The truth is that the head hurts. "Master and Margarita": a hymn to demonism? Or the gospel of selfless faith (part 6)

And then the procurator thought: “Oh, my gods! I ask him about something unnecessary at the trial… My mind doesn’t serve me anymore…” and again he imagined a bowl with a dark liquid. "I'm poisoning me, I'm poisoning!"

The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so badly that you cowardly think about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you to even look at me. And now I am unwittingly your executioner, which saddens me. You can't even think of anything and only dream of your dog coming, the only creature you seem to be attached to. But your torment will now end and your head will pass.

The secretary widened his eyes at the prisoner and did not finish the word.

Pilate raised martyr eyes at the prisoner and saw that the sun was already quite high above the hippodrome, that a ray had penetrated the colonnade and was creeping up to Yeshua's worn-out sandals, that he was shunning the sun.

Here the procurator got up from his chair, clasped his head in his hands, and horror was expressed on his yellowish, shaven face. But he immediately suppressed it with his will and sank back into his chair.

The prisoner, meanwhile, continued his speech, but the secretary did not write down anything else, but only stretched out his neck like a goose, trying not to utter a single word.

Well, it's all over, - said the prisoner, looking benevolently at Pilate, - and I am extremely glad about it. I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk in the surroundings, well, at least on the Mount of Olives. The storm will begin, - the prisoner turned, squinted at the sun, - later, towards evening. A walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would gladly accompany you. Some thoughts have come into my head which I think you might find interesting, and I would gladly share them with you, especially since you seem to be a very intelligent person.

The secretary turned deathly pale and dropped the scroll to the floor.

The trouble is, - continued the unstoppable bound man, - that you have lost faith in people. After all, you must admit, you can’t put all your affection in a dog. Your life is poor, hegemon, - and then the speaker allowed himself to smile.

The secretary now thought of only one thing, whether to believe his ears or not. I had to believe. Then he tried to imagine what kind of bizarre form the anger of the hot-tempered procurator would take at this unheard-of impudence of the arrested person. And the secretary could not imagine this, although he knew the procurator well.

Untie his hands” (chap. 2, the text is highlighted by us in bold when quoting).

As can be seen from this gospel dialogue, which is contrary to the teaching of the churches; as Yeshua showed Pilate with a simple life example:

The phenomenon of Truth-Truth in a society of people is always definite and due to a combination of quite definite circumstances, characteristic of the historical time and place of action. Truth in society is always vitally concrete. Standing outside of life, not specifically defined "truths in general" - does not happen, therefore, it is pointless to look for them, but it is precisely “truth in general” that the majority of those “concerned” with this question are looking for and arguing about it. And some of them insist that it exists in some abstract, incomprehensible form, but not in any way in a certain form of existence of the All in all its many and diversity.

About it - about "truth in general" - Yeshua Pilate asks, and receives a convincing answer, returning him to the certainty that reigns in Everything (in objective reality). And this manifestation of the truth, by its simplicity and routine, makes a shocking impression on both Pilate and his secretary.

Truth-Truth is multifaceted in its manifestations, but there are no two or more mutually exclusive "truths" in the same circumstances. Accordingly, narratives containing two mutually exclusive "truths" on the same subject doom those who encounter them:

either insanity or schizophrenia (split personality and intellect), in case of agreement with them in their entirety,

Or the obligation to give a definite answer to the question "what is truth?" on the issues raised in them, in case of disagreement with them, at least in part.

Of such kind unresolved uncertainties in opinion acquire special urgency and significance in theology, since in it deviations from Truth-Truth are, best case scenario, expression of the immaturity of humanity, and at worst- erected in vain slander against God. And this slander includes not only the doctrine of an endless hell for sinners, but also a false doctrine of the real facts of life and the norms of life of global civilization, peoples, and, finally, personally of each of the people.

"TOWhen Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov wrote a novel about the Master, he hardly imagined that he was creating the most significant work of Russian literature of the 20th century…” This is how one of the interesting publications about the immortal novel begins. The editors of Reader believe that The Master and Margarita is a work whose significance is not limited by time.

Warm-up: It's interesting. Quotes from the novel found on the Internet

· “Excuse me ... Would I allow myself to pour vodka for a lady? It's pure alcohol!"

· “We speak with you in different languages, as always, but the things we talk about do not change from this ...”

· “Unkind lurks in men who avoid wine, games, the company of lovely women, table conversation. Such people are either seriously ill or secretly hate others…”

· "There are no evil people in the world, there are only unhappy people..."

· "These women are difficult people!"

· "A man without a surprise inside, in his box, is uninteresting ..."

· “Everything will be right, the world is built on this!”

· “Yes, man is mortal, but that would be half the trouble. The bad thing is that he sometimes suddenly dies, that's the trick!

· “It's good to hear that you treat the cat so politely. For some reason, cats usually say “you”, although not a single cat has ever drunk brotherhood with anyone!”

· “The unfortunate person is cruel and callous. And all just because good people mutilated him.

· “You judge by the costume? Never do this. You can make a mistake, and, moreover, very big ... "

· “Never ask for anything! Never and nothing, and especially for those who are stronger than you. They themselves will offer and give everything themselves!

· "He who loves must share the fate of the one he loves..."

· “Who told you that there is no true, true, eternal love in the world? May the liar be cut off his vile tongue!”

· "The second freshness - that's nonsense! There is only one freshness - the first, it is also the last. And if the sturgeon is of the second freshness, then this means that it is rotten!”

· "It's easy and pleasant to tell the truth..."

· “Why chase in the footsteps of what is already over?”

· "Dostoevsky is dead..." "I protest, Dostoevsky is immortal!"

· "... a fact is the most stubborn thing in the world!"

· “All theories stand one another. There is also one among them, according to which each will be given according to his faith. May it come true!”

· "Which country's wine do you prefer at this time of day?"

· “My drama is that I live with someone I don’t love, but I consider spoiling his life an unworthy thing ...”

· “Cowardice is one of the most terrible human vices.
— No, I dare to object to you. Cowardice is the worst human vice!”

· “Never be afraid of anything. It's unreasonable..."

· “The most terrible anger is the anger of impotence…”

· “What would your good do if there were no evil, and what would the earth look like if shadows disappeared from it?”

· “Understand that the tongue can hide the truth, but the eyes never!”

· “People are like people. They love money, but it has always been... Mankind loves money, no matter what it is made of, whether it is leather, paper, bronze or gold. Well, they are frivolous ... well, well ... and mercy sometimes knocks on their hearts ... ordinary people ... in general, they resemble the former ones ... The housing problem only spoiled them ... "

· “No matter what the pessimists say, the earth is still absolutely beautiful, and under the moon it is simply unique ...”

And one more, as we see it, the main one ...

To these 29, we should add one more, which we (the editors of Reader) see as the most important. It echoes the Bible, is placed in the title of the article and is taken from the episode in which the question of Truth is raised in the conversation between Yeshua and Pontius Pilate.

What is Truth? Background of the question

Since ancient times, man has been thinking about what is truth, and does it exist at all? Why is life given to man and what is its meaning? These are the eternal questions of philosophy. Some people believe that truth is in knowledge, others in faith. There are those who claim that the truth is in the feelings of people. And each of them will be right in their own way. There is no clear definition of what truth is. Each person in his own way transforms this rather abstract concept.

Essence of Yeshua's answer to his tormentor

Always, at all times, people have been looking for truth in complex and sublime things. Against this background, the simplicity with which this concept is revealed by Bulgakov is especially striking. Yeshua's conversation with Pontius Pilate gives a very simple answer to such a complex question. To the procurator's question, "What is truth?" Yeshua says: “The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so badly that you cowardly think about death. ... You can't even think of anything and only dream of your dog coming, the only creature you seem to be attached to.” Here it is, the truth of Yeshua does not seek it in lofty words and feelings, but sees it in simple and, at first glance, ordinary things. It is simply necessary for him to live a true life, this is the only state possible for him.
Creating this image, Bulgakov showed that kindness, and mercy, and love for people are a consequence of true life, a consequence of honesty with others and with oneself.

What is the truth, according to Bulgakov?

The novel deserved its immortality precisely because it gives Bulgakov's interpretation of truth: "-... What is truth?" … “- The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts…” Yeshua, beaten by order of Pilate, sees the truth in perceiving the pain of his executioner before his own. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” the Bible calls. “Love your neighbor more than yourself,” Bulgakov calls.

Finally

«… All theories stand one another, Woland believes. But… - “There is one among them, according to which everyone will be given according to his faith. May it come true!”

He looked with dull eyes at the prisoner and was silent for some time, painfully remembering why, in the merciless morning sun of Yershalaim, the prisoner was standing in front of him with a face disfigured by beatings, and what other useless questions he would have to ask.

“Yes, Matvey Levi,” came a high voice that tormented him.

- But what did you say about the temple to the crowd at the market?

– I, hegemon, said that the temple of the old faith would collapse and a new temple of truth would be created. I said it so it would be clearer.

- Why did you, vagabond, embarrass the people in the market, telling about the truth, about which you have no idea? What is truth?

And then the procurator thought: “Oh, my gods! I ask him about something unnecessary at the trial ... My mind does not serve me anymore ... ”And again he imagined a bowl with a dark liquid. "I'm poisoning me, I'm poisoning!"

- The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so badly that you cowardly think about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you to even look at me. And now I am unwittingly your executioner, which saddens me. You can't even think of anything and only dream of your dog coming, apparently the only creature to which you are attached. But your torment will now end, your head will pass.

The secretary widened his eyes at the prisoner and did not finish the word.

The prisoner, meanwhile, continued his speech, but the secretary did not write down anything else, but only, stretching his neck like a goose, tried not to utter a single word.

“Well, it's all over,” said the prisoner, looking benevolently at Pilate, “and I'm extremely glad about that. I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in the vicinity, well, at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. The storm will begin,” the prisoner turned, squinted at the sun, “later, toward evening. A walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would gladly accompany you. Some new thoughts have occurred to me which I think you might find interesting, and I would gladly share them with you, the more so as you give the impression of a very intelligent person.

The secretary turned deathly pale and dropped the scroll to the floor.

“The trouble is,” continued the unstoppable bound man, “that you are too closed off and have finally lost faith in people. After all, you must admit, you can’t put all your affection in a dog. Your life is poor, hegemon, - and here the speaker allowed himself to smile.

- Untie his hands.

One of the escort legionnaires rapped his spear, handed it to another, approached and removed the ropes from the prisoner. The secretary held up the scroll, decided not to write anything down for the time being, and not to be surprised at anything.

“Confess,” Pilate asked quietly in Greek, “are you a great doctor?”

“No, procurator, I am not a doctor,” the prisoner answered, rubbing his crumpled and swollen crimson hand with pleasure.

Steeply, from under his brows, Pilate bored into the eyes of the prisoner, and in these eyes there was no longer turbidity, familiar sparks appeared in them.

“I didn’t ask you,” Pilate said, “perhaps you also know Latin?”

“Yes, I know,” the prisoner replied.

The color came out on the yellowish cheeks of Pilate, and he asked in Latin:

How did you know that I wanted to call the dog?

“It’s very simple,” the prisoner answered in Latin, “you moved your hand through the air,” the prisoner repeated Pilate’s gesture, “as if he wanted to stroke, and lips ...

“Yes,” said Pilate.

There was a pause, then Pilate asked a question in Greek:

So, are you a doctor?

“No, no,” the prisoner answered briskly, “believe me, I'm not a doctor.

- OK then. If you want to keep it a secret, keep it. This has nothing to do with the case. So you're saying you didn't call for the temple to be destroyed... or set on fire or otherwise destroyed in any way?

– I, hegemon, did not call anyone to such actions, I repeat. Do I look like an idiot?

“Oh, yes, you don’t look like an idiot,” the procurator replied quietly and smiled with some kind of terrible smile, “so swear that it didn’t happen.”

“What do you want me to swear by?” – he asked, very animated, untied.

“Well, at least by your life,” answered the procurator, “it’s time to swear by it, since it hangs by a thread, know that!”

“Don’t you think you hung her up, hegemon?” – asked the prisoner, – if so, you are very mistaken.

Pilate shuddered and answered through his teeth:

I can cut this hair.

“And in this you are mistaken,” the prisoner objected, smiling brightly and shielding himself from the sun with his hand, “accept that only the one who hung it up can probably cut the hair?”

- Levi Matthew? the patient asked in a hoarse voice and closed his eyes.
“Yes, Levi Matvey,” came a high voice that tormented him.
- But what did you say about the temple to the crowd at the market?
The voice of the answerer seemed to prick Pilate in the temple, was inexpressibly
painful, and this voice said:
- I, hegemon, said that the temple of the old faith would collapse and
new temple of truth. I said it so it would be clearer.
- Why did you, tramp, embarrass the people in the market, talking about
a truth about which you have no idea? What is truth?
And then the procurator thought: "Oh, my gods! I'm asking him about something
unnecessary in court ... My mind does not serve me anymore ... "And again he imagined
bowl with dark liquid. "Poison me, poison!"
And again he heard the voice:
“The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so
it is strong that you cowardly think about death. Not only are you unable
talk to me, but it's hard for you to even look at me. And now I involuntarily
I am your executioner, which makes me sad. You can't even think about
anything and only dream of your dog coming, the only thing
presumably the being you are attached to. But now your suffering
run out, the head will pass.
The secretary widened his eyes at the prisoner and did not finish the word.
Pilate raised martyr eyes to the prisoner and saw that the sun was already
high enough above the hippodrome that the beam made its way into the colonnade and
creeps up to the worn-out sandals of Yeshua, that he keeps away from the sun.
Here the procurator got up from his chair, clasped his head in his hands, and on a yellowish
his shaved face showed horror. But he immediately crushed it with his will and
sank back into the chair.
Meanwhile, the prisoner continued his speech, but the secretary did nothing more.
did not write down, but only, stretching out his neck like a goose, tried not to utter a single
one word.
"Well, it's all over," said the prisoner, benevolently
looking at Pilate - and I am extremely glad of this. I would advise you
hegemon, leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in
surroundings, well, at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. The storm will begin
the prisoner turned and squinted at the sun—later, toward evening. Walk
would be of great benefit to you, and I would gladly accompany you.
Some new thoughts came to my mind that might, I suppose,
seem interesting to you, and I would gladly share them with you, especially
that you give the impression of a very intelligent person.
The secretary turned deathly pale and dropped the scroll to the floor.
“The trouble is,” continued the unstoppable bound man, “that
you are too closed and completely lost faith in people.

MASTER and MARGARITA (excerpt)

- Call the Roman procurator - hegemon. Do not say any other words. Stand still. Do you understand me or hit you? The arrested man staggered, but controlled himself, the color returned, he took a breath and answered hoarsely: - I understood you. Do not hit me. A minute later he was again standing in front of the procurator. A dull sick voice sounded: "Name?" -- My? the arrested man hastily responded, expressing with his whole being his readiness to answer sensibly, not to arouse more anger. The procurator said in a low voice: "I know mine." Don't pretend to be more stupid than you are. Your. “Yeshua,” the prisoner hastily answered. - Is there a nickname? - Ga-Notsri. -- Where you're from? “From the city of Gamala,” the prisoner replied, pointing with his head that there, somewhere far away, to his right, in the north, there is the city of Gamala. - Who are you by blood? “I don’t know for sure,” the prisoner replied briskly, “I don’t remember my parents. I was told that my father was a Syrian... - Where do you live permanently? “I don’t have a permanent home,” the prisoner replied shyly, “I travel from city to city. “It can be expressed in a shorter way, in one word—a vagabond,” said the procurator, and asked: “Do you have any relatives?” - There is no one. I am alone in the world. - Do you know how to spell? -- Yes. "Do you know any language besides Aramaic?" -- I know. Greek. The swollen eyelid lifted, the eye veiled in a haze of suffering stared at the prisoner. The other eye remained closed. Pilate spoke in Greek: “So you were going to destroy the building of the temple and called on the people to do so?” Here the prisoner perked up again, his eyes ceased to express fear, and he spoke in Greek: - I, dob ... - here horror flashed in the eyes of the prisoner because he almost misspoke, - I, hegemon, never life was not going to destroy the building of the temple and did not incite anyone to this senseless action. Surprise showed on the face of the secretary, hunched over a low table and taking down his testimony. He raised his head, but immediately bowed it again to the parchment. “A lot of different people flock to this city for the holiday. There are magicians, astrologers, soothsayers and murderers among them,” the procurator said in a monotone, “but there are also liars. For example, you are a liar. It is written clearly: he incited to destroy the temple. This is what people testify. “These good people,” the prisoner began, and, hastily adding: “hegemon,” he continued: “they didn’t learn anything and they mixed up everything that I said. In general, I begin to fear that this confusion will continue for a very long time. And all because he incorrectly writes down after me. There was silence. Now both diseased eyes looked hard at the prisoner. “I repeat to you, but for the last time: stop pretending to be mad, robber,” Pilate said softly and monotonously, “not much is written down for you, but it is enough written down to hang you. “No, no, hegemon,” the prisoner began, straining to convince, “he walks and walks alone with goatskin parchment and writes incessantly. But once I looked into this parchment and was horrified. Absolutely nothing of what is written there, I did not say. I begged him: burn your parchment for God's sake! But he snatched it from me and ran away. -- Who it? asked Pilate disgustedly and touched his temple with his hand. “Matthew Levi,” the prisoner readily explained, “he was a tax collector, and I met him for the first time on the road to Bethphage, where the fig garden comes out at the corner, and got into conversation with him. Initially, he treated me with hostility and even insulted me, that is, he thought that he was insulting me by calling me a dog, - then the prisoner grinned, - I personally don’t see anything wrong in this beast to be offended by this word ... The secretary stopped to write down and surreptitiously threw a surprised look, but not at the arrested person, but at the procurator. “...however, after listening to me, he began to soften,” continued Yeshua, “finally threw money on the road and said that he would go traveling with me... Pilate grinned with one cheek, baring his yellow teeth, and said, turning whole body to the secretary: - Oh, the city of Yershalaim! What can you not hear in it. Tax collector, you hear, threw money on the road! Not knowing how to answer this, the secretary found it necessary to repeat Pilate's smile. “But he said that from now on he hated money,” Yeshua explained the strange actions of Levi Matthew and added: “And since then he has become my companion. Still grinning, the procurator looked at the arrested man, then at the sun steadily rising above the equestrian statues of the hippodrome, which lay far below to the right, and suddenly, in some kind of nauseating torment, he thought that it would be easiest to drive this strange robber from the balcony, uttering only two words: "Hang him." Expel the convoy as well, leave the colonnade inside the palace, order the room to be darkened, lie down on the couch, demand cold water, call Bang's dog in a plaintive voice, complain to her about hemicrania. And the thought of poison suddenly flashed seductively into the procurator's sick head. He looked with dull eyes at the prisoner and was silent for some time, painfully remembering why, in the merciless morning sun of Yershalaim, the prisoner was standing in front of him with a face disfigured by beatings, and what other useless questions he would have to ask. - Levi Matthew? the patient asked in a hoarse voice and closed his eyes. “Yes, Levi Matvey,” came a high voice that tormented him. - But what did you say about the temple to the crowd at the market? The voice of the answerer seemed to stab Pilate in the temple, was inexpressibly painful, and this voice said: “I, hegemon, spoke about the collapse of the temple of the old faith and the creation of a new temple of truth.” I said it so it would be clearer. - Why did you, vagabond, embarrass the people in the market, telling about the truth, about which you have no idea? What is truth? And then the procurator thought: "Oh, my gods! I'm asking him about something unnecessary at the trial ... My mind does not serve me anymore ..." And again he imagined a bowl with a dark liquid. "Poison me, poison!" And again he heard a voice: “The truth is, first of all, that your head hurts, and it hurts so badly that you cowardly think about death. Not only are you unable to speak to me, but it is difficult for you to even look at me. And now I am unwittingly your executioner, which saddens me. You can't even think of anything and only dream of your dog coming, apparently the only creature to which you are attached. But your torment will now end, your head will pass. The secretary widened his eyes at the prisoner and did not finish the word. Pilate raised martyr eyes at the prisoner and saw that the sun was already quite high above the hippodrome, that a ray had penetrated the colonnade and was creeping up to Yeshua's worn-out sandals, that he was shunning the sun. Here the procurator got up from his chair, clasped his head in his hands, and horror was expressed on his yellowish, shaven face. But he immediately suppressed it with his will and sank back into his chair. The prisoner, meanwhile, continued his speech, but the secretary did not write down anything else, but only, stretching his neck like a goose, tried not to utter a single word. “Well, it’s all over,” said the prisoner, looking benevolently at Pilate, “and I’m extremely glad about it. I would advise you, hegemon, to leave the palace for a while and take a walk somewhere in the vicinity, well, at least in the gardens on the Mount of Olives. A thunderstorm will begin, - the prisoner turned, squinted at the sun, - later, towards evening. A walk would be of great benefit to you, and I would gladly accompany you. Some new thoughts have occurred to me which I think you might find interesting, and I would gladly share them with you, the more so as you give the impression of a very intelligent person. The secretary turned deathly pale and dropped the scroll to the floor. “The trouble is,” continued the unstoppable bound man, “that you are too reserved and have finally lost faith in people. After all, you must admit, you can’t put all your affection in a dog. Your life is poor, hegemon, - and here the speaker allowed himself to smile. The secretary now thought of only one thing, whether to believe his ears or not. I had to believe. Then he tried to imagine what kind of bizarre form the anger of the hot-tempered procurator would take at this unheard-of impudence of the arrested person. And the secretary could not imagine this, although he knew the procurator well. Then came the broken, hoarse voice of the procurator, who said in Latin: "Untie his hands." One of the escort legionnaires rapped his spear, handed it to another, approached and removed the ropes from the prisoner. The secretary held up the scroll, decided not to write anything down for the time being, and not to be surprised at anything. “Confess,” Pilate asked softly in Greek, “are you a great doctor?” "No, procurator, I'm not a doctor," answered the prisoner, rubbing his crumpled and swollen crimson hand with pleasure. Steeply, from under his brows, Pilate bored into the eyes of the prisoner, and in these eyes there was no longer turbidity, familiar sparks appeared in them. “I didn’t ask you,” Pilate said, “perhaps you also know Latin?” “Yes, I know,” replied the prisoner. A blush appeared on Pilate's yellowish cheeks, and he asked in Latin: "How did you know that I wanted to call the dog?" - It's very simple, - the prisoner answered in Latin, - you moved your hand through the air, - the prisoner repeated Pilate's gesture, - as if he wanted to stroke his lips... - Yes, - said Pilate. There was a pause, then Pilate asked a question in Greek: “So, are you a doctor?” "No, no," the prisoner answered briskly, "believe me, I'm not a doctor." -- OK then. If you want to keep it a secret, keep it. This has nothing to do with the case. So you're saying you didn't call for the temple to be destroyed... or set on fire or otherwise destroyed in any way? - I, hegemon, did not call anyone to such actions, I repeat. Do I look like an idiot? "Oh, yes, you don't look like an idiot," the procurator answered quietly and smiled with a kind of terrible smile, "so swear that it didn't happen." "What do you want me to swear to?" - He asked, very animated, untied. “Well, at least by your life,” answered the procurator, “the time is right to swear by it, since it hangs by a thread, know that!” "Don't you think you hung her up, hegemon?" - asked the prisoner, - if so, you are very mistaken. Pilate shuddered and answered through his teeth: - I can cut this hair. “And in this you are mistaken,” the prisoner objected, smiling brightly and shielding himself from the sun with his hand, “accept that only the one who hung it up can probably cut the hair?” “So, so,” Pilate said with a smile, “now I have no doubt that idle onlookers in Yershalaim followed you on your heels. I don't know who hung your tongue, but it is hung well. By the way, tell me: is it true that you came to Yershalaim through the Susa gate on a donkey, accompanied by a crowd of mob, shouting greetings to you as if to some kind of prophet? Here the procurator pointed to a roll of parchment. The prisoner looked at the procurator in bewilderment. “I don’t even have a donkey, hegemon,” he said. - I came to Yershalaim exactly through the Susa Gate, but on foot, accompanied by one Levi Matthew, and no one shouted anything at me, since no one knew me then in Yershalaim. “Don’t you know such people,” continued Pilate, not taking his eyes off the prisoner, “a certain Dismas, another Gestas, and a third Bar-Rabban?” "I don't know these good people," replied the prisoner. -- Is it true? -- Is it true. "Now tell me, why are you always using the words 'good people'?" Is that what you call everyone? “All of them,” answered the prisoner, “there are no evil people in the world.