but in manner and speech, he shows himself to be affable, but also thoughtful and gentle, with the quiet sensitivity of someone whose concerns have long moved beyond earthly things. Warmly he welcomed us into his apartment, shaking our hands, offering us tea from the electric samovar. He spoke at first in English, formal and heavily accented, but laughed with genuine happiness when the translator introduced himself in Russian.
Raised in foster care, a child of the state, in his own words "a child of Russia," he returned to the small town of his birth to visit his mother's grave; on a journey, he said, "to discover the land of his faith." He is known in town for his religious conviction, and his association with the spiritual leader Father Zosima. Now this "child of Russia" is known throughout the country for the fate of the father that abandoned him at four years old.
Many are familiar now with the facts of the case; no matter what our nationality is, we are struck by the sudden presence of violence in so small a town. When Fyodor Karamazov was found bludgeoned to death in his own home -- with Dmitri Karamazov, Alexei's half-brother, the primary suspect -- there soon arose a national uproar. Some were quick to blame the encroachment of capitalism on the Russian way of life. It was rumored that Karamazov had been involved in and profited off the black market for years in spite of Soviet restrictions, and as his biological son, Dmitri felt entitled to a share with which to pay off his own debts. Furthermore, a woman involved had made deals with them both, rousing jealousy. Such a scandal, the media claimed, would never have occurred in a truly communist society.
But for Alexei the tragedy is personal, not political. He believes passionately in the innocence of his brother. "People say he came seeking retribution, but that's not true. He came seeking salvation. He wanted someone to rescue him from the man he had become -- I understand that, I understand the pull of the past, at times like that ... he was a child here, just as I was. He wanted to know this place, to know his father ... it wasn't about money or revenge, it was about salvation ..." We asked Alexei, if he knew his father, during his time there. "I came to know him very well. He had a generous heart with me, though perhaps not with many other people ... it never mattered to me, what he had done in the past, and he knew it didn't matter. I will miss him."
Father Zosima died not a day before Karamazov, also the victim of a violent crime. Father Zosima was known to many as a modern-day apostle -- a symbol, after years of censorship under an atheistic regime, of what compassionate Orthodoxy could be. He gave countless public and private talks throughout his life and was a part of several active charities, so that, in Alexei's words, "the spirit of Christ would not die in Russia." Alexei spoke of him with deep feeling. "I have lost such a treasure in him, but I know I am not the only one. So many of us took him into our hearts, and perhaps if he remains there, perhaps if we can share in our grief and also in our love, because of him ... perhaps that treasure will not be lost after all. Even now we are leaving the age of darkness that killed him, and we take to the future an indefatigable light. I believe in that light, because I have seen it ... that light is our faith, our feeling for each other, for all and everyone ... I believe it, because 'I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living.'"
These last words, the translator explained, were from Psalm 27.
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