PREFACE \ LTHOUGH this little book (which is called "dis- /\ courses," not sermons, because its author has no XX authority to preach; "edifying discourses," not discourses for edification, because the speaker does not claim to be a teacher) only wishes to be what it is, some- thing of a superfluity, and only desires to remain in secret, as it came into existence in secret, I still have not said farewell to it without an almost fantastic hope. Insofar as it, by being published, is, figuratively speaking, starting out on a kind of journey, I let my eye follow it a little while. I saw, then, how it set out on its solitary way, or solitary set out along the highway. After one and another little misapprehension, when it was deceived by a fleet- ing resemblance, it finally met that individual whom with joy and gratitude I call my reader, that individual whom it seeks, toward whom, as it were, it stretches out its arms; that individual who is benevolent enough to let himself be found, benevolent enough to receive it, whether in the moment of meeting it found him happy and confident, or "melancholy and thoughtful." On the other hand, insofar as, by being published, it in a stricter sense remains quiet without leaving the place, I let my eye rest on it for a little while. It stood there, then, like an insignificant little blossom in its hiding place in the great forest, sought for neither for its showiness nor its fragrance nor its food value. But I saw also, or believed that I saw, how the bird whom I call my reader, suddenly fixed his eye upon it, flew down to it, plucked it off, and took it to himself. And when I had seen this, I saw nothing more. S. K.
Copenhagen, May 5, 1843 [His thirtieth birthday] I THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH NEW YEAR'S DAY But before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be revealed. Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. But after that faith is come, we are no longer under a school- master. For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. And if ye be Christ's, then are ye Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise. Galatians 3:23-29 IT is on the first day of the year that we are gathered here, devout listeners to this address! The festival we celebrate today is one to which the Church has given no name; and yet is its celebration no less welcome, its challenge to quiet meditation no less solemn. It is in the house of God that we are gathered, where the subject of discourse is always the same, though varied in fashion according to times and circumstances. A year has passed, a new year has begun, though as yet there has nothing happened in it. The past is completed; the present is not; only the future is, which yet is not. In our daily life we are accustomed to wish each other one or another good. According to what we believe ourselves to know about a man's special circumstances, his thoughts and achieve- ments, to that degree we deem ourselves capable of wish- ing for him some definite good, particularly suitable for him and for his life. On this day, too, we do not neglect to show other men our good will and sympathy by wishing them this or that good thing.
THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 3 But since on this particular day the thought about the future and the inscrutable possibility involved in the future, rises vividly before us, our wish tends to take on a more general character, because we hope that the greater compass of the wish may better succeed in laying hold of the future's manifold variety; because we feel the difficulty, over against the indeterminate and the indeter- minable, of wishing anything determinate. Nevertheless we do not permit this difficulty to repress our wish; we do not give the thought time to disturb the heart's mysteri- ous and indeterminate impulses; we express a good will, which, even if it does not deserve to be honored by the name of love, still ought not to be disparaged as thought- lessness. Only with respect to an individual person do we make an exception. To him our heart clings more stead- fastly, for his welfare we are more concerned. The more this is the case, the more conscious we become of the dif- ficulty. When the thought now becomes absorbed in the future, it strays hither and thither in its restless efforts to force or coax from the mystery its explanation; like a spy it hastens from one possibility to another, but in vain; and under all this the washing soul becomes sorrowful, sits there and waits for the thought to return and en- lighten it as to what it might venture to wish with all its heart. What others do easily and without trouble seems to this man heavy and difficult; what he himself does easily in relation to others, he finds hard in relation to the one he loves most, and the more he loves the greater the difficulty becomes. At last he becomes irresolute; he does not wish to release the beloved from his own influ- ence, to surrender him to the future's power, and yet he must; he will accompany him with all good wishes, but he has not one single, exclusive wish.
If a man's troubled mind felt itself ensnared like a prisoner in this difficulty, he would doubtless recollect the testimonies he had heard in these sacred places; he would perhaps go to one of them again in order to inquire as to whether there might not be a wish which was so safe that he dared pour the whole of his soul's fervency into it, without holding back any part of it for another wish, also of importance to the beloved; so cer- tain and so sure that he almost feared that he did not have enough inwardness to wish it as it ought to be wished; a wish that needed not to be accompanied by new wishes relative to its permanence; a wish which did not guile- fully continue after he had ceased to wish it; a wish that did not concern some one particular thing, lest he might have forgotten some other particular thing, which later might disturb his peace; a wish that did not confine itself to the present, but was suited to the future, as this was the occasion for his wishing. If such a wish could be found, then he would be free and glad, glad in his wish, and still more glad that he could wish it for the other.
And in these sacred places many good things are men- tioned. There is mention of worldly goods, of health, good times, wealth, power, fortune, a glorious fame; and the listener is warned against them; for he who has them is warned not to trust in them; he who does not have them is warned not to set his heart upon them. About Faith a different kind of speech is heard. It is said to be the highest good, the most beautiful, the most precious, the richest of all blessings, not to be compared with anything else, not replaceable by anything else. Is it then so dif- ferent from the other goods because it is the highest good, but, for the rest, of the same kind as those, transient, unstable, conferred only upon the chosen few, seldom for THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 5 the whole life? If this were so, then it would be inexplic- able that in these sacred places there is always one thing, and only one, said about faith, that it is again and again eulogized and commended. He who would speak about it must either be in possession of this good, or feel the lack of it. If he possessed it, then he would probably say: "I readily admit that it is the highest good of all, but praise it to others— no, I cannot do that, for that would make it harder for those who do not have it; besides, there is a secret pain connected with its possession which makes me more lonely than do the greatest sufferings." And this would be a very noble and benevolent thought on his part. But he who did not have faith could hardly admit it. So then the opposite of what happens would happen; faith would be the only good which was never mentioned in the holy places; for it would be too great for a man to dare warn against it, too glorious for one to dare to praise it, for fear there might be someone present who did not have it and could not get it. Consequently faith has a different quality; it is not only the highest good, but it is a good in which all can share; and he who rejoices in his possession of it, rejoices also on behalf of countless gener- ations of men; "for what I possess," he says, "that every man possesses or may possess." He who wishes it for an- other man, wishes it for himself; he who wishes it for himself, wishes it for every man; for that quality by virtue of which a man has faith is not one in which he is different from another man, but that wherein he is identical with him; that whereby he possesses it is not something in which he differs from others, but something in which he is absolutely identical with everyone else.
There was then such a wish as that bewildered man sought; he could wish it for another man with all his heart and with all his might and with all his soul, could dare to continue to wish it more and more heartily, as his love became more fervent. So, then, he would wish it.
If there was a man who went to another man and said to him: "I have often heard faith extolled as the highest good; I certainly feel that I do not have it; the complexity of my life, my troubles, my numerous affairs and many other things interfere; but this I know, that I have one wish and only one, that I may have a share in this faith." If it was a benevolently inclined man he went to, he would answer: "That is a beautiful and a devout wish which you ought not to relinquish, and it will surely be ful- filled."—Is it not true that it would seem to him an acceptable speech, to which he would gladly listen, for we are all willing to hear one who speaks about the fulfill- ment of our wish. Still time went on, and he got no farther.
Then he went to another man, confided to him, too, his concern and his wish. The man looked earnestly at him and said: "How can you be so in error? Your wish is not only pious and beautiful, but for no price should you relinquish it; you are much nearer to its fulfillment than you yourself believe; it is your duty to have faith, and if you do not have it, then it is your fault and a sin."
He would perhaps be startled by this speech, he would perhaps think: "So this faith is not as glorious as it was described, since it is acquired so easily; that would be ab- surd. For other good things one travels out into the wide world; they are concealed in distant places which are only accessible to men through great perils; or if this is not the case, then it is with their distribution as with the water at the pool of Bethesda, a-bout which we read in the sacred Scriptures: At times an angel went down and troubled the THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 7 water, and whoever came first, aye, he who came first, he was fortunate. With faith, on the contrary, with the high- est good, should not this also be the case; should there be no difficulty connected with its acquisition?" However, he would still certainly think earnestly upon this matter, and when he had rightly considered it, he might perhaps say: "He was right, it is so; it was a bold speech in which there was sense and meaning; that is the way a man should speak; for the wish profits nothing." Then would he quietly review his inner emotions; and every time his soul allowed itself to rest on a wish, he called it to him and said: "You know you must not wish"; and in so doing he made progress. When his soul became fearful he called it to him and said: "If you are anxious, it is because you are wishing; for fear is a form of wishing, and you know you must not wish"— and so he went on. When he was near despair, when he said: "I cannot, all other men can except myself. Oh, that I never had heard that speech, that I had gone my way through life un- disturbed, with my sorrow— and with my wish." Then he called upon his soul and said: "Now you are being crafty; for you say that you wish, and pretend that the speech was about something external, which one can wish, while you know that it is something internal, which one can only will; you delude yourself, for you say: 'All other men can, only not I,' and yet you know that that whereby other men can do it, is that in which they are absolutely identical with you, so that if it really is the truth that you can not do it, then neither can the others do it. So you betray not only your own case, but, insofar as it depends on you, the case of all men; and when you humbly exclude yourself from their number, then you slyly destroy their power!"
8 Then he went on. When he was then being slowly educated over a longer time under a schoolmaster, he was perhaps nearer to the faith. "Was being educated," as if it were another man who was doing it. Still this is not the case; it is only a misunderstanding, only an appearance. One man can do much for another man, but he cannot give him faith. We hear various stories in the world. One says: "My being what I am is my own work; I owe no man anything"; and he thinks it something to be proud of. Another says: "That distinguished man was my teacher, and I count it an honor to dare call myself his disciple"; and he believes it something to take pride in. We shall not decide how far such a speech is legitimate; but for it really to mean anything, it can only be applied to the specially gifted: those who either were inherently talented, or else so favored that they could become dis- ciples of the distinguished man. We, on the other hand, my hearers, we who were too insignificant to become disciples, what shall we say? If a man were to say: "When men rejected me, then I went to God; He be- came my schoolmaster, and this is my happiness, my joy, my pride," would this be less beautiful? And yet every man can say it, dares to say it, can say it in truth, and if he does not say it in truth, then it is not because the thought is not true, but because he distorts it. Every man dares say it. Whether his forehead was flattened almost like a beast's or arched more proudly than the heavens; whether his arm was outstretched to rule over kingdoms and countries, or to gather up the necessary gifts which fell from the rich man's table; whether his gesture was obeyed by thousands, or there was not a soul who paid attention to him; whether eloquence blossomed on his lips or only unintelligible sounds passed over them; THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 9 whether he was the powerful man who defied the storm, or the defenseless woman who only sought shelter against the storm— it has nothing to do with the matter, my hearer, absolutely nothing. Every man dares say it when he has faith; for this is precisely the glory of faith. And you know it, my hearer, you do not become afraid when it is mentioned, as if it thereby took something from you, as if you first savored its bliss in the moment of its departure. Or do you not know it? Alas! then were you very unfortu- nate. You could not grieve and say: "The giver of good gifts passed by my door"; you could not grieve and say: "The tempest and the storms took it from me"; for the giver of good gifts did not pass by your door; the tempest and the storm did not take it from you, for they could not do it.
So there was, then, a wish quite as that bewildered man had hoped for; he was no longer in distress. Yet there now appeared a new difficulty; for as he was wishing it, it became clear to him that that good could not be obtained through a wish; he could not even get it himself by wish- ing it, although this concerned him less, but neither could he give it to another by wishing it to him; only by himself willing it, could the other get it. So then it was again necessary to set him free, necessary to leave him to him- self, his wish for him was as impotent as before. And yet this was not his intention. He wished to do everything for him; for when I wish a man something, I do not require his co-operation. The bewildered man had also considered it in this way. He would, as it were, say to the beloved: "Just be quiet and unconcerned, you have nothing at all to do except to be glad, satisfied, and happy with all the good things I shall wish you. I shall wish, I shall not grow weary of wishing; I shall move the all- 10 10 bountiful God who bestows the good gifts, I shall move Him by my prayers; and so you shall have everything." And lo, as he mentioned the individual good things, they seemed to him so questionable that he dared not wish them for the other; when he finally found what he sought, what he might confidently wish for, lo, it was something that could not be wished.
He was again bewildered, again concerned, again en- snared in a difficulty. Is then the whole of life only a con- tradiction; can love not explain it, but only make it more difficult? That thought he could not endure; he must seek a way out. There must be something wrong in his love. Then he perceived that however much he had loved the other man, he still had loved him in the wrong way; for if it had been possible to procure for him all the good things, and also the highest good, faith, then he would by this very fact have made him into a more imperfect being. Then he found that life was beautiful, that it was a new glory in faith that no man can give it to another; but that what is highest, noblest, most sacred in man, that every man has; it is inherent in him, every man has it if he wills to have it; and this is the glory of faith, that it can only be had on this condition; therefore it is the only unfailing good, because it can only be had through being constantly acquired, and can only be ac- quired through being constantly developed.
The bewildered man was then reassured; but perhaps a change had taken place in him as well as in the one for whose welfare he was so concerned— in their relation to each other. They had become separated, in that one, so to speak, was established in his right, the other certain within his own limits. Their lives had become more signif- icant than before, and yet they had become almost stran- THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH II gers to one another. His heart, which before was so rich in wishes, had now become poor; his hand, which formerly was so willing to help, had now learned to be quiet; for he knew he could not help. It was truth he had recog- nized, but this truth had not made him happy. So life is then a contradiction, the truth can not explain it, but can Dnly make it more painful; for the more profoundly he recognized the truth, the more he felt himself separated, the more powerless in his relation to the other. And yet he :ould not wish that it was untrue, could not wish that he lad remained unconscious of it, although it had separated :hem for all eternity, as death itself could not have sep- arated them. This thought he was not able to endure; he nust seek an explanation; and then he perceived that his relation to his friend had now acquired its true signif- icance. "If I," said he, "with my wish or with my gift :ould present him with the highest good, then could I dso take it from him, even if he need not fear this; lye, what is worse, if I could do this, then I should in the iame moment that I gave it to him, take it from him; for n the fact that I gave him the highest good, I took the lighest good from him; for the highest would be that he hould give it to himself. Therefore I will thank God that his did not happen; my love has only lost its anxiety and gained gladness; for I know that with all my efforts I still hould not have been able to preserve this good for him ls certainly as he himself can keep it. He will not have o thank me for it, not because I set him free, but because le owes me nothing at all. Should I then be less glad with lim, less glad that he now owns the most precious of all joods? Nay, I will only be the more happy; for if he owed t to me, it would disturb our relation. And if he is not n possession of it, then I can be very helpful to him: for 12 I will accompany his thought, and urge him to perceive that it is the highest good, and I will prevent it from escaping into some hiding place where it might become obscure to him, whether he can understand it or not; with him I will penetrate every irregularity, until, if he does not have it, there is but a single expression which explains his failure— that he did not will it; this he cannot endure, then he will acquire it. On the other hand, I will praise the glory of faith to him, and as I assume that he possesses it, I bring him to will to own it. So today on the first day of the year, when the thought of the future tempts us with its manifold possibilities, I will show him that in faith he possesses the only power which can tri- umph over the future, I will speak to him about the expectation of faith."
My hearers, shall we not do the same, and according to the opportunities of this festal occasion, speak with one another about THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH.
When we speak about the expectation of faith, we also speak about expectation in general; when we speak about expectation, then we naturally think of ourselves as talk- ing to those who expect something. But those who have expectations are the happy and the successful. Are they then the proper persons to be addressed in these sacred places, and not rather the unsuccessful, those who have already made up their account with life and who expect nothing? Aye, the speech could well be addressed to them if our voice were capable of it. It could be said to them that it was a very wretched wisdom they had found, that it was easy enough to harden the heart; the pillow of sloth on which they would drowse away their lives in THE EXPECTATION OF FAITH 13 idleness could be taken away from them; it could be said that it was a proud distinction they had acquired in life, that while all other men— however successful or however troubled they had been in the world— were still always ready to recognize that God could indeed make up the reckoning, that while all other men confessed that on the day of judgment they would not be able to answer one to a thousand, they made it a condition that they should be in possession of a just demand on life which could not be redeemed, a demand which in its time would make the reckoning difficult enough— but not for them. They might be addressed thus; still we prefer to speak to those who still expect something.
As the number of those who expect something always constitutes the majority of the world, so too their expecta- tions can be so various that it is very difficult to mention all of them. Yet all of them have one expectation in com- mon, that they all expect some future; for expectation and the future are inseparable thoughts. He who expects something is preoccupied with the future. But to occupy himself with it, is perhaps not right. The complaint which is often heard, that men forget the present in their preoccupation with the future, is perhaps well founded. We shall not deny that this has happened in the world, even if more seldom in our time, but neither shall we fail to recall that it is precisely man's greatness, the proof of his divine heritage, that he can occupy himself with the future; for if there were no future, neither would there have been a past, and if there were neither past nor future, then would man be enslaved like the beasts, his head bent toward the earth, his soul ensnared in the service of the moment.
In that sense one might not, indeed, wish to live for M the present; nor in that sense might one have meant it when he recommended the present as the great thing. But where shall we set our limits, how much do we dare to occupy ourselves with the future? The answer is not difficult: until we have conquered it, until we are able to return to the present, until our life finds significance therein. Still it is indeed an impossibility; the future is everything, the present is a part of it; how could we have conquered the whole before we have even reached the first part of it; how return from this victory to that which went before? Is it not so; is it an ill-timed dif- ficulty the thought raises? By no means. It is precisely as here stated; for we dare not commend every occu- pation with the future. He who absolutely relinquishes it, becomes only in an unworthy sense strong in the present; he who does not conquer it, has one enemy more who will make him weak in the fight against the present. Consequently, not until he has conquered the future does his present life become sound and strong.