Frigyes Karinthy: Barabbás

Frigyes Karinthy: Barabbás

Karinthy Frigyes

And at dusk on the third day, he stepped out of the narrow door of the shop and quietly made his way down the road. The ruins smoked on either side. Down at the bottom of the dried-up ditch he found the first of those who had shouted the name of Barabbas outside Pilate’s house. With a blackened tongue he howled toward the red clouds.

He stopped before him and said:

– Here I am!

And he looked up at him and began to weep.

– “Rabbi, Rabbi!” he sobbed.

And the master continued gently.

– Don’t cry! Get up and come with me! For I will go back to Jerusalem, to the house of Pilate, and ask for a new law for myself and for you who have chosen Barabbas, and with whom Barabbas has done this.

And the wretched man rose up and took hold of his cloak.

– ‘Master!’ he cried, choking and in tears, ‘O master, I am coming! Tell me how to save myself! Tell me what to do! Tell me what to say!

– ‘Nothing,’ he said gently – ‘only what you should have said three days ago, when Pilate stopped on the porch and asked you, ‘Who then shall I let go of them, Barabbas the murderer or the Nazarene?’

– Oh, I fool! cried he, beating his wretched head with his fist, “Oh, I fool that cried Barabbas! Barabbas, who brought me to this misery!

– ‘Very well,’ continued the master gently, ‘now come with me to Pilate’s house, heed nothing, heed nothing but me, and when I beckon you, cry with all your heart and with all your lungs, “The Nazarene!” as if you were crying, “My life!”

And the man followed Him.

And on the way they find another wretch, whose house, wife, child Barabbas has taken, and his eyes he has plucked out.

And he touched her on the forehead with his hand, and said:

– It is I. Come with me to Jerusalem, and when I touch you with my hand, cry, ‘The Nazarite!’ as if you were crying, ‘My house! My child! The light of my eyes!”

And it cried out and followed Him.

And they found another, whose legs and hands were bound with ropes and tied round his neck, and he himself was pushed face down into a fetid mire by Barabbas, among lice and creepers.

He went up to him and untied his bonds, and said:

– I know thee. Thou wast a poet, who didst proclaim the soul’s rapturous flight: come with me, and when I beckon, cry, “The Nazarene!”; as if thou didst cry, “Freedom! Freedom of soul and thought!” And he kissed his heel, and pleaded with his eyes only, for his mouth was still full of mud.

And so, they went on, and more and more crippled and lame and miserable wretches joined them, whom Barabbas had ruined. And each one separately sobbing, beating his breast, and begging him to beckon when he should cry, “The Nazarite!”; as if to cry, “Peace, peace! Peace on earth!”

And at evening they came to Jerusalem, to Pilate’s house.

Pilate sat on the porch and spent his evening meal with Barabbas the murderer. They sat there fat and shining-faced, drinking heavy wine and eating expensive food from the bottoms of golden pots: their scarlet robes shone far away.

The Nazarene, at the head of the crowd that followed him, came to the porch, and lifting up his crossed hands, began to speak softly:

– The feast of the Passover is not yet past, Pilate! It is law and custom that at Easter you should release one of the condemned, as the people wish. The people desired Barabbas, I was crucified – but I had to return from the dead, for I saw that the people did not know what they were doing. This multitude behind me has known Barabbas and now wants a new law. 

Ask them again, as it is written in our laws.

Pilate thought, and then shrugged his shoulders, and standing on the edge of the porch, looked in amazement at the crowd, and said:

– “Who shall I dismiss now, Barabbas or the Nazarene?

And then he beckoned to them.

And then there was a noise, and like thunder the multitude roared.

And the multitude cried out, “Barabbas!”

And they looked at each other in terror, for each one cried out, “The Nazarene!”

And the Master turned pale and looked at them. And one by one he knew the faces of each of them, but out of these many faces there was one face in the evening gloom, a huge head grinning stupidly and wickedly and insolently in his face, its bloody eyes squinting and its mouth oozing foul juice and its throat roaring hoarsely, “Barabbas!” as if it were shouting, “Death! Death! Death!”

And Pilate, perplexed, lowered his eyes in shame, and said to Him, “You see…”

And He nodded His head, and went up the stairs in silence, and stretched out his hands to the executioner to bind him.

January 1917