Good Friday

Good Friday marks the Christian commemoration of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ, and in Tolstoy's Resurrection it functions as the charged temporal backdrop for the decisive turning point in the relationship between Dmitri Ivanovitch Nekhludoff and Katerina Maslova. The day is not merely a calendar date but a sacred interval that heightens the moral stakes of every action taken within it, creating a stark contrast between the rituals of redemption and the acts of betrayal that unfold under their cover.

The Arrival and the Thaw

Nekhludoff arrives at his aunts' estate on Good Friday, at the end of March, after the spring thaw has set in. He is soaked through from the pouring rain but feels vigorous and full of spirits. The courtyard is filled with snow off the roofs, and two barefooted women with tucked-up skirts are scrubbing floors. His aunt Sophia Ivanovna meets him in the ante-room, dressed in silk and a cap, and tells him that her sister Mary Ivanovna is unwell after having been to church to receive communion. Nekhludoff congratulates her on having received the sacrament, and she immediately calls out for Katusha to bring him coffee. The sound of her voice — "Directly" — makes his heart cry out "She's here!" and it feels as if the sun has come out from behind the clouds.

The Renewed Attraction

When Katusha brings him soap and towels, Nekhludoff sees that she is the same as before, only sweeter, with the same slightly squinting naive black eyes and the same white apron. The irrepressible smile of joy at the sight of him makes her sweet, firm lips pucker up as of old. He had planned to stay only a day and a night, but after seeing her he agrees to stay over Easter and telegraphs his friend Schonbock to meet him at his aunts' instead. His old feelings toward her awake again: he cannot see her white apron without getting excited, cannot listen to her steps or her laugh without a feeling of joy, and cannot look at her black eyes without tenderness. Yet this time his love is different from the pure, unconscious love of three years before. Now he knows he is in love and is glad of it, but dimly knows what this love consists of and what it might lead to, though he seeks to conceal it even from himself. The animal man in him, which had ruled supreme during his life in Petersburg and the army, now struggles with the spiritual man that raises its head once more.

The Easter Eve Mass

On Easter eve, the priest and deacon come to the house to say mass, having had the greatest difficulty getting over the three miles of puddles and bare earth in a sledge. Nekhludoff attends the mass with his aunts and the servants, keeping his eyes on Katusha, who stands near the door and brings in the censers. Later, instead of going to bed, he saddles the old horse and rides through the dark, over puddles and snow, to the church for the early mass. The church is full of people: peasants in home-spun coats and clean white linen bands, women in red silk kerchiefs and black velveteen sleeveless jackets, gaily-dressed children with well-oiled hair. The gilt case containing the icon glitters, illuminated by tall candles, and the choir sings merry tunes. Katusha stands in a white dress with a tucked bodice, blue sash, and red bow in her black hair, her eyes beaming with rapture. Nekhludoff knows that she feels his presence without looking at him. When he whispers something to her as he passes, the young blood rushes up to her sweet face, and her black eyes, laughing and full of joy, gaze naively up at him. For him, everything in the world exists only for her: the gold glittering round the icons, the candles alight, the joyful hymns. He feels that what is singing in his own soul is also singing in hers.

The Kiss and the Fall

After the mass, on the church steps, Katusha distributes alms to beggars, kissing a scab-faced beggar three times without disgust, her eyes shining with joy. When she and Nekhludoff exchange the Easter kiss, they kiss twice, pause as if considering whether a third kiss is necessary, and then kiss a third time and smile. Nekhludoff later recalls this moment as the zenith of their love — unconscious, unreasoning, with nothing sensual about it. But that same evening, when Katusha comes to his room to call him to dinner, he puts his arm round her waist. She blushes to tears and pushes his arm away, saying "Don't, Dmitri Ivanovitch, you must not." He feels confused and ashamed, but instead of listening to his better feelings, he catches her up and kisses her on the neck — a dreadful kiss, very different from the first thoughtless kiss behind the lilac bush and the kiss that morning in the churchyard. She feels that he has irreparably broken something of priceless value, and runs away. The animal man has now completely trampled under foot the spiritual man.

The Night and Its Consequences

That night, Nekhludoff goes out into the porch. It is dark, damp, and warm, with a white spring mist filling the air. From the river comes the strange sound of ice breaking — sobbing, cracking, dropping, being shattered to pieces, mixed with the tinkling of thin bits of ice breaking against each other like glass. He stands looking at Katusha through the window, seeing her serious, suffering face that betrays the inner struggle of her soul. He feels pity for her, but this pity only confirms him in his evil intention. He knocks at the window; she starts as if she had received an electric shock, her whole body trembling, a look of horror on her face. She comes to the window, and he beckons her to come out. She shakes her head, but eventually she comes, and he puts his arms round her without saying a word. She clings to him and meets his kiss with her lips. The next day, when he leaves, he gives her a 100-rouble note, thrusting it into the bib of her apron. He groans and frowns as if he has hurt himself, and for a long time he paces up and down, writhing as in pain. He tries to console himself by thinking that everyone does the same, but the recollection burns his conscience. He knows he has acted in a base, cruel, cowardly manner, and the only way to go on living boldly and merrily is not to think about it. He succeeds in doing so, and forgets her completely for nine years — until the day he sees her in the prisoners' dock.

The Sacred and the Profane

The Good Friday and Easter sequence in Resurrection enacts a profound desecration of sacred time. The rituals of communion, the Easter kiss, the hymns of resurrection — all are present, but they serve not to redeem but to heighten the horror of what follows. Nekhludoff's spiritual awakening on the night after the trial, when he prays and feels the God within him awaken, is a direct echo of this earlier Easter: the same possibility of grace is offered, but now he chooses to accept it. The sacred time of Good Friday and Easter thus becomes the measure of his fall and the promise of his eventual resurrection.