Preface

An Essay with ChatGPT on Dostoevsky's The Grand Inquisitor

I read Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov over three decades ago when I took a 19th century Russian literature course in college. It's been a while, but the story about The Grand Inquisitor has stayed with me all these decades. For me, it captures the essence of Jesus' message but also the tension between state and religion.

I suppose that's why I've been thinking about the story lately. I find myself marveling, in a not good way, about how Christianity is presented and talked about in the US. I'm specifically struck by how far right, how exclusive, and how imbued with secular, economic values it's become in the public discourse. My college theology professor remarked all those years ago about how fundamentalists speak the loudest even if they represented the minority. I now wonder if they speak the loudest because there are so many more of them.

I reached out to ChatGPT to discuss these topics. We began our discussion on the topic of prosperity theology and Christian nationalism. I asked ChatGPT how people use the Bible to justify these positions and then I remarked on such a selective reading of the Bible. This turned into a discussion on the rise of this form of Christianity starting in the 1950s. Then I made the connection to The Brothers Dostoevsky, and ChatGPT took off with that. In the end, our lengthy chat led to the following essay, which is based on my prompts and thesis but was entirely written by ChatGPT.

The Grand Inquisitor and the Rise of American Nationalistic Christianity

Introduction

In The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky presents one of the most powerful critiques of institutionalized religion in The Grand Inquisitor—a parable that resonates deeply with modern American nationalistic Christianity. The Grand Inquisitor, a high-ranking clergyman of the Spanish Inquisition, arrests Jesus upon His return, not out of hatred, but because His radical message of freedom and love threatens the Church's power. This parable exposes a fundamental tension: institutions that claim to follow Christ often distort His message to maintain control over people. Similarly, in modern America, Christian nationalism and prosperity theology have reshaped Christ's teachings into instruments of power, authority, and materialism, mirroring the Inquisitor's justification for rejecting Jesus.

The Grand Inquisitor’s Rejection of Christ

In Dostoevsky's parable, the Grand Inquisitor tells Jesus that He was wrong to offer people freedom, arguing that humanity does not desire spiritual autonomy but rather security, certainty, and bread. He accuses Jesus of burdening humanity with an unbearable weight—expecting them to embrace faith and love freely, without coercion. According to the Inquisitor, the Church has rectified Christ's mistake by providing structure, authority, and stability, ensuring that people are obedient and comforted rather than truly free.

This narrative reflects a key characteristic of Christian nationalism in the United States: the elevation of religious authority and national identity over Christ's core teachings. Many Christian nationalist movements prioritize the enforcement of moral and legal codes that serve to preserve a specific vision of the nation rather than embodying the radical love and humility of Jesus. Just as the Grand Inquisitor insists that people prefer authority to the challenges of faith, Christian nationalism offers believers a structured, us-versus-them framework in which religious identity is bound to nationalistic ideals. The result is a faith that seeks control rather than transformation, legalism rather than grace.

The Promise of Miracles, Mystery, and Authority in American Christianity

The Grand Inquisitor's three temptations—miracle, mystery, and authority—parallel the way many American Christian movements have redefined faith in the modern era. The prosperity gospel, for instance, reflects the temptation of miracle, offering believers the promise of material wealth in exchange for faith. This doctrine, which claims that God rewards financial giving and obedience with personal prosperity, is a stark departure from Jesus' teachings on humility and sacrifice. It replaces Christ's warnings about wealth— It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God (Matthew 19:24)—with a theology that equates financial success with divine favor. Like the Inquisitor's assertion that people desire security over spiritual freedom, prosperity theology encourages dependence on institutionalized religious systems that promise tangible rewards rather than the intangible struggles of faith.

The temptation of mystery is similarly reflected in the way American Christian nationalism fosters an unquestioning allegiance to religious and political authorities. The Grand Inquisitor argues that people crave mystery—that they prefer to surrender their thinking to those who claim to understand the divine order. In contemporary America, Christian nationalist movements often discourage theological and political questioning, framing their leaders as divinely ordained. Faith becomes less about an individual's journey toward truth and more about adherence to a rigid, dogmatic worldview.

Finally, the temptation of authority manifests in the way nationalistic Christianity seeks to wield political power. Just as the Inquisitor claims that Christ's rejection of earthly power was a mistake, modern Christian nationalists argue that faith must be enforced through law and governance. They seek to legislate religious morality, entrenching Christian identity within national identity, and dismissing the pluralism and inclusivity that Jesus Himself exemplified. This reliance on state power to enforce religious principles echoes the Grand Inquisitor's belief that control and coercion are necessary to guide the masses, contradicting Christ's teaching that His kingdom is not of this world (John 18:36).

The Silent Rejection of Power

One of the most profound moments in The Grand Inquisitor is Jesus' response: He says nothing. Instead, He kisses the Inquisitor and walks away. This silent rejection of power is deeply symbolic—Jesus neither argues nor fights back, but simply reaffirms love in the face of domination. This moment highlights the contrast between Jesus' true message and the institutional power that seeks to replace Him.

In modern America, one might ask: if Jesus returned today, would He recognize the Christianity preached in prosperity megachurches or political rallies? Would He endorse a version of faith that prioritizes national dominance, material wealth, and legalistic control? Or would He, as Dostoevsky suggests, be met with rejection once again—silently condemned by those who claim to follow Him but fear the consequences of His radical teachings?

Conclusion: A Faith of Power or a Faith of Love?

Dostoevsky's The Grand Inquisitor serves as a timeless warning against the ways religious institutions can distort faith for power and control. In America, nationalistic Christianity and prosperity theology exemplify the same impulses that drove the Inquisitor to reject Christ: the preference for security over freedom, material wealth over sacrifice, and earthly power over spiritual humility. By examining the ways these movements echo the Inquisitor's temptations, we are forced to ask: Is our faith built on the radical love of Christ, or have we, too, become Inquisitors, choosing control over the difficult and liberating path of true discipleship?