Ivan Illyich

In Tolstoy's The Death of Ivan Illyich the central character Ivan dies. I know. Big surprise. The book is about Ivan's journey through the dying process: denial, anger, regret, acceptance, etc. Though it may sound like morbid reading, I actually really enjoyed this book this past weekend. It's not long. You can actually read it in a few hours. And though I realize the author's name provokes intimidation for some, this book is very readable (unlike Anna Karenina's endless web of Russian names that I could never keep straight).

Ivan's plight makes me think about how important it is to really listen to one another and to do so in a way that takes others seriously. This is hard all around. It's hard with the people who know me best, it's hard with those I feel are "just like me" and it's especially hard with people who do not think like I do. To me geninue listening implies genuine surrender to another's thoughts, state of being, and contributions (or lack thereof).

Ivan spent the bulk of his adult like living for his job, his social status, and material wealth. His marriage was unhealthy and unhappy. Upon facing "It" (Ivan's term for death), his primary torment was that those closest to him would not acknowledge his true state of being -- he was dying. His family would visit and say such things as, "Everything will be alright." "I'm sure you'll get better." But everyone knew that Ivan's illness was terminal. Ivan's family came to represent to him what he called "the lie" -- he saw in them the same resolve to orient one's life around things that amount to nothing in the end. This caused Ivan to feel degraded "by the very propriety to which he had devoted his entire life." As a result Ivan was utterly tortured inside by bitterness, isolation, fury, regret, and excruciating physical pain.

But here's where it gets really interesting. Ivan's primary torture was that no one understood him because no one would truly listen to him. No one, that is, except for his servant Gerasim -- the only individual in Ivan's world who readily acknowledged that Ivan was dying. As Gerasim served Ivan (as was his job to do), Ivan found great release and peace whenever Gerasim was around because in Gerasim he saw an individual who lived for everything he had not: compassion. And so through Gerasim love invades Ivan's vaccuum of terror as he faces It.

Tolstoy spent a great deal of his life focusing on the death inquiry. When I took Spiritual Formation in seminary, we spent a substantial segment of the course on the dying process in the context of physical death but also in the context of dying to self (i.e. in Jesus' words, "he who loses his life for my sake will find it...."). Oddly enough, this segment of the course was interrupted when I had to move to Florida to care for my mother who had been diagnosed with cancer. She was staring It in the face, and on a lesser level so was I. Late one night we were laughing and talking, and she told me how afraid she felt. I had no words, but I shared her fear. I laid next to her, wrapped my arms around her, and prayed for her. We eventually fell asleep.

Why do I share all this? I don't know. Death is one of those things that people never talk about (unless they or someone close to them faces It), but my observation is that people are on some level hungry to talk about it, while others seek to deny it altogether.

It's ironic to me that even though we are all dying and we all want to be heard and noticed, we don't want to really listen to each other, because listening -- true listening -- requires us to die to ourselves, our thoughts, and suspend our "agenda" while someone else has the spotlight. Listening is more concerned with the individual sharing rather than a calculated response, yet at the same time listening breeds the best of responses because listening doesn't respond to words spoken, it responds to the speaker. There is a difference. A listener not only hears your words but hears you beyond your words.

Perhaps the servant-like, compassionate mentality begins with those willing to listen and notice others, even at the expense of being heard. Perhaps God uses this listening to create a space for others to enter and encounter a love powerful enough to invade the vacuum of fear, anxiety, insecurity, and strife that we all experience. It's really only at this point and in this space that words and truth gain the full force of their power anyway.

I want to be a better listener. That's what I take away from Ivan and Gerasim.

(Just for the record my mother is doing great, is cancer free, and I think everyone close to her appreciates life on a whole new level.)