Joseph Roth - The Antichrist

It sometimes happens, however, that the hill — and what lies behind it — cannot be evacuated in time. In those cases, the victors storm out from the convenient plain, and the first of them to reach the top wave to those who are still below. Waving generally plays a great role in war. Somebody is always waving to someone else — to victory, to fame or to death. And those who wave apparently know very well that they are setting an example and that their actions will be handed down for posterity. The cause for which they are fighting and waving is a good one. The followers are aware of this, and they do not hesitate.

The sky is blue, the sun is hot and yellow, the dust white. The warriors’ throats are dry, and the spectator thirsts even at the sight of the battle. The various wounds must cause fever and intensify thirst. It makes one want to carry a bucket of fresh water to aid the men who are fulfilling their difficult duty under the fiery sun. One would like to refresh the fighters. It is impossible! There is no spring near by and there are no buckets on hand! The viewer can take comfort in the thought that they will drink when the battle has ended.

As evening comes the battle ends. We know that the sunny part of the day lasts about twelve hours. As soon as the sun sets behind one of the hills at its disposal, the trumpets blow in retreat, even if the battle is not yet decided. The sickle moon climbs slowly over the horizon and reminds one of the curved swords of the enemy. The unharmed lie down to sleep. And the wounded begin to groan.

There is nothing more horrible than the fact that the last war is already becoming the subject of idyllic war paintings. After it has ceased! Particularly in the victorious countries, where the people imagine that they have won the war somewhat in the same fashion as the knights of Christendom once vanquished the heathen. The poison gases seem like neat little clouds whose destructive force is a guarantee of resurrection.

The little cannon spit forth their lovely little flames. The little aeroplanes hum swiftly through the breeze. Touching little field postcards are written by heroes to their sweethearts. Especially beloved is the storming of trenches. Just like the attacks against the Saracens! Occupied hills are stormed with bayonets. These attackers are caught in barbed wire that pierces their entrails. And someone waves! Someone waves! To victory, to fame, to death!

Yet we are still alive. We, the Saracens and the Christians. And we notice how they paint us, our fathers, our younger brothers. They make films about us and paint war pictures to hang on walls, so that our grandchildren will again develop a blood lust. Before our own living eyes they portray our entrails. They are already trivializing our own deaths. They are already making field-marshal hills out of our corpse-hills. Only about ten years later. Ten short years! They are rebuilding so soon! And they are painting! …

But the red that they now employ — and this is our only miserable consolation! — will never take on the peaceful shade of brick. It will be red, red as blood and fire. Our blood, our fire. The colours of today are composed of a different substance than they used to be. Actual blood is mixed into them. And our deaths were the last deaths that may be enveloped in idyllic lies. The deaths of our painters will be different, not to be painted. They will suffocate in their homes, in their studios, with their palettes in their left hands and their brushes in their lying right! …

This, Mighty Master of a Thousand Tongues, is my reflection on battle pictures.

Your obedient servant

J.R.

P.S. Where shall I go now, Mighty Master of a Thousand Tongues?

The Master of a Thousand Tongues sent me to the people who are scattered among all the other peoples of the earth — namely, to the Jews.

It is written that this people will be dispersed among all the peoples of the earth. Thus they have no land of their own. And, if one wishes to seek them out, one does not know where to go. Everywhere we see Jews among us. Where should one go to see only Jews?

The Master of a Thousand Tongues said: ‘Go there, where the Jews live together, tightly packed into villages or small towns.’

So I went to the Jews.

And there I met people who were Jews, that is to say, all the world around them called them Jews. But I saw no difference between them and other people, except in certain traditions of everyday life and of religion.

And I wrote to the Master of a Thousand Tongues the following letter:

Mighty Master of a Thousand Tongues

As I have already had the honour to tell you face to face that I do not feel able to remain in your service, I allow myself now to inform you that I am unable to view the Jews to whom you have dispatched me as a people distinct from the other peoples of this earth.

I repeat to you, Mighty Master of a Thousand Tongues, on this occasion that I am not at all able to distinguish between peoples or send you reports that will make the people to which you belong believe that this people or that is different or remarkable.

I view all the people of the world to be remarkable but also equally average.

I hold that, above all, people are people. And as long as it is not viewed as an obvious truth that throughout the world and in all languages of this earth all people resemble one another much more than they are dissimilar, I think it is a sin to call out the differences between the various peoples instead of their similarities and commonalities.

Certainly there are differences between races and peoples.

These differences are, however, in the first place not as great as the differences between people who belong to the same race or nationality.

Second, they are much less pronounced than the similarities and equalities that unite people with people and race with race, such that I believe I would be doing God Himself an injustice, and therefore committing a mortal sin, if I were to emphasize the peculiarities of any one people instead of its similarities with all other peoples.

For all peoples descend from Adam, into whom God breathed His living breath.

If I were to make distinctions between the Children of Adam, I would therefore be saying that God breathed not one but many different breaths to create different types of peoples.

And, above all, I see in every person the image of God.

Respectfully, your obedient servant

Joseph Roth

And the Master of a Thousand Tongues answered me with the following:

Dear Friend

Do not write to me the things I already know either about yourself or about others.

Observe the Jews for yourself, with your eyes. This is all I ask of you.

Your

Master of a Thousand Tongues

So I began to visit the Jews.

And I saw that above all they were regarded as quite a special people as their womb gave birth to the concept that says the peoples of the earth, the whole earth, are all the Children of God.

Because they were the first to say that all people of all nations are equally the Children of God, it is now said that they, the Jews, see themselves as the special Children of God.

For so it is in this world, where the Antichrist prevails for the moment, that the people who say they want good will be accused of evil.

The ancient Jews said that they were God’s chosen people.

But to what end did they say this?

To the end of bearing the Saviour, Jesus Christ, who died on the cross for all the people of the world.

The arrogance of the Jews was, therefore, in reality humility.

They were not chosen only because — as we know — the redeemer of the world came from their womb, but also because they brought forth the only Son of Man of whom it is not arrogant to be proud. And they humbled themselves and even did penance for what was falsely deemed their arrogance by the fact that it was they themselves who crucified the fruit of their womb.