...with Fear and Trembling

[by Soren Kierkegaard]

No, not one shall be forgotten who was great in the world. But each was great in his own way, and each in proportion to the greatness of that which he loved. For he who loved himself became great by himself, and he who loved other men became great by his selfless devotion, but he who loved God became greater than all. Everyone shall be remembered, but each became great in proportion to his expectation. One became great by expecting the possible, another by expecting the eternal, but he who expected the impossible became greater than all. Everyone shall be remembered, but each was great in proportion to the greatness of that with which he strove. For he who strove with the world became great by overcoming the world, and he who strove with himself became great by overcoming himself, but he who strove with God became greater than all. So there was strife in the world, man against man, one against a thousand, but he who strove with God was greater than all. So there was strife upon earth: there was one who overcame all by his power, and there was one who overcame God by his impotence. There was one who relied upon himself and gained all, there was one who secure in his strength sacrificed all, but he who believed God was greater than all. There was one who was great by reason of his power, and one who was great by reason of his wisdom, and one who was great by reason of his hope, and one who was great by reason of his love; but Abraham was greater than all, great by reason of his power whose strength is impotence, great by reason of his wisdom whose secret is foolishness, great by reason of his hope whose form is madness, great by reason of the love which is hatred of oneself.

By faith Abraham went out from the land of his fathers and became a sojourner in the land of promise. He left one thing behind, took one thing with him: he left his earthly understanding behind and took faith with him -- otherwise he would not have wandered forth but would have thought this unreasonable. By faith he was a stranger in the land of promise, and there was nothing to recall what was dear to him, but by its novelty everything tempted his soul to melancholy yearning -- and yet he was God’s elect, in whom the Lord was well pleased! Yea, if he had been disowned, cast off from God’s grace, he could have comprehended it better; but now it was like a mockery of him and of his faith. There was in the world one too who lived in banishment from the fatherland he loved. He is not forgotten, nor his Lamentations when he sorrowfully sought and found what he had lost. There is no song of Lamentations by Abraham. It is human to lament, human to weep with them that weep, but it is greater to believe, more blessed to contemplate the believer.

By faith Abraham received the promise that in his seed all races of the world would be blessed. Time passed, the possibility was there, Abraham believed; time passed, it became unreasonable, Abraham believed. There was in the world one who had an expectation, time passed, the evening drew nigh, he was not paltry enough to have forgotten his expectation, therefore he too shall not be forgotten. Then he sorrowed. and sorrow did not deceive him as life had done, it did for him all it could, in the sweetness of sorrow he possessed his delusive expectation. It is human to sorrow, human to sorrow with them that sorrow, but it is greater to believe, more blessed to contemplate the believer. There is no song of Lamentations by Abraham. He did not mournfully count the days while time passed, he did not look at Sarah with a suspicious glance, wondering whether she were growing old, he did not arrest the course of the sun, that Sarah might not grow old, and his expectation with her. He did not sing lullingly before Sarah his mournful lay. Abraham became old, Sarah became a laughing-stock in the land, and yet he was God’s elect and inheritor of the promise that in his seed all the races of the world would be blessed. So were it not better if he had not been God’s elect? What is it to be God’s elect? It is to be denied in youth the wishes of youth, so as with great pains to get them fulfilled in old age. But Abraham believed and held fast the expectation. If Abraham had wavered, he would have given it up. If he had said to God, "Then perhaps it is not after all Thy will that it should come to pass, so I will give up the wish. It was my only wish, it was my bliss. My soul is sincere, I hide no secret malice because Thou didst deny it to me" -- he would not have been forgotten, he would have saved many by his example, yet he would not be the father of faith. For it is great to give up one’s wish, but it is greater to hold it fast after having given it up, it is great to grasp the eternal, but it is greater to hold fast to the temporal after having given it up.

Then came the fullness of time. If Abraham had not believed, Sarah surely would have been dead of sorrow, and Abraham, dulled by grief, would not have understood the fulfillment but would have smiled at it as at a dream of youth. But Abraham believed, therefore he was young; for he who always hopes for the best becomes old, and he who is always prepared for the worst grows old early, but he who believes preserves an eternal youth. Praise therefore to that story! For Sarah, though stricken in years, was young enough to desire the pleasure of motherhood, and Abraham, though gray-haired, was young enough to wish to be a father. In an outward respect the marvel consists in the fact that it came to pass according to their expectation, in a deeper sense the miracle of faith consists in the fact that Abraham and Sarah were young enough to wish, and that faith had preserved their wish and therewith their youth. He accepted the fulfillment of the promise, he accepted it by faith, and it came to pass according to the promise and according to his faith -- for Moses smote the rock with his rod, but he did not believe.

Then there was joy in Abraham’s house, when Sarah became a bride on the day of their golden wedding.

But it was not to remain thus. Still once more Abraham was to be tried. He had fought with that cunning power which invents everything, with that alert enemy which never slumbers, with that old man who outlives all things -- he had fought with Time and preserved his faith. Now all the terror of the strife was concentrated in one instant. "And God tempted Abraham and said unto him, Take Isaac, thine only son, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah, and offer him there for a burnt offering upon the mountain which I will show thee."

So all was lost -- more dreadfully than if it had never come to pass.  So the Lord was only making sport of Abraham! He made miraculously the preposterous actual, and now in turn He would annihilate it. It was indeed foolishness, but Abraham did not laugh at it like Sarah when the promise was announced. All was lost! Seventy years of faithful expectation, the brief joy at the fulfillment of faith. Who then is he that plucks away the old man’s staff, who is it that requires that he himself shall break it? Who is he that would make a man’s gray hairs comfortless, who is it that requires that he himself shall do it? Is there no compassion for the venerable oldling, none for the innocent child? And yet Abraham was God’s elect, and it was the Lord who imposed the trial. All would now be lost. The glorious memory to be preserved by the human race, the promise in Abraham’s seed -- this was only a whim, a fleeting thought which the Lord had had, which Abraham should now obliterate. That glorious treasure which was just as old as faith in Abraham’s heart, many, many years older than Isaac, the fruit of Abraham’s life, sanctified by prayers, matured in conflict -- the blessing upon Abraham’s lips, this fruit was now to be plucked prematurely and remain without significance. For what significance had it when Isaac was to be sacrificed? That sad and yet blissful hour when Abraham was to take leave of all that was dear to him, when yet once more he was to lift up his head, when his countenance would shine like that of the Lord, when he would concentrate his whole soul in a blessing which was potent to make Isaac blessed all his days -- this time would not come! For he would indeed take leave of Isaac, but in such a way that he himself would remain behind; death would separate them, but in such a way that Isaac remained its prey. The old man would not be joyful in death as he laid his hands in blessing upon Isaac, but he would be weary of life as he laid violent hands upon Isaac. And it was God who tried him. Yea, woe, woe unto the messenger who had come before Abraham with such tidings! Who would have ventured to be the emissary of this sorrow? But it was God who tried Abraham.

Yet Abraham believed, and believed for this life. Yea, if his faith had been only for a future life, he surely would have cast everything away in order to hasten out of this world to which he did not belong. But Abraham’s faith was not of this sort, if there be such a faith; for really this is not faith but the furthest possibility of faith which has a presentiment of its object at the extremest limit of the horizon, yet is separated from it by a yawning abyss within which despair carries on its game. But Abraham believed precisely for this life, that he was to grow old in the land, honored by the people, blessed in his generation, remembered forever in Isaac, his dearest thing in life, whom he embraced with a love for which it would be a poor expression to say that he loyally fulfilled the father’s duty of loving the son, as indeed is evinced in the words of the summons, "the son whom thou lovest." Jacob had twelve sons, and one of them he loved; Abraham had only one, the son whom he loved.

Yet Abraham believed and did not doubt, he believed the preposterous. If Abraham had doubted -- then he would have done something else, something glorious; for how could Abraham do anything but what is great and glorious! He would have marched up to Mount Moriah, he would have cleft the fire-wood, lit the pyre, drawn the knife -- he would have cried out to God, "Despise not this sacrifice, it is not the best thing I possess, that I know well, for what is an old man in comparison with the child of promise; but it is the best I am able to give Thee. Let Isaac never come to know this, that he may console himself with his youth." He would have plunged the knife into his own breast. He would have been admired in the world, and his name would not have been forgotten; but it is one thing to be admired, and another to be the guiding star which saves the anguished.

But Abraham believed. He did not pray for himself, with the hope of moving the Lord -- it was only when the righteous punishment was decreed upon Sodom and Gomorrha that Abraham came forward with his prayers.

We read in those holy books: "And God tempted Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham, Abraham, where art thou? And he said, Here am I." Thou to whom my speech is addressed, was such the case with thee? When afar off thou didst see the heavy dispensation of providence approaching thee, didst thou not say to the mountains, Fall on me, and to the hills, Cover me? Or if thou wast stronger, did not thy foot move slowly along the way, longing as it were for the old path? When a call was issued to thee, didst thou answer, or didst thou not answer perhaps in a low voice, whisperingly? Not so Abraham: joyfully, buoyantly, confidently, with a loud voice, he answered, "Here am I." We read further: "And Abraham rose early in the morning" -- as though it were to a festival, so he hastened, and early in the morning he had come to the place spoken of, to Mount Moriah. He said nothing to Sarah, nothing to Eleazar. Indeed who could understand him? Had not the temptation by its very nature exacted of him an oath of silence? He cleft the wood, he bound Isaac, he lit the pyre, he drew the knife. My hearer, there was many a father who believed that with his son he lost everything that was dearest to him in the world, that he was deprived of every hope for the future, but yet there was none that was the child of promise in the sense that Isaac was for Abraham. There was many a father who lost his child; but then it was God, it was the unalterable, the unsearchable will of the Almighty, it was His hand took the child. Not so with Abraham. For him was reserved a harder trial, and Isaac’s fate was laid along with the knife in Abraham’s hand. And there he stood, the old man, with his only hope! But he did not doubt, he did not look anxiously to the right or to the left, he did not challenge heaven with his prayers. He knew that it was God the Almighty who was trying him, he knew that it was the hardest sacrifice that could be required of him; but he knew also that no sacrifice was too hard when God required it -- and he drew the knife.

Priceless

I arrived home from work this afternoon only to have my eyes met with this envelope, addressed to me from the "International Fellowship [sic - and sick] of Christians [sic] and Jews of Canada."  Where did they get my info?  And... are they mocking me?  The audacity of the letter's contents was quite galling.  However, I couldn't help but find a trace of ironic humour in the tag-line.

"Racial matters are not openly talked about these days, either in this country or in England; there is a world of difference between what people are told it is right and proper and moral and true to believe, and what people themselves see and feel to be the case. In fact, I don’t know of any matter on which people’s natural sentiments are so at odds with what opinion-makers and intellectuals hold as a vitally important truth—except perhaps the healthy normality of homosexual culture.

"Now I ask: Is it wrong to hold that there are racial differences? that these differences are biologically or genetically grounded? that they influence various abilities and behaviors? that awareness of these differences could legitimately influence social policies—even personal social policies, the policies I make for myself, about whom to associate with and befriend?

"But surely there is a prior question: Is it true? For if something is true, how can it be wrong to believe it? We’ve come to a strange pass in our history where a belief is considered so horrible, so wrong, that it can’t possibly be true. Most people in their hearts believe it to be true; but they can’t express this belief—even to themselves! People—not all people of course: I mean people of European ancestry—consider it wrong to feel that they’d rather be with people more or less culturally or racially like themselves.

"We’ve come to a strange pass in our history where a belief is considered so horrible, so wrong, that it can’t possibly be true...

"But if all this is natural, normal, healthy, I’d like to ask: why is it considered so very wrong? And the answer, I think, can be summed up in a word that is both unfortunate and convenient: Liberalism. A certain sort of Liberalism has traduced the intelligence of almost all the people in the media and the academy. These people have come to believe that unless we subscribe to some sort of racial egalitarianism, it is impossible to believe in the dignity of man. So for Liberals a great deal hangs on the notion of equality. I don’t think it’s too much to say that racial equality is a secular religious belief; if it weren’t I don’t think it would be defended with such ardor, and in spite of so much contrary empirical evidence. But why do Liberals hold to this view of equality?

"I realize there’s nothing more tedious than for a professor of philosophy to try to trace the roots of some intellectual current. But the more I study and live with Liberals (and especially the more I study the French Enlightenment), the more I come to see that Liberalism is a form of Christianity—not a Christian heresy exactly, but a kind of ersatz Christianity: something that rejects Christianity itself, but attempts to keep some of the things within Christian teaching it found attractive and appealing. One of these notions is equality.

"Within Christian teaching there is a sense in which all men are equal; all men come from one source—God. They are all called to share in God’s plan of salvation. Since this plan is God’s, it is also the ground of the dignity of all who fall under it. But notice: This does not mean, and was never thought in orthodox Christianity to mean, that all have the same abilities, are equally good or talented.

"In fact the Christian teaching is that we’re a pretty miserable lot: that if there is to be equality, it’s an equality of badness! But even here there are degrees. Christians could believe that there are innate differences among various peoples and yet still believe that these various peoples have the dignity proper to all human beings as children of God. Put it another way: Though Christians believed that all fall equally under the plan of God’s salvific will, they also believed that there are some cultures and cultural practices I as a Christian can find repellent; that there are certain sorts of people who will never be my confidants; that there are many people who will never reach anything but a low level of intellectual achievement. And all this could be held with an easy conscience.

"Now with the coming of Liberalism, there was a denial of the Christian God. And therefore equality and dignity could no longer be grounded in God’s salvific plan. How then could they be grounded? Liberalism had to find a ground for equality and dignity within nature. But where? Christians had believed that we have a common origin and that in this sense we are one. But accidents of evolution could never convincingly ground a kind of equality that is something to prize: a kind that has real worth. And since empirically it was (and is) obvious that there is much inequality and difference among different races, this equality had to be seen as potential: an equality of the seeming worst with the best: an equality unverified only because of accidental circumstances, because of a lack of opportunity, a lack of education, a lack of justice on the part of the privileged toward the deprived. The engine that drives Liberalism is the need to prove concretely—to verify in history—the dignity of man: to eliminate those obstacles that hinder the nobleman waiting to emerge from every peasant."

--Father Ronald Tacelli

The Grand Inquisitor

The following are excerpted from "The Grand Inquisitor", a well-known chapter of The Brothers Karamazov.

In the sixteenth century, during the Inquisition, Jesus appears after a tremendous bonfire of heretics.  He is immediately recognized and adored by the crowds... at first, that is.  When the Grand Inquisitor arrives, Jesus is arrested and thrown in prison.  The Grand Inquisitor then proceeds to show Him the error of His ways by expounding the superior wisdom of Satan, "the dread and wise spirit". 

Notice any resemblance to our present era in the Inquisitor's predictions?

"Decide yourself who was right: you or the one who questioned you then?  [speaking of Satan tempting Christ in the wilderness]  Recall the first question; its meaning, though not literally, was this: "You want to go into the world, and you are going empty-handed, with some promise of freedom, which they in their simplicity and innate lawlessness cannot even comprehend, which they dread and fear -- for nothing has ever been more insufferable for man and for human society than freedom!  But do you see these stones in this bare, scorching desert?  Turn them into bread and mankind will run after you like sheep, grateful and obedient, though eternally trembling lest you withdraw your hand and your loaves cease for them."  But you did not want to deprive man of freedom and rejected the offer, for what sort of freedom is it, you reasoned, if obedience is bought with loaves of bread?  You objected that man does not live by bread alone, but do you know that in the name of this very earthly bread, the spirit of the earth will rise against you and fight with you and defeat you, and everyone will follow him exclaiming: "Who can compare to this beast, for he has given us fire from heaven!"  Do you know that centuries will pass and mankind will proclaim with the mouth of its wisdom and science that there is no crime, and therefore no sin, but only hungry men?  "Feed them first, then ask virtue of them!" -- that is what they will write on the banner they raise against you, and by which your temple will be destroyed.  In place of your temple a new edifice will be raised, the terrible Tower of Babel will be raised again, and though, like the former one, this one will not be completed either, still you could have avoided this new tower and shortened people's suffering by a thousand years -- for it is to us they will come after suffering for a thousand years with their tower! ...they will find us and cry out:  "Feed us, for those who promised us fire from heaven did not give it."  And then we shall finish building their tower, for only he who feeds them will finish it, and only we shall feed them, in your name, for we shall lie that it is in your name... in the end they will lay their freedom at our feet and say to us: "Better that you  enslave us, but feed us."

I never know quite what I will or will not receive in the mail on a given day.  Normally, I don't get much of it, with the exception of a few bills, ads, and the (way too many) books I order.  However, there are some unexpected surprises from time to time.

Last Friday I received two envelopes, neither of which would be very remarkable on its own.  But side by side it was quite another story.  In the first was contained a shiny new credit card with a $15,000 limit.  (For work purposes, of course...)  The second contained a letter from the American Monetary Institute, thanking me for my "support".*

Oh, the irony of it all!

*But really guys, I just wanted your book -- I don't really think your policies are all that great.

Once last year, I received a plain envelope with "Foreign Affairs" marked on the return address.  With trembling hands I turned it over, thinking all the while, "Is this it?  Have they found me?  It's only a matter of time now... I wonder, how long do I have left?"

...Inside was a subscription offer for a political magazine.