Few novels get a successful reprint half a century following their initial publication. But in the case of Mohamed Kamel Hussein’s “An Unjust Village (Qarya Zalema), several factors demanded a new publication of this historical fiction which deals with the last days of Jesus and how Jerusalem spelled out his fate.
In stark contrast to recent novels treading the increasingly contentious religio-historical grounds, this particular work of fiction seems to defy the norm and is regarded favorably by religious readers.
The novel’s late author was quite a character. “Village won the 1957 Egyptian National Prize for Literature, but it was only one of many other trophies Hussein raked. Also a leading surgeon, he went on to win the National Prize again nine years later, this time for medicine.
His reprinted masterpiece deals with a heavy philosophical theme: the death of conscience. Central to the work is the idea that while one man may have a clear conscience, a community of men simply may never have one.
“The message of Jesus was simply that people appoint their conscience as judge to everything they do. So when they decided to crucify him, their decision was to kill the human conscience, to put out its light. They thought that the resolution of their intellect and religion is superior to that of their conscience, but they didn’t recognize that when people silence their conscience, they will never find a substitute for it, Hussein writes.
Adopting a writing style reminiscent of Plato’s “Dialogues, “Village delves into how the three major parties concerned with the crucifixion of Jesus dealt with his doomed trial: The Jewish clergymen, the disciples, and the Roman rulers all had immense interest in him, each group perceiving him from an entirely different perspective. According to Hussein, the group psychology of each camp didn’t help them clear their conscience, having one way or another contributed to Jesus’ death.
Hussein revives characters from these three factions, but his characterization is clearly overshadowed by the philosophical discourse. Their arguments, however, are what make this novel a gripping read. Spelled out in remarkable clarity, their thoughts are more than adequately expressed by Hussein, marked by tremendous depth and width of scope.
What makes these characters not so believable, however, is their intellectual idealism. Their thoughts are simply too perfect. All the characters are overtly rational, too rational in fact. Not a single character speaks without philosophizing, not a single one exhibits narrow-mindedness or an unjustified beliefs.
Furthermore, the way Hussein analyzes the Jews, Romans, and Jesus’ followers psychologically is also outdated, relying heavily on Freudian psychoanalysis.
With their clinging to material glory, the Romans represent Freud’s concept of the id – the impulsive, pleasure-driven part of the psyche that only takes into account what it wants with little regard to consequences. The disciples resemble the super-ego with their belief in the perfection of love and conclusion that no actions should be taken to help save Jesus if it entails the use of violence. The Jewish religious leadership ultimately prefers to disregard Jesus’ teachings in fear of the possible disunion it might elicit in the Jewish community and subsequent weakening of their position in the face of the Roman occupation. They represent the ego which seeks to fulfill the id’s drive realistically, doing more benefit in the long term.
The best and at once most unconvincing part of the book is the ending in which Hussein satisfies both Muslim and Christian viewpoints and tops it off with a moral message. While Christians believe that Jesus was crucified before rising from the dead, Muslims believe that his betrayer, Judas, was the one put on the cross instead of him. Hussein’s ending doesn’t broach this grey area, preferring not to disclose whether Jesus was indeed crucified or not, thereby pleasing both parties who maintain different versions of the story.
This open ending is wise in that it concentrates on what the two faiths have in common, choosing to ignore the historical conflict. But in inserting a moral lesson to be learned from this historical ambiguity, the ending is not wholeheartedly convincing.
In the afternoon of what Christians call Good Friday, darkness shrouds the earth for three hours, accompanied by a violent thunderstorm. This, and not Jesus’ crucifixion or narrow escape, is what Hussein chooses as the final stage of his story. From there he starts to contemplate the gravity of the day’s events through a conversation between a Magi wise man and a Greek philosopher. The Magi, with his belief in the supernatural, interprets what has just happened differently from the way the Greek naturalist sees it.
The Magi wins the long and stimulating argument and he goes to speak his distilled wisdom to the disciples of Jesus, hoping that this will help them spread the message faithfully.
This engaging philosophical account of the human conscience may seem a little too preachy to some, but what makes it exceptional is that although it employs a highly religious historical setting, its message doesn’t rely on religious truths. On the contrary, this novel is a rare Arabic-language novel advocating a decidedly humanist perspective on the predicaments of good and evil.
