It was suggested to me some time ago to tackle Kierkegaard's Fear and Trembling, especially regarding my more recent obsession with Paradox, Irrationality, and the Absurd to find the answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything. I've heard many different things from different people about Kierkegaard, and it has intrigued me even more. And so last night I began.
What I've appreciated so far is the deeply meditative way he has approached a very well-known, and possibly simple, story, that of Abraham and Isaac. And it hits especially home with Believe It Anyway!. I thought I was doing well when I was reading last night and this morning (I felt especially from the 19th century sitting in a park with my coffee and philosophy in the morning freshness--that is, until neighbors started playing disc golf over my head). And then I read the Sparknotes for some contextual help and realized that I have apparently been reading the thing entirely incorrectly.
But that's the point of the man isn't it? Even though he didn't call himself an existentialist, and I would be first inclined not to call him that either, his point is about the experience, right? And so though I wasn't reading at first with half a mind for Hegel and friends, and gleaned my own experience, meditation, and conviction from it, was I reading it incorrectly?
Anyway, like dear Søren, I digress, but simply for rhetorical impact...maybe (but how would you know the difference?). Besides his deeply meditative approach to Abraham's story, I have found myself helped regarding a distinction he makes between the highest faith of Abraham and the lesser faith of infinite resignation. He sees in Abraham a paradox of faithfully trusting our loving God's command (and I don't mean that ironically) to sacrifice his only son, that culmination of God's covenant to make out of Abraham a nation of people more countless than the stars. Kierkegaard then notes that what makes Abraham's faith astonishing is that it is a leap that is un-understandable--what Christ might call "child-like" for it is unassuming, it is humble, it is awe-ful. Others might appear to have a similar faith, but it is one Kierkegaard calls a faith of "infinite resignation." It is a faith that says, "Well, God commands it of me, so even though I hate this and it causes me great sorrow (for how could patricide be joyful), I will go forth and perform my commanded duty." It is the story of a tragic hero. Abraham is not a tragic hero; he is the Father of Israel.
This is astonishing! I thought to myself, how often do I count my resignation to God as faith?
This is so different than the faith that Christ describes and models. I have been convicted. I need to finish reading Fear and Trembling I suppose in order to have a better, fuller reaction to it, but at least this one moment has made it worthwhile, whether or not I hate or love Kierkegaard's approaching ideas. I must pray the centurion's prayer, "I believe, help my unbelief!"
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