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24 pages 48 minutes read

Leo Tolstoy

God Sees the Truth, but Waits

Fiction | Short Story | Adult | Published in 1872

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Themes

Forgiveness

The story is first and foremost a parable about forgiveness. Indeed, Aksenov’s inability to forgive Makar forms the central conflict of the story—a conflict that is resolved when Aksenov realizes that only God can forgive.

The centrality of the theme of forgiveness emerges clearly in Aksenov’s interactions with Makar. When Aksenov begins to suspect that Makar was the person who committed the murder for which he was convicted, anger and resentment consume him. As he thinks of all the suffering Makar has caused him, the pious Aksenov longs for vengeance, “even if he himself would perish for it” (121).

When the authorities discover Makar’s attempt to escape the prison by digging a tunnel, Aksenov seriously considers reporting him. Questioned about the tunnel, Aksenov thinks: “Let [Makar] pay for what I’ve suffered” (122). Despite this, he does not report Makar. However, though Aksenov may pity Makar, he is resistant to forgiving him—even when Makar begs for his forgiveness and offers to confess his own guilt to the authorities. At last, however, Aksenov proclaims, “God will forgive you!” (123). With this realization that God alone can offer true forgiveness, Aksenov is unburdened of his anger and can finally find peace.

Aksenov’s realization that God alone can forgive marks the completion of his spiritual journey. It is comparable to the epiphany of the wounded Prince Andrey in Tolstoy’s War and Peace (Volume 3, Part 3, Chapter 32), in which he turns from human to divine love—a love that is unchanging and that extends even to those who have wronged him. Aksenov similarly embraces divine love, learning to pity and even identify with Makar. In fact, Aksenov can only relinquish his anger when he gives up his commitment to the idea that he is somehow different from or better than Makar: As Aksenov says to Makar, “Maybe I’m a hundred times worse than you” (123). With these words, Aksenov accepts that he is just as much of a sinner as Makar in the eyes of God. Because of this, he cannot judge another, and if he cannot judge, he is also in no position to forgive. While Aksenov ultimately does not forgive Makar, his realization that true forgiveness stems from God frees him of his anger, his attachments, and his pain.

Makar, in contrast to Aksenov, remains shackled to the human world. Overcome by guilt, he begs Aksenov for his forgiveness, telling him, “When they flogged me with the knout [a kind of whip] it wasn’t as hard to bear as it is to see you now” (122). With these words, Makar shows that he has not embraced the divine source of forgiveness and love. Nevertheless, it is notable that what produces Makar’s moral turnaround is not punishment and imprisonment but the mercy that Aksenov extends to him; this mercy, though human and therefore limited in scope, emulates God’s mercy on a small scale and contrasts favorably with the human justice system.

Divine Justice Versus Human Judgment

Closely related to the theme of forgiveness is the theme of justice—specifically, the juxtaposition of infallible divine justice and corrupt human judgment. Aksenov, the protagonist, is unjustly convicted of a murder he did not commit and subsequently spends 26 years in a Siberian prison. Tolstoy’s earlier version of the story, recounted by one of the characters in War and Peace, illustrates the idea that human judgment is inevitably unjust. The corollary, which Tolstoy explores at length in the standalone story, is that true justice, like forgiveness, can come only from God.

For Tolstoy, human judgment is not true justice. The judicial system is inherently flawed and corrupt, as it relies on partial information, physical force, and bodily punishment: Unlike God, human authorities do not “see the truth.” The human judicial system completely fails Aksenov: He is arrested and convicted on misleading evidence and punished for a crime he did not commit while the true criminal goes unpunished by those same human authorities. That even the tsar—the supreme judicial authority of Tolstoy’s Russia—denies Aksenov’s petition and unjustly pronounces an innocent man guilty highlights this failure of human judgment.

Moreover, the punishments that the flawed human judicial system metes out are essentially superficial, relying on force and violence. The police officers that arrest Aksenov and the authorities in the Siberian prison represent the threat of bodily harm. When Aksenov learns of Makar’s attempt to escape the prison, Makar asks him not to betray him for fear that the authorities will “flog the life out of [him]” (121). This system functions by instilling fear, which is one reason why it deals with appearances rather than the truth. When the police discover a bloody knife among Aksenov’s things, “his voice was broken, his face pale, and he trembled with fear as though he were guilty” (118). In other words, the human judicial system judges people guilty because they appear guilty—not necessarily because they are guilty.

Divine justice, as Aksenov comes to realize, is the only true justice. This is because (as the story’s title suggests) God—and God alone—sees the truth. At the same time, God also waits: His judgment is not immediate. This underlines another important aspect of true, divine justice, which is eternal rather than temporal. While the judicial system is all too quick to judge based on present evidence, biases, or pressures, God exists outside of time and can dispense justice without flawed judgment. Consequently, true justice—God’s justice—must be sought not in the human, temporal world but in the divine, eternal realm.

The juxtaposition of human judgment and divine justice underpins Aksenov’s transformation over the course of the story. When he is wrongly convicted, Aksenov begins to realize that only God knows the truth, but he does not fully acknowledge the corollary—namely, that God alone can judge. Indeed, Aksenov himself becomes a kind of judge in the prison, acting as arbiter when quarrels arise among the prisoners. He also judges Makar—the person he views as the cause of his unjust sufferings—until the very end of the story. Yet Aksenov glimpses the limitations of human judgment when he reflects that his suspicions about Makar may be incorrect, and when Aksenov declines to report Makar’s attempt to escape to the prison authorities, he explicitly rejects human judgment in favor of divine justice, saying that “[i]t’s not God’s will that [he] should tell” (122). By the end of the story, Aksenov finally realizes that God is the only true source of justice when he tells Makar that God—not he—will forgive him.

Aksenov’s realization that God alone can forgive implicitly accompanied his realization that God is the only true source of justice. Makar, on the other hand, clings to the illusory realm of human judgment when he seeks absolution for his sins by confessing to the earthly authorities. Yet Aksenov’s death represents the final triumph of divine justice: Having completed his spiritual journey, Aksenov departs the corrupt human world to receive true justice in an eternal afterlife.

Family and Earthly Attachments

As Aksenov moves toward a more spiritual conception of eternal, divine forgiveness and justice, he must simultaneously move away from his earthly attachments. The strongest of these attachments—and therefore the most difficult for Aksenov to relinquish—is Aksenov’s connection to his family. Even after Aksenov turns away from earthly and temporal attachments like money and pleasure, he struggles to give up his longing for his family. Through Aksenov’s struggle, Tolstoy explores the earthly, societal, and familial attachments that prevent people from fully devoting themselves to God.

The young Aksenov is a man of earthly attachments. He first appears as a handsome man fond of drinking and singing. He has some wealth, with “two shops and a house of his own” (117). He also has a family—a wife and, as we eventually learn, several children. Though Aksenov seems to take his family somewhat for granted (he casually dismisses his wife’s concerns when he leaves home on business for what turns out to be the final time), he also clearly values his wife and children. Indeed, Aksenov largely gives up drinking when he marries, and he promises to bring back gifts for his wife when he returns from his business trip. Aksenov is also devastated when his wife suspects his guilt, and it is in fact this moment of emotional anguish that leads Aksenov to turn to God.

When Aksenov devotes himself to God and goes to prison, he gives up most of the pleasures of his former life. He no longer drinks or even laughs; his looks fade; he sings only in church. Even in prison, however, Aksenov remembers his family and longs for them. When a new prisoner, Makar, arrives at the prison camp from Aksenov’s hometown, Aksenov anxiously asks after his family. Later, when Aksenov begins to suspect that Makar committed the murder for which he was convicted, longing for his family fuels his anger as memories torment him relentlessly: “First there was the image of his wife as she was when he parted from her to go to the fair […] Then he saw his children, quite little, as they were at that time” (121). When Makar begs Aksenov for his forgiveness, Aksenov immediately thinks of his family, saying to Makar, “It’s easy for you to talk […] My wife is dead, and my children have forgotten me” (122).

Aksenov’s spiritual progression must remain incomplete until he has given up all of his earthly attachments—including his attachment to his family. This is the strongest of Aksenov’s attachments, just as it is for many people. Nevertheless, in Tolstoy’s story, one cannot fully devote oneself to God without turning away even from their family. At the end of the story, Aksenov finds peace when he gives up his longing for his family. Only when we give up all our earthly attachments, Tolstoy suggests, can we attain a higher spiritual state—one that is eternal and divine rather than temporal and earthly.

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