“Fear and trembling” is a phrase that appears twice in the Bible. In Psalm 55:5, King David writes that “Fear and trembling are come upon me, and horror hath overwhelmed me”; and Saint Paul tells his disciples in his letter to the Philippians (chapter 2, verse 12) that “as ye have always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much more in my absence, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” The phrase is a daunting one, and Søren Kiekkegaard sets himself, and his readers, a daunting set of philosophical tasks in his 1843 work Frygt og baeven (Fear and Trembling).
Søren Kiekkegaard is known as an early exponent of Christian existentialism – and, therefore, as someone who brought together two intellectual traditions that might have been considered incompatible. After all, Christianity holds that meaning is to be found in human life through acceptance of Jesus Christ as one’s Saviour, the Son of God, the Messiah, the Son of Man, the Second Person of the Blessed Trinity – and through adherence to the tenets of the Christian faith (in one of its various sects). Existentialism, by contrast, holds that the individual, alone in the universe, must create meaning for themselves, through thought, perception, imagination, and action. Two more different and seemingly irreconcilable intellectual traditions would be hard to imagine.
Yet Kierkegaard was deeply committed to the principles of the Christian faith – and to the existential concept that the individual creates meaning through their own choices and actions. In the case of Fear and Trembling, all of Kierkegaard’s interests come together through an examination of the Biblical story of Abraham taking his son Isaac to be sacrificed, in accordance with God’s command.
This story is at the center of three of the world’s great faiths, and yet it is a profoundly troubling story. It is a three-day journey from Abraham’s home to Mount Moriah, where Abraham has been told that he is to sacrifice Isaac – meaning that he has plenty of time to think about how he has been asked to commit what would usually be considered the most unnatural of acts. As Kierkegaard puts it, “The ethical expression for what Abraham did is that he was willing to murder Isaac; but in this contradiction lies the very anguish that can indeed make one sleepless; and yet without that anguish, Abraham is not the one he is” (p. 59). Kierkegaard feels that conventionally, “What is left out of the Abraham story is the anguish; for…to a son the father has the highest and most sacred of obligations” (p. 58).
Kierkegaard states at one point that “It is God who demands absolute love” (p. 100). And the story of Abraham and Isaac reminds one how heavy that demand can be. I like how Kierkegaard sets forth the difficulties involved in addressing this story: “So either there is an absolute duty to God – and, if so, then it is the paradox described, that the single individual as the particular is higher than the universal, and as the particular stands in an absolute relation to the absolute – or else faith has never existed because it has existed always; or else Abraham is done for” (p. 107).
Kierkegaard is deeply interested in the nature of faith – “For faith is just this paradox, that the single individual is higher than the universal, though in such a way, be it noted, that the movement is repeated; that is, that, having been in the universal, the single individual now sets himself apart as the particular above the universal” (p. 84). Of faith, he says that “he who loves God without faith reflects on himself, while the person who loves God in faith reflects on God” (p. 66). Adverting to the earlier story of how Sarah became pregnant and gave birth even though she was advanced in years, Kierkegaard affirms the power of faith, stating that “he who always hopes for the best becomes old, deceived by life, and he who is always prepared for the worst becomes old prematurely; but he who has faith, retains eternal youth” (p. 51). Faith involves expecting what, in strictly rational terms, is impossible: “One became great through expecting the possible, another by expecting the eternal; but he who expected the impossible became greater than all” (p. 50).
For all of his interest in philosophy, Kierkegaard feels that philosophy has its limits where faith is concerned: “Philosophy cannot and should not give us an account of faith, but should understand itself and know just what it has indeed to offer, without taking anything away, least of all cheating people out of something by making them think it is nothing” (p. 62).
Kierkegaard is also strongly interested in the concept of “infinite resignation” -- meaning the moment when one resigns oneself to losing forever the thing that one loves most. The applicability of this concept to the story of Abraham’s prospective sacrifice of Isaac is apparent. Kierkegaard writes that “Infinite resignation is the last stage before faith, so that anyone who has not made this movement does not have faith, for only in infinite resignation does my eternal validity become transparent to me, and only then can there be talk of grasping existence on the strength of faith.” He follows upon this idea by stating that “Faith is therefore no aesthetic emotion, but something far higher, exactly because it presupposes resignation; it is not the immediate inclination of the heart, but the paradox of existence” (p. 75).
The footnotes by Alistair Hannay, an English-born emeritus professor of philosophy at the University of Oslo, are quite helpful in situating Kierkegaard’s work within its Scandinavian linguistic and cultural context. When, for instance, Kierkegaard writes in “Problema I” that “Whenever…the single individual feels an urge to assert his particularity, he is in a state of temptation” (p. 83), Hannay points out that “‘Temptation expresses three distinct notions in Fear and Trembling, all of them distinguished in the Danish. When God ‘tempts’ Abraham, God is putting Abraham to a test. The test, however, is Abraham’s ability to withstand temptation (Fristelse) in another, the usual sense, namely the power to attract someone away from a course he or she believes to be the right one. In the present context, temptation (Anfœgtelse) is a state in which someone’s being, tempted in this usual sense, is connected with the idea of passing or failing a test of spiritual adequacy” (p. 152).
To call Fear and Trembling challenging would be an understatement – but then, the story of Abraham and Isaac is challenging in its own right.