One of the books I read in a fiction class in college was called Continental Short Stories. If you're a fledgling short story writer, I highly recommend acquiring short story anthologies as a way of getting introduced to new writers. (The same goes for readers, naturally.) In this volume you'll find Sarte, Kafka, Borges, Camus, Aichinger, Boll and many others including my first encounter with Pär Lagerkvist in a story called "Saviour John."
Barabbas was published in 1950. The following year Lagerkvist received his Nobel Prize in Literature. The book explores faith, doubt, guilt, and the search for meaning through the eyes of the man who was released instead of Jesus.
What strikes me about Lagerkvist's writing was the clarity of his prose--spare, direct, and unadorned, yet filled with gravitas. He's not focused on literary acrobatics. Rather, his aim is the quiet exploration of extraordinary themes.
The novel begins with the familiar biblical scene. Barabbas, a murderer and insurrectionist, watches as the crowd chooses his freedom and Christ's crucifixion. Although he is physically liberated, he becomes psychologically imprisoned by the event. Why was he spared? Who was this man who died in his place? And why do others believe He rose from the dead?
What a starting point. Everything flows out from this momentous event.
Unable either to believe or to forget, Barabbas drifts through life as an outsider. He witnesses the early Christian movement but remains skeptical. He meets followers of Christ whose certainty only deepens his own uncertainty. He longs to believe but finds himself incapable of faith.
Throughout the novel, Lagerkvist presents Barabbas as a man haunted by absence. He is neither a committed pagan nor a Christian, but someone suspended between belief and unbelief. His encounters with suffering, love, violence, and death never resolve his inner conflict. Instead, they intensify it.
Eventually Barabbas is taken to Rome as a slave, where he works in the mines alongside Christian prisoners. There he develops a deep friendship with Sahak, a simple but unwavering believer. Their contrasting responses to suffering become the emotional center of the novel. Sahak possesses a certainty Barabbas envies but cannot attain.
After Sahak's execution, Barabbas continues wandering through a world that seems both empty and mysteriously charged with divine possibility. During Nero's persecution of Christians, he is arrested and crucified alongside them—not because he fully understands or embraces their faith, but because he has come to identify himself with the One who died in his place.
The story ends ambiguously. Rather than presenting faith as easy certainty, Lagerkvist explores the possibility that some people spend their entire lives circling belief, haunted by grace yet unable to grasp it fully. The novel asks whether doubt itself may be a form of seeking—and whether redemption can reach even those who never find complete certainty.
The novel is also about identity, for as John Donne wrote:
No man is a island
Entire of itself
Every man is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
In this sense, the story of Barabbas intersects with our story as well. Barabbas is not merely a man from the first century. He is every person who has wanted to believe but struggled to do so, every seeker caught between skepticism and hope, every wanderer haunted by the possibility that grace might be real.
The genius of Lagerkvist's novel is that it transforms an obscure biblical figure into Everyman—a soul searching for meaning in a world where faith and uncertainty walk side by side, where doubt is not always the enemy of belief but sometimes the road that leads us toward it.
