To See The Old World Into The Grave: A Review of Martin Vopenka’s My Brother the Messiah (2021, Barbican Press)

The world portrayed in Czech author Martin Vopenka’s My Brother The Messiah is disturbingly familiar: a world ravaged by climate change, where refugees cross vast terrains in search of safe haven, populist despots cling onto power, and birth rates have fallen to shocking lows. Increasingly, it feels like a glimpse at our own not-so-distant future. Amidst this growing unrest is Eli, who is revered by his followers as the Messiah: they trek across Central Europe, spreading his teachings until his young life is cut tragically short. The Followers of Eli are met with fear and resentment even in the years following his death—after all, Eli predicted a world in which children will no longer be born. His mission, as he informed his older brother Marek, was “to see the old world into the grave”. 

It’s worth noting that this disturbing yet gripping book is proof translations are not limited to niche audiences, serving as a challenge of sorts to the minuscule number of translations which are published in the English-language book market each year—indeed, anyone can appreciate it, whether they are familiar with Czech literature or not.

First published in the Czech Republic in 2017, Vopenka’s My Brother the Messiah leaves the reader with many questions: can religious leaders help guide us through the coming climate catastrophe that was set off by corporate greed and our own neglect? What makes a person virtuous when the world around them is anything but? And must those who step up in times of great need sacrifice their identity and own personal needs for the greater good?

During Eli’s short time on Earth, many other young people were taking up arms in guerilla factions against Eduard Bas, otherwise known as Mr. Lifelong, the dictator who ruled over Central Europe. Eli, on the other hand, tried to steer people away from politics, technology, and other things that pollute the mind. He advocated for a return to nature as the old world came to its painful, drawn-out end. Some, like the audacious young Petr, understood that Eli saw the bigger picture and joined him. Yet Eli became increasingly frustrated: many people did not heed his warnings, and he knew that time was not on his side. Meanwhile, his followers believed he should use technology to spread his message far and wide, modeling himself as the second coming of Jesus Christ, which he vehemently opposed. Later on Eli is beaten to death by thugs in Dubrovnik, a hotbed for corrupt elites who have fled the climate disasters in their own countries. 

Marek, his older brother, and the others who were closest to Eli continue to carry on his message more than thirty years later, overseeing the settlement of New Vinohrady in what was formerly Greece. New Vinohrady and other affiliated settlements boast an accomplishment that no other can: they are the only places where children are being born. As time passes, however, Marek and the original Followers of Eli are at odds with how to preserve Eli’s legacy. Petr and Hana—a former prostitute who was once Eli’s lover—are constructing an image of Eli that diverts from historical accuracy in the name of ‘stability’, that is, politics. When Marek tries to object, claiming that Eli wouldn’t have supported this, Petr counters: “Except that he’s dead. And he’s not replaceable. We can’t do what he would have done. If you said the same things he said, you wouldn’t be convincing.”

One day an attractive and mysterious young woman named Natalia joins the settlement and offers not only rehabilitating massages to the elderly Marek but also comfort in his bed. Her touch awakens his senses and offers him a new perspective on life, but many in the settlement are scandalized by their relationship. Hana, despite once having shared a bed with the Messiah himself, believes that as spiritual leaders, they must promote an image of chastity for the Followers of Eli. He struggles between the possibility that Hana and Petr might be right and his desire to protect this young woman who has brought joy into his life.

Meanwhile, representatives from religious institutions seek out Marek to try and understand his brother’s teachings better. They want to know if Eli’s teachings are a rejection of the Holy Scriptures or a continuation of them. As Marek expresses to a full lecture hall, which includes a curious Greek Orthodox priest: “Anyone who has lived or accepted Eli’s teaching, who has glimpsed at least the reflected light of his life, can save the world that mankind cannot bend to its will. I mean this world, which God gave into man’s care but man failed to look after. Eli often talked about this failure of mankind. About man’s unfulfilled duty to be a protector and steward. About the waste of the radiant moment that is life. I don’t know what God is like, how He thinks, how He endures. I only know that He came back.”

These inquiries allow for some moments of humor in a book which otherwise concerns itself with very heavy themes. A large white hover car emblazoned with the Star of David arrives at the settlement of New Vinohrady at one point, with some rabbis from Israel who hope to take a blood sample from Marek to learn whether or not Eli had any Jewish heritage. We learn that Israel is one of the only countries which has endured, but the self-proclaimed chosen people, like most of the world, are faced with the issue of a non-existent birth rate. If they can confirm that Eli was even a little bit Jewish, the self-proclaimed chosen people are ready to accept him as their savior, with the reasoning that Israel will be blessed with fertility, like the Followers of Eli. To their dismay, they rule out any possibility of Eli having been Jewish, and return to Israel defeated. The fact that Marek recounts this story afterward to the delight of one of Eli’s Jewish followers, who has never felt that his Judaism conflicted with Eli’s teachings, only heightens the absurdity of this encounter. Eli’s teachings were never meant to contradict the word of God—they were a means of understanding how to live in the new world. 

Vopenka’s My Brother the Messiah, brilliantly translated by Anna Bryson Gustova and published by Barbican Press earlier this year, offers a thoughtful critique of our dying world, yet it rewards us with a glimmer of hope of the world that can begin anew. 

Reviewed by Kate Tsurkan