No, no one shall be forgotten who was great in this world. But each hero was great in his own way, and each one was eminent in proportion to the great things he loved. For he who loved himself became great through himself, and he who loved others became great through his devotion, but he who loved God became greater than all of these. Everyone of them shall be remembered, but each one became Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 127 great in proportion to his trust. One became great by hoping for the possible; another, by hoping for the eternal; but he who hoped for the impossible, he became greater than all of these. Every one shall be remembered; but each one was great in proportion to the power with which he strove. For he who strove with the world became great by over- coming himself; but he who strove with God, he became the greatest of them all. Thus there have been struggles in the world, man against man, one against a thousand; but he who struggled with God, he became greatest of them all. Thus there was fighting on this earth, and there was he who conquered everything by his strength, and there was he who conquered God by his weakness. There was he who, trust- ing in himself, gained all; and there was he who, trusting in his strength sacrificed everything; but he who believed in God was greater than all of these. There was he* who was great through his strength, and he who was great through his wisdom, and he who was great through his hopes, and he who was great through his love; but Abraham was greater than all of these — great through the strength whose power is weakness, great through the wisdom whose secret is folly, great through the hope whose expression is madness, great through the love which is hatred of one's self.
Through the urging of his faith Abraham left the land of his forefathers and became a stranger in the land of promise. He left one thing behind and took one thing along: he left his worldly wisdom behind and took with him faith. For else he would not have left the land of his fathers, but would have thought it an unreasonable demand. Through his faith he came to be a stranger in the land of promise, where there was nothing to remind him of all that had been dear to him, but where everything by its newness tempted his soul to longing. And yet was he God's chosen, he in whom the Lord was well pleased! Indeed, had he been one cast off, one thrust out of God's mercy, then might he have comprehended it; but now it seemed like a mockery of him and of his faith. There have been others who lived in exile from the fatherland which they loved. They are not for- gotten, nor is the song of lament forgotten in which they 128 University of Texas Bulletin mournfully sought and found what they had lost. Of Abra- ham there exists no song of lamentation. It is human to complain, it is human to weep with the weeping; but it is greater to believe, and more blessed to consider him who has faith.
Through his faith Abraham received the promise that in his seed were to be blessed all races of mankind. Time passed, there was still the possibility of it, and Abraham had faith. Another man there was who also lived in hopes. Time passed, the evening of his life was approaching; neither was he paltry enough to have forgotten his hopes: neither shall he be forgotten by us! Then he sorrowed, and his sorrow did not deceive him, as life had done, but gave him all it could; for in the sweetness of sorrow he became possessed of his disappointed hopes. It is human to sor- row, it is human to sorrow with the sorrowing; but it is greater to have faith, and more blessed to consider him who has faith.
No song of lamentation has come down to us from Abra- ham. He did not sadly count the days as time passed; he did not look at Sarah with suspicious eyes, whether she was becoming old; he did not stop the sun's course lest Sarah should grow old and his hope with her; he did not lull her with his songs of lamentation. Abraham grew old, and Sarah became a laughing-stock to the people; and yet was he God's chosen, and heir to the promise that in his seed were to be blessed all races of mankind. Were it, then, not better if he had not been God's chosen? For what is it to be God's chosen? Is it to have denied to one in one's youth all the wishes of youth in order to have them fulfilled after great labor in old age?
But Abraham had faith and steadfastly lived in hope. Had Abraham been less firm in his trust, then would he have given up that hope. He would have said to God: "So it is, perchance, not Thy will, after all, that this shall come to pass. I shall surrender my hope. It was my only one, it was my bliss. I am sincere, I conceal no secret grudge for that Thou didst deny it to me.'* He would not have remained forgotten, his example would have saved Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 129 many a one; but he would not have become the Father of Faith. For it is great to surrender one's hope, but greater still to abide by it steadfastly after having surrendered it; for it is great to seize hold of the eternal hope, but greater still to abide steadfastly by one's worldly hopes after having surrendered them.
Then came the fulness of time. If Abraham had not had faith, then Sarah would probably have died of sorrow, and Abraham, dulled by his grief, would not have understood the fulfilment, but would have smiled about it as a dream of his youth. But Abraham had faith, and therefore he re- mained young; for he who always hopes for the best, him life will deceive, and he will grow old; and he who is always prepared for the worst, he will soon age; but he who has faith, he will preserve eternal youth. Praise, therefore, be to this story! For Sarah, though advanced in age, was young enough to wish for the pleasures of a mother, and Abraham, though grey of hair, was young enough to wish to become a father. In a superficial sense it may be con- sidered miraculous that what they wished for came to pass, but in a deeper sense the miracle of faith is to be seen in Abraham's and Sarah's being young enough to wish, and their faith having preserved their wish and therewith their youth. The promise he had received was fulfilled, and he accepted it in faith, and it came to pass according to the promise and his faith; whereas Moses smote the rock with his staff but believed not.
There was joy in Abraham's house when Sarah celebrated the day of her Golden Wedding.
But it was not to remain thus; for once more was Abra- ham to be tempted. He had struggled with that cunning power to which nothing is impossible, with that ever watch- ful enemy who never sleeps, with that old man who outlives all — he had struggled with Time and had preserved his faith. And now all the terror of that fight was concentrated in one moment. "And God tempted Abraham, saying to him: take now thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a 130 University of Texas Bulletin burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of."2 All was lost, then, and more terribly than if a son had never been given him! The Lord had only mocked Abra- ham, then! Miraculously he had realized the unreasonable hopes of Abraham; and now he wished to take away what he had given, A foolish hope it had been, but Abraham had not laughed when the promise had been made him. Now all was lost — the trusting hope of seventy years, the brief joy at the fulfilment of his hopes. Who, then, is he that snatches away the old man's staff, who that demands that he himself shall break it in two? Who is he that renders disconsolate the grey hair of old age, who is he that demands that he himself shall do it? Is there no pity for the ven- erable old man, and none for the innocent child? And yet was Abraham God's chosen one, and yet was it the Lord that tempted him. And now all was to be lost! The glo- rious remembrance of him by a whole race, the promise of Abraham's seed — all that was but a whim, a passing fancy of the Lord, which Abraham was now to destroy forever! That glorious treasure, as old as the faith in Abraham's heart, and many, many years older than Isaac, the fruit of Abraham's life, sanctified by prayers, matured in struggles — the blessing on the lips of Abraham: this fruit was now to be plucked before the appointed time, and to remain with- out significance; for of what significance were it if Isaac was to be sacrificed? That sad and yet blessed hour when Abraham was to take leave from all that was dear to him, the hour when he would once more lift up his venerable head, when his face would shine like the countenance of the Lord, the hour when he would collect his whole soul for a blessing strong enough to render Isaac blessed all the days of his life — ^that hour was not to come! He was to say farewell to Isaac, to be sure, but in such wise that he him- self was to remain behind; death was to part them, but in such wise that Isaac was to die. The old man was not in happiness to lay his hand on Isaac's head when the hour -'Genesis 20, 11 f.
Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 131 of death came, but, tired of life, to lay violent hands on Isaac. And it was God who tempted him. Woe, woe to the messenger who would have come before Abraham with such a command! Who would have dared to be the messenger of such dread tidin'gs? But it was God that tempted Abraham.
But Abraham had faith, and had faith for this life. In- deed, had his faith been but concerning the life to come, then might he more easily have cast away all, in order to hasten out of this world which was not his...
But Abraham had faith and doubted not, but trusted that the improbable would come to pass. If Abraham had doubted, then would he have undertaken something else, something great and noble; for what could Abraham have undertaken but was great and noble! He would have pro- ceeded to Mount Moriah, he would have cloven the wood, and fired it, and unsheathed his knife — he would have cried out to God: "Despise not this sacrifice; it is not, indeed, the best I have; for what is an old man against a child foretold of God; but it is the best I can give thee. Let Isaac never know that he must find consolation in his youth." He would have plunged the steel in his own breast. And he would have been admired throughout the world, and his name would not have been forgotten; but it is one thing to be admired and another, to be a lode-star which guides one troubled in mind.
But Abraham had faith. He prayed not for mercy and that he might prevail upon the Lord: it was only when just retribution was to be visited upon Sodom and Gomorrha that Abraham ventured to beseech Him for mercy.
We read in Scripture: "And God did tempt Abraham, and said unto him, Abraham: and he said. Behold here I am."^ You, whom I am now addressing did you do like- wise? When you saw the dire dispensations of Providence approach threateningly, did you not then say to the moun- tains, Fall on me; and to the hills, Cover me?* Or, if you were stronger in faith, did not your step linger along the way, longing for the old accustomed paths, as it were? And 132 University of Texas Bulletin when the voice called you, did you answer, then, or not at all, and if you did, perchance in a low voice, or whispering? Not thus Abraham, but gladly and cheerfully and trust- ingly, and with a resonant voice he made answer: "Here am I." And we read further: "And Abraham rose up early in the morning." ' He made haste as though for some joy- ous occasion, and early in the morning he was in the ap- pointed place, on Mount Moriah. He said nothing to Sarah, nothing to Eliezer, his steward; for who would have under- stood him? Did not his temptation by its very nature de- mand of him the vow of silence? "He laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood. And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son."' My listener! Many a father there has been who thought that with his child he lost the dearest of all there was in the world for him; yet assuredly no child ever was in that sense a pledge of God as was Isaac to Abraham. Many a father there has been who lost his child; but then it was God, the unchangeable and inscrutable will of the Almighty and His hand which took it. Not thus with Abraham. For him was reserved a more severe trial, and Isaac's fate was put into Abraham's hand together with the knife. And there he stood, the old man, with his only hope! Yet did he not doubt, nor look anx- iously to the left or right, nor challenge Heaven with his prayers. He knew it was God the Almighty who now put him to the test; he knew it was the greatest sacrifice which could be demanded of him; but he knew also that no sacrifice was too great which God demanded — and he drew forth his knife.
Who strengthened Abraham's arm, who supported his right arm that it drooped not powerless? For he who con- templates this scene is unnerved. Who strengthened Abra- ham's soul so that his eyes grew not too dim to see either Isaac or the ram? For he who contemplates this scene will be struck with blindness. And yet, it is rare enough that one is unnerved or is struck with blindness, and still more rare that one narrates worthily what there did take Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 133 place between father and son. To be sure, we know well enough — it was but a trial!
If Abraham had doubted, when standing on Mount Mo- riah; if he had looked about him in perplexity; if he had accidentally discovered the ram before drawing his knife; if God had permitted him to sacrifice it instead of Isaac — then would he have returned home, and all would have been as before, he would have had Sarah and would have kept Isaac; and yet how different all would have been! For then had his return been a flight, his salvation an accident, his reward disgrace, his future, perchance, perdition. Then would he have borne witness neither to his faith nor to God's mercy, but would have witnessed only to the terror of going to Mount Moriah. Then Abraham would not have been forgotten, nor either Mount Moriah. It would be men- tioned, then, not as is Mount Ararat on which the Ark landed, but as a sign of terror, because it was there Abra- ham doubted.
Venerable patriarch Abraham! When you returned home from Mount Moriah you required no encomiums to console you for what you had lost; for, indeed, you did win all and still kept Isaac, as we all know. And the Lord did no more take him from your side, but you sate gladly at table with him in your tent as in the life to come you will, for all times. Venerable patriarch Abraham! Thousands of years have passed since those times, but still you need no late-born lover to snatch your memory from the power of oblivion, for every language remembers you — and yet do you reward your lover more gloriously than any one, rendering him blessed in your bosom, and taking heart and eyes captive by the marvel of your deed. Venerable patriarch Abraham! Second father of the race! You who first perceived and bore witness to that unbounded passion which has but scorn for the terrible fight with the raging elements and the strength of brute creation, in order to struggle with God; you who first felt that sublimest of all passions, you who found the holy, pure, humble expression for the divine madness which was a marvel to the heathen — forgive him who would speak in your praise, in case he did it not fittingly. He spoke humbly.
134 University of Texas Bulletin as if it concerned the desire of his heart; he spoke briefly, as is seemly; but he will never forget that you required a hundred years to obtain a son of your old age, against all expections; that you had to draw the knife before being permitted to keep Isaac; he will never forget that in a hun- dred and thirty years you never got farther than to faith.
PRELIMINARY EXPECTORATION An old saying, derived from the world of experience, has it that "he who will not work shall not eat."" But, strange to say, this does not hold true in the world where it is thought applicable; for in the world of matter the law of imperfection prevails, and we see, again and again, that he also who will not work has bread to eat — indeed, that he who sleeps has a greater abundance of it than he who works. In the world of matter everything belongs to whosoever happens to possess it; it is thrall to the law of indifference, and he who happens to possess the Ring also has the Spirit of the Ring at his beck and call, whether now he be Noured- din or Aladdin," and he who controls the treasures of this ^In Aladdin, Oehlenschlager's famous dramatic poem, Aladdin, "the cheerful son of nature," is contrasted with Noureddin, representing the gloom of doubt and night.
Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 135 world, controls them, howsoever he managed to do so. It is different in the world of spirit. There, an eternal and divine order obtains, there the rain does not fall on the just and the unjust alike, nor does the sun shine on the good and the evil alike;^ but there the saying does hold true that he who will not work shall not eat, and only he who was troubled shall find rest, and only he who descends into the nether world shall rescue his beloved, and only he who unsheathes his knife shall be given Isaac again. There, he who will not work shall not eat, but shall be deceived, as the gods deceived Orpheus with an immaterial figure instead of his beloved Euridice,'' deceived him because he was love-sick and not courageous, deceived him because he was a player on the cithara rather than a man. There, it avails not to have an Abraham for one's father,^" or to have se\^enteen ancestors. But in that world the saying about Israel's mai- dens will hold true of him who will not work: he shall bring forth wind;" but he who will work shall give birth to his own father.
There is a kind of learning which would presumptuously introduce into the world of spirit the same law of indiffer- ence under which the world of matter groans. It is thought that to know about great men and great deeds is quite suffi- cient, and that other exertion is not necessary. And there- fore this learning shall not eat, but shall perish of hunger while seeing all things transformed into gold by its touch. And what, forsooth, does this learning really know? There were many thousands of contemporaries, and countless men in after times, who knew all about the triumphs of Miltiades; but there was only one w^hom they rendered sleepless.^^ There have existed countless generations that knew by heart, word for word, the story of Abraham; but how many has it rendered sleepless?
Now the story of Abraham has the remarkable property ^Matthew 5, 45.
^Cf. not the legend but Plato's Symposion.
lOMatthew 3, 9.
iilsaiah 26, 18.
i^Themistocles, that is; see Plutarch, Lives.
136 University of Texas Bulletin of always being glorious, in however limited a sense it is understood; still, here also the point is whether one means to labor and exert one's helf. Now people do not care to labor and exert themselves, but wish nevertheless to under- stand the story. They extol Abraham, but how? By ex- pressing the matter in the most general terms and saying: "the great thing about him was that he loved God so ardently that he was willing to sacrifice to Him his most precious possession." That is very true; but "the most precious possession" is an indefinite expression. As one's thoughts, and one's mouth, run on one assumes, in a very easy fashion, the identity of Isaac and "the most precious possession" — and meanwhile he who is meditating may smoke his pipe, and his audience comfortably stretch out their legs. If the rich youth whom Christ met on his way'' had sold all his possessions and given all to the poor, we would extol him as we extol all which is great — aye, would not understand even him without labor; and yet would he never have become an Abraham, notwithstanding his sacrificing the most pre- cious possessions he had. That which people generally for- get in the story of Abraham is his fear and anxiety; for as regards money, one is not ethically responsible for it, where- as for his son a father has the highest and most sacred re- sponsibility. However, fear is a dreadful thing for timo- rous spirits, so they omit it. And yet they wish to speak of Abraham.
So they keep on speaking, and in the course of their speech the two terms Isaac and "the most precious thing" are used alternately, and everything is in the best order. But now suppose that among the audience there was a man who suffered with sleeplessness — and then the most terrible and profound, the most tragic, and at the same time the most comic, misunderstanding is within the range of pos- sibility. That is, suppose this man goes home and wishes to do as did Abraham; for his son is his most precious pos- session. If a certain preacher learned of this he would, perhaps, go to him, he would gather up all his spiritual dig- nity and exclaim: "Thou abominable creature, thou scum i^Matthew 19, 16f.
Selections from the Writings of Kierkegaard 137 of humanity, what devil possessed thee to wish to murder thy son?" And this preacher, who had not felt any par- ticular warmth, nor perspired while speaking about Abra- ham, this preacher would be astonished himself at the earn- est wrath with which he poured forth his thunders against that poor wretch; indeed, he would rejoice over himself, for never had he spoken with such power and unction, and he would have said to his wife: "I am an orator, the only thing I have lacked so far was the occasion. Last Sunday, when speaking about Abraham, I did not feel thrilled in the least." Now, if this same orator had just a bit of sense to spare, I believe he would lose it if the sinner would reply, m a quiet and dignified manner: "Why, it was on this very same mat- ter you preached, last Sunday!" But however could the preacher have entertained such thoughts? Still, such was the case, and the preacher's mistake was merely not know- ing what he was talking about. Ah, would that some poet might see his way clear to prefer such a situation to tho stuff and nonsense of which novels and comedies are full! For the comic and the tragic here run parallel to infinity. The sermon probably was ridiculous enough in itself, but it became infinitely ridiculous through the very natural conse- quence it had. Or, suppose now the sinner was converted by this lecture without daring to raise any objection, and this zealous divine now went home elated, glad in the con- sciousness of being effective, not only in the pulpit, but chiefly, and with irresistible power, as a spiritual guide, inspiring his congregation on Sunday, whilst on Monday he would place himself like a cherub with flaming sword before the man who by his actions tried to give the lie to the old saying that "the course of the world follows not the priest's word."
If, on the other hand, the sinner were not convinced of his error his position would become tragic. He would prob- ably be executed, or else sent to the lunatic asylum — at any rate, he would become a sufferer in this world; but in an- other sense I should think that Abraham rendered him happy; for he who labors, he shall not perish.
138 University of Texas Bulletin Now how shall we explain the contradiction contained in that sermon? Is it due to Abraham's having the reputation of being a great man — so that whatever he does is great, but if another should undertake to do the same it is a sin, a heinous sin? If this be the case I prefer not to participate in such thoughtless laudations. If faith cannot make it a sacred thing to wish to sacrifice one's son, then let the same judgment be visited on Abraham as on any other man. And if we perchance lack the courage to drive our thoughts to the logical conclusion and to say that Abraham was a mur- derer, then it were better to acquire that courage, rather than to waste one's time on undeserved encomiums. The fact is, the ethical expression for what Abraham did is that he wanted to murder Isaac; the religious, that he wanted to sacrifice him. But precisely in this contradiction is con- tained the fear which may well rob one of one's sleep. And yet Abraham were not Abraham without this fear. Or, again, supposing Abraham did not do what is attributed to him, if his action was an entirely different one, based on conditions of those times, then let us forget him; for what is the use of calling to mind that past which can no longer