Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard

“Much is said in our age about irony and humor, especially by those who have never been capable of engaging in the practice of these arts, but who nevertheless know how to explain everything.”

I think it’s safe to say that I was not prepared for this book. I was drawn in by the premise—Kierkegaard, one of the fathers of existentialism, writing a treatise on faith, using the story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice his son Isaac as his basis—and its length, a scant 95 pages. It sounded right up my alley, but I hadn’t counted on Kierkegaard’s writing style, which is intentionally dense and off-putting to discourage the casual reader (me). So it turns out that this little pamphlet actually took longer to read than the 400 page Robin Hood.

But anyway, on to the content of the book. As mentioned above, Fear and Trembling is a meditation on the story of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac as recounted in Genesis 22. I say Abraham’s sacrifice because, although God actually provided a ram to replace Isaac, Kierkegaard argues that, in the most meaningful sense, Abraham did sacrifice Isaac since he remained willing up until the final moment, when the ram appeared.

This is one of the most difficult stories in the entire Bible, and Kierkegaard doesn’t shy away from the difficult questions it raises. Interestingly, however, he doesn’t focus on why God would ask Abraham to commit the act, as many theologians do. He rather focuses on Abraham and what his reaction to the request reveals about him and, in the bigger picture, faith itself.

As the conclusions Kierkegaard reaches, I’ll share what I understand of them here, in greatly condensed form. Kierkegaard says that Abraham is the only example of true faith he knows of, and he defines faith in a very complex way which I’m going to try to communicate in a few points:

a) Faith requires a basic belief in the object of the faith. b) Faith requires complete resignation of the finite world into the hands of God, followed by c) a resignation of infinite matters as well, so that d) finite matters can again be appreciated. Further, Kierkegaard argues that true faith requires more than hope, since hope requires a belief that the event believed in will actually happen. Abraham’s faith was true, he says, because Abraham believed that God would restore Isaac to him even though he also believed it was impossible that Isaac should be restored. Kierkegaard points to faith as an example of the absurd: believing that things that will not happen are going to happen is the paradox of faith.

There’s a lot more in this book (the information I described is mostly in the middle third), including some interesting questions about whether or not ethics can be superseded by a divine command and whether or not it is possible to act both within the boundaries of true faith and ethics at the same time (Kierkegaard argues that for Abraham, the ethical choice—that of not sacrificing his son—was actually a temptation away from the absolute best choice of following God’s command), but to be honest, these sections were both interesting and opaque to me.

I don’t really know how to end this review. I wouldn’t want anyone to think that I’ve exhausted or even fairly explained Kierkegaard’s views in this short post. There’s a lot here, and I may return to it in the future.

(Cross-posted from 50 Books Project)

Devotions

Every Christian knows one of the most difficult aspects of the Christian Life is having regular devotions. It seems strange that, of all the commands given in the Bible, one of the most difficult to carry out is one of the simplest—we are commanded simply to have a relationship with God. There are, as in every relationship, two aspects—first, we are to talk to God through the regular practice of prayer, and second, we are to allow him to speak to us through the regular practice of reading His Word. I’ve recently, after many years of resisting, began getting up early in the morning and having my devotions first thing, and that it works wonders for consistency. If anyone is reading this, what methods and timeframes work best for you?

A Change of Heart

When I began this blog a couple years ago, my intent was essentially to create my own little commentary on the Bible, specifically the New Testament. I envisioned a massive blog—maybe even a potential book deal—full of incisive, original observations, personal responses, and critical commentary that would encourage those who read it and eventually create a coherent snapshot of my spiritual beliefs and condition over the two or three year period during which I wrote it. And, honestly, I still think that’s a pretty good idea and maybe even something I’ll be interested in again in the future… but not right now.

As you can see by looking through the archives, I barely made a dent in Matthew before basically quitting. The reasons? A combination of busyness, lack of desire, a paucity of time. Ultimately though, what did me in was a lack of material. I found that I just didn’t have all that much insight. I would read a chapter, and no insights would jump out at me, no commentary would begin forming in my head. And so, this blog died.

But this morning I was thinking, and I’ve decided to repurpose it. I found I’d narrowed the focus of the blog so much that there was no room for reviews of Christian books I’d read, shorter ideas that didn’t merit a complete essay, and so on. So from here on out, I’m going to be updating with everything I write that falls within the very broad criteria established by the subtitle of this little project, “Thoughts on Spirituality”. I can’t promise that every post will be deep and incisive, but it will be an honest reflection of what spiritual topics I’ve taken time to write about instead of an annual update when I finally have an original thought. After all, originality is overrated. What is most desirable is truth, and the search for it.

This entire post may be self-serving—I’m not sure if anyone reads this blog anymore—but it will serve as a statement of purpose for me. Hopefully it will lead to more updates and might even be of interest to someone. Here’s to hoping.

The Weight of Glory by C. S. Lewis

The difference between this situation [forgiving your fellow man] and the one in which you are asking for God’s forgiveness is this. In our own case we accept excuses too easily; in others, we do not accept them easily enough. As regards my own sins it is a safe bet that the excuses are not really so good as I think; as regards other men’s sins against me it is a safe bet that the excuses are better than I think.

C. S. Lewis is my favorite writer. Like John Updike according to the blurb on the back of my copy of The Weight of Glory, “I read Lewis for comfort and pleasure many years ago, and a glance into the books revives my old admiration.” Everything I desire in non-fiction is present in Lewis’s essays: a consistent but not overbearing authorial voice, a dry sense of humor, and the thoughts of a mind sharp enough to generate thought whether you agree with them or not.

The Weight of Glory is a collection of essays, some of which are adapted from radio addresses Lewis delivered throughout his life. They touch on some the subjects you might expect from Lewis: theology, mythology, Christianity, and some you may not, such as cliques and war. Although it’s true that all these essays end up tying into bigger theological concerns, the smoothness and logic with which Lewis lays out his arguments ought to be an inspiration for Kierkegaards everywhere.

The titular essay concerns itself with the afterlife and the Christian’s response to it. It’s quite powerful and moving, one of the best he ever wrote, and yet the shortest essay in the book, one titled “Forgiveness” was the most impactful on me, saying more in a scant 5 pages than many authors can say in an entire book. The excerpt that opens this review comes from it, and seems to me to be wonderful advice to keep in mind whether you’re a Christian or not.